by Anna Durand
Chapter Twenty-Six
Power tore through David. Grace screamed as he was hurled back into his body, far from the facility and Nkosi.
And Grace.
He staggered backward and hit the ground with a thud that echoed through his body and set his nerves on fire. His head pounded. White lights popped in his vision. His muscles twitched and burned. He clambered onto hands and knees, panting, but when he tried to move, to crawl even one inch, agony contorted him from head to toe.
Grace.
Her scream ripped through his mind, replayed over and over. She'd pleaded with him for help, not with her voice, but with the tormented look on her face and the terror radiating out of her into him. Severing their link had torn her away, stranding him out here in the woods, blind to her anguish, powerless to save her.
"Man, are you okay?"
Sean's voice pierced the haze of agony and anguish. David blinked until his vision shifted back into the physical plane, the blurry shapes around him coalesced into bushes and trees, grass and moss, and Sean and Gabriel Amador.
"What are you doing here?" David tried to scramble to his feet, but his legs gave out. "You were supposed to be on your way to Edward."
"Yeah." Sean jammed his hands in his pants pockets. "We changed the plan."
"Dammit, Sean, you shouldn't be here."
He rolled his eyes and scrunched his mouth in teenage annoyance. "We know what's going down, and no, I wasn't gonna run off in Gabriel's plane. It's a Gulfstream, which is really cool, sure. But you're family."
David clenched his jaw. He understood Sean's decision, even admired him a little for it, but fury ripped through him at the sight of Amador's face, pinched and pale. Grace wouldn't have resorted to the Golden Power if Amador hadn't pushed her, tormented her, scared her into actions she'd sworn never to take again. The bastard coerced her. Scared. Tormented.
Bastard.
He lunged at Amador. His hands closed around the man's throat.
Sean seized his arm and pulled. "No no no! What are you doing? Stop it, he helped us."
David squeezed. Amador spluttered, choked, eyes bulging.
"He saved you." Sean clawed at David's hands, desperate to pry them free. "He stopped the guards from taking you when you were in transit."
Fingers hard as a vice around Amador's throat, David snarled. "What did you do to Grace? Where is she? Tell me, Amador, or I'll snap your neck right here."
Amador gurgled.
Sean punched David in the side. The blow knocked him off balance, and his hands popped free of Amador's throat. Sean socked him again. David tumbled sideways and whumped to the ground. Pain ricocheted through his ribs and torso. He grunted, rolling onto his back.
"You dumb-ass." Sean loomed over David, his mouth twisted into a sardonic expression. "Let people explain before you go all psycho-killer dude on us. You're a real shithead sometimes, you know?"
David pushed up onto his elbows. Sean had never sworn at him before.
Sean plopped onto his buttocks on the ground, knees bent before him. "I know you're freaky protective of Grace, but come on. Get a grip, man. We're trying to help you."
David raised an eyebrow.
The boy snorted. "Don't gimme that look. You're the one being an asshole."
"So now you're friends with Zorro the Gay Blade?"
"No. But he did save your dumb-ass life." Sean screwed up his face and slanted his head sideways to study David. "The Golden Power make you stark raving bonkers or what?"
David heaved his aching body into a sitting position, his legs outstretched, torso braced upright by his shaky arms. Sean had been scared — that David might die, that he might return from his "transit" mentally injured or insane, that the only two people he trusted would be stripped from his life. Of course the boy cursed at David. He was terrified.
"I'm okay," David said, assuming a placating tone. "I'm sorry I lost it there. You don't know what happened in the facility. Nkosi is — "
"A total psycho." Sean's lips warped into a mirthless smile. "We know that already. He convinced us to come back for you guys, but when we found you in that ravine, he tried to slit your throat." Sean nodded toward Amador, who slumped against a tree massaging his throat. "If it weren't for him, you'd be a meat sack lying in a blood puddle."
Teenager boys had such a way with words. David felt a grim smile overtake his mouth. Had he been like that once? It seemed so long ago and far away. He couldn't remember.
