Unspeakable (Beyond Human)

by Nina Croft

  “I know it’s because you feel too much,” Jake said. “And you don’t want us all to share that. But we’re here for you.”

  Aw. “Thanks, boss.” She traced a pattern with her fingertip on the wooden table, while she got up the courage to ask her question.

  “Just ask.”

  She smiled. He was perceptive, even when he wasn’t reading her mind. She took a deep breath. “I know you’ve been talking with Kane and the others, going through what we can do, if there’s anything we didn’t know about, any other powers—like me finding out about the animal thing.” She patted Max on the head, and he gazed at her quizzically.

  “Well, we have found that while we all have things we are better at, we can all learn to some extent. It’s just a matter of understanding the pathways. So Rose can teach you to throw a psi-bolt, once she understands how it works.”

  That would be useful, but not what she was looking for. “What about new stuff, stuff we didn’t know about?”

  He gave her a sharp glance. “Do you want to be more specific?”

  She squirmed in her seat. No, she didn’t, but she was going to, because it was driving her mad. The idea was crazy, but so was just about everything they could do, everything they had discovered over the time since they had broken free.

  “Come on, Sadie, I’m intrigued now.”

  What the hell. “Seeing the future.”

  She waited for a comment. When nothing came, she raised her gaze from her hands to Jake’s face. He looked…way past intrigued.

  “You’re seeing the future?”

  Dangerous ground. She didn’t want to get into specifics. “I don’t know. I’m seeing things, in my sleep.”

  “And then they happen?”

  “They didn’t. I thought they were nothing more than dreams.”

  “But…?”

  “Last week I dreamed this. I saw us sitting here.”

  “Not unusual.”

  “With Max?” She nodded to the Doberman sitting at her side, his head on her lap.

  “Ah.” Jake was staring into space. “Prescience. Wow.”

  He was taking it well.

  “So Kane never mentioned anything?”

  “No. But—wow.”

  Her heart sank. She’d been hoping for something…anything…that would help her make sense of what was going on. Help her distinguish dreams from reality. “Well, glad I could cheer up your day.”

  “I’m not sure you’ve cheered me up. The…implications are huge. Anything else?”

  “Not that I can think of—or rather nothing that’s been proved.” She had a flashback to making love with Ethan that morning. No way was she mentioning that—it was clearly never going to happen. She might not have been so discriminating about her bed partners in the past—sex was the one thing that kept the negative thoughts at bay—but she’d certainly be on her guard. Forewarned was forearmed.

  Presumably not everything she saw in her dreams would come true. Some were maybe just dreams.

  So where had her subconscious plucked him from? There had to be a logical reason somewhere. She just couldn’t come up with one as yet. Give her time.

  “Sadie?”

  “Sorry, I was…”

  “Working out how much to tell me? I know there’s more. It really might help to share.”

  “And I will. I’m still sort of reeling from the shock.” She patted Max’s head. “Before last night it never—and I mean, never in a million years—occurred to me that my dreams could be real.”

  “You’re dreaming more than you used to.”

  “Before this, I never dreamed. Nothing.”

  “So any dreams you have now, you can presume are due to this…change?”

  “I suppose.”

  They were both silent for a minute. “Well, if time travel is possible,” Jake said, “then anything is. I’ve done a lot of thinking about this—and a lot of discussing with Christa, who by the way is convinced it’s true—about how it could work. Are all different times existing at once, like places, so if you know how, you can move between them? Are they fixed? Or can we change stuff? It’s enough to make your mind explode.”

  “Huh, tell me about it.” The whole telepathy thing had been crazy enough, this was beyond crazy.

  “I suppose what I’m saying is, maybe prescience is almost inevitable. You’re merely getting a glimpse of a time that’s already existing, parallel to us. It’s beyond amazing.”

  Well, she was happy he liked the sound of it—he could have it. “I don’t want to see the future. Knowing the past is bad enough.” She shrugged. “I just wanted to know if Kane had mentioned the possibility. I guess not. Maybe it’s nothing. A glitch and it will go away if I try to ignore it.”

