Chapter Twenty-One
Aidan swore.
“Damn it, Zach,” Seth growled behind Aidan.
“What?” Zach protested, all innocence. “I did it for Aidan.”
Dozens of skeptical looks stabbed him.
“Okay, okay. I did it for Lisette. Ethan is important to her. Aidan is important to Ethan. And we all know how much Dana means to Aidan.” He looked down at his wife. “So by the transitive property, I did it for you. This is your fault.”
When Lisette opened her mouth to rebut, David held up a hand. “What exactly did you do, Zach?”
He shrugged. “Like Seth, I thought Dana remained a prime target for Gershom and decided to take steps that I believed would protect her to some extent.”
Aidan drew in a breath to start shouting as outrage rose within him like lava.
Zach stopped him with a look. “I knew she had lived a typically sheltered mortal life and, without her 9mm, wouldn’t know how to defend herself, so…” He frowned. “How can I explain this? I basically planted a how-to-kick-ass manual in her head.”
Blank stares.
“What the hell does that mean?” Aidan demanded.
“It means,” Zach told him, “that when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, she now knows how to do everything I can do. Everything that doesn’t require gifts, that is.”
Stunned silence.
Sheldon’s lips turned up in a big grin. “That is so cool! It’s just like with Neo in The Matrix.”
Aidan shook his head. “I don’t know what the hell The Matrix is, but this is not cool. She’s mortal, Zach. Mind control causes brain damage her body can’t heal without the virus.”
Chris grunted. “You weren’t so concerned about that when you mind-controlled my people here at the network.”
Aidan slammed his fist down on the table, nearly exploding with fury. “Would you fucking let that drop?” he roared. “The mind control I performed on the guards here took less than a minute. They suffered no more damage than they would have drinking and partying on a Friday night.” He turned on Zach. “How long did it take you to plant all that information in Dana’s mind?”
Zach glanced over Aidan’s shoulder at Seth. “Quite a while, actually.”
This just got worse and worse by the minute. “How much damage did it do? Were you even able to heal it?”
“Did you notice any difference in her behavior?” Zach asked in lieu of answering.
Bastien clamped a hand on Aidan’s arm when Aidan would have risen.
David looked at Zach. “When did you do this, Zach?”
“Yesterday,” Zach said, “while everyone was sleeping at your place. I stayed awake to keep an eye out for Gershom and thought I would take advantage of the opportunity and give Dana the know-how she’d need to survive whatever came.” He met Aidan’s irate gaze. “Did you notice any difference in her?”
He hadn’t. He hadn’t noticed any difference at all. “No.”
Zach nodded. “There was damage when I finished, but I healed most of it.”
“Most?” Aidan repeated. “Not all?”
Zach shook his head. “I couldn’t get it all. The damage that remains is similar to that one would have after a concussion. And I feel confident the virus will heal it when she transforms.”
Numbness began to seep in. Gershom had Dana and Dana had brain damage.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Zach said.
“I doubt you do.”
“I don’t have to read your thoughts to know what they contain. I know you’re now worried on two fronts, and I regret adding to your concern. You may think it was ruthless or irresponsible or however you choose to label it, but if you could just look at it without emotion clouding your judgment, you will see that this is a good thing. Dana is now armed with knowledge and skills that will enable her to defeat those guarding her should they try to harm her. She could even make an escape.”
Aidan shook his head. “The other gifted ones who tried to escape were killed.”
“But Dana won’t be. She’s now like those rough-and-tough marines or SEAL team soldiers in the movies Lisette and Tracy love so much. You know, the ones who go in against all odds, disarm dozens of armed combatants that grossly outnumber them, kick ass, and emerge with only a few scratches. Dana can now, with no forethought, disarm a man twice her size. If there is anything in the room with her that can be used as a weapon, she will find it.”
Aidan supposed he could take some comfort in that.
“Well,” Chris said, “hopefully it won’t come to that. We should be able to formulate a plan, implement it, and get to her in the next twenty-four hours.”
