State of Mind - 4. Chapter 4

It took Grier just over an hour to cross New Jersey. He followed the interstate until the highway became a small two-lane country road. It ended in a sleepy community, a pretentious little town where the wealthy of Manhattan spent their weekends, complete with cobbled streets and a Starbucks on every corner. Storefronts mimicking those of Colonial times were framed by gas lamp-lined sidewalks. A lake stretched the length of the valley below, its shores dotted with colorful boathouses.

Grier was too furious to appreciate any of it. He'd almost been caught, and by an agent whose experience couldn't possibly match his own. Even more infuriating, despite everything, he was still fascinated with Jeremy, or whatever his real name was. The boy had been able to hide his gifts, and Grier wanted that power for himself.

His survival depended on it.

The lakefront cottage looked as it had in the pictures from the real estate agent. Grier had rented it sight unseen the day he'd arrived in New York, anticipating the need for a hasty escape at some point. Musty with the smell of the lake, its stark plaster walls and crisscrossing oak ceiling beams lent it an abandoned feel. A half-dozen sturdy pieces of furniture left behind by the previous tenant dotted the living room. Grier made a hasty tour of the house, raised the heat against the late spring chill, and deposited his bag on one of the two chairs in the dining area.

When Jeremy woke, Grier would tell him the truth – that would be a novel experience for the lad. If that failed, he'd try to sway him in other ways. He prayed Jeremy wasn't one of the Organization's hive-minded; Grier didn't want to kill him.

More exhausted by the second, he fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone. Time to call in some favors. Loathe as he was to involve anyone else, he doubted Keev would mind; he took a perverse amount of pleasure in screwing the Organization whenever the opportunity arose. As Grier dialed, he gave another mental nudge to his prisoner, but there was no response.

A long pause preceded any ringing – a positive sign. Keev was where Grier needed him, which at the moment would be anywhere outside the United States.

"Speak to me," an aristocratic voice answered. Grier rolled his eyes.

"It's official, Keev. You've forgotten every drop of etiquette your mother ever managed to teach you."

"Grier!" A flurry of static burst over the line. Grier heard the rise and fall of voices, then a door being opened and closed. The voices faded, and the dull roar of the ocean replaced them. At least Keev was trying to give himself some privacy. Propriety wasn't his forte.

"Grier!"

"You've said that."

"Well, I'm saying it again, you idiot!"

"Keev, I don't think the people next door to me heard you. Why not yell my name a little louder."

Personal experience had taught Grier some hard truths over the years. Most important, and relevant to this situation, was that everything came with a price. Keev would want something in return for his help. His demands, though, were never unfair. And Grier trusted him.

"All right, I'll play along," Keev said, chuckling. "How are you, Gertrude?"

"I've had a hell of a day, Edna."

"I prefer Anastasia."

"I'm sure you do," Grier replied.

More laughter crackled through the earpiece. "Remember that time—"

"I need a favor." It was prudent to cut to the chase with Keev. He was as distractible as a child, and Grier couldn't afford that at the moment. "Are you listening?"

"I'm all ears, Gertrude."

"I need to leave the country."

"What country are you in?"

"Don't play coy with me. You know exactly where I am."

*~*~*

Eighteen hundred miles away, Keev braced himself against the balcony wall and squinted at the calm, blue waters of the Caribbean. Uncanny how his thoughts had been on Grier just five minutes ago. Scowling, he smoothed back his shoulder-length blond hair and flicked a speck of lint from his shirt.

Keev believed in three basic covenants: the easy way was always best; despite what most people thought, the best laid plans could be brought to fruition; and lastly, there was such a thing as coincidence. Take now, for example. "I was just thinking about you," Keev admitted.

"I'm sure you were."

"Not like that. Although you know I'm always open to such things." He glanced over his shoulder. Inside the house, his guests partied on, oblivious to his absence. With practiced ease, he stepped out of sight between two large potted palms. "Still there?"

"It would seem so. Although I'm growing grayer by the second. Did you perhaps not hear the part of our conversation where I said I needed help? I meant now."

