“What new ability has she developed?” he asked.
Father shrugged.
“Well she must have developed something,” Uncle Max prodded, “or you would have waited until you were in one of the interrogation rooms. You’re never in such a hurry that you don’t wait to leave the main house. Look at the mess you’ve made in the study, for Christ’s sake.”
Father shook his head, scrubbing harder along the backs of his hands. Uncle Max’s gaze grew hot on my chest. Bone was exposed, that much I could feel, but it was the blood and muscle that had his attention.
He licked his lips.
I focused on the stress ball in his hands. Looked closer. It wasn’t a ball. It was flesh, turned inside out and rolled into a wad. I could smell it now—baby powder over brine. He rolled it in his palms and in between his fingers like some kind of slimy dough.
Whose skin did he play with? I took a focused peek into his mind…and screamed in horror.
…
It hadn’t taken long for Thirteen to fine-tune the plan—just a day or two—but it was enough for me to muster up a good amount of dread. We sat in an Econoline van at the rear of the capitol. I was about as spied-out as I could get—dark sunglasses, hair hidden under a Cubs hat, surveillance equipment everywhere.
Uncle Max and my father were both capable of the recent murders. But Uncle Max was the planner. Searching for a Network directory was exactly the kind of big-picture plot he would orchestrate.
Another car backed into its space in the row across from us. Government workers had been coming and going for hours now, but Uncle Max was still a no-show.
Thirteen sighed heavily beside me. “I know you don’t want to do this, Magnolia,” he said, breaking the long silence between us, “and I don’t blame you. But we need to know where to direct our efforts. You only have to get a feel for what the big plan is—why they’re so focused on removing the Network now.”
He turned in his seat to look at me. A shimmery fog of power brushed along my skin. Shit.
“Magnolia…”
One of the monitors in front of us buzzed. Uncle Max had arrived. Bile instantly rose in my throat.
Thirteen pushed some buttons on the monitor, flipped some switches on the dash, and we had sound. Papers shuffling, high heels on tile, fingers tapping on a keyboard—Max’s executive assistant readied his office. The click-clack of her heels practically ran from the room. A muffled “Good morning, sir,” then heavy footsteps.
My mouth went dry.
Father’s mind was cruel, brutal. And Uncle Mallroy’s was a frightening void—chaotic, illogical, almost nonhuman. But Uncle Max’s mind was sick—like diving into a pool of vomit and dead animals. It was going to take a very long time for me to feel clean after this.
“Fine,” I finally said to Thirteen.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and listened. Everything went away—the cars, the people, Thirteen—all that existed was Uncle Max’s office. Two interns disagreed in the vestibule. His assistant typed at her desk, fretting whether she had all the information for an upcoming press conference. In the office behind her, Uncle Max sat at his computer, his fingers flying over the keyboard with unnatural speed. His breath was steady, his mind intent.
No. Not his mind. His feelings were intent. His mind was…gone. My pulse sped. I couldn’t read a single thought. I focused harder.
“I can’t hear him,” I said, my voice shaking. “Thirteen, I can’t hear him at all!”
What if I’d been gone too long and couldn’t read my family’s minds anymore? I’d never have forewarning if they came after me. Never be safe. Or what if Uncle Max had gotten stronger? Oh God, what if I had gotten weaker? I bolted from the car.
“Magnolia! Stop!”
Thirteen’s words came from a distance.
The street moved beneath me in a blur. I was already outside the garage. Lady in blue worried about her children. Man in gray pined for his mistress. The mind of every person I passed came through crystal clear.
I rounded a corner and masked myself, plowing into the capitol invisible. I recalled the layout from Chang’s blueprints and raced to the stairs. In a second-floor hallway it hit me, slamming me to a halt. Uncle Max.
A wall of power surrounded his thoughts. I couldn’t feel it from the garage, but now that I was closer, the power was there like a fortress.
