Grace wolfed down the last bite of her breakfast. Omelet, toast, and sausages, with orange juice on the side. No point in starving herself. She'd need all the strength she could muster to accomplish her goals, which included getting the hell out of this house ASAP. That moment of possibility wouldn't arrive until she milked Amador for everything she could — information, tricks of the ESP trade, and anything else she could think of.
When Wickham had brought the food, she suffered a bout of panic. What if her breakfast was poisoned? Or drugged? But then she flashed back to her reaction when Amador touched her, and she knew. He required no drugs or poison to control her. Regardless of whether she'd finally toppled over to the dark side, her mental state provided him with all the leverage he needed, without chemical assistance.
Unless he'd drugged her while she was unconscious.
She had no clue what was going on anymore. With herself. With David. With any of this. She no longer enjoyed the luxury of choosing her allies. Amador had selected her, and Tesler's men drove her into Amador's corner.
Her hunger sated, she leaned back and endeavored to seem relaxed, despite the tension crackling inside her. Amador lounged in a chair on the opposite side of the wooden table. He had also eaten, though food remnants littered his plate. Her plate was empty. Eggs never tasted so good before.
Amador pushed his chair back and stood. "Please excuse me. I must attend to some business. It won't take long, though, and I believe we should talk afterward."
"Okay." Whatever. She had no plans to flee yet, since she had nowhere to go.
"Wait here for me." He ambled out of the room.
The door lock engaged with a click.
Guest or prisoner? Question answered.
Well, at least he hadn't laid his hands on her again. Yet.
A shiver skittered down her spine. Amador's skin on hers had infected her with an eerie warmth and a disturbing slackness. The first time she met Amador, he kissed her hand — and she felt nothing. This morning, similar contact knocked her off balance, and nearly thrust her into a tailspin. Worst of all, the one person she could've talked this out with was incommunicado.
She missed David, so badly.
Was he still alive? Their connection buzzed between them, albeit with far less strength than usual. She tugged on the link. Nothing. No reciprocal pull from his end.
Leaning her head back against the chair, she closed her eyes and tugged harder. Zippo. No tautening of the link. No glowy warmth from their constant, low-grade connection. No sense of his well-being, good or bad. Their bond persisted, but David seemed unable or unwilling to tap into it. Even if he stopped caring about her, which she'd believe on the day the sky turned pink, he would permit their link to pulse back to her a signal of his status. Injured, safe. Alive, dead.
The connection fed her zilch. This was bad. Very bad.
A chill sparked in her gut, blossoming outward into her entire body. The hairs on her arms and neck stiffened. Goose bumps prickled her skin. A bitter taste oozed over her tongue, the sourness of bile rising in her throat. A tugging, wrenching pressure tore through her gut. Not physical pain. It originated from her soul.
David, what have we done to each other?
She needed to ascertain why they'd lost contact. She thought of one reason, but pushed it away, unwilling to let it linger in her mind. It couldn't be. He wasn't —
No. His death would've wrenched her inside out. He was alive, somewhere.
Her hands clenched the chair's arms. She worked on releasing the tension in her body and mind with slow, deep breaths. It took far longer than she would've liked, but at last, numbness drove out the world around her. She barreled into the crossroads and scanned the stars around her. Not a single star reacted to her presence.
An icy chill, transmitted her body, mutated into a subzero shiver.
He wasn't dead. She refused to believe it. Until she witnessed his body, lifeless and bloody, she would never believe it.
Come on, David, show me the way.
An echo of power rippled through the crossroads to caress her mind. She latched onto the intimate feel of the familiar energy, scaling up it inch by inch.
A force hurled her away.
She plummeted back into her body. Unable to slow the descent, she hit so hard her body convulsed. Her jaw clamped tight, and pains shot through her head.
A hand enveloped hers. A finger massaged her palm, tracing ever-widening circles in her flesh. Warmth infected her skin, and then her muscles. The tingling swelled and expanded through her body. Her mind switched into a new mode, a cross between total relaxation and pure alertness.
Her eyelids flew open. Slumped in the chair, she jerked upright. Her heart pounded. She gaped at the man kneeling before her.
Gabriel Amador caught her gaze with a serene expression. His finger drew circles on her palm, sending out pulses of heat that intensified the tingling in her body and melted her brain. She couldn't hold onto a thought. Couldn't shake the connection unfurling between them, a tether that cinched tighter each second. This was wrong. The tether slithered deeper into her, alien and cold.
The impulse to jerk free of him flared inside her, but her muscles ignored her commands. Her voice came out breathless. "What are you doing to me?"
"Helping you to relax."
Run. This instant. Go, run, get away.
Go where? Her inner voice offered no answer. She was trapped. The realization whipped her out of the fog, into the harshness of her new reality. Trapped.
