A chill wind sizzled through the treetops as David crouched behind a jack pine for shelter. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. Despite his clothing — olive green camouflage — he preferred to hide behind the tree while scouting the location. He must enact every precaution, not just for himself, but for Grace too.
He never should've left her.
Stop thinking about it. You're here now, focus on that.
He exercised caution for someone else besides Grace. He did it for Sean.
The teenage boy crouched behind another tree, an arm's length from David. At seventeen, Sean fancied himself a man, yet David had trouble thinking of him as anything other than the cowering boy he met while interned at the facility in California's remote Mojave Desert. Tesler and his cronies at ALI had exulted in tormenting anyone with paranormal powers, whatever their age. The memory of his first encounter with Sean replayed in his mind — the boy curled up in the fetal position on his bed, a blanket lumped on top of him, cocooning him from head to toe. That had been less than a year ago.
Today, Sean crouched behind a tree dressed in camouflage, his red hair shaved into a buzz cut and his expression stern, the portrait of a commando wannabe. Sean might've shed his outward fear, but David sensed it lurking underneath, like a pond cloaked in ice.
The wind gusted, shaking the trees.
Panic flashed across Sean's face, blanching his fair skin. His freckles stood out against the pallor, like stars in reverse. Sean locked his green eyes on David for a second. Then the boy shrugged, twisted his mouth into an annoyed expression, and swung his gaze back to the object of their investigation.
David leaned sideways to peer around the tree. There, about a hundred feet away inside a clearing, hunkered a metal shed about ten feet square and eight feet tall. High above, a satellite dish clung to the trunk of a towering tree, mounted near the top. Nothing else hinted at the presence of anything more sinister than squirrels. Still, he and Sean needed to keep an eye out for the wildlife, as well as security personnel. If this was the new facility, then it would have security, of the covert kind.
David glanced at Sean. The boy pointed at his eyes with two fingers and then shut his lids. It was a signal they had developed. It meant one of them should remote view the location in question. Sean opened his eyes and pointed one finger at his chest.
David shook his head. He indicated his own chest.
Sean slumped his shoulders and rolled his eyes, his way of saying I'm not a baby anymore, you overprotective dork.
David supposed teenagers didn't say dork anymore. Whatever the derogatory phrase associated with it, the expression conveyed petulance. Sean wanted to take a more active role in their investigations, but David clung to his overprotective instinct. Besides, he was better at RV'ing than Sean was.
And the boy knew it. That was part of the sentiment behind the eye rolling.
Closing his eyes, David let his mind go blank. He soared up into the crossroads, hunting for the path that would lead him into the facility — if the metal shed concealed a facility. A star in the crossroads pulsed, and he latched on, letting it pull him ever downward, spiraling through a dark tunnel.
He hurtled out into the real world.
Light blinded him. He winced and flung up a hand to shield his eyes. Though no one else could see him, and he had no physical body when remote viewing, he always envisioned himself in a physical form. So far as he knew, all travelers experienced it this way. The human mind, even when disconnected from its body, fought to make sense of its surroundings in a familiar way. That was his theory, at least.
He stood in a corridor. The white glare swallowed its details. With each second that ticked past, his vision acclimated to the light. After a moment that felt like forever, but must've eaten up no more than thirty seconds, he discerned more of his surroundings.
The brilliant glow emanated from bulbs recessed into the ceiling. He shuffled down the corridor, past closed doors set into the walls at regular intervals. White paint coated everything except the floor. Even the door knobs were white. His phantom shoes traveled over the pale gray linoleum in silence. He spotted no markings on the first two doors. As he strode deeper into the facility, he watched for signs of life, or at least an actual sign to clue him in on what function this place served.
The doors did bear markings, he realized, though none that made sense to him. Alongside each door, at waist level, raised figures — dots, lines, and squares — designated each door with a unique code. It looked like Morse code, or a strange kind of Braille. He reached out to finger the markings, but of course, with no physical body he couldn't touch them. His fingers met emptiness.
The ventilation system hissed overhead. He crept down the hall, glancing at each doorway he passed, spotting nothing that might alert him to this building's purpose. Another facility? Another hellhole where Tesler tortured psychics? He clenched his jaw. His teeth ground against each other. He must thwart the scientist, whatever the cost. Tesler must never get his claws into Grace or Sean or anyone else.
David rubbed his forehead, his mouth going dry. He'd essentially left Sean alone outside this building. The boy longed to expand his powers. Would he attempt more advanced feats of psychic ability while David was distracted in here? He hoped he'd taught Sean better than that, but the boy's impulse to grab more power was strong. A couple weeks ago, he told David, "I want to manifest. That would be so cool."
"You can't."
"Why not?"
David had shrugged. "You're not Grace."
"But I'm strong too. Why can't I manifest like she does? Why can't you?"
"Because we are nowhere near as strong as Grace is." He'd laid a hand on Sean's shoulder then. "We can't manifest without her help. Accept it."
