Bach could feel Nika’s heart racing as the scar-faced man repeated his question. “Which one will it be?”
Don’t answer, Bach told her. Burst into tears—can you do that?
She could, and she did. Quite effectively.
“Touching,” the man said, his words slightly slurred from his inability to move the badly scarred muscles on that one side of his face. “I feel similar grief for a missing friend. Of course, just because he’s not here, doesn’t mean the game won’t be played.”
Caine. He was talking about Devon Caine. That was his missing friend. It was all Bach could do not to recoil. He’d hoped, because Caine had disappeared, that Nika wouldn’t be forced to do this terrible thing, but he’d been wrong.
“So the girl you pick won’t get to … enjoy my friend’s company before she shuffles off this mortal coil. But I’ll do the killing in his name. Now, pick one—or I’ll slaughter five.”
Bach focused, finding his inner calm, despite Nika’s sobs and the other girls’ screams. He wasn’t certain he could do this, considering he was using a large portion of his own power to possess Nika, but he tapped into her raw power, too, and …
It worked.
He reached out to the man, careful to leave Nika safely behind, as he pushed his way into the dark cavern of the scarred man’s mind, planting ideas that he hoped would stick and grow.
She’s frightened enough—just by this threat.
Her adrenaline levels are high enough.
There’s no need to damage one of the other girls. They’re all providing excellent product.
But they weren’t, Bach saw, feeling his own adrenaline levels rise just from being privy to this man’s hideous thoughts, his foul memories of his many years here. This creature—Cristopher was his name—loved his work a little too much.
And he’d recently found out, from blood samples taken, that three of the girls in this room—Stacy, Mandy, and Brianna—were performing miserably, their blood sub-satisfactory to the point of barely usable. Their usefulness was at an end. Brianna had been showing signs of dehydration and shock, and was at death’s door. She was no longer worth keeping. She occupied a bed that should and would be filled by a newer girl. He’d been ordered to remove her today.
Not today, Bach suggested. Today the threat is enough. Just take the blood and go.
The girl is frightened enough.
She’s frightened enough.
Her adrenaline levels are high enough.
The man turned away, and still Bach focused and would continue focusing until he was out that door. But then the man stopped—he moved with a peculiar shuffling gait—and he tipped his misshapen head to one side.
Bach leaned on the idea. The girl is frightened enough. Time to go. Time to leave.
“Are you trying to mind-control me?” the man said, turning back to look at Nika, and Bach immediately pulled out. “What a clever girl. Perhaps too clever for your own good.”
He came shuffling back, and Bach didn’t dare try again. This time this man would be ready, he’d be expecting it. And this time, if Bach tried again, the man would know it wasn’t Nika alone who’d put those thoughts into his mind.
And Bach couldn’t risk him finding out that Nika was no longer alone.
“Pick. One,” the man said again, his voice steely.
And Nika spoke up before Bach could stop her, her chin held high in defiance, even as she continued to cry. “Me,” she said. “I pick me.”
Nika, no.
Too late, she told Bach. I can’t do it—I won’t do it. I won’t pick someone else.
“That’s not acceptable,” the scar-faced man said. “You’re too valuable to your new owner.”
Nika, I know this is hard to understand, but in a way, he’s right. Your power is unprecedented—
“Well, that’s too bad, because I picked,” Nika answered them both.
“Pick again,” the man said.
“No.”
Nika, Joseph told her. I’m going to push you away, push you far back into your mind, into a happy memory, where you won’t see and you won’t hear—
Joseph, no, I won’t do this!
Don’t fight me. But she did fight him, her will sharp and strong, despite her days of abuse and captivity.
The man’s knife came out. “Pick again, girl, or I’ll kill five, right here, right now. And if you still don’t pick, I’ll kill five more.”
He was going to do it. Bach knew that he would, just from the brief amount of time he’d spent in the man’s ugly mind.
