"You're getting all this from his notes?" Ryland asked. "How dangerous does he say she is?"
Lily shrugged. "He talked about the necessity of removing her from society several times, yet he continued to allow this training to take place. I studied the tapes as he must have, and she doesn't attack unless she believes she is forced to defend herself. So certainly, during her teenage years, she's gained some semblance of control over her abilities."
Lily put on the remaining tapes, one after the other. She had watched them already, the heartbreaking scenes of the woman she was certain was the missing Dahlia doing martial arts, anticipating every move before it was made, defeating every opponent in spite of her small size and lack of weight, but inevitably collapsing in a heap of muscle spasms, with a retching stomach and blood trickling from her mouth and even her ears at times. She never cried out; she merely rocked back and forth, pressing her hands to her head before her ultimate collapse. The tapes depicted training that could possibly be used for undercover work, and each time the woman called Novelty ended up the same way, curled up in a ball in the fetal position.
Watching it made Lily sick. Once her father discovered Dahlia couldn't work under the conditions they were expecting, he should have pulled her from the training immediately. Unfortunately, she always performed the given task before she collapsed. Remembering the earlier tapes of the stubborn and vengeful child in the laboratory, Lily wondered what they held over her head to get her to work for them when she was so clearly strong-willed enough to refuse.
Instead of watching the tapes she watched the reactions of the men. She wanted to send the most sympathetic after Dahlia. The woman had suffered trauma for years. She needed the safety of the Whitney home, with the protection of the thick walls and a compassionate and kind-hearted staff, all of whom had natural barriers so they couldn't project emotions to the GhostWalker team. Her father had provided the safe house for her, and she had, in turn, chosen to share it with the men her father had experimented on.
Lily looked at their faces and for the first time felt the urge to laugh. Why had she thought she'd be able to read them? They hid their thoughts behind expressionless masks. They were well prepared by the military, each of them receiving special training long before they were ever recruited for duty in the GhostWalker squad.
She waited until the last tape had been played and the impact on the men was the most profound. Dahlia Le Blanc was the kind of woman most men would want to protect. Very small, very slight, with enormous sad eyes and flawless skin. She looked like a doll with her skin and eyes and wealth of jet-black hair. Lily knew Dahlia needed help, a tremendous amount of help, to adjust to living in the world again. She was determined to give Dahlia everything Dr. Whitney had failed to provide. A home, a sanctuary, people she could call family and count on. It wouldn't be easy to convince Dahlia to come back to the very place where the original damage had been done to her.
Ryland swept his arm around Lily and bent his head to hers. "You have tears in your eyes."
"Everyone else should, too," Lily said and blinked rapidly. "My father took away her life, Ryland. No one would adopt her and give her a home. No one could adopt her. I don't even know if we can help her. And why would she trust me?"
"I'll go after her," Nicolas said suddenly. Unexpectedly. And unwanted.
Lily tried not to gape in horror. She took a deep breath and let it out. "You just came back from that mission in the Congo, Nico. I know it wasn't pleasant. You need rest, not another mission. I can't ask you to go."
"You didn't ask me, Lily." His black eyes pinned her. Held her. "And you wouldn't ask me, but it doesn't matter. I'm an anchor, and I can handle her. I'm here and on extended leave. I'll go."
Lily wanted to protest but couldn't think of reasons to stop him. It annoyed her that she was so transparent that Nicolas could see she was uneasy around him. It wasn't that she didn't like him, but he frightened her with his too cold eyes and his implacable resolve. It didn't help that she knew his expertise. "I thought Gator would know the area better and find it easier." It was the best excuse she could come up with.
Nicolas simply looked at her. "I'm going after her, Lily. If you need to give me papers to authorize me to get her out of there and bring her here, get them done. I'll leave in an hour."
"Nico," Ryland protested. "You haven't had more than a couple of hours of sleep. You just got home. At least rest tonight."
