It was strange, and I’d felt it a few times since I’d started trying to help her sleep more. I’d tune into her mind, so I could rest but would wake if she became agitated.
The problem was that each time I attempted to guide her away from a nightmare, toward something more restful, it took more effort than it should have.
I’d done this with extremely powerful minds in the past and never struggled—my skills were unmatched—yet Yun felt like an unruly stallion I had to drag by the reins.
No matter how hard I tried to understand, it made no sense.
Tonight proved even more challenging, like each day my ability to affect her weakened.
Why?
Was it because of our closeness? Our bond? That should make it easier to affect her, not harder.
I reached into her mind, using all my focus to grip her thoughts, to move them from whatever horror rested there, but somethingelselurked in her gray matter. It felt twisted, dark, and it shoved me backward so hard that I found myself clutching my skull, leaning forward and panting on the bed.
What the hell just happened?
I set a hand on her shoulder and woke her with a shake. Whatever the nightmare was, it wouldn’t be good for her.
She came awake with a start, but she didn’t shock me with her powers. She jerked upright, breathing hard, but the moment her gaze landed on me she relaxed. “Was I screaming?”
“No.”
“Oh, that’s good.” She rubbed her eyes, taking it all in stride a little too easily.
“What are your nightmares like?”
She frowned. “I thought you would know that, since you’ve been in my head.”
“I did, at first. Now, though? I can’t seem to slip into them, it’s like they’re protected somehow.”
She dragged her tongue over her lip, a nervous habit I’d noticed from her. “I don’t know why.” Even as she said that, some part of her seemed to suspect something.
“You know something. You should tell me.”
She crossed her legs, a sure sign that she knew she wouldn’t get back to sleep. “You know I don’t like mentalists.”
“The corrupted who hurt you was one, right?”
Her eyes widened, but quickly she laughed as though she should have known I’d work it out. “That obvious, huh?”
“There were some signs.”
“The dreams feel so real, like I’m still trapped there, like he’s talking to me.”
“How did it happen?”
She took her bottom lip between her teeth, as though she struggled with whether to share. I got that, since it seemed as though she rarely—if ever—told anyone the full story.
I stayed out of her mind, not wanting to risk her retreating any further. If she felt me there, if she suspected I worked to pull the details out myself, any trust we had developed would melt away.
“I grew up in San Diego,” she said, her voice soft in the dim room. “So like most of the city, I ended up trapped inside when The Pitt opened last time.”
That much I had expected, given the facts we’d gathered. I said nothing, giving her the space to keep speaking on her own.
“My parents and I tried to make it toward the portal, but we were separated. There were monsters, they told me to run a different way, and…” She paused, then took a deep, shuddering breath. “I heard my mother scream, but I never saw them again.”
“How did you get out? There were espers looking for civilians, but the number lost was high.”
