Hunting the Shadows Read online

  Rick wanted her to manipulate the man’s mind, to dig deep until she had access to every little neuron that made the prisoner who he was. It wasn’t hard to do. Once she got access to a person’s memories, it took little manipulation to change them into whatever she wanted. The identity of the man revolved around those puzzle pieces. By playing with them, she had too much power.

  “Yes, you can.” Rick’s tone hardened. “And you will.”

  “You’ll ruin him for the rest of his life.” It was her final plea, the last chance she had to try and convince Rick that he couldn’t sentence another human to a life as an invalid for his own twisted experiments. This was the first time on an actual live person. Before now, all of the experiments had been set up through the use of a virtual reality system.

  She swallowed hard, watching as Dare stepped into the room with a young man she recognized vaguely as someone from the psych ward. Dare reached into his suit jacket, drawing out a gun. “I would strongly encourage you to reconsider.”

  “I—”

  The gun went off. The young man fell to the ground clutching his leg, his face red with pain.

  “What are you doing?” She couldn’t help but scream the words. Wrapping an arm around her waist, she locked her knees to keep from falling to the ground. The man’s pain shredded her system raw. She reeled in shock, terror thick in her throat as she stared at the blood.

  “You have one minute. Stop wasting our time.” Dare’s eyes were empty, his expression blank.

  Rick laid a hand against her shoulder. It was enough that, on top of all the emotions rioting through her system, she couldn’t breathe. “Amy, you have to do this. Dare will kill him. We talked about this.”

  They wanted her to manipulate the prisoner’s brain as though he’d had a stroke. The young male had to be no more than twenty, if that.

  A tremble started in her fingertips, working its way up her arms to the rest of her body. She swallowed the nausea and closed her eyes tight. Letting electricity spark through her veins, she focused on the mind of her target. Because he had no shields, it wasn’t hard to get inside. A quick shove and she was within the centre of his mainframe. Immediately, she was assaulted by his fear. His thoughts became hers.

  She continued past the flash of memories.

  Deeper.

  She hesitated one last time, then manipulated the cells of the man’s brain as though his blood supply had been cut off. Cells withered and began to die.

  As deep as she was, she had no sense of time.

  Her lips began to tingle. She resisted the urge to touch her mouth. She didn’t want to know what she’d feel. The sensation began to spread, the numbness sweeping along the left side of her face and down her arm. She tried to talk, to say something, but no words came out.

  The strength in her leg went out.

  Before she crumpled to the ground, she pulled back, retreating from the man’s mind. She couldn’t stay there much longer, could barely fight the lingering feeling of being too deep. Of experiencing what he felt.

  She didn’t know how much time she’d lost, wasn’t sure how long she sat there on the tiles, her eyes closed tight as she regained her senses and fought to distinguish her own mind from his. Slamming the door to his mind was a necessity.

  She needed to feel something other than the overwhelming numbness of her body failing her.

  The blank film that had covered her senses lifted. Amy focused on the coolness of the floor and the sound of the machines behind her. At the bite of pain, she realized she’d curled her nails into her palms.

  Lifting her lashes, she stared at the blood pooling in the small crescent marks. “I did what you wanted.” She shifted her gaze to the man bleeding on the floor. “I’m done.”

  Rick reached for her, pulling her onto her feet.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered. His hands tightened on her as Dare took a step closer to the fallen man. “No!”

  The crack of the gun inside the room was ear-splitting loud.

  Rick held her back, locking his arm around her waist. She struggled in his hold, fighting him. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I did what you said! There was no need to kill him. Why?”

  “The Centre owns you, Amy. If you hadn’t fought us, he wouldn’t have had to die to get our point across.” Dare said coldly. “His death is your fault.”

  * * *

  She was brought back to her room. Alone, Amy ran into the washroom, dropping to her knees as she threw up everything in her stomach. Burying her face in her hands, sobs shook her body.

  There was no reason for the man to die. The only point was to force her to use her abilities on another living being. Now that she’d confirmed their suspicions, what else would they make her do?

  The next time, would they make her kill someone?

  She couldn’t do it.

  How many more deaths did she need on her conscience? Scrubbing a hand over her face, Amy forced herself to get control of her body.

  Rick would tell her she was giving in to her emotions. She was being ridiculous. Weak. He’d shrug off her concerns like when she’d first mentioned the shadowed man that visited her late at night. He told her she was crazy, told her that she was seeing things, but she knew what she saw.

  She knew someone had been in her room. Moving over toward the window, Amy eased her body down onto the sill. She pressed her palm against the bars on the window.

  “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like on the outside. It has to be better than in here.”

  She sought J.C., knowing that out of everyone, he would acknowledge her…even if he did think she was a spy. It didn’t matter what he thought. She’d make him believe her. She had no other choice.

  She was so close to the edge of losing the essence of who she was that one hard shove from another mind and she would be lost, shattering in so many pieces she wouldn’t be able to be put back together again.

  She was a modern day Humpty Dumpty. The comparison didn’t sit well.

