The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions #2)(59)

“Yeah. Caleb offered the help of that Sam guy, but I wasn’t sure about that idea.”

“You did the right thing. Sam and I, we don’t have good history,” she says through clenched teeth.

“Oh?” I ask, hoping that this is not an ex-boyfriend or something along those lines.

“He beat up my brother,” she says angrily. “It was on Jacob’s orders, most likely, but still, there’s no way we’re going to deal with him.”

“Shit. Sounds like we wouldn’t want him involved, for sure. I’ve met the guy twice now, and I know he’s a jackass. I just didn’t realize to what extent.”

We make our way to Mira’s room and find Eugene waiting by the door. She lets us in, and we all grab seats around the room. Loveseat for Mira, an office chair for me, and Eugene sits on the bed.

“I think I should talk to Julia,” Eugene says once we bring him up to speed on the whole situation. “If not Sam, she might know someone else who can help us.”

“If you tell Julia about this, she’ll most likely want to come,” Mira says. “And I suspect you wouldn’t want that.”

“She wouldn’t; she just got out of the hospital,” Eugene says, but there is uncertainty in his voice.

“Even assuming that she would do the prudent thing and not join us, there is another problem with getting her involved,” Mira says. “It might end up pulling her father, Jacob, into this, and I don’t want to do that.”

“Why?” I ask curiously.

“Because of his fear of exposure,” Mira says. “This meeting is happening in a very public place—meaning that there’s a chance that the confrontation with the Pusher could involve a lot of civilians.”

“It’s not like Jacob is this great humanitarian,” Eugene chimes in. “It’s just that, as you learned the other day, he’s obsessed with keeping Reader existence hidden. He’s a Purist.”

“Exactly,” Mira confirms. “The last thing we want is him stopping us from acting.”

“But the three of us stand no chance,” Eugene says, his shoulders sagging. “So we might want to risk talking to Julia.

“The two of us,” Mira corrects. “There is no reason for Darren to join this. It’s not his fight. And not Julia’s either—so no Julia.”

“I’m going to help you,” I surprise myself by saying. “You forget that this Pusher tried to have me killed.”

He also might’ve killed my parents, but I don’t mention this. That might be a topic for later.

“Okay, but that’s still just the three of us,” Eugene says, looking at me gratefully.

The look Mira gives me is harder to read. She seems to be reevaluating me again. I’m reevaluating myself too. Mira just gave me a way out, and instead of taking it, I’m volunteering to join them. And dealing with the Pusher who tried to kill me is only a fraction of my motivation. The bigger part is staring expectantly at me with those beautiful blue eyes.

“There might not just be the three of us,” I say, growing uncomfortable with Mira’s intent stare. “But before I get into that, I need to ask you: what’s a Purist? You said Jacob was one. What does that mean?”

“Purists are Readers who try to stick to archaic traditions, such as assigned mating,” Eugene says bitterly. “Their biggest fears are things like exposure to the outside world and dilution of the Reader blood.”

“The only good thing about them is that they want to exterminate Pushers,” Mira says.

That one hurts. And doesn’t bode well for what I’m building up the courage to tell them. It especially hurts because I no longer think of myself as that kind of Pusher. The Pusher she hates would hate her also if he’s a Traditionalist. It’s ironic how much these Purists sound like the Traditionalists Thomas and Hillary described. I almost regret we can’t get Jacob involved. It would be a sort of poetic justice to let the two orthodoxies fight it out. They sound like they deserve each other.

“Mira,” Eugene says uncomfortably, “you don’t mean that. Darren is a perfect example of why thinking that way is wrong.”

“It’s okay, Eugene,” I say graciously. “I kind of understand Mira’s hatred for Pushers. I mean, I hate the guy who tried to kill me in the hospital. But it’s also a fact that not all Pushers are the same. In fact, I think only a tiny minority are like that f*cker.”

“I didn’t mean you, Darren.” Mira drops her gaze, as if embarrassed. “You’re something else entirely.”

“And if I were as much a Pusher as you are a Reader, would you try to kill me again?” I say, deciding to put my cards on the table.

“You know that I wouldn’t.” She looks at me again. “In any case, you said you don’t even know who or what you are.”

The good news is that she isn’t taking out a gun. Yet.

“Right, I didn’t,” I say carefully. “But I learned more about myself yesterday—and even more just a few minutes ago. Most importantly, I learned that not all Pushers—or Guides, as they call themselves—are the evil monsters you think they are. In fact, most of them are regular people, just like me and you.”

In the dead silence that follows, I tell Mira and Eugene an abbreviated version of what happened yesterday. About my shrink, about my aunt, about Thomas.