Mind Readers: The Mind Readers Part 8

"He's dead." She spun around toward me. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and a bit wild looking. As scared as I was, I almost felt sorry for her. She was out of her element here. She sure as heck wasn't used to me talking back.

"He's dead, gone," she said in a softer voice. "There's no use in rehas.h.i.+ng the past."

The words killed me. Like a knife to the chest, they were actually painful. "I need to know the truth, to understand what I am, what I'm capable of. I'm tired of feeling like there's something wrong with me."

She closed her eyes. "I've never said there's something wrong with you."

"No, you just made me hide my ability, made me feel like I was a freak."

She opened her eyes, her gaze pleading. "Because of other people, not because of you!"

I released a harsh laugh and paced across the small kitchen. My skin felt too tight, my heart racing to go somewhere...anywhere. "Yeah, explain that to a five year old who has been abandoned by her mother."

"Your mom was addicted to drugs, Cameron, you know that had nothing to do with you."

I paused. The truth hurt.

So Grandma had no problem dis.h.i.+ng the dirt on Mom, telling me her every dark secret and repeatedly reminding me, but wouldn't even tell me where Dad was buried. "What about when I was little and you made us move away from Michigan?"

"I was protecting you."

"I'd only told one person-"

"And she told five others, including the cops-"

"And you made me feel horrible!"

We fell silent, both of us breathing heavily as we fought our anger. I wanted to scream in frustration. Why couldn't she understand? She'd made me feel like I was a freak. She'd kept the truth from me. She wouldn't keep this from me too.

She snorted, a sarcastic laugh. "So, what will you do, rush out and help people like some d.a.m.n superhero?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"That's what got your father killed!"

She'd stunned me into silence. Was she lying in some pathetic attempt to make me afraid? If so, it had the opposite effect. Lewis had been right, my father was a hero. He wasn't a coward, like me. "And so I'm supposed to stay here, never say a word, let innocent people die?"

"Better them than you."

I shook my head, ashamed of her. I didn't want to feel guilty; I didn't want to grow up afraid, like her. "I can't stand by anymore and let horrible things happen to people I care about. Maybe you can, but I can't."

She pressed her hands to her temples, her entire body trembling. She looked weak and pale under the brilliant light of the rising sun coming in through the small window above the sink. "You're not some superhero, Cameron. A bullet can kill you as well as anyone."

"I know," I said, softening my voice. "But I'm leaving, for me. Please understand that."

She slammed her fists onto the tabletop. "You will not leave this house! Until you're eighteen, I control you!"

"Not anymore." She wouldn't understand. Not now, maybe never. "I have to, they're coming for us."

The furry seemed to drain from her face along with any color. "What are you talking about?" Before I could answer, she turned toward the stove, obviously intent on ignoring me.

"Lewis told me about S.P.I., whoever they are, using people like us."

She turned and pointed her spatula at me. "As long as we stay out of trouble, they'll leave us alone."

I moved around the table. Everything felt oddly off balance. The tides had turned and Grandma wasn't in control, Grandma seemed to know less about S.P.I. than I did. "Will they? Are you sure about that?"

"Of course." She tossed a plate of bacon onto the table.

"What if you're wrong?"

She looked directly at me, her hazel gaze hard. "We are safe, Cameron."

My determination wavered. Could I trust her? I should, shouldn't I? She was my grandma after all. But she'd also kept the truth from me about my father and about what I could do. "Tell me you'll teach me how to block my thoughts, how to...how to show people mental images. Tell me you'll teach me everything you know."

"You don't need to learn," she insisted. "Nothing is going to happen to you."

"Is that what you told my dad?"

She went pale and I knew I'd gone too far. I hadn't meant to say the words, I hadn't meant to be so cruel.

"How dare you," she hissed.

It was too late. I couldn't take the words back. Unless I apologized, our tumultuous relations.h.i.+p would be over. My pride wouldn't let me apologize because deep down, I did blame her for everything that had happened. I turned and on shaking legs made my way to the hall where I'd left my suitcase. And I told myself, as I moved through the kitchen, that I was doing this not only for me, but for her.

"You are not leaving!" she screamed.

My heart lurched. I didn't dare look her in the eyes. I refused to respond because I knew I couldn't. I was afraid she'd scare me into staying. It was five minutes until eight. If I was going to do it, I needed to leave now. I moved around her and made my way to the front door, my suitcase wheels whizzing over the hardwood floors.

"I'm sorry, Grandma." My voice caught as I fought the tears. "But I'm done hiding."

I pushed the front door wide, the hinges screeching, and stepped onto the stoop. I fully expected her to stop me. She didn't. The cool morning air eased the sweat gathering between my shoulder blades.

