"Sam, slow down. We don't know what's down there."
But I knew. Her mind, slow and sluggish, called to me.
'Sam, they took him. You have to save my baby. Please.'
"Darren, help me. She's in the car!"
The car had toppled down a steep embankment and landed on its side. Darren used his telekinesis to pull off the driver's door and lift Mrs. Beaumont out.
I cried, feeling helpless and scared. "Where's Tommy? Darren, find Tommy!"
"Sam, she's the only one in there. I'm sorry." He laid her on the pavement next to us and called 9-1-1.
I sat by her, holding her hand, while her chest heaved in unnatural rhythms and blood gurgled from her mouth. Something had partially smashed her face in. "Just hold on. Please, hold on. Help will be here soon."
A tear, laced with blood, trickled from the corner of her eye. She couldn't speak, but she could think. 'Men in black ran us off the road. Took Tommy. Save him. He needs you, Sam. Please.'
"I will. I swear it. I'll find him." The grit of the road bit into my knees as her blood soaked my hands. More blood. I'll never be free of the stains.
In her final moments, her mind burst open, showing me everything about her life—Tommy, and her ex-husband, the pedophile I'd exposed on my last assignment. She'd already seen the monster in him, and had been ready to act when I came. She knew about my para-powers long before I went public, and had contributed the large donations that had helped me and my friends reestablish ourselves once we'd all escaped Rent-A-Kid. I owed her so much.
With her dying breath, she passed the care of her son into my hands.
My bloodstained, shaking hands.
Chapter 82 – Drake
Toby runs, disappearing into the trees.
The house crackles with flames, and the heat of the fire burns Drake's skin and eyes. He runs after Toby, but no matter how hard he pushes himself, Toby is always just out of reach, taunting him. Drake pushes forward.
He has to stop what's about to happen, but the forest erupts into flames and a tree falls, pinning him to the ground. His ribs crack and pierce his lungs. Pain drives him mad, but still he reaches for Toby. "Don't go. You're not safe."
A man in black seizes the boy and takes him away.
Toby screams as Drake pulls on a power he doesn't have anymore. He can't move the tree. Can't heal himself. Can't breathe. He will die, and so will Toby.
***
Drake jerked awake, unsure of where he was, or why. The jail smelled of vomit and body odor, and his cot had seen better days. He hadn't been forced to share a cell with anyone... yet—a small but cherished blessing, given the look of the other detainees.
A guard with a shabby goatee and too much gut shoved a cafeteria tray into his cell. "Breakfast."
The food, if it could be called that, smelled like day-old garbage, but Drake shoved it into his mouth without thinking. He needed his strength—what little he had—and couldn't waste any chance for nourishment. His sorrows had made him mopey and lethargic. Now, people needed him, and he had to get his shit together.
The guard flicked on a television that faced the cells and left.
Drake would have preferred silence. A Law & Order rerun played in the background as he thought about his options, which pretty much amounted to nothing. He had no money, no lawyer, no chance in hell of getting out of this mess.
He snapped back to attention when Law & Order disappeared, and a newscaster in a smart blue suit appeared with the words "Breaking News" on the television.
She held a microphone to her face and gestured to the scene behind her—a fenced-off area heavily guarded by military personnel. "The CDC has set up a quarantine zone in the middle of the city to investigate a rash of disturbing behavior in youth everywhere. They have refused all requests for comments, and in a formal statement, denied any connection between the outbreak and a new street drug known as "Blue Power," which has many worried about distressing side effects, including death and unusual abilities. Though the CDC denies the connection, our sources confirmed that any known user of the drug is being held in quarantine. Could this be the start of chemical warfare? Many people are asking that very question."
Toby. That has to be where they're keeping him. Drake recognized the area, but had no idea how to break in and save the boy with so many armed guards, not to mention the fact that the Center for Disease Control had jumped into the fray. In fact, he needed rescuing himself.