His shoulders folding in, Sean hugged his knees. "We lost her, David."
Blades of ice gutted him and rammed straight up into his heart. God, please no, not Grace. His throat cinched tight around the words he needed to speak, but he forced them out one syllable at a time. "What happened?"
"Nkosi and his Nazi pals took her. We tried to fight, but… " Tears glistened in Sean's eyes. "They were too strong, and I'd spent all my energy on saving you. There wasn't enough left."
Saving you. David considered the phrase for several seconds, and understanding flared bright in his mind. "Nkosi did slit my throat. You had to use your healing power on me."
Sean chewed his lip and nodded.
David zeroed his gaze in on Amador. "What did you do, whimper and whine? Why didn't you employ the Golden Power?"
"I — " Amador slouched lower, his pallor deepening, his eyes wild with fear. "Please forgive me, I lied to Grace. I have no psychic abilities."
The rage erupted inside him, but David doused it with a single thought. Grace is in danger. He hoisted himself off the ground and offered his hand to Amador. The other man eyed him warily, but clasped his hand and accepted a boost in getting to his feet. Amador dropped his hands to sides, fingers working.
David wipes his hands on his pants. "No forgiveness. I won't kill you, and that's the best offer you'll get."
"I understand."
Sean clambered to his feet. "They must've taken Grace back to the facility. How are we gonna rescue her? I'm wiped, and you must be too. We're powerless."
David's nails burrowed into his palm as he fisted his hands tight. He was not powerless. Even without Grace's energy bolstering his, he claimed enough psychic power to do… something. Anything. What?
Save her.
He could do this. He must do it. They shared a connection stronger than telepathy, a bond fortified with passion and commitment — and love. The kind that spawned legends. The kind no amount of distance could weaken. He latched onto that love now, wrapping it around himself like a treasured coat.
Warmth shimmered inside him, sweet and familiar. It trickled into every crevice of his being. It scoured away the darkness, the fear, the pain, and it shrank the distance between them to nothing. The sensation of nearness, of Grace's presence skimming his flesh, flowered inside. He knew this feeling. But it couldn't be. He'd endured the wrenching pain when Nkosi shattered his connection to Grace, and he'd suffered the aching emptiness left behind. Yet the gentle weight blanketed him and her warmth filled him, suffused him, altered him, empowered him.
How did he know Nkosi broke their link? Because the monster told him, that's how. What if the thing that called itself Nkosi deceived him? He was clutching at phantoms of hope, he knew it, yet the hazy echo of sunlight inside him, it evoked one thing and one thing only.
Grace.
He threw his head back as a grin split his face, and he laughed. Exuberance bubbled out of him, dispersing into the air. Daylight streamed in through the treetops to bathe him in streaks of gentle radiance. Light, dark. Grace, Nkosi. Human potential versus unspeakable power. The battle had begun. But evil would not win the day, because he and Grace wielded the greatest power in the universe. Their love.
David slapped Sean's arm. "Let's go get her the old-fashioned way."
The boy's expression brightened. "With guns and fists?"
"Hmm. We
can manage the fists, but as for the guns… "
Sean reached behind his back and yanked out a semiautomatic gun, similar to an AK-47, with a long, curved magazine. He reached back again and brought out a much smaller handgun. Offering both to David, he grinned. "Will this work?"
"It'll do." David took the bigger gun, testing its weight. He could handle this. Checking the magazine, he discovered a full complement of ammo. Oh yeah. He could definitely handle this. "Let's get moving."
He called up the mental map of the facility and its environs that he'd compiled before traveling to the facility. The route stretched out before him. With Sean in tow, he strode off into the woods.
Amador toddled up beside him. "I am going with you. This is partly my fault, and I must rectify it."
"Partly?" David halted, struggling to rein in the anger. He fixed his glare on Amador. "I don't have time to talk about your guilt, or how much I hate you and how much you'll suffer if anything happens to Grace. Get out of my sight before I demonstrate for you."
