The Telepath (The Viral Superhero Series Book 2)

  THE TELEPATH

  BRYAN COHEN

  CASEY LANE

  Contents

  Introduction

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Epilogue

  Co-Authors’ Note

  Excerpt: The Candidate

  The story of every Chosen One begins with a choice…

  And Ted Finley wasn't always the top pick for the job…

  Discover the story BEFORE the story.

  Click here and register on the next page to get the free prequel to The Viral Superhero Series.

  PROLOGUE

  A man wearing sunglasses and a bulky coat that hid his build walked through the abandoned parking lot at Page's Diner attempting to sense any power Ted Finley may have left behind. He was a stranger to Treasure, though he'd forced himself to become more integrated after he saw the news reports of Ted's heroic exploits. Most of the glass had been cleared from the lot after the neighborhood chipped in to cut down on cleanup costs for the diner's owner, Debra Page. A few shards glistened in the bushes as the man looked up at the broken building. His mind turned to his childhood home, which had been similarly ravaged the last time he'd seen it. The pit in his stomach ached as he opened the half-cracked front door. A hint of power was left in the room, as a fire might leave a burnt carbon aroma.

  "It's not here anymore. But it was."

  Aside from the broken windows, the diner looked like it could have been ready to open the next morning. The stranger understood why when the realtor walked in.

  "Hello?" The woman sported a big smile, as if she could sense a hefty commission. "I saw you walk in. Are you interested in hearing about the building?"

  The man rested his hands against the wall and felt something seep into his body. For him, it was like the odor of a cigarette to a former smoker a few months after quitting. His mouth watered.

  "I'm very interested," he said. "What happened here?"

  The woman's face brightened as she went into salesman mode.

  "Local hero – no, national hero – Ted Finley saved over a dozen patrons from a gang of thugs here not three months ago. If it weren't for him, this would be a spot of tragedy, but he made it a triumph."

  "It looks a little tragic." He kicked a piece of glass from under one of the booths toward the wall. It ricocheted against a blue piece of tile, making a pinging sound before it caromed to the woman's feet. "I'd heard something about classic literature on the walls. Are those books still here?"

  The woman carefully picked up the glass and placed it in a wastebasket. "The former owner actually donated those books to the local library. They were put into a special collection."

  As he walked over to the woman, she straightened her spine. The corners of his mouth turned upward.

  "Thank you." The man laid a hand on her shoulder. "I was never here – and you can't see me now."

  The realtor flinched and put her hand up to her forehead. A few seconds later, she recovered and began tidying the diner up for her first appointment of the day. When she looked in the stranger's direction, her eyes moved through him as if he were transparent. The stranger placed his hand against the wall once again as he walked toward the exit.

  Like many buildings on the upscale side of town, the Treasure Library was new. The fresh smell of air conditioners and Lysol covered up any evidence that there were books inside. The stranger would have taken the musty odor of old paper any day.

  It only took a few minutes for him to find the right librarian.

  "How may I help you, sir?" The woman didn't look up from her computer.

  "I'd like to see the special stacks."

  "Do you have a library card?"

  When the stranger said he didn't and wasn't a town resident, the librarian pointed to a placard displaying the policy for viewing the special stacks. He could accompany a town resident with a library card, but the man had no desire to bring anybody else into this situation. At least, not yet.

  "Would you mind letting a fellow book-lover see a few first-edition classics? I've been tracking these down for weeks."

  His explanation was a half-truth. Seeing the original print of Moby Dick mattered less to him than what might lie between the lines. The librarian's monotone seemed pulled straight from a computerized voicemail system.

  "We appreciate your commitment to the arts, but a policy is a policy."

  The stranger rubbed the back of his head. "It was worth a shot to do it the old-fashioned way. I figured a little charm never hurt."

  "What do you mean the old-fashioned way?"

  The stranger reached toward the librarian and spoke as if he were chanting. "Take me to the special stacks. Nonchalantly, if you please."