"You don't think it's insane to leave with a guy you barely know?"

I paused for a moment as my grandmother's words. .h.i.t me. She was right, I knew that, but couldn't seem to care. Lewis's silver car was parked directly in front of our home; Lewis leaning against the hood. The dark blue sweater he wore stretched across his broad shoulders. He'd come for me. My heart leapt with joy. He pushed away from the car, and when our gazes met, a wide smile spread across his handsome face. I rushed down the steps, my suitcase thumping after me. I didn't stop until I was only a foot from him. Fisting my hands, I resisted the urge to throw my arms around his neck.

"You're coming," he stated the obvious.

"Yes."

Don't go, Cameron, please. Grandma's voice whispered through my mind. It was the first time she'd asked me for anything and for a moment I paused, her plea stinging.

My heart hammered wildly. Indecision held me captive. Could I really leave and take the guilt? Could I stay? I'd die here, maybe not physically, but mentally and emotionally I'd die.

"Cameron, are you ready?" Lewis asked, taking my bag.

"Yes," I whispered. Without looking back, I slid my hand into his.

For the two hour drive to the harbor we sat in relative silence. Lewis let me stew in my thoughts and emotions and I was glad for it. I wasn't ready to talk. I felt guilty as h.e.l.l, but I refused to cry. I was doing what was best for me and for Grandma. Someone had to learn how to protect us. Grandma had practically admitted that S.P.I. existed and I knew the reason she'd made me hide my powers was because she didn't want to bring attention to us. She was afraid. I could understand that, but I was my own person and I couldn't accept that for myself. And as the minutes ticked by and the distance between me and my old life grew, my guilt faded. When we were on the ferry that would take us to HaddockIsland where Aaron lived, Lewis finally spoke.

He nudged me with his shoulder, a playful push. "You okay?" He didn't move away, but kept close, his body warm next to mine as we leaned against the railing watching the main land get smaller and smaller. I wanted to go. I was doing the right thing. So why, as the land became a blur, did I feel the stirrings of panic?

"Cameron?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm fine," I said a little too quickly.

The wind tossed his hair and gave a flush to his cheeks. My body practically tingled when he was near. He was cute. Gorgeous. Realizing he had probably just read that thought, heat shot to my cheeks and I looked away. "I can't do this."

I felt his body stiffen. "Cam, you're doing the right thing, what your father would have wanted."

"No, not that." My embarra.s.sment grew. We'd never discussed any feelings between us, if there were any. Heck, maybe I was the only one thinking of romance. But surely he'd read my thoughts and knew how I felt. Wouldn't he have shot me down by now? Unless he got some perverse pleasure out of seeing me l.u.s.t after him. "No," I said softly. "I mean I can't stand here while you read my thoughts."

He laughed, those gorgeous blue eyes turning into half-moons as he looked out at the waves. I frowned and shoved him in the shoulder. "Not funny and it's not fair." I hated this, but I certainly knew how Annabeth must have felt. "It's...embarra.s.sing."

He looked at me, his eyes sparkling. As much as I wanted to be angry at him, all I could think about was how pure his gaze was, blue like the ocean churning below.

"Cam, I turned off my abilities."

"Turned off?"

He shrugged, wrapping his hands around the wood railing. His blue windbreaker rustled in the breeze. "Well, only with you."

"I don't understand."

He leaned super close, his breath warm on my cheek. "I'm not reading your thoughts."

I wasn't sure if I believed him, but with him so close, I didn't really care. "But, how? I've been able to dim people's thoughts by focusing on other things, but they still seep in."

He turned, leaning his back against the railing. "Just one of the many things you'll soon learn."

I gazed out at the water, silent as I wondered if what he said was true. There really wasn't a reason for him to lie. "Why?" I finally asked.

He glanced at me. "Hmm?"

"Why'd you stop reading my mind?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then shrugged. "It didn't feel...right." He turned toward the railing again and clasped his hands together. There was a flush to his cheeks, as if he was embarra.s.sed to be talking about his emotions. Such a stereotypical guy.

The horn on the boat released a deep bellow, indicating the sh.o.r.e was drawing near. My excitement flared, sending my stomach into a nervous fit. I hadn't wanted to sit inside on the lower deck as I'd needed to keep my mind clear of the other pa.s.senger's thoughts. But that meant I was chilled to the bone and eager to get on dry land.

"There it is," he said, pointing toward the sh.o.r.e.

I leaned closer to the railing, the wind pulling my hair from its ponytail and tugging at my jacket. There, on a sloping green hill that was apparently the highest point of the island, stood a ma.s.sive brick mansion, even more ornate and intimidating than it had been in my mind. Only a few trees dotted the landscape, but the lack of foliage didn't take away from the beauty of the place.