Amador straightened and lifted his chin. "I will come with you."
If he had a rope, he'd tie the bastard to a tree and let the wild animals take care of things. But he didn't have time to argue. "Fine. Just do what I say and keep the hell out of my way. Got it?"
"Yes."
They marched onward. David pushed them to a faster pace, until sweat dribbled down their faces and their breaths huffed. Still, he pushed harder, accelerating into a jog, then a run. He hurtled through the woods with a clock ticking in his mind, each second eating away at Grace's life.
Nkosi claimed to be the Golden Power. Was it even possible? Maybe Nkosi had tapped into the ultimate source of psychic energy, but it drove him insane, to the point where he believed he'd become the Golden Power. Andrew Haley lost his mind after trying to read someone else's. Who knew what damage the Golden Power might wreak on a mind too flawed or feeble to handle the influx of energy.
Whatever Nkosi was or was not, he wielded enough power to trample almost anyone who tangled with him. Grace might prove the exception.
Not might. She would.
David stopped to lean against a tree, catching his breath. Sean and Amador did the same. He would help Grace defeat Nkosi. Their link persevered, but Nkosi must've shut the door on it. The thing about doors was, they could be kicked in.
He shut his eyes. Focused on Grace. Latched onto the remnants of their connection. The ribbon of energy joining them led him straight back to her. He couldn't see or hear or touch her, yet the soft, glowing essence of her swelled inside him.
David?
Not a word. Not a thought. A sensation of her mind seeking his, questing for contact.
He had one chance before his psychic energy was spent.
I'm coming, Grace.
With an effort that twisted his gut and seared his brain, he pulled in all the energy left inside him and flung it at the door segregating their minds.
And then he kicked it in.
Grace's eyes sprang open. Her heart thudded, her breaths gasped, and sweat dribbled down her temples to drip, drip, drip onto the table beneath her. A table? She tried to sit up, but restraints pinned her down at the forehead, wrists, and ankles. Her manifested body was tied down? Impossible.
And yet here she was, strapped to a table. She shot out a burst of psychic energy, intending to crumble her manifestation. The energy ricocheted back to her core. The body Nkosi stuffed her into retained its form. Dammit. Trapped in a manifested body and trapped in this room.
As her vision shifted into focus, she caught sight of her surroundings.
Goose bumps erupted up and down her arms.
She lay on a metal table in a square room with concrete floors, a mirror on one wall, and a single door. The dimness of emergency lights spilled over her and permitted shadows to creep in at the corners of the room. The mirror must've been two-way, to allow scientists to observe the goings-on in here. She could see the mirror out the corner of her eye, her prone form reflected in its surface. Did someone watch from the other side?
Her skin prickled. Tesler might be there, studying her from the safety of a hidden room. Or worse, Nkosi might lay in wait behind the glass.
Nkosi.
Grace shuddered. The power he'd exhibited when he controlled her and David simultaneously. The ease with which he fractured their link. Christ. Maybe he was the Golden Power, as he claimed. She had no other explanation for what he could do.
Heat rippled over her skin. She drew in a ragged breath. David. The sensation evoked him, but Nkosi had separated them on the psychic and physical planes. It couldn't be him.
Liquid summer flowed through her mind, into her veins, infusing her soul with a deep longing for what she'd lost. No. She hadn't lost David. He was here, inside her, with her always.
The door to the room banged open.
Grace flinched.
Nkosi stomped through the doorway. He whammed his fists onto the table between her feet. Rage deformed his face and seethed in his eyes.
She tried to cringe, to pull away from him, but the restrains held her in place.
Nkosi took hold of her ankles. His nails dug into her flesh. "You can't be communicating with him. I broke your bond. You are mine."
He knew. He detected it the instant she reconnected with David, though the link lasted only a few seconds.
A hatred as hot and wet as blood saturated her senses. Her stomach roiled. She clenched her hands. "I am not yours."
