The Forbidden Trilogy (6 page)

He hadn't just nudged her this time, he'd put the full force
of his power behind the compulsion.

She nodded, a vacant expression on her face, and walked away
without another word.

A small twinge of guilt plagued him, but he ignored it
easily enough. She'd be fine, and would soon enough latch on to another hot guy
like the barnacle she was.

Brad arrived with two bottles of water. "What's up with
Kylie?"

"Nothing. She won't be coming around anymore."

Brad shrugged but didn't say anything, and Drake appreciated
the silence. He needed to get into the zone and prepare for the competition.

He'd never suffered from excessive paranoia, but as he drank
his water, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed... and not
by a sponsor.

***

Max McKerry, the celeb surfer, broke the silence when he
knocked into Drake's board. "You think you're going to beat me with that
piece of shit? Dream on, loser."

Brad rolled his eyes at Drake but directed his comment to
Max. "Get a life, man. Do you really think anyone here is scared of
you?"

The cocky smile plastered on Max's face didn't fade in the
least. "It doesn't matter. Your friend's going to lose either way. No way
a homeless orphan is going to win this competition."

Words had no power over Drake. The insults slid off his back
like water off a duck. One thought and Max's ass would be groveling on the hot
sand begging to kiss Drake's toes, but that's not how he wanted to win, so he
ignored the jerk and stayed in his zone.

He didn't get off on the competition against others; the
real journey existed only between him and the ocean. Her power claimed him, and
nothing else mattered. The glory, the sponsors, the trophies—they were only a
means to an end, a way to live well, to have financial security while doing
what he loved.

Max may have had a better surfboard and more fans, but he
didn't know this water like Drake.

Brad grumbled and set up his chair in the sand. "I
don't know why you don't put that guy in his place. He's a jackass."

"No point. He'll find his place when we're in the
water. I'm not worried about it."

Drake's confidence was not misplaced or unfounded. As the
day progressed, each set brought him closer to victory as other surfers were
weeded out.

Finally, three surfers remained: he, Max, and a girl named
Chrysta who had surprised them all with her entry and success. The surf crashed
to the beach and pulled Drake into the open arms of the Pacific. He let
everything go and emptied his mind of all worries, angers and fears. Floating
and bobbing in the swells of water set his mind at ease. Thoughts floated in
and out like the currents, but he paid them no mind; he only waited for the
right wave.

Then it came, and all his focus went into paddling. Every
muscle, every ounce of energy, pushed him toward the pulsing water. In that
last moment, he stood and glided on top of the wave, slicing through the surf.

Eckharte Tolle wrote in
The Power of Now
, "If
the primary focus of your life is the now, then you will be free from pain and
suffering." Drake understood those words only when surfing. In that
moment, nothing else mattered, and no other thoughts or feelings had any chance
to hatch and take hold. In that moment, only the wave mattered.

In a perfect moment of synchronicity and connection, the
wave broke and wrapped him in a watery cocoon from which he would emerge
reborn. In that state of bliss, he barely noticed Max cutting him off, barely
felt the pull of the current until his board threatened to spill him into the
depths of the ocean.

With paranormal strength, he steadied himself and kept his
feet under him. A look of surprise flashed across Max's face before he directed
his attention to the wave that also threatened to engulf him.

The men rode their boards to shore and were greeted by
hundreds of voices cheering their success.

To anyone watching, they had both just scored a serious
victory. Even the judges wouldn't be able to tell that Max had cheated and
tried to sabotage Drake.

Words mattered little to him, but Max had just declared war.

Drake shoved Max to the sand using a touch more than normal
strength, just enough to sting. "What the hell, man? Are you so desperate
to win, and so afraid of me, that you would cheat?"

Max's eyes turned cold, but he pushed himself up and stared
at Drake. "I don't know what you're talking about, but do that again and
I'll make sure you're disqualified from the final round."

A group had formed, drawn into the drama. Drake passed his
board to Brad and stormed off toward the showers to cool down before he blew it
for good.

