“Hey, I said you called in the big guns. Your mom is a tough cookie, but when you’ve got a big monster, you go for the biggest weapon you have. That’s Jones.” He continued to stare at the man, committing everything he could to memory, although he knew this was just a memory—a child’s memory—and it was entirely possible, and likely, that Jillian wasn’t recalling things clearly.
White male. Blond. Possibly around six feet, but hard to say from a distance. Lean build. Suit.
“A monster,” Jillian whispered again. And the chaos of her mind returned, and the crystalline clarity of the memory started to fracture. It hazed, covered by a wash of blood.
He’ll kill them . . .
That whisper echoed through him, growing in volume until it was a roar. And then, just like that, it was done. Over and done.
It was one thing he couldn’t quite define, knowing the sync had completed, that he’d been fully imprinted with the needed gift. Maybe it was just an instinctive thing, but as Jillian’s voice continued to echo through his mind, he tore away from her, shoving away from the table. He stumbled exactly three steps before he went to his knees.
Then his hands came out, just barely catching himself before he would have smashed his face into the ground.
He’ll kill them, Joss . . .
For long moments, he hovered there, the neurons in his brain all but shrieking from the overload. Too much, too much, too much—
Cold whispers danced down his spine, and he shoved a wall up. No time to deal with the ghosts just yet, and fortunately, that was one mess he knew how to handle. He could shut it off better than Dez could, too, maybe because he was a callous son of a bitch who wouldn’t have to handle having a ghost haunt him for the rest of his life.
Groaning, he eased into a sitting position and buried his face in his hands while the voices continued to shriek in his mind. Too many. Coming from everywhere.
Even Jillian’s carefully soft voice was too loud.
Dez was at the table, staring at him, and through her eyes, he was treated to a visual of how he looked—Damn, he’s white as a ghost himself now. What in the hell . . .
Her mental voice was just too loud, though. Too loud, too much. Had to shut it down. Carefully, he eased up thicker shields, although it just barely managed to muffle the louder voices coming from Dez and people out in the hallway and surrounding rooms.
“How do you block them out?” Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on that one minor thing. Had to do that first or he’d go crazy. Everybody worked differently and he needed to know what worked for her.
“Doors,” Jillian said simply.
He nodded and pictured one giant, motherfucking door, slamming shut. The cacophonic noise inside his head faded to a dull roar.
“Thank God.” He swiped shaking hands down his sweating face. It wasn’t enough, nowhere near enough, but it was a start. The second he closed his eyes, he saw that flash again, that man. And he wondered if Jillian could sleep without nightmares about him.
“Where were you?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
She closed her eyes and lowered her head, resting it on the table. “Disney World. Mom and Dad took me to Disney World. We were by the castle when I saw him.”
He wanted to puke.
The memory of her terror, as she stood in a place that should have just held joy.
Just a kid.
But he realized she was right. She had more control than he did, because she’d been living with that horror in her mind. Somehow. And it hadn’t broken her.
The weight of her gift was a pressure inside his skull, stretching and moving inside him like a leviathan, and he didn’t know if he could contain it. Even with the presence of that door in his mind, he could feel everybody, and it was too much.
Dez, Taige, Jones. An odd blank spot that he recognized as Jillian’s father, only because he’d inherited that recognition from Jilly. Spread out, all around him, like stars in the night sky, were others.
“Show me how you shut your door,” he said gruffly. He’d work on the technique until he had one that suited him, but for now, he’d take the cues from her.
Jillian’s mind opened for him. Welcomed him. And he saw the door . . . it was like