  The librarian closed her eyes for a second before standing up and grabbing the key beside her. "Right this way."

  She was no perkier than before.

  They passed through several doors on the way to the stacks. While many of the rooms were visible through glass walls, the hand-carved door to the stacks was opaque and heavy. The librarian opened the door and led the man in before locking them inside.

  The smell of crumbling paper and stitched covers sat in the room like a cloud. He felt like he'd left a world made of plastic to enter a truer reality.

  Beyond his five senses, he felt a powerful force drawing him closer. If Page's was the smoke, this room was a blazing fire.

  He tried to sense the source with his eyes. "I need to see the books from Page's."

  With every step the librarian took, the man felt a stronger pulse of energy. She laid a few books on top of a table, and the stranger swore he could hear a faint hum emanating from them. One in particular began to call to him without words, and he touched it.

  A flash of blue electricity shot through the room, the lights dimmed and the stranger flew backwards into the wall. The man squinted to cope with the pain and pulled himself back up. He rubbed the spot on his shoulder where he'd made an impact.

  "I think it's fair to say that wasn't the right one."

  The librarian remained stoic beside the table as the man chuckled to himself.

  "Thanks for your concern."

  This time, he concentrated more carefully on the book he should choose. When it became clear that a first edition of the book Of Mice and Men was the right fit, he opened it to the first page and put his finger on the text. His body vibrated with the first wave
of energy.

  The man flipped through the first few pages of the book and felt his mental powers increase with every passing second.

  "While you play, it's time for me to get to work."

  1

  Erica LaPlante sipped her coffee as she watched the living soul, Ted Finley, attempt to arrange a series of objects five feet off the ground in the form of a word. She gave him the option of using anything in the lair, as long as none of the items he chose were the same weight as one another. Ted had finished the E and the R of her name when she started to take in their surroundings.

  She didn't believe Dhiraj at first when he said he'd cobbled together the funds for a secret hideout. A small staircase beneath a closed-down bakery led to a massive space that must have connected the basements of almost every storefront on the entire underdeveloped block. The subcontractors had outfitted the formerly abandoned space with the latest technology: 50-inch touchscreen monitors, holographic simulators and even a state-of-the-art fitness center.

  A five-pound weight from the letter I tumbled to the ground, and Erica noticed the rest of the word start to falter.

  "Concentrate." Erica took another drink, the warm beverage tickling her throat on the way down. "Just because one thing falls, doesn't mean the other ones have to."

  Ted sneered at Erica before turning his attention back to the word. His gym shirt was covered in sweat, the result of a two-mile jog at 4 a.m. followed by hand-to-hand combat training. Erica liked to do the mental work last, because a living soul needed to be prepared for the most difficult of circumstances. She'd seen multiple living souls fall prey to a failed effort to use their powers when they were exhausted. She'd also seen one die because of his inability to balance physical and mental energy.

  She didn't enjoy thinking back on that moment. After all, she was the one who'd had to kill him.

  "That looks good."

  Erica was startled to hear Ted speak. He'd been completely silent for the previous few minutes as he arranged the letters.

  "It is." She took an exaggerated sip and licked her lips.

  Every time she got too focused on training him, Ted would do or say something that reminded her they were dating.

  Ted's face turned up into a grin. "I think I know a good place for that."

  Erica felt the half-full cup of coffee zip out of her hands. "Hey!"

  The beverage stayed completely upright and undisturbed as it moved across the room and formed the last part of the word.

  "I think you mean 'A.'" Ted beamed at his joke and his three-dimensional word.

  Erica already felt the absence of the warm cup against her hands. "There were less delicious objects you could have picked."

  Ted raised his chin in air. "I just wanted to make sure you were paying attention."

  She wanted to be angry, but her name was spelled out so expertly that she let pride bubble to the top instead.

  Erica put her hands together. "Good work. It really is something."

  When Ted looked up at the word to admire it, Erica struck. She dashed in with lightning speed and tried to catch him in the back with a jump kick. He turned to block the blow with his elbow, though the objects from the E and the R toppled to the ground. She swung at him with a left and a right punch, but he feinted both before pushing Erica's chest to knock her backward.

