The Enlightened (19 page)

“Oh, right. Unlike you and Mira, they can’t read my mind,” he says excitedly. “So I can lie.”

“That’s right. My cover story is that I Guided you to do my bidding.”

“Yes, Master,” Bert says in his best Dracula’s
-
worshipful-servant voice.

My phone rings. It’s Sara. She’s here, so I explain where to meet us.

“I’m so glad she’s okay,” Sara says when Bert and I enter Lucy’s room. Sara’s face is nearly as pale as Lucy’s, and I see that her hands are trembling. “Can you please explain to me what happened?”

I phase into the Quiet.

Hesitantly, I walk over to Sara and enter her mind. The level of anxiety my mom is capable of is insane. If I were this worried, I’d be phasing into the Quiet every few seconds and be barely functional. I debate Guiding her to make her relax, but decide against it. I limit my Guiding to making sure Sara believes the same story as the one I concocted in Lucy’s mind.

I get out of Sara’s head and Read Lucy. She’s content in her sleep. I don’t experience pain or discomfort, but then again, a sleeping mind isn’t very helpful in gauging someone’s health.

I phase out.

“The knife slipped,” I say and tell Sara the story.

Bert is making eyes at me from behind Sara’s back. Eyes that say, “I can’t believe she’s buying it.”

When I’m done with the story, Sara launches into her interrogation. “How did you get here so fast? How was Florida? Where’s Mira—”

“She just opened her eyes,” Bert says, interrupting her barrage of questions.

Sara goes to Lucy and sits on the edge of her bed, lightly resting her hand on her shoulder. Lucy’s eyes focus on her wife. She looks surprisingly sharp, considering her ordeal.

“Hi,” she says hoarsely. “Where the hell am I?”

I explain what she’s already primed to believe. “When I told them ‘officer down,’ they went out of their way to help you,” I conclude.

“To think of all the ways I could’ve gotten hurt, and this happens on a day I’m
off
the job,” Lucy says humorlessly.

“Excuse me,” says a familiar voice through the crack in the door. “May we come in?”

“Please,” I say, trying to hide my surprise. “Mom, you remember my therapist, Dr. Jackson.”

“Please, call me Liz,” Liz says predictably. She hates it when I call her anything but that.

I still can’t believe she’s here. It looks as if Thomas brought her in as reinforcements. Or she might be here to hang with him; they are dating, after all.

“Hello, Liz,” Sara says, blinking. “What are you doing here?”

“Darren called me when your wife got hurt,” Liz says. “He was so distraught I thought I’d check in on things. He’s been a patient for years.”

“Of course,” Sara says. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“This is my boyfriend, Thomas,” Liz says, pulling Thomas inside the room.

Both Sara and Bert look at Thomas with fascination. Even Lucy looks over, though her expression is harder to read.

I wonder if they find the couple’s age difference odd. Liz looks like a hot teacher and Thomas like a student she seduced—only ten years later. I wonder what Sara would think if she knew that on top of everything else, Liz is Thomas’s shrink. Maybe she’s picturing me in Thomas’s shoes. That might be it. Maybe she’s wondering whether my therapist made moves on me when I was a teen. Which would’ve been awesome, by the way.

My thoughts are interrupted when Thomas pulls me into the Quiet.

“Are we bringing her in?” I nod toward Liz. “If so, we should probably use my Quiet session, since I have a long story for you.”

“You decide whom to trust,” Thomas says. “And I appreciate you thinking about my Reach.”

“It’s okay to bring her. Especially since I now know who the mystery Pusher is. And it’s not Liz.”

Thomas phases out, and I phase in and bring him in with me.

Thomas gives Liz a chaste peck on the neck to pull her into the Quiet.

I proceed to tell them a version of my story, leaving only one thing out—Kyle’s identity.

“Your poor mom,” Thomas says, looking at Lucy. His usually stern face is a shade warmer. “To be forced to kill her own partner? There’s nothing worse for a cop.”

“At least she doesn’t remember that,” Liz says. “You were right in that regard. Your other mother looks like she might lose it, by the way. I’d be happy to do a subtle relaxation session on her.”

“That’s how she always looks,” I say. “But will it make her feel better?” The idea sounds promising, though I feel guilty manipulating my mom’s emotions.

“What I do puts Xanax to shame,” Liz says with confidence. “And I’ve been testing it on live human subjects for many years. They always come back for more.”

