Born to Darkness (46 page)

He nodded. Without the use of the sleep aid, there was no need for medical monitoring. What he’d be doing was not all that different from what he’d done to Anna to get her to climb into his car. Still … “It’s for your safety,” he told her. “The lab techs who watch. They make sure you’re not exploited or taken advantage of.”

“You would never take advantage of me. You want Nika to attend your school. You’re not going to jeopardize that.” Anna lay down on the sofa, her hair fanned out across one of the throw pillows as she looked up at him expectantly. “And yes, that was me being a jerk. I think it’s kind of obvious that I trust you by now, Joseph. So let’s find her.”

Bach smiled and reached out with his mind—and this time she was ready and waiting for him.

Thank you
, he told her.
I’m glad. Now, sleep
.

“Hey, babe, how is he?”

Elliot looked up from his conversation with the nursing team to see Stephen standing in the door of Edward O’Keefe’s room in OI’s critical care unit.

“Hi, Kyle, Lynda,” Stephen quickly added. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” The look he shot Elliot was pure apology, even as his cheeks tinged with his embarrassment.

“Ted’s a fighter,” Elliot answered Stephen’s question, even though the old man was dying. He believed firmly in the power of mind over body, and as long as O’Keefe was willing to fight on, he wasn’t going to provide—even to the guy’s subconscious—the suggestion that he should surrender.

“Um … mind if I borrow Dr. Zerkowski?” Stephen asked the nurses, as he gestured with his head for Elliot to come out into the hall.

Elliot did, murmuring some nonsense to the wide-eyed nurses, who muttered some nonsense back, closing the door tightly behind him.

“Sorry,” Stephen said, wincing. “Sorry! I honestly didn’t see them. I think I was dazzled by the sight of you.”

That would’ve been lovely to hear, if … “Are we on the down-low with the Less-Than staff?” Elliot asked. He’d filed a report on the theory that sexual and emotional intimacy could enhance integration
levels, but he hadn’t used any names. Just subjects A, B, C, and D. “Because I don’t think I knew that.”

But Stephen was already shaking his head. “I just didn’t know how you want to play this, since we work together. Things like, what I should call you when other people are around—not
babe
obviously. I just …” He laughed, still ruefully embarrassed. “Props to me for not just grabbing and frenching you.”

Holy crap. “That would work for me, quite nicely, in my office, with the door closed,” Elliot said. “And I’d like to point out that you are welcome to drop by any time you want.”

Stephen’s smile was less embarrassed and more genuine now. “Good to know.”

“As far as outside of my office goes,” Elliot added, “I think we can start by finding the middle ground between
babe
and
Dr. Zerkowski
. Elliot seems just about right. Although despite not being a big fan of terms of endearment, I do find
babe
oddly appealing.”

And there they stood, foolishly grinning at each other.

But then Stephen got serious again and asked, “So how did it go with Dr. Bach and Anna? I went down to lab seven, but they were already gone.”

“It wasn’t successful,” Elliot told him.

Stephen didn’t drop the f-bomb very often, but he did so now, under his breath. And then he said. “Do they need me to try again? I could try again. God, I really don’t want to try again …”

“Anna had a negative reaction to the sleep aid,” Elliot explained. “But Joseph hasn’t given up. He seemed pretty confident that he could use what you showed him about controlled dreaming. And Anna’s okay. They were both just a little shaken and they needed a break.”

Stephen nodded. “Good. I mean, not good that they were shaken, but … I mean, I’m not going to say that I
won’t
try again. I would just … prefer not. To.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that,” Elliot said, looking at him hard. “What aren’t you telling me? You said it wasn’t painful when you
tried to connect with Anna, when her blood pressure flipped out—that you didn’t feel anything at all.”

“I didn’t,” Stephen said. “And maybe, in part, that was because I actively didn’t
want
to make that connection. I’ve been thinking about this—about why my integration levels suddenly started to bounce.”

