Tremble (Denazen #3)(54)

“When I was a kid, I found I could see into people’s heads. Not hear their thoughts or anything like that, but I could get a peek into things that had happened to them. Like, events and stuff.”

“Like memories?” I asked, hopeful.

He took another sip and nodded. “I broke this model my dad kept in his office. Some scale replica of his favorite car. My mom found out. Of course, she planned to tell him when he got home that night and I was terrified. My dad was hardcore. I wanted nothing more than to make her forget the whole thing.”

Ginger leaned back in her chair. “And she did?”

Ben’s gaze rose from the glass. He didn’t look directly at her but focused on the table in front of where she was sitting. “It was like it’d never happened. When Dad came home he found the car in pieces on his desk and flipped. We’re talking nuclear meltdown at Chernobyl—but Mom had no idea what had happened to it. They had this huge fight. I felt guilty and somehow, I gave her memory to him.” Ben snapped his fingers. “Just like that, he knew everything.”

Kale sat at the end of the table, away from the others, watching Ben intently. He hadn’t said anything to anyone since we’d arrived, and vice versa. Truthfully, I think everyone was a little nervous having him at the cabin in his current state. Mom kept sneaking glances his way, hopeful and cautious, while Dax was less subtle. Thankfully Alex was nowhere to be seen. The last thing we needed right now was his snarky barbs and digs.

“A few months ago, I found that not only could I take and transplant memories, I had access to everything. Emotions, reflexes—there was this bully at my little brother’s school. For the big stuff I need to make physical contact, but for little stuff I just need to be in the same general area.” He laughed. “I made the kid piss himself.”

He was talking about a little kid so I shouldn’t have found it funny—but I did. Plus, he was a bully. I hated bullies. “So you’re saying it’s kind of like mind control?”

“I guess you could look at it that way, but it still revolves around memories. For that kid, I made him remember a time he had to take a leak—badly.”

I started to ask about Ben’s parents, but Kale finally spoke up. “The memories you steal—are they gone? Can you return them?”

“Steal is the wrong word, man. I don’t really take them. Think of my ability as a copy machine. I make a copy and black out the original. I can unblock the original or wipe it out completely.”

Kale stood. “Try.”

Ben actually looked up and met Kale’s gaze. The poor guy took one look, jumped from the seat, and visibly paled. “You want me to wipe your head clean?”

“That’s not what he means,” I interjected. “Someone else messed with his head. We were hoping there was something you could do to help him. Maybe unblock what they blocked.”

He relaxed some and sank back into the chair. “I’m sure I can figure out what they did, but I’m not one hundred percent sure I can fix someone else’s work.”

“Would you be willing to try?” Mom asked. She motioned for Kale to come forward and pointed to the empty seat beside Ben. “Please?”

Ben didn’t look too sure of himself, but he nodded.

Kale hesitated, like moving closer to the group might be some trick, but finally relented, eager for Ben to work his magic. “What do I need to do?”

Ben twisted so he faced Kale. He looked uncomfortable, and when he spoke, his voice had a slight wobble to it. “I guess just relax. Try to clear your mind.”

The room held its breath as Ben pressed his right hand across Kale’s forehead and closed his eyes. Moments ticked by, feeling like an eternity. Even Kale was restless, tapping the fingers of his right hand against the tabletop. One. Two. Three. One Two. Three.

“Wow,” Ben breathed, eyes still closed. “Who did this?”

“What did they do?” I was out of my seat and around the table, hovering over Kale in the blink of an eye. “What can you see?”

Eyes still closed, his lips twisted into a confused scowl. “It’s a little hard to decipher. I think… Wait. Say something, Dez.”

“Huh?”

“Talk. Anything. Working with a theory here. Just speak.”

“Um, okay,” I said. “Is this a good theory or a bad one?”

Ben’s hand slipped from Kale’s head, and he opened his eyes. Kale did the same. “Well?”

“It’s like burned pea soup in there, man.”

“That’s not encouraging,” Kale growled. His fingers stilled, wrapping tightly around the edge of the table until his knuckles went white. “And it also doesn’t tell me anything.”

“When I peek into someone’s head, any memories I see usually have this kind of faint glow. Like a backlight.”

“A halo?” I asked.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “Exactly like a halo. So like I was saying, normal memories have this whitish halo. The ones in Kale’s head are dark. Almost black. There are others—the ones with the white glow, too—but they’re dim. Like the dark ones are pushing them out.”

Kale looked away from Ben, eyes falling on me. “Why did you have her speak?”

“I noticed when she spoke, the white ones got a little brighter. It was like something was fighting to break free.”