Chapter 17
I should have let it go. At the least, I should have been angry with Lewis and avoiding him. Instead, at 3 a.m. after tossing and turning, I found myself standing outside Lewis’s bedroom door. I lifted my fist to knock, only to hesitate. I’d never truly had a boyfriend, therefore never gotten into an argument. I felt unsure about how to proceed.
Before I could make a decision, the door opened and Lewis stood there. His eyes were intense, drilling. He wore only shorts, no shirt, and his hair was mussed. Although he wasn’t a body builder, he was cut; his muscles obvious.
I knew, standing there, that I had forgotten to cover my thoughts and I knew he heard me thinking about how gorgeous he was. But instead of putting up my wall, in some spiteful way, I found myself leaving it down, wanting to be honest, wanting to force him to be honest with me.
The house and hall were quiet as we stood there, not saying a word to each other. But we didn’t need to say much. I could tell by the stiffness of his body he was still angry with me. I was confused. I was hurt. I was a little afraid and I wanted him to know…to understand. I also wanted him to hold me because he looked good, really, really good and in this mansion, in this world, he was the only person I could turn to. Damn it all, I wanted him to pull me close; I wanted him to hold me. And he knew these thoughts and still he didn’t reach out, merely looked away. It broke my heart.
“Do you really want me to leave?” I hadn’t meant to say the words, to sound so pathetic and weak…the sort of girl I hated. But here I was, practically begging him with my sad puppy-dog face to say that he was still, possibly, in love with me. Frankly, I hated myself for it.
He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face as if he was tired. Tired of me? Tired of my questions? Or tired of the situation?
He reached out, latching onto my arm and pulled me into the room. Safely inside he closed the door. I fell back against the wall and he stepped toward me, pressing his body to mine, the side of his face to mine.
For a moment he just held me there. Our bodies intimately close, his warm breath tickling my ear. I wrapped my arms around his waist and soaked in his essence; felt the thump of his heart against mine. God, I didn’t want it to end. After a few moments, he stepped back, leaving me alone and cold. I curled my hands against my thighs, resisting the urge to latch onto him. He didn’t look at me, but stared at some point across the room.
“Well?” I finally demanded. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you want me to leave?”
He raked his hands through his hair and paced toward the large, Queen bed. “Of course not. I want you here, but I want you on my side.”
“It’s not about sides,” I insisted. “It’s about right and wrong.”
He spun around to face me. “Right and wrong?”
He was getting angry. I was just as frustrated, realizing he was too emotional to have a simple conversation. This isn’t what I’d wanted to accomplish by coming here. “How can you not understand?”
He threw his arms in the air. “Understand what? That if that man was released he’d report immediately to his supervisors and we’d end up captured or worse, dead like our parents?”
My blood went cold at his words. “You don’t know that.”
“I do, I’ve dealt with people like him before.”
Stunned, I found myself stuttering. “You…you mean to say you’ve captured others and tortured them?”
He stood near his window, framed by the dark blue curtains that matched his eyes. “How else do you suggest we get information?”
I felt sick. He hadn’t denied it. I had this slow, horrible feeling I didn’t know anything. “You’re torturing him! You saw his life, you saw the man he was and is. He has parents, a sister, a girlfriend, two nieces. He played soccer. He went to college—”
He slammed his hand against the wall. His anger frightened me more than I wanted to admit. “Stop! Damn it, Cameron, I’m protecting you. How do you not understand that?”
Sure, maybe my heart should have fluttered romantically at his words, but it didn’t. I wanted to shake sense into him. I felt like I was talking to a brick wall. “And if he dies because of what we’ve done?”
Determined steps brought him closer to me, his face set in stern lines of seriousness and intent. “He’s not going to die.”
“If he does?”
He paused directly in front of me, his lips parted as if to argue. With a frustrated groan, he latched onto my upper arms and pulled me into his chest. He was so warm, so lovely and his scent so wonderful that for a moment I just sank into him.
“What does it matter?” he whispered.
I froze, horrified. Surely he didn’t mean he didn’t care if Maddox died. “You don’t mean that.”
He was silent for a moment. “We’d be safer with him gone.”
I shook my head, staring up at him, knowing I would ruin everything with my next words. But I couldn’t help myself and I couldn’t think with him touching me. I shoved my hands against his shoulders, pushing him out of the way. “How can you say that?”
He latched onto my arm, his grasp desperate. “You’ll walk out? Run away because it’s gotten complicated?”
I wanted to ignore my feelings, to pull Lewis close and forget everything that had happened. Instead, I tugged my arm away from him. “No, because what you’re doing is wrong, Lewis.”
“You know nothing—”
“What about George?”
He shook his head, looking confused.
“Did you send George to my town on purpose?”
