Read Online Twisted Miracles by A. J. Larrieu - Free Book Online Page A

it.
    “You’re not recovered yet.” Shane was trying to make his tone reasonable, but it wasn’t working. He hadn’t even noticed me yet. Thank God. I was having enough trouble suppressing what had almost happened the night before without encountering his memories of it, too. “You need to rest. Bunny told us you shouldn’t exert yourself. If you want to heal—”
    “How would I be exerting myself?” Mina snapped.
    “Who says you wouldn’t be? No.”
    “Who says you get to decide?”
    “Fine.” He picked up the coffeepot from the warmer and stalked out into the dining room. His eyes caught mine as he went by, and his gaze was so dark, I pressed back against the wall.
    I understood where he was coming from. The night before, Mina had been so weak he’d had to carry her up the stairs, and she’d fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep almost as soon as he’d gotten her to bed. He’d stayed up all night beside her, terrified she’d slip back into a coma. I hadn’t slept either. Worry for Mina would have been enough to keep me awake, but Shane’s mental turmoil had been like a siren.
    “He’s only worried about you,” Lionel said. “We all are.”
    Mina sighed and rubbed her head. The sight of it so bare was unnerving. Bunny’d had to shave her hair off—it had been too tangled and clotted with sticks and leaves to save. “Yeah. I know.”
    When Shane came back in with an empty coffeepot and another stack of dirty dishes, Mina went to him and took his hands. “It’s my choice. Okay?”
    I caught Lionel’s mental message to Shane. “ It can’t hurt. ”
    “ Sure it can. ”
    “ She’ll be fine. ”
    Shane’s lips went thin, but he looked at Mina’s face and nodded.
    “Jesus,” Mina huffed. “That only took half an hour.” Lionel shot her a look, and she said, “Thanks,” with considerably more grace.
    “Go on,” Bruce said. “I’ll handle the guests.”
    Lionel wiped his hands on a dishrag, and he and Shane each took one of Mina’s hands. I hesitated, not sure if she was including me, not sure if I wanted to be included. Back when I still used my powers, we’d swapped memories all the time—sometimes it was easier to watch a story play out in your friend’s head. Since I left, the most I’d done was catch the peaks of people’s thoughts, the ecstatic or terrible moments they rolled over and over in their minds for days after the event, stripped bare of the attached story. And I’d spent five years learning how to ignore even those. I wasn’t sure I could do this.
    “Come on, Cass.” Shane put his free hand on my shoulder. I put my palm on Mina’s forearm and dove in.
    Lionel’s messy kitchen slipped away, and I was out on the river in Mina’s bateau, bundled up against the predawn cold.
    Riding memories was like watching a badly edited film. It wasn’t smooth. Mina’s thoughts skipped from memorable moment to memorable moment, leaving out the stream of triviality in between. She was riding upriver, waving at a fellow fisherman as she searched for a new spot; she was hooking a worm; her line jerked in muddy water; she reeled in a bream and splashed the leg of her jeans. Then came a strange feeling, a kind of low-pitched buzzing deep in her head. I recognized it at once as the humming sensation of another converter using his powers.
    The feeling was tinged with hurry and fear, someone in trouble. Mina cranked the motor and headed in the direction of the buzzing, which got stronger and more unpleasant as she went. The source was close by, but not on the water. She took off her life vest and left it with the boat, clambered onto the bank and stepped around the rotting shack. For a fraction of a second I saw the face of a man, fifty yards away through the sparse underbrush. He had unkempt brown hair and the tired, weathered skin of someone aged beyond his years. He seemed to look at Mina without seeing her, his eyes unfocused and blank. Then my whole body exploded in pain and