Rage of Vendetta (The Vendetta Series #2)

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Awareness begins to dawn in everyone's eyes. The mere mention is enough to blow away some fog, but there must be some serious telepathy induced in us all. The image of Jesse keeps flickering in my head, and if I don't try hard enough, I begin to forget what I am thinking about. I try to reach out to him telepathically, but it's hopeless when I can barely remember his voice.

"Okay, think," I command. "When was the last time we saw Jesse?"

Sasha pulls at her head, forcing herself to concentrate. "I've no idea. I know that we know a Jesse, but I can't remember who he is."

"Dark hair, alien eyes, extremely annoying?" I remind her, as well as trying to get the image to stabilize in my head. "Likes kicking puppies for fun and intruding on peoples' individual thoughts?"

She looks at me, and my stomach drops to see that it doesn't seem to be ringing a bell.

"Eric?" I ask, desperate. "You remember, right?"

"Of course I remember we have a friend named Jesse," he says, thinning his lips. "But all I get in my head trying to recall memories is a big fuzz."

I massage my temple. This is not good. I guess I can break through this block easier being a telepath too, but if they can't, this is going to be a serious problem.

Did Jesse put this block on his own? Or did Alex Narasov follow us onto that flight and do this? Maybe Aunt Nelly found another telepathic.

I pull at my hair, frustrated. The possibilities are endless. I swear Jesse got off the plane with us. He can't have gone far, can he?

"We've got to find him," I insist. "Regardless if he walked off on his own or was kidnapped. Regardless if you guys can even remember what he looked like, we've got to find him."

"Wait, wait, wait," Vee says. "How do we know if we do find him? I don't know what he looks like."

I resist from screaming. "Good point. Uhm, Sasha, how good are you at drawing portraits?"

She shrugs. "Mediocre."

"Grab that pencil," I say, pointing to the short nub someone must have lost on the floor.

I shut my eyes, begging the image to crystallize. I get hints of dark blue, and brushes of plump pink. Angles and planes and cheekbones.

"Alright," I say. "Start with a heart-shaped face..."

Ten minutes later, we have a messy sketch of what I think Jesse looks like. Sasha did the best she could with a blunt pencil, but there's only so much you can portray with just gray colors.

"We have all night--or morning, whatever--until the flight to New York," Eric says, studying the grayscale face. "I'm sure we can find one guy, right?"

"I certainly hope so," I mutter. I clear my throat, say louder, "Meet back here at dawn. Don't go beyond security check-in. He can't have left out there."

Courtney and Vee head off together, murmuring something about wanting food.

"You guys go on ahead," I tell Sasha and Eric. "Pass me the laptop."

"You're going to search alone?" Sasha asks. She hands it over.

"Three groups are better than two," I say, distracted while logging in. "But I have something to do first."

As they leave, I try to calm my inner panic. My lungs are one shallow breath away from hyperventilating. What if we can't find him? Do we just leave? We're going to have to. We can't sacrifice everything. What if in another few minutes, the telepath doing this reinforces their block and we forget about Jesse completely?