“Do you even hear yourself? Do you realize what you’re saying? That’s insane, Cameron! How can you think that?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore!” I cried out. “Before you there was hardly any crime in our town. And Maddox said—”
He laughed, a harsh laugh. “And here we go again. You’ll believe a murderer over me.”
I didn’t respond, I wasn’t sure how to. He grew silent and there was something there behind his eyes, a sadness that tore at my heart. He knew, before I’d realized, what I was going to do.
“You want to leave,” he said softly.
Hot tears burned my eyes. “I can’t stay here, Lewis, not knowing what you’re doing. I can’t be a part of that.”
“And what about us?” his voice caught.
For one long moment, I couldn’t respond knowing if I answered him, it would be over; any relationship we had. But the truth just flowed from my mouth, unheeded. “How can there be an us? We don’t believe in the same things. You think it’s perfectly fine to torture a man, to imprison him like he’s an animal.”
He shook his head, obviously disappointed in me. My throat closed with tears and emotion.
“And you think it’s perfectly fine to release a person who will kill you without flinching,” he stated.
“You don’t know that.”
He laughed and looked away. “Then try. Leave, Cameron. Put yourself out there where anything can happen. Test that theory, but just remember I won’t be around to save you.”
His words annoyed and hurt me, at the same time they gave me strength. “I don’t need you to save me. I never did.”
Having the last word, I pushed past him and burst into the hall. Even though my heart was hammering with the need to escape, I refused to run. I didn’t even flinch when I heard his door slam shut. I couldn’t turn back now. If I returned to Lewis, I’d give in and beg him to forgive me. I couldn’t, because I knew deep down I was right. Sometimes being right sucked.
Halfway to my bedroom, my emotions got the better of me. I paused in the middle of the hall as tears stung my eyes and blurred my vision. I had to leave this place. I knew that now. I no longer felt safe. I no longer felt like I belonged. But go where? Back to Grandma?
Suddenly, I missed her. Missed our small kitchen, and the eggs and pancakes she forced me to eat every morning. I missed the fact that on week nights we’d watch r
eality T.V. and argue about who would win that rose. I missed my small bed that creaked every time I rolled over and the floorboards that were so cold I had to wear two pair of socks.
I had to leave. I had to leave Lewis.
I fell back against the hallway wall, my legs weak. Oh God, I had to leave Lewis. The sob that had been stuck in my throat for the past five minutes came out in a strangled sob.
“Psst,” someone whispered.
Startled, I managed to contain myself. Olivia peeked out of an open door a few feet down the hall. She waved me toward her. I stood there for a long moment, wondering what to do. What sage wisdom did she have tonight? I really didn’t have the energy to deal with her.
“I’m tired, I want to go to bed.” I turned toward my door, intent on ignoring her.
“I have to show you something.”
Damn if I didn’t pause and glance back. She was pulling at her hair in that way that made me want to cringe. I wanted to refuse, to leave her standing there, but when I looked in her eyes and saw the desperation, I found myself making my way toward her.
I’d never been in her bedroom and I admit I felt weird, like I shouldn’t be there. We weren’t exactly B.F.F.’s. The room was purple, the curtains white lace. A lamp glowed on a bedside table, offering a warmth to the area. It was completely girly, yet almost too young, like for a five year old. There was even a set of porcelain dolls on the bed. It was kind of creepy, but then I expected nothing less than to be creeped out by her.
“What is it?” I asked, eager to leave.
She hesitated, and drawing that lock of hair between her lips, she nibbled on it like corn on the cob. Just when I was about to leave, her eyes went wide like an animal cornered. She was scared. Whatever she was about to tell me, she shouldn’t.
I swallowed hard. “Olivia, what is it?”
She spun around, and rushed to her bedside table. The drawer creaked as she pulled it open. This wasn’t the dour and blunt Olivia I’d come to know. This was a little girl, afraid of her own shadow. There was a soft rustling, as she searched through the drawer, her movements jerky and frantic. Curious and more than a little nervous, I stepped closer.
She turned, clutching a silver frame to her flat chest. “Here.” She shoved the picture at me. With no choice, I took it. A man, woman and a little girl with dark hair, stared back at me. A happy family, as photos often portray. Even though the child couldn’t have been older than five, I could tell she was Olivia.
I looked up at her. “Your parents?”
She nodded and snatched the picture from my hands. Of course there were a million questions I wanted to ask her, but before I could even open my mouth, she shoved the frame back into the drawer, hidden from prying eyes. When she faced me again, she looked odd, her eyes shining, her face flushed…almost excited or nervous, like there was something more she needed to share, something she shouldn’t.
“What happened to your parents?” I asked, warily. Were they, too, destroyed in the great epic battle? “Did…did they die when my father and Lewis’s parents died?”
She didn’t respond, merely took her hair between her lips. For one long moment, I stared at her while she stared at the floor. Something had happened, and I wasn’t leaving until she got the courage to tell me the truth. I was tired of the secrets, the lies.