“I can’t do this!” Nika cried, as Bach pushed her away from this nightmare.
Nika, go, and you won’t have to, he told her, and in a rush, he could feel her understand what he was doing and why. But still she fought—this time for him.
Joseph, no, I can’t let you do this for me!
Go. GO. He was stronger than she was—at least for now. In years to come, that would probably change—provided she survived the next few days. But here and now, Bach pushed her back, pushed her down, and then pushed her even further, even more deeply into her own unconscious mind, so she would not witness and therefore have no memory of the awfulness that was to come.
“I’m going to count to three,” the scar-faced man told Nika, who was no longer there. It was all Bach now, in Nika’s body. “One.”
Bach closed his eyes. God help him.
“Two.”
Nika wasn’t going to do this, but he was. He looked up and he spoke in Nika’s voice, because, really, that was the only voice he had access to, right before the man said, Three.
“Brianna,” Bach said.
And it was harder to get the name out than he’d imagined, even knowing what he knew—that the little girl was already doomed to die.
He wanted to throw up, and it was possible that his true body did just that—back in the safety of OI.
But here, as Nika, he shut his mouth, and didn’t say aloud, Know this, now: If you hurt this girl? I will fucking kill you. I will follow you to the ends of the earth. I will personally hunt you down and end the toxic poison that is you.
To Bach’s horror and despair, the man didn’t shuffle out the door. Instead, he turned and made his way toward one of the few girls who weren’t screaming, one of the few whose eyes were glazed, whose voices were silent.
And he lifted his knife and slashed.
And Bach could have stopped it. He could have taken that knife from the man’s hand. He could have forced the man to turn the knife on himself, to slash his own, scarred neck. Or he could have slammed the man against the wall, broken his back, broken his neck, crushed the life and the rotting evil out of him.
But then Nika’s other captors would know. And they would kill Nika, or move her far away, or lock her in a room where, when the time came, Bach wouldn’t be able to help her get free.
His team wasn’t ready yet, and the Organization’s defenses were too strong, so this little girl that he’d named had died.
Bach heard himself screaming, heard his voice, ragged and raw as her blood sprayed, as for the first time in decades his anger nearly owned him. For the first time in decades, he allowed himself to hate.
But for Nika’s sake, and for Anna’s sake, and for the sake of all of the other girls in this godforsaken hell of a place, he buried it all inside of himself. He locked it up—all except his grief.
That, he tried to release as he wept—but he knew it would never, ever leave him.
“Anna, thank you,” Elliot said. “You’re brilliant, you are. But it’s not going to be you. It doesn’t have to be you. It shouldn’t be.”
“But she’s my sister,” Anna pointed out, even as Elliot turned and looked at Stephen.
“Raise your hand if you know a former Navy SEAL, who also happens to be a fraction,” Elliot said, lifting his hand.
“Shane Laughlin?” Anna said the man’s name in unison with Stephen.
“Oh, that’s good,” Stephen added. “Th
at’s really good, El.”
“But why would he do it?” Anna asked. “Going in there? It’s a huge risk.”
“Why do Navy SEALs do anything?” Elliot asked and then answered his own question, his voice lowered as if telling her a secret. “They’re a little crazy.”
“He’ll probably enjoy the challenge,” Stephen said.
“We can seal the deal—pun intended—by making Mac part of your assault team,” Elliot told Stephen, who was nodding.
“I’m part of what assault team?”
They all looked up to see Mac standing there, a plate of scrambled eggs and a mug of coffee in her hands. “I got a text from Bach last night—he told me when I got here, I should come find Diaz. So, here I am. Mission accomplished—well, except for the accepting-my-punishment part.”
“No one’s going to punish you,” Stephen said quietly. “I think you’ve probably already punished yourself enough.”
Mac looked at him and although she didn’t nod, it was clear she was in agreement. She appeared decidedly worse for the wear. Her pixie-short hair looked as if she’d showered and then slept on it. And still she managed to be one of the most beautiful women Anna had ever seen in her life.
