The Mind Games (The Mind Readers) Page 4

  I nodded and crossed my arms over my chest. I already knew all this; what was her point?

  “Around these buildings is a fence. Electric, barbed wire, whatever you can imagine. Cameras every ten feet, infrared, heat, keypads that use hand prints.”

  “Right.” Okay, I hadn’t known that, but I’d assumed it would be highly secure. And yeah, I wasn’t exactly sure how I’d get around all the high tech electronics, but I’d think of something. Maybe.

  “So,” my mom looked up at me. “How will you get in?”

  A heated flush crawled up my neck. “I’ll use my abilities.”

  She dropped the reed and stood, wiping her hands on her shorts. “The people who work for John have chips that keep mind readers out. You can’t use your powers against them.”

  That’s where she was wrong. I felt awfully smug as I stated, “I can break through them.”

  She paused for a moment, her brows drawing together. I’d surprised her, shocked them all silent. “How many times have you done it?” my mom finally asked.

  I shrugged, wondering if maybe I shouldn’t have been so eager to divulge that piece of information. “Maybe a couple. Dad used me. He had me break into the prisoner’s minds.”

  They were all eerily silent for a long moment, watching me until I wanted to squirm under their attention. I felt like a circus freak, as if any moment they’d shout, “Gather round!”

  Finally Mom sighed, shaking her head. “So you can break through one at a time. If ten men come at you, there’s no way you can stop them all. If you expend that much energy, it would probably destroy you.”

  Sierra watched us closely, not saying a word, but I had a feeling she knew more and understood more than any of us. I shifted, uneasy. How would I break in? I had to tell them something, and something they might actually buy.

  That last night at the cottage with Grandma flashed to mind. Maddox had thrown a grenade into the yard so we could escape. Why not? “I’ll create a diversion,” I blurted out. So, I didn’t have the details yet, I’d leave that for later. “I’ll find a way in. I’m going. If you have nothing to actually offer, I’m leaving.”

  I turned once more but before I could take a step, Nora blurted out, “The prison ward is a fake.”

  “What do you mean?” I hated myself for asking, for caring at all about what they had to say.

  She shook her head, her long blonde hair floating on the ocean breeze. “They aren’t kept on the main floor of the third bunker. Not the high risk. High risks are kept underground. Better protected.”

  “And Lewis—”

  “Will be high risk,” Mom added. “If not because of his powers, because they know you’ll try to rescue him.” She said the words in a finite way that made me realize she thought she had me; she thought I’d give up.

  “Where are they kept?”

  “Under the other floors, underground,” Nora admitted. “There is a second level, a basement of sorts.”

  Obviously they’d kept her there. I pushed aside the picture of a young, frightened Nora and focused on my mission. I couldn’t prevent what had happened to her, but I could save Lewis and maybe, just maybe, if I could pull this off, Lewis wasn’t the only one I might be able to save.

  Nora tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “I can draw you a map—”

  “No!” Mom snapped, her blue eyes flashing with anger and desperation. “This ends here, now.” I could feel her irritation in the energy around me, it practically vibrated the sand.

  “He has children,” I said quite calmly. “Little kids younger than Nora had been when she was captured. They’re most likely in cells like criminals. Probably being tortured.”

  I’d deliberately painted a horrifying picture and it worked…at least on Nora.

  She swallowed hard, shoving her trembling hands into the back pockets of her shorts. I almost felt bad for upsetting her. “She’s right.”

  “You are not leaving,” Mom stated quite firmly.

  I was so startled by her sudden urge to actually parent me, that I stood there mute. Without another word, she turned and started toward the cottage.

  Sierra rested her hand lightly upon my arm. “It will work out, don’t worry.” She lifted the hem of her gown and followed Mom.

  I watched them go, unsure if I should feel bad over the fact that I’d obviously upset them all, angry that they were so close-minded, or frustrated because they were so obtuse.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring after her. How dare she tell me what I could and couldn’t do. How dare she pretend to care about my welfare when I hadn’t gotten so much as a card from her in the past thirteen years.