“In that case, please,” I say. “And in the long term, do you think you can help with Lucy’s baby situation? It’ll probably be a painful shock to just remember she gave up her child like that
...
”

Liz nods. “I’ll make sure the doctor advises her to see me after she checks out. And I’ll also make sure she’s receptive to the idea of getting therapy.”

“You can make her believe it’s for her OCD,” I suggest. “Thank you for this. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.” Liz walks over to Sara and starts doing her Xanax thing.

“And one more thing,” I say, realizing I can no longer tell Lucy everything. “Can you make her forget to ask me for the explanation I promised her earlier on the phone?”

“What explanation?” Liz asks.

“Do you need to know?” I ask. “To make her forget safely and all?”

“I can do it without knowing, but curiosity is a weakness of mine. You know that.”

“Then I’d rather not explain,” I say. I’m glad Liz didn’t lie by saying she needed to know, but I still don’t want to admit that I was about to bring my mom completely up to speed, not when I don’t know Liz’s feelings on the matter.

Liz gives me an analytical look, but doesn’t push the issue. She knows not to bother.

“So are you going to tell us who did this to her?” Thomas asks.

If he was trying to defuse the tension in the air, he couldn’t have asked a worse question.

“Depends,” I say. “What will happen to this person? What’s the plan?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Thomas says. “Liz?”

She shrugs. “I’m not sure either. But given that he attacked one of us, I’d say it’s a matter for the Elders to deal with.”

“What about my mom? What’s the punishment for what he did to her?”

“If you’re talking about her”—Thomas points at Lucy—“they might not see it the same way as you and I do. She isn’t one of us, so our laws don’t extend to her. If you’re talking about your biological mother, then absolutely, he will have to answer for that murder.”

“What. Will. Happen?” I ask through clenched teeth, too angry to confront him on the fact that his Elders wouldn’t see what Kyle did to my mom—the rape and the other fucking atrocities he did to her mind—as a violation of their laws.

“The Elders’ justice is shrouded in mystery,” Liz says. “So we honestly don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“What does it have to do with telling us who the Pusher is?” Thomas asks. “Surely you can tell us that?”

“I plan to kill him,” I say evenly. “And don’t you try to shrink-talk me out of it.”

Liz gives me a thorough look. “Actually, I think this is a very rare case where I believe action will help you achieve
catharsis. So I won’t stop you. ”

“Whatever you’re planning, I won’t rat you out,” Thomas adds.

“
In that case, his name is Kyle,” I say bitterly. “Liz, you might’ve heard me refer to him as
Uncle
Kyle.”

Chapter 19

“Y
ou have an uncle who’s one of us?” Liz asks, her eyes round with surprise. “I didn’t know this.”

“Neither did I,” I say.

“There’s only one Guide named Kyle in the city,” Liz says thoughtfully. “Grant.”

“That’s him. Kyle fucking Grant,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Wait,” Thomas says. “He’s in law enforcement.”

“You know him?” I ask.

“Somewhat. Though he never hangs out at the club.”

“I know him a little better,” Liz says. “And I could easily see him as a Traditionalist. I always knew he had issues, but I never suspected such deep-seated—”

“He’s a dead man,” I interrupt. “So you don’t need to analyze him.”

Liz sighs. “I’m sorry,” she says, “but I’m going to have to go back on one thing I said. I don’t think killing him is a good idea.”

“Why the fuck not?” I snap. Great, now I’m yelling at my shrink.

“He’s been around you your whole life. He’s been like a father figure to you. Do I need to draw you a diagram?”

“He stuck around so he could wipe Lucy’s mind at regular intervals,” I explain, my voice tight with anger.

“That may be true,” Liz says quietly, “but it doesn’t change what you feel about him.”

“What I feel is that he and I can’t breathe the same air,” I say sharply. “If you want to help, tell me something useful about him.”

“We didn’t hang with the same crowd,” she says. “I only knew of him because he was a Guide.”

“Oh shit,” I say as something dawns on me. “That explains it.”

“What?” Thomas asks.

“In Lucy’s memory, Mark asks why Kyle disappeared from his life. And now I think I know why. Mark married Margret, who’s a Guide, which means she would’ve recognized him had they met.”