Why would he do that? It wasn’t like his enemies could read his thoughts. Only family could do that. And I was dead—or so they thought. Markus and Malcolm weren’t strong enough telepaths. Only Uncle Mallroy and my father could really get in his head. But why would he need to protect himself from his own brothers?
I inched forward. The power grew hotter as I approached his office. I could see his assistant’s desk from the hallway now. I took a deep breath, steadied myself against the wall, and tried his mind again. He was irritated. Something from an e-mail. I pushed harder at his mind. Finally his barrier wavered. Another push and I would break through.
I pulled away. My shoulders sagged in a sigh of relief. Thank God! I was still strong enough. The air around me thickened. My vision slowly darkened. A light red hue began tinting everything I saw. What in the hell…?
Uncle Max shot up from his desk. His heavy footsteps pounded across the floor in my direction. Holy shit!
I was back on the street before I had time to think.
So stupid! What the hell was I thinking? Going up to Uncle Max’s office—he could have sensed me, realized I was still alive.
My heart pounded in my chest. I wanted to beat myself for taking such a risk. On the stairs of the parking garage I released my invisible mask. My body shook, I struggled to catch my breath. I climbed the steps to the fourth floor. Thirteen saw me immediately.
He stood next to the van, his cell phone to his ear. There was no warmth as he stared down at me. He spat some words into his phone, threw it into the van, and waited, hands on hips.
…
Thirteen’s anger was expected. He had yelled and I had taken it, all the while understanding the fear behind his words.
Now that we were back at the farmhouse, however, the others seriously needed to chill out. My stomach already festered at the idea of going back and getting closer to Uncle Max—something I knew I would have to do—and Jon’s shouting only made it worse.
“You were reckless, Magnolia! You risked exposure—not only for the Network but for yourself!”
I took a long drink and met Jon’s eyes across the kitchen table. “I need proximity to get past Uncle Max’s barrier and into his mind. I didn’t know that. Now I do.”
“You were showboating! We work as a team here. You want to change the plan, fine. But you don’t go half-cocked into the middle of the fucking capitol with no backup! Jesus Christ, girl, show some fucking control!”
Instantly, the room pulsed red. Jon’s body slammed against the wall behind him. The kitchen’s wood-paneled wall buckled in a perfect imprint of his outline. His fingers clawed at his neck. A strangled gurgle escaped his throat.
Thirteen jumped between us with his arms spread wide, trying to decide who to go to first. Theo didn’t hesitate. His gun was leveled on me before Jon’s chair hit the floor. Shane was quick to race in from the great room but he had to scramble to pull his gun. Heather gasped and her eyes filled with tears.
My eyes were on Jon. Rage simmered inside me. It took everything I had not to rip his head right off. I took another drink. The room slowly dripped back to its normal color. Thirteen stepped forward, but I held up my hand to stop him. Jon remained pinned in place.
“Don’t you dare talk to me about control,” I hissed through clenched teeth. My voice was so low I almost didn’t recognize it. Jon squirmed against the wall. Everyone stood frozen.
Then Theo let out his breath. A loud exhale, nothing more. But it was enough. A wave of calm passed over me. With a thud, Jon collapsed to the floor.
Heather scrambled to his side. Theo lowered his gun
but Shane held his position. Thirteen glared at me. Whatever. He was already pissed anyway. I threw back the rest of my drink, then poured another.
Theo walked over to Jon and pulled him back to standing. Shane finally lowered his gun. All three turned to face me. Jon coughed a couple of times then found his voice.
“O—OK,” he managed. He cleared his throat, rubbed his neck. “Y—you have control. We would all be dead on our feet if you didn’t. I get that now.” He coughed some more. “Just don’t go off on your own like that again. Believe it or not, not all of us want to see you killed.”
We stared at each other for a moment longer. Then he turned and stumbled his way into the great room, Heather tucked into his side.
Theo didn’t move. He just looked at me, eyes dark and wary. It had been reflex to protect Jon. But now…an image of him shooting me played in his mind. Him pulling the trigger, the bullet sinking deep in my chest. I recoiled in my seat, my chest tight with a sudden ache. God, even the thought of being shot by him was painful. But wait—that wasn’t my pain. I looked at Theo again. His eyes grew wide. His hand moved over his chest. My breath caught.
