Legacy (10 page)

“No, Lilith.” Trevor’s eyes danced with mine as we both held in our laughter. He ended the call as soon as he decently could without being abrupt.

And that’s how I entered the Laurence family lore
:
“That strange girl Trevor brought to dinner.”

CHAPTER 6

When we finally got back to Ganzfield, I sought out my mom. I knew she’d need to see firsthand that I was safe. Her hug tightened as she read more of the details of the trip in my memory. I felt a small thread of panic weave through me when it seemed she had no intention of letting go.

Once back in our church, Trevor and I both crashed and slept for nearly twelve hours. In the morning, we finally got up in time for Sunday brunch. Sheets of rain twisted across the lake and the field, winding like enormous kite-tails caught in the gusts. Fat splotches flattened against Trevor’s invisible arm “umbrella” over us.

We joined Drew, Harrison, Ellen, and Grant McFee at the table. Grant still got freaked out by my mental-voice-rather-than-talking-like-a-normal-person thing. This morning he had a strange image in his head—me as Trevor’s ventriloquist dummy. I sighed and tried to remind myself of how little his opinion mattered. I bit my lip—it didn’t matter, right?

Speaking of freaks…the mental temperature in the dining room shot up as pornographic thoughts erupted all around us. Three separate fires flashed around the room as some of the sparks lost control. The flames died back quickly, accompanied by the snickering of others at the tables.

Someone has the hots for the new charm!

I looked up to see Belinda framed in the doorway.

She assessed the room with disdain.
I wonder if the food is as bland as I remember it
.
I see that the décor is still tasteless, at least.

Half the room assessed her underdressed assets right back.

She caught sight of me and her diamond-hard anger slashed at my mind. Belinda sauntered with false casualness toward our table.

Geez! Who wore spike heels like that in a rural place like this? She must impale the lawn with every step. I reached for Trevor’s hand, not sure which one of us needed the other’s protection.

“Why, hello, Little Minder-Girl.”

Arrrgh
! I hated her fake-sweet tone.

She leaned in as if she were going to tell me something confidential, although her real purpose was to angle her cleavage into Trevor’s face. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to share?”

I felt the killing energy flare up within my mind. I looked down at her stupid shoes and squeezed Trevor’s hand harder as I fought to control myself. I knew if I saw the smirk on her face, I wouldn’t be able to keep from blasting her.

Back. The Hell. Off.

Little Minder-Girl’s too weak to even look me in the eye.
She leaned in close to my ear. “Jon won’t let you do anything to me. He needs me too much.” A twinkly-cute laugh brushed against my cheek. “Why, with a few words, I could have everyone in this room—” A sick, strangling sound cut off her description of the catfight-style, mass hair-pulling she’d been contemplating.

It was wrong how much I enjoyed watching Belinda slink, red-faced and rage-filled, from the building. I kept hold of Trevor’s hand, feeling my heart beat rabbit-fast against my ribs.
Thank you.

He smiled into my eyes.
If someone messes with one of us, they mess with both of us.

After brunch, I headed upstairs to Williamson’s office. He looked up from his computer as I came in.
How’d it go?

I closed the door and flopped into a chair by his desk.
The trip was a waste of time—at least as far as Ganzfield’s concerned.
I gave him the play-by-play of my mental investigation of Trevor’s stepmother’s memories.

At least Trevor got to see his family and they got to meet you.

I snorted.
Yeah, I made a wonderful impression, especially with his grandmother. I bet by now she’s knitting us matching outfits. We can look like twins!

Williamson rolled his eyes.
I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.

I snorted again and shook my head.

So what was the point of us going? We didn’t learn anything that’ll help us stop Isaiah Learner from killing again.

Not true. We now have a good idea of how large his remote-viewing range is. He changed direction and went after you from more than two hundred miles away. Of course, he may be able to sense even further; Charlie Fontaine’s range was over a thousand miles.
He frowned.
And we learned one more thing, Maddie.

Huh?

Isaiah saw you two away from the rest of us and tracked you for hours. He went after YOU.

The implication slid into me like a steel knife.
You want to use us as bait again, Jon?

Not without your permission.
He knew that was still a sore point.

Let me talk to Trevor about it. If you can think of a good enough plan, we’d probably be up for it.

Well…

What? You already have a plan?

I’m considering one, yes.

I realized how much of his mind was shielded from me. I only felt the bare essence of consciousness from him.
So? What is it?

That’s the problem. If I tell you—

—
you’ll have to kill me?

Isaiah might read it from your mind. Or Trevor’s.

I pondered that.
Which would basically defeat the purpose of having a “secret” plan.

Pretty much.

It also means you expect Isaiah’s going to be close enough to read us, and that I may not be able to shield properly when he tries. Are we going after him?

Williamson frowned and didn’t answer.

Trevor’s pretty set on getting Isaiah. After he saw what happened to Jared Davis and his family, he’s ready to accept a certain amount of risk for us.

For you?
Williamson gave a skeptical look.

For us. Together. Package deal.

Ah.
He understood.

How about you? Are you okay with some risk?

I smiled at him.
C’mon, Jon. We both know I’m like a daughter to you! You’re not going to set up a plan that puts me in terrible danger, are you?

He didn’t answer and his thoughts had gone completely opaque. A cold-grey wave of energy slid from my throat to my gut.
Uh-oh. Are you shielding because you’re thinking about the secret plan right now...or is it because you’re not that fond of me and you want to spare my feelings?

