“Jake!” I scream, but it’s already too late.
I turn as the gunman’s weapon goes off. A silencer masks the gun’s blast as a bullet rips through the side of Jake’s head.
Screaming hysterically, I watch in terror as my husband’s lifeless body falls to the ground. “Jake! God, no! JAKE!” I start to go to him, but the gunman steps in front of me, blocking my way. To my horror, I recognize him as my mother’s bodyguard, Benjamin Winston.
Instinctively, I unleash a hurricane-force wind that blows Mr. Winston off his feet and sends him crashing headfirst through the mirrored closet door. I’m just about to send a flurry of broken glass into the man’s chest when I hear an all-too-familiar voice behind me.
“Oh, now look what you’ve done to poor Benjamin.”
“Poor Benjamin?!” I cry, whirling on my mother’s silhouette as she sits in the darkness at the small table next to the window. “You just murdered my husband!” I send out a burst of air that flips on the light switch, revealing the four people before me.
“I suppose you had that obnoxious Elvis impersonator marry you again,” my mother says, blinking her eyes as she primly sits, gloved hands folded in her lap. She’s wearing an old-lady Chanel suits that she thinks gives her that Jackie Kennedy, I’m-entitled-to-be-the-First-Lady flair. But let me assure you that no outfit in the world could mask the depravity that lingers behind those cold green eyes. “You’re outnumbered, dear. You may as well surrender.”
I glance at the three men behind her—all Secret Service agents. All with their guns trained on me.
“What the hell are you doing here, Mother?” I say, furious with myself that I actually believed that I could escape her. And Jake…my poor, poor Jake!
“Surprised to see me so soon after the wedding, I bet,” she says matter-of-factly. “It’s amazing what good intel one gets when one has access to a clairvoyant 24-7.” She pauses then and narrows her gaze at me. “Now, then, Alison, I think it’s time you put a stop to this nonsense.”
“Nonsense? You murdered my husband!” I shout at her. And out of the corner of my eye I see the Secret Service men nervously shift their weight. But my mother doesn’t bat an eyelash.
“Oh, my dear,” she says in that bored, demeaning manner of hers. “Why, I’ve had both of your previous husbands killed too. Didn’t you know?” Her unflappable expression becomes strained. “Stupid girl—did you really think we’d go through all the trouble of seeking an annulment from the archbishop every time you decided to get married?”
As the extent of her depravity sinks in, I can hardly keep from ripping the woman’s hair out in rage. But I know I can’t go there. Her death by my hand would only make her a martyr. Then there would be no stopping my father from advancing even more of his anti-psion legislation through Congress. “I hate you,” I say quietly.
“It’s mutual. Now, about that surrender…”
“Go to hell.” And I unleash my fury on the three men before me. They haven’t a prayer, because I attack them from behind. Before a single one of them can fire a round, I whip the air molecules into a frenzy, instantly creating a turbulent, gale-force vortex that sucks the men off their feet and slams them against the wall behind them.
My mother’s eyes open wide with surprise as the last of her bodyguards slides to the floor unconscious, but it only lasts a moment. She turns back to me and narrows those cold eyes, as if truly seeing me for the very first time. “You’ve gotten more powerful, I see.”
“You’re just lucky that I’m not a murdering psycho bitch from hell like you!” And that’s when I lash out at her. Drawing the very air into taut, powerful streams, I blast her out of her chair and send her reeling into the back wall. She hits with a thud, the contents of her purse spilling across the floor. The unconscious bodies of her bodyguards break her fall. Lucky her.
Seeing my backpack lying open on the floor, I pick it up and sweep all of my makeup and the contact lens case inside. Then I race to Jake’s side, even though I know there is nothing I can do for him now.
At the sight of him, I slowly sink to the floor and release a deep, gasping sob. His blood has pooled beneath him, and his eyes gaze vacantly at the ceiling. He’s gone. The love of my life is gone.
“Alison?” my mother calls as she staggers to her feet. “Alison? Where on earth do you think you’re going?”
