Hidden Currents

by Christine Feehan

  Damn it, Elle, pull back, we'll make it.

  I can't do that. You know I can't, not when both of you are in danger. Don't fight me, Jackson. Because she couldn't survive without him. She didn't say it to him, not even telepathically, but she knew he felt it, because he immediately stopped all resistance and let her flow easily into his mind.

  I'm trying to get her to stay calm. She can't panic. Have her swim parallel to the shore.

  She can't. She's already exhausted, drained of all energy by the healing she performed, and trying to move her arms and legs is impossible. Elle made certain to keep her voice very calm, not wanting him to feel the pain lashing through her head. She moved outside and headed swiftly to the beach.

  Tell her to turn over and float for me.

  Elle pushed the command into Hannah's sluggish mind. Hannah tried, but something was wrapped tightly around her leg and arm, refusing to let her go. For a moment the image of a monster octopus was in Hannah's head.

  It's the kelp, Elle told him. Now she was on her knees in the sand, holding her head. The kelp has her trapped. You'll have to free her, Jackson. She tasted blood in her mouth and her eyes stung as her vision blurred. She wiped at them and her fingers came away stained with blood.

  She waited for what seemed like forever, feeling Jackson's mind, the icy invasion, slowly creeping into his brain, slowing his thoughts and reflexes. She couldn't keep both of them going, so she had to help Hannah, so much weaker than Jackson, although everything in her reached for him. It felt dark and cold and lonely where he was and she could feel his lungs burning. At last he seemed to reach for air.

  Tell her we'll be fine, to swim parallel to the shore. Tell her not to look at the beach, to just keep swimming.

  With a sinking heart, Elle realized Hannah couldn't possibly swim. She had already slipped from the first stage of shaking uncontrollably to a much deeper sleep state. Her mind had slowed way down and the continual shivering had nearly ceased, a bad sign as the shivering was the body's way of trying to keep her temperature up.

  She can't swim, Jackson, she's too far gone. There was despair in her voice. I'm coming for you in the dory.

  No! You're not strong enough, Elle. You couldn't get either of us in the boat. Jonas will come. You know he'll come.

  Even in her mind, Jackson's words slurred, but he was still holding Hannah to him. She did the only thing she could think to do, send him and Hannah as much warmth as possible.

  Bomber went into a frenzy of barking as first Jonas's sheriff car and then Ilya's truck, nearly bumper to bumper, slid around the corner of the yard. The dog nearly went insane, snarling and barking as the two men bailed out, running past Elle for the shore. It took Elle a couple of minutes to remember to give him the dismiss command, stopping the dog from barking and adding to the chaos of the moment. Ilya stopped to lean over Joley, who waved a feeble hand toward the fog bank. Jonas actually leapt over Sarah's body sprawled in the sand as he made for the small double-ended Oregon dory Jackson kept aground on the higher dune.

  The dory was hitched to an old four-wheel-drive truck Jackson kept only for the purpose of launching the boat into the surf. He yanked open the door and started the truck immediately, not waiting for Ilya as he drove backward into the waves. He was grateful that Jackson always had his equipment in top running order. Leaping from the truck he released the boat and Ilya jumped into the driver's seat to pull away from the boat.

  "Hurry, Jonas, I can't keep them safe much longer," Elle called. Blood streamed down her face like tears. It matted in the hair near her ears and she could taste it in her mouth.

  "Hold them, Elle," Jonas commanded. "Don't you let Hannah die."

  The surf caught at the dory as Jonas primed the pump with three pulls before he ripped at the cord to start the engine. Cursing when it didn't start the first time, it caught the second, roaring to life just as Ilya flung himself into the boat. Jonas turned the throttle and the dory reacted fast, cleaving through the surf out toward the sea where he knew Hannah was barely holding on. He could feel her in his mind, her thoughts sluggish, her body freezing.

  Although pregnant, Hannah was thin and not far along. She couldn't last long in the cold water without much body fat. It was only Elle, sending her warmth, trying to keep Hannah's body temperature up that was giving them the few extra minutes needed.

  Jackson, Ilya and Jonas are coming for you. Hannah, just float. I know you're cold, but Jonas is coming in the boat. Hang on a little longer. Elle's brain felt as if it were shredding from the inside out. She could barely breathe through the pain. She went down to one knee and ducked her head low to try to gulp air when she was dizzy and near fainting.