He smiled and humphed. “Knock it off. You know you’re one of the daughters I never had.”

I warmed at that.

“But I’m trying to assess the risk. I don’t want to put you in danger.”

Okay. I’ll go sound out Trevor—see if he can live with being part of a plan that we’re not allowed to know.

“You two are on patrol tonight, all right? We’ve been short-handed the last few nights. Actually, I think we’ll need you to take overnight shifts through most of the week.”

Williamson didn’t miss my silent groan.

I found Trevor hanging out in the sparks’ TV room, which overflowed with people watching the Red Sox game. The four mismatched couches had been garage sale quality even before scorch-marks had been added to the upholstery, and the two in back rested on cinderblock risers—Drew and Harrison’s version of stadium seating.

I’d supplied the new television and the satellite receiver, but none of the sparks knew that. My hand-printed sign adorned the wall behind the set:

No matter how the Red Sox do,

it is not the TV’s fault.

A few rude remarks had been penciled in around the edges, but the sign hadn’t been turned to ash—yet. After all the fried TVs last year, Williamson eventually had stopped replacing them. The first had exploded after the Yankees won by a single run in the bottom of the ninth. The second had melted into a blob of plastic and glass in another Yankee-related fit of anguish. The third had flared up like a fireplace log when a guy had snuck in one night to watch porn. But the fourth TV had crisped in a cloud of nasty-smelling grey smoke during the postseason.

I sat next to Trevor, but couldn’t get into the game. Watching pro sports had never been my thing and too many people here looked at me with heads full of anxious thoughts.

Crap. Here comes the thought police.

Before the mission in Peapack, most of the sparks had seen me just as Trevor’s girlfriend. Most hadn’t thought of me as a minder—because I usually hadn’t acted like one. Now, though, I couldn’t even say “hi” without reminding people that I was in their heads.

She’s like Isaiah Lerner. She could kill me with a thought anytime she wanted to.

Considering that most of the people in this room could set me on fire with nothing more than a strong intention, fearing my ability seemed a little hypocritical to me, but whatever.

If she hadn’t gone in to stop Isaiah alone, Sean would still be alive.

That one put a hard knot in my gut every time I heard it.

Geez! It’s so creepy how she and Trevor just stare at each other. It’s like she’s a thought-sucking parasite that’s latched on to him.

Ugh. And now Grant had that ventriloquist dummy image in his head again. That didn’t even make any sense! I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d had enough. I headed back to the church, alone. Thoughts as grey as the weather filled my head. I didn’t want to cause unhappiness for Trevor. I didn’t want him to lose friends because we were together. He liked spending time with his friends and I wanted him to have things that gave him joy.
Even if it means hanging out with a bunch of JERKS. DAMMIT! I nearly died trying to save them! I have permanent BRAIN DAMAGE from trying to save them! You’d think they’d be a little grateful or something…even if I didn’t finish off Isaiah. At least he can’t charm anymore, right? At least he didn’t get a chance to send more people to kill us, right?

I propped myself up against the headboard and spent the afternoon trying to read. I should’ve been able to relax—the only mental activity in my head was my own—but flashbacks of other people’s unpleasant thoughts and the mental touches of the grumpy, wet birds and other little creatures outside made my brain itch.

I pulled out a bright smile when Trevor returned, but I didn’t fool him.

“I could’ve spent the afternoon with you.” Guilt muddied his thoughts. He felt like he’d ignored me, even though it’d been my idea to come home early. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back with you.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back to lean against his chest. His cheek rested against my hair and I felt the worst of my bad mood melt away as we listened to the rain patter against the roof.

I wanted you to have some time to hang out with your friends. I don’t have to be with you every second.

“I actually
want
you with me every second.” His words made a warm red glow pulse within me. “I love you.”
And I love the fact that you know what I’m thinking all the time.

It still amazes me that you feel that way. You’re so much better than I deserve.

Not true. I abandoned you this afternoon.

I don’t want you to feel bad!
I turned to meet his eyes.
And I don’t want to come between you and your friends.

I’d rather be with you, Maddie. You’re more important to me than they are.

Okay, super double bonus points for Trevor.

Best. Boyfriend. Ever.

My vision got all glimmery and I felt the urge to buy him a building or something.
You enjoy spending time with them. I want you to have that. It would make me unhappy if you lost that because of me, okay?

So, basically, you’re asking me to neglect you because it’d make you happy.
He gave a laughing snort at my logic, but I knew he understood me.

I loved the way he understood me.

The newly-warm weather made night patrol more tolerable than it’d been for most of the spring. Two people monitored the security feeds in the basement of one of the boys’ dorms. Another dozen of us put on Kevlar vests, grabbed two-way radios, and took positions along the perimeter wall. Trevor and I passed our shift in the little patrol house, walking along the wall once an hour, and drinking tepid thermos coffee to stay awake. The near-full moon lit the night with an opal glow, palely outlining the trees.

We’d had a practice drill the last time Trevor and I’d been on patrol. Even the imagined threat was enough to spike everyone’s thoughts with bright yellow splashes of fear, and the heavy load of secondhand anxiety had made me feel like I’d drunk about four double espressos. The attack on Ganzfield had been only a few months ago—the danger was still too real. Most of us felt older than we should—our souls had hardened in the past few months. Some people had grown stronger…while others had become brittle.

How useful was I on guard duty, really? My short mental range couldn’t detect an attack from very far away. Hell, I couldn’t even use the walkie-talkie. Why was it called that, anyway?

Stupid name.