I stepped closer to her, anger propelling me forward. “Damn it, Olivia, I need—”
“I want to show you something,” she whispered, looking up at me with anxious eyes. “Will you come with me?”
I hesitated. The last time I’d gone with Olivia, Aaron had found me in Maddox’s room. And look how well that had worked out.
“He won’t find us,” she said, her gaze solemn.
Startled, I was silent for a moment. She’d read my mind when I’d had my wall up.
“Come on.” She raced past me and was in the hall before I’d even decided to follow. With a sigh, I knew I had no alternative. I rushed after her just in time to see her disappear around a corner. “Olivia!” I whispered furiously, trying to follow her dark shadow down a narrow back set of stairs. “How can you read my mind when I had the wall up?”
“I’ve always been able to,” she whispered back. “No one can block their thoughts from me.”
I caught up with her on the first floor. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s there to understand?” Olivia cracked open a door I’d never been through, peeked inside, and finding the area empty she darted down a hall.
I made sure no one was there, and followed after her. I had no idea where we were as I’d never been to this part of the house before. Just ahead I could see her, a dark shadow, pull open another door and dart down another set of stairs. We were headed into the basement, although at the opposite end of where Maddox was being held.
I paused for one moment, my heart hammering madly. Did I want to start this all over again? Hell, yes. I rushed down those narrow steps, delving into the darkness.
“I don’t understand.” I reached out, pressing my hands to the stone walls on each side for balance. Olivia paused at the bottom, a dark shadow waiting for me. “If you can read anyone’s thoughts, why didn’t they use you to read Maddox?”
“Because he has something different blocking his thoughts, something man-made.” She continued down a narrow hall, pausing outside a thick, steel door. Not completely like Maddox’s cell. This door had a window. I stood on tiptoe and peeked through the glass, but whatever was on the other side was concealed with darkness.
“Move.” Olivia nudged me aside with a pointy elbow and then punched in a code at yet another keypad. Vaguely I was aware that whatever was in there must have been important. There was a click as the door unlocked. Such a soft sound, yet my pulse hammered madly. Quietly, she pushed the door wide.
“Where are we?” I whispered. Narrow windows lined the tops of the walls, too high to see out of, but allowing moonlight to filter into a long, large room.
But Olivia didn’t answer and for one moment, we just stood there. Maybe she was waiting for my eyes to adjust, maybe she wasn’t sure how to explain, or maybe she regretted her actions. Whatever her deal, it was too late. Shadows morphed into objects. Objects became small beds lined along the perimeter of the room. And little forms huddled on the beds were obviously children. Small children under blankets, children fast asleep. The soft sound of deep, even breathing was the only noise in the dorm…or orphanage…whatever it was.
Olivia started forward and so I followed, my shoes thumping eerily against the linoleum. “Who are they?” I demanded in a harsh whisper.
“Children with powers,” Olivia whispered back. “Children like us.”
Caroline. I froze. I could have sworn for one brief moment my heart stopped beating. Shock held me immobile. Children like us. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been this. There were at least twenty kids in this room, Olivia and I not included.
My little tour guide continued down the aisle. I hurried after her, frantic to understand. “Olivia, explain!”
“That girl there.” She pointed to the first bed on the right like a flight attendant pointing out exits. “She can cause people to feel pain. Real, horrible, physical pain.”
My stomach clenched.
“And that boy,” She pointed toward the left, indicating a small bundle of a child who couldn’t be more than six. “He can make you think you see things that aren’t really there.”
She pointed toward Caroline, who slept soundly curled into a tight ball, her long blonde hair glimmering under the light of the moon. “She—”
“Okay,” I whispered furiously and latched onto her arm, forcing her to pause in the middle of the room. “Enough. I get it.” But I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand anything and frankly I was tired of being the stupid one in class. How could these children be here without me knowing? Shouldn’t I have heard yelling? Laughter? Something! But all I’d heard was crying. I
pressed my hands to my stomach, the room fading, the world fading.
Crying. All those times I’d heard that eerie sound at night, those times Aaron had brushed off my questions by saying it was merely the wind. Crying. Frightened, little children kept under lock and key.
“He kept them quiet. He didn’t want you to know right away. He was afraid you’d think it was weird.” Olivia took that strand of hair between her lips and watched me as she chewed, waiting for my response.
He thought it would be weird? It was beyond weird. It was creepy. I tried to calm my racing heart. “How did they get here? Did their parents die? Were their parents murdered?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
“Then how?” I swiped my damp hands on my sweats. “Did their parents send them here to learn how to use their powers? Is this like a school of some sort?”
She shook her head again.
Frustrated, I resisted the urge to yell at her. “Olivia,” I snapped, my voice harsh. I glanced around, to make sure they still slept. None of them stirred; they were like little statues. “How did they get here?”
She lowered the lock of hair from her mouth, her large dark eyes looking directly at me. “He took them.”