GhostWalkers 2 - Mind Game
* * *
MIND GAME
GHOSTWALKERS BOOK 2
By
Christine Feehan
* * *
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
* * *
BUT WHO WILL PROTECT HIM FROM HER?
Possessed of an extraordinary telekinetic gift, Dahlia Le Blanc has spent her life isolated from other people. And just when she thinks she’s finally achieved some semblance of peace, her well-orchestrated world comes crashing down…
For a reason she cannot guess, she has become the target of deadly assassins. Suddenly no place is safe—not even the secret refuge she’d established long ago. Now she must rely on Nicolas Trevane—a dangerous warrior sent to track her down and protect her. Together they generate a scorching heat Dahlia never imagined was possible. But can she trust this man with her secrets—especially when some people would kill to get their hands on them?
* * *
Hailed as “sultry [and] spine-tingling” (Publishers Weekly) and “intense, sensual, and mesmerizing” (Library Journal), Shadow Game plunged us into a world of terrifying power and forbidden passion. Now, New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan returns to that exciting world to give us her most breathtaking novel yet.
Raves for Shadow Game:
“GUARANTEED NOT TO DISAPPOINT.”
—The Best Reviews
Acclaim for Christine Feehan’s
Shadow Game
“Having fast made a name for herself in the vampire romance realm, Feehan now turns her attention to other supernatural powers in this swift, sensational offering… The sultry, spine-tingling kind of read that [Feehan’s] fans will adore.”
—Publishers Weekly
“One of the best current voices in the darker paranormal romance subgenre, Feehan has begun another series that, while lacking the fantasy feel of her Carpathian romances, is equally intense, sensual, and mesmerizing and might appeal especially to fans of futuristic romances. Known for her vampire tales, Feehan is a rising star in paranormal romance.”
—Library Journal
“Sizzling sex scenes both physical and telepathic pave the road to true love… Action, suspense, and smart characters make this erotically charged romance an entertaining read.”
—Booklist
“A very fast-paced action-packed thriller-love story all wrapped up into one… I highly recommend this book and will be adding it to my keeper’s shelf.”
—EscapeToRomance.com
“Feehan packs such a punch with this story it will leave one gasping for breath. She conquers yet another genre of romance with ease, proving why she is a master… Ms. Feehan wields the suspense blade with ease, keeping readers enthralled and teetering on the edge… Guaranteed not to disappoint, and will leave one begging for more. A must-read book, only cementing Ms. Feehan’s position as a genre favorite for yet another round.”
—The Best Reviews
… AND THE NOVELS OF CHRISTINE FEEHAN
“Just as I begin to think the romance genre has nowhere else to run, I get to read something that takes another giant leap down a totally unknown road. Romance, suspense and intrigue, and the paranormal… combined to make one of the most delicious journeys I have had the pleasure of taking in a long, long time… Definitely something for everyone.”
—Romance and Friends
“Feehan’s newest is a skillful blend of supernatural thrills and romance that is sure to entice readers.”
—Publishers Weekly
“If you are looking for something that is fun and different, pick up a copy of this book.”
—All About Romance
“This one is a keeper… I had a hard time putting [it] down… Don’t miss this book!”
—New-Age Bookshelf
“The characters and twists in this book held me on the edge of my seat the whole time I read it. If you’ve enjoyed Ms. Feehan’s previous novels, you will surely be captivated by this step into the world of Gothic romance… Once again, Ms. Feehan does not disappoint.”
—Under the Covers Book Reviews
* * *
JOVE BOOKS, NEW YORK
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either
are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously,
and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
MIND GAME
A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Jove edition / August 2004
Copyright © 2004 by Christine Feehan
Excerpt from “Dark Secret” by Christine Feehan
copyright © 2005 by Christine Feehan
Cover design by Marc Cohen
Cover photo by Swamp/David Muench/Getty Images
Book design by Julie Rogers
ISBN: 0-515-13809-6
A JOVE BOOK®
Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
JOVE and the “J” design are trademarks belonging to
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
* * *
For my beloved sister Mary, with much love.
Hope always shines eternal, even in our darkest hour.
Somehow, you always have known that.
* * *
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Without two wonderful men this book would never have been written. I would like to thank Morey Sparks for all of his help and the many hours he spent talking to me about his experiences in the military. It wasn’t always easy, and I appreciate it.
Special thanks to Dr. Christopher Tong, coeditor of the “state of the art” series, Artificial Intelligence in Engineering Design (volumes I, II, and III). He has also published books with such titles as Beyond Believing, You CAN Take It with You, and Beyond Spiritual Correctness. He has been a manager, consultant, teacher, and researcher at many well-known institutions including Rutgers, MIT, IBM Thomas J. Watson Research Center, Xerox Palo Alto Research Center, and Siemens Research. He was invaluable to me with his help on this book.