Thirteen ran his hands over his face. “Come on,” he said. “I know we’re all on edge, but we need to decide how to move forward.” Theo looked at me a moment longer then followed after Thirteen.
I sighed. The red I had seen when my rage boiled over at Jon—it was darker than the reddish hue I’d seen at Uncle Max’s office. But in both cases I had felt things I hadn’t felt since leaving the estate. Absolute fear, incredible rage—and the dark shade of red had matched perfectly with what I was seeing in my dreams every night.
God, I was so sick of not knowing what was happening inside my own head.
Finally, I rose to join the others. And, this time, I took the whole damn bottle of whiskey with me.
We waited until Friday afternoon. Tempers ran high—people wanted to move faster. But Friday was the only day Uncle Max had no scheduled appointments. He would be in his office all day. It was our best chance.
The van pulled up to the curb at a cross street in front of the capitol. Thirteen had been called to assist in another team’s emergency, so Jon drove, Theo in shotgun. Jon threw the car into park, jerking the surveillance equipment piled around me. A line of yellow buses idled across the street. People filled the sidewalk. The buzz of weekend anticipation vibrated through the city.
“You have your panic button?” Theo asked without turning around. I stared at the back of his seat.
“Yeah, I have it.” Think of me. Just once, before I go in there, please think of me.
Another moment passed in silence.
“We’ll be in the garage on Michigan Avenue until rendezvous time,” Jon said, also not turning around. “Once you’re out of the building, head over to Washington and we’ll pick you up on the corner of West and Washington.”
Nausea rolled over me but I stamped it down. OK, I could do this. Just stand outside Uncle Max’s office, scan his thoughts, and leave. No big deal. He’d sense a supernatural presence again, but it could be any person with powers trying to sneak up on him. He still thought I was dead. Besides, knowing that he would sense my energy gave me motivation to get what I needed and get the hell out of there. Then I could go back to my nice little farmhouse and scrub out my brain for the next few hours.
I looked at Theo again then turned away. With a deep breath, I stretched out my power until I disappeared. Both guys still had their eyes firmly fixed on the windshield. Watching me vanish into thin air was just a little too supernatural for even the toughest of tough guys.
Jon jumped in his seat when I slid the van door open. I got out on the sidewalk and looked back into the van. Neither could see me now, but it didn’t matter. Theo stared right at me, looked me right in the eyes.
I turned away and closed the door. I dodged cars until I stood in front of the building. My legs were lead as I climbed the white cement steps. Every breath brought another wave of nausea.
I kept to the walls. Last time I was here I’d been too freaked out to look around. The building was beautiful—the domed entry, the statuary and portraits of Americana. I dragged myself to the second floor. The wide marble stairs subtly vibrated. A dull thundering sounded nearby, growing louder.
What the…? Oh God—Uncle Max already knew I was here. He must have been waiting for another attempt. Putting out his feelers for another source of power. And he would take out the whole place just to get to me.
I pressed myself flat against the wall. My eyes shut tight. I braced myself. All these innocent people…
Two women strolled by, annoyed. The man at the front desk sighed heavily. A group of men laughed as they walked through the foyer, then mentally groaned. Field trip day? What the hell was field trip day?
As soon as I thought it, the stairs overflowed in a stampede of children. Hundreds of them. They poured down the steps in a waterfall of activity and chatter. Thank God I was against the wall, or they would have just plowed right over me.
I waited for the wave to pass. The poor adults followed in their wake. They looked more like zombies than chaperones. I smiled to myself. Max hadn’t sensed me. I could still do this.
Renewed confidence had me flying up the stairs. I’d bent his barrier earlier—I could take it out today. But when I reached the vestibule outside Max’s office, my confidence stumbled. His power was everywhere. Thicker than before. Instead of a fog that I could wade through, the power actually pulsed around me. Alive, active. Evil.
