Chapter Twenty-Three
On this episode of Heartfelt High, the school’s only empath struggles when the girl she’s crushing on unexpectedly becomes captain of the field hockey team.
Can an empath find a way to talk to her crush when just the sight of field hockey sticks sends her into a panic?
There was no trace of the pacifist empaths at Archipelago Air’s Bellingham terminal. No trace of them at the Alaska state
ferry terminal or the other piers. Jamey and Liam had gone to the hotel where they had booked rooms, and exactly none of the
empaths had even checked in.
They stood on the curb outside of the hotel together, where the light snow was starting to stick at the sidewalk’s edge. “Son
of a bitch,” Jamey said, aware she sounded very much like Reece. “Who took our empaths?”
Liam shrugged helplessly. “What now?”
“I think you should go get Aisha and Diesel,” Jamey said. “The safe house might be compromised.”
“I can fly up,” Liam said. “You coming?”
Jamey shook her head. “I need to head back to Seattle for Gretel. I’m worried about her, especially if Charles Stone gets wind that Gretel figured out he called her dad and set up that meeting at AMI.”
They kissed, holding each other tightly. “Meet me at home, okay? And be safe,” Jamey said. “I’ll see you soon.”
When Grayson started nearing Port Angeles, he began watching the turnoffs. After a few more miles, he took an unpaved road
off the highway that quickly turned narrow and tree-lined. He followed it south for a couple of miles, then pulled over into
the narrow shoulder and parked.
He glanced at his phone as he climbed out of the Smart car. No signal. Perfect.
Grayson leaned against the car, snowflakes dusting his shoulders and coat as he waited. And sure enough, just a couple of
minutes later, the black Tahoe came barreling down the same road.
Grayson stepped out straight into its path. The Tahoe slammed on the brakes, and Grayson caught sight of the driver.
“Director Traynor?”
Traynor was alive. But what the hell was he doing following Grayson? He strode over to the Tahoe and knocked on the glass.
“Where have you been?” Grayson asked.
Traynor had his phone out and seemed to be typing very quickly. Not that it was gonna do him any good when he wasn’t gonna
be able to contact anyone. Grayson had chosen a spot with no signal for a reason.
Grayson rapped on the glass again. “We’ve been looking for you.”
Traynor didn’t lower the window. He didn’t even look at Grayson.
The close-cropped brown hair and broad build were familiar, even if Grayson had never seen the ex-general with a full beard before, but even through the glass, there was something unfamiliar about Traynor’s movements, something almost robotic.
Grayson’s senses went on higher alert, his muscles tensing. “Where have you been?” he asked again more slowly.
Yet again, Traynor ignored him. And then he wiped at his face.
Grayson peered through the tinted window, and caught a glimpse of streaks of red beneath Traynor’s eyes.
Oh boy.
No one could say exactly how long empath thralls lasted, but the general theory was the more stress you put one under, the
faster they burned out. Traynor had to be pretty stressed to find himself suddenly stranded with Grayson. Add in that they
were a long way from Seattle now, far from whichever empath had thralled him, and the extra hormones forced into Traynor were
likely running way too high.
Grayson considered him for a long moment. Then he said, enunciating each word, “Reece Davies makes terrible decisions.”
Traynor didn’t look up.
“Cora Falcon is hell-bent on vengeance,” Grayson tried, still watching Traynor closely.
Traynor wiped at his eye, his gaze still on the phone.
Grayson cleared his throat. “Alex Grayson—”
“Shut up shut up shut up!”
The Tahoe’s door flew open so hard and fast it came off its hinges. Grayson barely managed to dodge the door as Traynor burst
out of the vehicle, arms outstretched, hands coming straight for Grayson’s throat.
Traynor hit him like a freight train. They slammed down to the ground together, Traynor on top, Grayson’s skull connecting with the dirt.
He ignored the pain, trying to shove Traynor off.
But he was Grayson’s own height, with a heavier build, and far stronger than he should have been from the empathy hijacking his systems.
They fought for several moments, Traynor’s face twisting into a rictus smile as his hands came again for Grayson’s throat.
Grayson twisted, bringing his leg up to smash his boot into Traynor’s side with enough force to finally topple him off.
As Traynor hit the ground, Grayson rolled to the side and grabbed the Tahoe door. Before Traynor could stand, Grayson smashed
it down like a shield, holding it in place with his hands and knee and pinning Traynor under the metal.
Traynor bared his teeth.
“So Alex thralled you.” Grayson didn’t know when that had happened, but Traynor wasn’t going to make it much longer. “Where
is he now?”
