One Crossroads Later

Chapter Eleven

"Are you okay? We didn't hurt you, did we?"

Flynn heard Robin's voice, even though he didn't see Robin's mouth move. The expression on his immortal brother's face matched the concern in his words, though Flynn couldn't help but ask a question that might worry him further.

"What the hell just happened, and why can I hear you talking in my head?"

Robin stopped and took a half step backward. It looked instinctual, and though Flynn's psyche nearly begged for an explanation, he felt like he'd passed through something not easily explained. As he glanced from Robin to the other two people in the room, he remembered what had brought him there and even recalled the brief conversation he'd had with Monica. How long ago was that?

"Yesterday, believe it or not," Monica said, chancing closer and not as easily intimidated. She walked to the bedside and gestured at the strap around his wrist. "Can I take this off now, or do you still feel you want to snap my neck?"

He blinked. "Did I say that?" Flynn asked. "That feels like something I'd say."

"You shouted it at me, yeah, before I muted everything in this room. A few other things about me bleeding out on the floor, blah blah blah, it's water under the bridge. I'm willing to let you loose if you're willing to listen."

Flynn nodded. Monica flashed a small smile and took hold of his wrist with one hand while undoing the clasps with her other. When it slackened, Flynn slid his hand through, and they repeated the process with his other wrist. "I take it this explanation's going to have something to do with how I heard Robin's thoughts," Flynn said, watching her work next on his ankles. "And how you knew what I was thinking."

"It will. It'll also involve how to guard your own thoughts because right now, you're broadcasting pretty much everything you're thinking to me. So please don't visualize Robin naked, or this might get awkward."

She looked up and winked. As Flynn furrowed his brow, he allowed the corner of his mouth to curl, not willing to grin yet, but seeing the attempt at levity for what it was. Monica finished with the last restraint, then motioned with both hands. "There, free," she said. "Though don't go anywhere for a moment. I want to check you over myself and see what's ticking in your brainpan."

Flynn sat upright, stretching out his long limbs, and nodded. As he sat on the edge of the bed, Monica walked up to him and though she looked him deep in his eyes, he saw her searching for something. "I need you to let me feel around there. Like I said last time, this works better if you don't fight me."

He took a deep breath and stilled himself, not remembering how he'd let her in before but trying to keep himself settled. She placed the image of Sabrina in his mind, and he recoiled against it, the action visceral and automatic. It made Monica retreat.

"Okay, you're not going insane anymore," she said with a chuckle. "Not like that, anyhow. I can poke around more later, I just wanted to make sure nothing waited to explode back there."

"I'll pretend I understand if that helps," Flynn said. Monica didn't acknowledge the comment. She turned her back on him, though, and that action piqued his interest. A human that brazen, who could walk away from him with the confidence that even if he tried to attack, she'd have him subdued before he could kill her. It both irritated and intrigued Flynn.

He looked at Robin. While Robin had steadied himself, Flynn still sensed being weighed like something had infected him. Abstract ideas floated around Robin, almost asking to be seen, but Flynn tried desperately not to read any of them. "We're not at the estate," Flynn said. "I don't know what's happening. I might have another day or two, but at some point, the Mistress is going to notice me gone."