Be sure to write to Christine at christine@christinefeehan.com to get a FREE exclusive screen saver and join the PRIVATE email list to receive an announcement when Christine’s books are released.
* * *
THE GHOSTWALKER CREED
We are the GhostWalkers, we live in the shadows
The sea, the earth, and the air are our domain
No fallen comrade will be left behind
We are loyalty and honor bound
We are invisible to our enemies and we destroy them
where we find them
We believe in justice and we protect our country and those
unable to protect themselves
What goes unseen, unheard, and unknown are
GhostWalkers
There is honor in the shadows and it is us
; We move in complete silence whether in jungle or desert
We walk among our enemy unseen and unheard
Striking without sound and scatter to the winds before
they have knowledge of our existence
We gather information and wait with endless patience for
that perfect moment to deliver swift justice
We are both merciful and merciless
We are relentless and implacable in our resolve
We are the GhostWalkers and the night is ours
Nox noctis est nostri
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
Contents - Next
“She’s obviously not cooperating again,” Dr. Whitney grumbled and scribbled fiercely in his notebook, clearly somewhere between total exasperation and frustration. “Don’t let her have her toys again until she decides to work. I’ve had enough of her nonsense.”
The nurse hesitated. “Doctor, that isn’t a good idea with Dahlia. She can be very…” She paused, clearly searching for the right word. “Difficult.”
That caught his attention. He looked up from his papers, the impatience on his face changing to interest. “You’re afraid of her, Milly. She’s four years old, and you’re afraid of her. Why?” There was more than scientific interest in his tone. There was eagerness.
The nurse continued to watch the child through the glass window. The little girl had shiny black hair, thick and long and falling down her back in an unkempt, untidy mass. She sat on the floor rocking back and forth, clutching a small blanket to her and moaning softly. Her eyes were enormous, as black as midnight and as penetrating as steel.
Milly Duboune winced visibly and looked away when the child turned those black, ancient eyes in her direction.
“She can’t see us through the glass,” Dr. Whitney pointed out.
“She knows we’re here.” The nurse dropped her voice to a whisper. “She’s dangerous, Doctor. No one wants to work with her. She won’t let us brush her hair or tell her to go to bed, and we can’t punish her.”
Dr. Whitney lifted an eyebrow, sheer arrogance crossing his face. “You’re all that afraid of this child? Why wasn’t I informed?”
Milly hesitated, fear etched on her face. “We knew you’d demand more from her. You have no idea what you’d unleash. You don’t pay any attention to them after you make your demands. She’s in terrible pain. We don’t blame her when she throws her tantrums. Ever since you insisted we separate the children, many are showing signs of extreme discomfort or, as in Dahlia’s case, a high level of pain. She can’t eat or sleep properly. She’s too sensitive to light and sound. She’s losing weight. Her pulse is too rapid, her heart rate up all the time. She cries even in her sleep. Not a child’s cry, but a cry of pain. Nothing we’ve tried has helped.”
“There’s no reason for her to be in pain,” Dr. Whitney snapped. “All of you coddle those children. They have a purpose, a much bigger purpose than you can imagine. Go back in there and tell her if she doesn’t cooperate, I’ll take all of the toys and her blanket away from her.”
“Not her blanket, Dr. Whitney, it’s all she clings to. It’s all the comfort she has.” The nurse shook her head forcefully and stepped back from the window. “If you want that blanket, you go take it away from her yourself.”
Dr. Whitney studied the desperation in the woman’s eyes with clinical detachment. He indicated for the nurse to reenter the room. “See if you can coax her to cooperate. What does she want the most?”
“To be put back in the same room with either Lily or Flame.”
“Iris. The child’s name is Iris, not Flame. Don’t indulge her personality simply because she has red hair. She already is more trouble than she’s worth with that temper of hers. The last thing we want is for Iris and this one,” he indicated the dark-haired little girl, “to get together. Go tell her she can spend time with Lily if what she does pleases me.”
Milly took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the small room. The doctor flicked a switch so he could hear the conversation between the nurse and the little girl.
“Dahlia? Look at me, honey,” Milly wheedled. “I have a surprise for you. Dr. Whitney said if you do something really good for him, you can spend time with Lily. Would you like that? To spend the rest of the evening with Lily?”
Dahlia clutched the raggedy blanket to her and nodded her head, her eyes solemn. The nurse knelt beside her and reached out her hand to smooth Dahlia’s hair away from her face. Immediately the little girl ducked, clearly unafraid, simply avoiding physical contact with her. Milly sighed and dropped her hand. “Okay, Dahlia. Try something with one of the balls. See if you can do something with them.”
