The Society - Hunter Healer Part 14

"I wish I'd had time to shoot him once or twice more," Justin muttered. His knee b.u.mped hers again. He was trying to comfort her, she realized, and was oddly grateful for it.

"I don't know." She s.h.i.+vered again, her coffee splas.h.i.+ng inside the cup. It was hot and strong, and she wanted another jolt, anything to clear her head of the persistent, soft, maggoty voice. Gooseflesh spilled down her back, her hackles rising as if she was in danger. "I hope not. Justin pushed him. He also had a knife in his throat. If he survives..."

"He's survived worse, the old b.a.s.t.a.r.d." Henderson stared at the table. "G.o.dd.a.m.n it."

It was so unlike him Rowan's eyebrows threatened to nest in her hairline. "General?"

"He was my handler." He spread his hands on the table. "Back in the old days of MK Ultra." He shrugged. "He was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d even then. Anyway, let's hope he's at least out of commission for a good long while. How far did he get inside your head, Ro?"

Give in. Give in. Give in to me, let me IN.

"Not very far," she whispered, staring at the table and her almost empty bowl. "Far enough to hurt."

"He didn't get anything of value," Justin interrupted. "I made sure of that."

"You know how dangerous he is. We have to be sure." The older man glanced at Rowan. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Absolutely." Justin's certainty felt warm and rea.s.suring, a flood of suns.h.i.+ne in the middle of her head, cleaning away the remaining filth. But something skittered away, burrowing under the surface of her conscious mind, and she found it suddenly difficult to think. One realization swam slowly to the top, as if swimming through mola.s.ses.

"You think he can track me if he's still alive," Rowan said, slowly. "I'm putting everyone in danger."

Justin's fingers tightened on her bruised wrist. "Stop it. You're clean. If you weren't, I wouldn't havebrought you in. I'd have holed up somewhere with you until you were all right. Trust me, Rowan. Yos.h.i.+ scanned us both, and we're both clear."

She nodded, biting her lower lip and looking down at the table. But if it hadn't been for me, none of this would have happened.

A sudden wave of self-loathing swept over her. She took a deep breath, blinked back tears, and pushed up to her feet. "Excuse me," she said politely. "I'm very tired. I'm going to take the dishes back down and go get some more sleep. Unless you have something you need me to do."

Henderson and Justin exchanged a long look. What it meant she couldn't decipher. Was Henderson asking if she was truly safe? And Justin making that small gesture-a tiny shrug, his face expressionless, eyes dark-was defending her to the General. But how could he be sure she was clean? What if the slime-drenched mindbreaker had inserted some flaw into her, something Sigs could use to track her down like they had last time?

I don't feel clean, she realized. I feel dirty. I don't think I'm ever going to feel clean again.

She wished with sudden vengeance that she could take a scrub brush, not to mention bleach and hot water, to the inner corridors of her mind, cleaning out the contamination. It wasn't just the blind man. It was the whole fantastic chain of events, from meeting Justin outside the abandoned house to the fall of Headquarters to this latest debacle. The Society would get along so much better without her.

"Ro?" He touched her hand, his fingertips gentle. "I'll go with you. I could use a little more sleep myself."

Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes. She tore away, shutting her mind to him with a clenching physical effort, stacked the bowls, and took her coffee cup.

"No. Stay with Henderson, he needs you." Boy, does he ever. And if I'm infected with something that will draw Sigs...

The sharp upswell of guilt stopped her in her tracks. They hadn't had a moment's peace since she'd joined the Society. Things had rapidly gone downhill. Justin had practically had to twist her arm to get her to snap out of it and start training to be an operative. Although, to be perfectly fair, he hadn't. He'd left it up to her.

"Don't care." Justin's fingers loosely braceleted her wrist. "You okay?"

No, I'm not. I won't be okay for a long, long time. "Fine. Look, catch up with Henderson." I'm talking about him as if he isn't sitting right here. "I just need to rest. That was a hard hit, and I think I'm still a little woozy."

"Sounds good. It can wait." Henderson's eyes were on her, kind and utterly ruthless. "Rest, Rowan. I'll need you soon."

