State of Mind - 10. Chapter 10

The desire to party or fuck his troubles away disappeared with his two guests. Grier would've called it petulant. Keev deemed it cautious.

Grier hadn't explained how the Organization had tracked him down, but it didn't take a genius to deduce Aleck was behind it. The man was hiding something amongst all those churning emotions. So was Grier. And he'd been scared, which was enough to give Keev nightmares. The time had come to chose sides, but who were the players and what were their agendas? Where did his father stand?

Burying one's head in the sand was all well and good, but he had no desire to be shot in the ass.

He cast his book aside and considered what he knew. He was missing something vital; the knowledge felt close, like he could brush it with his fingertips. He tilted his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Keev inspected the caller ID before answering. "I thought you said you were getting rid of this phone."

"I haven't had the chance yet." Grier's voice was clipped, all-business. "We ran into a problem."

"Oh?" Concern tickled Keev's chest. "Of what sort?"

"The sort that comes from a gun."

Keev's stomach flipped over. "Are you all right?"

"Fine."

Which meant, "Aleck?"

"Not so fine, but alive."

Embarrassed to find himself relieved, Keev countered with, "Haven't you taught him how to duck?"

"Careful, Keev." Amusement leaked into Grier's voice. "You sound almost worried."

So what if he did? Aleck wasn't a bad person. A bit idealistic, rough around the edges, uptight, repressed… "How bad is he?"

"It was touch and go for a while. But I didn't call so you could advertise how much you like him."

"Which would be not at all."

"They were waiting for us," Grier said.

Keev went cold. "Explain," he forced out between clenched teeth.

"In Richmond. The Organization was waiting."

"Fuck!" Keev shot off the sofa. A black, marble statuette was the nearest object of opportunity, and it shattered when he hurled it against the wall. He hunched over the table, one hand fisted on the surface while the other clutched the phone. "I'm sorry."

"You couldn't have known."

"I should have." The knowledge sparked another burst of anger. He had a spy in his house. And God knows for how long and to whom they reported. Graviel? His father? The last made his stomach flip. "I'll deal with it." Today. Right now.

"Be careful, Keev."

"You always say that. Afraid I can't take care of myself?"

Silence answered him. Then Grier said, "I know you can." Strains of a muffled conversation drifted over the line. "And Aleck says thanks for your concern. It's touching." The connection went dead.

Keev stood with the phone to his ear until he'd wrestled his rage to a manageable level. He'd promised them protection. Now his word meant nothing. He had a house full of servants, most Gifted. An hour ago he'd believed in them all. Now he trusted no one. He cursed and stalked to his office. He'd start there, work backwards until he figured it out. And God help the man or woman who'd betrayed him.

An hour later, he dropped into his chair and brooded. Nothing. Not a trace – that his senses could pick up, at least. The next logical step would be to prowl the house, flushing out the traitor with good old-fashioned surliness and suspicion. He spun his chair to the window as another surge of worry over Grier – and yes, damn it, Aleck – distracted him.

He felt his father before he saw him. Roman's emotional aura preceded him everywhere, a mass of condescension and disdain. Unsettled by the unannounced visit, Keev slipped a hand into his pocket and curled it around the scrap of paper with Grier's phone number.

The door to his office opened. A cool rush of air brushed his face, blowing a strand of blond hair over his chin. He plucked it away. "Father," he said, throwing the honorific over his shoulder, preempting Roman's greeting with his own.

"Son," Roman countered. "I hope I'm not intruding." He edged around the room, just out of sight, pausing at the bar, then at the window to admire the view. It was a game he played, an unnerving one, but Keev was a master of it himself. He refused to crane his neck to follow Roman's progress.

"No, of course not. You're always welcome. Though I admit it's unexpected. I thought you were in Italy."

"I was. That business is concluded." Roman swaggered into sight. He was darker than Keev – who'd inherited his pale hair and complexion from his mother – and broader across the shoulders. His height was an intimidating 6'4", but he'd never needed it to control a situation. That he did with his eyes. Dark brown, almost black, they could pierce a person's soul. Austere as always, he settled into a chair – the same one Aleck had chosen the day before yesterday – and crossed his legs. Long fingers picked at his suit jacket buttons one by one, revealing more of the starched, white shirt beneath. "I felt like a bit of sun."

"You're on holiday then?"

"Unfortunately, my schedule won't allow it. I have several issues to attend to. And in four day's time, a meeting with my new allies." The way he spit the word left little question as to how Roman felt about his fledgling partnership with Graviel.

Keev slid his fingers back and forth over Grier's note. He'd not closed off his thoughts. Only the guilty had a reason to hide. "New allies?"

