Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Travis knew something was wrong. First, there was the muzzy feeling in his head. It shouldn’t be there. He had no body, no physical brain that was failing to function. Still, he had to fight for coherent thoughts. The only firm idea that stuck in his mind was that Olivia was in danger.
Fear and something else he couldn’t identify would have cut off his airways if he had needed air to breathe. Feeling a deep stab of dread, he turned to Olivia in the darkness. Wake up. You have to wake up.
In response, she made a choking sound and started to cough. Yes. Wake up, he urged.
She blinked, her eyes drifting partially open, but she didn’t come any closer to consciousness.
Something’s going on. Desperately, he tried to reach her mind, but his thoughts were too fuzzy to do it. And he sensed that hers were even more impaired.
Summoning every ounce of strength he could pull together, he grasped her shoulder, but he got no further response from her.
Desperation kept him trying to break through to her. You have to wake up. You have to get out of here.
But it was already too late for escape. The bedroom door burst open, and figures rushed in. In his stupor-like state, he couldn’t figure out exactly what they were. Animals? Men?
They had recognizable arms, legs, and bodies, but there was something badly wrong with their faces. Instead of noses, they had elongated snouts like something out of a horror movie. Or an old Star Trek episode he’d seen in reruns about a salt monster that sucked the life out of people
Then the shapes came clear to him, and he realized that they were all men, all wearing gas masks. Which must mean they were protecting themselves from something.
The whole picture suddenly came to him in a flash of insight. Before coming in, they must have found a way to flood the house with poison gas.
Poison, oh God, no! He leaned over Olivia, feeling the breath moving in and out of her nose. Whatever it was hadn’t killed her—at least not yet. But it had knocked her as senseless as a stone statue. And it had made his thoughts muzzy because he was tied to her.
One of them spoke. “Looks like she’s out, too.”
Too? That must mean that Gabe was also incapacitated. So the stuff was all over the house. How had they done it?
And Christ, what was he going to do now?
He tried again to wake Olivia, but he got no response.
Next, he turned to the men and tried to zap them the way he and Olivia had done with the tin cans.
But it was no good. He could barely raise a trickle of power.
Not on his own and not in his present state, maybe because he and Olivia had drained themselves during their manic practice session.
They’d been frantically trying to get ready for trouble.
They hadn’t realized how close the danger was, and that they were simply making themselves more vulnerable than ever.
If he could have spoken, he would have filled the room with curses.
“How soon before the gas dissipates?”
“I don’t know exactly. Don’t take any chances. Keep your masks on.”
The command sent a shiver up Travis’s spine. Not so much the words, but the voice from his nightmares. It was Smith. Against all reason, he was here, at Olivia’s house. Somehow, he had found out who she was and where she lived.
Trying desperately to protect her, Travis threw himself across her body, but he had no substance and no damn power.
One of the men leaned right through him and rolled her over, grasping her hands so he could cuff her wrists behind her back.
Next, he tied her ankles together so that she had no hope of escape.
Overkill. But they were taking no chances.
The man straightened, staring down at his captive before looking back at Smith. “That was odd.”
“What?”
“When I leaned over her, I felt something.”
“What?” the hated voice demanded.
“I don’t know. Can’t describe it.” He lifted a shoulder. “Like there was something in my way. I had to push through it.
“Air currents?”
“I dunno.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” came the clipped response. “We’re getting out of here while the getting’s good.”
The other man lifted Olivia over one shoulder like a sack of grain and clasped her bottom as he started for the door.
Travis leaped to block his way, but the energy he and Olivia had generated was simply gone. Still, the guy looked back, probably feeling the same sensation as when he’d leaned down to secure his captive.
Travis clenched his fists, feeling defeat settle over him like one of those heavy blankets they laid over you before they X-rayed your teeth.
If he could have thought straight, maybe there was something he could have done.
But any realistic course of action eluded him.
All he could do was follow along as Smith led the way, and the other guy followed with Olivia.
They reached the den, where they joined up with another man also wearing a gas mask and standing over Gabe. The detective was also out cold and trussed up like a pork roast.
“Time to leave,” Smith muttered, and the two men marched forward with their inert captives.
They came out onto the driveway where an SUV was waiting. When the cargo was loaded inside, the captors all climbed aboard. One of them drove. The other stayed in the back, where the bodies were laid out. Travis squeezed into a bit of remaining space.
Had this car really gotten here so quickly from the Eastern Shore? The mystery of the fast arrival was solved when they came to an open field where a helicopter was waiting.