“That’s true,” Liz says. “She would have known him, though probably only as much as I do. She was obviously—”

“Wait. It just occurred to me.” I stare at Liz. “You knew my biological mother?”

 
“Yes,” she answers. “I knew her. I know everyone.”

“You’ll have to tell me about her one day,” I say. “But right now, I have some important business to take care of.”

“I really don’t think—”

“Liz, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Thomas says, “but I think Darren should do what feels right.”

“Men,” Liz says derisively. “All this macho bullshit. If you go through with it, don’t come begging
me
for therapy.”

“Fine,” I say. “I’m sure I won’t have trouble finding another therapist. Maybe even one who won’t lie to me for over a decade.”

“That’s classic projection—”

“Seriously, Liz. That’s enough,” Thomas says sternly.

To my huge surprise, Liz stops whatever psychobabble she was about to spew at me. I never realized Thomas had the power in this
strange relationship. Interesting.

“I’m sorry, Liz,” I say. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“No, I was out of line,” Liz says, shaking her head. “Just think before you do anything irreversible. That’s all I’m suggesting.”

“I’ll take your words under advisement.” I’m lying through my teeth. “Either way, we need to find out where he is. He’s still a threat to Lucy.”

“So what’s the plan?” Thomas asks.

“You, Bert, and I will go run an errand,” I tell him before turning to my shrink. “Liz, would you mind keeping an eye on things here?”

“Sure,” she says.

“Sounds good to me,” Thomas says.

Giving them both a grateful look, I phase us out of the Quiet.

“Mom,” I say ambiguously, a trick I developed as a kid.

“Yes?” Sara and Lucy say in unison, and I can’t help but smile. Works every time.

“Since you’re feeling better, Bert and I need to swing by our work,” I say, looking at Lucy. “There’s this big move in the portfolio, and they can’t deal without—”

“It’s not a problem,” Lucy interrupts. “Thank you for saving me.”

“I’ll be back soon,” I say. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Sara gives me a hug, and I kiss Lucy goodbye on the cheek. Then I walk out with Bert following on my heels.

Behind me, I hear Thomas make an excuse and Liz give some weird explanation as to why she’ll stay with my moms. She must’ve greased their mental wheels through Guiding, because they act like Liz’s story makes sense. I really hope that stuff doesn’t cause permanent brain damage.

“Your men aren’t exactly inconspicuous,” I say to Thomas as we pass five big dudes wearing black suits and earpieces in the hospital hallway.

“No, they’re not. But they’re effective,” Thomas says curtly. “Liz will make sure no one pays them any heed.”

Bert is about to comment on something, but I shake my head. Then I phase into the Quiet and pull Thomas in.

“Please don’t talk too much about the Guiding stuff in front of my minion,” I say. “I don’t want to make him forget more than I have to.”

“Why do we need this guy at all?”

“He’s part of my contingency plan.”

“I don’t even know what the primary plan is, let alone the contingency,” Thomas says.

“We’re going to the police department, to start,” I say. “Is that good enough?”

“It’ll do for now. Let’s take my car.”

I phase out, and we exit the hospital.

Thomas’s car is the same one he used in the big standoff on the Brooklyn Bridge. Though he crashed it, the car looks as good as new again. I hoped this would be his ride since this car has a cache of weapons in the back. I’ll need those, but I don’t mention this to Thomas.

Before we leave Staten Island, we swing by my moms’ house. We clean up the scene to make it fit my ‘clumsy mom’ story. The good news is that my moms have so many extra bed sheets and blankets that they won’t even notice the ones they had on the bed are missing and have been replaced.

Next, I change out of my bloodstained clothes and into a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt that I keep at my moms’. The clothes are a little stiff, but they’ll do.

“Okay,” I say when we get back into the car. “Our next stop is the police department.”

Thomas puts the Manhattan address I provide into his GPS and begins driving.

Our trip starts off silently. I don’t want to talk too much since Thomas thinks Bert isn’t supposed to know stuff, plus I’m not in a very talkative mood.

“Here’s what I’m wondering,” Thomas says, breaking the silence after a couple of minutes. “Why didn’t Kyle attack you in Miami?”

“I bet he couldn’t find us,” I say. “As a precaution, none of us told anyone the specifics of where in Florida we were vacationing.”

“But there should’ve been an electronic trail—your phones, credit cards, that sort of thing,” Thomas says. “With so many people involved, someone could’ve slipped.”