Authors: Suzanne Brockmann
It looked more like a hospital room than a lab, with a door leading to a small bathroom off to one side, and an array of equipment on the wall around a bed. Although the bed was not your standard, narrow hospital-issue, but rather a generously proportioned and comfortable-looking queen-sized, complete with a sturdy wooden frame, thick blue comforter, and big, fluffy pillows.
A small sitting area nearby added to the obvious attempt to make the room more homey.
A curtain could be pulled around both the bed and the sitting area, in an attempt to cocoon it from the scanners and IV tubing and various wires.
Anna doubted that would help. Particularly since there was an obvious mirrored one-way observation window on the wall that couldn’t be blocked by the curtain.
“Please wait here, Miss Anna,” Ahlam told her, in her charming British-tinged accent. “Dr. Bach is on his way.”
The girl quietly closed the door behind her, leaving Anna alone in the room.
She wasn’t quite sure why she’d been brought here instead of over to Bach’s office, where he and his Fifties were holding that meeting. But on the walk from the barracks, Ahlam had not been forthcoming.
The comm-station in the room was locked, so Anna couldn’t resume her research while she waited—not that she’d had any luck so far. Or maybe she’d had too much luck. She’d already compiled a list of thirteen men, about the same age as the knife-wielding man she’d seen in her dream, who’d had disfiguring accidents sometime in the past thirty years—and a lack of funds to pay for corrective surgery. But she’d only just scratched the surface of Google hits. There were plenty more news articles to search.
Not to mention the fact that she’d focused on injuries received here in the Boston area. It was entirely possible that their man had received his scars in Miami. Or even Baghdad or Mumbai—a thought that led her to search for the records of former military personnel from the Boston area, who’d been injured in one of the past decades’ many wars. The current corporate government was particularly lax in providing veterans care. Plastic surgery wasn’t considered essential treatment.
Nor was mental health care—and it had seemed obvious that the scar-faced man had needed
that
as well.
Anna had just re-aimed her search in that direction when Ahlam had knocked on her door.
Now she sat on the edge of the bed and considered tapping on the mirrored glass and asking whoever was watching her to contact Bach and get his permission to turn on the computer.
But then she heard voices in the hall, and as she got to her feet, the door opened.
“… biggest possible problem,” the big, darkly handsome man named Stephen Diaz was saying with great intensity as he and Joseph Bach and Elliot came into the room, “is my limitation when it comes to telepathy. I’ve got a connection with Elliot, it’s true, but it’s also really new and I haven’t tried establishing a similar link with any other non-Greater-Thans.” He noticed Anna standing there. “Ms. Taylor.”
Bach was already smiling a greeting. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” he said.
She shook her head and murmured, “No,” and Bach glanced at Diaz and said, “We’ll all just do our best.” He looked back at Anna, gesturing toward the grouping of chairs, indicating that they should sit. “Please. And … may I?”
As she sat, she felt that now-familiar bump at the edge of her mind and she nodded, even as he added, “It’ll be faster and easier to explain what we intend to do, if I can just …”
And just like that, Bach’s warmth was back, and Anna understood almost instantaneously that Stephen Diaz had had experience with something called
controlled dreaming
, and that he was going to attempt to enter Anna’s mind and use those techniques to try to establish a long-distance telepathic connection with Nika.
Diaz had never done anything like this before, but Nika’s ability to project what she was seeing and feeling into Anna and Bach’s dreams was new territory, too.
And even though Anna was what Bach called a Less-Than or a ten-percenter, he believed that her bond with her sister was unusually strong. He also believed that Nika’s fledgling powers—even untrained—were massive.
So Diaz would use this controlled dreaming to implant within Anna’s mind a dream in which she’d explain all she’d learned
about Greater-Thans and the Obermeyer Institute to Nika, with the intention of this dream being ready and in place should Nika reach out to Anna again while she was sleeping.
In this dream, Anna would at least reassure Nika that help was on its way.
At best, maybe—through Anna—Diaz and Bach could help Nika learn to control and develop her powers so that she could help them locate and rescue her.
It was a long shot, but Anna was already nodding her consent.
Let’s do it. Let’s try it
.