Lily knew none of the men would argue with Nicolas. They just never did. And she had no good reason to argue with him. Dahlia would be safe with him. She glanced at Gator in the hopes he'd volunteer to go along. He wasn't looking at her. Of course, the men would stand solidly behind Nicolas. She sighed and capitulated. "I'll have Cyrus Bishop draw up the papers giving you the authority to remove her. We know we can trust Cyrus to stay quiet." Lily had taken her time trusting the family lawyer after learning the extent of her father's hidden secrets, uncertain just how deeply Cyrus Bishop had been involved. Experimenting on people, especially children was monstrous, yet Peter Whitney had provided her with a loving home life and a wonderful childhood. She was still struggling to understand the two sides of her father.
Ryland waited until his wife left the room before turning to Nicolas. "If she knew about that little scratch that almost ended your life, she'd be up in arms, Nico."
I have to go, Rye. Nicolas indicated the others as he spoke telepathically to insure privacy. It had taken long months of practice to be able to direct telepathic communication to only one subject and keep the others from hearing, but it was a useful tool, and Nicolas had worked hard to learn the skill. Lily has them all bleeding in sympathy for this woman. Anyone capable of generating an antigravity field or the kind of heat it takes to start a fire or of changing the structure of a cable is dangerous. Every one of the men would hesitate to do whatever was necessary if she turned on them. I won't.
Ryland let his breath out slowly. Nicolas always sounded the same. Calm, unemotional--logical. He wondered what it would take to ever stir Nicolas up and destroy his tranquil nature. I trust you, Nico, but Lily is afraid for this woman. She feels her father robbed Dahlia of everything she deserved. Parents, a home, a family, essentially a life.
He did. Lily takes on his blame, and she shouldn't. She's every bit as much a victim as this poor woman, but none of that changes the danger to anyone trying to persuade Dahlia to leave her only known sanctuary. Don't you see what they've done, Rye? If they're using her as an operative as Lily suspects, they keep her in line because she needs that home out in the swamp. She has no choice but to return to it. She can't live outside of that environment, so she does what they tell her and returns to it. They wouldn't even need to watch her; they'd know she'd have to come back.
Nicolas stood up and stretched, suppressing the wince when his body protested. The bullets had come a little too close to his heart for comfort, and he was still recovering.
He had looked forward to some downtime. His team immediately got to their feet. Ian MacGillicuddy, Tucker Addison, and Gator were all tired and needed rest. He knew they expected to accompany him. Nicolas scowled at them. "Do the lot of you think I can't handle that little woman all by myself?"
The men exchanged grins. "I don't think you can handle any woman, Nico," Tucker answered. "Least of all that little stick of dynamite. We have to go along and make certain she doesn't kick your ass."
"I've gotta agree," Gator said. "She looks like she could do some real damage to a pushover like you."
Ian snorted in derision. "She might run if she saw your sorry face looking at her through the swamp. She'd think you were some swamp monster sent to drag her into the black depths. She needs to see a good-looking man coming to take her home."
"And that wouldn't be you, would it?" Gator nudged him. "I'm familiar with the bayou, Nico, and I know how you get so turned around."
Ryland watched the men laughing and joking with Nicolas. All of them knew Nicolas could be sent out alone in
to the deepest jungle or the broadest expanse of desert for months and always return with the job done. It didn't matter--they could throw everything they could think of at him, and Nicolas would take it all good-naturedly, but in the end, he would leave his team behind.
All of them had pulled duty in the Congo and had spent weeks infiltrating the enemy both in the villages and camps to gain vital information. Using psychic talent for extended periods of time, especially shielding themselves from large groups, was extraordinarily draining. All of them needed rest. Nicolas would see to his men first, and he would protect them from Dahlia Le Blanc in spite of any sympathy they might feel toward her.