She watched as Mac sat down and began shoveling the food into her mouth.
“Speaking of medical scans …” Elliot said, using the computer keyboard to enter some information.
“Were we speaking of med scans?” Mac asked, looking to Anna and Stephen for confirmation, her mouth full.
“It was back a bit, but yeah,” Stephen told her.
“Hold still,” Elliot said. “For a full scan—or at least the best we can do with your clothes on.”
“I’m fine,” Mac said, continuing to eat.
“Hold. Still.”
Mac sighed and froze with her fork halfway to her mouth, while giving him a baleful glare.
“Look at that, you are fine,” Elliot confirmed as Mac went back to her food. “Both bullet wounds are completely healed, and … Your integration levels are back to only minor wavering between fifty-three and fifty-four. Thank you, Shane Laughlin. Job well done.”
“Do you know that you spiked to seventy-one?” Stephen asked her.
Mac was surprised. “Shit. Did I really?”
“After you eat,” Elliot said, “I want to run more tests on you—and Shane, too. I want to see if there’s anything we can do to keep this from happening again.”
“Next time, just lock me up,” Mac recommended, “after you send me into the head of a psychopath. FYI, it wasn’t about Shane.”
“Yeah, sorry, I’m not buying that,” Elliot said.
“So … where is he?” Stephen asked, scanning the room.
“Shane.”
“He needed to sleep,” Mac said, but her shrugged casualness seemed forced.
“Seriously?” Elliot asked. “That’s how you thank him? By ditching him? Again?”
“I didn’t ditch him,” Mac said. “I just let him sleep.”
Their conversation continued—Anna could see them talking, see their mouths moving, but their words faded, drowned out by the strangest buzzing sound.
She looked around, confused. Where was that coming from?
But no one else seemed to hear it. Their mouths were in motion as Stephen and Elliot used the computer as a visual aid and explained to Mac everything they’d discovered about the Organization building where Nika was being held—about the illegal medical scanners used by the Org’s security team, and about the need for a non-Greater-Than to shut those scanners down from inside.
And still the noise continued, rattling her brain. Anna tried to take a sip of water, but her hand was shaking so she put the glass back down.
The conversation was still going on, but the words were distant and the colors of the room itself seemed odd and too bright, so she closed her eyes and breathed, again using Joseph Bach’s peace-inducing techniques. Calm blue ocean …
At first the buzzing got louder and the dizziness increased, but then suddenly it just snapped off and there was silence. But it was a weird silence. A warm silence—as if she’d just stepped into the pitch-blackness of a small closet that was already occupied. And when a voice spoke, she wasn’t completely surprised.
Anna? Whoever it was, it was a girl or maybe a young woman. And it was clear from Stephen, Elliot, and Mac’s complete absorption in their conversation that this female voice was something only Anna could hear.
And even though she knew it wasn’t her sister, Anna thought back, Nika?
No, the voice said. It was strained, whispered, urgent. But I know her. I’ve seen her, spoken to her. Cristopher—the man in charge—he wants to kill her. She’s become too much trouble. Too powerful for him to handle. He’s talking to the board of directors right now. If they give their permission—and they will, they always do—he’ll return and bleed her dry.
Oh, God, no …
You must listen, the girl told her. Very carefully. Because I’m going to do it. I’m going to help her. Together we’ll try to escape—God help us. But you and your friends have got to help. You’ve got to meet us halfway—if you can.…
We will, Anna told her. We can. We’re devising a plan right now, to break in.
Really? There was a pause. How soon?
I don’t know, Anna said. It’s complicated. It’s going to take us awhile. Days, possibly.
The girl was adamant. That’s not soon enough.
We’re just not prepared—
I’m not going to wait, the girl told her. I’m going to take Nika and run, but you’ve got to meet me at—
The buzzing was back, obscuring her words, and Anna stood. Stephen, Elliot, and Mac all looked curiously up at her.