“The hell away from you,” I growl. I take a moment to close Jake’s eyes with my trembling fingertips. Leaning down, I kiss his cold, smooth cheek.
“Goodbye, baby,” I whisper in his ear. “I will always love you.” My time growing short, I reach into his coat pocket and remove the cash inside. I know he would have wanted me to have it. And right now, I need every penny of it, if I hope to survive out there alone.
“Alison,” my mother says, limping on a broken heel. She looks like she wants to wring my neck, but she wisely keeps her distance. Her rage is palpable, but I continue to ignore her because I’m afraid of what I might do to her if I linger much longer. “You know, it’ll only be a matter of time before I track you down again.”
“Perhaps,” I vaguely reply, as I brush aside a rogue curl from my dead husband’s face. God, I’m going to miss him!
Rising to my feet, I walk to the door.
“Alison Wingate! Get back here!”
Ooh…my mother actually sounds angry with me.
Holding open the door, I call over my shoulder. “Alison Wingate no longer exists. She’s as dead to me as you are.”
Stepping out into the cool night air, I close the door behind me, satisfied to hear my mother shouting after me. I stuff all of the money from my bra into my backpack, followed by my wig. I have no idea how I am functioning right now, but I’m thankful to have some extra clothing in my pack to layer against those cold nights I’ll be spending out in the desert.
The scream of sirens approaching in the distance signal that my time here is officially over. With one last glance back at the hotel room door, behind which my true love lies, I raise my hands to the night sky and take flight.
Chapter Twelve
THIS time, Devon was a bit more prepared to handle the violent mind-flush as he returned to his body after a dizzying, out of control blur of motion. In a burst of light, he was once again sitting on the silent grass beneath the canopy of Bai Lee’s glorious willow tree. His arms were wrapped around Alya, her head resting comfortably against his chest.
Except something didn’t quite feel right. His emotions were all backed up in his throat, and his chest ached as if his heart had just been ripped out by a pack of raging dingos, trampled over by a rampaging herd of wildebeests, and then returned to his ribcage with the surgical precision of a blindfolded gorilla.
He ached, but it wasn’t in a physical way. It was much deeper than that. It felt as if a hole had been blowtorched through his very soul. He rubbed his chest in an attempt to stop the anguish that lingered inside him, then it dawned on him that what he was experiencing was the residual effects of Nevada’s heartbreak. She had indeed lost her soulmate… and that was hurt enough to drive anyone mad with despair.
“I—I’m sorry, Nevada.”
Devon glanced to his right and saw that it was Alek who had spoken. The Romanian shook his head miserably as he sat curled in a ball with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. “I just didn’t realize…” His voice trailed off, as if it had been simply too much for him to continue to speak.
“It’s fine,” Nevada slurred from the wooden lounge. “Nothing to do ’bout it now.”
“We can pray,” Miguel suggested. He was standing at the head of the wooden lounge, just where he had promised Nevada he would be when she awoke.
Nevada blinked up at him in confusion. “For the dead, Padre?”
Miguel grinned down her. “No. For you, my dear.”
Nevada offered him a wan smile. “You know, I think I’d like that.”
Bai Lee was unusually solemn as she sat at the foot of the wooden lounge. H
er gaze was cast downward, her lips pursed, and Devon wondered what she was thinking about. Apparently, Nevada’s replay had had a bit more of an effect on their psyches than any of them could have anticipated—Bai Lee included.
Vahn joined Miguel at the wooden lounge, and together they helped Nevada sit up as she slowly gained her bearings. The mood beneath the willow had become somber, and Devon knew that he would not be able to look at Nevada in quite the same way again. She had grown in his eyes. Like Vahn, she was a warrior, taking on an enemy, her own family, that was bigger than life, and much more dangerous.
It was then that another thought struck Devon—Nevada’s abusive first husband had been a psi-cannon. No wonder she held them in such low regard. And here he had boldly proclaimed himself to be one in front of everybody!
