Whispers in the Dark - Maya Banks [3]
Why do you persist in talking? They’ll hear you. Don’t do anything to draw their attention.
It doesn’t matter whether I draw their attention or not.
The weary thought drifted into her mind, and the knot grew in her throat at the resignation so heavy in his consciousness.
You’re not alone. She pushed the thought at him again. More forcefully this time. Then she cradled him against her, imagined her arms sliding around him to give him what comfort she could.
She stroked her hands over his body and murmured soothing, nonsensical words in his ear. She pressed a kiss to his brow, ignoring the smell of sweat and blood surrounding them.
She didn’t know this man, but she could no more deny him comfort than she could deny anyone who suffered so much.
What she was about to do was dangerous. But how could she not do what she could to give him relief when she had the ability to help him just for a while?
She merged more fully with him, sent herself inside his very soul. She bit her lip to control the cry of agony as his pain swamped over her, through her. His pain became her own.
Tears ran freely down her cheeks as the full extent of his suffering blew over her like a scorching wildfire. It took all her strength and concentration to maintain the link between them.
What are you doing?
His quiet question was full of bewilderment. She could sense his disbelief, even as his body relaxed in brief respite from the discomfort tearing at him. He thought this was some bizarre dream that was a manifestation of his growing insanity. He thought she was a coping mechanism. Something his shattered mind had conjured as a way to cope with his horrific reality.
It took her a long moment before she was able to respond. She lay on her bed, shaking, her nerve endings shooting little jolts of fire through her body as she absorbed the pain from him.
Are you there?
There was hope in the uncertain question. She saw his battle between truth and hallucination and then his acceptance that he didn’t care. No matter whether she was real or not, he desperately hung on to the notion that he was no longer isolated.
I’m here.
Her voice was fainter in his mind now, and he frowned even as he raised his head and stretched his arms above and then around him.
What did you do?
She didn’t respond. It took all her strength to maintain the bond between them, but she could still feel it fading.
What did you do? His question became more strident. She felt a surge of strength through his body as he tested his arms, his hands and then his legs. How could you have done it? Who are you?
I’ll return to you. Her thought was a mere whisper in his mind now. I won’t leave you alone to face this. I swear it.
She caught traces of his frustration just before she let go and retreated from his mind. For a long while, she lay on the bed gasping and shuddering as she tried to process the waves of pain, both physical and mental.
She rolled to her side, pulling her knees to her chest in a manner reminiscent of his own posture in his filthy, dark cell. She rested her forehead on her knees and sucked in breath after breath until finally the pain began to recede.
Her cheeks were damp. The tendrils of hair over her ears were wet from her tears. She staggered to her feet and walked clumsily toward the bathroom, where she splashed cold water on her face.
Who was he? Why was she drawn to him? Why had she heard him amid the millions of other cries in the night? Her gift was so random. Her fist pounded down on the sink. She couldn’t control it. Not like the people who hunted her and her sister wanted.
Shea couldn’t heal others like Grace could. She could only ease suffering for a little while. She could hear people’s thoughts. Talk to them in the same manner. What use was that to anyone?
And yet she was pursued ruthlessly. As was Grace. The two sisters had made a pact. As painful as it was to be away from each other, they’d gone in separate directions, hiding, not contacting each other.
If either sister