Aidan found that hard to believe. “How the hell can we blitz a United States military installation?”
General Lane frowned. “You can’t. Can you?”
Chris shook his head. “I don’t think that would be the wise play here, in part because we would risk Gershom popping in the instant the first alarm sounded and killing all the gifted ones to spite Seth.”
More cursing.
Roland folded his arms across his chest. “I say we take a page from Gershom’s book and have Seth, Zach, and Aidan do a little mind-controlling on the masses in that building. While we free the gifted ones, they can incarcerate the soldiers, then convince the scientists on site that they’re proctologists who have found the answers to all of life’s mysteries up the soldiers’ arses.”
Startled laughter erupted around the table.
Sheldon shook his head. “Dude, you have a serious mean streak.”
Roland shrugged. “I’ve just never favored blindly following orders.”
David grunted. “I can vouch for that.”
Roland’s lips twitched.
Jared, who had been leaning up against the wall beside the sofa, straightened. “Actually, Roland may be on to something.”
Aidan stared at him. “You think we should convince the scientists they’re proctologists?”
Jared gave his head an impatient shake. “No. I think we should do what Gershom always does—play the magician.”
Silence.
“Melanie,” Seth said, “Ethan could use some more blood.”
Aidan glanced over his shoulder as Seth stepped away from Ethan.
Melanie rose and left the room.
Heather’s face reflected both hope and fear. “Is he okay?”
Seth hesitated. “I’ve healed everything I can. I won’t know if that is enough—if the virus can heal that which is beyond me—until he awakens.”
Melanie dashed back in with two blood bags.
Heather stared at her husband’s prone form as Seth started down the length of the table.
Sheldon reached back, grabbed the arm of an empty chair, and sent it rolling down toward David’s end. Darnell caught it and scooted over to make room for Seth to sit beside David across from Zach.
Seth gave both Seconds a nod of thanks, then sank into the seat. His shoulders drooping with weariness, he looked up at Jared. “You think we should play the magician?”
Jared stepped forward. “Yes.”
Seth nodded. “Tell me more.”
“So she’s crazy?”
The male voice carried to Dana down what seemed like a dark, murky corridor.
“I don’t know,” another male responded.
Consciousness returned in tiny increments but lent her no memory of what had landed her… wherever she was.
She fought a frown, keeping her face expressionless as she listened to the murmured conversation and tried without success to pick out a familiar voice.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” a third male retorted. “You said her head is full of vampires.”
Where was she?
She lay on her back on a lumpy, uncomfortable surface. A bed or a cot?
The light behind her eyelids indicated the room was well lit. Not too clean though, based on the musty scents that tweaked her nose.
How had she come to be there? The last thing she remembered was…
Frustration seared her as she tried to recap events.
Oh shit. The last thing she remembered was watching Heather fall to her death. (Surely even an immortal couldn’t survive that much blood and brain splattering the ground.) Then Gershom had grabbed Dana by the throat and—
“Did you really see vampires in her memories?” the first man asked.
“Shut up,” the second man snapped. “I’m trying to concentrate.”
Were these Gershom’s henchmen? Had he handed her over to them while he went back to finish off Aidan, Ethan, and Heather?
Her throat thickened. Aidan.
Footsteps approached. “Is she even still alive?” the third man muttered.
Fingers touched her throat.
Dana’s eyes flew open.
A man loomed over her.
Grabbing his arm, she reared up and yanked him down at the same time.
Her forehead slammed into his face.
“Ah shit!” he sputtered as blood spurted from his broken nose.
Still holding his arm, she rolled out of bed. Her bare feet hit cold concrete as she looked around wildly.
Small room. Four bare cement walls. Two sets of bunk beds. A sink. A toilet. Fluorescent lights overhead. A heavy door with a small shuttered window like one might find in a prison’s solitary-confinement cell.
Two men leapt to their feet across the room.
Dana adjusted her hold on Bloody Nose Guy. Gripping his elbow and wrist, she applied pressure at strategic points.
