The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions #2)(12)

“No,” I say, confused. “Should it?”

“No. Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” He gets up. “Sam will take you back now. I’m happy we’re on the same page when it comes to keeping the Readers’ existence secret.”

He shakes my hand and walks me to Sam, who’s waiting behind the door. Sam leads me back to Caleb, as silently as before.





Chapter 6


“Where to?” Caleb asks me when we turn onto Emmons Avenue again.

“Can you please take me to Mira and Eugene’s apartment?” I give him the address from my phone.

As we fly through the streets, something suddenly hits me. I do know the name Mark. That was the name of my biological father. Could that be the Mark Jacob meant?

If so, could Jacob have known my father?

When Jacob first saw me on Skype, he said I looked familiar. Did he say that because he saw my resemblance to this Mark person? Or is Mark Robinson someone else entirely? After all, Mark is a pretty common name.

I realize I need to ask my moms about my biological father’s last name.

“Here we are,” Caleb says. He brakes suddenly, just about throwing me through the windshield. We’re near the park across the street from Mira’s building. “Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No, thanks. I’ll just rent a car after this. But there is something I want to ask you,” I say, unbuckling my seatbelt.

“What’s that?” he asks. “You had a chance to chat on the way over, you know.”

I ignore his annoyed tone. “What happens to people who display their Reader powers to the world? Jacob warned me to be discreet, but I forgot to ask him about the consequences. What if I slip up?”

“It’s good that you didn’t ask him that.” Caleb furrows his brows. “But to answer your question, all I can say is nothing good would happen. This isn’t a game, kid. It’s deadly serious.”

“Can you be more specific?” I’m irritated at being called a kid yet again.

“If Jacob told me someone had done that, and if there was proof, I’d probably put a bullet in that person. Is that specific enough?” Caleb says, giving me a level look. “It would never happen, though. No Reader has ever been that stupid, and I doubt you are either.”

“But surely someone said something at some point,” I persist. “Or else there wouldn’t be these rules, right? Plus, there are ideas in regular people’s minds that seem like they might’ve originated with us. Where else would the concept of psychics come from? Just think of the term mind reading. And now that I think about it, maybe that’s also where the reincarnation myths originated, or even astral projection and remote viewing—”

“Don’t forget Bigfoot,” he says, looking pointedly at his car door. “Look, I’m no historian. Maybe back in the day, people blabbed, but they don’t now. And I’m sure those that did back then were burned at the stake, tortured, or had something equally unpleasant done to them by the ancient Readers. Our ancestors were pretty hardcore in that regard. Back then, for example, you’d get killed for f*cking someone other than your assigned mate. And they wouldn’t kill just you—they’d kill the person you slept with. I think the reason no one ever does what you describe is that we all know this brutal history. Strictly speaking, no official has ever said, ‘We don’t do that to traitors anymore.’ So I’m telling you the truth: I’ve never heard of any modern-day lapses. We’ve looked into a few psychics who talked about reading minds, but it always turned out to be some lowlife con artist trying to scam people out of money, not Readers doing something they shouldn’t.”

His eyes flash darkly when he mentions the psychics. I wonder what he did to them. I don’t want to ask. I’ve had enough Caleb-related violence for one day.

“Okay, thanks. That explains it, I guess. Now, just one more thing I wanted to ask you,” I say tentatively, unsure how to go about this.

He lifts his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Can I have a gun?” I say it quickly, deciding to just blurt it out. As I say the words, I can’t help staring at his glove compartment.

“You mean that gun?” he says, following my gaze.

“Any gun will do.” I’m happy he doesn’t seem too pissed to learn I’ve been snooping. “That gun’s a revolver. They have simple mechanisms that should function in the Quiet—I mean, the Mind Dimension.”

“Most guns work in the Mind Dimension,” he says. “Fine. Take it—quickly, before I change my mind.”

I grab the gun and exit the car. I tuck the weapon into the waistband at the back of my pants, feeling very gangster all of a sudden.

“Take the coffee too,” he says, handing me the cup. “It was for you. Good luck in there.”

Before I get a chance to reply, he reaches over and shuts the passenger door, almost in my face. Then the car takes off, leaving a faint smell of burning rubber in its wake.

As he leaves, I remember another related question. What happens to the people to whom the hypothetically traitorous Reader tells the secret of our existence? I guess Caleb wouldn’t know, since he’s never dealt with anything like that. Or so he says. I can’t imagine it would be anything good. All the more reason to dissuade the shrink of my earlier revelations. I don’t want her to get hurt—she’s done right by me, even though I think she’s full of shit most of the time.