by Jordan Dane
“I’d say Haven Hills, but that’s a guess,” her brother said. “Whenever I see a vision of the ward, it’s only a red-and-white sign over an entrance with double doors. I get a feeling that it’s...familiar. I keep seeing a medical facility with security. There are guards and a woman in white. She’s the one who brings the pain, but I can’t picture her face.”
“Anything else?” Gabe asked.
“When I was at Haven Hills, I remember hearing nurses talk about me getting transferred to Ward 8. They called it a one-way trip for hopeless cases. I escaped before that happened, but I can’t rely on my memory. Between my visions and the drugs, I can’t tell what’s real.”
These days Rayne knew it didn’t take much for Lucas’s mind to yank him back to Haven Hills. He’d lost years of his life, and his dark past was rooted deep.
“Mia talked about some miracle doctor.” Rayne sidled up to Luke and nudged him with her shoulder. “She told me her name. Fiona something, but I can’t remember the rest. A foreign-sounding one, I think. I asked her if this doctor was the one doing the transfer or saving you from it. She never told me. Do you remember that doctor’s name?”
“No, sorry. I barely remembered my own name back then.”
Gabriel heaved a sigh.
“A transfer could mean they’d do it by ambulance and take you to a separate location,” he said. “The church has a great many resources, I’m afraid. But since we have to start somewhere, that hospital might be our only option. Let’s give it a go while we’re here in L.A. I’ll ride with Rayne. Kendra, you’ve got the Navigator. Don’t wreck it.”
He tossed the keys to Kendra and they hit the road. After Gabriel climbed on the back of her Harley, Rayne took comfort when he put his arms around her. She’d never get tired of the way he made her feel when he got close. But when she caught an odd glance from Luke as he got into the SUV, Rayne did a double take. The haunted look in her brother’s eyes gripped her hard.
She didn’t have to be psychic to know that Lucas would hate being anywhere near Haven Hills.
West Hollywood
10:45 p.m.
After Gabe had Rayne make several passes around the Haven Hills complex on the Harley, Kendra asked if she could park the Navigator and watch the hospital. She wanted time to warm up her Indigo mojo. She and Lucas parked two blocks down so they could have an angle of the front of the facility. Gabe chose a spot not far away—an asphalt strip between two warehouses—where he and Rayne would have a good view of the rear entrance, a private patient loading zone. The alley smelled of trash and piss, but Gabe hadn’t picked it for the ambience.
He got off the Harley and made sure he saw the cab of the Navigator. Luke had the passenger window down with his arm out, drumming a fidgety thumb on the door. Kendra was a shadow, backlit by the red neon sign for a laundry. Rayne stayed on her bike and kept her eyes alert for anything, including the murky alleyway behind her. They all were on edge.
Gabriel looked through his uncle’s binoculars as he waited on Kendra.
I don’t sense him, Gabe. Damn it. Kendra sent him a telepathic message.
Lucas, what about you? Could Ward 8 be here? Gabe asked, the Indigo way.
When the kid didn’t reply, he tried again. Luke?
After a long moment of silence, Lucas eventually replied, I don’t know. Can’t be sure. I feel...something. Just not sure what exactly.
Although Luke hadn’t offered much, Gabe knew what he meant about feeling something he couldn’t figure out. Kendra had the true gift of feeling other Indigo souls, but inside the walls of the hospital, Gabriel sensed the despicable secret of his father. The staunch fanatics of the Church of Spiritual Freedom—the Believers—hurt Indigo children here.
“I don’t know if Ward 8 is here,” he said to Rayne as he lowered the binoculars. “But there’s true evil behind those walls. This place is wicked. I can feel it.”
Ward 8
Oliver Blue awoke in a dark room. A chill had left him numb, but he was too worn out to do anything about it. He lay sprawled on his belly, atop a mattress on the floor of his cell. With his face planted into a thin pillow, he could only open one eye.
Lifting an eyelid felt like an ordeal.