  Bomber lunged at something and she caught sight of her sister Sarah, crawling toward her up the path. She hissed the command to disengage, remembered she needed to speak the command in Russian and repeated it, still breathing deep, fighting waves of dizziness.

  Jonas opened the dory full throttle and took them out to sea, straight into the unnatural fog bank. Elle. Give me a direction. Hannah's too far gone and I can't reach her.

  Jonas felt the sudden impact as the rest of the sisters joined what strength they had left to feed Elle so she could reach Jackson. It was a shaky bridge at best. He felt Jackson's direction more than getting an actual signal from him. But it didn't matter, he took the dory over the surf, slicing through the waves and the heavy fog in a straight line to them. Jonas prayed that Jackson had Hannah, as he couldn't feel her in his mind at all.

  Slowing the boat when he knew he was getting close, he chugged along, trying not to panic, his gaze frantically searching the sea. A hand came up out of the water to the right of their position and his heart nearly exploded in his chest. Through the choppy water and the heavy veil of fog, he could just make out Hannah's body stretched out on top of the water with Jackson's arm hooked around her neck, holding her to him. Jackson shivered uncontrollably, but he kicked strongly to keep them from going under.

  Ilya knelt up in the boat as Jonas pulled alongside them. Jackson tried to help Ilya pull Hannah into the dory, but his movements were slow and clumsy.

  "I'll get her," Ilya said, his voice tight with apprehension.

  Hannah was ice cold as Ilya hauled her into the boat. He took the time to throw his jacket over her and then reached back to get Jackson. The man weighed a lot more than Hannah, and his body was almost dead weight. Jackson set his jaw and looked up at Ilya, nodding to indicate he was ready and as Ilya heaved him out of the water, Jackson surged upward to give himself the momentum to get into the boat.

  Jackson sprawled on the bottom of the boat, shivering, teeth chattering, his brain refusing to work. Jonas switched places with Ilya, stripping off his shirt, covering Hannah's body with his own, rubbing her arms and talking to her in a voice raw with love.

  "Hold on, Jackson," Ilya said. "We'll get you warm."

  Jackson couldn't answer, but he held on to Elle, afraid to pull out of her mind, afraid of letting go of her in much the same way he was certain Jonas was afraid to let go of Hannah. In spite of the icy cold, and the way his brain cells refused to function properly, he could still feel her pain, like a thousand needles piercing his skull.

  Elle, baby. Hold on for me. Just hold on for me. He was more afraid for her than he was for himself. He was still shaking, shivering, his teeth chattering, which meant he was still functioning, but Elle was fading away from him, as if she might be passing out.

  Ilya ran the dory right onto the beach and leapt out, reaching to help Jonas with Hannah. They ran her up to the house, where Jonas stripped her clothes off and covered her with blankets. He tore through Jackson's kitchen to find plastic bottles, filling two from the hot kettle and wrapping them in towels to put under Hannah's arms and a third on her stomach. Jonas covered her head with another blanket and cranked up the heat.

  "I'm making you tea, honey, stay there for me," he encouraged.

  Hannah shivered uncontrollably, a good sign that
her body was reversing the process of hypothermia, a very dangerous condition, but Jonas was taking no chances, and he caught up the phone and demanded an ambulance. Hannah wasn't going to be happy with him, but it didn't matter; she was going to the hospital.

  Ilya stumbled in, bent double with Jackson leaning on him, barely able to walk. "I'll strip him," he told Jonas. "You get Elle, she's covered in blood," Ilya continued, "and then help me bring the others inside. That fog bank is moving this way and it feels wrong to me. The dog is becoming more and more agitated as it looks out toward the sea. Bomber isn't like that, he doesn't spook easily."

  Jonas swore, took one last look at Hannah, obviously reluctant to leave her, and then he ran back outside to get Elle. Bomber went into attack mode when he approached.

  "Call him off, Elle," he snapped impatiently. She was on her knees, her head down, the tangle of red hair covering her face from where it had slipped from the loose knot. He saw her hand move, sliding into the dog's fur and she whispered to him, settling the dog in place so he gazed at Jonas happily. "Yeah, that's right, boy, you recognize me. I'm your friend. The one who lets you tear into me on occasion for great fun."