Do your best to reassure Lily. Ryland found it much easier to use telepathy these days. The exercises Lily insisted the men do daily had added not only to their control, but to reconstructing a semblance of the barriers her father had brought down in his experiment to enhance them all. Lily worked hard at conditioning them, hoping to give them the necessary tools to be able to live in the world with families and friends. In the meantime, she generously shared her home and her time, working with them all. It only made him love her more. He wanted Nicolas to find a way to reassure Lily. Nicolas wasn't the type of man to lie even to make Lily feel better.
If it's at all possible, I'll bring Dahlia back to her. That's the best I can do.
Ryland nodded to him and left the men to their teasing. He glanced up at a camera and waved in case Arly, their security man, was watching as he went in search of his wife. He found her in their bedroom, staring out the large bay window at the rolling lawns below.
"Lily, he promised he'd bring her home to you."
She didn't turn around. "It isn't that I don't like him, Ryland. I hope you know that. I hope he knows it. It's just that he can be so unemotional. She needs someone to love her and care about all the things she's been through. I don't think Nicolas is capable of that kind of compassion."
"So you think the reason he's leaving his men behind is duty? He looks out for them, watches over them. He takes every dangerous job himself, Lily, and believe me, what you're asking is very dangerous, very high risk."
"He's capable of killing her," she protested.
"And she's just as capable of killing him."
Lily looked at him with sorrow in her eyes. "What did my father do?"
CHAPTER TWO
The boat pushed through the green sludge of the Louisiana bayou, the motor chugging slowly and steadily. The sky had turned from blue to an incredible collage of pinks, reds, and oranges. Night closed in fast, and the swamp was already stirring to life. Snakes plopped into the water and alligators roared to one another before sliding into the algae-covered bogs. The air was heavy with moisture, so hot the heat seeped through Nicolas's clothes. Sweat trickled down his skin and beaded on his chest and belly. Insects swarmed in clouds over the waters so that the fish jumped at them and bats swooped low. The boat continued the journey through the maze of canals toward the small island Nicolas was searching for.
A variety of birds inhabited the swamp and most ignored his presence, but a few larger species shook wings and flew off in a huff as if disturbed by the sight of him. Egrets, cormorants, herons, and ibises took to the air, flying over the swamp to a new location. Frogs took up a chorus of croaking, the sound swelling in volume. Gray moss hung in strands from the branches of trees, looking like macabre stickmen in the gathering darkness. Nicolas found a certain beauty in the unusual surroundings. He noted several species of turtles and lizards, some swimming, but most on logs or in trees.
As the boat moved up the channel, Nicolas peered down at the water, fascinated at how it appeared to be a black mirror, reflecting the trees and the violent colors of the sky. He had always enjoyed the solitude of his profession. He found peace in nature, and the bayou offered a startling glimpse into another world. He had been reared in a world apart, accompanying his grandfather into the mountains for weeks, even months. Those were joyous times, a young boy learning from an elder wise in the ways of the land, even as he could run free and play like the child he was. Nicolas smiled at the memories and offered up a silent thanks to his grandfather, long gone from him, but always held close.
Nicolas knew he belonged in the wilderness. It was where he felt most at home. He often thought he belonged in another era when there were fewer people and much more wilderness. He was grateful to Lily for the use of her home and for the work she did to enable all of them to live in the outside world. Her father's experiment had opened their brains to continuous assaults from the people around them, and they needed the home and training Lily provided. But Nicolas still had trouble being in such close proximity to so many others--it had little to do with the enhancement and everything to do with his background and nature. Volunteering to retrieve the woman in the sanitarium was not just about saving his teammates from their own compassion. It was necessary to be able to get away on his own where he felt he could breathe.
Twice Nicolas consulted the map Lily had provided for him. In the maze of channels and canals, it was easy to lose one's way. Some of the channels were so narrow the boat barely scraped through, while others were wide enough to be considered a lake.
