[Ganzfield 2] Adversary (30 page)

“Did you speak these words aloud?”

“I did, Jane. If any listener had heard me, he would have thought me mad: I pronounced them with such frantic energy.”

“And it was last Monday night, somewhere near midnight?”

“Yes; but the time is of no consequence: what followed is the strange point. You will think me superstitious,—some superstition I have in my blood, and always had: nevertheless, this is true—true at least it is that I heard what I now relate.

“As I exclaimed ‘Jane! Jane! Jane!’ a voice—I cannot tell whence the voice came, but I know whose voice it was—replied, ‘I am coming: wait for me;’ and a moment after, went whispering on the wind the words—’Where are you?’”

When I’d first read this book, I’d loved the supernatural component of their relationship—how Mr. Rochester had called for Jane and she’d felt his mental touch and had come back to him.

Maybe Charlotte Brontë had been an unenhanced G-positive.

*   *   *

Trevor slept for just over three hours before he started to dream. When I felt his mind stir into REM sleep, I called his name aloud. At least, I tried to.

“Luff!”

I rolled my eyes at my stupidity. How could I forget that I had this problem? Was I brain damaged, or what? It’d just started a few hours ago! I stroked Trevor’s hair, pulling him reluctantly from sleep, leaning down to kiss him when I felt his conscious mind stir. His eyes opened, meeting mine.

I didn’t do anything to hurt you, did I?

I shook my head.
Nope.

Thanks. I really do like sleeping inside in a real bed!
He stretched out with a smile. That haunted, grey look was gone and his contentment filled my soul with a spring-green wash of joy.

If you didn’t need to dream, I’d watch over you like this every night. I think you’ll have to settle for a daily nap.
I’d enjoyed the quiet closeness of him. I’d never been able to read with Trevor so near. Usually his thoughts and the written words bumped up against each other in my head.

What happens if I don’t dream?

After a while? Memory loss. Mental confusion. Eventually, you’d go into a dream state even when you’re awake, like a hallucination.
Thank you, neurology textbook.

He appeared to consider it.
But on the upside, I get to sleep with you?

I laughed, rolling until I was lying across his chest.
So, what do you want to do for the rest of the afternoon?
His first thought involved us doing pretty much what we were already doing, but without clothes. Little tingles of red energy began to dance along my skin and I laughed again.

Your laugh still sounds the same,
he thought to me, happily. I was glad he wasn’t pretending that nothing was wrong. Or, at least, that he didn’t notice anything wrong. He heard that, of course—our mental connection was as strong as ever.
I told you we’d deal with it together
.

There IS something you can help me with this afternoon. It’s been a while since I had a shower—

Red electricity seemed to crackle over him and hunger for me filled his thoughts. Part of him was fully ready to go further; the rest of him was holding that part back with a heavy leash of obligation, promise, regret, and concern that he wouldn’t be doing what was best for me. I loved both parts of him.

I rolled off of Trevor and put my feet on the floor. Again, his invisible hands prevented me from standing. His thoughts were turbulent and erotic.
Where do you think you’re going?
He wasn’t sure if he was preventing me from falling or about to pull me back to him and put all of those electric-red thoughts into action.

I told you. Shower.
I smiled with false innocence.
Unless you want to give me a sponge bath…

Trevor groaned, lifting me as he stood. His self-control stretched to the breaking point. I laughed again, feeling the delightful, giddy, red energy flush across my skin.
Don’t worry—we’d be soulmating before you got to second base.

His eyes met mine and the connection flared between us.
Tease.
Then his mind took a playful turn and he smiled widely. “So, you want a shower, do you?”

You WOULDN’T!
I gasped as invisible hands swooped me up. We both laughed as he carried me into the bathroom. He stood me in the shower stall—still in my nightshirt—pulled the shower curtain closed, and turned on the
cold
water.

I shrieked as the icy spray assaulted my head and shoulders. It was too cold to breathe! Downstairs in the kitchen, Hannah reacted with alarm to my scream.
We’re okay,
I told her as she started up the stairs.

Do I want to know?
she thought to herself.

No, you really don’t.

I fumbled for the hot water knob. It took forever for the water temperature to get above “arctic.” Trevor’s invisible hands held my waist, keeping my weight off my leg, but also keeping me centered in the freezing spray. The water seemed to move around them, leaving the suggested outline of hands and arms in the cascading droplets. I remembered that he didn’t feel hot or cold with them. My eyes narrowed as I sent a full sense of the cold water on my skin through our mental connection.

He gasped as though I’d thrown ice water in his face. In a sense, I had.

The water warmed and I found I could breathe again. I was still laughing.
You’re lucky I’m not furious
.

Serves you right, you tease
.

It’s only teasing if you don’t intend to follow through
.
Otherwise, I think it’s called foreplay.

The invisible hands on my waist seemed to tremble slightly. I struggled to pull my soggy nightshirt over my head. The water made it ridiculously heavy. I hung it from the soap dish. The warm spray felt wonderful on my skin. I closed my eyes with a sigh and let it run over me.
Ahh—clean.
I washed and conditioned my hair then took the soap and started lathering my body.

