The Elders (Mind Dimensions #4)(80)

I gather more energy and say, “That’s still not the complete truth.”

“What do you want, a full list of my grievances against the Leachers? You probably don’t have enough Reach for me to enumerate them all. The Leachers started this war, not us. Why should their atrocities be forgotten?”

His reply is truthful, if not very informative. He must realize this, because he explains, “I’m not doing this solely for me. I’m here on Mary’s behalf. Markus Robinson killed Henry, her husband. She never recovered from that, as you yourself witnessed.”

The feeling of being erased gets a little stronger as I ruminate on what he just said. That would make Henry, Mary’s husband, my great-grandfather.

“Who the hell is Markus?” I ask. Robinson was my dad’s last name . . .

“He was the father of one of these so-called Enlightened,” George answers truthfully. “Now his son, Paul, will pay with his life, as will the rest of them, putting any notion of peace to rest once and for all.”

As I lose a little more of myself, I process what he’s saying. If Markus is Paul’s father, it means one of my great-grandfathers killed the other. I’m not sure how that’s supposed to make me feel. Did my parents know?

Suddenly, I feel a chunk of me disappear. George used my confusion to his advantage. With a sense of vertigo, I feel as if I’m shrinking. If this continues, he’ll win, and soon.

“Stop fighting me, and I will let you live,” George’s thought arrives, and to my surprise, he’s telling the truth. “I will even let your Leacher girlfriend live if you give up now.”

The offer comes with another mental assault.

Instead of replying, I unleash all the mental energy I’ve been saving during this back-and-forth. When I feel it take effect, I give him my counteroffer. “Stop killing everyone, and I will let you live. Stop fighting me now, and I’ll take it as you accepting my offer.”

He responds with a renewed mental onslaught, but it’s less forceful now.

I need to use his strategy against him.

“Why did you try to have Kyle kill all those scientists?” I ask.

I’m fully prepared to ignore his answer, reminding myself why I need to erase this man.

“If I die, you will never know,” he replies, but his answer is way more fearful than truthful. “Without my work, the Unencumbered will use transformative technology to become uncontrollable—”

I only partially register his words. My goal is to distract him. Instead of listening, I apply pressure again.

I feel something that makes me think my plan is working. George’s mind noticeably gives. I’m assaulted by his emotions—fear, disappointment, and something else, something that might be his belated realization that I duped him.

It’s frightening how intertwined our emotions are. As I destroy him, I almost feel as if I’m losing myself, or more accurately, making him part of me. I feel overwhelming pity, so much so that I’m not sure I can go on.

I need to hold on to myself if I’m to win. I need to push through my doubts. Thus determined, I focus on erasing him some more, all the while reminding myself that if I succeed, I’m merely making him Inert.

The anguish coming from George is maddening. I need to find a way to become unwavering. I need to center myself so I can finish this grisly task.

I turn George’s crimes into a mantra that I repeat in my mind as I attack him. I remember how I felt when Thomas and Mira attacked me at the funeral, when the cops almost shot me, and when I was standing next to Mira and my moms. I channel all that anger and frustration into mentally squashing him.

A wave of mental terror hits me, but I ignore it. I focus on the memory of the time he attacked me in the library. I take the recollection of his hands around my throat and use it to push. I can feel his growing fear and dismay, but I replay the memory of seeing those bloodied monks for the first time and push harder.

“No, please, no,” he begs, and with a tsunami of horror, he gives in a little more.

I replay the scene of Paul getting punched in the stomach and push harder. George’s hold on me shrinks.

Ignoring his desperate pleas and squishing that bothersome feeling of doing something sacrilegious, I remind myself how Thomas was ready to choke Mira to death.

This memory is what does it.

As I channel the threat of losing Mira, I feel George growing smaller and smaller.

I feel frighteningly powerful. Something tells me no mortal should do what I’m about to do, but I ignore the feeling, focusing instead on George’s atrocities for my last mental assault.

After a moment of anguish that seems to last an eternity, I feel the release of crossing that final threshold.

Suddenly, I regain the insubstantiality of Level 2, and George’s mind is gone—and I don’t just mean his neural network that I’ve been fighting. Even the frozen-in-time version of him is gone, which makes sense since he’s now Inert.

Instead of elation, I feel as though I’ve been trapped in a sensory deprivation chamber for a year. I no longer have the sense that I’m floating in Nirvana; instead, it’s as if I’m drowning and falling from a great height at the same time. It’s so disconcerting that if my frozen self were in front of me, I’d be tempted to phase out, the rest of Kate’s team be damned.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Mimir’s tone of thought is sad. “But you have to deal with them.”