The Elders (Mind Dimensions #4)(87)

“What happened?” Bert’s voice is an octave higher than Eugene’s.

“Hi, Eugene,” Rose says with a sly smile.

“Do I know you?” Eugene asks, frowning at her.

“No.” Rose’s smile widens. “But I saw you in Darren’s memories. You know, Julia is in the hospital . . .”

And with that, she exits the room, leaving Eugene with a flabbergasted expression on his face.

Not waiting for my friend to recover, I proceed to tell them what happened, including the stuff Eugene already witnessed, even though it’s obvious they heard some of the story already.

“So you gave up your Depth, your powers, to save me?” Mira’s expression is hard to pinpoint. Maybe it’s shock, or maybe it’s something else. Something like gratitude.

I feel warm again, and this time, I know it’s not from the painkillers. Mira’s reaction almost makes the loss worth it.

“Cheer up, dude,” Bert says. “I can’t do what you do, and I’m okay.”

“But you’re like a person born without hearing.” I know I sound gloomy, but I can’t help myself. “Of course you don’t miss something you never had.”

“I read that people who lose their sight or hearing eventually adjust,” Eugene says. “With time, they become just as happy as they were before the tragedy.”

“Zhenya, what did I tell you about your ability to make people feel better?” Mira’s voice is clipped.

Bert’s phone makes an R2-D2 sound, which I recognize as his text message ringtone.

He looks at the phone and says, “Sorry, it’s Hillary. She’s still not sure what to do.”

“How is she? How are my moms?” I ask, belatedly remembering that I had Hillary take them to safety.

“They’re all fine,” Bert says. “But Hillary is unsure if she should tell Sara about your situation.”

“She’s got those smart genes,” I say. “Tell her to bring them here, leisurely, under any pretext other than ‘Darren is hurt.’ I’m sure she can make something up. Once they get here, I’ll handle them. If Sara learns about my fractured rib and other mishaps the wrong way, she’ll end up in this hospital with a panic attack.”

“Got it,” Bert says, and his fingers dance on the phone’s keypad.

I yawn. All this talking is very energy-consuming.

Mira notes my yawn with a frown. She then glances at Bert and Eugene and asks, “Did you two eat anything? Did you sleep?” Sniffing the air, she adds, “For that matter, did either of you shower in the last couple of weeks?”

Bert looks at Eugene as if saying, She’s your sister, dude.

“We’ll go eat now,” Eugene says. He clearly knows how to handle Mira. “Thanks for the reminder, sis.”

After they exit, Mira gets up, walks over to the door, and demonstratively closes it. She then takes a chair and props it up, blocking the door. After that, she turns off the bright hospital lights, sits on the bed, and leans in to kiss me.

I return the kiss, trying my best not to say something unmanly, like ‘ouch,’ as I do. I’m enjoying the kiss, but my ribs are less enthusiastic.

She pulls away and says softly, “Why don’t you nap? The doctor said it was okay.”

“Let me try,” I say, unable to stifle another yawn. “It might not work. I set a record when it comes to sleeping today.”

She says nothing and takes my hand in her palm again.

I close my eyes to test things out. The warmth of her touch mixes with the effect of the painkiller, and I drift off.

As I sleep, I have a recurring dream.

Someone wakes me up, asking if I’m okay, and afterwards, someone sings me a Russian lullaby.





Chapter 29





“If you try eating something, I’ll let you get up,” Mira tells me.

I know Mira well enough to recognize an ultimatum when I hear one, so I don’t bother arguing.

Besides, she’s right. I’ve been feeling pretty weak since I’ve woken up, and especially after I tried phasing into the Quiet and failed—again.

My stomach chooses that very moment to growl, and Mira gives me her signature ‘I told you so’ look.

I examine the hospital food she’s brought me, wrinkle my nose, and say, “I’ll try these pseudo-mashed potatoes that I suspect are made from powder.”

“Good,” she says. “The Jell-O is also pretty decent. I had some myself. Even a hospital can’t f*ck up Jell-O.”

As I eat, Mira gives me an update on what happened while I was sleeping. The news sites are already covering what they think happened at the Temple. As she details the elaborate cover-up the Elders—or more likely, some Ambassador—cooked up, I’m glad Bert isn’t here. Hearing about a real-life cover-up would only encourage his tendency to make up conspiracy theories.

According to the media, some ex-mercenary turned drug lord started a cult in northern Florida. His followers shaved their heads and wore robes like Buddhist monks, and they trained in martial arts as part of their crazy religion. During an inter-departmental police mission to rescue a missing child, the officers came across the cult and their giant mansion/temple. Things escalated from there, turning into an ugly confrontation.