[Ganzfield 2] Adversary (28 page)

Ick
—who’d been changing me? At least the one I had on felt clean. I’d worry about the ramifications of such things later.

I tilted my face up his, searching his eyes for a flash of the soul within, the real Trevor, the part of him I loved the most. He seemed so maddeningly untouchable, like moonlight seeping through a window.

What good was I to him in this condition? I had nothing to offer him anymore. I wasn’t special—I wasn’t even normal. I felt damaged.

Defective.

A tear escaped my right eye, slipping down my cheek. Trevor’s invisible finger brushed it from me, holding it up—a magically floating, flat little disk of water that caught the light between us. Trevor looked into it as though he could see the future reflected within its shimmer.

“I don’t just love you, Maddie. I adore you. You are
everything
to me. Whatever happened, and whatever happens from now on, we’ll make it work, okay?” His voice caught. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world. I get a second chance to be with you.”

My heart felt like it was about to burst. I sniffed, unsuccessfully trying to stop crying. He kissed me tenderly, kissed my cheeks, my eyes. Kissed my tears away. Kissed the fear and the pain away. Finally, I was able to stop the shuddering sobs. I sniffled back into tenuous control of myself.

He pulled back to look at me—a devious twinkle lit his eyes. “It’s okay if you never talk again, you know. You can just sit there and look pretty.”

My eyes narrowed at the thought.

Trevor let out a quick laugh. “See? You hate that! I get you! I am attuned to your every mood.”

I scowled. Was he
trying
to piss me off? Did he think that’d break me out of my little self-pity wallow?

“And now you’re wondering if I’m trying to make you mad on purpose.”

My lips twitched into a smile. I had to give him credit—Trevor knew how to read me. He still knew me, even without our mental connection. I felt my little funk begin to dissipate. It would be okay. Whatever happened, it would be okay. That’s what Trevor was trying to show me. I felt my love for him fill me, or maybe it was his love for me. I looked into his eyes, grateful to whatever Higher Power had created this incredible man and put him in my life.

“I love you, too.” Trevor lifted my chin to give me a tender kiss.

*   *   *

The first tendrils of connection to Trevor’s mind sent a cool sense of relief through me. I could feel him there, breaking through the mental silence that had enveloped me. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. It felt as though my soul was unfurling. I suddenly felt…healthier.

Trevor?

I tried to concentrate—to project clearly. What if all I could send him was confused thoughts and random sounds? He didn’t hear me, but a second world slowly came into focus around me. I could feel Trevor’s presence—and his emotional turmoil. He was trying to put on a brave face to boost my spirits, but under his joy and relief, his thoughts thrashed with fear and anger and grief and a bone-numbing exhaustion.

I snuggled closer, stroking his face and hair, trying to pull the anguish from him as I waited for my ability to return more fully.
How long was this going to take?

“It’s only been twenty minutes,” said Trevor, glancing at the clock by my bed.

The spike of joy hit us simultaneously. My
you heard that?
collided with his “Did you just ask how long this would take?”

You can hear me again? I’m not just sending gibberish into your head?

Trevor kissed me.
No gibberish.

I’m so sorry I put you through this.

Trevor pulled away, a grey cloud of accusation filling his mind.
Why did you lie to me? You broke your word.

Cold shock splashed through me. Trevor thought I’d taken off on my own little mission as soon as he and the others had gone in after the healers. He thought I’d planned it—and that I’d intended all along to break my word to him. He was feeling six different kinds of stupid for trusting me; for being too weak to leave for the past nine days; for sleeping in the yard like a dog, waiting for me to wake up.

I heard Matilda tell you that Isaiah was a charm and an RV and was about to send people out to kill us all. Didn’t Sean tell you?

Sean’s dead.

WHAT?
I felt as though he’d slapped me.
Oh, my God. What happened?
Was it my fault? Had I been too late? Had Isaiah already sent killers after them? Were those the shots I’d heard through Isaiah’s thoughts? Oh, poor Rachel. She’d been through so much; why did this have to happen, too? My empty stomach heaved sickly.

Something shifted in Trevor’s mind as he realized I hadn’t lied to him. A piece of his inner goodness—and his faith in me—seemed to re-inflate within him. How had he lived with all of these horrible thoughts and doubts for so many days?

You know I can’t lie to you, right?
I asked.

You can’t?

Well, I could tell you something that wasn’t true, but I think you’d hear the truth in my mind, anyway. I suppose I could shield while I did it, but that would be a giveaway, too.

Really?

You accidentally pushed me in your sleep and broke my leg. I would’ve lied to you about that if I could’ve.

A hot sting of guilt shadowed his thoughts.

And we’d both be dead now if I hadn’t needed the MRI, right? No more guilt! That accident probably saved both our lives! I only brought it up to make the I-can’t-lie-to-you point!

Okay. So you decided to go after Isaiah alone after you heard what Matilda said. Why didn’t you wait for me?

You can’t shield. I was the only one who could get close—the only one he couldn’t hear coming.

You were trying to save us.
It was so much better than the torturous doubts that had been gnawing at him for so long. He’d wondered if Dr. Williamson had turned me into an assassin—had warped me to fill his own overpowering need to destroy Isaiah. Trevor had even considered the possibility that my love for him had all been an act—that I’d just been using him to get close enough to fulfill my mission. He’d been down some dark mental roads, alone with his own thoughts and insecurities for more than a week. I nearly started crying again. The pain Trevor had gone through was truly awful.

