by Fiona Quinn
One of the problems for me and traveling out of my body to gather information was that when I merged with the person, I was trying to help, I took on their pain and injuries as well as their thoughts and emotions. In order to get to the thoughts that I could piece together into a picture clear enough to be actionable, it usually meant I had to live through whatever horrific experience the victim was facing. After I re-merged with my body, I slipped into a recuperative trance. I’ve never seen what I looked like bloodied and bruised. But my teammates have. And they said it was horrific. That was why I promised that it had to be life or death, either for myself or for someone I loved. That’s why it was a last resort the day of the D.O.A. Fuller Mine catastrophe. But here and now, there was no doubt that this was what I needed to do.
And not only because it was family in trouble. But because I had a terrible feeling that Spyder’s trek down to Miami to get hold of the data that might have been in her necklace put Lynda on someone’s radar. Three men showing up at her door to take her to god knew where for god knew what reason the day after Spyder got the memory card from her house? That was way too coincidental. This crisis was probably collateral damage created by Spyder’s venture to Miami, and I was the one who’d led him there. Lynda’s becoming a target was probably my fault. It was my duty to save her.
“Striker, this is not open to discussion.”
The stare down Striker gave me was hard to stand against. After some minutes, I saw him waver.
“I mean it,” I said. “You can support me or not. Lynda has the shimmer that tells me she needs help now. The Veil is open, and I’m going.” To underline my conviction, I lay down on the floor, my water positioned within reach, and took a deep breath in.
“Wait.” Striker paced a three-foot path. He laced his fingers and posted his hands on the back of his neck, making the spread of his elbows look like a frilled lizard at its most intimidating. “Shit.” His face took on the mask of a warrior headed into the thick of battle. He picked up my phone. “Gator, code red, my apartment.” He tapped the phone again. “Miriam, Striker Rheas, this is an emergency… Lexi is going behind the Veil.” He held the phone away from his ear; Miriam’s yelling traveled over to me as loud, unintelligible buzzing. A hive of angry bees. When there was a break, Striker said, “Agreed. But she’s not listening to reason… That’s what I thought, too. I’m sending a siren to pick you up. Can you be outside and ready?” Striker’s last call was to dispatch, sending a police car to Miriam’s address.
“This is the compromise. It’s a crap one, no matter how you look at it. Damn it, Lynda,” he yelled at the ceiling. Cussing again. It was so shocking to me and surely a sign that the stress of all the things that were going wrong was getting to him. And I had added this crap to his distress. He pointed an authoritative finger at me. “Lynx, you are going to wait for support. You aren’t going anywhere until Miriam and Gator get here. Do you understand me?”
“Okay,” I said. My voice sounded small and frightened. Striker didn’t intimidate me; I knew he was using his commander’s vocabulary, not his personal relationship vocabulary. But I was scared of what I’d find on the other side of the Veil and just how badly I was going to be hurt. I should tell him this is my fault — that I had brought this danger to Lynda’s door — so he wouldn’t blame her for whatever happened next. Since it was classified, I had to hold my tongue. It was such a terrible lie that Striker thought I was sacrificing myself for Lynda when really, I was in self-preservation mode. How could I live with the guilt if I got Striker’s sister hurt or killed?
Chapter Sixteen
Striker disconnected with Miriam as a fist thumped on his door. Jumping to my feet, I grabbed the knob and swung it wide to find Gator on the other side. His stance and the tightness of his muscles told me Striker’s “code red” had thrown Gator into gladiator mode, hungry to slay whatever monster reared its head.
He was going to hate what came next.
From experience, I knew that Gator couldn’t stand the idea of being at a fight where he didn’t get to participate to the fullest. Especially when a woman was standing up against the bad guy, and he didn’t have a chance to do it himself. It wasn’t that Gator thought women didn’t have the capacity — he respected my skills as a fighter — but something about his upbringing on the back bayou of Louisiana told him that only a “candy-assed, no-account, scum-dweller” of a man would ever sit back and watch while a woman did the defending.
