The Elders (Mind Dimensions #4)(27)

I take a mental snapshot of the place as I hurry down to the valley below.

As I get closer, the sheer size of the structure hits me. The Castle dwarfs some of the skyscrapers we have in Tribeca.

“George,” I say over my shoulder, “how can this place be secret?”

“The Elders have their ways,” he says, sounding almost mischievous.

I’m not sure what impresses me more: the architectural achievement or the Elders’ ability to keep such a thing secret.

Standing right under the Castle, I feel small and insignificant, and I wonder whether that’s the intended effect. The gates are wide open, so I follow everyone inside.

The fountain in the center of the courtyard is frozen in the middle of a majestic water display. In general, splashing water looks very cool when stopped mid-air. In this fountain, the effect is emphasized, making the droplets look like multifaceted diamonds.

Surrounding the fountain are over a dozen familiar-looking people. Some are sitting on the edges of the marble fountain border, while others are just standing around. I recognize them from the statues I saw earlier.

They must be the Elders.

Every one of their ancient eyes is on me, staring so intently that I fleetingly wonder whether they have powers I haven’t yet dreamed of, like X-ray vision. After what I’ve seen, I’d be only mildly surprised.

“George, Kate, feel free to pull in any friends you’ve missed since your last visit,” Frederick says, clearly dismissing them.

Silently, my companions leave.

The stares continue long after George and Kate are out of earshot. They seem to be allowing each other the honor of speaking first, a condition I usually call a ‘politeness deadlock.’

“So, Elderly ladies and gentlemen,” I say, deciding to break the silence. “What’s up with all those guns your people are pointing at me outside the Mind Dimension?”





Chapter 9





“It’s a rather unfortunate situation, for sure, but our safety demands it,” says an older-looking Elder. He appears to be in his mid-fifties, but his bushy salt-and-pepper beard might be adding a few years.

“Gustav is ever diplomatic, whilst I am not,” says a woman with a face whiter than the marble of her statue. She’s stunning, despite being at least ten years older than me in biological years. Just like with all of them, her eyes betray a much longer lifespan. “We know what you are.”

My heart sinks. I can guess what she’s talking about, but I still ask, “What do you mean, what I am?”

“Victoria, dear, please refrain from any xenophobic remarks,” Gustav says. “What he is has nothing to do with our precautions.”

“If I may,” says Louis, Frederick’s identical twin. “Victoria is not entirely wrong. There’s a correlation between his nature and our concerns.”

“I see a correlation between life experience and verboseness,” I put in.

Frederick’s subtle smile returns, and his brother actually chuckles.

“You’re right, lad,” says Gustav. “Let me get to the point. We know that your father was a Leacher. That, in and of itself, is not why we took precautions. If anything, it’s why we have taken the risk to see you at all. We took precautions because we know you visited the Leacher compound in Brooklyn, New York, on several occasions.”

“Twice,” Frederick corrects. “That’s not exactly ‘several.’”

“Right, but the compound was, until recently, run by a man named Jacob—a man who hated Guides with a passion,” Victoria adds and gives me a sensuous smile.

Everyone goes silent for a moment. They also avoid eye contact with me, creating a pretty uncomfortable situation.

I can’t believe how well informed they are, especially for people who live on an island that’s who knows how far from New York. I’m tempted to tell them that far from being in league with Jacob, I was instrumental in his downfall, but I don’t. That information is intimately linked with Kyle’s death, and the person who used Kyle as her puppet might well be in front of me now.

“The others are being polite, but I will come out and say it: we need those guns in the likely case that you work for the Leachers,” says the one Elder who doesn’t look much like his statue. His statue made him look as though he were in his late twenties, but in person, I’d guess him to be a decade older. He’s also much thinner than the statue, and without the hat the statue had on, his bald head is on full display, with small tufts of long, mousy hair tucked behind his ears.

“You have to forgive Alfred,” Frederick says. “He’s almost neurotically blunt.”

“I know my history, so I am best qualified to speak on these matters,” Alfred says pedantically. “Leachers want us dead. Someone who’s been to their compound would have been exposed to their propaganda.”

I wonder whether I can exploit their animosity for the Readers. They might want to help me when they find out that ‘Leachers’ kidnapped people I care about, including Thomas, a Guide in the Secret Service.

“He seems like a young man with a brain,” Frederick says. “I am sure a little propaganda couldn’t have done much damage.”

“Propaganda requires respect for authority,” I say. “I prefer arguments based on reason.”