"I knew it was you." Thomas's words made Lissianna whirl toward the door as he and the rest of the younger set entered.
"I heard your car," he explained.
It was Mirabeau who frowned and said, "Lissi, you're broadcasting fear and panic, you'd better control yourself before you have Marguerite and Lucian up here."
Lissianna clamped down on the panic that had erupted inside her at the sight of Greg tied to the bed, then forced herself to breathe steadily and concentrate on guarding her thoughts. Strong emotions were always easier to read. They seemed to broadcast themselves so that one of her kind needn't even be trying to read thoughts to receive them. The last thing she needed was to have her mother, Martine, or Uncle Lucian pick up the waves of emotion and come to investigate. And, somehow, she had to be sure that Greg didn't broadcast his thoughts either if she was to get him out of this mess.
Chapter 14
Greg was relieved to see Lissianna...until he noted the way she blanched at the sight of his again being tied down. He'd feared it wasn't good, but her reaction seemed to verify it. His gaze slid over the others, who were now eyeing his situation with much the same reaction. He gave his ties a tug, and said wearily, "This is a bad thing, huh?"
No one answered, but after a hesitation, Lissianna moved to the bed and set to work untying his wrists, saying, "I need you to not think."
"'Not think?" he asked with disbelief. "How am I supposed to not think?"
"Recite something."
Greg's mind immediately went blank. "What do 1 recite?"
"I don't care," she sounded impatient, but paused and said more calmly. "A poem, or nursery rhyme or... anything. It doesn't matter, just recite something and concentrate wholly on what you're reciting. It's the only way to keep you from broadcasting what you're thinking to my mother and Lucian and inadvertently let them know what's going on. So, if you want to get out of here, I need you to listen to me and do exactly what I tell you, but without thinking; I need you to concentrate wholly on whatever you recite. Do you understand?"
"Yes." Greg nodded, then admitted, "But, I don't know if I can."
"You have to if you want out of here alive," she said grimly.
"Recite one hundred bottles of beer on the wall," Thomas suggested, moving forward now to help untie him.
"Thomas." Lissianna straightened to face him. "You can't help with this. You--" She paused and glanced over the six people in the room besides herself and Greg. "You all have to go downstairs right now and stay out of this."
Mirabeau snorted and moved forward to untie one of Greg's ankles. "Not likely."
"Mirabeau, this is serious," she tried reasoning. "Really, really serious. This isn't just about defying my mother now. Uncle Lucian--"
"Oh, shut up, Lissi," Elspeth snapped, moving forward to work on Greg's other ankle. "Why should you have all the fun?"
"Besides"--Juli shifted her aside and set to work at finishing untying the wrist Lissianna had started on-- "one for all and all for one, remember?"
"We like Greg," Vicki told her, patting her shoulder as if to soothe her. "None of us want to see him suffer a 'council of three' either."
The tension was suddenly thick in the air, and the grim expressions on those around him were frightening, but it was Lissianna's expression that distressed him the most. She was scared, and he suspected there wasn't a lot that scared her. He also very much feared she was scared for him, not herself.
'"What's a council of three?" he asked, suspecting he wouldn't like the answer.
"Three council members merging with one mortal's mind at the same time," Vicki answered. "Some mortals can resist or block one of our kind, but no one can block or resist three working together."
"What does it do?"
"It destroys the psyche; the person becomes a Renfield."
Greg supposed "a Renfield" was their way to refer to someone driven mad by their messing with the mind. He couldn't be positive however, because when he opened his mouth to ask, Mirabeau snapped, "Recite."
"One hundred bottles of beer on the wall," Greg began, and continued to recite as they worked at getting him free, but found it difficult. He wasn't used to not thinking, and there were all kinds of thoughts and questions swarming in his head. Most of them had to do with the fact that he had no desire to be "a Renfield."
Greg was at ninety-two bottles of beer when the last tie was removed.
Someone has to go down and find out what's going on and be sure they aren't aware Lissianna's back," Thomas said, as Greg sat up on the bed.
"I'll do it," Mirabeau offered. "I'm the oldest and might be able to read more than the rest of you."