Roman chose to pour himself a drink rather than answer. "I'd like you to attend."

"We agreed long ago on this."

Roman's hand paused, then resumed pouring. "I realize that. I'm asking as a special favor." He raised the glass to his lips. "Please. Suspend your boycott of my affairs for one night?"

Manipulative bastard. "What sort of meeting?"

"A meeting of the minds." Roman cackled at his own joke. Keev managed a tight smile.

"Where?"

"Mallorca. You haven't been there in years, have you?" Roman topped off his drink before returning to his seat.

Keev wasn't sure what bothered him more: his father's patronizing smile, or that he knew the last time Keev had been in Spain. "It's full of tourists this time of year," he hedged.

Roman's smile evaporated. "I won't have you left behind on this. It's too important, and you've spent far too much of your life doing nothing but dodging one difficult task after another. It's time to grow up. I'll expect you to be there." He stood. "I've forwarded the details to your assistant."

"As you wish."

He didn't realize he'd mauled Grier's scrap of paper into several pieces until Roman paused at the door. "I understand you've had guests recently."

"Several," Keev answered.

"Yes, but I was speaking of two in particular."

Well, Keev thought, anger once more threatening to boil over, no question as to who the spy reports to. He met his father's eyes but kept silent.

Roman sniffed. "I don't begrudge you your teenage crush, Keev, but tread carefully."

"Father?"

"Don't confuse your loyalties," Roman said as he left. The door closed with a soft click.

*~*~*

They left later that night, under cover of darkness. Amelia's goodbye was teary and emotional, and even Aleck was relieved to drive away when the time came.

"We shouldn't have taken their car," Grier said. "If we're found, their involvement will be impossible to hide."

Aleck tilted the seat back and shifted onto his left hip. "There's no arguing with her. Just drive."

"Which direction?"

Aleck pulled out the handheld GPS that Baptiste had given him. "Wherever the magic eight ball leads us." He punched in the address to the beach house.

"Does the magic eight ball say anything about when I'll get my life back?"

Aleck grinned. He shook the GPS unit, then squinted at the screen. It beeped. "It says: after you save the world."

"Poor deluded eight ball."

Aleck laughed. "Over the Bay Bridge and across the peninsula to the Eastern Shore. If I remember right, it should take about three hours. The way you drive, four."

Grier tapped the brakes and Aleck hit the dash with a thump. "Hey."

"Buckle up. And also, shut up."

For as tense as Grier felt, the trip was dull. Aleck didn't complain, but Grier knew his wound was tender. His headaches hadn't returned, and an hour into the journey, he fell into a peaceful sleep, curled on his side with the seatbelt tucked under his arm. Grier peeled the GPS from his fingers.

Two hours and fifteen minutes later, he pulled onto a private lane that led off into scrub-covered dunes. Sand covered the pavement in most places. The offer of the Land Rover made more sense now. A quarter of a mile later, he made a sharp right between two dunes and almost plowed into the house.

His sudden lurching stop woke Aleck. He rubbed his eyes like a five-year-old and squinted through the windshield. "Ah, here it is. Just like I remember it." He untangled himself from his seatbelt. "I hope you're not expecting anything too fancy."

Grier eyed the house. "Would running water be too much to hope for?"

"Snob."

Aleck climbed the steps and squinted through the frosted glass of the front door. "Looks pretty much like I remember."

"I was afraid of that."

Aleck beckoned him up onto the deck. "Come on. This isn't its best side."

"I'm praying you're serious." He followed Aleck up the stairs.

The Baptiste's beach house was a simple Cape Cod, raised on stilts and surrounded on all four sides by expansive wood decks. Beachside, the house was as impressive as Aleck promised, with large picture windows running the length of the structure. Best of all, it was nestled between a run of dunes, hidden from its neighbors. At one corner, a boardwalk led off toward the beach. He heard the roar of the ocean and the morning cry of seagulls on the breeze. The air tasted salty. The horizon grew brighter by the second, pale pink tinged with purple.

Aleck fit a key into the back door. "Come on," he called over his shoulder.

Grier had expected shag carpeting and wood paneling. Instead, pale cherry flooring ran uninterrupted throughout. The living room was painted a bright white, throwing the shaker furniture into sharp relief. The kitchen lined one wall, all stainless steel and granite. A massive work island connected the two areas.

Grier gave a low whistle. "I take back every bad thing I said about Baptiste."

"You didn't say anything bad about him," Aleck replied with a frown.

"Everything I thought then."

Aleck scratched the back of his head. "Want to unload now or later?"

"Says the man who just had a two-hour nap." Two identical bedrooms branched off the hallway, each with queen-sized beds. "I don't relish waking up without coffee. Let's get it over with."