Lily's father, Dr. Whitney, had deliberately hidden the sanitarium on an island, mostly marshland, overgrown and still primitive. It was so deep in the labyrinth of canals that even the local hunters had only a vague idea of where it was located. Lily had found the detailed map in the Trust papers, but even with the map and his unerring sense of direction, Nicolas was having a difficult time finding the right island. He was still searching when night fell, darkening the swamp and complicating his mission. Twice he had to pull the boat through waist-deep, reed-choked channels, and even with the occasional sliver of light from the moon, it was difficult to see if the dark shapes in the water were alligators or floating logs.
As the boat rounded a small island he caught sight of several birds lifting into the sky from somewhere behind a thick stand of trees. At once his skin prickled and his belly churned. Nicolas shut off the boat's motor. He drifted, waiting in silence, listening to the sounds of the wetlands. Insects had been humming and frogs croaking. They went silent now. Nicolas immediately slid low in the boat so that his body would be much more difficult to detect. He could slide into the water if necessary--he had been close to alligators on more than one occasion--but he wanted to keep his weapons dry if at all possible.
Nicolas avoided the pier and dock and the worn ribbon of a trail leading toward the center of the island. He knew most of the island was spongy and probably filled with sinkholes an unwary traveler could fall into, but it was safer there than being on a path where someone might be waiting in ambush. And he was very certain someone was waiting in the heavy shrubbery.
He eased the boat into a small inlet several hundred yards from the dock and around a bend, out of sight. Nicolas slipped into knee-deep water, pulling the boat behind him to tie up to a tree. It was a slow process, taking care not to splash as he slogged through the mire until he was on higher ground. It was still a bog. Grass grew wild and tall and a multitude of shrubbery and flowers filled in spaces the trees didn't take up.
Nicolas moved in silence, as he had most of his life. He had grown up on the reservation and spent much of his childhood with his shaman grandfather who believed in the old ways. He automatically avoided dry twigs and leaves, and with his enhanced abilities, he was able to keep wildlife from giving away his presence as he made his way across the spongy marsh toward higher ground where the sanitarium was located.
He heard gunshots in the distance. Birds screeched and rose like a cloud into the air. Nicolas ran toward the sound, closing in on the building. The bushes and trees grew much thicker on the high ground, obviously planted and coaxed into wide fences, obscuring vision of the large structure. As he pushed through a thick hedge of saw grass, he heard the distinct crackle of a radio and instantly dropped down, remaining motionless until he could determine the exact position o
f the guard.
Sound carried at night, especially on water. The guard was more interested in the action taking place in the building then he was in watching the water. His gaze kept straying toward higher ground and twice he swore under his breath, stroking his gun.
Nicolas let his breath out slowly. This was no amateur hit. No drug addicts looking for money. This was a professional cleanup crew, moving with military precision, hitting hard and fast and leaving only the dead behind. Lily had made inquiries in the wrong places, and a team must have been sent out to dispose of all evidence. Dahlia Le Blanc was on a hit list and the squad was taking her out. His warning radar was shrieking at him. He had stumbled into the middle of a high-level operation.
Nicolas had no way of knowing if Dahlia had been caught inside the sanitarium or if by some miracle she had been outside. She had training and skill and was obviously quite dangerous. The fact that there were fires breaking out inside the building might mean she was still alive and fighting back. Whatever the case, he couldn't afford to waste time. He had to get past the guard and go to her aid.
It took maneuvering to get within striking distance of his prey. Nicolas lay in the open, only feet from the guard. He wished he had Dahlia's ability to blur her image. Instead, he counted on his talent to persuade his enemy to look the other way. He whispered the suggestion even as he "pushed" at the guard's mind to stay focused on the water. The guard was vibrating with excitement, impatient to make a kill. Any kill.
Nicolas rose up out of the bog like a giant shadow, enveloping the man, swallowing him, his hands fast and his blade sharp. He murmured to the earth and sky his plea for forgiveness and offered the universe his regret at taking a life even as he lowered the body silently to the marshy water and moved on.