Elliot just stood there, waiting for him to explain.

“Telepathy is new for me,” Stephen finally said. “And yes, I’ve had some experience going into the heads of other Greater-Thans. And sometimes—like with Mac, who’s even less experienced than I am—it can get messy. But most of the time, at least with Dr. Bach, he’s completely in control. He shields his thoughts and stays away from my shields, even though I know he could break through them. I can trust him to stay separate.”

He paused, and because Elliot knew where he was going, he continued for him. “But going into the head of a fraction …?”

“A non-Greater-Than,” Stephen chided him gently, then sighed. “And you’re right, that’s the problem. I panicked, which made my levels do a dance. I knew I didn’t have the ability to shield myself from Anna’s private and personal thoughts. And
she
certainly doesn’t have the ability to create a block to keep me out. And I know she said it was okay with her—she wants to find her sister so badly—but the idea of it just feels too personal. It
is
too personal. I know this because being inside of
your
mind …? With your inability to block your thoughts …?” Stephen shook his head. “It’s a deeply intimate experience, El. As intimate as sex. And, well, I’m just going to say it, okay? I don’t want to do that with anyone but you.”

Elliot didn’t know what to say, which was fine because even if he had the perfect rejoinder, he wouldn’t have been able to get his mouth and vocal cords moving to say it.

Stephen took Elliot’s silence for a need to change the subject and did so, glancing back at Edward O’Keefe’s door. “So how is he really?”

Elliot went with it.
This
he could talk about. “A few hours ago,
his organs were shutting down,” he informed Stephen, “and I would have told you he had only a few more hours left. But now …” He shook his head. “He’s not getting better, but he’s not getting worse, either. We just hooked him up to the massager, because Analysis just sent an alert—”

“Yeah, I saw that, too,” Stephen said.

Analysis’s team of scientists had just finished examining a highlevel complex brain scan that had been done on the elderly man, and had discovered that part of his brain was active.

It was the same smallish area of real estate that lit up for the Greater-Thans like Mac who had self-healing skills. So Elliot had come to hook O’Keefe up to the device lovingly nicknamed the brain massager. He’d programmed it to stimulate that same specific region of the old man’s brain.

“Do we still think he jokered?” Stephen asked, still unable to do more than glance into Elliot’s eyes, embarrassed again—this time no doubt because he feared he’d given too much away with that
anyone but you
proclamation.

“I’m not sure,” Elliot admitted. “He had traces of oxyclepta di-estraphen in his blood. What I’ve yet to find out is how much Destiny he was given and when. We’re hacking into JLG’s system right now.”

“Keep me posted,” Stephen said, and it was exactly what he might’ve said to Elliot in the past. So much so, that Elliot half-expected the Greater-Than to finish the sentence with
Dr. Z
.

Elliot reached for him without fully thinking, his intention to put his hand on Stephen’s arm and spark their instant connection so he could bring their conversation back to the
anyone but you
thing, but right before he touched Stephen, he remembered the words the other man had said about that connection being as intimate as sex. And it suddenly occurred to him that Stephen might not want to experience that intimacy in the hallway of the med unit, so he froze with his fingers mere inches from Stephen. And of course, Stephen being Stephen, he understood exactly what Elliot had been thinking, and he shifted closer, close enough to close the gap.

It’s okay. It’s private, simply by nature of being what it is
, he told Elliot. He also knew exactly what Elliot wanted to discuss.
I’m sorry if I freaked you out
.

You didn’t. I love that you don’t want to mind-fuck anyone else
.

Stephen laughed.
It’s not—

I know, I’m teasing
, Elliot told him.
Although I do apologize for having such a messy mind, and for being unable to control—

It’s not messy
, Stephen interrupted.
It’s beautiful—as is the trust that you show me by letting me in. I love feeling what you’re feeling. And that connected circle …? When I’m feeling what you’re feeling, which is what
I’m
feeling … That’s intimate on a scale that I’ve never experienced before. And I probably
couldn’t
do it with anyone else, but … The truth is, I don’t even want to try
.