It cut Gator to the quick the one time he watched me go behind the Veil to save a woman held as a slave by one of our targets. Gator had said he’d never let that happen again. So I wasn’t sure he’d stay once he knew why Striker had called him.
I took Gator by the arm and pulled him into the living room where Striker seethed. “Someone got to Lynda again,” he told Gator.
“What the heck, Striker? I thought Axel blew that pile of shit to kingdom come.”
Striker shook his head.
I stood between the two men, slightly back, so we formed a conversation triangle. The geometry of this communication was a whole lot more pointy than a circle would warrant. “Three men showed up at Lynda’s house a few minutes ago,” I explained. “Cammy called us. So I’m going behind the Veil to find Lynda.”
“Oh, no, you ain’t.” Gator shook his finger at me. His eyes glowered. “The hell I’m gonna watch that happen to you again. Shit, you’re just now recovering from a plane crash, Lynx. You cain’t do this.” He spun on Striker. “You son of a bitch. You’d let her go behind the Veil?” His hands shot out, knocking Striker in the chest, sending him back a half a step.
My eyes stretched wide with shock.
“I can’t believe you, man. I thought you loved her.”
That was probably the lowest blow Gator had ever thrown. I could almost smell the testosterone as it coiled through the air like humidity in July.
Striker didn’t rise to the bait. “I told her not to do it, but she’s not listening to me. I hoped between you and Miriam someone could convince her this is crazy.”
“No one is convincing me of anything.” My voice was calm, though I shook inside. “I’ve already made up my mind. There’s more happening than what meets the eye. And I’m going to help her whether you like it or not. I promised Striker I’d wait for Miriam to get here. But then, I’m going, and nothing you can say will stop me.” I glanced at the wall clock and crossed my fingers for a little good traffic juju and a police officer who exalted in putting the pedal to the floor.
Striker canted his head; his legs were set wide, and his arms crossed tightly over his chest, making his biceps bulge. “What did you just say? Do you have intel that includes my sister?”
“Excuse me for a minute.” I went and picked up my phone, headed back to Striker’s room, locked the door, and sat on the bed. I shot Spyder a cipher-text which related — Lynda missing. Need to tell Striker why. Going behind Veil to find her. Advise. I paced while I waited for his response.
The intercom squawked, and I knew Miriam had arrived. Come on, Spyder. I continued to pace while I heard the “adults” discussing their “wayward child.” That’s how it felt, anyway. Riddle me this, I said to myself. How was it possible for time to speed forward and stand still at the same time? Why it sped forward when seconds might count in saving someone, and yet it stood still while waiting for a needed response. I couldn’t stall another second.
When I arrived in the living room, Gator was fussing with medical equipment he must have pulled from the guest room. When Omega had stormed Striker’s castle on the bay in an attempt to arrest me on trumped-up charges, I had to relocate here to the Iniquus grounds, where I was safe from almost anything — up to and including a nuclear bomb aimed at the White House. In the early days after my plane crash, I recorded my monitored vitals results and e-mailed them daily to my doctor. The machine might actually be useful here, as well. I’d never tried that before.
“Striker, I’m sorry. I asked for permission to discl
ose, and it hasn’t come through. Until you’re read into the program, I can’t brief you on anything related to my case.”
I could see in Striker’s eyes that his mind whirled with possibilities, and all of them confused him.
“Let’s agree on a plan.” I dressed my words up in a professional voice that was antithetical to how I felt. It was sort of like being Dr. Doolittle’s push-me-pull-you. I wanted to get in there, get this over with, and then flee the scene. I had no idea what was happening to Lynda, and the thought of willingly going into a torture session sucked the last particles of bravery from the very tips of my toes.
“I’m going to go behind the Veil.” I held up a hand as Gator and Miriam jumped in with their protests. “I will go long enough to get Lynda’s location. I will stay if it’s safe to stay. Once I have her location, if Lynda is being harmed, I will come right back.” I lifted my eyebrows and scanned the stormy faces in front of me. “You can use the monitoring equipment to watch my heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen. If my body shows signs of too much distress, then Gator can do whatever trick he has that yanks me back into my body.”
