[Ganzfield 2] Adversary (27 page)

“I can read that,” he said quietly, after what seemed like an eon.

Relief trickled through me. I closed my eyes for a long moment and let out the breath that I’d been holding. I pulled off the top post-it.

I held the pad up to him again.

His hands framed my face. “Oh, Maddie.” Desperate relief flavored his kisses. I felt as though he was drinking me in.

“You’re awake.” Hannah’s voice startled us both; I hadn’t sensed her approach. “Good. How do you feel?”

With her medical training, she’d probably know the term. I frowned as I checked my spelling of the word “aphasia” twice; it didn’t look quite right.

“You can’t speak at all?”

My response came out as, “Aaht.”

Hannah nodded, as if I’d actually said something that made sense. Her eyes were sad.

Resigned.

How long had she known about this?

“Matilda and I fixed what we could. When Trevor brought you out, we thought you were dead.”

Hannah and Trevor exchanged a look. What weren’t they telling me? This was annoying. I frowned as I looked from Hannah to Trevor.

“She can’t hear my thoughts. I’ve been trying to reach her.” Trevor’s hand kept gently stroking my neck and shoulder, but a part of me was still beginning to panic. How damaged
was
my mind? What’d happened in Isaiah’s mansion? How had I survived? How had I gotten back here? Was Isaiah still alive? Were we being hunted by charmed death squads? Could they be coming here right now? My heart thudded up against my ribcage, and I swallowed hard to keep it in place. The questions in my mind threatened to overwhelm me.

“Her dodecamine levels are very low now,” Hannah told him. I scowled. They were talking
about
me rather than to me. “She’s a rapid burner and, after all of the bleeding in her brain, Matilda thought she had a better chance of recovery if she was off the meds for a while.”

Bleeding in my brain?

That was a stroke—and a stroke was
bad
. I rubbed my forehead with a shaky hand. Was I more damaged than I felt? How would I know? Was there a point at which I wouldn’t know what I didn’t know? I felt fluttery and weak—and scared and sick and lost and…how much of that was emotional and how much was physical? Had Isaiah destroyed my telepathic ability or was it the result of being off the meds for—

I held it up to Trevor.

“What day is it?” he asked Hannah. He looked so tired. I felt another strong impulse to soothe him. As bad as I felt, he looked worse.

“Monday.”

I’d been unconscious for two whole days? No wonder Trevor looked so haggard.

“Nine days.”

My jaw dropped.

Nine?

Nine
days? Trevor had been in that torture of uncertainty for
nine
days? The single day I’d experienced watching over him had been unendurable. I put my hand up to his face, looking into his eyes and seeing the shadows of anguish behind them.
Crap.
I’d put him through hell.

I wanted to touch his thoughts and soothe his mind—try to make it better. I felt so useless, so helpless like this. I needed to fix this. I needed to fix myself so I could help Trevor.

I showed the little pad to Hannah.

“We have half a vial. 2ccs.”

That was enough. More than I usually got. Nine days. No wonder my levels were low. I needed weekly boosters, and it’d been well over two weeks. That was good news, actually.

Hopeful.

Perhaps Isaiah hadn’t burnt out my ability, after all.

I was going through a lot of post-its.

“I’m not sure you could handle it yet.”

I frowned and tapped the pad with my finger.

C’mon, Hannah! Don’t leave me like this!

Hannah looked from the note and back to my face a few times. She gave a sigh of resignation. “Okay, but let me check you out first.”

Trevor’s hand slid down to hold mine as Hannah put hers on either side of my head. Her eyes closed in concentration. I felt nothing from her, just the warm, dry touch of her fingers on my temples. She wasn’t actively fixing anything…at least, I didn’t feel the pins-and-needles that usually accompanied her healing energy. Was that good? Did it mean I was better? Or was it bad? Was there nothing she could do to repair the damage she found? And why was this assessment taking so damn long?

“I think you should be okay. You want it now?”

I nodded emphatically.

Hell, yes!

This silence—this isolation—was torturous. I met Trevor’s eyes, trying to convey my hope that it wouldn’t be long before we could hear each other properly again. He forced a smile and squeezed my hand, trying to reassure me right back.

Hannah returned a minute later. I’d never felt so happy at the idea of getting a shot. For just a moment, I felt like a junkie. How long would it take for the dodecamine to start working? I’d never been off it before and my initial dose had taken effect when I’d been asleep.

“I’ll go call your mom, okay?” Hannah turned to Trevor. “You’re here with her—of course you are.” I heard her footfalls going down the stairs. Where was everyone else?

Trevor’s fingers anxiously chafed my hand. “It’s okay.”

I met his eyes and suddenly felt like crying. What if it didn’t work? I was counting on the meds. What if I was stuck like this permanently? I’d felt Isaiah’s attack burn a part of my mind away. Did that mean that my speech was gone for good? Very possible. Matilda and Hannah would’ve repaired what they could.

Reality
—I’d probably never speak properly again.

Oh, my God
.

No! I couldn’t live the rest of my life this way. I just
couldn’t
. So weak, so useless..

So alone.

And what if dodecamine didn’t work on me anymore? The flutters from my stomach expanded into my chest and I suddenly couldn’t get enough air. The dodecamine had to work. It just had to.

“You know I get you, right?” Trevor cupped my chin in his hand.

I remembered a night, which didn’t seem long ago for me, when I’d uttered similar words to him. I looked into his face.

“Like right now…you’re feeling useless and angry and scared.” He slid into bed next to me and pulled me into his arms. His long frame seemed to fill the bed and his feet nearly hung off the end. Trevor was warm and strong and it felt so good to have him beside me. I slid closer to him, suddenly aware I was wearing what felt like an adult diaper under my old nightshirt.