Page 135 of Power of the Mind

“Count, D. Back from ten. Let go of the rage and think. For me.”

Could he hear me? Did he understand?

“Breathe. In and out. Hilty won’t hurt me. He promised.”

I hoped it was true. Based on the deep, resonating tremble vibrating through the doctor’s body and into mine, I thought the man’s bravado didn’t match his actions. In fact, if I had to guess, Hilty seemed as frightened as me. It was a terrifying notion. What if, with his nerves on edge, the doctor accidentally nicked me with the knife. He could hit an artery. I could die. Diem, who cared for me more than he could admit, would unleash the fires of hell. The elderly hypnotist wouldn’t survive.

But neither would Diem.

“Ten,” I prompted, hoping he would copy. “Nine… Come on, Guns. Eight…”

By seven, the snarling mammoth of a man was mouthing the numbers along with me through gritted teeth.

By five, the bear let go of his hold, and Diem’s fists loosened.

By three, his breathing evened out.

By one, he refocused on Hilty, voice calmer, more negotiable and less threatening. “Put the knife down.”

“I can’t do that. No offense, buddy, but I don’t trust you, and I need you to listen to everything I’m about to say.”

“We’re listening,” I assured him. “Diem, tell him we’re listening. Tell him you aren’t a threat.”

“I’m not the one with the fucking knife,” he spat, temper momentarily slipping.

“I know, but you’re the bigger risk.” I laughed nervously. “Trust me, Guns.”

“I’m listening,” Diem said to Hilty, never taking his eyes off the blade at my throat.

“Good. I’m going to lower the knife, and you’re going to stay over there, understand?”

The scent of sweat and fear poured off the old doctor, but when Diem nodded, the press of the blade vanished. Hilty kept me as a shield, one hand wound around the back of my shirt, securing me in place.

He pointed the knife at Diem, reminding him to keep a distance.

“I don’t know who you two are or what you think you’re doing, but it needs to stop right now. Do you hear me?”

Diem narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Who hired you?”

“What?”

“Who hired you?” The knife in Hilty’s hand trembled along with his voice. “You said you were investigators. You said you were looking into my ex-wife. Who hired you?”

Diem’s gaze flashed briefly to me. “No one,” he spat.

“Don’t lie to me.” Hilty returned the knife to my throat, pressing harder.

“I hired him,” I squeaked. “It was me.”

“Tallus!” Diem took a step forward.

“Stay back,” Hilty shouted, retreating with me in tow. The movement jarred the blade hard against my throat. A sudden sting erupted along my neck. He’d nicked me.

I jerked, trying to escape the knife’s edge, but Hilty countered the movement, and again, the blade scored my flesh.

My glasses were falling. They sat at an odd angle, warping my vision. I couldn’t distinguish Diem’s features, but he’d stopped moving. I got the sense he’d noticed the injury.

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