The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions Book 2) by Anna Zaires, Dima Zales Read Free Book Online

blabbed, but they don’t now. And I’m sure those that did back then were burned at the stake, tortured, or had something equally unpleasant done to them by the ancient Readers. Our ancestors were pretty hardcore in that regard. Back then, for example, you’d get killed for fucking someone other than your assigned mate. And they wouldn’t kill just you—they’d kill the person you slept with. I think the reason no one ever does what you describe is that we all know this brutal history. Strictly speaking, no official has ever said, ‘We don’t do that to traitors anymore.’ So I’m telling you the truth: I’ve never heard of any modern-day lapses. We’ve looked into a few psychics who talked about reading minds, but it always turned out to be some lowlife con artist trying to scam people out of money, not Readers doing something they shouldn’t.”
    His eyes flash darkly when he mentions the psychics. I wonder what he did to them. I don’t want to ask. I’ve had enough Caleb-related violence for one day.
    “Okay, thanks. That explains it, I guess. Now, just one more thing I wanted to ask you,” I say tentatively, unsure how to go about this.
    He lifts his eyebrows in a silent question.
    “Can I have a gun?” I say it quickly, deciding to just blurt it out. As I say the words, I can’t help staring at his glove compartment.
    “You mean that gun?” he says, following my gaze.
    “Any gun will do.” I’m happy he doesn’t seem too pissed to learn I’ve been snooping. “That gun’s a revolver. They have simple mechanisms that should function in the Quiet—I mean, the Mind Dimension.”
    “Most guns work in the Mind Dimension,” he says. “Fine. Take it—quickly, before I change my mind.”
    I grab the gun and exit the car. I tuck the weapon into the waistband at the back of my pants, feeling very gangster all of a sudden.
    “Take the coffee too,” he says, handing me the cup. “It was for you. Good luck in there.”
    Before I get a chance to reply, he reaches over and shuts the passenger door, almost in my face. Then the car takes off, leaving a faint smell of burning rubber in its wake.
    As he leaves, I remember another related question. What happens to the people to whom the hypothetically traitorous Reader tells the secret of our existence? I guess Caleb wouldn’t know, since he’s never dealt with anything like that. Or so he says. I can’t imagine it would be anything good. All the more reason to dissuade the shrink of my earlier revelations. I don’t want her to get hurt—she’s done right by me, even though I think she’s full of shit most of the time.
    I walk over and sit down on a bench in the park to think things over while sipping the lukewarm coffee.
    It’s 7:28 a.m. Mira and Eugene are probably still sleeping, like most normal people. If I do what I’m planning, Mira might be upset for more reasons than just my Pushing yesterday. But then again, I doubt I can make things worse—and I have a feeling that the element of surprise will be to my advantage.
    Convinced, I sit up and, using the above-average anxiety I’m feeling at the moment, phase into the Quiet. As the sounds of the street go away, I walk toward the building.
    The gun helps when it comes to opening the downstairs door. It also works like a charm on the lock of the door to their apartment. My ears still ringing from the gunshot only I could hear, I gingerly enter the apartment, thinking that it’s a good thing the damage will automatically be repaired when I phase back to normal.
    I begin to question the sanity of my plan again as soon as I walk into what has to be Mira’s bedroom.
    Mira is asleep on a gray futon. Her room is much less messy than the apartment overall. So it seems like the mess I noticed the other day is more Eugene’s fault.
    I’m cognizant of a lacy bra and thong lying on the chair next to the bed. I didn’t think this part of the idea through. I’m in luck, though. She’s clearly not