Drake's shoulders slumped and his head fell into his hands. He'd officially hit rock bottom, and saw no hope of climbing out of the hole he'd thrown himself into. In that moment, he would have given anything to go back in time and change his path. He'd have stayed with Sam, powers or no. He'd have been there for her and their baby. He wouldn't have been such a coward and made her face all of it alone.
He wouldn't have run away.
Mr. Goatee came back and pulled out his keys. "You have a visitor."
Sam? No, couldn't be. How would she even know he was here? But then, how would anyone know he was here? Maybe Sam had found him somehow, after their connection. Maybe she could save him from himself once and for all, and he could be the man she needed.
Drake followed the guard to a small interrogation room. Reluctant hope surged when the door opened, then burst when the tall man sitting at the table stood and smiled. "Mr. Davis, it's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."
The man nodded, and Mr. Goatee left, which was highly unusual given Drake's status as a supposed psycho killer.
Dressed in a high-priced pinstripe suit, with dark hair and striking blue eyes, the man had an air about him, as if expecting obedience in all things. He gestured with a manicured hand. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss."
Drake couldn't imagine what the man wanted, but he sat, curiosity overcoming his disappointment at not seeing Sam. "Are you my lawyer?"
"Not your lawyer, per se, but I am here to help. I think we can do much for each other, if you're willing to engage in a symbiotic relationship, so to speak."
What the hell is this guy talking about? Something about the way the man moved—the graceful and fluid motion, the air of authority—tickled the back of Drake's mind. Also, the eyes.... Where have I seen those before? "Who are you?"
The man smiled coldly, devoid of all emotion. "The question isn't who am I, but who are you? Do you know how you came to be what you are?"
A veiled threat tinted the man's words, but it didn't scare Drake. It only made him more cautious. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, let's not play coy with each other. We have a history, even if we've never met in person. Do you not recognize me?" He closed his eyes and stayed so still he might have fallen asleep.
A low buzz filled Drake's mind, as though someone had broken in and started digging through his memories. The Seeker. Drake and the Seeker were brothers, spawned from the same mother. And Sam and the Seeker had shared a father....
Drake lurched to his feet, knocking his chair back. "Get out. Get out, now!" He lunged, intent on beating the man to death on the spot, consequences be damned, but an invisible force pushed him back.
"Come now, Drake. Did you really think I'd show up without some kind of protection? Now that you know who I am, shall we get down to business?"
Drake ground his teeth and shot daggers at the man across from him. "I will never make a deal with the devil who destroyed Sam's life."
Mr. Steele smiled his creepy smile again. "You might change your mind when you hear what I have to say." He pulled a vial of Blue Power from his jacket pocket and set it on the table between them, then sat back without saying anything.
Drake seethed with anger. Who is this asshole to come in here and treat me like some crackhead desperate for the next hit?
It won't work.
"I have more. More than you can even imagine. This is the street variety. It's meant to separate the wheat from the chaff, as the Bible would say. But this...." He pulled out a vial of purpl
e liquid. "This is the real deal. It lasts longer and is more powerful. You won't get the high you got with the blue version. You'll just get all of your powers back in full force. Isn't that what you want? To be powerful again? Think of what you could do with strength and mind control. Think of all that you could accomplish. No one could stop you."
"I'm not interested." A lie. He was interested. The drug pulled at him. He'd be whole and could finally protect Sam, but at what cost? "What do you want from me?"
He'd tried to make his voice sound aggressive and uncaring, but the shift in Steele's expression told Drake he'd failed. Steele knew he had set the hook.
"I need your help. We have a situation that requires your unique skills."
Drake crossed his arms over his chest and glared. "To do what?"
"Why, to help me recruit and collect other paranormals, of course. Someone with your abilities would have no trouble getting the job done."
Drake couldn't believe what he was hearing. Does this jackass really think that after everything he's done, I'll help him kidnap kids? "You're insane if you think I'd ever do that."
Steele shifted gears. "Do you know how you lost your powers?"
He nodded, but didn't speak.