"Wow," I whispered, in awe.

Any unease about leaving Grandma, was gone. I felt my very life changing as that boat docked and the small village came into view. Clapboard homes and boats of various colors and sizes docked along the sh.o.r.e. It was a tourist town in the summer, Lewis had told me, a place where people vacationed to go whale watching, fis.h.i.+ng and shopping.

Today the island was quiet. Most of the residents had left their summer homes boarded up and empty. The few residents who remained were safely ensconced, bundled up against the chill afternoon wind. But for the few squawking gulls, it was quiet. So incredibly, blessedly quiet of thoughts!

Lewis took hold of my suitcase and started for the dock. I followed, weaving my way around the small group of tourists who had braved the autumn winds. The scent of salt.w.a.ter and fish was a comfortable and familiar scent. Everything seemed clean, fresh, full of possibilities.

I stepped off the dock and onto solid land and my heart surged with hope. The visitors rushed off to their destinations, leaving Lewis and me alone.

"Come on," he said, taking my hand in his warm grip. His excitement was contagious. He was coming home. He loved it here, and I knew I would too.

My suitcase thumped, rolling across cobbled stone. The place was picture perfect, like something from a holiday card. I could imagine that in winter, with snow falling, it would look ever better. Down the main street, historic stone and clapboard buildings lined the sidewalks. Grandma would love this place. I squashed that thought just as quickly as it had arrived.

"There he is." Lewis nodded toward a sleek black car where a man stood, leaning against the hood. Even from our distance, I could tell he was gorgeous. His arms were crossed over a slate grey b.u.t.ton up s.h.i.+rt. His blond hair was short and trimmed neatly.

Seeing us, he pulled the black sungla.s.ses from his eyes and smiled a brilliant smile that showed perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth. I almost paused, not expecting a man so good looking, so well-dressed. I wasn't sure what I'd thought he'd look like, maybe an old, wise-looking Dumbledore complete with a beard and robe.

"That's Aaron?" I asked, the disbelief apparent in my voice.

Lewis nodded.

I felt suddenly nervous. This man had known my father, known him well, when I hadn't even known his middle name. This man was going to teach me how to use my powers. This man was going to change my life.

Aaron's blue gaze went to me and his smile widened. "Cameron." He didn't pause until he was in front of us. He took both my hands in his strong grip, his palms warm and comforting in some odd way. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you." He was silent for a moment, his gaze studying mine until I blushed.

"My G.o.d, you look like your father," he said.

I took the words as a compliment. Even though he was dead, I felt closer to my dad than I ever had. Nervously, I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "Thank you. I...I've never even seen a picture of my father."

He frowned, his light blue eyes narrowing. "Well, we'll have to remedy that. I have plenty of pictures." He took the handle of my luggage and started toward the back of the car. "Come, I'm sure you'd like to rest."

I'd had little sleep in the past twenty-four hours and was physically exhausted. But inside, I was as giddy as a kid on Christmas Eve. I sank into the pa.s.senger seat, marveling over the smooth, soft leather seats as Aaron threw my suitcase into the trunk.

Lewis settled in the backseat. "You excited?"

"You could say that," I beamed.

Lewis leaned forward, resting his hand on my shoulder. "You won't regret coming here, Cameron, I promise you."

I didn't have time to respond. Aaron sat behind the wheel and maneuvered the car down the main road. "I'm so thrilled you decided to join us."

I certainly was too and as we drove through town, I knew I'd done the right thing. Call it instinct, but I was meant to be here, on the cobbled streets with the clapboard and Victorian homes.

"There are so many things I want to show you," Aaron continued.

The town ended and we started up the hill that would lead toward the mansion Lewis had pointed out on the ferry. "So many things you'll be capable of, I just know it. If you're anything like your dad."

I s.h.i.+fted, feeling uneasy for the first time today. What if I wasn't as powerful as my dad? What if I failed them? But now wasn't the time to worry. I pushed aside depressing thoughts and focused on the scenery. There were only a few oak trees that lined the road up the hill. It was a rather desolate place, but not uncommon for the islands off Maine. Still, it made an isolated picture. Isolation was fine by me. I was tired of being around people who didn't understand.

The sun was lowering, sending brilliant orange and pink rays across the ocean to my left. On my right, a high stone fence rose up along the road and followed us, ending at a set of large, iron gates, complete with a gatehouse. It seemed a bit extreme, but I knew rich people liked their privacy and Aaron was obviously rich. I couldn't help but wonder what he did for a living. I should have asked Lewis more questions on the way here, but had been too emotional to think straight.