The man grunted in pain and sank to his knees.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” the other men shouted as they lunged forward.
Dana freed one of her hands and yanked a plastic toothbrush off the sink. Clutching the handle tightly, she slammed the head against the porcelain edge and broke off the bristle end, leaving a jagged plastic point. She seized a fistful of Bloody Nose Guy’s wavy black hair and yanked his head back against her chest. Shoving the point of the broken toothbrush handle against his neck above his carotid artery, she shouted, “Stay back!”
Both men stopped short, eyes wide, mouths gaping.
Everyone went still, even the man Dana held captive.
“Easy,” one of the men facing her said. Though his voice was a little higher with anxiety, she recognized him as the second man she had heard speak. “Take it easy. We aren’t going to hurt you.”
She increased the pressure on Bloody Nose Guy’s neck. “You sure as hell aren’t.”
“Damn it, Phil,” the man on his knees grumbled. “Shut the fuck up.”
Everyone quieted.
Dana’s heart pounded in her ears. Her breath came in gasps as she glanced around, then down at the man she restrained.
He was tall, muscular and must be twice her weight. Yet she had taken him down in less than sixty seconds.
“How did I do that?” she whispered.
She didn’t know how to fight or turn a cheap plastic toothbrush into a weapon. About the only thing she knew to do when threatened was the old knee-to-the-groin trick. But she had just bloodied this guy’s nose and now held two others at bay.
“How the hell did I do that?” she whispered again.
“Ah crap,” the first man muttered. “She is crazy.”
“No, she isn’t,” Bloody Nose Guy said softly. “She’s just scared. Back away and give her a minute to acclimate.”
Phil and his companion backed away in unison and seated themselves on the lower of the bunk beds across the room.
A minute passed. Then another. Dana really had no idea what to do now.
The man she held cleared his throat. “So… help me out here, fellas. Am I supposed to find the fact that someone her size took me down so fast emasculating or a turn-on? Because I’m sorta goin’ both ways.”
Though she wouldn’t have thought it possible, she laughed. “You sound like…” Aidan.
Grief flooded her. Aidan would have fought to his last breath to keep Gershom from taking her. Was he…? Had Gershom killed him?
She swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “There was a man with me.”
“Aidan?” Phil asked somberly.
Hope rose. “You saw him? He’s here?”
He shook his head. “We haven’t seen him.”
She frowned. “Then how did you know his name?”
His mouth twisted with a faint grimace. “I read your mind.”
She studied him. “You’re a gifted one?”
The man on his knees cautiously tilted his head back to look up at her. “A what?”
“It’s what she and the others call us in her mind,” Phil said. “Gifted ones. I guess because of our special gifts,” he finished wryly.
It was only then that Dana realized all the men were dressed alike in gray jumpsuits and white socks.
She glanced down and found herself similarly garbed without the socks.
Releasing Bloody Nose Guy, she stepped back but kept a tight grip on the toothbrush just in case. “You’re the gifted ones who went missing?”
Bloody Nose Guy eased away from her on his knees, then swiveled around and sat on the floor. “I’m sure as hell not where I’m supposed to be.”
Recognition struck. “You’re the man who disappeared after you went to your father’s funeral.”
His brows lowered as he drew an arm across his mouth, wiping away some of the blood that stained his lips and chin. His nose bore a lump that hadn’t been present in his picture and began to swell as she stared at him. “How did you know that?”
“I saw your file.” She looked at the others. “You’re sure Aidan wasn’t brought in with me? He’s about this tall”—she held her hand high above her head—“muscular, and has a Scottish accent.”
Phil shook his head. “Sorry. The door was open long enough for them to dump you in here with us, but all I saw was a bunch of military grunts. I’m Phil, by the way.” He jerked a thumb at the man beside him. “This is Grant. And the long, tall Texan you took down is Rick.”
She nodded, trying hard not to weep as fear for Aidan pummeled her. “I’m Dana.” She motioned to Rick. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I saw you looming over me and thought…”
He smiled. “You thought we were the ones who took you.”