Naturally, Sean balked at the suggestion. The truth was irrefutable, though. David knew of no other travelers who could manifest. He'd heard rumors, but nothing concrete. As far as he knew, Grace alone possessed the ability to manifest a physical body, for herself or for others.
A thwapping reverberated down the corridor, from around a corner twenty feet ahead. David froze. The noise grew louder and louder, nearer and nearer. He backed against the wall, locking his gaze on the corner. Thwap, thwap.
Murmuring. Nearby. Getting closer. The thwapping sharpened into clomp, clomp, clomp.
Two men dressed in white lab coats traipsed into view. They paused at the intersection.
David hesitated twenty feet away. David pressed his body into the wall, a human pancake on a vertical skillet. He knew the men couldn't see him — he had no physical body — but the instinct to conceal himself tugged too hard. He'd given up trying to rationalize the urge a long time ago.
"I know what the boss wants," the older of the two men said. He ran a hand through his rim of gray hair and over his bald crown. "It's a bad idea."
"We do what he tells us," the younger man said, "no matter what we think of it. That's called doing our jobs, Yellen."
"Even JT couldn't contain her. How the hell are we supposed to?"
The younger man shook his head, tousling his shoulder-length chestnut hair. "We do whatever we have to do."
Yellen snorted. "That's easy for you to say, Evans. You won't be involved in the containment process. If she lashes out, I'll die but you'll be safe and sound in your office."
"She won't lash out. The boss will keep her under control."
Her. She. A double-edged blade of fear and realization sliced through David. They couldn't mean…
No, God, please.
"I don't like this induction program," Yellen said. The crow's feet around his eyes deepened as he tensed his features. "Don't care if Jackson Tennant himself dreamed it up, he was a lunatic after all."
"The boss isn't." Evans adjusted his black-rimmed glasses with one finger. "If he wants the girl, then we help him get her. If his methods don't work, then we use our well-tested induction procedures to bring her in. It's our job."
Yellen's shoulders deflated, accentuating his flabby physique. He scowled at his fit colleague. "I know. But she blew up our best facility. We still haven't recovered from the loss of data and materials. Besides, I don't care to be blown to smithereens, not even in the pursuit of knowledge and scientific advancement."
Evans snickered. "You really think that's why we're doing all this? Scientific advancement?"
"Why else?"
"Power, man. Power." Evans leaned closer to Yellen, as if sharing a secret. "Whoever controls these freaks and their powers has the potential to control the world. If we do what the boss wants, then he might let us share in the spoils, get it?"
Yellen harrumphed.
The younger man sighed. "We do what the boss wants. Nothing more, nothing less."
The older man studied the floor for a couple seconds. Then he raised his head and nodded. "You're right. We execute our duties, no matter what. Doesn't mean I have to like it."
"Induction works, dude."
Yellen jerked his head in a curt nod and grimaced.
Evans lifted his angular chin. "One way or another, either willingly or by force, we will bring in Grace Powell."
David jerked as if Evans had punched him in the gut. Pressure borne deep inside him pulverized his heart. This was what he'd feared for six months, the impetus for his obsession, and yet he hadn't really believed it could happen. Until now.
His insides crystallized into ice. His heart thudded in his chest, and although he knew it wasn't a real heart, the pounding ached no less than the genuine article. This must end. Today. This instant.
But first, he had to warn Grace.
Anguish tunneled straight through his heart into his soul. He collapsed to his knees, the imagined bones hitting the floor in silence. How could he have abandoned her, knowing about her vision and the telepathic intruder? What if the brain hacker obeyed Tesler's orders? This was all his fault.
So save her, jackass.
He snapped upright. Last time, she'd rescued him from a facility much like this one. But this time around, he would rescue her. He'd strap on his macho and gun down anyone who got in his way. No one would hurt Grace. No one.
Holding his position inside the facility, he stretched out his powers to connect with Grace. To contact anyone else, he'd have to retreat into the crossroads. With Grace, he required nothing more than to think of her. To fully contact her, to ascertain her whereabouts and communicate with her, he must strengthen the connection. Feed power into it. Widen the pathway.
A shock jolted through him. Everything around him spun. His mind whirled out of control. Pain, sharp and hot, gored him on a metaphysical level. His lock on the facility frayed. He struggled to link with Grace, but the shock walloped him again. His RV grip on the facility disintegrated. His mind shot upward, through the tunnel, into the crossroads. He twirled and twirled, like a top set loose on a smooth table. Lights blurred around him. He couldn't latch onto any one light, couldn't grasp any connection that might guide him out of here. Every time he flailed for a hold, his mind pitched backward as if it bounced off —
A wall.
Shit. Grace had built a psychic barrier so strong nothing could ram through it, not even him.
His mind tumbled out of the crossroads, spiraling downward. He punched back into his body. For precious seconds, he struggled to breathe, to see, to untangle the sensory input overwhelming his brain. The surroundings blurred and mingled. His head pounded, his chest ached, and his head throbbed. Cradling his head in his hands, he forced his lungs to draw in deep breaths. Grace endured headaches after using her powers. He didn't. The amount of energy demanded by traveling drained him, yes, but it triggered no pain.
