The Thought Readers (Mind Dimensions #1)(36)

“I don’t have time to explain, Darren,” she says, and stops on the second floor. She turns to me and sizes me up, as though looking at me for the first time.

“Listen,” she says, “I won’t make it to the next floor, let alone the apartment. I’m about to fall out of the Mind Dimension—I can already feel myself slipping. Me running here was a desperate attempt. Even if I didn’t pull you in, I wouldn’t have made it. So, I need your help.”

“Of course—what do you need?” I’m scared. I haven’t seen Mira like this before. Sarcastic—yes; angry—a couple of times, sure. Even amused. But not vulnerable like this.

“You have to promise to save my brother.”

“I will,” I say, and it comes out very solemn. “But can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Okay, pay attention. I might not have the time to repeat it. I need you to go into the Mind Dimension, the Quiet as you call it, as soon as my time’s up. Once you’re there, once you’ve stopped time for everyone around you, you have to come back up these stairs and go all the way to the apartment. Take one of their guns on the way—” she points at the men downstairs, “—and shoot the door lock to get into the apartment. Pull Eugene in to join you in your Mind Dimension. Tell him these guys are on their way up.” She says it all in one breath, wiping her eyes and nose with her sleeve. It might be disgusting from anyone else, but somehow Mira makes even this display endearing. “If you pull this off, if you get him out of this f*cking mess, I’ll be forever in your debt.”

“I’ll do it, Mira,” I say, beginning to think coherently. “I promise, I’ll get him out of the building. I’m parked right outside. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Thank you,” she says. The next moment, she’s next to me. She hugs me, and I clumsily hug her back. I don’t know how to act around a woman in such distress. I pat her back gently, hoping it makes her feel better.

Then she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me. The kiss is deep and desperate, her lips soft against mine. It’s completely unexpected, but I return the kiss without a second thought, my mind in complete turmoil. So much for coherent thinking.

“Tell Eugene I’m sorry,” she says, pulling away after a few moments. “Tell him this is my fault. I led them here. They picked me up at the gym, and I had some mail on me.”

“The gym?” I say, a sick feeling in my stomach.

“Yes. I’m so f*cking stupid. I took the mail out of the mailbox in the morning. They found it on me. Our address was on it,” she says bitterly.

“Your gym is how my friend found you,” I admit. “You used one of your older aliases there. I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you that.”

“No, you didn’t know the danger we’re in. This is definitely on me. I should’ve asked you how you found me. And I should’ve changed gyms. We should’ve f*cking moved a long time ago—”

“Where are you now, and more importantly, who are these people? You have to tell me before your time is up,” I interrupt urgently.

“The men in this building are working with the ones who picked me up. I don’t know for sure, but I think they’re all involved with the people who killed our parents. The same Russian crew. The same Pusher is probably pulling their strings. Eugene can tell you more. I’m in the car where the friends of the *s downstairs put me. At first they knocked me out somehow, maybe with chloroform or a shot. I don’t remember. I don’t have any bruises, so I doubt they hit me on the head. When I came to, about twenty or so minutes after, I Split and Read the driver. They gave our address to someone, which led to the group that came here. They work quickly; I didn’t expect them to already be here. The ones holding me are going to this address in Sunset Park.” She hands me a little piece of paper. I commit the address on the paper to memory. “After that, I Split again and ran here on foot. But it was too far. If I hadn’t run into you—”

I phase out before she’s able to finish her last sentence. Suddenly I’m standing downstairs again, next to the still-closing door.

Mira is gone.

As she instructed me, I instantly phase into the Quiet.

I run, even though rationally I know I have plenty of time. Unlike Mira, I can spend an insanely long time in the Quiet.

As I’m running, I digest the fact that after she pulled me in and her time ran out, I got pushed out. This is something I wondered about—what happens if you pull someone in, but then get out of the Quiet yourself. Looks like your guest in the Quiet is tied to you. If you get out, they get out.

My contemplation of the rules of this bizarre new world is interrupted by the people on the stairs. The guy in the leather jacket is back, standing there like nothing happened—which makes sense, since nothing actually has happened, at least not outside Mira’s Quiet session. I take his gun as she suggested. I’m very tempted to Read them, but I decide to do the important part first.

I run up to the fifth floor. As I turn into their hallway, I see Eugene. He’s wearing a ratty hoodie with dorky pajama pants underneath. I fleetingly wonder what happened to the white coat.

He’s throwing out the garbage. I don’t need to shoot the lock off their door after all.

I touch him, and in a moment he’s staring at me, confused.