"You are. You should be." He yanked her legs. The restraints gouged her, and she bit back a cry. "I severed the link. I severed it, I did, I took you away from him and yet — " He threw his hands up and let out a feral bellow. "How can you still be with him? I am the Golden Power and I commanded you to be mine."
He was insane. Period.
Nkosi moved around to the head of the table. He ran the backs of his fingers across her cheek and gazed down at her with reverence. "You are the key to my liberation."
"From what?"
"The crossroads." He settled a hand on the strap over her forehead. "It keeps trying to pull me back, to confine me in my little corner of the psychic matrix. I don't want to be a prisoner anymore. Your power will free me." His thumb stroked her brow. "This is your destiny, Grace. Only you can access my energy. We are one."
"Oh great. Another psycho who's in love with me."
He gave a low, menacing chuckle. "I'm not interested in your body or your personality. It's your power I crave."
"My power's inside me, which means you need me too."
"I have no use for you." He lowered his face to hers. "I need your brain."
Every nerve seemed to sensitize at once, the air on her skin abruptly sharp, like a thousand needles nicking her. Pressure bore down on her chest. Her brain? How did he intend to…
Realization iced through her. He'd cut it out of her.
But how could he slice out her brain? She was in a manifested form, not her genuine body.
Wasn't she?
Oh shit. For a long moment, she forgot to breathe. Tingling started in her face, paralyzed her lips, and spread out into her limbs. She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths until the tingling faded. Then she spoke with deliberate care. "How did you find my body?"
Nkosi leered at her. "Heat signatures. We used infrared technology to pinpoint your location."
Heat signatures. Infrared technology. Why did someone who claimed to be the incarnation of the Golden Power need infrared to find her? The Golden Power granted limitless knowledge. An omniscient being should not need technology.
"Once we captured you," Nkosi said, "it was simply a matter of eliminating the others."
Others? The meaning of his words burrowed into her and crawled under her skin. Three faces flashed in her mind — Sean, Amador, and David. If any of them had died becaus
e of her…
David was alive. His energy reached out to her even now. But Sean and Amador, if they'd suffered because of her arrogance, her blind belief that she and David could conquer the world together, then she'd never forgive herself. Too many people had died for her. People she loved.
No more.
"I give you one more chance," Nkosi said, "to grant me your power willingly. Otherwise, I'll be forced to wrest it from you by whatever means necessary."
"Screw you."
He straightened, giving a curt nod to the mirror. "We do this your way, doctor."
Footsteps clapped in the corridor, approaching the doorway. A figure waltzed into the room, his gray hair tousled and his white coat dotted with stains. A scrape slashed across his left cheek.
Tesler halted at her feet. His mouth twisted into a vile smirk. "We meet at last."
"Screw you too." If she'd held onto any shred of her wits, she might've cobbled together a better comeback. But her wits had scattered into the ether.
Get them back, idiot.
Nkosi and Tesler exchanged a look she couldn't decipher. Glee maybe. Or hungry lust for power — of the psychic variety for Nkosi, and of another type for Tesler. What the scientist really wanted, deep down, eluded her. He despised psychic abilities, and viewed travelers as freaks, yet he sought the power he believed resided in her brain. Amador claimed Tesler dreamed of controlling an army of puppet psychics. But his endgame struck her as far more complex than the old world-domination gambit.
"Bring in the tools," Tesler called out to the mirror. Then he spoke to Nkosi. "When this is over, I'll have what I wanted, what you promised me. Correct?"
Nkosi nodded.
Grace squirmed in her restraints. No weak links she might exploit. Her bonds were leather and metal, not chain.
The emergency lights lent the room a haunted-house vibe. She squinted at Tesler. "How long will the backup generator last? I know your computer systems are fried, so the generator gives you light and ventilation, but not much more."
He stared at her, blank.
"What have you got left?" she said. "A couple hours?"
"Shut up." He rattled her ankle restraints. "You're the one tethered to a table, about to be split open."