“Excuse me,” she said, and walked slightly away from the table, hoping that the buzzing was some sort of interference and if she moved a bit, the girl would come back.
And sure enough, as she headed toward the door to the lounge, the buzzing lessened. It was still back there, but she could hear the girl again. Are you there? What happened? I almost lost you—oh, Lord, maybe they know …
Tell me quickly before I lose you again—where should we meet you? Anna asked, jumping as Mac touched her arm.
“Anna, are you all right?”
Anna could see the concern in the other woman’s eyes, as she shook her head, no, even as the girl’s voice was again drowned out by the buzzing sound.
Tell me again, Anna said. I’m losing you!
She could only hear ragged bits and pieces of words now. Maybe and connection and prove—improve—and outside. And then she heard the girl’s voice, crystal clearly, Maybe if you go outside, and up onto a hill without any buildings or trees …
Yes, yes—she could do that! Anna pulled away from Mac and went out of the lounge, running now through the hall toward the stairs that led to the ground-floor entrance.
There was a gently sloping tree-free hill between this main building and the fence that surrounded the compound. It was covered in the lush green grass of spring, thanks to all the rain they’d been having lately. Anna thundered down the stairs, aware that Mac was right behind her, with Stephen and Elliot bringing up the rear.
“Where are you going?” Mac asked, her voice nearly drowned out, too, by the buzzing in Anna’s head. “Anna, what the hell …?”
Stephen wasn’t quite sure what was happening. All he knew was that Mac had taken off, chasing Anna down the hall, so he’d followed, curious as to what was going on, aware as hell that the feeling of foreboding that had been pressing down on his chest was back with a vengeance.
“There’s a girl,” he heard Anna shout back to Mac, even as she kept running, “who’s a prisoner, with Nika, and she’s sending me a message—she’s projecting a message! She’s going to escape with Nika, she’s going to help! But there’s this weird interference, this noise in my head, and I’ve got to get outside!”
“No,” Mac said, “Anna—no!”
But An
na was already past the Security checkpoint, and bursting through the door. Mac was right on her heels, but Anna was surprisingly fast.
Stephen skidded to a stop and turned to Elliot, who was right behind him. “Stay inside.”
Elliot didn’t say a word, but his expression held a shade of oh no, you dih-n’t, so Stephen added, “Please,” and touched him briefly on the side of his face. Thank you. Love you.
He didn’t wait for Elliot to respond, he just turned and raced after Anna and Mac.
He could hear Mac shouting as she followed Anna up the hill. “Don’t make me tackle you—don’t make me do it!”
He heard Anna’s reply, “Be quiet—you’ve got to be quiet! I can’t hear her over the noise!”
Shit—there was noise, and it wasn’t just inside of Anna’s head. It was a low sound, a thrumming sound, and Stephen looked up … And there it was, in the brilliant blue of the crisp spring morning sky—not a hawk circling overhead, but a pitch-black helicopter, diving toward them, fast, growing larger and larger.
And it wasn’t just a helicopter, it was a gunship, with weapons bristling on either side of the fuselage.
Stephen heard himself shouting to Mac, “Get inside, get her back inside,” but he knew there wasn’t enough time. It was over. Anna was going to be taken, flying up into the sky and away from OI, just as she’d done in his vision.
And he focused all of his power on that helicopter, on telekinetically swatting it out of the sky. It jolted and jumped, but it didn’t stop coming. Stephen tried again, and again he couldn’t move it—which didn’t make sense, unless it was somehow shielded …
So he changed tactics and he reached out with his mind and tried to find the minds of the men and women who were inside the gunship. Although this wasn’t his strength, his new Elliot-enhanced powers were still being revealed, and this was certainly worth a try.
But he felt—nothing. Almost as if the gunship were a drone, or manned by robots. There was no warmth, no humanity—again as if the people within were completely shielded.
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