Predatory Game (GhostWalkers, #6)(62)
“He mentioned your psychic abilities. You’re using physical capabilities to heal, but not mental. He notes that you should be doing exercises and imagery to form the neural pathways to map out the way from your brain to your legs.”
“I’ve been using visualization. You were the one who told me how to work on it. Whitney is full of crap.”
For the first time, Lily sent him a faint smile. “He says you’re a strong psychic and your brain is very developed, enough that you should be able to form the pathways quickly using visualization through that medium. And I agree with him. You’re using the normal part of your brain as well as physical therapy and we’re leaving out a vital part of what could springboard you to faster health. Also”—she hesitated and glanced at her husband—“he thought we should have used electrical current to stimulate the cells.”
“I’m not certain I like the speculation in your voice, Lily.”
Jess reached out and picked up the file on Saber, flipping through the photographs of her life. She looked so young, so innocent and vulnerable. It made no sense that she hadn’t touched Whitney’s protective streak. How could he look at her and not want to take care of her when she’d been such a beautiful child?
“Jess,” Lily said. “He may be a monster, but we should consider his medical opinion on this.”
“You want to zap me to see whether or not my nerves respond?”
“Well, electrical stimulation did in fact produce results in lizards who don’t normally regenerate a tail.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Lily,” Jess said.
Several of the photographs slipped out of the folder onto the floor, sliding just out of easy reach. Jess sighed and bent down to pick them up. Saber’s hand was there first. It was the photo of her with a small chocolate dog—before and after she’d touched it.
CHAPTER 11
Saber sucked in her breath as she stared down at the photograph in her hands. A strange roaring thundered in her ears. Her heart slammed hard in her chest. There was no stopping the surge of abject humiliation. There she was at eight. Even then there were shadows in her eyes. She could see them. In the series of photographs she was smiling, playing with the dog. By the end she was crying and the dog lay in her lap, lifeless. She still woke up with her heart beating too hard and tears flooding her throat and burning her eyes at the memory of that horrible moment when she realized she had taken that life. She had killed with her touch.
For a moment she couldn’t think—or breathe. The roaring in her ears increased until her eardrums ached. He had exposed the killer in her. Murderess. Assassin. Evil. She had the touch of death. Jess Calhoun, the only person in her life she had ever truly loved, saw her for what she was.
Jess drew emotions like a magnet and hers were overwhelming. She felt so vulnerable, so ashamed, so disgusting—as if she had no right to be walking on the same earth with him. With anybody. She despised what she could do, what she had done, and for him to see it—to know it—was beyond her ability to cope.
She was vaguely aware of Jess’s telepathic touch trying to calm her, to reassure her. She’d been a child. Whitney was the monster, not her. Whitney had forced obedience and he alone was responsible for any deaths.
Saber took two steps back. She wanted to run, but she was frozen. Even her mind seemed frozen. She lifted her gaze to Jess’s. She expected loathing. Fear maybe. But not pity. And that made her angry. More than angry. Enraged at the betrayal. “Damn you. You just couldn’t leave this alone, could you?”
Jess heard the mixture of rage and shame in her voice. Her gaze flicked to the monitor behind him and he shut it off, keeping whatever had to be said between the two of them.
“Saber, you know I had to investigate you.” He struggled to keep emotion—both his and hers—at bay. She looked as if she might shatter into a million pieces.
“I hope you’ve discovered whatever you felt you needed to know.” Her chest was so tight it threatened to implode. Her hand trembled and she tossed the photograph onto the floor in front of his chair. “Everyone’s out of the house.” She struggled to keep her voice calm and even. “But you’ve got a couple of your friends watching out for you outside so you’ll be just fine if you have an enemy nearby. I’m taking off. I can’t stay here.” And she couldn’t—not with him knowing what she was.
“Saber, stop.” He kept his voice low. No challenge, no threat. He shifted his body in his chair, just a slight movement as if easing his position. “This had to come out. You can’t hide from it.”
She lifted her chin. “I wasn’t hiding from it. I lived it.” She held up her palm, fingers spread wide. “What did you want me to say, Jesse? I kill with a touch of my hand? That when I was a child, I was forced to kill animals? That he tried to make me kill children?”
He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “Did he go that far?”
“He forced me to experiment. If I didn’t touch them, he would do something awful to them. I learned to be careful fast, and maybe that was the entire point, but I could have just as easily made mistakes, as I did with the dogs. I couldn’t always stay in control.” She closed her eyes briefly and then glared at him. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I had the right to keep it to myself.”