"You think you do, but really, your unborn child absorbed them. They are trapped in her. I can help you get them back for good."
Go anywhere near my daughter, and I'll kill you. "Not interested."
"I can get you out of here, Drake. How else would you save your little friend? You have nothing, and you know it. I can give you power, money and freedom. I can even give you Toby. All you have to do is help me."
Shit. He couldn't do this. He couldn't choose between one child's life and hundreds.
Drake shook his head. "Still not interested." He expected to see Steele show some signs of frustration at not being able to gain the upper hand, but the man remained cool and calm—almost gloating.
"Very well. If I can't entice you, perhaps I can coerce you. There's one more thing you don't know, and I think it will be the tipping point for you."
Steele pulled out his phone, punched some buttons on a screen, and held out a picture.
Drake's heart stopped. He screamed in anger and thrashed at the shields holding him away from Steele.
The man just sat there, victory in his eyes. "When you've finished, we'll talk about what you can do for me."
Chapter 83 – Sam
Sirens blared. Darren held me as my shoulders shook and tears streamed down my face. I couldn't pull my hands off of Mrs. Beaumont's body, but I had to find out what happened to Tommy. She'd shown me the faces of the men who'd taken him. I planned to draw them and make everyone memorize the pictures—and then we would hunt them down, kill them, and get Tommy back.
The paramedics and police arrived, and Darren fielded their questions, but they still insisted on speaking to me. One man draped a blanket over my shoulders and pried me away from Mrs. Beaumont. "Come on, we need to put her on a stretcher."
Darren took over, leading me to the tail of an ambulance while a cop prepared to take my statement. I told him a creative version of the truth: they were friends, coming to visit. When they didn't arrive in time, I got worried and came looking for them. We arrived and found her here, dying.
"Did she say anything about who did this, or where her son is?"
What could I say? The medical report would show she couldn't speak at the time of her death. "No, she didn't speak at all."
"Do you know anyone who wished her or her son harm?"
Other than a psychotic paranormal human trafficking ring led by my sadistic father? "No. Her husband was arrested not too long ago for pedophilia. I doubt he's involved, but that's the only scandal I know about in their family."
The officer nodded and took notes. "Thank you, Sam." He handed me his card. "If you can think of anything else, please call."
"Who will be handling her... remains?"
"We'll attempt to contact next of kin or her attorney. I'll be in touch as we have more information."
He turned away, dismissing me, but I didn't know what to do. Should we just leave?
Darren thought so. He ushered me to the car and buckled me up, and we headed for home.
An emptiness filled me, making me numb to the small nagging at the back of my mind. I couldn't think past getting home, cleaning this blood off me, and finding Tommy. I pressed myself into the vastness beyond my own body and reached for him, but his mental signature only flickered, then blinked out. I couldn't hold onto it long enough to track it.
Again that emptiness goaded me. What had I missed?
We arrived home, parked and walked into the mansion. A lifetime had passed since we'd left, and still the house slept. Susie sat in the kitchen, waiting for us. She saw my face, saw the blood, and tears flowed down her cheeks.
She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. "Did she wake up?" I needed to hold my child.
"Not a sound." She handed the baby monitor to me and squeezed my hand, honoring my unspoken request for silence.
I nodded and walked down the hall toward my room. What must it do to a mother, to watch her only child be kidnapped while she lies helpless, dying? The thought chilled me, and in one horrible moment I realized what I'd been missing. Ana. The soft but familiar buzz of her mind in mine, the constant presence that alerted me to her moods and needs—it was gone.
I broke into a sprint, fear filling me as I slammed open the door to my room and flicked on the light.
She should've cried, squealed with indignation at the bright light that woke her, but she didn't make a sound. I reached into her crib, pulled out the bundle inside, and held a pile of blankets shaped to look like a child.
I shook my head, staring at the blankets in my hands, now stained with Mrs. Beaumont's blood. "No. No. No!" My frantic search of the room revealed two things: her diaper bag was missing, and someone had turned off the baby monitor in her room.
