Brain Storm by Cat Gilbert (ebook reader computer .txt) 📕

“That was one heck of a pick up then,” Jonas cut in. “We were looking at him through binoculars, for Pete’s sake, and he felt her? What kind of range does this thing have?”

Good question. I grabbed a mug of coffee and took a seat at the table, eager to hear Mac’s answer myself.

“It depends on the ability. If Hughes actually felt something at that distance, he’s got a lot of it.”

Well, I’d heard better news. My gaze drifted over to the cabin window, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Hughes was out there now, driving around, reaching out with his mind, to try to pick me up again. I quickly tamped down the tingle of fear that thought had ignited, determined not to give him anything to hone in on.

I looked back to see Mac watching me, relief showing in his face when I got it under control. Trinity was watching him too, suspicion written on her face and I knew the jig was up. Better to come clean now before she worked up a head of steam.

“Mac can sense my emotions too,” I told her, snapping her attention back to me. “He’s an empath like Hughes.”

They all turned to look at Mac like he’d grown a second head. He just nodded at them in agreement.

“Well, that explains a lot. He’s better at reading you than I am. How long have you known about this?” she asked, looking me straight in the eye.

“He told me about it in Little Rock,” I admitted. “I’m not sure I really believed it, or maybe I just didn’t want to admit that it was possible, but there’s no denying it now. Hughes may have it. Mac does have it and apparently, I do too. At least to some extent.”

Mama D got up to bring out some sandwiches and put another pot of coffee on while I told them about what had happened on the road the previous night. It was as hard for me to tell as it was for them to hear. We were a team, and I’d kept information from them. By the time I was finished, you could have heard a pin drop.

“So Mac and Hughes can sense Taylor and Taylor senses,” Trinity paused searching for the right words, “someone who she thinks is most likely this Brown fellow. Do you pick anything up on the rest of us?”

The question seemed innocent enough, but I knew it wasn’t. What she really wanted to know is if Mac and I had been spying on them. I’d felt what they were feeling now. Just the idea of having your deepest emotions exposed to someone else was horrifying. Knowing it for a fact was even worse. It had been hard enough to accept the invasion of my privacy, and I trusted Mac. The thought of having Hughes inside my head was a violation of the worst kind.

“No. It’s not like that,” Mac jumped in to explain, throwing me a worried glance. “It’s more like what you sense, Jonas, when you know someone is lying to you, or when you know you’ve got the jury on your side.” He nodded to Trinity. “An empath is just better at it. They can sense the emotion.”

He looked over at me, and I gestured for him to finish it. They might as well know the whole thing.

“At least, that’s the way it usually works. With Taylor and me, it’s different.”

“Why doesn’t that come as a surprise?” Jonas snorted. “How exactly is it different?”

“I don’t just sense her emotions. I actually feel them. Experience them. Even help her deal with them when they’re too intense.”

“So you felt Brown last night too? You felt what she felt?” Mama D asked, trying to understand.

“No. Last night, I felt her confusion, her anger, when she picked up on Brown. But what she was getting from him? That was her own personal hell. There was nothing I could do to help her except sit there and watch.”

Trinity just sat there looking at me as the impact of what he’d just told her sank in.

“You’re sure it was Brown?” Jonas asked me.

“I’m not sure of anything at this point. It’s just a feeling I had. I can’t explain it any more than I can explain the rest of it.” I pressed my fingers into my forehead, stretching the muscles up in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure I felt gathering behind my eyes.

“So, then. That’s it? No more hidden abilities you haven’t mentioned?” Trinity blew the hair out of her eyes, fatigue written on her face, as I was sure it was on mine.

“Yep,” I assured her, summoning up a smile and pushing up from the table. “That’s it.”

It was well after midnight, and we were all tired. I know I was. I was in the process of carrying the dirty mugs back into the kitchen when I noticed Mac was still sitting at the table, staring at the floor with a resigned look on his face. Trinity noticed I had stopped and followed my frowning gaze to Mac.

“Actually,” he said, when he finally noticed us all staring at him, “there is one more thing.”

I took a deep breath and gestured for him to go on, knowing from the look on his face that it was something I didn’t really want to hear.

“Back in Little Rock, when Mama D and I were in the vault at the Bank?” I nodded, frozen in place, the mugs dangling from my fingers. “I heard you talking to me. Every word. Plain as day.”

I looked at him with unbelieving eyes, knowing my mouth was hanging open and being able to do nothing about it. He’d never said anything about it. I remember saying the words, telling him to stay inside the vault. He had done exactly what I wanted, but I thought he was just picking up on my emotions, or it had been just plain dumb luck. Now he was telling me it was neither of those things.

He closed his eyes, unable to meet mine. “I didn’t say anything sooner because I knew you had about all you could handle on your plate already. I know you don’t agree with that now,” he put out a hand to stop me when I started to refute his statement, “but I can feel you. I know when you’re close to breaking.”

I turned around and went into the kitchen, slapping the mugs into the sink. I clenched my now empty hands, which were starting to shake, my mind reeling with what he’d just told me. Was what he was saying even possible? I could feel my breath coming in gasps, my blood pounding in my ears and I was helpless to stop it.

“Taylor, sit down.” I felt a chair being shoved under me as Trinity ordered me into it. I could hear Mama D telling me to take deep breaths, pressing a damp towel on my forehead.

“Mac, get over here!” Jonas ordered, but Mac was already there, his hands gripping my shoulders, the panic that had threatened to overwhelm me, dying back down to a manageable level.

“Taylor? Are you okay?” Trinity was kneeling down next me.

“No,” I answered in disgust, raking in air, feeling better by the second. “But I will be.”

Leaning back, I whipped the towel from my head and glared at Mac, who had obviously picked up on my displeasure as he was currently backing away. Before I had the chance to speak, though, Trinity was all over him.

“You know when she’s at her breaking point?” She drew back and socked him hard in the arm, driving him back further. “What were you thinking, dropping it on her like this?”

Mac straightened and looked at me, remorse written across his face. “I’m sorry. I thought you suspected, but I wasn’t sure. I had to tell you, and it had to be now. Taylor, listen to me. I can’t read your mind, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I can hear you talk to me if you focus hard enough on it.” He was looking at me with such intensity that I put a cork on my anger and focused on what he was trying to tell me.

He was warning me again, but about what? I was way too tired to play this game. My mind searched for some sense in what he was saying and finally landed on the truth. Hughes could sense my emotions. Maybe not feel them like Mac, but he felt something. If Mac could hear me talking to him when I focused on him, it was just possible that Hughes could too. Now that was a sobering thought. He could be out there right now, driving around, listening for me.

Mama D and Trinity had packed up pretty much everything before we’d gotten back from our trip up the mountain. Now we threw the last of it into a box, grabbed the packs and loaded up. The plan had been to leave first thing in the morning, but considering the revelations of the evening, we all would sleep better, if we ever actually got to bed, with some distance between Hughes and us. At the very least, I knew I would.

We’d pulled out of the motel onto an empty road, but by the second intersection, we’d met up with traffic. Within minutes, we slid into the flow, just one more vehicle in a line of cars heading down the canyon to the cities below. I watched the RV as it disappeared around a curve, several car lengths ahead and sank into the bucket seat, feeling safer and less exposed with each passing mile. Tomorrow we would re-group and figure out what to do next. It was with the knowledge that for now, we’d done all we could, that I closed my eyes and let the escape of sleep take me.