  “I’m leaving within a week,” I said, glancing at Nora, the only one left. “Will you train me or not?”

  “You’ll go even if you’ll most likely be captured?” she asked. “Even if you have to go alone?”

  She didn’t get it; I’d been alone most of my life. I didn’t need anyone else. I turned and started down the beach, walking away from my worries, even if for five minutes. “Even if I have to go alone.”

  Chapter 4

  It was while hovering between sleep and consciousness that I first heard the voices. Mumbled words that faded in and out of focus, hard to decipher, but loud enough that it felt as if they were standing next to me. At the very least, in my room.

  I knew I was still in the guest room. I could feel the warmth of my blankets, vaguely hear the chirp of birds outside and tourists chatting from the square below. Yet, at the same time I felt like I was elsewhere, like my energy had left my body.

  “You can’t let her go.” It was Aaron’s voice.

  A voice I knew well. But then you probably never forgot the person who tortured you.

  “You know how important she is. If you let her go and he understands what she is capable of…if she finds out that she’s a carrier—”

  “You think he doesn’t already know?” My mom interrupted, sounding frustrated and angry. “We don’t need to worry about John, we need to worry about what will happen when she realizes what she can do.”

  A sudden clanging noise jerked me from my uneasy slumber. The noise rattled through my mind like a church bell directly overhead. I jerked my eyes open and stared at the ceiling. The voices had disappeared.

  The beep of a garbage truck broke the serenity of the morning. For a brief moment I merely lay there, attempting to make sense of my dream. It had been a dream, hadn’t it?

  Confused, I rolled onto my side. The clock on the table glared 10 a.m. Late for me. I’d never been one to sleep in. I pushed myself up, my body not my own. I felt disconnected, disorientated. I’d slept for eleven hours. I knew I needed the rest, but hated how buzzed it made me feel.

  I tucked my loose hair behind my ears, attempting to make sense of the conversation I’d heard. The dream had been odd, to say the least. They’d obviously been talking about me, or Nora. But had it been just a dream, a vision? A memory? What? I never seemed to know anymore, and I sure as heck wouldn’t trust their response if I asked.

  I shoved aside my blanket and settled my feet on the cold floorboards. Day two and I was still no better prepared to save Lewis. I moved to the windows and brushed aside the curtains. Such a beautiful town. Such beautiful homes around such beautiful garden squares. Some of the houses were large ornate Victorian mansions worth millions. Even my mom’s smaller row house had to be worth quite a bit, and I wondered where her money came from. As far as I could tell, she didn’t work.

  A family strolled across the square, grabbing my attention. A mother, father and their three boys. The mother forced the boys to stand in front of the monument, attempting to gain their attention, and take that perfect family photo. I’d never taken a vacation, although I’d seen more of this country than most. No, our trips were frantic escapes; constantly looking over my shoulder. No time to see the sites. No time to enjoy the world. Certainly no time for a cheerful family photo.

  For me the world
hadn’t been a place full of exciting adventures and beautiful scenery. The world had been something to fear. Except the ocean… the ocean had been the one place where they couldn’t touch me. When I swam within those waves, with the fish and over the coral it was just me in the water, enveloped in secrecy.

  The family walked away, pulling me from my thoughts. I took in a deep breath and released it through pursed lips. Today was the day I’d decide if I was going to stay for the week or not. If I didn’t learn anything, I was leaving.

  I grabbed my jeans and T-shirt and quickly dressed. What I wouldn’t do for my own clothing. My own place. Even a job. I hadn’t the least desire to stay here with Mommy Dearest. I had accepted, at some point, that I might not ever see Grandma again. Who knew if Lewis would even want to lay eyes on me once all of this was said and done.

  I pulled my hair into a ponytail, slipped on tennis shoes. Time to face the firing squad. I made a quick detour to brush my teeth, all the while listening for voices from downstairs. As I headed down the steps, the soft murmur of conversation paused and I knew, with no surprise, I’d been the topic of conversation. I could hear the scrap of chairs and clatter of dishes and headed for the kitchen.

