Page 134 of Power of the Mind

I froze, instantly on alert. What time was it? Late. Too late. After hours late.

“I’ll get it,” Tallus called.

A chill raced up my spine. A premonition. An omen. A sick sense of foreboding.

But when I gathered my senses and realized something wasn’t right, I was too late to stop him.

31

Tallus

Ihopped off the loveseat and aimed for the door. In my world, visitors were the norm. I didn’t flinch when my buzzer sounded. Memphis showed up at random and rarely gave me a heads-up. My mother tended to stop by with leftovers regularly, knowing my poor budgeting skills meant my fridge was perpetually empty. Plus, my online spending habits meant I had developed a close acquaintance with the UPS driver in my area.

If someone knocked, I answered. All quite routine.

It didn’t dawn on me that people showing up at Diem’s office after hours was irregular or suspicious and should be treated with caution until I flung the door open and had a six-inch filet knife pressed against my abdomen.

“Get inside. Now,” hissed Hilty as he nervously glanced down the deserted hallway. “Hurry up. I’m not playing games.”

Extending my hands submissively, I backed up, a cold sweat blistering to life along my upper lip. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on.” I chuckled nervously. “We’re cool. Put the knife away.”

“Shut up and move.”

I did as I was told.

Hilty entered with me, slamming the door behind, gaze flicking nervously around the room. “Where’s your partner? The big guy.”

“D-Diem?” I shouted. “You, um… You have company.”

A large shadow appeared in my peripheral vision, blocking the entrance to Diem’s personal quarters and casting a long, bulky shadow across the floor. I shifted, intent on offering a warning, but the instant I moved, Hilty grabbed the back of my shirt and hauled me in front of him, using me as a shield and pressing the thin, curved blade to my throat.

“Stop,” the doctor hissed. “Don’t get any closer.”

Diem froze, fingers splayed at his side to show he didn’t carry a weapon, face the picture of pure, undiluted rage. He looked like a man who could single-handedly take on an army of thousands. A vein pulsed at his temple. His nostrils flared. Every muscle along his arms, from wrists to shoulders, pulled taut, bulging and filling with blood in preparation for a fight.

Diem was a bowstring, waiting to release amassed energy on a target. He was a bull, readying for the moment to charge. He was a rocket, seconds from blasting into oblivion.

Diem was a bomb set to explode.

For the first time, I saw the façade of the dangerous man he’d warned me about.

“W-what do you want?” I stammered, doing all I could to keep my neck away from the blade’s razor-sharp edge. But with every swallow, cold metal met skin, threatening to cut.

“Do you have any idea the shit storm you two have created?” Hilty asked, spitting his words.

“Put the fucking knife down right now.” Diem enunciated each word in a low, dangerous tone. “I won’t ask twice.”

“Guns. Don’t do anything stupid.” The Diem he’d warned me about would raze the ground if provoked, uncaring of casualties or consequences. And he was who stood before me.

Diem’s hands curled into tight fists, knuckles popping, lip hooked in a snarl.

“D… Diem. Please. Don’t do anything stupid. Think.”

“Listen to your friend,” Hilty said. “I don’t want to hurt him, but I will if I have to. Right now, I want to talk, so stay over there. If you get any closer—”

“Diem,” I shouted, cutting Hilty off when the enraged man, my protector, stepped forward. “Diem, no. Look at me. Guns. I know you hear me. Look at me.”

It took a painfully long moment, but Diem’s gaze shifted from Hilty. Storms. Turbulent oceans. Violent and perilous. Ones feared by sane sailors. That was what I saw reflected in his irises. I wasn’t sure I had the power to take the wind out of his sail, to bring him back to solid ground.

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