I reached up to stroke his face—to comfort him and take that pain away. I felt it retracting its talons from his soul. A knot of guilt lumped in my throat as the miserable realization hit me.
I’ve failed you.

What?

If you didn’t know—if I haven’t shown you how much I love you...
I was mangling this. How could I tell him?
I need to do better—so you’ll always know how much I love you. I don’t ever want you to doubt that again.

Trevor kissed me and I felt his insecurities shrivel away. I wanted to make sure they never had a chance to take root again.

I couldn’t let you go. I just couldn’t.

What happened?

Trevor showed me his memories, the ones he’d been going over and over for the past nine days—his own personal footage reel from hell. He’d carried Morris back to the wall and lifted everyone over. When he’d jumped over himself, though, he’d discovered I was gone.

“She went after Isaiah,” Sean had said.

Trevor’s world had tilted with sickening dread.
Oh, my God. I have to stop her! Is it too late?
Trevor vaulted back over the wall and ran full out toward the mansion, using his ability to push himself faster. Two security people saw him moving with supernatural speed and opened fire. Trevor caught the bullets and kept running.
Find Maddie! Save her!
He hurtled through the open front door and wove through the silent crowd, looking around wildly for me.

The motionless people faded to inconsequence when he saw my crumpled body on the floor, shaking with effort just to stay conscious. He’d seen the man coming toward me, moving with the stalking gait of a predator closing in on its kill. Trevor had leapt at Isaiah, slamming his invisible arms desperately into him.

I remembered half-seeing Isaiah flying as I’d lost consciousness. I’d thought that it’d been part of the whole “the-world-stops-making-sense-as-I’m-dying” thing.

Now I knew that Trevor had run into a house full of Sons of Adam members and a killer telepath. He’d sent Isaiah hurtling though a plate glass window and out into the lake. He’d done this—this suicidally desperate thing—to rescue me. I felt his remembered terror and horror at seeing me motionless on the floor with blood leaking from my ears and nose.

Oh, no, no, no. Too late. Is she dead? She can’t be dead. I was too slow. Too slow! I’ve lost her. She’s gone. Please, God, no! She can’t be gone.

Trevor had scooped me up and carried me out of the house, through the crowd of eerily frozen people. He’d reached the main road ahead of the van. Drew had pulled to a stop with a squeal of tires. The door had slid open and Trevor had frozen. Blood and grey matter had dripped off the bench from Sean’s head wound. Rachel had clutched his limp hand, keening and rocking in her grief. Hannah and Matilda still’d tended him, but their faces had showed they had no real hope. Sean was gone from the moment he’d popped his head over the wall to see who was shooting at Trevor. The bullet had gone in through his forehead, smashing a fist-sized chunk out of the back of his skull. Blood had darkened his red hair nearly black around the wound. Trevor’s guilt splashed sickly-green between us.
If he hadn’t been checking on me, it wouldn’t have happened.

The wounded and dead had overcrowded the van. Morris had lain unconscious across the second seat. I’d taken up the third as Matilda and Hannah had worked over me in the swaying vehicle.

Trevor had watched as the healers worked, feeling overpowering, helpless grief. Every comment they’d exchanged about the damage to the different parts of my brain had burned into his thoughts like a brand.

A bad bleed in my right motor cortex—that explained the problem with my left leg. Other bleeds, localized seizures, and a dead zone—an area seared away in the expressive language center of my left hemisphere—Broca’s area. They didn’t know how to fix that; there was nothing left to heal. The cells in the entire region were completely dead…and brain cells don’t regenerate.

They’d been able to halt the bleeding before it’d drowned my neurons. At one point my heart had stopped, and Trevor had felt like his own heart was being ripped from his chest as Matilda had used her ability to shock it back into rhythm. Their work had continued back to my mom’s house. Trevor had stayed at my side, feeling powerless and angry and so, so alone.

He’d witnessed my mother’s horrified reaction as he’d carried my unconscious body into the house. She’d sat down heavily as she’d taken in the blood on everyone’s clothing and the grief on their faces.

Matilda had talked her out of taking me to a hospital. “They can’t do much for injuries like hers.”

“And you can?” Tear streaks had lined my mother’s cheeks but her face had blazed with maternal protectiveness.

Matilda had looked at her with compassionate eyes. “I think we’re her best chance.”

Trevor’s anguish had squeezed his heart.
If there was really much hope for Maddie, Matilda would’ve said something more positive—more comforting.

I choked up again, covering my mouth with my hand. Dammit, I’d caused him so much pain.

I saw his next few days—barely eating, reluctantly leaving me only when he could no longer stay awake, knowing he could bring the roof down on me if he fell asleep at my bedside. Trevor and my mom had kept vigil on either side of me. At first, they’d endured an awkward silence. Eventually, my mom had started to talk, sharing her memories of me—stories from my childhood. Trevor had listened intently, as though each word gave him a tiny connection back to me. Talking about me was their way of keeping me alive.

*   *   *

My mom rushed home just before lunchtime, as soon as she got Hannah’s voicemail message. She’d been in session with a client when Hannah had called. Her excitement and relief reached me before she’d even parked.

My mom’s here.

Trevor discreetly moved back to the chair next to my bed. He’d made good progress in his relationship with my mother, but that progress would almost certainly be derailed if she came home and found him in bed with her underage daughter.

My mom seemed to fly up the stairs, but she stopped still as soon as she saw me. Drops of cold rain clung to her hair and shoulders; she hadn’t bothered with an umbrella. Both hands flew up to cover her mouth, as though to hold in the overwhelming emotions.