was given the information by someone with a much bigger agenda.”

My thoughts stumbled over that unexpected piece of information. “Wait,

what?”

“Do you think the U.S. Military is the only one who’s thought of utilizing psychics?” She arched a brow. “Six years ago, Ellery’s name came up for

consideration for PSY-IV. He didn’t make the cut.” She uncrossed and re-crossed

her legs, her unusually restless movement revealing her discomfort. “However, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t approached by another interested party. One whose

goals don’t align with ours.”

“A psychic version of ‘Come to the dark side’?” It made sense, in a twisted

sort of way.

Tag choked on a bite as he tried to smother a laugh.

Even Delacourt’s lips twitched. Barely. “Instead of cookies, they offer money

and power.”

“For a price.”

“For a price,” she agreed.

Implications, scary and too numerous to count, swirled around that bit of information. Dragging my brain back on track, I decided to pursue a different avenue. “Why didn’t he make the cut?”

Something grim wiped away her brief show of humor, leaving it shadowed.

“His ability was deemed too unreliable to be an asset to the unit.”

“Why?” How did one determine a psychic ability ‘unreliable’? Since mine

appeared to have a mind of its own for the most part, it was easy to assume most

abilities would be considered ‘unreliable’.

“Judging psychic ability isn’t easy, and no matter how much we want to try

and explain it, it’s not a science, not yet,” she explained. “When Ellery’s ability

came to light under evaluation, it registered on the lower end. Unfortunately, we

learned the hard way that his particular talent grows and evolves with use.”

She templed her fingers under her chin. “Abilities can vary equally in

strength and inherent weaknesses. Some will exact a steeper cost than others.”

Her glance slid over Tag and Kayden who were quietly listening to our

conversation. “For example, a strong touch empath can lose his sense of self in

another’s emotions. That fear will keep them from physically touching another person.”

Tag shifted in his chair, but I kept my attention on Delacourt.

“A seer,” she continued, “may fall so deep into the maze of possible futures,

her mind will fracture. Whereas someone who is a pre-cog will see only an individual’s immediate future based on their most recent choices, so the chances

of a mental break are much, much lower. Healing empaths will take on grievous

wounds, and the price they’ll pay is sacrificing a percentage of their life expectancy. Yet, the flip side of that deal is that they can’t heal themselves. The

ability to create fire can literally burn a pyrotechnic from the inside out if the wielder loses control.”

My stomach roiled at the picture painted by her words. “And for Ellery?”

“Schizophrenia.” This time it was Kayden who answered, his voice hard.

“There’s a reason his designation is Syphon. When he drains his victims, he not

only absorbs their ability, but takes in bits and pieces of what makes them them.

As he collects abilities, the lines between his personality and those of his victims start to blur until there are so many voices in his head, he can no longer hear his

own.”

My cheeseburger threatened to make a comeback. Worried the slightest

movement might encourage it, I held still. It took serious concentration to breathe through the nauseating paralysis as the reality of the dangers I faced set

in. “Was Ellery using Mike’s ability to try and heal himself?”

“It’s a possibility,” Delacourt said. “But if he did, it didn’t help.”

“It made it worse,” Kayden supplied.

The concept that I was being hunted by a schizophrenic sociopath had

poisonous fear seeping under my skin, burrowing through bone and sinew, only

to sink its fangs deep.

You’ve survived worse, my survival instinct whispered.