The Forbidden Trilogy(19)

"I don't want you to go. Can't you stay? Please? I promise I'll be good!" He looked at me with those big sad eyes.

I fought back the tears. "No matter what, remember that I love you. If you ever get scared, just close your eyes and meet me in that special room we made together in our minds. Remember?"

"Yes, Sam, I remember." His voice cracked on my name. Tears slid down his soft, baby cheeks.

"I'll always be able to hear you, and you'll know I'm there, okay?" I hoped. Having memorized his mental frequency, I planned to check up on him, if I could reach that far. Maybe once out on my own, I could find a way to help him. Distance reading was no simple task, but I would get better. I had to.

I kissed him on the cheek and plopped into the limo, slinging my book bag onto the seat next to me. My guard sat in the front with the driver.

A phone rang. I answered it, knowing who it was ahead of time.

"You broke protocol." Higgins didn't sound happy.

"Yes, I had to," I replied without remorse.

"You'd better hope this doesn't get out of our control, Sam. Otherwise, your retirement plans might be affected."

The threat lingered like the monster of long ago, hiding in my closet at night, waiting for me to fall asleep. Whatever. I didn't regret my choices.

"Everything will be fine," I said. And I believed it.





Chapter 8 – Drake



When Drake regained some semblance of consciousness, intense pain stripped every nerve ending raw. His mind felt crushed into his skull, not just from the hit to the head—his powers gave him the ability to heal faster than most—but from the mind assault when someone used Drake's powers against him. How was that even possible?

He didn't open his eyes. First, he wanted to get a sense of his environment. Wheels clanked against a linoleum floor and he felt himself move forward. Voices floated around him like clouds. The world around him drifted through his awareness like bubbles—so fragile and immaterial.

He'd been drugged. He remembered the dart to his arm, but he suspected they'd given him something more since taking him.

Who did this? Where was he?

Questions swirled through his mind, and he couldn't steady his thoughts enough to make sense of anything.

He had clothes on, not just his bathing suit, so someone had dressed him. The air smelled of chemicals and sickness, like a hospital.

Darkness threatened to close in on him again. Panic filled his veins and sent a small shot of adrenaline through him.

Another mind connected with his—someone with similar powers, someone who could help. He reached out, pushing his mind with the little strength he had left.

He squinted through pain, and locked eyes with a dark-haired, pale-faced beauty who looked as if she'd been in a bar fight. One blue eye shined bright with intelligence, while the other was swollen nearly shut. Her pink lips curved into a frown, and she placed a fist on the swell of her hips, which accented her petite frame.

A protective instinct flared and Drake wanted to defend her against whoever had given her that black eye, but he couldn't be the knight when he needed saving himself.

He reached out to her mind. 'Help me.'

She held his fate in her mind. Before he collapsed back into oblivion he willed her to help, willed her to remember him and find a way to free him.

As he sank into nothing, her blue eyes, fair face and dark hair haunted him, and he was left with one thought: she's mine.





Chapter 9 – Sam



No matter how many times I'd been drugged, I still woke up in a slight panic. My body maintained no sense of how long it had been. My subconscious mind had been shut out—definitely the worst part of any assignment.

Wait....

Mary lay in the bed next to mine. That sucked worse.

She sneered at me from behind her blond hair. "Well, look who finally woke up. Took you long enough. Had some trouble, huh? Is Higgins's pet turning rebel?"

"What do you want, Mary?" Though sick of her games, ignoring her would only inspire her to greater taunts.

"Nothing. Just waiting on the good doctor, like you."

I slipped into her mind, like being stuck in the poisonous trap of a viper. 'Thinks she's so great... not that great... not even as pretty as everyone thinks... tits too small... and look at that black eye... looks like she finally screwed up... hope she gets what's coming to her... she's just a goody two-shoes... little priss.'

Well, nothing new there. Did she ever have any other kind of thought?

I raised myself on the bed. The world spun just a little through my swollen eyes. Fake flowers in artificially bright colors stood on the table by the window, a futile attempt to cheer up the dreary grey walls and fluorescently lit room.

The tiny Dr. Sato walked into the room. "Ah, Sam, Mary, you both wake. Good," she said with a soft voice.