Devon felt his insides shrivel with regret. Couldn’t he do anything right?
“Bai Lee?” Alya said quietly.
The telepath’s gaze slid over to her. “Yeah?”
“I’d like to go next.”
Say what?! Devon bolted upright, causing Alya’s head to bump against his chest. “Alya, are you sure?”
She released a small sigh. “Yes, Devon. We all must take our turn at some point.”
“But you’re so weak.”
Alya tilted her head back and gave Devon a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry; I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, but—” Devon couldn’t say aloud what he really wanted to say, because it would only come out sounding stupid. He enjoyed feeling her heart beating against his chest when he held her in his arms. Her warmth made him smile; the scent of her hair made him delirious. And mostly, a part of him wondered when he’d ever be able to hold such a beautiful woman in his arms again. “Well, okay…”
Alya’s smile brightened. “Don’t look so sad.” She planted a sweet kiss on Devon’s cheek. “I promise I won’t be long.”
Devon’s heart soared in anticipation of holding her again, and the kiss wasn’t too shabby either. He just wished that it had been on his lips. But then again, everyone was staring at them, including Alya’s twin, Alek, who would have no trouble punching Devon in the face the moment his sister’s back was turned.
“Let me help you up, Alya,” Alek said as he stood over them, his hand extended to his sister.
Alya hesitated a moment before taking her brother’s hand, and Devon tensed up, readying himself to spring into action if things turned ugly. Alek was gentle as he helped her rise; however, it wasn’t until Vahn stepped in and assisted that Alya was fully on her feet.
“Thank you, Vahn, Alek,” Alya said as Devon popped up beside her. “But I think Devon can escort me the rest of the way.”
“Yes’m,” Vahn replied with a nod, and he stepped aside while Alya wrapped Devon’s arm around her waist.
Alek, too, stepped back, allowing them to pass. Alya’s twin appeared surprisingly calm…tranquil, even. As if he had never had an issue with Plant Boy wrapping his arms around his beautiful sister.
Devon, however, remained wary and made sure not to turn his back on Alek. It was always the trusting kids who got sucker-punched in the hallways. Then again, maybe Nevada’s story had had some kind of effect on him. Either way, Devon wasn’t about to get blindsided if he could avoid it.
Miguel helped Nevada sit down on the grass close to where they had previously been sitting. Nevada still looked out of it, though. Devon wondered what effect that kind of brain drain was going to have on Alya.
Devon nodded to Bai Lee as they approached. “Can you go easy on her when you do your voodoo this time?”
“My voodoo?”
“You know what I mean,” Devon replied with a frown. “Alya’s not feeling well.”
“Devon,” Alya said, with a wave of her hand. “It’s fine.”
“You saw how disoriented Vahn and Nevada were after they woke up from their replays…”
“The effects wore off pretty quickly for me,” Vahn interjected.
“Yeah, but you’re a super-soldier.”
“Devon, please,” said Alya. She smiled wearily at him. “It’s my turn. We all made an agreement, and I mean to honor it.”
Devon’s shame twisted his guts into knots. His stupid plan was taking on a life of its own and proving much more complicated than he could have ever predicted. A part of him wanted to call a time-out, confess everything…but that would mean that he would never be allowed to escape with the others.
At a loss for words, Devon nodded and flashed Alya a tight little smile. He’d started this mess, and he’d have to see it through to its end. He just prayed that he could somehow be the last person to replay and, in that way, hold Alya in his arms just a bit longer before she saw what a complete and utter loser he was.
Vahn and Devon helped Alya lie down on the wooden lounge. As soon as her head touched the soft pile of leaves, Devon thought he heard the tree sigh. In a flutter of subtle motion, the tree’s branches twisted around Alya, gently cradling her body. It reminded Devon of the time he compelled his mother’s stubborn rosebushes to entangle their thorny stems around the lattice archway in her garden. Of course, he was fully aware that he was the only lame-o in the room who could achieve that kind of rapid plant growth in the real world.
