"And even more interesting," DuPris said. "It seems one of my Pinocchios has won the heart of two of my Pinocchiettas. Isn't that sweet?" He patted Maria on the head again.

She felt humiliated. Violated. DuPris had destroyed some of her most precious memories by using them for his entertainment.

"I'll give you a new memory to make up for it," DuPris promised her, continuing to invade her mind.

Maria felt an electric current begin racing through her body, zapping her nerve endings. She made a quarter turn, took two steps, and made another quarter turn. She found herself in front of Michael, her eyes focused on his chest. Without her will, her arms reached toward him.

Maria had spent hours fantasizing about touching Michael again, about him touching her, inventing all kinds of scenarios for how it would happen. Now her daydreams had turned into a nightmare. DuPris was going to make them put their hands on each other while the scumbag got off on the show. Don't make me do this, Maria silently pleaded, hating herself for begging but willing to do anything to stop this.

"Oh, come on," DuPris said. "It's exactly what you want to do, and you know it. And you don't have to worry about Michael rejecting you this time because he can't!"

Maria's arms looped around Michael's neck. His hands wrapped themselves around her waist.

It's just Michael, she thought. He may not have chosen you in the girl-o-rama, but he's still your friend. Whatever happens, remember that it's him touching you, even if DuPris is pulling the strings.

Michael slid one hand lower, tracing the curve of her hip. She wished she could look into his face at least, but DuPris wouldn't even allow that.

It's Michael, she repeated to herself as she was forced to press a mechanical kiss against the side of his jaw. It's Michael.

He pulled her tighter against him, and she caught a whiff of something sharp and tangy. Eucalyptus. Eucalyptus-what she always smelled when they made a connection.

They weren't completely connected yet, but if they could-Maria slammed the thought away. She couldn't let DuPris read it.

It's Michael. It's Michael. It's Michael. She returned to her mantra, but now it held a new meaning.

"I told you you'd enjoy yourself," DuPris said. She felt him toying with one of her curls, but she refused to let herself be distracted.

Her fingers were forced into Michael's hair, and she tried to imagine her aura wrapping itself around them both. The sent of roses, her connection scent, blended with the eucalyptus, softening its bitter edge.

Almost there, she thought. Then she caught a flicker of blue out of the corner of her eye and a splash of brick red. Their auras were becoming visible to her. They swirled together-and it happened. Michael and Maria made the connection.

She raised her eyes to Michael's. She raised her eyes. Not DuPris.

Before DuPris had a chance to realize what had happened, Maria shot her hand to the left and grabbed Isabel by the arm.

An infusion of Maria's sparking blue aura and Michael's brick red one shot into Isabel's body. She could almost taste it in her blood.

She tried to wiggle her fingers and smiled when she was successful. She reached for Max, grabbed his hand, and felt his aura rushing through her, too, giving her a blast of big brother protection along with the smell of cedar. DuPris didn't know who he was dealing with here. When the six of them made a connection, they were unstoppable.

She'd missed Max, missed all of them so much. She felt as if she'd been away from them forever. But she was back!

Hi, Liz, Isabel thought when she felt Liz's amber aura join the rainbow ripping through her. She took a deep breath and caught a touch of Liz's exotic ylang-ylang in the perfume of their connection.

She was totally losing it, but she didn't care. They were going to shatter DuPris's hold on them. And then they'd be free. If she could, she would have done her trademark back flip into a full split. Free! Whee!

"The puppets are trying to take over the theater," DuPris said dryly. "How entertaining."

Give us one more minute, and you'll see how entertaining it is, Isabel thought. She realized DuPris might take it as a challenge if he chose that minute to read her thoughts, but let him. She was ready for a fight.

Alex's vivid orange aura zoomed into the mix, trailing the scent of almonds. The force of it, of him, almost knocked Isabel off her feet. Who wouldn't be ready for a fight with Alex on their side? The boy might not have any powers, but he did not know the meaning of the word surrender.

Isabel let out a whoop, glorying in her ability to open her mouth and make a sound. She was regaining control by the moment. The room began to fill with music, a concert made up of the music of their dream orbs. She wasn't the only one who was back. They were all back!

Alex threw out an image to the group-a cartoon man in a black-and-white-striped uniform swimming away from Alcatraz, his arms moving as fast as a planes propellers. Alex knew no one had been held prisoner on the island for years, but hey, why be so literal?

Isabel responded with a picture of herself in her cheerleader uniform, jumping up and down and yelling her head off. Typical Isabel. Had to send a picture of herself. But there was no bitterness to the thought. Here, in the connection, he could open himself up to her without their history weighing him down. He could enjoy the pure, essential Isabel, with all their mutual crap stripped away.

She sent out another picture of herself, this time jumping so high, she touched the sun. Yeah, baby, he thought.

Michael followed up with a surfer shooting a curl. The big cheeseball. Alex shot him back a grinning guy in a T-shirt that said Totally Tubular on the front. With each image the power of the connection grew stronger. They were charging the battery. Gassing up. Amazing that this little cornball image exchange would turn them into a well-oiled fighting machine.

Adam cringed as Max hurled out the image of a tiger stalking through the jungle, yellow eyes watchful.

This was all too much, too big, too loud. The colors of all the auras clashed with the pictures everyone kept throwing. And the heavy perfume swirling around him felt like it was replacing all the oxygen in the air.

He started to pull his hand away from Liz's, but she held tight. She let an image slowly unfurl in front of him. The two of them in her backyard, just sitting on the grass under the night sky.

Michael sent him a picture of the two of them playing crazy eights in his compound cell. Isabel waited until that image had completely faded, then sent over the acid green clouds of the home planet they shared. Max added a view of the earth from space. Maria showed him a butterfly breaking free of a cocoon, wings still wet.

They wanted him to be a part of this and not just to protect him, he realized. He let his own aura stretch out, adding a band of yellow to the ribbons of color tying them together.

He took a deep breath, allowing himself to appreciate each scent in the air, including the smell of green leaves that he somehow knew was coming from him. Then he selected an image and let it soar out. He smiled as the two pieces of golden brown toast popped out of the shiny silver toaster.

His smile widened as Alex responded with the image of all seven of them eating toast together. Loaves and loaves of perfect toast.