Need me? Like you need a hole in the head, maybe. "Sure," she mumbled, twisting her wrist free of Justin's grip. "I'll see you later."

She carried the bowls away and heard Henderson murmur a question. A worried one, to judge by the tone. I'd be worried too, General. If I'm dangerous to the Society, you should just tell me outright.

It'd be a lot easier than all this p.u.s.s.yfooting around.

Justin apparently decided to let her go. She walked slowly through the new Headquarters back toward the kitchen. When she reached it, Tamara wasn't there, so she put the bowls in the large industrial sinkset aside for dirty dishes and leaned against the counter. She held up her hands.

They were shaking. Her fingers trembled, and so did her palms. She watched them distantly, as if they belonged to someone else. The pain vanished as her mind latched onto the single undeniable conclusion, the only course of action she could possibly take.

"Calm down," she told herself. "You know what you have to do."

She might never have another chance. They called Justin Rowan's shadow for a reason.

Kitbag, she thought, suddenly glad to have something to focus on. And I'll need my duffel. And a car.

Can I get out without anyone seeing me? I can do that. This is the Society, after all. They trust me.

Which is exactly why I have to get away from them. I'm the danger. I'm the bad-luck charm, the reason nothing's going right. G.o.d, how could I have been so stupid?

Enough. Time to get going, before Justin decided she wasn't better off alone right now. It wasn't like him to leave her alone, but maybe he was having second thoughts about her now. She had, after all, brought him nothing but trouble. She peeled herself away from the counter and set her shoulders, walking quickly out of the kitchen to get her kitbag. She needed a map, too. Fortunately, she could access the Headquarters intranet with her clearance and get any of Henderson's maps that Yos.h.i.+ had loaded. She was sure one of them would show Sig Zero-Fifteen.

Forty-five minutes later, her duffel and bag safely stowed in the pa.s.senger seat, Rowan crossed the state line and pressed the accelerator. She knew where she had to go next.

Chapter Twenty-Two.

"Is she all right?" Henderson asked, his tone low and worried. "She looks dazed."

"He hit her hard. And you know how dangerous he is to telepaths." Del shrugged, rolling his shoulders back in their sockets. As soon as she left the room, the p.r.i.c.kling of Zed withdrawal settled deep in his bones, twisting. The leftover wounds from his run-in with Carson also twinged, a mounting song of discomfort. He set his jaw and ignored the feeling. She needed a little alone time now, time for her violated psyche to put itself back together. He would only make the situation unbearable by nagging at her. The mental walls between them had slammed up, tinted a deep, dark red with pain and guilt, and he'd noted the shaking in her hands. She needed rest and maybe a little good, old-fas.h.i.+oned therapy as soon as they had both recovered a bit. "She'll be okay as soon as she gets some more sleep, I think."

"What if she's not?" The old man's steely eyes met Del's.

"Then I'll take care of it." He didn't bother disguising the possessiveness in his tone. "Take her up to Calgary, maybe, or go start causing trouble in Europe. Get her out of the country, somewhere nice and isolated where she won't worry so much. She's been scared half to death, old man, and withdrawing from everyone as well." He heard his voice rising and took a firmer grip on himself. He didn't need to start shouting at Henderson.

It was just that she had gotten so d.a.m.n good at hiding what she felt, keeping that brave face pointed outward. It was frustrating, thinking about the pain that lay behind serene facade. It was even more frustrating to think of how other people must have taken it for granted. She was so powerful and outwardly calm it was easy to a.s.sume she was all right.

"I know." Henderson took his gla.s.ses off and rubbed at his eagle eyes. "I'm sorry, Del. She's so f.u.c.king talented it's hard to know how to approach her. She can do things no other psion I've seen can do. And if I try to tell her to back down, to take a break, she just stares at me with those big eyes of hers. It's like she feels personally responsible for every G.o.dd.a.m.n thing."

"What, like you feel responsible for every d.a.m.n thing?" The attempt at humor was met with a wan smile.

Let's leave it alone, General. If I think about this much more I'm going to get angry, and I don't want to do that right now. "What's the situation like here?"