  Amy touched the cool pane of glass, fogged from the night air. Condensation covered her fingers as she wiped clear an arc, allowing her to look out at the dark sky. One day she’d be out there. Surely they wouldn’t keep her locked up forever.

  J.C. was quiet. He didn’t trust her, but there had to be something she could do to get him to believe that she wasn’t working with the Council.

  Just because he didn’t answer didn’t mean she wouldn’t keep trying to communicate with him. She needed the conversation, wanting that comfort, as small as it was. It’d been so long since another mind had reacted to hers.

  She wasn’t going to give up now that she’d found someone who could communicate back with her.

  “Do you ever wonder if there’s anyone out there looking for you?” Someone had to be out there somewhere, wondering what had become of their child. Or at least that was the hope she clung to. They hadn’t even given her a last name. If the paternity line wasn’t known, it was protocol to not give a surname. Although she was officially known as a number, they’d at least given her a first name—Amy.

  “No.” His voice made her smile. It always came out dry, as though the world irritated him. “I have no one.”

  The memory hit her hard before she could prepare herself. Two scientists, J.C.’s parents hated this world they’d helped create. When he was six, his mother found out that the Council was too impatient to wait for the results to come in on a new drug meant to enhance psychic ability. They wanted to jump straight into human testing. She wouldn’t take the chance and instead of using the children as the first round of trials, had taken the drug herself. It poisoned her body, starving the cells until everything died. J.C. wouldn’t find out until later, but that night, his father, realizing his wife was dying, had broken into the labs to find a cure and when caught, was shot
.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He went silent again.

  Lightning flashed. Thunder followed seconds later, but she didn’t shy away from the window. Fascinated, she studied the formation of the clouds, tracing rain drops down the pane of glass. Trees bent against the vicious mountain winds, threatening to snap.

  “What do you want?”

  He sounded as bone weary as Testing made her feel. Moving her hand away from the chilly window, she tangled her fingers in her hair. Thirteen months ago, it had been shaved for doing tests. Now, it fell nearly to her shoulders in choppy layers.

  “Company. I’m alone. You’re alone.” She said it matter-of-factly with a shrug of nonchalance he wouldn’t see. “If I’m wrong and I’m interrupting some top priority activity such as doing push-ups, then by all means, say the word and I’ll leave you to your primping.”

  “You’re a pest.”

  “And you’re a jerk. What’s your point?” She thought he would pull away, but seconds later his laughter filled her mind and it warmed her. “So, on the point of us both being alone, I thought that we could keep each other company. Tell me what it’s like out there. Please?”

  If someone was to ask her to explain how she knew he was smiling, she wouldn’t have been able to give an answer. His emotions wrapped around her, caressing her in heat. She could almost picture it in her mind.

  “You’re nosy.” It wasn’t a statement but an invitation. His challenge was met with her laugh, the sound of it surprising her for a moment. When was the last time she’d laughed?

  “Comes with living off the thoughts of others. Being locked in a room really does a number on a gal’s social life if you know what I mean.”

  She curled up on the windowsill. Propping an elbow on her knee, Amy rested her head against her palm.

  “Yeah well, you’re going to have to find someone else soon. Tomorrow I’ll be re-programmed.”

  She frowned. “No, they can’t. You’re supposed to be the one to help me, J.C. I can’t do this on my own.” He was supposed to be the one to make everything all right. He was abandoning her. “There has to be something you can do to convince them not to.”

  “There’s not.”

  “But—”

  “No, there’s nothing that can be done,” J.C. interrupted. “Who are you? If you aren’t a spy, then what kind of a woman asks me what it’s like to be outside? Are you really telling me that you’ve been stuck inside all your life?”

  There wasn’t a time she could ever recall being free. Leaving the protective room meant risking her mental health—what was left of it. But even within, she wasn’t completely safe. Her shields were cracking each day she remained here.

  “They locked me up to protect me. My mind isn’t stable. I’ve been told that the drugs and isolation are necessary.” She went quiet a moment, then whispered, “My name is Amy.”

  Even knowing that this was all supposed to be for her benefit didn’t make being locked up easy to deal with. All she’d ever wanted was to be like everyone else.

  She pressed her cheek against the cool, wet bars to stare off into the dark.

  “Amy,” he said as though trying out her name. “That doesn’t surprise me. Telepaths’ abilities are volatile.”

  “I’ve already been given that spiel. It’s getting old. I’d be willing to risk it to go out and experience something.”

  “It’s freedom out there,” he murmured. “We all have our coping methods. I like to disappear for a few hours in the wilderness of the mountains. Sometimes, just going outside and being away from the Centre for a bit can make it more bearable. One of my favorite memories is of my father bringing me to watch the aurora borealis.”

  Her lips curved. She watched lightning flash across the darkened sky. “Describe it to me.”

  J.C. was silent a moment. “I don’t remember why we went, but my father brought me to one of the lookout platforms, high up in the trees overlooking the river.”

  “Sounds scary.”