"You're such a prick, Grier," Keev replied with genuine affection. "Listen – I know you're in the States. Everyone knows you're in the States, but they don't know where. The Organization has tracked you that far, but I've heard nothing new since Saturday."

"They found me."

"Already?"

"Yes. And don't press for details. You won't be getting them right now. I need passage out of the country – for two people."

Something banged against the glass door, and Keev peeked around the palm. Two women stood at the window, looking left and right, searching. Smirking, he drew back. He'd chosen a lime-colored silk shirt and white linen slacks that morning and blended into his hiding place beautifully. He'd almost worn black, but at the last moment something had made him choose the green — karma did adore him. "Two people?"

"I believe that's what I said." There was a slight pause. "Where are you?"

"St. Barts."

"Your father?"

Keev flicked a frond out of his face. "He's in Europe. You can speak freely."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that. Roman can sense trouble halfway around the globe."

Keev took a deep breath. Coincidence or not, he planned to take advantage of the situation. He needed to pick Grier's brain. Something was happening, and Keev's father was in the middle of it. Furthermore, the Organization was involved. That was sure to interest Grier.

"I'll get you out. But I'm bringing you here."

"Are you mad?" Grier hissed.

"I need to talk to you."

"I have my own problems at the moment."

"That's my price," Keev insisted. "Safe passage for you and your tagalong. You can go anywhere you like after you stop here. And stop being such a bastard. You'll want to hear this, trust me."

Silence, but for static, followed his statement. Keev waited.

"Why would anything you have to say interest me?" Grier asked, all emotion absent from his voice. He sounded exhausted.

"Let's just say your problems and my problems are related." Keev paused. He needed a hook, and the truth fit the bill. "It seems my father, representing the collective Gifted not under Graviel's thumb, has extended an olive branch to the Organization."

Grier snorted. "Impossible."

"Believe me, my friend. The massacre at the peace summit was only the beginning. My father's in Europe, as I said. You'll be safe here for a few hours. Then I'll arrange for you to go anywhere you like. Do we have a deal?"

Static crackled through the line for several seconds. "We do," Grier answered, sounding more tired than ever.

*~*~*

Grier ended the call and melted back into his chair.

He was out of options. If agreeing to a play date placated Keev, Grier would go. Not that he believed for one second that Roman was cozying up to Graviel. Many years ago, when Keev had manifested as a Gifted, Graviel had tried to recruit him – to Roman's extreme annoyance. Keev's father despised the Organization. There was a history there, one Grier wasn't privy to.

Shaking off his unease, he stood. Time to deal with the mysterious Jeremy.

He checked that the young agent was still unconscious before opening the trunk and hoisting him over his shoulder. The front door was ten steps away. Too far for Grier's taste. Just because he couldn't see the neighbors didn't mean they couldn't see him. He carried Jeremy's limp body inside, then cast out, searching for a spike in curiosity or fear from anyone nearby. Nothing. Grier grunted in satisfaction.

He propped Jeremy up in one of the wooden chairs and secured his hands and feet. A stopgap, nothing more, but if Jeremy didn't cooperate, the bonds would slow the boy enough that Grier could overpower him – for good this time.

After he'd fastened the plastic handcuffs, he retrieved a syringe from his bag. Barozene – it was one tool he always had on hand. Some Gifteds, including Graviel, called him crazy. He called them short-sighted. Over the years, he'd employed the drug many times, though never quite like today.

He injected Jeremy, then retreated across the room. Now or never. He awakened the other man with a sharp mental prod.

*~*~*

Disquiet plagued Aleck as he woke. Groggy, he tried to stretch, but his limbs wouldn't cooperate. He jerked his arms, hissing when sharp cuffs cut into his wrists. The back of his head throbbed, and his shirt collar was tacky and clinging to his neck. He could smell blood.

"Welcome back."

Aleck stopped struggling. As familiar as the voice sounded, he couldn't place it. Woozy and disoriented, he peeled his eyes open. The blurry figure across the room sharpened into a wary-looking Grier Crist.

"You hit me," Aleck deduced.