In the end, Grier carried the supplies and Aleck found a place for them inside. By the time Grier had dropped the last box on the floor and locked the door behind him, Aleck was pale and hugging his side. "I think I'm done." He hobbled into the bathroom. Grier wedged a foot inside before he could slam the door.

"Take off your clothes. Is there any fresh blood?"

"You just want to see me naked," Aleck peeled off his shirt, then popped the buttons on his jeans and slid them low on his hips.

"I've seen you naked. Or have you forgotten?"

Aleck winced when Grier probed the wound. "Oh yeah. What'd you think, by the way?"

"The room was cold, so I won't hold it against you."

Aleck's bark of laughter ended with him curled over in a groan. Grier grabbed him by the nape of the neck and steered him into the nearest bed. "Idiot," he said as he turned to leave.

"Grier, wait." Aleck pushed up onto his elbows. A slash of sunlight snuck through a crack in the blinds, lighting one side of his face. "Do you want to start that training?"

"Right now?" Grier hovered in the doorway. "Aren't you tired?"

A low laugh drifted out of the dark. Aleck fell back to the pillow, out of the light. "I'm not the one doing all the work. My part's easy."

Grier hesitated. Eagerness battled with exhaustion, then Aleck's fingers drifted into the sunbeam, coaxing. "Come on. We'll start slow. It'll give you an idea of how it works."

"All right."

Aleck scooted to the side in invitation – one Grier couldn't resist. He lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress and reached for the lamp, but Aleck grabbed his arm. "No."

"Why not?"

Several seconds passed before Aleck blurted, "Darkness might help you the first few times."

Interesting. And telling. "If you insist."

Aleck sighed and released his arm. "Okay, first—"

"Tell me about how you learned to do this," Grier said.

Aleck swallowed. "Why?"

That should've been obvious, yet Aleck's curiosity was genuine. Was he so blind to what was inside him? "If you'd rather not…"

"No, it's okay. I, uh, taught myself. When I was a kid." He crossed his arms behind his head. "It's not a gift. Not in the strictest sense of the word. At least, I'm assuming that's the case, since it's a skill that can be taught. It's more," he paused, "a state of mind."

Grier stared, trying to discern Aleck's features in the dark. "Can you be more specific?"

"I—" Aleck shifted, agitated. "You have to want to be invisible." His voice dropped at the end, the final syllables of invisible no more than a breath of sound.

"Why?" Grier slid his hand across the blanket and set it on Aleck's hip.

Aleck shrugged. His hand crept over Grier's. "That's the way I do it. So that's how I'm going to teach you."

Topic closed for the evening, but not forever. Grier let it go. He knew the reason, anyway, if what Amelia had let slip about Aleck's childhood held a kernel of truth. "Invisible. That shouldn't be too hard."

"There are levels," Aleck continued. "Like…curtains. The first level is like a sheer. It hides your gifts, that's all. Don't think it'll be easy to master just because it's the first step. It's the hardest to learn, but once you have it," he snapped his fingers, "piece of cake."

"Hmmm." Their tangled fingers had become too distracting, so Grier pulled away and reclined near the foot of the bed. "What are the other levels?"

Aleck's teeth flashed in the dark. "The next is for when you want to fade into the background. People still see you. I mean, you register, but they don't notice you. Do you know what I mean?"

Grier digested the words. "I believe so."

"It's dead useful. Especially in more intimate places, like hotel lobbies or restaurants. No one gives me a second glance. Even if I sit there for hours."

Disbelief began to replace excitement. "And the next?"

"Is the ultimate. I can become, for all intensive purposes, invisible. Not literally, of course." He reached for Grier again, touching him just above the knee. "I can't keep it up for very long. It's good for split second evasion. Little else. And it's draining. Very draining."

Getting his mind around the concept was draining. Grier shook his head. "I can't believe that. I'm sorry, Aleck, but it's too far-fetched. This isn't magic. It's science."

"Is that so?"

Grier tensed at the amused tone. "Yes. Gifts stem from our brain. It's physiological, plain and simple. How else do you explain how a drug can impair them? What you're suggesting…"

"It's not so different," Aleck insisted. "And no one knows how our Gifts work, so who are you to put a limit on what's possible?"

Nobody, in the grand scheme of things. Still, it stretched Grier's ability to accept. "That's enough for tonight," he said, mind spinning.

"Already?" Aleck's blunt fingernails scratched across his jeans, edging higher on Grier's thigh. "Are you that tired?"

Grier sat up, swinging his leg out from under Aleck's hand, ignoring his soft sound of disappointment. "No. And that's why I'm leaving." Dodging Aleck's clumsy grab, he stood and backed across the room to the door.