  Bright sunlight streamed in through French doors. I saw my mom first, her face as unreadable as always as she stood near the stainless steel oven. Nora sat at the small kitchenette table, a spoon of cereal halfway to her mouth. Her gaze nervously flickered from me, to our mother. Father Myron was seated across from her, a hesitant smile upon his weathered face as he sipped his coffee.

  “Good morning,” he called out cheerfully.

  I started to respond when out of the corner of my eye I noticed someone move near the refrigerator. Surprised, I turned toward the man. Tall, blonde, sickeningly familiar.

  Aaron.

  He closed the refrigerator door, setting a carton of orange juice upon the counter. My heart skipped a beat, only to stop for a brief moment. Everyone disappeared. The only sound was the roar of blood and denial to my ears. The very man who had erased my memory, who had erased Lewis’ memory. The very man who had destroyed my life.

  “Cameron,” my mom’s voice sounded far away. “Do you remember Aaron?”

  I didn’t respond, I couldn’t respond. Anger burned through my body, singeing my skin from the inside out, urging me to act, urging me to get revenge.

  “Cameron,” his voice sent everything back into crystal-clear focus. “I hope we can put this behind us. I hope you realize that I did what I thought was best.”

  The condescending tone, the blasé attitude…it drove me to the brink of insanity. My entire body trembled. Vaguely I was aware of my mom coming toward me, as if she sensed my anger, sensed I was about to erupt.

  “I hope,” he continued, “that we can move on from here, and…”

  And just like that I lost control. Energy burst from me, burning through my body on a heated wave of lava. It hit him full force. I saw his eyes widen, his knees buckle but instead of being afraid of my own strength, I felt amazing. He cried out and stumbled, as if I’d punched him when I hadn’t even lifted my hand.

  “Cameron,” my mother snapped out. “Stop!”

  I was vaguely aware of Nora’s mouth hanging open. Vaguely aware of Father Myron rushing to Aaron’s side. I didn’t care. I didn’t care that they were looking at me like I was the very devil. I didn’t care that blood trailed from Aaron’s mouth.

  My mother latched onto my shoulders and shook me. Her touch jerked me back into reality. I’d lost control. The energy had surged through me in a way that left me overwhelmed, as if it would have drowned me, had I not released it. Confused and frustrated, I spun away and rushed to the front door.

  “Are you okay?” I heard my mom ask Aaron.

  She wasn’t worried about me. Nope, just him. I was the outsider here. An outsider who had attacked them. I opened the front door and stepped outside. The morning air was cool, but did little to ease my aching chest. I pressed my hand to my collarbones; it felt tight, my lungs constricted. I needed to leave, to escape. I stumbled down the steps, unsure where I was going.

  When I was ten, I remembered finding a squirrel trapped in our garage. I felt like that animal now, wild and confused, nowhere to go, but looking for somewhere, anywhere. I had to leave. I couldn’t stay. But the moment I stepped into the middle of the square, I paused.

  Where would I go? How would I get there? I sank onto a cold, marble bench and stared at the pigeons, their head bobbing as if to some music only they could hear. I had nowhere to go.

  “Mind if I sit?” Father Myron stood in front of me, looking as serene as always. Did anything rile him? Apparently not.

  I didn’t respond. I couldn’t seem to find the words. But he sat anyway.

  “I like to sit in the squares, and imagine the past,” he said with a smile. “The carriages that might have traveled these very roads. The men in their suits and women in their fancy dresses.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he had a point. Could he not see I was on the cusp of freaking out here? I’d lost control of my powers. I’d never lost control. At the time it had felt awesome, now that I’d had time to cool down it made me nervous.

  “We’ve been here for a couple hundred years, you know. Those like us. We’ve used those tunnels for centuries.”

  Surprised, I slid him a glance. I suppose I’d never really thought about it, but now I wondered… where did our powers come from? How long had they been in existence? “Why can we read minds?”

  He shrugged. “Some say we were an alien race.”