Grier's arched eyebrow challenged the inanity of the accusation, but he didn't speak. Aleck rolled his head, assessing the damage. The blurred vision could be blamed on the head injury, but the bitter taste on his tongue was something else altogether. Barozene.

"And drugged me."

Grier lowered himself into a chair. He crossed one leg over the other. "I called you bad names too."

Aleck squinted at him. "Did you insult my mother?"

"Not that I recall."

"I'll let you live." Nausea swelled in Aleck's gut. He swallowed it back with a low groan.

"How do you feel?"

"Dandy." Aleck tested the cuffs at his ankles, even though the movement made the nausea worse. Bound, his gifts impaired by the drug, he had few options. Barozene was the Organization's Achilles' heel – the one chemical that could suppress a Gifted's talents. Every agent trained with it, and Aleck knew how long an average dose would affect him.

He'd never thought to have it used against him by one of his own.

Grier seemed content to watch him suffer. Aleck tuned out his smug smile. Years of training kept him calm and focused. He closed his eyes and reached for Nora. Barozene made the simple task as difficult as slogging through quicksand, but a few seconds later, he found her. It was a joyless victory. He was too drugged to communicate, and the strain kicked his headache up another several notches. An involuntary moan slipped past his lips. His roiling stomach threatened to rebel.

"Here," Grier said.

Aleck opened his eyes. Grier was close, holding a tall glass of water in front of Aleck's face. He considered refusing, but the promise of cool liquid pouring down his throat was impossible to resist. He opened his mouth, Grier tilted the glass to his lips, and he drank his fill. He half-expected Grier to pull back at the last second, rescind the offer, but he kept the glass to Aleck's lips until he was finished.

"That was a stupid thing to do," Grier said as he backed away and set the glass on the table.

"Which part?"

"All of it. I believe I may have overestimated you. Well, your intelligence at least." Aleck ground his teeth at the tone. It was easy enough to be condescending when your enemy was bound and drugged. Arrogant prick.

A wry smile proved Grier had heard his thoughts. "I was speaking of your attempt to contact your Monitor. Was the pain worth being able to fondle your security blanket for a few precious seconds?"

Aleck remained silent. Grier circled behind his chair. "What's your real name?"

Aleck ignored the question.

Grier leaned over his shoulder. His breath tickled Aleck's ear. "I could rip it from your head, you know. But believe it or not, I don't wish to add to your already considerable headache. Now, what is your name?"

Aleck considered. Grier was right, of course. He could take the information any time he wanted. It was a tiny thing – his name – but capitulating wasn't something Aleck enjoyed. "Devlin."

Grier made a small sound of satisfaction. "First name?"

"Aleck."

The questions ended. Grier hovered for a moment, then retreated across the room. His chair, Aleck noted, was a full twenty feet away, on the other side of the archway that separated the living and dining rooms. Both areas were devoid of knick-knacks. The glass of water was the only potential weapon in sight.

Grier didn't take chances.

Tired of the games and the pounding headache, Aleck let his eyes fall closed. The sickness was beating down any attempt to ignore it, and he feared he'd soon lose what little he had in his stomach. His skin grew clammy. Pain slashed through him like a wild animal, clawing through his head, down his neck, then into his fingers and toes. Sweat dripped between his shoulder blades.

He heard a chair scrape. Footsteps approached. Maybe Grier was coming to put him out of his misery. He'd almost welcome it at this point.

"When were your last meds?" Grier asked, in front of him once more.

Aleck fought to remember. "This morning."

"Do you have them with you?"

Did he? The pain had shattered his ability to think. "I—"

Grier's hands came to rest on the sides of his head, and Aleck gasped.

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you." Impaired by the Barozene, Aleck couldn't sense the focused burst of energy Grier must have sent, but the throbbing pain retreated a half dozen levels. Aleck whimpered in relief. "Simpleton," Grier mumbled as he backed away.

"Thank you," Aleck said, confused by the kindness.

"You're welcome. Feeling better?"

"Yes. Some." Though if Grier was hoping to win Aleck to his side with acts of mercy, he was wasting his time.