Different. The word kept him awake until he glanced over his shoulder and realized that his room had changed and he wore lame hospital pajamas. He didn’t remember any of it. Someone had moved him to another room and really messed with him when they stripped him naked and made him wear pastel. Oliver felt like a drunk after a bender who discovered a girl’s name tattooed on his ass.
Dr. Fiona must’ve ordered the change after he passed out cold, when he couldn’t help her find the kid. Maybe she’d drugged him again. His brain was too fried to care. He saw that the doctor had left the surveillance photo and the book with him, but the exam room was gone, where she had monitored his brain activity and plugged him into machines to keep his body functioning. In this new room he had a sink and a toilet. No mirror. No more restraints.
No more thoughts of death.
No Caila.
Oliver shut his eyes tight and burrowed into the pillow with a moan. He forced the girl’s face from his mind—and felt a hole where she had fit. He fought that feeling as the doctor told him. He wanted his life back. He wanted to be left alone.
His only hope to make that happen was to do what the doctor told him—if he could. The first time the doctor had given him the book and the photo, he’d been too groggy. He barely remembered what happened, except that he couldn’t focus through his exhaustion and the effects of the meds, but maybe that was only an excuse.
His gift had changed. He wasn’t sure how or why, but he felt different. He sat up and reached for the book the doctor had left him. He closed his eyes and clutched the hard cover to his chest until the edges pressed into his fingers and hurt. He even smelled the coppery tang of blood.
Caila had complicated his life with a trick. He didn’t want to care about anything. He didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else. He sensed truth in what Dr. Fiona had said. The doctor was...
True evil...wicked.
I can feel it.
“What?” Oliver jolted awake when he heard a guy’s voice as if it came from inside his head. He searched his cell, but no one was there.
“Hello,” he called out, and felt stupid doing it. His room was empty except for him and this blasted book.
Had he dreamed the voice? Or was it a fake memory from Caila? Exhausted and alone and fresh from Dr. Fiona’s treatment of sensory deprivation, he couldn’t trust his new reality. He was different, yet a bizarre feeling lingered like a twilight sleep dream that seemed too real.
The voice he’d heard had a British accent.
Oliver stared into the shadows, listening. He didn’t hear the voice, yet there was a presence in the room that he felt. Like the way a stray cat stares over your shoulder to make you think it sees someone behind you, that’s how it felt. Even the hair at his neck prickled. Shit. Grow a pair. Living the way he did, Oliver had seen plenty to make him scared, but he hated how it felt to live with fear every day.
He made up his mind to do something about it. He shifted his eyes to the glow from the hallway that leached under his door and he centered on it. Blocking out his shadowy room, he focused on the light as if it were a tunnel he could walk through. The barrier of light anchored his body while his mind ventured beyond it, free.
As he’d done before, the walls of his room disappeared and he let his consciousness reach outside his cell like a wisp of smoke. Oliver’s lungs sucked air as his awareness snaked beyond his body, the way Dr. Fiona had forced him to do when he escaped the black helmet.
His essence drifted out of his room and down the hall. He got by guards who didn’t see him, seeped under doors and blew like a feather through ductwork and vents. He didn’t h
ave to know where he was.
Oliver kept his focus on one thing now. He had linked to someone through the book, in a way he’d never experienced before. He couldn’t be sure it was the guy he had to find, but whoever it was, he felt sure of one thing.
His gift had been changed forever—because of Dr. Fiona.
Outside Haven Hills Treatment Facility
“Does Kendra sense Rafe yet?” Rayne asked.
“What?” Gabe got hit with a sudden déjà vu. He heard Rayne’s question, yet it felt as if he’d heard her say it twice. “Sorry. I had a strange...brain cramp, or something equally peculiar. What did you say?”
“I asked if Kendra has sensed Rafael here yet,” she repeated.
“Sorry, no.” Gabe shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean Ward 8 isn’t here. They could have Rafe somewhere else. Another of their torture chambers.”
