[Ganzfield 2] Adversary (20 page)

Want to try knocking over some more cans? I have some time before Coleman calls back.

Trevor frowned.
So, what do you think’s going on with that?

I don’t think I’m becoming telekinetic or you’re becoming telepathic. I think we’re borrowing the ability in the other’s mind.

Seriously?

Well, I wasn’t able to slap Zack out in the backyard. I think it might be because you weren’t there.

So, how are we going to test this theory? Go upstairs and slap Zack around for a little while?

I felt a pang of muddy-yellow guilt—I was pretty sure I’d beaten Zack up enough for one day. Also, Trevor seemed to like this idea a little too much.
What happened to my sweet guy who saw the best in people?

He heard that.
I can’t help it—the guy just bugs me. I told you, I think he’s attracted to you.

I reached over and took his hand, gently guiding him closer to me.
And I told you that you have nothing to worry about
. Our eyes met and held, amplifying the mental connection, laying all his thoughts open to me. He was afraid I was going to get into an unwinnable altercation with Isaiah and I’d be killed. Or that Zack was going to make a pass at me. Or that Ganzfield would no longer exist, that our abilities would fade as the dodecamine ran out, and then Isaiah would come for us and kill us when we were helplessly normal again.

Okay, you’ve got things to worry about. But you don’t need to worry about us.

My love flowed shimmering white through him—filling him, soothing him, reassuring him. The world started to dim around the edges and we suddenly pulled ourselves out of the beginnings of soulmating, stepping apart and looking away from each other’s eyes.
Not here.
The other people in and around my mom’s kitchen probably wouldn’t appreciate it if we did something like that right in front of them.

I led him by the hand into the tiny office off the dining room. It was barely large enough for two people. My mom’s desk took up half the space and there was only one chair. I sat on Trevor’s lap while I tried moving the pens and stapler around the top of the desk. I had very poor control, knocking most things around rather than picking them up.

Physical contact seemed to be the key. When I wasn’t touching Trevor, I couldn’t make anything move, even though he was still in my telepathic range. And Trevor could pick up thoughts from the other people in the house, but only when he and I were touching. However, he heard my mind much more clearly—even when we were in different rooms—even when I wasn’t conscious of sending him thoughts. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been sharing with him. With anyone else, I’d feel exposed and vulnerable, but this was Trevor.

He smiled at that.
Trust me, I know what you mean
. I’d been in his head for months, after all.

Okay, we could work with this. We’d been a little freaked with the possibility that we’d been changing each other’s brain structures. I curled against him in the privacy of the tiny office, drawing comfort from his presence. The peaceful sensation reminded me of Aruba and a sudden thought hit me.

We haven’t shared dreams in a while.

Embarrassed heat seeped across Trevor’s mind.

I laughed when I realized why he’d deliberately avoided lucid dreaming with me.
I wasn’t even thinking about that! I was just remembering Aruba. But if you think that doing things in dreams together would break your word to Dr. Williamson, I’ll promise not to dream-ravish your chaste and noble mind.

My mind is definitely NOT chaste and noble
, he replied, and the images—the detailed, intense fantasies he showed me—made my heart beat wildly. I closed my eyes, feeling the electric-red thrill on my skin. My panting breath matched Trevor’s as he showed me how he wanted to touch me, to do more than touch me, in ways that caused the heat to spread through my body, flushing my face and making me deliciously dizzy.
If we started doing things like this together in our dreams, I’m not sure I could keep myself from doing them with you in reality. You know how much I want you.

I kissed him, feeling the quiver in my hands as my fingers traced the contours of his face
. I say we use three different kinds of birth control and just go for it.

Trevor laughed, hugging me close.
I keep my word.

We aren’t sharing the church anymore,
I pointed out, undeterred.
I think we could get out of that promise on a technicality.

You really want to do this, don’t you?

You’re not the only one who has fantasies, you know.
I showed him a few images from my own mind. You don’t fall deeply in love with a guy who happens to have an extra set of hands without coming up with a few ideas as to how those hands might someday be put to use.

Trevor gasped, eyes widening then closing. A deep groan escaped from within him. Oh yes, he liked those ideas. We kissed deeply, shifting to get closer to each other in a desk chair that was clearly not designed for such use, when my cell phone rang. I had to pull away and get my panting breath under control before I could answer.

“Maddie, Nick Coleman here. I think this line is more secure than the one in my office, but we’ll treat it as though someone might be listening in, all right? Let me tell you what’s happening with Jon.”

Coleman had gotten the location where Dr. Williamson was detained, a secure facility in northern Virginia. The feds hadn’t allowed him to contact anyone. “I’ll catch the Acela train to D.C. tonight and try to get in to see him in the morning. If I can talk to the right people, there’s a good chance I can get Jon released tomorrow. Anything you want me to tell him?”

“Let him know what happened at Ganzfield—he might not be aware of it—and that we’re okay. We’re at my mom’s. Most of the others are with Seth at a McFee place in Connecticut.” I didn’t know what else to add.

What about Greg?
Trevor’s question filled my head.

“Oh! Dr. Williamson had a driver with him. Greg…” I could never remember Greg’s last name. I think he once said it was Turkish.

Greg Guchlu.

“Guchlu,” I finished.

“I’ll look into it. Anything else?”

“Did you get the names of the local Sons of Adam people?”