“Something like that.”
Phil took a step forward. “You keep mentioning Gershom. Or thinking his name, I mean. Who is he?”
A sudden impulse drove her to look up at the ceiling, at the corners, and around the small room.
“What is it?” Rick asked, following her gaze.
She lowered her voice. “Are there cameras? Are they watching us or listening to us?”
Grant shook his head. “I’ve gone over every centimeter of this damned cell, looking for a weak point or anything that would enable us to escape, and found no cameras or mics.”
Holding on to the toothbrush like a talisman, Dana returned to the bed upon which she had awoken and perched on the edge. “Gershom is the one who took us.”
Rick scowled. “Who is he? What does he want with us?”
She shook her head helplessly. “To use us as pawns.”
“I told you,” Phil declared with triumph. “I told you the military just views us as tools!”
Rick nodded somberly. “Yes, you did, Phil. And I totally agree. You are a tool.”
Grant laughed.
Dana would have, too, if they were anywhere but there. “What are your gifts?” she asked Grant and Rick.
Rick looped his arms around bent knees and linked his fingers. “I know this is going to sound corny sci-fi, but I’m an empath.”
“You felt my emotions when we touched?”
He nodded. “Including your grief. I’m sorry about your friend Aidan. Maybe this Gershom fucker didn’t kill him. Maybe Aidan survived.”
She nodded, unable to speak for a moment. When she could, she nodded to Grant. “And you? What’s your gift?”
His lips turned up in a self-deprecating smile. “I can find missing people.”
She stared. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Ironic, right?” His chuckle held no mirth. “I can locate a missing person if I touch an object they held shortly before their disappearance. I was looking for a woman from Fresno who had gone missing and ended up going missing myself.”
“That’s messed up,” Dana said.
“Yeah. It is.”
A strained silence engulfed them.
Rick eyed Dana curiously. “So, what’s the deal with the vampires in your head? Are you loco in la cabeza or what?”
She smiled. “I’m not crazy.”
Phil nodded. “I tried to tell him as much, but the things I saw in your memories are pretty hard to believe.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Are they as hard to believe as a telepath, an empath, a whatever-you-call-Grant and a psychic being kidnapped by the United States military?”
The men shared a look.
“Exactly,” she said.
Rick tilted his head to one side. “You’re psychic? You can see the future?”
Dana nodded. “When I touch someone and focus my gift, I get glimpses of their future. And sometimes of their past and present.”
Rick extended his hand. “Can you tell me if I’m going to get out of here alive?”
Dana hesitated, afraid of what she might see in Rick’s—in everyone’s—future. But it might help them find a way out of there.
Rising, she slipped the toothbrush up her sleeve, then moved closer and rested her right hand in Rick’s. His light brown eyes met and held hers as he curled his long fingers around hers.
Nothing happened. Nothing came to her.
Covering their clasped hands, Dana slowly rotated her left hand over his and slid it up his forearm to the bend of his elbow, which bore a Band-Aid. She drew her hand back to his wrist, then stroked his forearm again… and suddenly saw him kneeling over a soldier, tugging off the man’s military uniform.
Her eyes widened.
“What?” Rick asked.
The vision vanished.
Her lips turned up in a slow smile.
Rick’s did, too.
A thunk sounded.
They glanced at the door.
“Oh shit,” Phil muttered from across the cell. “They’re probably coming to take you to the lab.”
The door swung open. Two soldiers faced them, weapons raised and pointing at Dana and the others.
One soldier curled his lip at Rick. “What, are you fucking proposing?”
The second soldier motioned to Rick with the tip of his weapon. “Get up, back away, and turn to face the wall. The docs want to see her.”
Releasing her hand, Rick slowly rose and eased back toward the wall.
Phil and Grant stood, then did the same.
“Face the wall,” the second soldier repeated.
The three men faced the wall, exchanging glances.
The first soldier motioned to Dana with the tip of his weapon. “Now you. Up against the wall.”
Dana turned toward the wall. When she took a step, she faked a limp and stumbled to one side.