The minute he said it, Gabe regretted it. He saw Rayne tighten her jaw and she had a hard time looking him in the eye. She still felt guilty over what had nearly happened to her brother. If he’d been transferred to Ward 8, she might not have seen him again...ever. Gabe knew she hadn’t been the one to commit him. Her older sister, Mia, had done that, but nothing consoled Rayne when it came to the missing years Lucas had spent in hell.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to stir up bad feelings.”
“I know you didn’t. Guilt isn’t an easy thing to shake.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she wiped them. When he saw her struggle to hold it together, he went to her. Gabe ran a finger down her moist cheek and kissed her forehead.
“It scares me how close I came to losing Lucas to this snake pit.” Her voice cracked. “I thought they were helping him, but one thing scares me more.”
“What’s that?” He pulled her into his arms and held her.
“If my sister, Mia, knows what her church does to kids like Luke, how could she let them do it? I can’t believe she was willing to sacrifice Lucas. For what?”
“I don’t know, Rayne. When people believe God is on their side...”
Gabe suddenly stopped. He pushed away from Rayne, a move he never would’ve done unless he had a reason. In a rush, it struck him. Gabriel felt a strong urge to protect her.
In his head he heard the sound of someone else’s voice mirroring his own in an eerie echo. He didn’t know if the words were his at all. Every word carried anger and he felt his body being invaded. He staggered back a step and fell against a brick wall, panting for air. His chest felt on fire and he couldn’t catch his breath.
“Hey. What’s happening, Gabe?” Rayne’s words came in a muffled slur. She leaped off the Harley and ran to him.
They’re fuckin’ soul vampires. Fear is a drug. They’re afraid of us. A low voice channeled through his head with all the subtlety of a rushing train.
When people believe God is on their side, they think that gives them permission to do anything. They see us as a threat.
Every word came like a punch to his gut, an attack he’d never felt before. He lurched forward and stumbled toward the hospital, shielding Rayne with his body. His eyes burned and tears streaked his cheeks as he reached out a hand to no one.
Make it stop! He blasted his message to the collective.
Make what stop, Gabe? Lucas had heard him. Gabe’s in trouble. Punch it, Kendra!
Whoever had invaded Gabe’s mind, the powerful entity had a link to Haven Hills—and something more. Flashes of a tortured face flickered from the shadows of his memory. A familiar vision that he’d lost sleep over—the screaming guy in the black helmet with dark goggles. He’d drawn him in his sketchbook. The minute Gabe pictured the details of his sketch, the boy appeared like a ghost.
“Oh my God. What’s that?” Rayne cried out. “That’s...him. The guy you drew.”
Gabriel relived one of his worst nightmares, except that he was awake. The guy looked dead. He could see through him, yet he didn’t feel Death in this boy. He sensed a strong will to live and survive. The boy didn’t speak. His image flashed his torment, the agony of being locked into the helmet, unable to see or feel anything. Gabriel heard his distant cries and knew it had been him. The essence of the boy existed in two realities, one here and one somewhere else. It looked as if every second of that duality pained him.
“Who are you?” he asked. “What are you?”
The instant that Gabe spoke, the screaming grew louder and unbearable, sweeping by his ear. He cringed and felt sick. His cries carried a jolt of electricity, like getting hit by a Taser, that made it hard for him to stand.
“No, stop!” He bent over in pain with his hands over his ears.
“Gabriel, what’s happening?” Rayne rushed to him, yelling, “Stop! You’re hurting him.”
She stepped in front and blocked him from the guy in black. When she did, Gabe heard a loud zap and felt his ears pop as if a portal opened and closed to another existence.
“He’s gone,” she said.
He heard the relief in her voice, but for him nothing had changed. Whatever bond he shared with the boy in black, it went on. Gabe had to do something. He was under assault. He’d never had a vision come alive before his eyes and attack him. He sensed the kid had come to him for a reason, but his tortured soul had been filled with the injustice of what had happened to him, that he let Gabe feel his anger.
Gabe didn’t know how to break a connection he’d never experienced before. He’d never been bombarded from inside. It came too fast, from all directions. Make it stop! On pure instinct Gabriel reacted. He stopped fighting. He had to defend his psyche and wasn’t sure how until he willed his body to break the link. He hoped he could find his way back—and that it wasn’t already too late.
