The Forbidden Trilogy (65 page)

"Sam, slow down. We don't know what's down there."

But I knew. Her mind, slow and sluggish, called to me.

'Sam, they took him. You have to save my baby. Please.'

"Darren, help me. She's in the car!"

The car had toppled down a steep embankment and landed on
its side. Darren used his telekinesis to pull off the driver's door and lift
Mrs. Beaumont out.

I cried, feeling helpless and scared. "Where's Tommy?
Darren, find Tommy!"

"Sam, she's the only one in there. I'm sorry." He
laid her on the pavement next to us and called 9-1-1.

I sat by her, holding her hand, while her chest heaved in
unnatural rhythms and blood gurgled from her mouth. Something had partially
smashed her face in. "Just hold on. Please, hold on. Help will be here
soon."

A tear, laced with blood, trickled from the corner of her
eye. She couldn't speak, but she could think. '
Men in black ran us off the
road. Took Tommy. Save him. He needs you, Sam. Please.'

"I will. I swear it. I'll find him." The grit of
the road bit into my knees as her blood soaked my hands.
More blood. I'll
never be free of the stains.

In her final moments, her mind burst open, showing me
everything about her life—Tommy, and her ex-husband, the pedophile I'd exposed
on my last assignment. She'd already seen the monster in him, and had been
ready to act when I came. She knew about my para-powers long before I went
public, and had contributed the large donations that had helped me and my
friends reestablish ourselves once we'd all escaped Rent-A-Kid. I owed her so
much.

With her dying breath, she passed the care of her son into
my hands.

My bloodstained, shaking hands.

Toby runs, disappearing into the trees.

The house crackles with flames, and the heat of the fire
burns Drake's skin and eyes. He runs after Toby, but no matter how hard he
pushes himself, Toby is always just out of reach, taunting him. Drake pushes
forward.

He has to stop what's about to happen, but the forest erupts
into flames and a tree falls, pinning him to the ground. His ribs crack and
pierce his lungs. Pain drives him mad, but still he reaches for Toby.
"Don't go. You're not safe."

A man in black seizes the boy and takes him away.

Toby screams as Drake pulls on a power he doesn't have
anymore. He can't move the tree. Can't heal himself. Can't breathe. He will die,
and so will Toby.

***

Drake jerked awake, unsure of where he was, or why. The jail
smelled of vomit and body odor, and his cot had seen better days. He hadn't
been forced to share a cell with anyone... yet—a small but cherished blessing,
given the look of the other detainees.

A guard with a shabby goatee and too much gut shoved a
cafeteria tray into his cell. "Breakfast."

The food, if it could be called that, smelled like day-old
garbage, but Drake shoved it into his mouth without thinking. He needed his strength—what
little he had—and couldn't waste any chance for nourishment. His sorrows had
made him mopey and lethargic. Now, people needed him, and he had to get his
shit together.

The guard flicked on a television that faced the cells and
left.

Drake would have preferred silence. A
Law & Order
rerun played in the background as he thought about his options, which pretty
much amounted to nothing. He had no money, no lawyer, no chance in hell of
getting out of this mess.

He snapped back to attention when
Law & Order
disappeared, and a newscaster in a smart blue suit appeared with the words
"Breaking News" on the television.

She held a microphone to her face and gestured to the scene
behind her—a fenced-off area heavily guarded by military personnel. "The
CDC has set up a quarantine zone in the middle of the city to investigate a
rash of disturbing behavior in youth everywhere. They have refused all requests
for comments, and in a formal statement, denied any connection between the
outbreak and a new street drug known as "Blue Power," which has many
worried about distressing side effects, including death and unusual abilities.
Though the CDC denies the connection, our sources confirmed that any known user
of the drug is being held in quarantine. Could this be the start of chemical
warfare? Many people are asking that very question."

Toby. That has to be where they're keeping him.
Drake
recognized the area, but had no idea how to break in and save the boy with so
many armed guards, not to mention the fact that the Center for Disease Control
had jumped into the fray. In fact, he needed rescuing himself.