Grier took his seat. "It's temporary. As long as you're hosting a Monitor, the pain will come back."

Aleck shrugged. Old news.

"Why not break the connection?"

"I would never do that!" Aleck shook himself, caught off guard by a man who would heal him in one second and suggest murder in the next.

Grier cocked his head. "Why ever not? She can't help you right now. You have no idea where you are. Wouldn't you benefit from a clearer head? Think better without the pain?"

"Not as the expense of her life!"

Grier's eyes widened. "Aleck," he said, "severing the bond with your Monitor can be excruciating. But it isn't fatal." He let the words sink in. "Who told you that it was?"

He could be lying. He had to be lying. "I don't believe you," Aleck said. Grier's expression softened with sympathy, and a cold ball of dread formed in Aleck's gut.

"Just how many other misconceptions are you harboring, I wonder?"

Aleck sucked in a breath, cursing the anger that burned through him. How was this man able to push all his buttons? His cocksure disposition, probably. Graviel had said he was arrogant.

How to sway him?

The stray thought had come from Grier. Aleck kept his face blank, hiding his glee. The Barozene must be wearing off. If he could distract Grier from that fact, he had a chance. Aleck pasted on a smile. "You're trying to get me to question myself. I won't do it."

Grier sat back in his chair. "Very well. Cling to your lies." He tapped his fingers on his knee. "What is your current assignment?"

Aleck clenched his jaw shut.

"The Organization's still growing them headstrong, I see. Let me guess. Locate and report my whereabouts."

Silence was Aleck's answer.

"Don't bother denying it. I know I'm right. You're a field agent, not an assassin." Grier leaned forward in his chair. "You lack the killer instinct."

"They weren't going to kill you—"

"Please," Grier interrupted, "don't insult my intelligence. I gather your contacting me wasn't a designated part of your mission."

Aleck dropped his eyes.

Body language, Aleck. You're giving yourself away.

Aleck's head shot up, and Grier's eyes widened when he realized Aleck had heard his thought. "Fighting through the drug already?" He pushed a hand through his hair, the first sign of frustration Aleck had seen.

"It wasn't a stipulation of the assignment to make contact with you," Aleck replied, ignoring Grier's previous question.

"I didn't think so." Grier mumbled. "Then why did you?"

"I make my own rules."

"This is no time for jokes."

Aleck jerked at the cuffs, but they held. "My mind is my own!"

"Is it?" Grier's face grew pensive. "We'll see." He tilted his head back, taking a deep breath, and for the first time Aleck noticed a jagged scar bisecting his throat. "Would you like to know why I've been disavowed?" he asked, implying the obvious reason wasn't the real reason at all. Exactly what Aleck's instincts had told him at the very beginning. Intrigued in spite of his current predicament, Aleck nodded. "Very well," Grier said. "Is it possible for you to listen without interrupting?"

"I'll do my best."

"Your record in that regard doesn't inspire a lot of faith."

What could Aleck say to that? Nothing. Except, "I won't interrupt."

It should have been a clear signal to begin, but Grier didn't. Silent, he frowned at his folded hands. Aleck counted off the seconds, content to let the drug work through his system while Grier gathered his thoughts.

"The summit two weeks ago," Grier said, pushing the words out with a visible effort.

At the mention of the massacre, a directionless tide of anger rose in Aleck. Nearly a hundred people had been killed. "Terrorists," he spat. "We were too late to prevent it."

Grier rubbed the back of his neck, but he didn't shy away from Aleck's stare. "I'm responsible."

Truth, Aleck's instincts told him. His stomach turned over in disgust. And also disappointment – part of him had wanted Grier redeemed.

Grier read him easily. "Condemning me already? You've yet to hear my side of the story."

"But—"

"I tried to stop it."

Aleck flinched at the tortured tone.

"Believe me, Aleck." His hands were locked around each other, the knuckles white. "I've always worked under the same precepts you have, and for many more years. I've never killed another person."

Aleck had. More than once. "Then you've been lucky." Or maybe just very good at what he did. Better than most. Better than Aleck.