Like flipping a switch, he shut down.
When he raised his chin to the heavens, he saw the night sky on a slow spin over him before his knees buckled and he hit the ground. Rayne’s face wavered over him. Her voice became distant. He didn’t even feel her hand when she touched him. Her face split into three and circled over him.
Rayne’s sweet face was the last thing he saw. In a desperate move, he linked to her mind and his love for her, unsure he could even do what he imagined. She became his tether, his only way home. He clung to her as long as he could before everything went black.
* * *
It all happened fast. Rayne couldn’t stop it. One minute Gabe was fine. The next he staggered like a drunk and collapsed, convulsing on the ground at her feet in a strange seizure. It reminded her of the time he’d connected to Lucas at the L.A. County Museum of Art and his link went horribly wrong—only there weren’t any blue flames or freaked animals or scary quakes.
Who had he connected to this time? It couldn’t have been Lucas again.
“Gabriel, can you hear me?” She clutched his face with both hands and tried to get his eyes to focus, but his seizure got worse. “Oh, please, no.”
In the distance, she heard the SUV barrel up and screech to a stop. Lucas and Kendra jumped from the vehicle with doors flung open and headlights on.
“What happened?” Luke yelled as he knelt by Gabe.
“I don’t know. Some b-bastard in a helmet and goggles came out of n-nowhere, looking like the Terminator. He never touched Gabe, but something happened.” Rayne choked on every word. Nothing made sense.
“Whoever it was, I don’t feel a presence.” Kendra looked around before she knelt next to Gabe and touched his cheek. “Has this ever happened to him before? It looks like a seizure.”
“Yeah, he did this once, when we searched for Luke after he escaped the hospital. Gabe told me that he made a connection, or whatever, that made him...sick.” Rayne held down his shoulders. “We were just talking. He was fine, until ghost boy showed up.”
“Don’t restrain him, Rayne. He’s too str
ong. You could get whacked or hurt him instead.”
Gabriel moaned and thrashed on the asphalt. When his knuckles got scraped, they glistened with blood. Rayne didn’t want to let him go, but she did what Kendra told her. The Indigo healer looked at her watch and took a quick look around.
“Kick that broken glass away from him, Lucas. Anything that can hurt him,” Kendra said. “And cushion his head, Rayne.”
Rayne shrugged out of her jacket and folded it under Gabe’s head, but she wanted to do more.
“He’s convulsing. Can he swallow his tongue? Shouldn’t we...”
“No, people can’t swallow their tongues, but let’s roll him on his side. He’s not breathing right. We gotta keep his airway clear so he doesn’t choke or puke.”
Lucas grabbed one of his arms and they rolled him over. After Kendra checked her watch for a second time, Rayne had to ask, “Why are you checking the time?”
“Longer than five minutes, we should call 911. But I’m afraid if we do that, they’ll only take him to the closest hospital.”
When she glared over her shoulder at Haven Hills, Rayne understood. She had her burner phone for emergencies. She could call for help, but that would put Gabe’s fate into someone else’s hands. “Yeah, good point.”
“Besides, if Gabe is seizing, it’s something psychic. We have to get him to his uncle. Maybe he’ll know what to do.”
“Gabe drew Terminator boy in his sketchbook, Luke. He was screaming, in the drawing and here too. Since you two are channeling dreams, he must’ve come from a vision you had. Do you remember him?”
“Yeah. Hard to forget something like that.” Luke couldn’t look her in the eye. “If I brought this guy to Gabriel, I’m sorry.”
“You and Gabe, you guys don’t pick your visions.” Rayne reached for her brother’s hand and squeezed it.
“It’s slowing down,” Kendra said.
It didn’t take long for Gabriel to quit shaking. The worst of his tremors had stopped—short of her five-minute window to call 911—but he didn’t wake up. When Kendra touched his cheek, Rayne knew she’d tried to mentally connect with him.