From behind the shower curtain, Trevor groaned.
Oh.
I couldn’t contain my smile. I normally popped up a mental shield when I showered at Ganzfield, since I never knew if one of the other minders would be in range. Oops—I guess I “forgot” this time. I started moving the soap more slowly, sensuously rubbing it against my skin, moving toward more strategic places—

One invisible hand briefly left my waist and turned off the hot water. The sudden cold spray hit like a wall, making me shriek again and dive for the knobs. After rinsing, I turned off the water. A solid hand stuck itself around the shower curtain, unceremoniously holding out a towel. I took it, dried myself off, and then wrapped it around my body and pulled the curtain open.

Trevor stood just outside, his eyes shut tight and breathing heavily, desperately trying to think about Fireball.

You can open your eyes. I’m decent.

Hardly.
One eye opened narrowly, making sure I was covered. I tried to lean in closer, intent on kissing him, but his invisible hold kept me out of reach.
Clothes.

I noticed that Hannah’s mind was no longer within my range. Was she taking an afternoon nap or had we driven her from the house?

Back in my room, I grabbed some clothes from my dresser and closet—jeans and a brown jersey.
Unsexy enough?
I asked, holding them up for his approval.

He looked at me intensely and gave a little head-shake.
You could be wearing a sweatshirt or a granny gown or a trash bag and you’d still look sexy
.

My heart did a little flip.

Trevor shut his eyes. Red energy pulsed off his skin as he caught mental glimpses of what I saw in the mirror as I dressed. I slid my arms around his waist, feeling his tension—the strain of holding himself back.

Don’t hold back with me.
I leaned up to kiss him.

Trevor seemed to ignite. His kiss lifted me off my feet, pulling me to the bed. His arms drew me close to him and we met as pure energy in a thermonuclear blast of soulmating, leaving dark afterimages in its wake.

Our hearts beat together in the same, wild rhythm. Our breath mingled between us as we lay with our heads on the single pillow. We looked into each other’s eyes, but saw so much beyond them.

For one thing, I seemed to be glowing—literally. A golden light surrounded me. Was I glowing with Trevor’s love?
Aww.
It took us a few seconds to realize why it looked familiar.
Sean looked like this when Rachel used to view him remotely.
We shared a deep aching for Rachel—for her loss. The next thought hit us simultaneously.

Is an RV…?

I think an RV’s trying to find me and they’re close enough for me to sense the trace in their thoughts.

Cold horror washed through me and my heart seemed to stop.
Oh, my God—

Isaiah!

He came straight toward the house, a burning seed of hate moving through the cold rain. His fierce anger had a single focus:
extermination.
He wanted to kill us for destroying his voice, his plans, and his cover as Jonas Pike.

Before we could do more than sit up, he sent a lethal blast at Trevor’s mind. 

CHAPTER 13

In my first week at Ganzfield, Dr. Williamson had tried to read something too personal from my thoughts and I’d automatically shielded. When Isaiah launched his attack against Trevor’s mind, I threw a wall up against it—and this one wasn’t the subtle spiderweb. It was solid steel—the hull of a battleship—surrounding both our minds and shared consciousness. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, focusing. Trevor’s
life
depended on it. I tasted blood; I must’ve bitten my lip. My hands balled into fists as my whole body trembled. Oily-black killing energy battered against us, but the shield held—strong and powerful.

Trevor and I communicated faster than thought. We knew what the other was thinking because there was no other. In the wake of soulmating, we were a singularity.

Isaiah’s out of our range. We can’t fight back from here.

Trevor pulled me up in his arms.

The mental attack faltered and died. Isaiah flicked a golden RV thread against us again—a mental periscope.
Why isn’t the boy dead?
Anger and frustration flared cold and grey against us.
That should’ve killed him.
We felt him pull the gun from his jacket pocket.
There’s always the old-fashioned way.

Isaiah’s fingers shook as he clicked off the safety. The gun felt heavy in his hands.
The telepath girl’s got to die. Now! And without the healers, I can’t adapt the telekinetic’s ability. There’s no reason to keep him alive.
Still-painful, puckered slashes pulled rawly at his scalp and arms as he moved.
Payback for throwing me through the window. God, they almost killed me. No, I can’t let either of them live. They might try it again.

“Maddie!” Trevor wrapped his invisible arms around us as bullets came through the front windows. Shattering glass and splintering wood bounced off the arms of golden light that spread wide around us.

I tucked my head down against his chest.
Focus! Keep the shield up!
Bullets hung inches from us, imbedded in midair. I winced as something slashed into the skin near my ankle, below the invisible shield. Trevor and I felt the pain together.

Trevor’s golden energy mixed with the silver of my mental shield, blending together.
Electrum.
We were safe with each other, protecting each other. Isaiah couldn’t harm either our minds or our bodies because we shared our souls.

The rain of bullets stopped. I opened one eye and felt for Isaiah’s mind. Did he need to reload? Was he going to try something else?

No. Something was wrong with the gun. Isaiah clicked the trigger with impotent rage.

What the hell?
We all felt the minds of several other people closing in, focused on Isaiah. In the distance, a siren began to wail. Trevor pulled me close and started to dash downstairs.

Oh, God!
Pain slammed into us, a purple-black cloud that obscured our vision and knocked the air from our lungs. Burns bubbled on the skin of Isaiah’s chest. Even secondhand, it felt like a liquid scream.