  “When you’re five, it’s terrifying but exciting as well. You can hear the wildlife all around you, especially the wolves when they get riled up. I always knew I was safe as long as I was with my dad.” His words tightened a moment, but relaxed again as he went on. “That night the sky was so clear you could see the stars, even through the greens and reds of the northern lights. I fell asleep. He must have carried me back to the Centre. When I woke I was in my bed.”

  “What about your mom? How come she didn’t go?”

  “She was in the lab. There were…issues with a new drug.” The tension in his voice had returned so she turned the conversation away from the topic of his parents, asking more about the outside. As he further described the mountains, she closed her eyes, building the image in her mind. If this was as close as she would ever get to leaving, she would remember the warmth of his voice as his words stroked her mind, filling her with pictures.

  Eventually, she would figure out what she was going to do about J.C.’s re-programming. But right now, reality could wait.

  Chapter Four

  Looking like the stereotypical surfer with his golden looks, no one would think Ashton a monster. J.C. knew better. He’d met a few of the Enforcer’s victims. It was never a pleasant sight. More than half of the victims came out of re-programming drooling and barely capable of stringing two sentences together.

  The human mind was nothing to play with. So many things could go wrong. He’d witnessed the fragility of the brain. Being one of six lead scientists gave him far too much experience dealing with the negative outcomes that could occur.

  When Ashton broke into a second round of off-pitch whistled tunes, J.C. gritted his teeth. “Can we get this over with?”

  He tugged at the metal manacles around his wrists holding him down in the chair. Over the last week he’d spent way too much time tied up, but this was going to be the ultimate state of imprisonment. It wasn’t enough that they bound his body and abilities. Now, they would take away everything that made him Jaegar-Caleb Nikolaiev, the son of two founding scientists brought in after the war to create the virus strain that would bring out the psychic abilities.

  If he was lucky, he would simply be a stranger to himself and not another addition to the psych ward.

  Ashton shot a perfectly dimpled grin over at J.C. and leaned close. “That eager, Jaegar? I intend to do this properly. Wouldn’t want scrambled eggs when we’re expecting over easy, now would we?”

  “Speaking of eggs, whatever happened to me getting a last meal?” He narrowed his eyes, sarcasm coating every word. “I thought I ordered the steak well done. Do you mean I won’t get the piece of fudge cake? I really had a craving too.”

  “You can eat as much you want after. I have strict orders not to rattle your brain too much.” Ashton smirked, but there was nothing warm and fuzzy about it. “Now, you may feel a pinch, but don’t worry about it. There’s nothing you can do anyway so you might as well not fight the process. Just keep breathing and before you know it, it’ll be over and you’ll be a new and improved man. You won’t remember a thing.”

  He expected a warning, something to prepare him, but apparently, Ashton preferred to surprise his victims. The pinch was more than uncomfortable. It was as though someone had reached into his skull, tearing through his cranium to get to his brain and was twisting his cerebral lobes into a pretzel. J.C. groaned, fighting to stay still when all he wanted to do was clutch his head and curl onto his side.

  Violated.

  The one word described exactly how he felt as Ashton slid into his memories. It was nothing like when Amy was in his mind. Ashton’s touch wasn’t warm or comforting, but cold and ugly. It felt as though Ashton was a big, poisonous spider weaving a web of darkness and hatred through every neuron of his brain.

  His memories bega
n to change. He could do nothing to fight or protect himself, despite every instinct to. His punishment was final and when Ashton got through with him, he wouldn’t be the same man anymore.

  He whimpered, terror making his throat dry.

  Memories hit him hard before he could fully prepare. Fast on the heels of fear came grief, a flood of emotions that overwhelmed. The emotions pulsed around him, so thick that tears spilled from his closed eyes to drip off his chin.

  “Mommy? Come back. Please. Don’t leave me.”

  The memory slammed into him with the force of a tsunami.

  He’d been playing with Stefan and Mackenzie in the halls until they’d been found by one of Broderick’s men who’d yelled at them. The air had felt heavier than normal.

  Something was wrong.

  “Wake up now. Time to open your eyes.”

  His mom was in bed, her white lab coat soaked through with sweat. The lab coat he’d often sneak and wear. So he could look like her and daddy. Like a scientist. He put a hand on her shoulder and shook her, her skin cold and clammy. He touched her face and eyes, trying to open them.

  “Stop playing. Wake up.”

  He climbed up onto the bed, jumping on it. Mommy would laugh when he did that and call him silly. Then she’d scoop him up in her arms and tickle him.

  But she didn’t.

  He might have screamed in her ear. Might have shaken her some more. He wasn’t thinking clearly, too desperate to wake her up.

  “This isn’t funny. Mommy, please! Wake up. I love you.”

  Nothing woke her. He curled against her chest, tracing the blue lines of her veins against her skin. Over her neck. Along her cheeks and forehead. He eased close, pressing his face against her throat, his sobs shaking his small form. He cried himself to sleep, only to awaken at the feel of hands on him, pulling him away from his mother.

  “No! No, I’m not leaving! Mom!”

  Broderick hadn’t cared. The man simply told J.C. that he was going to live with him and his sons. Not only was his mom dead, but so was his dad. At six years old, J.C. had become an orphan.