He’d sensed me the last time, all right. And he had upped his protective wall as a result.
A few deep breaths and I forced myself to move silently into position. I chose a corner of the vestibule beside the two leather chairs that faced Uncle Max’s assistant’s desk. It was three o’clock and she was closing up shop to get a jump on the weekend. She worried about picking up her kids on time, what she was fixing for dinner, if she could get a date for tomorrow when the kids were with their dad. Normal, everyday thoughts. Nothing at all about my family.
How often did Uncle Max screw with her memory to keep her so oblivious?
She shoved some files into her briefcase, pressed some buttons on her phone, shut down her PC, and rose from her seat. My heart stopped in my chest. Would she open the door to Max’s office, to say good-bye? It was bad enough being this close to him. If I had to actually see him again…on reflex, I gripped the little panic button clutched in my hand.
But once her desk was in order, she simply strolled out into the hallway. My whole body relaxed when she was gone.
I looked at the closed door. OK, you can do this. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and centered myself. The weight of his power breathed against my skin. His barrier was like cement around his thoughts. Rough, solid. I had barely brushed up against it when something pulled my concentration away.
Warmth spread though me, settling the knot in my stomach. A few blocks away, Theo was thinking of me. After days of being intentionally preoccupied, he finally let down his guard. He felt helpless, angry, like it should be him standing outside Uncle Max’s office instead of me. Thirteen should never have put me at risk like this. Never.
My body tingled. The lingering panic inside me calmed. A soothing confidence took its place. I might have Kelch blood pulsing through me, but I could still help the people around me. And today…I would do exactly that.
I pushed off from the wall and stood just to the side of Uncle Max’s door. He was at his desk again, fingers flying at the keyboard. I took another deep breath, closed my eyes, and pushed.
Whoa. That was one powerful wall. I pushed out a little harder. The typing stopped.
My heart pounded. Now or never. I concentrated my power until my body shook. The wall in his mind shimmered, turning from cement to Jell-O. I was in. My gag reflex went into overdrive—the sheer sadism, the uninhibited evil. Blood, pain, joy, all mixed in together. The barrier tightened, tried to solidify once more. My powe
r wouldn’t let it. Then suddenly…the barrier pushed back.
My own mental walls slammed into place. His power scraped over my skin and mind. Thick, like an icy syrup. Cold enough to bite. I shivered. His power pulled back.
I let out a shaky breath. See, you can do this.
The next instant, I was off my feet, flying backward into the wall behind me. My muscles spasmed in pain as my head exploded. I slid down the wall and landed in a heap on the floor. I tried to catch my breath but the pain kept coming. Excruciating. I ground my teeth together to stop from crying out. The pulsing power surrounding Uncle Max’s office had turned to twisting pierces everywhere it touched me. My flesh, my mind. Red hues tinted the room as my consciousness started to slip.
There was a wailing. Like a siren inside my head. Blaring, echoing all around me. The floor trembled beneath me. Passing out meant dropping my invisible mask. I had to stay conscious.
But there was so much pain. And I’d been away too long.
There was movement. My eyes couldn’t focus. The wailing got louder. I felt Uncle Max’s presence as he entered the room. Oh my God—he’s right there! My body violently cramped as another surge of power lashed out through the room.
Just stay conscious. Just stay conscious.
He was right in front of me. I shut my eyes tight. The pain fought to pull me under. I was going to lose it.
From some great distance I heard Uncle Max’s terrifying voice call out over the blare, “Not yet! Not yet! Who the hell is in here?”
For a horrific instant I saw his mind clearly. Then all went black.
Just as pain had pulled me under, pain brought me back. A dull pressure softly pulsed at the back of my head. Annoying at first, like a headache after the Tylenol wore off. But it quickly sharpened, became piercing. Before I knew it, my entire head was swallowed by fierce, painful throbs—a direct hit to my mental powers. I couldn’t even tell if I was invisible anymore. My telepathy swirled out of control.
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