Mind Games (Mind Games, #1)(44)

I drop onto the couch. “But she should know.” It makes it better. It does.

“I think you’re the only one whose guilt is eased by knowing about Clarice. Don’t pretend it will help Fia. Now, she’s sleeping and I hate to wake her. Is there a message you want me to deliver?”

“No,” I whisper, and hang up the phone.





FIA

Tuesday Afternoon


I’M SITTING IN A LOBBYLIKE ROOM (FIRST FLOOR, two exits—one we came through, the other probably leads outside faster—five windows, freestanding chairs that can break a window or a head) on a couch with Adam. Sarah—brown hair brown eyes is named Sarah—brought me a cup of coffee, a muffin, and some aspirin. No one has a gun on me. No one is expecting me to run.

And…I don’t feel like I should.

“Well, I’m confused.” I lean back into the corner of the couch and tuck my feet up underneath me. I see Adam’s eyes flick to my legs and then away as his face reddens because he is embarrassed he looked, and it is adorable. Also it makes me wish I had a longer skirt on. Or pants. Then he wouldn’t have to be embarrassed. I want to be a girl he doesn’t have to be embarrassed around.

I wonder what it would be like to be with a boy who blushes when he looks at my skin.

“I was confused when they found me, too,” Adam says, grinning. He grins with his whole face. It’s kind of beautiful.

“Yeah, about that. What happened to being dead?” I narrow my eyes and punch him lightly in the shoulder. “I want a refund. I gave you all my money.”

“Oh!” He reddens further and stands up. “It’s in my bag, I’ll go—”

I roll my eyes. He’s so sincere. “Kidding. Sit down. I didn’t want you dead. This works, too, I guess. I just want to know how you got here. You had very specific instructions.”

“We found him yesterday afternoon. I was watching very closely for him, and I saw him going to the Chicago library constantly to check his email.”

Dumb Fia. DUMB. I can’t believe I forgot to tell him not to plan anything and not to be predictable. Tap tap tap my finger on my bare leg, I am so glad he’s not dead.

“So you guys weren’t trying to kill him in that alley.” I glance over at Cole (sitting in a chair—not close like Sarah but near one of the doors—watching the whole room like he isn’t watching it). “Sorry about that.”

He smiles, but, unlike Adam’s, his is a lie and doesn’t touch his eyes. “You didn’t know. And you weren’t the only one who drew blood.” He looks pointedly at my bandaged shoulder, which still hurts but not as much as my head and my head is entirely my own fault.

“Lucky shot.”

This time his smile does touch his eyes.

“So, what do you want with Adam?” I ask.

“We’re very interested in his brain research. Why did the school want him dead? This seems like the exact thing they would be interested in, too. Right now they’re hit-and-miss with finding girls, but if what Adam is working on pans out, it will give us a direct link to women with psychic abilities. It doesn’t make sense for them to order a hit.”

Because Keane wasn’t behind the hit. Annie was. “Keane’s going on advice from psychics. They aren’t exactly reliable.” I don’t mean it as a dig against Sarah and cringe after I say it, but she nods.

“James Keane?”

I frown. “No. His dad.”

“His dad?”

“Yeah, his dad. James isn’t in charge.”

It’s Sarah’s turn to frown. “You mean James doesn’t run the school? He inherited it when his mother died, and we thought…”

Oh, perfect. They have no idea just how far and deep Keane’s reach goes. They’re still focused on the school. What about the stealing, the spying, the blowing people up? I don’t have time for this. “I want to know who you are and why you’re following James and looking for me.”

Sarah crosses her legs and clasps both her hands around her knee. She has pretty hands, safe hands. “As you already know, I’m a psychic, or a Seer. When I was fifteen, a woman named Dayna Keane found me and invited me to attend her school. That night I had a dream that horrible things would happen if I went, so I declined. But I kept seeing the school and the changes there in visions. I’ve made it my goal to disrupt their operations, to rescue girls from them, and to prevent new girls from being manipulated. I think Adam can help me with that. And I’d like you to, if you will.”

“How much good do you do?” They don’t know nearly enough, but I want her to be real and honest and right. I want this to be true. But it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel wrong, not the way the school always felt wrong wrong wrong, but it doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel sick, my heart isn’t racing, I’m not falling. But I’m not…sure. If this was right, wouldn’t I be sure? Wouldn’t I know in my core? Wouldn’t I feel that invisible something tugging me this direction?

“As much as we can,” Sarah answers. “We’re still trying to figure out exactly how far the school’s reach extends. We don’t know what their agenda is; we’ve never been able to track a girl once she leaves the school, though we suspect high-level placement through money and networking. We’re focusing on prevention now, mostly. Keeping girls out to begin with.”