But Bach’s explanation wasn’t over.
In order to do this, you’ll need to be asleep, because the unconscious mind is always more …
Bach paused.
Adaptable
.
And malleable?
Anna asked.
Yes
.
And wasn’t
this
going to be fun? She was going to be incredibly vulnerable during this procedure. Stephen Diaz would have complete access to her unconscious brain. Her every fantasy, her every petty thought, her every fear, hope, desire … Her worst nightmares and memories … This stranger would have access to them all.
I’ll be in the room, too
, Bach told her.
Along with Elliot
.
Anna nodded. As hard as it would be, she was going to do this. If it would help them find Nika, she’d do anything. But …
I’m not sure I’ll be able to fall asleep in front of a crowd
.
We’ll give you a drug to assist—if we get that far
.
The very first thing they had to test was whether or not Diaz had the ability to enter Anna’s mind. He could, apparently, initiate a telepathic connection with a fellow Greater-Than. And he’d recently established a mental link with Elliot, but the two men were lovers—information that surprised her. She’d honestly had no clue.
Across the room, as Elliot was activating the computer he spoke quietly to Diaz. “You know, it’s okay if you call me a fraction.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to call you that,” Diaz countered just as quietly.
“But it’s true. It’s a fact.”
“It’s derogatory. Besides, it’s actually a fact that we’re
all
fractions. No one’s a hundred percent integrated.”
“Still,” Elliot said, “I prefer it to Less-Than.”
“Yeah, but you’re not that, either,” Diaz said as he moved closer and put his hand on Elliot’s shoulder.
Anna must’ve simply missed it earlier, but now their connection seemed so obvious. Elliot glanced up and Diaz smiled down into his eyes—as if they were sharing some unspoken joke.
She turned back to Bach, who’d gently withdrawn his presence from her mind.
It was good that he had, because Anna found herself wishing that
he
was the one who’d have full access to the inside of her head. Taking a deep breath, she turned to Diaz and Elliot. “What do I need to do?”
Diaz straightened up and crossed the room toward her. “It’s more about what I need to do,” he told her. “I’m nowhere near as skilled in telepathy as Dr. Bach, so I apologize in advance for that. It’s also possible—likely—that I’ll need some kind of physical contact to bolster the telepathic connection, so …”
He held out his hand to her as he sat down beside her, even as Elliot swiveled in the comm-station seat, so he could watch.
Anna found herself glancing at Bach, who nodded his reassurance, and again she found herself wishing …
But Stephen Diaz had already closed his eyes, and he didn’t open them as she put her hand in his. His hand was large and warm and slightly damp—he was nervous.
“It’s okay,” she told him quietly, as she braced herself for … What? She wasn’t quite sure, but she suspected the nothing she was feeling wasn’t right.
Still, she waited.
And waited.
“Stephen, don’t try so hard,” Elliot said quietly from across the room. “Your integration levels are dropping. Just try to relax.”
Diaz opened his eyes then, and they were filled with both anguish and longing as he looked directly at Anna and said, “God, I
want to help find Nika, but I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m capable of doing this.”
“Let’s see if you can’t augment him,” Bach suggested—and he was talking to Elliot, who quickly pushed his chair and rolled across the room to put his hand gently on the back of Diaz’s neck.
The Greater-Than closed his eyes at Elliot’s contact and …
Anna felt it—just a whisper of movement—as if someone were mentally brushing past her, not quite touching, just stirring the air between them. Still, she said, “I can sense you, Stephen,” hoping that information would help him.
“Keep breathing,” Elliot murmured, moving in closer to wrap both of his arms around Diaz in an embrace, his head tipped against the bigger man’s. “You can do this—I know you can.”
And there it was again, that ghost of a whisper of a sensation. But even if Elliot was somehow augmenting Diaz’s power, it apparently wasn’t enough.
Anna turned to Bach. “Can you help? Is there any way you could combine your power with Stephen’s?”
“It’s never been done.”
“But we’re experimenting,” she reminded him. “So let’s experiment.”
Bach looked at Elliot—Diaz’s eyes were still tightly closed.