Drake's shoulders slumped and his head fell into his hands.
He'd officially hit rock bottom, and saw no hope of climbing out of the hole
he'd thrown himself into. In that moment, he would have given anything to go
back in time and change his path. He'd have stayed with Sam, powers or no. He'd
have been there for her and their baby. He wouldn't have been such a coward and
made her face all of it alone.

He wouldn't have run away.

Mr. Goatee came back and pulled out his keys. "You have
a visitor."

Sam?
No, couldn't be. How would she even know he was
here? But then, how would
anyone
know he was here? Maybe Sam had found
him somehow, after their connection. Maybe she could save him from himself once
and for all, and he could be the man she needed.

Drake followed the guard to a small interrogation room.
Reluctant hope surged when the door opened, then burst when the tall man
sitting at the table stood and smiled. "Mr. Davis, it's a pleasure to
finally meet you in person."

The man nodded, and Mr. Goatee left, which was highly
unusual given Drake's status as a supposed psycho killer.

Dressed in a high-priced pinstripe suit, with dark hair and
striking blue eyes, the man had an air about him, as if expecting obedience in
all things. He gestured with a manicured hand. "Please, sit. We have much
to discuss."

Drake couldn't imagine what the man wanted, but he sat,
curiosity overcoming his disappointment at not seeing Sam. "Are you my
lawyer?"

"Not your lawyer, per se, but I am here to help. I
think we can do much for each other, if you're willing to engage in a symbiotic
relationship, so to speak."

What the hell is this guy talking about?
Something
about the way the man moved—the graceful and fluid motion, the air of
authority—tickled the back of Drake's mind. Also, the eyes....
Where have I
seen those before?
"Who are you?"

The man smiled coldly, devoid of all emotion. "The
question isn't who am I, but who are you? Do you know how you came to be what
you are?"

A veiled threat tinted the man's words, but it didn't scare
Drake. It only made him more cautious. "I don't know what you're talking
about."

"Oh, let's not play coy with each other. We have a
history, even if we've never met in person. Do you not recognize me?" He
closed his eyes and stayed so still he might have fallen asleep.

A low buzz filled Drake's mind, as though someone had broken
in and started digging through his memories. The Seeker. Drake and the Seeker
were brothers, spawned from the same mother. And Sam and the Seeker had shared
a father....

Drake lurched to his feet, knocking his chair back.
"Get out. Get out, now!" He lunged, intent on beating the man to
death on the spot, consequences be damned, but an invisible force pushed him
back.

"Come now, Drake. Did you really think I'd show up
without some kind of protection? Now that you know who I am, shall we get down
to business?"

Drake ground his teeth and shot daggers at the man across
from him. "I will never make a deal with the devil who destroyed Sam's
life."

Mr. Steele smiled his creepy smile again. "You might
change your mind when you hear what I have to say." He pulled a vial of
Blue Power from his jacket pocket and set it on the table between them, then
sat back without saying anything.

Drake seethed with anger.
Who is this asshole to come in
here and treat me like some crackhead desperate for the next hit?

It won't work.

"I have more. More than you can even imagine. This is
the street variety. It's meant to separate the wheat from the chaff, as the
Bible would say. But this...." He pulled out a vial of purple liquid.
"This is the real deal. It lasts longer and is more powerful. You won't
get the high you got with the blue version. You'll just get all of your powers
back in full force. Isn't that what you want? To be powerful again? Think of
what you could do with strength and mind control. Think of all that you could
accomplish. No one could stop you."

"I'm not interested." A lie. He was interested.
The drug pulled at him. He'd be whole and could finally protect Sam, but at
what cost? "What do you want from me?"

He'd tried to make his voice sound aggressive and uncaring,
but the shift in Steele's expression told Drake he'd failed. Steele knew he had
set the hook.

"I need your help. We have a situation that requires
your unique skills."

Drake crossed his arms over his chest and glared. "To
do what?"