"Susie! Darren!" My screams filled the mansion. I tore through the minds of everyone in the building, searching for guilt, for answers. "Where is Ana?"
I fell to my knees, sobbing, realization hitting me in the gut. Ana's kidnapping had been planned. Mrs. Beaumont had tried to tell me. She'd heard them talking. They took Tommy so I would leave the mansion, so I would leave Ana.
And now, my daughter's life was in danger.
Chapter 84 – Drake
The emptiness in Drake grew as he realized what his life was about to become. Steele had his daughter. How did that happen? Where was Sam?
"Your daughter is safe, for now, but only if you do what I ask. Are we clear?" Steele's lips peeled back in a wicked smile. "As a token of my generosity, I'm still going to give you the other things you want. You'll get the drugs and your freedom—I'll even let you have Toby—but you have to break into that quarantine and free any paranormals who are healthy and showing signs of powers. Free them, and nothing will happen to your baby... for a while."
Drake nodded. What else could he do? He couldn't let Steele hurt Ana, and he couldn't stop the bastard if he was stuck in jail. Maybe if he played along he could get close enough to Steele to find a way to defeat him.
"How do I know you're telling the truth? That could be a picture of any baby." Drake clung to this last line of hope, knowing it would likely drown him in the end. Steele didn't seem the type to use false threats.
The two vials of drugs, one blue, one purple, still sat in the center of the table. Steele nodded. "Take one. Connect with Sam. Find out for yourself if what I say is true."
Sam. Oh God, she has to be going crazy. Why didn't Steele take her too? Drake grabbed the purple vial and hoped Steele hadn't lied when he said it wouldn't make him high. He needed to stay in control right now.
He poured the liquid down his throat and waited. Within moments, fire raced through his muscles. The room brightened and dimmed, and awareness exploded in his head. He felt the base of his power grow—all his strength and abilities.
He drew on his mind control and pushed into Steele's mind with every ounce of strength, but an impenetrable wall blocked him.
"Of course, your powers won't work on me. Only a fool would come here and make himself vulnerable in that way. But rest assured, they do work."
Drake searched for the familiar imprint of Sam's mind, scared of what he would find when he did.
'Sam?'
Her grief slammed into him through the connection—Steele hadn't lied.
"Drake, it was you before, wasn't it? This is real? How?"
'A drug. It's a long story. What's happened?'
"He has her. My father somehow got to Ana. I'm so sorry. I thought she was safe. Oh, Drake, what are we going to do?"
'He's using the baby against me, Sam. I'm the one who's sorry. I abandoned you because I was weak. But I swear, I will get her back and I will destroy this man once and for all.'
"I need you, Drake. I need to get Ana back."
'I'll find a way to get to you, Sam. Wait for me. I'm coming.'
The connection faded, and Drake looked at Steele. "Fine. I'm in. But first, get me the hell out of here."
Steele grinned, shaking his head just a fraction.
Drake hoped the man couldn't read minds like his daughter.
Part Two – The Different Names of Love
Chapter 85 – Lucy
"Lucy, wake up! Lucy!"
That voice. She knew that voice.
"Lucy!"
The same voice had warned her when Luke was in danger. Her eyes popped open and the voice stopped. Sunlight blinded her briefly, and as her vision returned, she wiggled and stretched each body part to assess the damage, surprised even to be alive. Her entire body ached as though a truck had run into her—repeatedly—but everything seemed to work as it should. She pulled herself up, abs screaming at the effort, and blinked to clear her vision.
Maybe I have died and gone to paradise. Lush green trees dipped into a crystal blue lake. Flowers like she'd never seen grew around the edge, absorbing the water and sun. She plucked one and examined it—a bright, bluish-purple blossom shaped like a star, with silver glitter in its petals. It smelled like rain. Another flower transitioned through all the colors of the rainbow and was shaped like a heart. If she hadn't been in so much pain, she'd have thought she was dreaming.
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