  He stepped past the dog and lifted Elle's slight weight into his arms. Immediately he smelled blood. "Let me look at you."

  Elle roused herself enough to respond. "Just get my sisters off the beach before the fog is all the way in." Something was in the fog, searching, seeking, and she knew that something was Stavros. It sounded insane. They'd think she was crazy if she told them, but she knew it in her heart. This was Stavros. Maybe she was creating a larger than life villain out of her fear of him and his absolute power, but she believed he could use the fog to look for her. After what had just happened to Hannah, she wasn't going to take any chances with her family.

  "Elle, look at me," Jonas insisted.

  "Trust me, Jonas, you don't want to look." Her voice croaked hoarsely.

  Every step Jonas took into the house jarred her. Jonas set her down beside Jackson and the sight of Jackson shivering uncontrollably beneath blankets, his face pale and his hair wet, smelling of the sea, set her heart pounding with fear. He could have killed you.

  Jackson's head came up alertly, his hand reaching unsteadily for her, brushing aside the mass of hair. He gasped when he saw her blood-streaked face. At once, his eyes glittered like two polished black diamonds. Stop using telepathy. You're burning yourself out and I'm damn well not allowing it. Stop it, Elle, or I pull out of your mind and disconnect right now.

  She gasped with the cruelty of his response. She had saved them, using everything she was and she hadn't been trying to burn herself out--not on purpose. Not to prevent Stavros from wanting her. She wouldn't do that. Jackson was thinking that way, a kind of psychic suicide, but she had been trying to help them--hadn't she? Elle covered her face with her hands, unable to look at him or Jonas and Ilya as they brought in Sarah and Joley and laid them in chairs.

  In the distance Elle heard the scream of a siren and knew the ambulance was on the way. Hannah wouldn't like it any more than Elle would have, but she was pregnant and no one, least of all Jonas, would ever take a chance with either of their lives. She made an effort to push herself to her feet, but was physically drained after the use of psychic energy, her arms and legs like lead. She forced herself to crawl across the floor out of the kitchen, not wanting anyone to see her so bloody and ravaged. The paramedics would insist on checking her out and she couldn't bear that.

  Jackson caught her ankle and held her. His fingers were icy cold and he was shaking nearly uncontrollably. She halted, not because he was stronger--his hands were gentle--but because he didn't want her out of his sight. One big advantage of having him wrapped so tightly in her mind was that she could feel his emotions as if they were her own.

  "Stay with me, baby. Get under the blanket and get me warm."

  He was so cold. Icy cold. Deep inside where his soul should be, he was icy. She rolled beneath the blanket and over the top of his body, aware of Jonas and Ilya bringing in Abbey and Libby. Jackson's arms went around her and held her tight against his naked form. "I didn't mean it, Elle. I'm sorry I said it."

  "I need you," she whispered against his ear, ashamed, aware of the ice cold of the wide expanse of skin covering hard muscle. "I've never needed anyone. I should choose you because I want to be with you, not because of a legacy, or because I was raped and beaten. I shouldn't need you so desperately."

  His arms tightened around her so hard he nearly drove the air from her lungs. "Do you think I don't know need? I need you, Elle, just to survive intact. You've known that from the beginning and it's part of what made you run. You knew I'd hold you too tight and the thought of a short leash was something you couldn't live with. I know need. Just let it be. Whatever it is between us, for now, let it be."

  The uncontrollable shaking was lessening and he was beginning to be more aware of his surroundings, of Bomber alerting to strangers outside in the yard, of Ilya depositing Sarah on the couch and covering her with a blanket.

  "Ilya," he called. "Get us into the other room before the circus starts."

  Ilya hesitated, glanced toward the paramedics rushing up the path and leaned down to help Elle and Jackson to their feet. He simply lifted Elle off her feet and half carried Jackson with his other arm, taking them to the bedroom.

  "You should let them examine you," Ilya cautioned Jackson. "Both of you. Elle's covered in blood."

  "You know it's a psychic bleed," Elle said. "What could they do other than give me a brain scan and tell us what we already know?"

  Ilya swore and put her on the bed, steadying Jackson with one arm. "You certain you're all right?"

  "Get us some tea," Jackson said, and collapsed next to Elle.