"I have been," Grier agreed. If he'd picked up on Aleck's self-pity, he gave no sign. He unfolded his hands and laid them, palms down, on his knees. "My assignment was to infiltrate a splinter group that was rumored to have targeted the summit. I achieved this. My show of loyalty was to help assassinate the key leaders in attendance. It was, as you can imagine, a complicated plan. Security was impenetrable."

Not for a Gifted, it wouldn't have been. It went without saying, so Aleck kept quiet.

"The Organization's goal… my goal… was to demobilize the terrorist group and corral the ringleaders."

"When they were all more or less together. On the night of the attack."

Grier nodded. He didn't chastise Aleck for speaking. "That night," Grier paused and swallowed, "my instructions were to clear a path through security for those planting the bomb. I did so. I'd planned to return and disarm it once the arrests were underway." Grier fumbled for the empty water glass.

"Get some more," Aleck suggested, but Grier shook his head and replaced the glass on the table.

"I was tricked."

"Tricked?"

"Detained." He spat the word out as if it were poisonous.

"By our people," Aleck inferred, incredulous.

Grier stared him down, willing Aleck to deny it. "They held me there despite my protests. When I tried to leave against their wishes, I was restrained. I managed to escape, but not in time."

"Jesus." Floundering – because damn it to hell, Grier's words rang with conviction – Aleck grasped at straws. "Just how much of this do you expect me to swallow?"

"All of it." His tone had a finality to it. These were the facts, as Grier knew them. Aleck could take or leave them. His call.

Nora's voice gained strength with each passing moment. The drug had run its course. Aleck examined the plastic cuffs, then focused his mind. They snapped at once, and needles of pain stabbed through his calves. His arms fared the same. Aleck rolled his shoulders and stretched his legs out in front of him.

Grier's only reaction was to sigh.

Aleck gave him a verbal nudge. "If all this is true, then who's responsible?"

"I don't think you want to know."

"How do you know what I want?"

Grier paused. "It was Graviel," he said, voice gritty.

Aleck blinked. "Who?"

"You heard me."

Surprise pushed Aleck to his feet, and he had to grab for the chair back when his legs threatened to give. "That's ridiculous."

Grier's gaze never wavered. "It's the truth."

"I don't believe it. He would never…."

"He would never what?" Grier rose and paced the room. "Twist the truth? Bend the rules? Compromise his ethics? Well, I can promise you, he's done all of that and more."

"I would have sensed any duplicity." Aleck was certain.

Grier stopped short and swiveled to face him. "Would you have?" he asked. "Open your mind, Aleck. You'll see the truth."

"My mind is open," Aleck said "As much as you've let it be with your drugs. I won't turn my back on a man who's been like a fath—" He cut himself off too late.

He expected Grier to latch on to his slip. Embarrass him. Expose his bias. Grier did none of those things.

The setting sun had thrown the house into shadow. Grier retreated into the dining nook – far enough into the gloom that Aleck had trouble judging his expression – and stared out the window at the choppy water. "My father liked to gamble," he said.

Alex blinked at the non sequitur.

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you where I spent most of my Saturdays, once he knew what I could do." Grier's hand clenched, and for a moment, Aleck worried for the window, but all Grier did was place his fist against the pane. "Graviel took me away from all of that."

So they shared a dysfunctional childhood. Many Gifteds had similar stories. Families that didn't understand. Parents that took advantage. It wasn't enough. Aleck hobbled across the floor, closing the distance between them. "You're laying the blame on his shoulders a little too easily for my tastes."

"Easily!" Grier spun on him. "He's manipulated us from the beginning. Kept us tired and clouded. I suppose he tells you there are no ill-effects from constant monitoring."

Aleck lifted his chin. "He's always been upfront about the side-effects."

"I'm sure." Grier leaned back against the window and crossed his arms in front of him. "Do you remember what it feels like to wake up rested, Aleck? No? How about going more than a day without your happy pills?"

"Fuck you."