Until today.
The world around him coalesced into recognizable shapes. Trees. Bushes. Grass. The stench of sweat permeated the air. A breeze chilled his chest through his damp shirt. Between his fingers, he glimpsed Sean staring at him. Eyes wide. Face pale. Lips parted. David's stress must've showed on his face. He worked to erase the pained expression. He must've succeeded, because the color returned to Sean's face, though he still gaped as if David had grown a pair of horns. Just to make sure, David palpated his head. No horns.
Sean whispered, "You looked like you were dying."
"I'm fine," David said in an equally soft voice.
He did feel better. The pounding in his head had dissipated, although an intense fatigue blanketed him. Sweat dribbled down his temples. He swiped it away with the back of his hand.
Grace's firewall blocked him, and yet, before leaving the house he'd gifted her with his emotions, in a last-ditch effort to reinforce their connection, even as he recognized the need to temper it, for her sake. She'd built her new psychic defenses before that. Their link wasn't severed, merely dampened. Maybe he could get through, if he calculated it just right and —
No time to think about it.
Grace was in danger. Tesler's minions had honed their sights in on her. They would storm the house and capture her, if they hadn't already.
His throat tightened. He clenched his hands into fists, the nails digging into his palms. Pain sparked in his flesh. To warn Grace, he'd have to resort to old-fashioned, purely physical means.
He dug out his phone. A text message wouldn't do. She might not heed his warning unless she heard it from him directly. But if this facility boasted the kind of security he'd encountered at the Mojave Desert location, then the system might detect voices outside. He couldn't risk talking loud enough for Grace to hear him over the phone. But he must warn her.
Screw it. If a security squad lassoed him, so be it.
David caught Sean's attention by waving his hand. Then he risked speaking in a louder, though still hushed, voice. "Get out of here. I'll meet you at the car."
Sean shook his head.
David mouthed, "Go."
Sean glared at him for a second, but then rose into a semi-crouch and trotted back the way they'd come. His footfalls shooshed on the grass and dirt, barely audible. David prayed no one else heard Sean's movements.
He tapped the phone's touch screen, dialing a programmed number.
Sean's silhouette vanished from sight. His footsteps faded into silence. With any luck, the boy had reached a safe distance.
The call transferred to Grace's voicemail. Her cheery voice instructed him to leave a message at the tone. His gut churned. Acid soured his tongue. How soon would she retrieve her messages? Dammit. He'd assumed he could catch her and deliver the news as close to face-to-face as possible.
A long beep rattled his eardrums. He had a minute, maybe two, to convince her before the blasted voicemail cut him off.
"Grace, it's me," he said. "Please listen carefully. Tesler's men are coming for you. Do not stay at home. Do not use your cell after this. Hang up, ditch the phone, and get the hell out of there. Your psychic firewall is — "
Click. The line went dead.
A low battery warning flashed on the screen.
David jumped to his feet. He must get home. As fast as possible.
Sean stumbled out of the woods straight ahead of David. The boy scowled, his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. I tried to get away."
"Away from what?" David eyed Sean through slitted eyes. The boy held his hands behind his back. He slouched forward, knees bent. "What's wrong? Are you injured?"
Two figures traipsed out of the trees behind Sean. The burly men wielded semiautomatic handguns, both trained on Sean. A third man emerged from the woods to David's left. The newcomer targeted his weapon at David. All three men wore camouflage outfits with military-style boots and two-way radios clipped to their belts.
The closest man, the one fixated on David, said, "You're coming with us."
David attempted to look confused. "We were just out for a hike. Didn't mean to cause any trouble."
The man shook his head, an unfriendly smile on his lips. "We aren't that stupid. And besides, we know who you are. David Ransom and Sean Vandenbrook. Ain't facial recognition software awesome?"
David exhaled a long sigh. What energy he had left flooded out of him. He must've talked too loudly, or for too long, on the phone with Grace. And he'd gotten Sean wrapped up in his mess.
"Take me," David said, "but let the boy go. I'm the one you want."
"Nice offer," the stranger said. "But I don't think so."
The man shoved a hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out a nylon zip tie.
David surveyed the area for an escape route. He spied more human-shaped figures in the woods, encircling them like wolves homing in on their prey. David grabbed for his gun, berthed in a shoulder holster under his jacket.
One of the men behind Sean jammed his gun into the boy's temple.
The other man, the only one who'd spoken so far, told David, "Make it easier on both of you. Don't fight."
He couldn't fight, not with so many of them versus him and Sean. In any other situation, he might've tapped into his powers to barge his way out of this mess. Since he'd emptied his energy reserves in the failed effort to contact Grace, he had nothing left to fight them with.
At least Grace knew of the danger to her. Getting captured was worth any torment that might follow, if it meant Grace would be safe.
David dropped his gun.
Tesler had won this round.