Soldier One jerked forward. “Hands in the air! Hands in the air!”
Rick spun around. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don’t shoot!”
Soldier One turned his weapon on Rick.
Phil, can you hear me? Dana thought.
Yeah.
Soldier Two kept his weapon trained on Dana.
She stumbled another step and reached out to grasp the edge of the sink, ostensibly for balance. Tell them I’m injured.
“She’s injured, damn it!” Rick shouted over Soldier One’s threats, catching on before Phil could come to her aid. “Cut her some fucking slack!”
Phil spun around, hands in the air. “Easy! Easy! She’s hurt! They fucked up her ankle when they brought her in!”
Rick jerked back when Soldier One advanced on them menacingly, still barking threats. “Okay! Okay!” he shouted back. “I just didn’t want you to shoot her, for fuck’s sake! I think she’s got a couple of broken ribs, too.”
Soldier Two took a step inside, eyeing the growing tension between Soldier One and the three male prisoners. “Face the wall!” he called. “All of you! Face the wall! Hands where we can see ’em!”
Dana took another limping step, sliding her hand over to cover the bar of soap as she leaned on the sink for support. Gripping the soap, she dropped her arm to her side and lunged for the wall.
A muffled thud sounded behind her.
Had Soldier One struck one of the guys?
She leaned against the wall, her weight on one leg, her hand tucking the soap in the folds of her too-big jumpsuit as she pretended to cradle sore ribs. When she looked around, Rick was glaring at Soldier One. Blood trailed from one temple.
“Please,” she said, infusing her voice with pain and weariness. “Don’t hurt them. I’ll do whatever you say.” Face the wall, she told Phil, but be ready to act.
He looked at the others.
Rick, Grant, and Phil turned to face the wall, hands raised to appease the guards.
“I realize you boys are just following orders,” Rick muttered, “but you don’t have to be dicks about it.”
Soldier One delivered a scathing, epithet-filled response, then backed up to Soldier Two. “Take care of the woman,” he growled, keeping his eyes and his weapon trained on the men.
Soldier Two lowered his weapon, letting it dangle in front of him by its sling. Approaching Dana, he drew out a zip tie. “Face the wall. Hands behind your back.”
She nodded, hissing in feigned pain as she faced the wall. “I might need your help walking,” she said softly, adding a tremor of fear to her voice. “I think my ankle is sprained.”
“Hands behind your back,” he repeated, cold as ice.
Dana straightened away from the wall, hopping a bit as though trying to find her balance, then gingerly lowered the toes of her injured foot to the floor. Giving her right arm a little shake, she slid the broken toothbrush handle down into her right palm.
“I told you she was hurt,” Rick grumbled.
“Shut the fuck up,” Soldier One snapped.
“Left hand first,” Soldier Two instructed, all business.
So much for engendering a little sympathy. Dana shifted her left arm as though to comply, then gripped the toothbrush handle with her right hand and drove it back. Hard.
Soldier Two howled as the plastic point buried itself in his thigh.
Spinning around, Dana threw the bar of soap, grabbed Soldier Two’s weapon and slammed it into his face as he bent forward.
When Soldier One cast a startled look over his shoulder, the bar of soap hit him in the temple like a rock. His head jerked as he staggered to the side.
Soldier Two swore and grabbed for his weapon. But Dana had already pulled the sling over his head. As she yanked it away, he swung at her.
Dana ducked the blow and came up strong, slamming the butt of the weapon into his cheek, then bending to kick out behind her. Her heel slammed into Soldier One’s jaw as he hastily regained his balance and turned to her.
Soldier One grunted as his head snapped back.
Dana remained in constant motion, swinging around and knocking Soldier Two’s sidearm out of his hand before he could finish drawing it from its holster.
Fury contorting his features, he swung at her.
She blocked the swing with the weapon she held, then slammed her forehead into his mouth. Pain careened through her head as she turned and ducked a swing from Soldier One. Then she was fighting them both, blocking hits and delivering kicks with an expertise she could not explain.