  “What if it’s trying to tell you something important?”

  A shiver ran through her as she remembered the sensation of hands on her body, the touch of his mouth against hers. The feeling of being loved.

  No! Not going there.

  “I don’t believe that. It’s more likely just random crap.”

  He pursed his lips. “You’ll talk to me when you’ve thought it through. Tell me if there’s anything I need to know.” A twinge of guilt nudged her in the side but she ignored it. “Or talk to Christa, if you think it will help more.”

  “And then she’ll tell you. I know you guys don’t keep anything from each other.”

  “I won’t ask for more until you’re ready.”

  “Good. Now, I’m going to take my new dog for a walk on the Heath. Clear my head.”

  He nodded. “You’ll do what’s right.”

  It was knowing what was right that was the problem. She’d do a little digging, find out a little more about Ethan Weiland, and then she’d decide what to do next.

  “Come, Max.”

  She paused and turned at the door. “You know, I wish Kaitlin were here. She would love seeing the future.”

  Pain flashed across his face. “Kaitlin’s dead.”

  Chapter Four

  Kaitlin opened her eyes and gazed up at the white ceiling, bisected by the strip light.

  Kane!

  She was going to kill the bastard, rip his brain out through his eye sockets and beat him to death with it.

  It was her first thought on waking—same as it had been for the last one hundred and eighty days or so she’d been stuck in here.

  She came up on her elbows and peered around her. Nope. Nothing had changed. She was still stuck in her nine-foot by nine-foot cell, windowless except for the little glass pane in the doorway where the occasional passerby peered in at her as though she was some rare and dangerous exhibit at a zoo.

  Rare and dangerous.

  She liked that, and it was probably a good description. Or at least, she’d like to be dangerous if she ever got the chance.

  What was happening outside?

  Were Jake and the others all dead? If they were alive, surely they would have come for her by now? Maybe Kane had killed them all. As he’d killed Teagan.

  Her head ached, but hopefully that was lack of fresh air and maybe too much of the drug they gave her to suppress her powers. They’d stopped the tests a few months ago. They’d been very unpleasant, but at least there was no permanent damage. They hadn’t cut out her brain, put it into a jar, and hooked it up to a computer, as they had with Sam.

  She’d switched him off. She’d begged him to stay, but the pain had been unbearable, and so really, she had killed her own brother. She allowed herself one self-pitying sniff and then straightened her spine.

  Would she ever get out of here?

  A face peered in through the glass of the door. Kaitlin pushed off the thin sheet and scrambled to her feet. She hated being at a disadvantage. She was dressed; they didn’t actually provide pajamas in here, so she kept her clothes on—sweats and a white T-shirt—in bed so she’d be ready for anything. Not that much ever happened. If they didn’t kill her, she would probably die of boredom.

  When
the door opened, a man stood there, a stranger. Relatively young, maybe in his thirties, with dark hair and an unlined face. He was medium height and wore black jeans and a white shirt. He wasn’t a guard then, they all wore uniforms. She searched his hairline and found the telltale glint of silver. He was wearing the reflector device so she couldn’t read his thoughts. What a surprise.

  He was flanked by two guards, but he turned and spoke to them. “You can leave us now.”

  “Sir, we’re not allowed to leave you alone with the prisoner. She’s dangerous.”

  He looked doubtful, quite rightly. She didn’t look dangerous. She hadn’t actually seen a mirror in months, but she was guessing she looked like a too-thin girl with pale skin and lank hair.

  “I think I can protect myself from one girl.”

  She almost smiled. The guards didn’t. “She broke a guard’s arms last month,” one of them said.

  “And kicked another in the balls, sir.”

  “Oh.”

  She gave a smile. “I’ll be good. Your balls are safe with me.”