  Ilya covered him with blankets. "Your body heat will warm him faster than anything, Elle," he said. "I'll bring in hot water bottles as soon as possible as well as tea. Give me a minute."

  "Shut the door," Jackson called after him, signaling his dog to the bed. Bomber climbed up and lay against his side while Elle lay on top of him.

  "Thank you for saving Hannah."

  "There's never been a rip current there, Elle. Never."

  "I know." She nuzzled his throat. He smelled of the sea, a comforting scent in spite of the near tragic incident. "It was him. Stavros."

  His hand slid over her back to the nape of her neck, his fingers doing a slow massage as he turned her conclusions over in his mind. She was grateful he didn't just dismiss them as paranoid hysteria. She kept rubbing his arms and chest trying to warm him. Between her, the dog and the blankets, he was coming back fast. His mind had gone from sluggish to sharp almost before his body responded. She found she could breathe easier, some of the tension leaving her.

  "You think he attacked Hannah? How would he have found you so fast? It's possible, even probable, that he will find you, but not this fast. How could he?"

  "Bribe someone maybe?"

  "One of our team? I doubt it. It could happen, but it's doubtful."

  There was speculation in his voice and she could feel his mind working quickly, processing and discarding names of the men who'd aided them. All good friends. All men he'd gone into combat with. Men he had risked his life for many times. "Maybe," he repeated, but this time she felt the doubt in his mind.

  Elle didn't say anything, but her body shuddered, just once. She doubted if he could feel it with all the shivering his body was doing, but his fingers continued that soothing, rhythmic massage.

  "Maybe it was something else altogether, Elle. Maybe we're giving him too much credit."

  "Maybe." She knew better, but whatever. She wasn't going to argue with him. She'd felt Stavros's fingers on her throat again, heard his voice, that soft monotone that never changed, not when he was hitting her with his fist, or carving up her body with a whip, beating her with a cane, and not when he was being gentle, his hands and mouth roaming over her as if he owned her. A sob escaped before she could supp
ress it.

  "Kiss me."

  "I can't."

  "Look at me, Elle." He waited until her gaze met his. There was shame. Pain. Humiliation. Panic. Most of all a deep sorrow for everything she'd lost.

  "Kiss me. Feel me. He's not here with us. I won't let him be. He's a monster that took you and you had no choice but to give in to him . . ."

  "No! I should have fought more. I should have done something. I'm trained, damn it. I've been trained in martial arts, in weapons. I have a hell of a psychic talent. It shouldn't have happened to me. How could I let him do those things to me?"

  "You tell me, baby. You tell me how, with all my training, with my psychic talent, with my strength and my ability with weapons, I fell into enemy hands and allowed them to do those things to me. Explain it then, because I don't understand."

  "You're such a bastard, Jackson. Why do you have to talk like that?" She tried to lay her head on his chest, wanting to hide.

  "You're fucking going to kiss me first, Elle. He's not standing between us. You understand me? I won't have him standing between us. You fought a good fight. You survived. That's what you were supposed to do. You survived."

  Her teeth sank into his shoulder and her tears burned against his skin. "I shouldn't have," she whispered. "I should have had the courage to end it and maybe him."

  His fingers tightened on her neck and he pulled her head back so he could stare into her tear-drenched eyes. "Don't you ever fucking think that, let alone say it. Would you want me to have died? Or Hannah? Or Abbey?"

  She shook her head. "But this is my fault--what happened today. I heard him. I heard his voice. He said he'd kill everyone I love if I don't come back to him."

  "You listen to me, Elle. He's the one who needs to be afraid, not you. You're not locked in by his psychic energy field. He doesn't have you trapped. You're strong and you're lethal. Your sisters are as well. Don't you dare sell any of them short. Hell, baby, your house makes people disappear. And we're not going to talk about me, but if that son of a bitch thinks he can take you from me, let him come and try. You're down, but you're not out. Do you understand me? Do you, Elle? Look at me. Don't turn away from me and pay lip service to what I'm saying. I'll kill the bastard for you right now. Say the word and I leave and go to work. It's what I'm best at anyway. There's nowhere he'll be safe and if you think I don't want to, you're very wrong. I dream about it, I think about it, day and night and none of what I do to him is pleasant or civilized. If you want to be scared of someone, you're scared of the wrong fucking man."