Henderson took the change of subject gracefully. "Good as it can be. We have plenty of liquid a.s.sets and are three-quarters done with the infrastructure. Yos.h.i.+'s been working around the clock with Cath and the new guy, Lewis. Rowan got him out of a dicey situation, and he's been one h.e.l.l of an a.s.set. Anyway, we've pulled everyone back in to consolidate. The next few weeks are critical, but we've got every fail-safe I can think of-and a few that were Rowan's ideas-in place. We're as safe as we can be. The newbies are flooding in and undergoing intensive training. Most of them have come through wonderfully.

The teams are concentrating, shaking free of Sig nets, and coming in one at a time. There are a few out causing trouble, which is good for us. They'll come in once they've finished a s.h.i.+ft and we'll send a few more out."

"Nice." It was hard not to sound openly admiring. "You've been busy."

The old man shrugged, his rig creaking slightly. Henderson was the only person Del knew of-other than himself-who carried his knives everywhere. "Well, it's not like cooling my heels in an Italian villa, but it's good enough. Listen, I want you to take a look at these-"

From that point on it was natural. He'd worked with Henderson for so long it was easy to catch theman's train of thought, and Del was suddenly grateful to be back where he belonged. Funny, but before Rowan he'd never considered that he belonged with the Society. But wherever she was felt like home, and this felt more like home than ever, poring over maps, coming up with scenarios, crosschecking protocols and procedures. He didn't notice darkness had fallen until he heard a faint sound and looked up from a stack of printouts, seeing Yos.h.i.+ slumped over his keyboard, asleep.

Henderson, slumped in a captain's chair behind a folding table that served as a desk, rubbed at his eyes.

The sound came again, a tentative knock at the door.

Eleanor cleared her throat. She stood framed in the door, a thin beanpole of a woman with messy dark hair. Her rig was supple and well-oiled, she favored Sig Sauers instead of Glocks. Del was relieved to see she'd escaped the ruin of the old Headquarters too.

"Hey, Del." She seemed unsurprised to see him. "Henderson, is Rowan around? I heard she'd come in, and Bobby has a new trick he wants to show her. He'd love to see her."

Del blinked. He reached automatically for Rowan, meeting only the same hard mental walls, curiously thinned and brittle.

"She came in with Del." Henderson rubbed his eyes and yawned again. "She hasn't checked in with you yet? She was pretty hashed."

Delgado pushed himself up. He touched the mental walls, probed them delicately. Ro? Angel, I need to talk to you.

No answer. Just a strange sensation, as if his chest was suddenly yawningly empty. An empty room.

Adrenaline spiked through his blood and laid copper against his tongue. Stark, uncomprehending fear smashed through him. Rowan?

Rowan! He sent the call out along the private path between her mind and his, the deepest level of their shared bodies. The link reverberated with emptiness. Henderson glanced at him. Eleanor had gone suddenly pale under her dark curly hair. Delgado had no idea what was on his face in that moment, but he was sure it wasn't kind or pretty.

"Oh, G.o.d," he heard himself say. His eyes burned with something too deep and hot to be tears. It suddenly clicked into place: her seeming distraction, the waves of pain and guilt, the dazed look on her face.

A f.u.c.king compulsion. How could I be so G.o.dd.a.m.n blind?

"What?" Henderson's capable hands curled around the edge of the table, as if he needed to anchor himself. Yos.h.i.+ stirred, his cheek pressed against the edge of his keyboard. The monitors flashed.

"Delgado?" The sharp bite of command was in the General's old, gruff voice, but Del was past caring. He half-whirled, as if Rowan might be standing behind him, closed his eyes, and fought for control. The old man's chair squeaked as he rose, slowly.

He probably thinks I'm going to go postal. I just might.

Silence ticked by as he wrestled with himself. Finally, he took a deep breath.

"Carson buried a compulsion in her," he said, forcing the words out through his teeth. "Of course. The f.u.c.ker knew he couldn't take her from me, so he cracked through the first few layers of her s.h.i.+elding andplanted a compulsion. G.o.ddammit." How could I be so stupid? I saw it, all the signs were there.