“Leave Alex alone,” Traynor said, a rage-infused growl.
“Where is Cora Falcon?” Grayson tried. “Or Reece Davies?”
Traynor’s eyes were bleeding freely now, red tear tracks on his muddy face. “Reece is angry.”
“Angry? Why?” Traynor pushed up against the car door with a renewed burst. Grayson slammed his knee into the metal, shoving
him back down. “Why is Reece angry?”
“Because I’m following you.”
“And?” Grayson said, confused. “Why would Reece be angry about that?”
“Because we were going to kill you.”
“Alex sent you to kill me?”
“No,” Traynor snapped. “Alex said don’t hurt. Just follow.”
None of this was making any sense. “But you just said Reece was angry because you were going to kill me.”
“Not today,” Traynor hissed. “Before.”
Traynor shoved up again. There was more blood on his face now, from his eyes and nose both, his unnatural strength fueled by the empathy destroying him from the inside out. Grayson wasn’t going to be able to keep him under the Tahoe door much longer. “When before?” Grayson said.
“In Vancouver.”
Vancouver? Grayson stared at Traynor. “You were going to kill me . . . in Vancouver?”
“Yes,” Traynor said. “You lied. About Alex. You had to die.”
Go to the location Vivian Marist sent you, Reece had told him that night at the dock.
Marist? Grayson had replied. Surprised to hear you pick Stone Solutions over the Empath Initiative. I was thinking if I had to pick, I’d meet Director
Traynor.
No, Reece had said. Go to Marist.
That night in Vancouver, Reece had sent Grayson to Marist’s location to get him out of the way and clear the path for the
empaths to ambush Traynor. It had worked and they’d taken Traynor with them, somehow keeping him alive and making him their
thrall.
At least, that’s what Grayson had assumed.
“You were going to kill me that night in Vancouver,” Grayson said, half to himself. “But I never showed up.”
“It was Reece in your truck,” Traynor said. “He knew.”
“Reece knew?”
No. Traynor had to be wrong, because that was impossible. How the hell could Reece have possibly known that Traynor planned
to kill him—
But there was one way, wasn’t there?
Reece had damn powerful empathy. He’d been suspicious already, had suspected that Grayson had pissed off Stone Solutions and
the Empath Initiative by taking the empaths’ side. Reece had told Grayson as much, had been worried they weren’t going to
tolerate that from Grayson forever, but Grayson had assumed he was untouchable.
Your arrogance is your biggest weakness, Evan.
The pacifist version of Reece in the truck with Grayson that night hadn’t had a single shred of self-defense. If Reece had
believed someone else was in danger, he would have tried to save them, no matter the potential cost to himself.
And the best chance he would’ve had to figure out where the danger might be coming from was using the corrupted empath’s power
of insight.
Reece had been on the edge between pacifism and corruption for months. If he had believed there was danger to Grayson and
had reached for the power of insight on purpose, that might’ve been the final straw to push him fully into corruption.
Thoughts and memories were rising in Grayson’s mind, insistent and strong. Grayson shook his head, clearing all of it away.
“You said, ‘We were going to kill you.’ Who’s we?”
Traynor only pushed at the car door, growling inhumanly.
“Who were you working with to kill me?” Grayson tried again.
But Traynor didn’t speak. Now blood was running freely from his nose as well as his eyes. He wasn’t coming back. Not from
this.
Grayson stepped back, simultaneously drawing his gun in a rapid motion. Traynor roared and pushed up at the car door. Grayson
fired a single bullet, right in the center of his forehead.
Traynor slumped to the ground, instantly dead. A more merciful death, maybe, than letting the corruption eat away at him for
a couple more hours until it inevitably killed him.
Grayson’s chest felt tighter than normal, his heart beating a little too fast. But then, he was sweaty from the fight, still
breathing hard from the physical exertion.
He got back in the Smart car, starting the engine.
Reece might have sacrificed his pacifism for the chance to save Grayson’s life. Knowing that was exactly the kind of thing
that might’ve given someone else feelings.
So it was a good thing Grayson didn’t have any. However it had happened, Reece was corrupted now, and innocent people couldn’t afford for the Dead Man to forget that.
But if Reece could choose corruption to save you, maybe there is a chance it could be reversed. For Reece—for Alex—for all of the empaths—
Grayson ignored the voice, pulling the Smart car back onto the road. St. James could hope the empaths could be saved; he’d
remember that they needed to be stopped. He’d get Nichols’s research for her so she could keep having hope, and the Dead Man
would stay the empaths’ enemy.