Tuesday, August 16, 2011


From Accused
(Contains a couple of spoilerish comments, but nothing that will ruin anything for you)

“We’re going to Aruba.”
Trevor leaned one elbow on the check-in counter as he handed the airline employee our passports. His eyes met mine, sharing a secret meaning behind the words. I grinned back, holding my thoughts behind a mental shield. Boston’s Logan Airport was crowded and hundreds of minds stomped across mine. I needed to keep from sharing them with Trevor—who’d pick them up through our special connection—so at least one of us would be able to concentrate.
—passports here someplace —
—so stupid we have to take off our shoes—
—remember when the blood-sucking airlines didn’t charge us to check a bag—
—already want to go home. This trip is going to—
—forgets to feed the fish while I’m gone, they’re all gonna die, and the apartment will smell like—
—can’t pack lightly to save her life. What’s in this bag? Rocks? Is she bringing designer rocks to—
—put the carry-on in front of me and wear the backpack, maybe they won’t notice the extra—
In about eight hours, Trevor and I would be in Aruba. The two of us were renting a house for a week—with its own private beach. Giddy amber sparkles passed through me at the thought. This trip took the phrase “dream come true” to a whole new level. And after the past few months, we really needed the down time.
The desk agent handed back our passports, gave us boarding passes, and then directed us to the security line. Trevor took me by the hand and led the way through the crowds—he knew how hard it was for me to focus with this many people’s thoughts pressing down on me. Sometimes being telepathic sucked.
It didn’t help that I was also functionally mute, thanks to that fight with Isaiah last spring. At least I could project my thoughts to others so I could still communicate. We tried to keep all that G-positive mental ability stuff low profile, though, so the whole getting-part-of-my-brain-burned-away thing kinda limited my social life these days.
We’d only been in the security line for a few seconds when I felt the cool touch of mental recognition. Madeline Elizabeth Dunn. Goosebumps prickled along my arms—everyone who knew me called me Maddie.
I twisted to look behind me, trying to make the move look casual. At the second flash of recognition, icy yellow tendrils of fear shot through me.
Maddie, what’s wrong? Trevor wrapped a protective invisible arm around me. I dropped my mental shield, wincing with him as my thoughts suddenly body-slammed his.
Someone’s targeting me. At least two of them.
Trevor’s grip tightened on my hand and his face hardened as he glanced around us. Four more people with my face in their thoughts approached, joining the first two.
They’re cops.
The uniformed transit police approached us cautiously. “Madeline Elizabeth Dunn?” one of the officers asked.
Ah, hell. The repeated use of my middle name couldn’t mean anything good.
What do they want? Trevor’s thoughts flashed to us making a break for it. Trevor could stop bullets with his telekinetic ability—he also could use it to move really fast.
I think… they’re going to arrest me. I tightened my grip on his hand. There were too many witnesses here—too many security cameras for him to try anything.
Maybe taking a vacation right now hadn’t been such a good idea. 

Want to win the whole set? Check out yesterday's post: http://thedisgruntledbear.blogspot.com/2011/08/book-launch-day-1.html