"Why, to help me recruit and collect other paranormals,
of course. Someone with your abilities would have no trouble getting the job
done."

Drake couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Does this
jackass really think that after everything he's done, I'll help him kidnap
kids?
"You're insane if you think I'd ever do that."

Steele shifted gears. "Do you know how you lost your powers?"

He nodded, but didn't speak.

"You
think
you do, but really, your unborn child
absorbed them. They are trapped in her. I can help you get them back for
good."

Go anywhere near my daughter, and I'll kill you.
"Not interested."

"I can get you out of here, Drake. How else would you
save your little friend? You have nothing, and you know it. I can give you
power, money and freedom. I can even give you Toby. All you have to do is help
me."

Shit.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't choose between
one child's life and hundreds.

Drake shook his head. "Still not interested." He
expected to see Steele show some signs of frustration at not being able to gain
the upper hand, but the man remained cool and calm—almost gloating.

"Very well. If I can't entice you, perhaps I can coerce
you. There's one more thing you don't know, and I think it will be the tipping
point for you."

Steele pulled out his phone, punched some buttons on a
screen, and held out a picture.

Drake's heart stopped. He screamed in anger and thrashed at
the shields holding him away from Steele.

The man just sat there, victory in his eyes. "When
you've finished, we'll talk about what you can do for me."

Sirens blared. Darren held me as my shoulders shook and tears
streamed down my face. I couldn't pull my hands off of Mrs. Beaumont's body,
but I had to find out what happened to Tommy. She'd shown me the faces of the
men who'd taken him. I planned to draw them and make everyone memorize the
pictures—and then we would hunt them down, kill them, and get Tommy back.

The paramedics and police arrived, and Darren fielded their
questions, but they still insisted on speaking to me. One man draped a blanket
over my shoulders and pried me away from Mrs. Beaumont. "Come on, we need
to put her on a stretcher."

Darren took over, leading me to the tail of an ambulance
while a cop prepared to take my statement. I told him a creative version of the
truth: they were friends, coming to visit. When they didn't arrive in time, I
got worried and came looking for them. We arrived and found her here, dying.

"Did she say anything about who did this, or where her
son is?"

What could I say? The medical report would show she couldn't
speak at the time of her death. "No, she didn't speak at all."

"Do you know anyone who wished her or her son harm?"

Other than a psychotic paranormal human trafficking ring
led by my sadistic father?
"No. Her husband was arrested not too long
ago for pedophilia. I doubt he's involved, but that's the only scandal I know
about in their family."

The officer nodded and took notes. "Thank you,
Sam." He handed me his card. "If you can think of anything else,
please call."

"Who will be handling her... remains?"

"We'll attempt to contact next of kin or her attorney.
I'll be in touch as we have more information."

He turned away, dismissing me, but I didn't know what to do.
Should we just leave?

Darren thought so. He ushered me to the car and buckled me
up, and we headed for home.

An emptiness filled me, making me numb to the small nagging
at the back of my mind. I couldn't think past getting home, cleaning this blood
off me, and finding Tommy. I pressed myself into the vastness beyond my own
body and reached for him, but his mental signature only flickered, then blinked
out. I couldn't hold onto it long enough to track it.

Again that emptiness goaded me. What had I missed?

We arrived home, parked and walked into the mansion. A
lifetime had passed since we'd left, and still the house slept. Susie sat in
the kitchen, waiting for us. She saw my face, saw the blood, and tears flowed
down her cheeks.

She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. "Did
she wake up?" I needed to hold my child.

"Not a sound." She handed the baby monitor to me
and squeezed my hand, honoring my unspoken request for silence.

I nodded and walked down the hall toward my room.
What
must it do to a mother, to watch her only child be kidnapped while she lies
helpless, dying?
The thought chilled me, and in one horrible moment I
realized what I'd been missing. Ana. The soft but familiar buzz of her mind in
mine, the constant presence that alerted me to her moods and needs—it was gone.