"Whatabout sex, since you've brought it up? When was the last time you had it? For Christ's sake, when was the last time you wanted to?"

No way in hell was he answering that question. Before he could deflect, Nora's voice sounded in his head. Aleck?

Aleck faltered when the brief contact fanned the flames of his headache. Taking a shaky breath, he pressed his fingers to his temples.

"Ask her," Grier said.

"Ask her what?"

"You know what. Ask her about breaking your connection. See what she says."

"I know what she'll say," Aleck said through the reawakened pain. "She knows the consequences."

Grier hissed and turned back to the window. "Blind, ignorant fool," he mumbled.

Blind and ignorant. Two things Aleck swore he'd never be again. Grier's intimate knowledge of his emotional triggers was sinister. A test, then. Nora, he answered.

Thank God. Nora's relieved voice sliced through his head like a jackhammer. Aleck winced. Report.

I'm in trouble, Aleck replied.

How can I help?

Tell me the truth. He eyed Grier, but the man never moved. Spine ramrod straight, he kept his back turned and his eyes on the lake. Nora's answer was long in coming, and Aleck's flicker of doubt grew.

Okay, Nora said, wary.

He's going to kill me if I don't break our connection, Aleck lied. But I won't do it if it means your death. A pregnant silence ensued. Nora?

Don't break the connection, Aleck. You'll be alone.

"You won't be alone."

Startled, Aleck realized Grier was watching him again. I'll be dead, so it won't matter, Aleck said, continuing the ruse.

There must be another way.

No, Aleck said. There's no other way. Now – the truth. Will you die if I break our bond?

She didn't answer, and Aleck felt his perfect little world begin to crumble. Nora?

No, Aleck. It'll hurt like hell, but it won't kill me.

Aleck's breath left him in a rush. He reached out, steadying himself on the window sill.

Aleck?

"Break it," Grier said.

Aleck tilted his head back against the glass. His heart was racing – with anger, he realized. "Why didn't I ever see it? Why didn't I ever sense it?"

Grier put his hand on Aleck's shoulder. "You didn't want to. You never questioned what Graviel told you, so nothing rang false."

But it was all false. All questionable. His entire adult life could be a sham. "I don't want to believe it," he whispered.

Grier's fingers pressed into his skin. "Please, Aleck. You say Graviel can't be responsible for these things. Perhaps you're right."

Aleck grabbed at the words. "You don't really know what's going on, do you?"

Grier shook his head. "You need the truth? I'll do what I can to help you uncover it."

For a price, Aleck was sure. "You want something from me in return."

"We both want something," Grier admitted. "You might even say those somethings will determine the course of the rest of our lives – as short as they may be. Whatever's happening, it's bigger than you and I. It goes deeper than a sabotaged peace summit. It involves the Organization." He paused. "It's time for you to decide. Are you going to crawl back to Graviel for another round of corruption and lies? Or are you ready for the truth?"

The truth. Aleck knew it could go far beyond a painful breach of trust. Every assignment was now suspect. Every life he'd taken was in question. Had any been innocent? The odds were high. Too high to accept.

Aleck? Aleck?

"I'll do it," Aleck said. "And God help him if I don't like what I find." Even through his haze of anger, he felt Grier's reaction: a combination of acceptance and relief. And on the periphery, concern over Aleck's rage.

"However you find you've been wronged, remember your training, Aleck."

That was rich. "What part?"

"The part that taught you responsibility."

Another of Graviel's axioms: gifts were for the principled. Good thing irony was always up for grabs. Still, he wouldn't break his connection without warning Nora. Despite her part in the deception, despite her lies, he didn't hate her. I'm severing our bond, he sent. He felt her flinch.

If it keeps you safe, then do it.

With no additional warnings or explanations, Aleck reached into his mind, found the source of their connection, and cut it. Just before Nora's presence faded, a tendril of the backlash snuck through, stealing his breath with its intensity. If Nora felt even a fraction of that pain, it would be a fitting punishment.

Grier waited until Aleck collected himself. His hand crept out, palm up, and Aleck took it, sealing their partnership.

"It begins," Grier said.