Ghostwalker 02 - Mind Game

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    “Milly. Bernadette.” She’d never felt so helpless or torn in her life.

    Shouts broke out as Jesse woke, struggling and fighting. Dahlia immediately followed the group of men, reaching out to Jesse as she did so. She wasn’t particularly telepathic, but Jesse was, and he would feel her energy and know she was present. Jesse. Tell me what to do .

    A man’s voice answered in a hard, authoritative voice… And it wasn’t Jesse. Don’t do anything. Stay away from here .

    She froze, sinking into the tall grass. Other than Jesse, no one had ever spoken to her like that. The world was crashing down around her and nothing made sense. The overload of violent energy made her sick, her stomach rebelling as the waves rushed over her, wanting to consume her. Her head was throbbing with pain. She kept her eyes on Jesse, hoping he would reach out to her, tell her what was going on. She saw one of the men deliberately reach down and slam the butt of his gun into the raw mess that was Jesse’s leg. Jesse screamed, a terrible sound that would echo in her dreams for a long time.

    The rush of violence hit her hard, swamping her so that she sagged backward, but she kept her gaze focused on the man who had struck Jesse so viciously. Flames rushed up and over him, huge leaping streaks of orange and red, as high as a bonfire, flames she couldn’t possibly control. Chaos erupted. Several men fired shots in scattered directions, uncertain where the attack was coming from. One man rolled his partner in a jacket to put out the flames.

    A third man simply shot Jesse a second time, in his other leg. Dahlia had never heard so much agony in a scream. She was sick, over and over, the power of the violent energy swirling around her and beating at her with more force than she’d ever endured before.

    “We’ll keep shooting him. You can’t get all of us,” the man who shot Jesse shouted.
    They kept moving, a tight unit now, Jesse in the middle, being dragged away while the men faced outward with their guns.

    Dahlia was too sick to move, to think. She cursed her inability to do more than sit there, hiding like a rabbit in the grass while they tortured Jesse and took him away from her.
    Jesse, who had taught her to play chess and gave her more relief than she’d ever imagined possible by just his presence. Jesse with his easy, engaging smile. He was the only person who ever teased her. She hadn’t even known what teasing was until Jesse had come into her life.

    She should have carried a gun. She knew how to use one. She could only watch helplessly until they were out of sight and she heard the boat motor start up. Dahlia rushed down to the docks to see two boats disappearing down the channel. The only evidence of Jesse was the terrible bloodstain. The red puddle looked shiny black in the darkness.

    Dahlia turned back toward her home. Smoke poured from the windows and doors, drifted toward the sky. She could see the flames licking at the walls. Jesse was gone.
    They’d taken him. I’ll find you. Stay alive, Jesse. I’ll come for you . She made it a vow.
    Just using telepathy without him creating the bond sent shards of glass into her brain, but she was far beyond caring.

    That’s what they want, Dahlia. I’m the bait. Don’t let them kill us both.

    Jesse’s voice was weak, tinged with pain. Her heart turned over. I’ll find you, Jesse . She vowed it with determination. Dahlia knew Jesse was aware she was stubborn and would do exactly what she said. She prayed it gave him the necessary hope to stay alive in the worst of circumstances. Knowing there was nothing she could do for him, she made her way up the path to the house.

    She staggered at the entrance. The energy was much stronger close to the source of the violence. Her body was rebelling, and she could feel the reaction building despite her attempts to keep control. She had only a few minutes to discover whether Bernadette and Milly had survived the purge.

    Dahlia curled her fingers into a tight fist, nails digging into her palm. There was only one person whose energy she could feel emanating from her home. Male. A stranger. She couldn’t get a direction on him, the energy level was too low and too spread out, almost as if he could disperse it deliberately across a vast area. She gained the wide verandah, her soft soles making no noise on the wood. “Be alive.” She heard the whisper of breath and knew she said it, although she didn’t remember