"What compulsion?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Del opened his eyes, and Henderson took a step back, sending his chair over to smack on the wooden floor as if he suspected Del was going to come after him. Yos.h.i.+ groaned, probably catching the tension in the air. "She's heading to parts unknown, and she's going to get picked up by Sigma, pretty as you please. G.o.d-f.u.c.king-dam-mit."

"What's going on?" Yos.h.i.+ yawned and stretched, dislodging the comm-unit. It made a small tinkling sound as it hit the desk. "Not another crisis. Please." He yawned again. His black hair stood up in wildly-gelled spikes.

"No worries." Del's boot heel ground into the floor as he turned, Eleanor ducked aside from the door, obviously not wanting to be in his way. "I'll bring her in."

"Del-" Henderson began.

f.u.c.k off and die. She's mine. She belongs to me. I'm going to bring her in. "No, Daniel. I'm the best bet. Sigma won't catch me again, and I stand the best chance of catching her. Jump-off's in ten minutes.

I'm taking a car and some gear, and I'm going to bring her in if I have to slaughter every f.u.c.king Sig in the western hemisphere to do it."

"Del-"

Don't you understand? Have I not made it clear enough? "No." Just one clipped harsh word, but it stopped Henderson in his tracks.

Eleanor put her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and haunted. Christ, he wanted to say, quit looking like that. I'll get her back. I'll bring her back.

He was halfway to the door before Henderson spoke again. "How are you going to find her?" The old man sounded weary.

"I trained her," he tossed over his shoulder, gathering speed. "And besides, I've got to find her. She'd find me."

She did find me. She brought me back. G.o.ddammit, why didn't I see it? All the signs were there-unconscious for a long time for the compulsion to sink in and replicate to set up a ricochet, the shaking, the guilt, and the uneasiness. She was vulnerable-not enough sleep and worrying herself sick thinking I didn't want her, thinking she's to blame for everything.

"Del? Delgado!" Henderson actually yelled, but Del was already gone. He was running, not bothering to pace himself. She had several hours' worth of jump on him, and it was up to him to narrow that gap and find her before the compulsion Carson had planted brought her into a Sigma net.

Hang on, angel. I'm coming. And when I find you I d.a.m.n sure won't make the same mistake again.

I'm not going to let go of you until you're safe-and until you're exactly sure of how much you mean to me.

Del grabbed a map, his duffel, and his kitbag; Yos.h.i.+ showed up right behind him with a roll of cash and an emergency ident.i.ty."Here." The slim j.a.panese man shoved the doc.u.ments into Del's hands. "Henderson's climbing the walls.

He's got me running chatscans and everything."

"Thanks." Del stuffed it higgledy-piggledy into his kitbag. "Car?"

"Take the black one." Yosh dangled the keys. His dark eyes were wide and anxious. "She hasn't been herself lately. Too wound up. Bad case of combat jitters." Del s.n.a.t.c.hed the keys. Yos.h.i.+ didn't flinch.

"There's something you should know."

"If it's more of your G.o.dd.a.m.n Sun Tzu, can it. I've got a serious-"

Yos.h.i.+ grabbed Delgado's arm. "Listen to me, Delgado. Justin. Listen to me."

It was so utterly unlike Yos.h.i.+ that it penetrated the fog of worry and rising anger. Delgado took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, Yos.h.i.+'s hand fell away. "I'm listening," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Make it quick."

"She loves you." Yos.h.i.+'s mouth was a straight line. "Don't hurt her."

That anyone thought he would harm her hit him like a fist to the gut. Christ, she was the only thing he cared about. Why would he even contemplate hurting her?

"Hurt her? I'm going to bring her back." No matter what I have to do. G.o.ddammit, I'm an idiot, a stupid, idiotic moron. I should have seen it, should have seen the warning signs. Compulsion is Carson's G.o.dd.a.m.n motherf.u.c.king specialty. I should have seen it.

"Be gentle." Yos.h.i.+ looked more worried, his eyebrows drawing together and his mouth turning down.

"Gentle as I can. But if they so much as touch her I'm going to-" His pulse spiked again, he had difficulty bringing it under control. So much to do. So little time.