The SUV pulled to the side, and the cargo was unloaded into the helo. Then they took off with all aboard, including Travis.
On the ride back, Travis scanned the landscape below.
He knew the area well and kept his eye out for landmarks as they flew.
He recognized Annapolis, then the Bay Bridge.
As they approached St. Stephens, he kept his eyes on the roads below.
It wasn’t that easy to follow the route, but he thought he could see which turns they were taking, and when they came to a large estate, he saw that it backed onto the Miles River.
That must be the river Pete had been talking about.
The property was vast, with green lawns, several outbuildings, and a house that was probably the manor of a former plantation.
The helo came down by a large barn which had been modified to serve as the hangar.
More men were waiting on the ground for Smith to arrive, and snapped to attention when he started giving orders.
“Get her into the interrogation room,” he barked.
“What about the detective?” one of the operatives asked.
Smith glanced at the unconscious man. “Secure him in a cell. I’ll decide what to do with him later.”
The tone of his voice told Travis it might be a one-way trip. Or maybe the bastard would decide to see what he could get out of Gabe.
Keep him alive. He might have information about Olivia, Travis silently projected toward Smith. Could he influence a person’s actions? He didn’t know, but what did he have to lose?
* * *
Far away in the guesthouse on the Bordeaux plantation in Lafayette, Louisiana, Rachel Harper awoke. Her husband was instantly aware that something had jolted her from sleep.
“What?” he asked, alarm making his heart start to pound. “Are we in danger? Under attack?”
“No, not us.”
“Then what?”
“The people in Maryland I told you about.”
He relaxed a fraction. “The...unusual ones?”
“Yes. The couple where he’s dead and she was able to keep him from crossing over.”
When Jake dragged in a breath and let it out in a rush, Rachel knew that he was still reserving judgment on her belief that one of the pair was already deceased.
“She’s been drugged and captured by the guy who tried to get Stephanie and Craig. The same guy who killed...” She paused, trying to bring the name into focus. “Who killed Travis.”
“That’s the ghost? That’s his name?”
“Yes.” She sat up and ran a hand through his hair.
“And you know all this, how...?”
“Travis is beyond desperate. He’s trying to get through to...Olivia, but he can’t do it because Smith put her under.”
“Smith?” Jake had also pushed himself up and was looking questioningly at his wife.
“I’m only getting this because Travis is so agitated. He’s putting out the strongest signal I’ve ever felt.”
Jake whistled through his teeth. “And he’s a ghost?”
Rachel went on with her explanation of the situation. “Obviously, Smith is a false name. But I’m willing to bet he’s the one who went after Stephanie and Craig—and then Elizabeth and Matt.”
They were the most recent couple who had joined the group of telepaths who had established a base of operation at Gabriella Bordeaux’s plantation.
Gabriella ran a restaurant in the manor house where she and Luke lived.
The others were in the guesthouses Gabriella’s mom had rented out before her death.
And the group was having several more cottages constructed in case other children from the Solomon clinic showed up.
“Bet your life?” Jake shot back.
Rachel went on as though her husband hadn’t spoken. “Smith tortured Travis before he killed him. Olivia and a detective were trying to find out Smith’s real identity. But he found them first. It looks like he made sure the pair were unconscious before he scooped them up.”
“Her and the detective, you mean?”
“Yes. Smith doesn’t know Travis is along for the ride. Apparently, he has to stay near Olivia.” She paused for a moment, assessing the situation. “They’ve, uh, bonded in a way that I can’t describe. It’s really quite extraordinary.”
Jake swore under his breath. “And I suppose you want to go charging off to help them.”
“Yes,” she answered in a firm voice.
“And why do you think they won’t attack us?”
“They’re in no position to attack. They’re in trouble.” She glared at Jake in the dim light coming in through the window.
“Have any of the couples we rescued been anything but grateful? And don’t throw Mickey and Kira in my face. I think we both know Kira was a psychopath, and Mickey would have done anything she asked of him.”
She saw Jake clench his fists. “Where are—is it Olivia and Travis?”
“Yes. They’re on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.”
“If we leave now, it’s going to take hours for us to get there. And it might be too late by the time we do.”
“But we have to try. And probably the best couple to take with us are Elizabeth and Matt, if they’re willing. Matt learned his survival skills in Africa. And they both know the area.”
“Baltimore isn’t exactly the Eastern Shore.”
Rachel was already out of bed and picking up her cell phone. “We need to tell the others and see what they think.”