“We’ve tried—and succeeded—with the equivalent of a mental conference call with a group of Greater-Thans,” Elliot pointed out. “The biggest problem I could imagine comes from Anna’s inability to shield her thoughts. Her privacy will be compromised with both of you inside of her head. But as long as she’s willing—”
“I am,” she said, even as she inwardly cringed.
Stephen’s eyes were still closed. “Stephen, are you all right with this?” Bach asked, reaching out to touch the bigger man on his arm.
It was then that it happened. Just, boom.
Bach was inside of her head—no asking permission, no nudge, no greeting, no etiquette. It was as if he were just suddenly there—mentally knocking her over and lying on top of her, completely covering her with his telepathic presence.
He was astonished, too.
What the hell …?
Just as quickly as he’d appeared, he was gone, and Anna realized that she’d been thrown back in her seat, and the movement had made her lose her grip on Stephen’s hand.
Stephen opened his eyes at the break in their contact, but it was clear that neither he nor Elliot had a clue as to what had just happened.
Bach, though, was a different story. “What the … heck was that?” he asked. He’d used a different word inside of her head, and he knew it, too, because he actually looked abashed and added, “I beg your pardon.” Or maybe he was apologizing for the unrestrained burst of emotion she’d felt from him—which was a first, even with all the times he’d traipsed through her head.
Joseph Bach was on fire from his absolute commitment to finding Nika. Anna knew that now, without a doubt.
He liked her, too—Anna knew that as well. He thought she was courageous and smart and extremely beautiful, and that made her feel embarrassingly pleased—especially considering how insignificant that was compared to her need to rescue her sister.
“What was what?” Stephen asked, looking from Anna to Bach and back again. “What happened?”
“Elliot, step back,” Bach ordered, and Elliot let go of Stephen and rolled his chair away just a bit. “Let’s try that again.”
Anna knew what Bach wanted and she held out her hand to Stephen, who took it, even as he looked quizzically at Bach. Who met Anna’s eyes and nodded before reaching out again, and putting his hand solidly down on Stephen’s shoulder.
And just as quickly—although far less awkwardly this time around—Bach was again inside of her head. Now, however, because he’d been ready for it, everything he was thinking and feeling was back to being cool and restrained and completely under control.
Stephen?
she felt Bach ask.
I don’t think he’s with us
. Anna closed her eyes, but …
No
. She couldn’t feel the other Greater-Than at all.
In fact, “What’s going on?” Stephen asked.
“Apparently, you’re a conduit,” Bach told him. “I’ve achieved a telepathic connection with Anna, merely through physical contact with you.”
“Really?” Stephen asked. He looked from Bach to Anna and back. “Is it related to my ability to deliver an electrical current, do you think? I mean, could it be physiological? Do you have an automatic telepathic connection with Anna when you touch her?”
“No,” Bach answered. “I’ve never experienced telepathy triggered by physical contact. Not with anyone.”
Actually
, Anna told him,
there is something that happens when we touch. I can feel you. It’s not the same as when you’re inside of my head like this, but …
“Wow,” Elliot said, unaware that he was speaking over Anna’s thoughts to Bach. “So this thing with Stephen is new.”
“But totally useless,” Stephen pointed out, his frustration obvious. “Dr. Bach doesn’t need me to establish a connection with anyone.”
“Maybe we’ll find that you’re a conduit for other powers as well,” Elliot suggested. “Until we run some tests—”
“It still seems pretty useless.”
Bach tested the conduit theory, taking his hand away from Stephen, and sure enough, he was instantly gone from Anna’s mind. Holding her gaze, he reached out and put his hand on her knee. And there it was—that tingling sensation she’d felt before—that sense of feeling his presence, his power, his passion. But it
was
vastly different from a telepathic link. And, really, maybe part of it was the simple unsteadiness that came from gazing back into this man’s ridiculously pretty eyes.
“I feel waves of your concern for your sister,” Bach murmured, “but I feel that from you regardless of physical contact.”
He moved his hand back to Stephen’s shoulder and …
“Whoa,” Anna said, because—again—the sudden rush of Bach being inside of her head was nothing like his usual, gentle, almost-gradual entrance.