But then again, this wasn’t the real world. This was a world of Bai Lee’s creation. Her grass didn’t scream.
Devon watched the leaves silently sprouting around Alya’s head as she gazed up at him. He hoped she was comfortable and that her replay wouldn’t take too much out of her. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Alya gave him a beautiful smile. “I know.”
Though a part of him wanted to celebrate the fact that a gorgeous blonde was smiling at him, the worry tugging at his heart made that impossible.
“Is there anything you wish to tell us before we begin?” Bai Lee asked from her perch. Her expression was unreadable.
“Yes,” Alya replied. She turned her head slightly to the others seated in the grass before her. “I was kidnapped from the Romanian Government Psionic Center by a powerful Russian mobster when I was five years old.”
“But you were a princess,” said Nevada. “Why were you at a government Psi-Center?”
“While it is true that I am of noble blood, I am not a princess,” she replied.
“My sister’s too much of a lady to tell you the truth of things,” Alek interjected, rising to his feet. “Our birth was never officially recognized by the Romanian royal family. Our names were changed to keep up appearances, and we were given to a distant cousin to raise.” He paused to scoff before continuing. “It was our dear cousin who placed us in the Psionic Center, which had once been a Soviet baby house. Complete with leaking pipes, soiled mattresses, and rats the size of small dogs.”
“Alek, please,” Alya said softly.
“You got off easy, dear sister,” Alek sneered. “You got out of there within a year.”
“I was kidnapped.”
“You were spared the misery of that wretched place!”
“Alek!” Bai Lee shouted. “This is Alya’s time to speak, so sit down and shut up.”
Alek glowered at Bai Lee, but remained silent as he slowly sat back down. His anger was evident, however; Devon could feel it radiating off of him in waves. That Romanian psi facility must have been hell on earth for him.
“Alya,” said Bai Lee in that husky tone of hers, “you were saying?”
“Yes…right.” Alya paused to take a breath. “This mobster had a very sick son who was four years older than me. The boy, Viktor, had leukemia. And for the last ten years I have been keeping him alive. In a secluded mansion on Long Island, New York.”
“You mean you’ve been held prisoner on Long Island for the last ten years?” Devon asked.
Alya looked up at him. “Darling, I’ve been a prisoner all my life. And because of what I can do, I probably always will be.”
Devon brushed aside a stray lock of hair that had fallen across Alya’s fa
ce. “I wish I could protect you from all that… you know, be more like Superman.”
Turning her head, Alya rested her cheek against his hand. “Devon, you already are.”
Huh? Devon wasn’t sure what she meant by that, because he sure as heck wasn’t Superman. But before he could reply, he heard Bai Lee politely cough.
“Alya,” Bai Lee said. “Time’s ticking away here. You ready, or what?”
Alya nodded. “Ready.”
Devon was about to object when Alya closed her eyes and the world around them collapsed. With no time to shift gears, Devon was painfully ripped from this reality with a sensation that felt something like sandpaper furiously grinding away his every molecule.
He blinked out of existence with a mental scream.
Alya’s Story
Chapter Thirteen
THE best evenings are the moonlit ones. I can see the shoreline from my tiny balcony and watch the waves crash upon the sand. I don’t mind that it’s chilly outside, because the rhythmic beating of the waves fills me with something so soothing—so primal—that I want to wrap my arms around it and press it deep into my soul. I want to carry within me this tiny measure of peace everywhere I go. Especially on the days I work with Viktor—acute myeloid leukemia is a vile disease and it takes me days to rid its effects from my body.
I shudder, and it’s not just from the cold breeze off the water. It’s because Viktor’s disease continues to resist me. When he relapsed for a third time ten years ago, I was brought here to keep his leukemia at bay. I have been waging war with an intangible beast ever since. And I am frightened—because now the beast is winning.
And if Viktor dies… No. I can’t go there. Worrying about the future is futile. There is only the here and now, and I must relish every moment I have alone in my comfortable little room. No one molests me or beats me here, unlike the horrors I left behind in Romania.
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