  “There, see, she’ll be good.” Was the man an idiot? “I’ll take responsibility,” he added. “Leave us.”

  They did, albeit reluctantly. As the door closed, she studied him, the balls or a swift chop across the throat. She might not look like it but she’d started military training at thirteen, when Jake had finally given in to her pestering. She’d never been on a real mission though—he’d said not until she was eighteen, and she’d been a prisoner by the time that happened.

  In the end, she shrugged and sat back down on the cot. Maybe she’d listen to what this guy had to say. At least he was someone new, though she doubted very much he had anything new to say.

  He perched himself on the single upright chair in the room, then twisted it so he was facing her.

  “I’m Jason Walker, the new doctor in charge of your…case.”

  She glared. “I’m not a fucking case, mister. I’m a person, and I’ve been kept prisoner here. I want to see a fucking lawyer.”

  He leaned back in the chair as though to put some distance between them. She glanced at the window where the guards were watching. It would do no good to hurt him; she’d hold off until he really pissed her off.

  “So why the change?” she asked. “Me and the other guy were getting on so well.”

  A brief smile flashed across his face. At least he had a sense of humor. “I’ve read the reports.”

  “So why are you here?”

  “There has been a change in circumstances. Your friends on the outside are all dead. You have nowhere to go.”

  Shock stabbed her in the gut. But he couldn’t know. They couldn’t be dead. “I don’t believe you.”

  “What would it take to make you believe what I say?”

  Her gaze flashed to the reflector device.

  He gave a quick smile and then reached up and slipped the device from his head. For a moment, she sat with her mouth open, and then she reached out and peered into his mind. He was who he said he was, and he believed he was here to try and persuade her to work with them.

  Also, he was telling the truth—as far as he knew it. He’d been told her friends were all dead. That didn’t mean it was true. She wouldn’t believe it. She dug a little deeper and found no mention about the Conclave. He believed he worked for a government department. She plucked all the details, in case they could be of use.

  “What can you see?” he asked. He was skeptical; while he’d read the reports, there was nothing in them to prove she could do anything. Which meant he didn’t have access to the Tribe’s old case files. “And by the way,” he added. “I was told not to believe a word you say.”

  “Fair enough.” Her powers were dulled by the drug, but still this close, she could see everything in his head. “You have a wife named Julie and a fourteen-week-old baby, Sophie.”

  Shock flashed across his face. He blanked it quickly, but she read his instinctive fear, his need to protect his daughter.

  “You’re being paranoid. I can hardly hurt her from in here, can I? Hmm, what else? Sophie is a sweetheart, but she’s expensive, which is why you took this job although you once swore you would never work for the military. You’re a…behavioral scientist. Whatever one of those is.”

  “I—”

  She waved a hand at him to stop the words. “Don’t worry with the explanation. I’ll get it out of your head later. But I’m guessing you’re some sort of brainwashing expert. You think you can persuade me to work with my captors where force has failed. You’re here to be the nice guy, and honestly, with the types I’ve been mixing with lately—that will not be a challenge.” She raised her arms, there were dark bracelets around her wrists from the last time she’d been restrained. Shock flashed across his face, and she studied him for a moment. “The truth is, you have no clue what you are involved in.”

  “I don’t need to know.”

  She ignored him. “If you’re really so nice, tell me, my friends—not the ones on the outside, the ones in here—are they alive? Are they okay?” Trouble with being able to read minds, though, was she already knew the answer. He knew nothing about Stefan and the others. “Just find out. Then we’ll talk again. For now, we’re finished.”

  She lay down on the bed, rolled over so she faced away from him, curled her knees up to her chest, and ignored him. His chair scraped as he got up, and the door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone.

  But a little spurt of hope sprang to life inside her.

  She didn’t trust her captors, and they were clearly only telling this man what they wanted him, and through him, her, to know. But at least, this was a change in tactic. Would she be able to bargain for certain things, maybe see the others, get off the drug? Fresh air. She dreamed about it. Then maybe she could reach out and contact someone. She didn’t believe for a second that Jake was dead. Or Kane—he wouldn’t dare die before she got the chance to kill him.