Elliot nodded, and he knew that Stephen could feel his sudden burst of complete happiness.
We should talk to Bach, set some parameters that you’re comfortable with, in terms of your new telepathic skills. He’s the king of setting boundaries. He’ll understand, completely
.

Stephen nodded, too, but he didn’t look convinced. And he didn’t try to put his thoughts into words, he just unleashed it, and as Elliot absorbed it all, he knew that Stephen felt guilty about setting any restrictions. If his going into Anna’s head could help them find Nika, he felt that he should man up and do it.

Yeah, but you wouldn’t feel compelled to have sex with Anna in order to find Nika
, Elliot pointed out.
Would you?

Mac is
, Stephen said.
Not with Anna, but …

Mac is engaging in what she thinks is a win/win with Shane Laughlin
, Elliot told Stephen.
She can pretend it’s all about finding Nika through finding Devon Caine, but it’s not
.

Stephen nodded. He knew.

You know I love her dearly, but I would never judge any of
my
own decisions based on what Mac would or wouldn’t do
, Elliot told him, and then, as he broke their connection because his phone was buzzing in his pants, he added aloud, “Let’s give Bach a chance
to work his magic with Anna. I have faith in the maestro.” He glanced at his phone. “Ooh, I’m getting a message from Analysis. They just hacked JLG’s records. They’ve got a slew of information about Mr. O’Keefe.
Yes
. I’m going to go into my office and review it.”

He looked up at Stephen, and before he could ask,
Wanna come?
Stephen said, “Yes,” adding, “Didn’t need the telepathy for that one.”

Elliot laughed.

And Stephen said, “For the record? My answer’s pretty much universally
yes
.”

“Good to know,” Elliot echoed Stephen’s earlier words as they headed for his office.

Something had happened.

Shane had no idea what. All he knew was that after proclaiming that Mac had hit an integration level of sixty-two, the computer was no longer reciting numbers.

And that Mac had stopped crying.

He was ready and willing to just stand there, holding her until he dropped, but she broke away, finally ending their kiss.

Her face was somber and pale, but she opened her eyes and met his gaze as she quietly said, “I have to call Diaz and Bach. I know where Devon Caine is.”

“It worked?” Shane couldn’t keep from smiling even though she was still looking grim. “How did you—”

“I don’t know,” she cut him off, clearly frustrated with herself despite her success. “I don’t have to do anything. I just have to think about him and I can
feel
him. He’s out there. And I know I can find him. I mean, I couldn’t pinpoint him on a map, but I know I can lead a team to him. I’m certain of that.” She paused. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come, too. I can’t risk my integration levels dropping.”

“I’m ready,” Shane said. “Let’s do it. Just point the way.”

The
don’t be stupid
look she gave him was far more like the irreverent Mac that he knew and loved. “I think you can probably put me down now.”

“And risk your integration levels dropping?” He shook his head. “Hmm, I’m not sure that’s wise.”

“But walking the streets of Boston with our bare asses hanging out, engaged in public fornication
is
wise?” she countered, even more color returning to her cheeks.

“You’re right,” he said. “It’s much smarter to drive. A van, I think. That way we won’t bother Diaz if we need to jump into the back for a little integration enhancement. Chicka-chicka-bow-bow …”

She rolled her eyes. “Just put me down, Laughlin.”

“Yeah,” Shane said, drawing the word out. “I’m pretty sure my muscles locked about fifteen minutes ago.” It wasn’t quite true, but it was close, and he didn’t want to drop her.

“Oh, shit,” she said, genuinely contrite. “I’m sorry!”

“Don’t be,” he told her. His legs were fine. Aside from the postrelease wobble, he could’ve stood there for days, and he now managed a knee-bend to get her closer to the floor as she slid off of him. That freed up his arms and he shook them out and rolled his shoulders and stretched his back. “I’m not.”