  I released a wry laugh, hoping he was joking. “Aliens? Are you kidding?”

  He smiled, a little mysteriously, as if he knew he had me hooked. “Some say we descended from an ancient Celtic religion. Some say Greek. And some believe we’re descended from Angels sent to earth.”

  I rolled my eyes. I could only imagine which he believed. “Great, so we’re all special. Why me, then?”

  His white brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

  I stood and paced the area in front of the bench. “Why was it so important that I leave my mother when I was five? Why does everyone want my powers so badly? I mean, yeah, I seem to be able to do a little more than other mind readers; is that why?”

  “What more?” Father Myron folded his hands in front of him, looking as calm as always, but I didn’t miss the interest in his eyes.

  I shrugged, crossing my arms over my chest. Dare I trust him? I could tell him about moving objects, about breaking through chips… “You, all of you, were in the kitchen,” I blurted out, unsure why I was telling him this. “Aaron said you needed to tell me something, but Mom was worried about what I’d do if I knew the truth. Aaron said I was a carrier.”

  He didn’t even bother to hide his interest now, but leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. “Where did you hear that?”

  I shrugged. “I…dreamt it.”

  He stood. “That was no dream. Dear God, your mother was right all along.” He released a long, trembling breath. “I think it’s time you visit with Sierra.” He started toward the road. Realizing I hadn’t followed, he paused and glanced back. “Well, would you rather stay here?”

  “No.” And because I wanted answers, because I had nowhere else to go, I followed.

  ****

  Twenty minutes later I found myself outside of Sierra’s small cottage. Father Myron had hailed a taxi, told me that he’d explain to my Mother where I’d gone. Without any other word, he’d shut the taxi door and the car had sped away from the city, toward the island.

  I’d been tempted to head to the beach, but knew it would be rude of me not to at least announce myself, and see why Father Myron thought I belonged here. A narrow boardwalk wove through the reeds to the white cottage. I paused at the door and knocked. Potted plants stood welcomingly on the stoop, but the house sat silently. A few tourists rode their bikes by, nodding in greeting. Frustrated, I knocked again. No one answered.
The taxi was long gone. I sure as heck couldn’t walk back to Savannah. With nothing else to do, I followed the boardwalk to the back of the house.

  I didn’t see her at first, standing amongst the waves so still, so silent. She could have been one of those white cranes in Florida, lean and elegant. Sierra stood on a rock that had managed to avoid the tide, the stone jutting sharply from the ocean waves. Her long, white gown billowed on the breeze; her hair braided down her back lay as still as her body.

  What was she doing?

  Frowning, I started toward the shore. The tide was in, had been for at least an hour, the water splashing up and licking at her toes, yet, her dress wasn’t soaked. The hem not even damp. She couldn’t have walked out there. No way she could jump that far. Had she been standing on that rock since the tide had come in?

  “Excuse me. Sierra, do you need help?”

  She didn’t respond, merely started moving her arms in long, fluid circles around her body, doing some sort of martial arts or Tai Chi. I waited for at least ten minutes, impatiently, until the water pulled away from my feet and headed back out to sea… until the water reached Sierra’s rock and further.

  Heck, it was my own special version of The Karate Kid. Finally, after I had settled into the sand for what seemed like forever, and the sun beat down on me, burning my face, she turned. Those eerie pale eyes met mine and she smiled as if delighted to see me, as if she hadn’t known I was there.

  She was so bizarre, where had she come from? I hadn’t a clue how old she was. She had smooth skin, but white hair. The slightest wrinkles were around her eyes, but nothing too deep. She stepped gingerly from the rocks and practically floated toward me.

  I stumbled to my feet, my butt numb from sitting. “Father Myron sent me.”

  “I know.” Reaching me, she pressed her hands together, bowed her head and said, “Welcome. Follow me.”

  Considering I really had no other choice, I turned and started toward the deck attached to the back of the house. The cottage was raised on beams like most homes along the shore. That Buddhist statue sat smiling mockingly up at me. I looked away, annoyed. What the heck did he find so amusing?