***

The warm sand squished under his feet, and the hot sun
blazed down on his head.

He stripped off his wetsuit and stood under the showers,
letting the warm water wash away the sand, salt and anger. Today could change
his life forever; he just needed to keep his cool and ignore Max.

He'd been so absorbed in his rage that he hadn't noticed the
buzz of warning under his skin that someone was watching him.

By the time he felt it, it was too late.

Something stung his shoulder.

He reached around and pulled out a dart. His thoughts
swirled around in his head, and his recent clarity gave way to a jumble of
incoherent ramblings.

"Dude, are you all right?"

A voice spoke to him, but male or female, he couldn't tell.
His vision blurred and he slumped onto the wet cement, the now cold water
spraying over him until it ran out of time and stopped.

"Drake, you'll be okay. Come on, boy." Another
voice he didn't recognize.

He reached out with his mind to stop whoever was touching
him, but nothing happened. His power didn't work. Then he felt it, the
compulsion to obey, directed at him as someone siphoned his powers from him.

When hands pulled him away from the familiar noises, he
tried to fight with his muscle.

"Damn it, he's still too strong. Get him to the van,
quick."

"Don't worry," one voice said to the other.
"Drake, you will relax and walk quietly to the van with us. You will not
put up a fight or make any noise."

Drake nodded, stood and walked forward.

Before he could process anything more, a painful whack to
his head sent him tumbling toward darkness.

The leader yelled at whoever had hit him, and then Drake
found that darkness.

The next morning, I still had nothing on Beaumont, but my
bond with Tommy had deepened, not in small part to the twenty new drawings I'd
given him of the most fantastical creatures he could think of.

The kid had quite an imagination.

He followed me everywhere, and I didn't mind. Between him
and my Gar shadow, I had a freaking entourage. A longing for a real family with
a little brother just like Tommy threatened to undo me, but I smacked it down
and stayed focused on my work. Mostly.

It would have helped if Mr. Beaumont had actually been home
more. My mind reading skills weren't all-powerful. I required some proximity to
my target if I wanted to connect with him, especially someone with an
unfamiliar mental signature. It was like a voice in the crowd—the more familiar
the voice, the easier it was to pinpoint and lock onto it.

That morning I finally had my chance to corner Dollinger
without Tommy tagging along. The pressure to finish up this assignment so I
could leave the next day weighed heavy in my mind, and pushed me into
confrontations I would normally have avoided.

I found my client pouring himself a stiff drink in the
study, and got straight to the point. "I can't do what you hired me for
without access to the target. When will Mr. Beaumont be home?"

His eyes hardened into black coal, but he kept his tone
civil. "He's going to surprise everyone with a trip to the fair today.
You'll have an all-day pass to his mind. Use it well."

'For what I'm paying her, she'd better find the mother
lode of dirt on this bastard.... I'm sick of being his lackey.'

I shook his thoughts out of my head and left the room.

Tommy squealed and threw himself into my arms. "Sam,
Daddy's home. And guess what? He's taking us all to the fair! Isn't that
great?"

'This is going to be the best day ever.... Maybe Sam can
live with us forever and be my big sister.... I can't wait to eat cotton
candy.... Daddy's the best.'

My heart cracked. I gave serious thought to dropping this
whole thing and telling Higgins I couldn't get anything from the target. Then,
I wouldn't have to destroy Tommy's life, and the guilt that ate me alive would
go away.

But I would have to stay at least two weeks before pulling
an assignment. Rules. If I did that, I'd miss my interview and my contest, and
when they released me from Rent-A-Kid in three months I'd have nothing.

How could I seriously consider destroying Tommy's life so I
could get into a decent college? His brown eyes and innocent thoughts crashed
into me. With a sinking in my gut, I knew what I had to do—blow the assignment,
regardless of the cost to me.

I mentally waved farewell to all of my dreams as I took
Tommy's hand and helped him get ready for the fair.