"Afraid I'll bite?"

"No." Grier clutched the doorframe. His mouth went dry at Aleck's raspy chuckle.

"Afraid you will?"

"Yes." It was the truth.

His reward was a sharp intake of breath and stunned silence. But as he spun to leave, Aleck laughed again. "How long are you going to make me wait?"

Grier stepped into the hall and slammed the door. Standing with his forehead against the wood, he listened to the muffled noises from the other side. Bedsprings creaked. Cotton sheets swished against one another.

Running away, then asking for more was weak, but he couldn't help himself. Palm flat against the door, Grier reached out with his mind, and Aleck welcomed him in.

The pillow case felt silky against his cheek, and the ceiling fan blew a steady breeze of cool air over his throat and across his chest. His wound throbbed in time with his heart, just a dull ache now. His stomach felt heavy, the rest of his body weightless. Under the blankets, he was too hot. Clammy. Hard.

Aleck's voice drifted through the door, laced with too many things to identify. "Good night, Grier."

"The sooner I'm rid of you, the better," Grier grumbled, short of breath.

Keep telling yourself that. The last came through his thoughts, a gentle caress. Grier tamped down the connection as best he could and stalked away.

*~*~*

Learning Aleck's magic trick became his primary focus. Aleck obliged by pushing him day and night, insisting his failures were guiding him in the right direction.

"It's a process of elimination," Aleck said. "We'll keep trying until we find what triggers a successful attempt."

"Must it be so dark?" Grier asked.

Aleck eyed him from where he'd propped himself against the headboard. After the first day, he'd shunned the constant bed rest, but still tired easily. "Need a nightlight?"

"I need an explanation. I'm afraid next you'll want a circle of beeswax candles and a Ouija Board."

"That's advanced stuff. I never Ouija until the second week."

"And I delayed dinner for this." Grier turned to go, but Aleck motioned him back.

"Okay," he conceded. "No more jokes. Promise." He circled his finger in the air. "Close your eyes."

"Aleck." Grier's warning elicited another sly smile.

"Grier," Aleck mimicked in the same tone. He sat forward, holding a hand over his bandage. "Close your eyes."

Grier sighed, but obeyed. "No need to tell the rest. I know it. Click my heels together and say, 'There's no place like home.'"

The room rang with Aleck's laughter. "If only we could," he said, tone so wistful that Grier swallowed his sharp retort. "Could I get you to lie down next to me?"

Grier opened one eye and squinted at him.

"I'll be good." Aleck patted the bed. "We're going to try something different tonight," he said once Grier was prone next to him. He propped his head on his hand. "Relax."

"I am."

"No, Grier. Relax. Do you meditate?"

"Of course."

Aleck smirked at the testy response. Before Grier could stop him, he reached out and ran a finger over his forehead. "Meditate until you feel clear-headed. You're too tense, and each time you try this and fail, it gets worse."

"How silly of me. It's not as though it's a matter of life and death."

His sarcasm bounced harmlessly away, judging my Aleck's sleepy smile. "And you call me the drama queen." The finger returned, tracing lines Grier hadn't realized were there. "Clear your mind. Then we'll start fresh."

Grier mumbled his agreement. "What are you going to do?"

"Watch you." The one finger became two. They slid over his temple and across the line of his cheek.

Achieving a deep state of relaxation took Grier very little time. "Thought you didn't touch people," he said, slurring the words.

Aleck's voice sounded far away when he answered. "Thought I didn't either."

Grier lined his troubling thoughts into a row and banished them one by one. Some proved more difficult than others, but by the time he reached the last – his inability to learn what Aleck was trying to teach him – he felt refreshed. At some point, Aleck's fingers had fallen away. His breath puffed against Grier's shoulder, long and even, and his body, close but not touching, radiated comforting warmth. Rather than wake him, Grier tried to puzzle out his failure.

Why wasn't it working when his need was so intense? "You have to want for no one to see you," Aleck had said. "Like you've never wanted anything more."

That was the crux of it. There was one person he didn't want to be invisible to.

I just need it for a few moments, he told himself. Not forever.

The last barrier slipped away. This time when he began the exercise – when he tried to picture himself as invisible – the image came without a fight. Grier reached for it with the care a child might reach for a butterfly, afraid it would slip through his fingers. His surroundings, always sharply focused because of his Gifts, blurred, like he was looking through a fine mesh screen. So this was how most people saw the world.

The cadence of Aleck's breathing changed. The finger returned, tracing his lips this time. "You did it," Aleck said, voice thick with sleep, "I can't sense you."

Grier grinned.

He had it.