Mind Game (GhostWalkers, #2)(21)

Dahlia listened to the sound of the rain. She always found it soothing. Even now, with it pouring down on top of her, she felt she could lose part of herself in it. The part that hurt people. The part she could never control. When she sat out in the rain, it washed her clean. “I feel as if Whitney stole my life. Yet at the same time, I feel as if I should be grateful to him. He built my home and he hired Milly and Bernadette. He also provided me with everything I could need or want. My brain requires. . .” She broke off and stared at the silent trees on either side of them, afraid she might shame herself with tears. She was exhausted and vulnerable, filled with such grief she could barely breathe. She couldn’t even look at Nicolas’s broad back while they walked, not if he wanted to talk about Dr. Whitney.

“You aren’t alone, Dahlia. Whitney brought over a number of children, most infants, from various foreign countries. He found the little girls in orphanages, and he was very wealthy so he didn’t have much opposition. No one wanted the children, so when he paid for them, the authorities closed their eyes and asked no questions.”

Her heart accelerated with every word he spoke. She forced herself to listen to the cadence of his voice. He might not have an inflection, but there was a carefulness, a way he had of speaking that told her volumes. Nicolas was not as unaffected as he seemed. “I was one of those children.” She made it a statement.

“Yes.” He stopped on the small strip of solid ground and surveyed the grove of trees growing in knee-deep water straight ahead. “We’re going to have to cross this.”

Dahlia sighed. “I told you it was difficult. I’m sorry.”

Nicolas turned his head and grinned at her. It was fleeting and barely lit his eyes, but it warmed her. “I think we’re already soaked.”

A reluctant smile touched her mouth briefly. “I guess we are.”

“Is the rain getting the mud off of me?”

She tilted her head. A hint of laughter crept into her eyes. “Actually it’s running down your face in a rather dramatic fashion. I think you’d even manage to scare an alligator.”

“Before you start laughing at me, you might take a look at yourself.” Nicolas made the mistake of reaching out to brush at a streak of mud on her face. At once her amusement vanished and she moved her head to escape his touch. His hand dropped to his side.

“Were you one of those children Whitney took out of the orphanage?” She met his gaze, a dark, almost belligerent challenge.

Nicolas stepped into the water. It was deeper than he thought. He reached back and shackled Dahlia’s wrist, not giving her time to pull away from the contact. She initially resisted, a slight instinctive pull away from him, but he saw her set her jaw and step into the black water right beside him. “I came much later,” he answered matter-of-factly, pretending not to notice her aversion to being touched. The water was over her breasts, nearly to her shoulders.

“What did he do?”

“He had an idea that he could enhance psychic abilities. He thought if he could find children with some signs of talent, he could boost their capabilities and improve on their ability to serve their country. He took the children to his laboratory, hired nurses for them, and conducted his experiments.”

“What exactly did he do to us?”

“Do you remember Lily?” He stopped walking to look down at her.

Her breath caught in her throat. “I didn’t think she was real.”

“She’s very real. Whitney kept her when he got rid of all the others. He told her she was his biological daughter and raised her as such. She had no knowledge of the enhancements, only that she was different and couldn’t be around people for very long. She lived a fairly solitary life. When some of the men in my unit were killed and Whitney suspected murder, he brought her in on the project to try to help him figure out what was happening to us. Peter Whitney was murdered before he could tell her anything. Lily figured it out and helped us all. She’s been looking for all the other girls he brought over from the orphanages ever since. That’s how she discovered the sanitarium and you.”

Dahlia rubbed her temple. “I actually feel sick for her. It must have been a terrible blow to find out the truth about Whitney. I remember her as being so nice. I always felt better if I was with her.”

“She’s an anchor. Like I am. We trap emotions, and to some extent energy, away from the others so they can function better. Is Jesse an anchor?” He slipped the question in deliberately as he turned away from her, tugging her through the water with him.

“I don’t know. He must have been. It was easier to be in his presence. I never really questioned why. I felt calmer and more in control when he was around.”

Nicolas felt a strange burning in the region of his belly. His chest grew tight. “Were you and Jesse close?” His tone was strictly neutral.

She glanced at him, suddenly nervous and not knowing why. “I guess we were. Closer than I am to most people. I don’t know many people. I counted Jesse as family, the same way I did Milly and Bernadette.”

There was honesty in her voice. Innocence. He let his breath escape slowly, not liking himself very much in that moment. He was learning things about himself he had never considered a part of his character before. It wasn’t pleasant. “I’m sorry about the two women, Dahlia. They were already dead when I got there. I managed to take out the man who shot Jesse, but then things got a bit hot.”