Miriam turned a searching look on Gator.
Gator shrugged. “Last time she went out of her body, my mind grabbed hold of part of her and held on tight.”
Striker moved forward and handed me Lynda’s picture, then wrapped me up tightly in his arms. “I love you, baby. I hate that you’re doing this, but thank you.” He kissed my hair then let me go.
I lay on the floor with a pillow stuck behind my head. Looking at Lynda’s image, I didn’t even need to ask. I simply slipped behind the Veil and into her body.
The stench of anxiety filled my nostrils. Fear sweat. Testosterone sweat. Leather. Vibrations rumbled through my hips and thighs and up my back. I saw no visuals. Everything was black except for the light show of phosphenes on my eyelids, twinkling like fireflies. “She’s blindfolded, still in the car. I sense no pain. Discomfort from the pressure of her weight against her hands tied behind her back.”
“Your heart rate and blood pressure are elevated,” Gator said. “I think hooking you up like this is going to be confusing. I cain’t for sure tell whether this is your system’s reaction or Lynda’s.”
“Lynda’s heart is racing. She’s hyperventilating and growing dizzy. Nausea. Hands and feet tingling — effects of adrenaline.”
“Lynx, I have a map to your right. I’m holding a pen out to you,” Miriam said. “Open your eyes and find the car.”
I tried to follow my mentor’s directives. But as I stared at the map, nothing came to me.
“Black SUV,” Striker said.
I tried to work with that but shook my head. I wished someone in the car would speak. But they just rumbled along. “I think they switched vehicles. This one doesn’t feel like an SUV. It’s smoother, and I think she’s in a captain’s chair. When she sways, it feels like she’s hitting into something like an armrest. I’d guess minivan.”
As I lay there, gathering little in the way of information, I wondered if this was going to be anticlimactic for all the angst my friends had shown on my behalf, or if this was the calm before the storm. I prayed it was the former. The windshield wipers beat back and forth. Flashes of light were followed quickly by thunder, adding to the oppression in the car. The driver moved slowly down the road. I wondered if it was because of the speed limit or the weather. “Can you check the local weather down there?”
“Miami is under a severe storm warning. Winds with the potential to cause damage, heavy rains, potential for hail,” Miriam said.
“Turning right. I think we’re coming off the highway. Stopping. Blinker ticking. Right again. Now a left.” And very soon, they slowed to a crawl. I heard the mechanical thunk, thunk, thunk of a garage door automatically opening, and the bang when it hit the ground behind our parked vehicle.
The door opened, and hands tightened over Lynda’s arms. She panicked and screamed at the top of her lungs. That got her a backhand that filled her mouth with blood.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch. Pull that again, and I’ll slam the kid.” Lynda’s eyes stretched wide behind her blindfold. The whole drive, she had been sending up prayers of thanksgiving that this time, the bad guys left Cammy behind. She knew that her daughter was safe, and that was all that had mattered to her. “Cammy? Cammy?” she yelled as she swayed and bucked against the hands that held her in place.
Another crashing blow, and she was on the ground—cold cement.
Lynda curled up in a ball and sobbed. Behind the Veil, I tried to keep some aspect of my awareness in the apartment with Striker so I could convey the information as I experienced it.
“Oh, dear, get a towel. Lexi, sweetheart, you’re bleeding from the mouth. You can’t take blows to the head. Come back,” Miriam said.
I could feel Striker beside her, sending out waves of volcanic heat.
“Jezzusfuckin’christ, get up.” A man kicked Lynda in the side. It hurt like hell, but I tried to hold my face as softly as possible, keeping this assault as much as I could from my team as they watched me for every nuance. I couldn’t let them pull me away before I had Lynda’s location.
They dragged Lynda inside and tied her to a chair. The room echoed — no fabric to absorb the sounds. The wind whooshed outside. I counted footsteps. I’d guess they were still the original three. I felt the bile that usually accompanies a walk behind the Veil slick up my throat. I thrust a hand over my mouth to hold it in.
“I put a bucket beside you. Open your eyes and drink some water,” Miriam whispered.