  …

  Ethan stared at his phone. It had been twenty-four hours and no news from his father. He didn’t like it. How long could it take to find out what Forrester was involved with?

  Of course there was rivalry among the inherited members of the Conclave. They were all brought up to believe they were destined to be goddamned rulers of the world, and that made for a lot of ego. But they usually cooperated when it mattered. Unless something huge was going down, which took priority.

  He stood up, restless, paced the huge office a couple of times. It was empty but for a desk and two chairs, a laptop, and his phone on the desk. He didn’t like clutter. The walls were bare, painted pale gray, and there were two doors, one to his assistant’s office, the other to his private quarters. One wall was made up entirely of glass. They were the highest building around, and he was on the top floor, so as he paused and stared out of the window, the whole of the city spread out before him.

  When he’d come back, after his time in the army, he’d thought he could change things. That was the lure his father had used. This was his birthright and could be turned to whatever purpose he chose within the parameters of the Conclave’s guidelines. And they were broad. The people who had set up the organization all those centuries ago hadn’t been the types to be confined by rules. Five men, who founded five dynasties. Probably the most powerful families in existence, though unheard of by the average man on the street. But as his father had pointed out, there was nothing inherently evil about the Conclave. It was as good or bad as the men who ruled it. Why not be a force for good?

  He wasn’t sure his father believed the idea had any merit, but he’d wanted Ethan back in the fold. He’d gone to amazing lengths to get him out of an Iraqi prison, to offer him the opportunity. He would have said anything to persuade him to come back.

  Of course, taking control of the Conclave hadn’t been the real reason Ethan had come back. But he was hardly likely to share that with his father.

  His phone rang and he strode back to the desk and picked it up.
It wasn’t his father, but Fergus, his personal assistant, and he pressed the button to take the call.

  He’d first met Fergus in the army—he’d been the platoon’s sergeant when Ethan had joined as an eighteen-year-old. Later, he’d shared a cell with the man in an Iraqi prison.

  Fergus would have died in that prison cell if Ethan hadn’t insisted his father rescue the man when he came for Ethan. Afterward, he’d offered Fergus a place in the Conclave, made sure that he understood the consequences if he decided to leave. Fergus was loyal and knew most of Ethan’s business—you needed at least one person you were sure was on your side.

  “I have an outside call for you,” Fergus said. “A woman. She said you would want to talk to her—she mentioned the name Forrester.”

  “Really? You’d better put her through, then, but stay on the line.”

  A second later the phone clicked. “Hello. Weiland speaking.”

  “Ethan, how lovely to talk to you. I thought it might have been harder.”

  “You said the magic word.”

  “Forrester? Poor man.” She sighed dramatically.

  He didn’t recognize the voice. Was this some sort of power play from the Conclave? “Who are you?”

  “The name’s Suzi.”

  When she said nothing more, he exhaled with impatience. “And you knew Forrester?”

  “I was about to get to know him very well. Unfortunately, he was dead when we arrived.”

  “We.”

  “My friend and I. Come on, Ethan, you were there that night. You saw us. And we saw you.”

  He frowned, then moved around the desk, sank into the seat, and swiped his finger across the laptop. A picture filled the screen. Two women, both tall, both beautiful, in short dresses, matching fake fur jackets, and towering heels. They were outside Forrester’s house. The hookers. They’d been cleared by his police contact. Which meant either she was genuine or she had an extremely good cover. They certainly looked the part.

  “Which one are you?” he asked. “The blonde or the brunette?”

  “Which would you prefer?”

  He stared at the picture. The black-haired woman was possibly the more beautiful, but the blonde had an edge, something a little unusual. If he had to fuck one of them, she’d be the one. His dick jerked at the thought. He hadn’t had a woman in too long that was all. “The blonde,” he replied.