The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions #2)(62)

“What about you, Darren?” she says, her voice getting a bit softer.

“I have a gun in the glove compartment of the rental,” I say. “But I hope I don’t need to use it.”

“We have to be ready for anything,” Mira says and walks out of the room.





Chapter 26


“You’re going to kill us, Mira.” Eugene is plastered against the passenger door as we run the second red light. We exited the Battery Tunnel just moments ago, but we’ve already flown though five blocks. “Seriously, we’re not that pressed for time.”

“We never should’ve taken that f*cking tunnel,” she says, swerving suddenly. I think she just scared a cab driver—and those guys have seen everything. I’ve always thought they were the ones driving like maniacs, but they’ve got nothing on Mira. Hell, even Caleb isn’t as bad. But she’s still eighteen, and thinks she’s indestructible. I, by the way, never had that delusion. I’m only too aware of how destructible I am.

“There was traffic leading up to the bridges,” Eugene mumbles, still defending the suggestion he made earlier to take the tunnel.

The constant bickering Eugene and Mira engage in makes Mira’s horrible driving an even worse experience. They argue about how fast she should drive, which cars not to cut off, and the best route. Until now, I thought my moms were the worst people to be in a car with, but apparently I was wrong. Is this how all siblings behave, or am I just lucky to be in a car with a particularly bad example?

The rest of the trip lasts about three deep breaths, and then Mira swerves into a parking garage, tires screeching. I estimate that she enters it at about thirty miles per hour, but I could be lowballing it.

When I open the car door, there is a definite smell of burned tires.

As she hands the valet the keys, the expression on the guy’s face is priceless. I give him a hundred-dollar bill to get him out of his stupor and instruct him to wait at least twenty minutes before parking the car. We might return right away if we decide to drive to the Brooklyn Bridge after our talk with Thomas.

We run from the garage to the meeting spot. Despite the tenseness of the situation, I notice the beautiful view. It’s soothing to see the old ships anchored here at the Seaport, and it makes me wonder about the days when this was an active port. Near-death experiences seem to do that for me—they bring out my sentimental side.

It’s a nice Saturday afternoon, and we’re soon confronted with a crowd of people. They’re mainly tourists, but there are some locals here as well. Mira makes way for us through the crowd, rudely elbowing everyone aside.

We’re near the corner of the meeting spot, near the benches looking out onto the water, when the world goes silent. The crowds around us freeze, as do Mira and Eugene.

“Hello, nephew,” says a familiar, high-pitched voice. “You should really return my calls.”

Hillary is standing next to my frozen self, with her hand on the frozen self’s cheek. Thomas is standing next to her.

“You called me?” I say, surprised to see her there.

“Yeah, like twenty times.”

“Sorry I missed it. I was too busy keeping my lunch in my stomach. Mira’s driving is insane.” I’m finally getting rid of the strange shock that accompanies forced phasing. It’s always spooky being in the Quiet in a crowded and noisy place like this. My brain expects people to start walking and talking, but they don’t. Being pulled into this state without warning makes the disorientation worse.

“Which one is Mira?” Hillary examines a couple of pretty girls.

“Who’s Mira?” Thomas peers at the crowd. “Is that one of the Leachers you mentioned?”

“I didn’t fill him in yet,” Hillary says. “You might want to tell him the full story.”

Before I tackle the mystery of Hillary’s presence, I do as she suggests and tell Thomas everything. I have to give Thomas his due. He doesn’t freak out about having to deal with Readers, unlike my Russian friends’ reaction to working with Guides. He also takes in stride the fact that I’m a weird hybrid of both groups. I suppose his upbringing—not being part of the Guide community from birth—can explain it. Still, bigotry is all too easy to adopt, so the fact that he seems to have an open mind on the matter only reinforces my positive impression of him.

“So which one is she?” Hillary says. “I’m going to die of curiosity.”

“There,” I say, pointing at Mira. “The one who’s slicing through the crowd like an impolite knife through butter.”

“Very pretty.” Hillary smiles her approval. “But then I assumed she would be.”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “Can I bring her in? That guy with glasses is Eugene, her brother.”

“Hold on,” Thomas says. “Let’s talk privately first.”

“Okay,” I say, “now that I’ve explained myself, why don’t the two of you tell me why Hillary is here?”

“If you took my calls, you’d know my reason for being here.” She gives me a determined look. “I’m joining this mission.”

“What? No, you’re not.” I turn to Thomas. “Tell her it’s not happening.”

“You need me,” Hillary insists, and Thomas nods.