Mind Game (GhostWalkers #2)(53)
Author: Christine Feehan

Nicolas stilled, aware of the seconds ticking by. Seconds Jesse Calhoun didn’t have. He leapt out of the darkness, giving Murphy no time to fire off his weapon, his knife finding the target, and slipping away, back into the shadows to stalk Paulie.

The bullet came out of the night, clipping his shoulder, removing material, skin, and hair as it slid past, burning as it kissed him. He was spun around, but went with the momentum, allowing it to carry him over the roof to the deck below. He landed on his feet in a crouch and rolled across the expanse of flooring to gain the series of planters and the relative cover they provided.

“We’ve got her cornered, Paulie,” Gregson shouted. “She’s on the deck.”

Nicolas crawled backward until his boots touched the railing. GhostWalkers preferred high ground, but he’d take low if it was all that was available to him.

“It isn’t the woman, Gregson,” Paulie informed his boss. “Too big. I think I winged him though. Give me a minute to get into position and we’ll end it.”

Nicolas slid over the railing, coming to ground just below the deck. He traveled the same path the guard had walked, moving around the exterior of the house until he had gained a position close to where Gregson’s voice had come. He waited, counting the seconds, sending a subtle push toward the man to speak again.

It was in Gregson’s nature to control a situation, and the push found contact. “Drive him toward me, Paulie.”

It was all Nicolas needed, that single sentence to give him the exact location. He drew and fired in one smooth motion, going for the kill. He immediately moved, hurrying along the path to the corner.

“I knew he’d open his big mouth,” Paulie’s voice came from a few feet away and down low as if he were lying on the ground. “And I knew you’d nail him.”

Nicolas froze, trying to discern the guard’s precise location. Heat flared all around him, the temperature rising fast. Orange-red fireballs streaked through the sky, arcing along the river and dropping to the earth to blast into the ground. Nicolas threw himself flat, rolling to fire off three shots in Paulie’s direction. The ground shook with the force of the fireballs as they slammed into earth. He heard Paulie grunt, the sound a good distance from where he’d been.

Nicolas closed his eyes and sent his mind seeking until he found the target. Paulie was crawling toward him, wincing away from the fire raining down from the sky. Nicolas tracked him, first with his mind, then with his gun. He took aim and squeezed the trigger.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“He’s dying, Nicolas.” Dahlia staggered toward the man lying unmoving on the floor. “Jesse.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “I can’t lose you too. Don’t do this.” Crouching beside him, she caught his hand, held it tightly, and looked up at Nicolas. “Do something.” Dahlia had never seen anything resembling the raw flesh that passed for the lower half of both of Jesse’s legs. She could see bones and muscles and there was so much blood. Too much blood. He had burn marks on his chest and several cuts, but it was the horror of his mangled legs that made her terrified for him.

“I’ve called for an ambulance, Dahlia, and the NCIS has agents coming as well. Lily’s contacted them, and they’ll be here in a few minutes.” Nicolas couldn’t look at her. She was as white as a sheet, her eyes too large for her face. Her body trembled under the strain of the aftermath of so many deaths. She’d already been sick once, and he could see her fighting for breath. She was soaking wet and streaked with mud from traveling along the river’s edge. He had no idea how she managed to get to him, lugging his pack along with her. The pack weighed as she much as she did, but she was there, her eyes filling with tears and tearing out his heart. There wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it either. “We can’t be here when they come.”

“You can save him, Nicolas,” Dahlia said. “I know you can. I feel the power in the room with us. You have to try. He won’t last until the ambulance gets here. You know he won’t. You told me your grandfather felt it in you a long time ago. He could heal, so can you.”

“I told you I couldn’t heal anyone, Dahlia. I’ve never been able to.” Failing her left him feeling worse than he had felt at any other time in his life. “I’m sorry, I wish I could save him for you, but I can’t.” It wasn’t as if he couldn’t feel the power moving through his body. It was there, a tight coil he could never unfurl. He had tried so hard in his youth to learn the secret, spent time in the mountains on vision quests, had meditated, all to no avail. He couldn’t bring the power out of his body and into another’s no matter how grave the injury or how important the need.

“There’s all this energy bombarding me, surrounding us. It’s violent and ugly, but we’ve mixed it before, we can do it again, this time use it for something good. You have my crystals in your pack. I can aim and focus the energy through the crystals. You kept us joined while you were here alone, you can keep us joined so you can use the energy. I’ve never been able to release energy through crystals but I think you can.”

“I don’t know the first thing about crystals, Dahlia.” He didn’t. His people used herbs and smoke and spirits, not rock and mineral.

“I know about crystals.” The energy was flowing to her from every part of the house, rushing to overtake her like a great tsunami. She rocked back and forth, pressing her teeth together, fighting to stay conscious. “We have to do it now, Nicolas.”

He dropped to his knees beside her. “We can’t stay here, Dahlia. It’s too dangerous, and the cops are going to be trigger-happy when they find the dead bodies outside. I’ll try, but we have no more than a few minutes. Then we go.” He was already pulling her crystal spheres from the pack. “Which ones?”

“The amethyst to focus. The rose quartz for healing.” She reached for the familiar balls, her fingertips gliding over the surfaces. At once the calming affect relieved some of the terrible pressure building throughout her body.

Nicolas put his hands over Jesse Calhoun’s chest. His hands felt icy cold. He felt the power moving inside him, but there was a barrier he couldn’t begin to bridge. For Dahlia’s sake, he began the age-old healing chant his Lakota grandfather had taught him.

Dahlia reached out, the crystals tight in her fists, and laid her hands, palm down, over Nicolas’s. At once he felt a jolt through his body, a sizzling whip of electricity, and the hot flow of energy pushing through Dahlia to him and back again. The heat emanating from the spheres seared his skin as he passed his hands over Jesse’s body. His discipline stood him in good stead, not allowing anything into his mind but the healing of the NCIS agent’s torn and mangled body. The steady beating of the heart. The flow of blood through the arteries and veins.