I did as she instructed, peeking beneath my eyelids.
I sensed movement in the corner behind Lynda. Memories flooded through me from when she was in the hunter’s shack, and the rustling from that direction had produced a brass knuckle-covered fist that beat her nearly to death. As that thought filtered through her consciousness, Lynda puked. I grabbed the bucket to catch my vomit. Lynda leaned as far forward as she could, given her restraints. She barfed onto her knees, and the warm liquid ran down her legs and into her shoes, filling the room with the pungent odor of stomach bile.
I heard a man’s voice.
“I want to see her. You have to tap on the camera icon with the slash line through it. There, that’s it. Now move the computer around so I can see her from the front.”
“Striker, I believe someone is Skyping into the room. Or using some kind of teleconferencing,” I said.
“Lynda, I’m here to ask you some questions, and you are going to answer them for me quickly, completely, and honestly. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“There was a man at your house last night. Who was he?”
“My dad?”
“I don’t believe so. This man had blackberry colored skin.”
Lynda shook her head. “I don’t know anyone like that. Someone broke into my house? How do you know someone was in my house?”
“I will ask the questions. This man went right in your front door as if he belonged there. He turned on the television and then went into your bedroom. He seemed very interested in a certain necklace. The necklace was made from an abalone shell and had turquoise beads. Do you know the necklace I am referring to?”
“Yes.”
“Answer me completely. Where did you get this necklace?”
“I won it as a prize at a party I went to with my fiancée, Greg. He’s dead. Greg is dead.” A great moan rose up her throat. More pictures flashed from her memory bank of watching him being tortured and killed.
“And why would anyone care about this necklace? Is it worth money?”
“I don’t know. You can have the necklace. You can have anything you want. Just take it and leave Cammy and me alone. Cammy? Cammy, are you there, honey?” Lynda twitched her head from side to side, trying to sense her daughter’s presence and wellbeing.
“How do you now Lexi Sobado?”
Lynda tensed. “I don’t, really. I mean, I met her one time at my d
aughter’s birthday party. I spoke to her. I don’t know her.”
“And yet she saved your life. Using psychic powers. Tell me about her psychic powers.”
Holy crap, this man knew about my sixth sense. How was that possible? The only people who knew what I could do are Miriam, my friend Dave, Spyder, and my team — well, and Lynda, a little. So how could he know? My mind pushed the word “mole” forward and underlined it a few times for emphasis. Miriam and Dave certainly weren’t part of this scenario. They didn’t know I saved Lynda from behind the Veil. That left my team. My team!
Lynda’s mind went haywire. She had sworn on her life to Striker and to me that she would never tell. She balanced that with her fear for Cammy and said, “Lexi has a gift for finding lost pets. If you bring her your pet’s photo, she can sometimes tell you about where they are. My brother knew that. One time I went missing, and he took my photo to her. She was able to point to the map. That’s where his friends started looking for me, and I was in the general area she pointed to.”
“You told Cammy to be a good girl and make a wish to her Fairy Godmother. When you said Fairy Godmother, you meant Lexi, didn’t you? You wanted Cammy to contact Lexi so she could find you this time as well.”
“Cammy couldn’t call Lexi. I don’t know how to contact Lexi. I don’t have her phone number or address or anything.”
“It seems to me, Miss Rheas, that you are lying by omission. You know more than you’re saying. Sins of the mother are visited upon their daughters.”
“Where is my daughter? What have you done to her?” Lynda screamed, and I heard my voice replicating the sounds for my support team to hear.
Striker jumped on the phone with his father, checking on the whereabouts of Cammy. He told him to get in the car now and drive to his friend’s house on the nearby army base.
Lynda sobbed, “I don’t know what more I can say. Lexi is uncomfortable talking about this. All I know is she has to have a recent photo in her hand. I asked my brother, Gavin, if she could see into the future. If Lexi could tell me how well I would heal from the night, the men beat me, or if I would ever find love again since they killed Greg. And he said no. Nothing that’s happened in the past. Nothing that will happen in the future. All she can do is help find your pet, and, on this one special occasion, she helped find me.”