***

Utah millionaires weren't uncommon, it appeared, but it
didn't change the charm of small town fairs. In a large field, a spectacle of
lights and sounds had been erected to entertain the populace. Colorful booths
attracted kids of all ages to win cheap toys and stuffed animals by throwing
balls in cups or shooting down fake bunny targets. A large carrousel stood in
the center of the fair, an iconic symbol of the American heartland.

Tommy only cared about one thing: cotton candy. He darted
through throngs of people to snag his place in a long line of sugar-craving
children.

Mrs. Beaumont hadn't joined us, as she was attending some
event or another for her social club. Mr. Dollinger had begged out by claiming
work duties, then eyed me with a look that meant I'd better come home with
something good to tell him.

I had no intention of doing any such thing, but his absence
did make for an awkward dynamic with the three of us, plus my Gar shadow, who
just stood and watched and never said a word. While Tommy's dad presented a
respectable and attractive front, something about him made my skin crawl. Yet
he'd been incredibly generous, hospitable and kind since my arrival—at least
when he was actually present.

Though I had decided not to pursue the assignment, I
couldn't help dipping into his thoughts from time to time. Money and work
consumed his mental focus. He didn't give much airtime to family or anything
else, really, which sucked for Tommy but wasn't a crime. It did strike me as
odd that he'd taken us all to the fair today, though. He wasn't the kind of man
who enjoyed spending the day with his son, while they ate sugary treats
together.

We inched up in line, and Mr. Beaumont pulled out $200 and
handed it to me. "Sam, would you mind taking care of Tommy for a bit? I
need to find a bathroom and make a call. Just get him whatever he wants and
take him on some rides."

Tommy's face fell when he realized his dad planned to ditch
us.

I covered my anger with a smile and took the money.
"Sure. Will you be joining us later?"

His eyes glazed over and he didn't make eye contact,
distracted by something else. "I'll catch up with you two in a bit."

And in that moment, I became the world's most expensive
babysitter... on his partner's dime. Rent-A-Kid charged at least $150,000 a day
for my time. That worked out to $6,250 per hour if you count sleep. I didn't
see all that money, obviously, but still... I had to laugh at the absurdity of
it. I would've felt worse for Mr. Dollinger if he weren't such a jerk. The only
person I cared about in all of this was Tommy, and so I would do my best to
protect him.

To that end, I slipped into his father's mind as I paid for
Tommy's pink- and blue-swirled sugar high.

'Too bad Tommy's a boy... girl would have been better...
easier to... ah yes... nice fresh meat... mustn't touch... just look... until
later... later I can touch that innocent flesh... when no one is around...
tomorrow night... they promised me a young one, I can't wait to—'

Enough!
My stomach clenched and bile rose in my
throat. The air around me thickened until it became hard to breathe. My world
narrowed to a pinpoint, as though I would pass out at any moment. I couldn't
just hear his thoughts; I could see the images playing around in his mind. In
that moment I wanted to gouge out my third eye.

Large hands held me upright and tiny hands tugged at my
sweater. "Sam! Sam! Are you okay? What's wrong, Sam?"

My vision focused on Tommy's big eyes widened in fear. Gar
stood behind me to keep me from falling.

I composed myself and found the ground under my feet.
"I'm okay. I just got dizzy for a second. Probably just need to eat
something."

Tommy nodded as if all of life's problems could be solved
with food. He pulled me toward the food court. "Come on, we'll get you a
hotdog. They are the best ever!"

Gar stood just inches from me with a look that I could have
mistaken as concern, if I thought he cared at all. "Are you okay? Did you
get something on the father?"

I didn't try to hide my surprise. He hadn't expressed any
interest in my assignment until that moment, but it helped to have him on my
side.

I nodded. "It's bad. Can I use your phone?"

He narrowed his eyes but pulled it out of his jacket pocket.
"Who are you calling?"

"Dollinger."

I dialed the number from memory and tapped my foot as it
rang. "Keep an eye on Tommy, okay?"

Gar's face squished together as though I'd asked him to
change a dirty diaper, but he moved his eyes to Tommy, who was busy eating his
treat—at least that part of it not smeared across his face.