Dahlia turned her head and looked directly at the doctor through the one-way glass. “Why does that man stare at us all the time? What does he want?” She sounded more adult than child.
“He wants to see if you can do anything special,” the nurse answered.
“I don’t like him.”
“You don’t have to like him, Dahlia. You just have to show him what you can do. You know you have all sorts of wonderful tricks you can do.”
“It hurts when I do them.”
“Where does it hurt?” The nurse glanced at the glass too, a small frown beginning to form.
“In my head. It hurts all the time in my head and I can’t make it go away. Lily and Flame make it go away.”
“Just do something for the doctor and you can spend all evening with Lily.”
Dahlia sat silent for a moment, still rocking, her fingers curled tightly in the blanket. Behind the one-way glass, Dr. Whitney sucked in his breath and scribbled across the page of his notebook hastily, intrigued by the child’s demeanor. She seemed to be weighing the advantages and disadvantages and making a judgment call. Finally she nodded, as if bestowing a great favor on the nurse.
Without further argument, Dahlia placed her tiny hand over one ball and began to make small circles above it. Dr. Whitney leaned close to the glass to study the lines of concentration on her face. The ball began to spin on the floor then rose beneath her palm. She moved the ball along her index finger, keeping it spinning a few inches above the floor in an amazing display of her phenomenal ability to control it with her mind. A second sphere joined the first in the air beneath her hand, both balls spinning madly like tops. The task appeared almost effortless. Dahlia seemed to be concentrating, but not wholly. She glanced at the nurse and then at the glass, looking nearly bored. She held the balls spinning in the air for a minute or two.
Abruptly she let her hand fall, clapping both hands against her head, pressing her palms tightly against her temples. The balls fell to the ground. Her face was pale, white lines around her mouth.
Dr. Whitney swore softly and flicked a second switch. “Have her do it again. This time with as many balls as she can handle. I want the action sustained this time so I can time her.”
“She can’t, Doctor, she’s in pain,” Milly protested. “We have to take her to Lily. It’s the only thing that will help her.”
“She’s only saying that so she can get her way. How could Lily or Iris take her pain away? That’s just ridiculous, they’re children. If she wants to see Lily she can repeat the experiment and try a little harder.”
There was a small silence. The little girl’s face darkened. Her eyes grew pitch-black. She stared fiercely at the glass. “He’s a bad man,” she told the nurse. “A very bad man.” The glass began to fracture into a fine spider’s web. There were at least ten balls of varying size on the floor near the child. All of them began to spin madly in the air before slamming again and again against the window. Glass fragments broke off and rained onto the floor. Chips flew wildly in the air, until it appeared to be snowing glass.
The nurse screamed and ran from the small room, slamming the door behind her. The walls swelled outward with the terrible rage on the child’s face. The door rocked on its hinges. Flames raced up the wall, circled the doorjamb, bright crackli
ng orange and red, spreading like a storm. Everything that could move was picked up from the floor and spun as if in the center of a tornado.
Through it all, Whitney stood watching, mesmerized by the power of her rage. He didn’t even move when the glass cut his face and blood ran down into the collar of his immaculate shirt.
Dr. Lily Whitney-Miller snapped off the video and turned to face the small group of men who had been watching the tape with the same mesmerized enthrallment the doctor in the film had exhibited. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was always hard to watch her father behaving in such a monstrous fashion. No matter how often she viewed the tapes of his work, she could not equate that man with the one who had been so loving to her. “That, gentlemen, was Dahlia at age four,” she announced. “She would be a couple of years younger than me now, and she’s the one I believe I’ve located.”
There was an awed silence. “She was that powerful at the age of four? A four-year-old child?” Captain Ryland Miller put his arm around his wife to comfort her, knowing how she felt when she delved into the experiments her father had performed. He stared at the picture of the black-haired child on the screen. “What else do you have on her, Lily?”
“I’ve found more tapes. These are of a young woman being given advanced training as some kind of field operative. I’m convinced it’s Dahlia. My father’s code is different in these books, and the subject under training is referred to as Novelty White. I didn’t understand it at first, but my father called each of the missing girls he experimented on by the name of a flower. Dahlia is often referred to as a novelty. I think he interchanges the name Dahlia with Novelty in these experiments. These tapes cover preteen and teen years. She’s an exceptional young woman, high IQ, very talented, tremendous psychic ability, but the tapes are difficult to watch because she is wide open to assault from the outside world and no one has taught her how to protect herself.”