No, goddammit. She'd escape, if she had to claw her way through the house's foundation to do it — after she mined Amador for what she needed.
Gritting her teeth while feigning nonchalance demanded a serious effort. Either her efforts paid off, or Amador simply didn't care she was deceiving him. "Are you relaxing me by psychic means?"
His lips tightened into a frown. "No, Grace. I am not employing any psychic powers. This is a purely mundane method." He reached for her hand. She clasped it to her belly. Sighing, he said, "No one can breach your psychic barrier. Yes?"
She shrugged. "As far as I know."
Amador's frown morphed into a knowing smile.
The urge to gnaw on her lip itched inside her. She resisted. Although she was far from reassured, letting Amador glimpse her unease struck her as a really dumb idea. Pet the dragon, don't pinch his scales. "You're right. I'm sorry."
He rubbed his palm over the back of her hand.
She bit the inside of her cheek — an action hidden from his view. "I'm ready. For whatever ideas you have about my powers."
"Excellent." He released her hand. "My first suggestion may sound extreme, but please consider it carefully before refusing."
Nothing good ever followed a statement like that. "I will."
"I would like to administer a serum."
Panic surged through her, jolting her pulse into overdrive. Her knuckles ached from gripping the chair's arms.
Amador laid a hand on her arm. "Please, don't be afraid. It's a drug my company has been working on. The serum is designed to foster a sense of calm and relaxation that will, I hope, enhance a person's psychic abilities."
A hard shiver rushed through her. "Is this JT's formula?"
He shook his head. "I wouldn't do that to you. His formula was barbaric and inhumane. My company strives for safe, gentle formulations."
"Your company? I thought you ran a venture capital thing."
"I do. Through a shell company I own other interests, including a pharmaceutical research firm."
He sounded reasonable. Even lunatics could pull that off sometimes.
At least the heat in her body had dissipated. She felt almost normal again.
Frowning, she eyed Amador. "Is this what you meant when you said you could help me with my powers? That you'd give me drugs?"
"No. I thought it couldn't hurt, though."
As much as she loathed admitting it, she needed help. His help. If he could do what he claimed. Her firewall blocked his psychic intrusions, but if he could teach her a few tricks then maybe, just maybe, she'd shed the migraines. For good.
Her feet wiggled, urging her to escape this place.
Rebelling against every fiber of her being, she said, "If you have some other, non-pharmaceutical way to help me use my powers without getting horribly sick from it, then I'm listening."
He opened his mouth to speak.
"No drugs," she said. "That's my rule, and it is nonnegotiable."
"I understand. We'll employ other means. What psychic task may I assist you with first?"
He uttered the phrase in a tone reminiscent of a customer service guy answering a phone call. She brushed aside the mild humor of that and said, "I need to find David. Fast."
Amador nodded. "Let's get started."
He dragged a chair closer to her. She prayed he could help her, because if he couldn't…
David was alive. And she would find him.
"Close your eyes," Amador said. He clasped her hand in his. As the warmth infiltrated her body, spiraling her into oblivion, he told her, "Free your mind from thoughts. Hear only my voice. Feel my touch. Let it anchor you on your flight into the crossroads. Do not try. Simply be."
Thoughts fled. The weight of her own body, the firmness of the chair beneath her, the scent of leather, the ticking of a clock — everything drifted away from her until she floated in a void, numb and disconnected. Two things penetrated the emptiness.
Amador's skin pressed to hers. And his voice, deep and soft.
"Are you there?" he asked.
"Not yet." Her voice murmured from a distant galaxy.
His skin stroked hers.
She soared, like a cloud in the wind, up through the dark tunnel. No pressure. No struggle. She glided out into the crossroads.
"Yes," Amador said. "You are there, aren't you? Don't think. Don't fight. Let your mind do your will of its own volition."
A vague thought reared its head. His instructions made no sense. Her mind was her will. To effect her will, she must think.
"No. You are trying to implement your desires, aren't you? Stop. Empty your mind. Feel what you wish."
His hand. Warm. Smooth. Real. She relaxed into his touch, letting her mind go vacant. She floated there, among the glittering stars, overcome by a seductive sense of belonging. This place knew her. It hungered for her. And she for it. The energy of the crossroads, of its hidden reaches, tantalized her with the promise of boundless power.
"That's right," Amador said in a throaty whisper. "You understand now."
A star beckoned her. A connection. A human mind.
David.
Grace rocketed toward the light, through it, beyond it. A giddy energy excited her psychic senses. She drank it in, her mind swimming. The thirst for more burned inside her.
The tunnel expelled her into gray fog, whirling her downward.
She smashed headfirst into a granite wall.
Agony stripped her nerves raw. Lightning gored her astral body. Psychic energy spewed out of her, sucked her dry, cast her aside. She smacked into the wall.
And screamed.