“Right. I got two for you: George Dovich and Robert Miller.” He gave us addresses. Miller was in Madison, only a couple of miles from us, while Dovich was out in Blairstown, less than an hour away.

“Thanks,” I said, sincerely.

“No problem. I’ll give Jon the bill.”

I wondered how much a charm lawyer charged by the hour. The answer came back to me like the punchline of a joke: whatever he wants.

*  *  *

My conscience tweaked again when Zack didn’t join us for dinner. I took a plate up once we’d finished. I needed to make peace, and my mom’s lasagna might be the key to solving the Middle East conflict—if only she could make it simultaneously kosher and halal.

I knocked—no answer. I knocked again, a little louder. I could feel Zack behind the door. Was he sulking? Still?

“Fine. Come in then.” Petulance tinged his voice.

At least his voice was back. Good.

“Brought you dinner… ” I put the plate on the little table next to the bed. My mom had decorated this room in reds and golds. The ridiculous number of little pillows that she’d arranged on the bed currently spilled in a haphazard pile on the floor. Zack sat on the far side of the bed, facing away from me, looking out the dark window. He winced when I turned on the light.

“What do you want, Maddie? Here to gloat?”

“No! I’m here to see that you’re okay and to bring you food. I also needed to say I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

I was getting annoyed. “No, you seem to be giving yourself plenty.”

I felt the hot flash of red anger in his mind. Had I damaged his shield somehow? Was that even possible? He turned to look at me. “Look. You beat me today. You won. I lost.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s training, not a competition.”

It’s not about training.

I suddenly understood. He felt especially humiliated today because Trevor was right—Zack was attracted to me. He’d wanted to impress me and instead, I’d sucker-punched his male ego.

“Oh.”

His eyes locked on mine and his shield snapped back into place.

I needed to leave. Zack’s face looked calculating…predatory…smug—as though he’d suddenly thought of a way to win, after all. He stood up as I headed for the door.

“Stay a little while,” he said, pleasantly, and I found I wanted to. “You’re not going to attack me again. You’re going to leave my shield alone.” All of that seemed very reasonable to me. Zack walked around the end of the bed. Standing very close to me now, he reached around me and quietly closed the door. I had a sudden flashback of Del and his friends in the van. Something cold ran through my core. It was suddenly hard to breathe.

“You’re going to kiss me now,” he said, moving closer.

My lips parted.
This is wrong.
In a corner of my mind, part of me started yelling.
Fight it! Fight back!
That part could see that he was using his ability on me, even though I couldn’t hear the resonance in his voice. His mental shield allowed him to do this to me. A rush of blood-red energy gave me strength.
No.
I was
not
going to be a victim. Not back in the van—and not now.

Zack leaned in. I pushed as hard as I could against his chest. I felt like a weak little girl—he was physically much stronger than me. But I wasn’t just a physical person. Struggling against his charm-orders caused pain to shoot through my forehead like a metal spike, but I had to do it. I stabbed at his mind with my ability, jabbing him with an echoing
no!

It was one of my worst efforts—his shield prevented me from connecting properly. But it was enough to get his attention. He stepped back in surprise, prepared for an additional mental attack. Instead, I ducked around him, yanked the door open, and flung myself down the stairs.

I collided with Trevor as he rushed up, reacting to the distress he’d felt from me. He caught me in his arms and steadied me, holding me close. Being in physical contact intensified the transmission and he saw everything flash through my memory. His arms gripped me more tightly as his anger built.

Wait here,
he growled, barely thinking in words.

He was at the top of the stairs in a single leap. The guest room door flew open with a bang. Zack didn’t even have time to turn around before Trevor had an invisible hand at his throat, squeezing his larynx. Zack made a sick, wet sound as Trevor moved lethally fast to stand inches from him. The pure, white-hot anger from Trevor’s mind hit me like a furnace blast.

Trevor leaned in close to Zack, looking down into his eyes. In a near whisper, he said, “If you ever try
anything
like that with Maddie again, I will squeeze your heart to a tiny pulp inside your chest.”

Zack’s eyes widened even further. He understood that this was a literal, not poetic, turn of phrase.

“Do you understand?”

Zack tried to nod, a difficult and painful thing for someone held by the larynx. Trevor looked hard at Zack’s face for a moment, letting it sink in. He released Zack suddenly, stepping away from him as he slid to the floor.

“Hannah can fix up your throat later.” Trevor closed the door behind him.

He came down the stairs, taking my hand but avoiding my eyes, as he nearly pulled me out the back door and into the deep blue evening. We moved quickly though the backyard, away from the house.

Trevor ran his hands first over his face then through his hair.
Is Maddie okay? I can’t believe I lost control like that. I’ve never been that angry before. What’s wrong with me?
He paced back and forth in front of me, as though the jittery, excess energy could be dispelled through the movement of his feet.

Finally, I caught his hand in mine. He stopped moving and looked at our intertwined fingers. I reached up and touched the side of his face. My hand trembled against his cheek. I couldn’t stop shaking. Zack’s actions had resonated with my most frightening memories, which made them seem so much worse.

Trevor still evaded my gaze. I slid my hand behind his head, bringing him closer to me until our foreheads touched. I closed my eyes and gave him full connection to my mind, feeling his jumble of turbulent emotions mix with my own. We stood there, letting the strongest feelings flash between us, wash over us, and then slowly subside. Our breathing slowed as the worst of my memories drained off.