[Ganzfield 2] Adversary (8 page)

Don’t do anything with him right now,
Hannah told me.
We’ll start with a baseline reading.

I nodded. I shielded my mind as much as possible and stood back. I figured that blocking couldn’t hurt, and it might actually lessen any mental energy I might be leaking into the situation. It really didn’t change my experience of his thoughts—or, rather, of the silence that stood in their place. However, telepaths were louder to other telepaths. If Zack had an ability related to telepathy, he might be sensitive to the same types of energy.

I frowned. It was as though his ability was the opposite of a projective telepath’s.

Whoa.

Wait a minute. The only telepaths who could block were Dr. Williamson and me, and we were the only ones who could project thoughts to others. Were the abilities related? Could Zack become a projective telepath, even if he couldn’t hear thoughts? In a way, it would be like a deaf person learning to speak verbally. And if Zack could learn to project thoughts—could he learn to
charm
that way?

Silent mind-control.
Yikes. No wonder Dr. Williamson was interested—and no wonder he wanted things kept quiet. With an ability like that, Zack could be the most dangerous G-positive at Ganzfield.

Well, the
second
most dangerous, at least.

When the first scan was complete, Hannah signaled me with a silent, “
Okay, now
,” and I focused on trying to read as much as I could from Zack’s mind. I pushed for information—dropping subtle thoughts into the narrow strip of consciousness I could hear from him—a trick I’d picked up from Dr. Williamson. If I did it right, he’d think the thoughts were his own.

How did Dr. Williamson discover I was a G-positive?

I saw the memory that this evoked—a confrontation with several football players in his high school, all much larger than Zack. One had shoved him and Zack had snapped. He had told the guy to drop dead and had punched him. The jock had fallen hard and not gotten up. Most times, such an event would’ve resulted in Zack getting his butt kicked by the guy’s friends, but he’d told them to “Just leave me alone!” They had.

What’s my worst memory?
Zack frowned and glanced at me, suspicious. His thoughts slammed shut. I pushed at his mental shield, amazed at the subtlety of it. If I hadn’t known what I was looking for, I would’ve missed it. Like a spiderweb, it was gently yielding—nearly invisible—yet stronger than it looked. Now that I’d seen it, I thought I could duplicate it.

I smiled. This little field trip had been very educational.

“We’re done.” Hannah gathered up the external hard drive that held the digital records of the scan and returned it to her bag.

“Maddie, were you doing something just now?” Zack asked, still frowning.

“Just part of the test.”

*   *   *

Dr. Williamson’s map led north through Hanover then out a winding country road. The surrounding, night-shadowed pastures overflowed with the simple, ruminating thoughts of hundreds of sheep.

We stopped in front of a dark farmhouse. Faded, once-yellow paint flaked off the clapboards, revealing weather-greyed wood. Plywood covered the windows and a black vinyl sign nailed to the front door warned: “PRIVATE PROPERTY: KEEP OUT.”

The place looked decidedly creepy. Was this really the right house?

Drew looked around skeptically. “Does anyone else feel like we’re on the set of a horror movie?”

“Teenagers stay in an old house overnight on a dare?” Zack gave a mirthless laugh. “I think I saw that one…and its four sequels.”

We piled out of the van, surreptitiously checking for someone running amok with a chainsaw or a machete. Our headlights cast the only light across the undisturbed snow.

“Relax, everyone. Superpowers, remember?” Drew threw a little fireball up from his palm as demonstration. The tension broke as we cracked up.

Trevor unlocked the front door, and then grabbed his gear and mine from the back of the van. The others could sleep in the house, but Drew, Trevor, and I had to use the outbuildings so we’d packed extra sleeping bags, inflatable mattresses, and battery-operated lanterns. The barn would provide adequate open space for Trevor, and it was far enough from the house that the others would be out of my mental range overnight.

Drew ended up in the “sugar shack”—a free-standing, closet-sized room made from sheets of corrugated metal. Inside, a cast iron stove supported the remains of the boiling apparatus used for making maple syrup and maple sugar. A lean-to nearby held a decent supply of dry firewood, which Drew eyed with the experience of a connoisseur as he gathered up a night’s supply. Within minutes, a warm, yellow glow brightened the panes of the shack’s tiny window.

The dusty smell of old hay and disuse filled the barn. I felt the scurrying thoughts of small animals—mostly mice—so I sent out a strong image of prowling cats that sent them running. Trevor and I set up our air mattresses and sleeping bags, and then headed to the house to use the bathrooms before settling in.

