Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 131364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
The woman—Saoirse—glanced over at Dahlia, who’d changed into jeans and a T-shirt, to Bram’s great disappointment. “He always this much of a smartass?”
“How should I know?” Dahlia scowled.
Shrugging, Saoirse said, “I mean, I’m no vulture or bear, but even I can smell you on him. And those look like talon marks on his shoulders, and oh gee”—a tone dryer than the desert—“that’s either a hickey on your neck or you need immediate medical attention.”
Dahlia shot the other woman the finger.
Apparently unbothered, Saoirse held up the ridiculous tinfoil creation. “This is not what it looks like.”
Bram rubbed his face, suddenly understanding what humans meant when they said it was their dicks that had led them astray. “What is it, then?”
“A new alloy we’re testing for jet heat shields,” she said. “Flexible and extremely strong. Protects against radiation, so I figure why not try to see if it protects against Psy energy?”
“An external shield?” Bram looked up, interested despite himself. He’d never even considered a prosthetic of sorts—everything about the Psy came from the inside.
Saoirse’s expression was grim. “It has to be external. Even if I had the best idea on the planet for an internal shield, there’s no time. Adam’s just taken off for the hospital—Dr. Czajka says Eleri’s declining.”
Bram’s shoulder muscles locked. “Go, do your test.” Already, the pressure of the people nearby was beginning to impact him. He couldn’t hear anyone, but the murmur in the background was a constant.
Sooner or later, the murmurs would break through, crush his mind.
He wanted to be gone before then, did not intend to leave this world a raving lunatic. “Wait—do you know if Saffron and Yúzé are still at the hospital?”
“No, the doctor mentioned her friends left an hour prior to help another J, but told her they’d return the instant they’d pulled their colleague out of a high-risk situation.”
That was what the Cartel had vowed once they’d all slipped into Sensitivity: that if there was a way to help a young J, a J who might make it, they had to take action.
Now, Bram said, “Good.” Better that the two most fractured members of the Cartel didn’t see Eleri die; they were going to be messed up enough as it was losing both Eleri and Bram at once.
“Dahlia says your shields are thin?” Saoirse’s direct tone was that of a scientist. “I need a baseline—or you do—to judge the functionality of my attempts.”
“There’s pressure on my mind,” Bram admitted. “Hundreds of murmurs, from the Canyon and around Raintree. I can’t hear anyone, but if you put an unshielded human in this room with me, it won’t be murmurs, it’ll be words breaking through.”
Dahlia sucked in a breath. “I’ll take you outside,” she said, her voice rough. “If it comes to that, I’ll put you in the car and drive you out into the middle of the desert where the only other mind is mine.”
Bram held her gaze, so dark and lovely. “Thank you.” Then he turned to Saoirse. “If the murmurs cut out or fade, it’s a success. If not, a failure. Trust me, I’ll notice any fluctuation.”
Nodding, she took the ridiculous helmet and placed it on his head, doing something to seal it around his skull. “So?”
“No change.”
“Damn.” With that single word, she removed the helmet and put it to one side before pulling out a square of an unknown material from the box. “I only had time to make one actual helmet, chose the material that seemed most apt to work, but I have samples of other materials. If I hold them against your skull, will you be able to tell if one works as a blocker?”
“I don’t know,” Bram said honestly. “But we can attempt it.”
Seven samples later and the entire room was dispirited…and Dahlia had come to stand by him and run her fingers gently along his scalp, through the hair he kept buzzed military short. It had gone gray when he was only twenty-five, after two brutal reads in a row that involved a total of seventeen murdered and dismembered victims.
“I look that bad?” he asked her, his eyes closing under the pleasure of her touch.
He didn’t even care that the ripple of sensation was destroying even more of his shields.
“Be quiet,” she said, but her voice was soft, and she leaned down to whisper in his ear. “If Saoirse figures out a solution, then I owe you another round.”
His skin prickled, a pumping beat in his blood. “It’s a deal,” he said, though he was all but certain he’d never get to collect. Still, it was a nice dream to have for the last minutes and hours he’d spend on this planet.
While Saoirse and Naia were talking at the other end of the room, near the box of supplies, he cupped the back of Dahlia’s thigh with his palm and just drank her in. Another moment of lush softness with a woman unlike any he’d met in his life. “I could touch you forever.”