She flung Soldier Two’s weapon toward Rick, then deftly relieved Soldier One of his.
When Soldier One reached for his sidearm, Rick pressed the barrel of the automatic rifle to his temple.
“Don’t do it,” Rick growled.
Soldier Two lunged toward his discarded sidearm.
Dana reached it first and aimed it at his forehead. Her breath came in gasps. Her arms hurt, unaccustomed to the hits they had taken while blocking blows. And her heel throbbed.
“Holy crap,” Phil breathed as he stared at her with wide eyes. “Who the hell are you? That was like some shit you’d see in a Michael Bay movie.”
Quick as lightning, Dana slammed the butt of the gun into Soldier Two’s temple.
Knees buckling, the man sank to the floor, unconscious.
Rick followed her lead, knocking Soldier One unconscious. Crouching beside the fallen man, Rick set his weapon aside and started removing the man’s uniform.
Grant gaped at Dana. “How did you do that?”
Her heart racing, Dana shook her head. “I have no idea. Phil, how many guards do you usually see?”
He thought for a moment. “Two came to take me to the lab. And there were two more at the end of the hallway, guarding the door to the next section. There are more scattered beyond that, usually in pairs.”
She thought quickly. “You’re telepathic. Have you caught the names of the two at the end of the hallway?”
“They differ according to their shifts, but the two on duty now should be Edwards and Mitchell.” He quieted, looking to one side. “Yeah. It’s Edwards and Mitchell.”
Grant helped divest Soldier One of his boots and uniform.
Rick stood and tugged off his jumpsuit, revealing a trim, muscular body in white boxer shorts.
“If I can get you past those guards,” she said, “can you read enough minds to help me bullshit our way out the back door?”
“I’ll sure as hell try,” Phil vowed.
Gershom had eluded Seth and the Others thus far by remaining on the move. If he had left shortly after dropping Dana off, she wanted to be far away before he returned with his next victim. She had little hope that in the hours she had been gone, the Immortal Guardians had miraculously discovered where Gershom was holding the gifted ones. So it was up to her to find her way back to them.
Rick hastily pulled on Soldier One’s uniform. Grant started on Soldier Two’s.
Phil looked toward one wall. “The other guards are wondering what’s taking so long.”
Dana motioned to Grant. “Help him.”
As Grant donned the uniform, Dana and Rick transferred the discarded jumpsuits to the guards.
“The bed,” she whispered.
Rick folded Soldier One over his shoulder then dumped him on the bed so he lay with his back to the door.
“What the hell is taking so long?” a male shouted down the hallway.
She looked to Rick, who seemed to be the strongest of the group. “Call them.”
He nodded. “Hey, Edwards?” he yelled with a hint of uncertainty.
Dana took the automatic rifle from Phil and backed up to the wall on one side of the doorway.
Rick and Grant curled Soldier Two into a fetal position, then moved to stand over him with their backs to the door.
“What?” a man called back. “What’s the holdup?”
“I, uh,” Rick yelled in what Dana thought was a pretty good impression of Soldier One. “I think I might’ve fucked up. The woman fought me when I tried to restrain her, and I may have hit her too hard. I, uh… Shit, I think she’s dead.”
“Damn it, Cox!” the unseen man grumbled.
Phil backed up to the wall and put his hands behind his head, concealing the 9mm he held.
Footsteps clomped down the hallway, growing closer.
“What kind of asshat can’t restrain a ninety-five-pound woman?” a second voice groused. “You’re fucking armed!”
The light from the hallway dimmed as two more soldiers entered.
One swore when he saw “soldiers” Phil and Rick leaning over a prone figure on the floor, their heads down. “General Gershom is going to have our asses if—”
Dana knocked them unconscious so quickly they didn’t even have time to yelp in surprise. Kneeling beside them, she swiftly divested them of their weapons.
Phil stared at her. “I’m with Grant. Who the hell are you?”
Dana shook her head. “Hurry up and put his uniform on so we can get out of here.”