The cold barn instantly lost its feeble charm for us. Modern plumbing? Central heat?
Internet access?
The house’s dilapidated exterior must be an intentional choice to keep away unwanted attention. Rachel and Zack watched a big, flat-screen TV from opposite ends of the living room couch. I frowned. I almost wished I hadn’t seen the inside of the house. I’d have been more comfortable out in the barn if I’d thought the others were shivering in clammy creepiness.

“Why aren’t you three staying in the house, Maddie?” asked Zack.

I kept forgetting how new this was for him. “Well, sparks sometimes start fires in their sleep, and Trevor might knock down the ceiling telekinetically.”

“And you?”

“I…” I hesitated. My sleeping issue suddenly seemed private.

Personal.

“Well, I throw nightmares when people are in range.”

“Oh. You could stay here anyway. We can deal with a nightmare or two. It’s too cold to be out there tonight.”

He seemed sincere, but now I could feel the spiderweb over his thoughts, invisibly keeping things hidden. Something seemed…off.

“Stay,” he said, and I found I really wanted to.

I started to nod, but then recognized what it was that seemed off—the gentle, fogging feeling. A cold lump sank in my gut.

Zack was charming me.

Charming me! Oh, crap.

I pushed back hard and felt a stabbing pain behind my eyes. I tried to make my voice light. “No, thanks.” I forced myself to keep breathing normally, even though I wanted to run.
Fight-or-flight.
I didn’t want to tip him off that I knew he’d tried to charm me. And I
really
didn’t want him to know how close he’d come to being successful.

Zack scowled for a few seconds then his face became as blank as his mind. He returned his attention to the TV.

I waited by the front door for Trevor. Outside, the cold made my lungs ache.
Trevor, Zack can charm minders.

WHAT?

Don’t tell anyone. I’m not even sure Zack knows he can do it.

Are you okay? What did he make you do?
Trevor’s shaking had nothing to do with the temperature.

Nothing. I resisted, but it hurt. If I hadn’t recognized what he was doing, though…
My mind shied away from the thought as we closed the barn door.

You need to stay away from him. He could make you—
Jealousy pinged yellow flecks of energy within Trevor.
I think he likes you.

What?
I was about to contradict him, but instead I frowned, considering it. With Zack shielding, how would I really know? Trevor picked up on things like body language more intuitively than I did. What about Zack’s flirting that night in the infirmary? And he liked being on my team. Trevor could be right.
Oh, crap.

I swallowed hard. Good thing I could resist charms—even shielding charms.

Well, even if that’s the case, he’s outta luck
. I put my arms around Trevor’s neck, drawing him into a deep kiss, reaffirming our connection.

He returned my kiss fervently, possessively. We slid under his sleeping bag together. The layers of clothing between us were no barrier to his invisible touch, which trailed electrically down my neck…and then lower. Scarlet energy made my skin hum and my heart blaze. Our breath mingled in little clouds as his unseen hands—

Oh, yes.

Our kisses became more urgent. My hands moved under his shirt, sliding across the bare skin at his waist. With that contact, we could no longer hold back the explosive energy. The world fell away and we connected as souls.

Our bodies trembled against each other when we returned to them.
I love you
, one of us thought; I couldn’t tell whether it came from Trevor or from me. It didn’t matter. In the aftermath of soulmating, there was no distinction.

Leaving Trevor’s embrace for the cold, lonely sleeping bag against the back wall made me want to whimper, but we couldn’t risk another injury. I crawled in, fully dressed with a coat, hat, and gloves, and then pulled a second sleeping bag over me as a quilt. Still mentally connected, Trevor and I drifted together in the dreamlike, floatingly-peaceful state that comes before sleep.

*   *   *

In the morning, I woke up with the Beyoncé song “Halo” in my head. Being with Trevor gave me new appreciation for love songs. They now resonated with me in a way they never had before, capturing aspects of how I felt. And lyrics about being surrounded in an embrace took on a whole new meaning when the man I loved used his invisible arms to protect me from bullets.

I located my boots in the still-dark barn and stepped lightly as I left. Trevor’s sleeping bag revealed only the top of his knit wool hat, pulled low against the cold. Dawn colored the eastern edge of the sky a pale, pearl-grey as I went to the house. I took a shower, feeling the warmth of the water loosen the hold that the cold barn had on me. I blow-dried my hair and dressed.

Dreams filled the house. Rachel dreamed that she and Sean—

Whoa!