  He crouched down into a fighting stance. "So that's how it is." Ted looked down at the fallen objects.

  "You dropped your E." She mimicked his stance.

  "Maybe I did it on purpose." With that, Ted put out his right hand and started shooting the items in Erica's direction.

  She kicked a trashcan to the side and let several crumpled pieces of paper and pencils zip past her. "Gotta aim better than that."

  When a medicine ball came right for her midsection, Erica caught it in one hand, spun around and threw it right back toward Ted. The ball shot at him with such speed, he didn't have time to react before it knocked into his thighs and sent him face-first to the ground. The dumbbell from the I made a clanging sound as it hit the ground; the C and the A were the only letters that remained hovering.

  Ted coughed. "Good toss. Almost de-manned me." He rolled onto his back, did a kick flip onto his feet and turned back toward his protector. "Now it's time for a little offense."

  Ted came running at Erica. She sighed as she easily sidestepped his attack, got underneath his arm and used his momentum to flip him onto his back. As the thud echoed throughout the room, Erica watched the items from the C and the A start to waver and fall. She made a mad dash for the A and flipped through the air, catching her coffee before it reached the ground and landing on her feet.

  She took a sip and shook her head. "Here's a tip: when you're tired and floating something, stay on the defensive."

  Erica offered Ted a hand and easily pulled him back up to a standing position.

  He dusted off his shirt. "Good to know."

  After Ted took a quick shower in the lair's full-service bathroom, they packed up Erica's car in the back alley. Ted looked at his watch and back at Erica multiple times.

  "Yes?" Erica finished loading the car and shut the door.

  "I noticed that its 6:30."

  "Mmmhmm."

  Ted put his hands on his hips. "So that means we're getting out early."

  Erica nodded. "Mmmhmm."

  Ted rolled his eyes and took Erica around the waist. "You're driving me crazy! I wanted to see if we could do less training and get up later."

  Erica brushed away a strand of hair that was getting in the way of his eyes. "No. I just have somewhere to go before school."

  She started to turn toward the car, but Ted pulled her back toward himself.

  "You said you haven't felt any dark souls cross over since Sandra, right?"

  Erica could tell where Ted was going with this. She slumped against the car. "Correct."

  "And there's been no evidence of any otherworldly activity."

  Erica nodded.

  Ted inched himself closer to Erica. "Then maybe." A few inches closer. "Maybe." Even closer. "We could scale things back a little bit."

  Erica gave Ted a quick peck on the lips. "Not gonna happen." She pulled herself away from Ted and walked around to the driver's side.

  "But–"

  "Sorry, Ted. No buts. You've got to be ready for anything at all times." Erica got inside and started the car.

  Ted walked around to her side, and she rolled down the window to accommodate.

  "Will you at least consider going to three days a week?" Ted sported a pair of puppy dog eyes that had more of an effect on Erica than she'd wanted. Unfortunately for Ted, it wasn't enough.

  "Goodbye, Ted."

  Ted squinted at Erica. "Wait, we're not going to school?"

  Her lips twitched. "We are going to school. But I've got somewhere to go first. Alone."

  "But what am I going to do?"

  "You're a superhero. Take your wings and fly away."

  Erica took the car out of park and left Ted standing in the alley. She wasn't quite sure what he'd said as she drove away, but she swore she heard the words, "But I'm tired!"

  The musty air of the cave was thicker than usual that morning. Even though it had been three months, Erica couldn't help but picture the battle pitting Ted and herself against the dark souls. Erica looked up at the walls, which were still covered in ancient writing. Nigel and his gang had foolishly told her that the dark souls were using the wall to communicate between the Realm of Souls and Earth. It had taken a little bit of work, but Erica was able to reconfigure the communication device to send a secure message to Gan and Reena, the commanders of the light soul army. Erica traced the stone wall with her fingers and found her way back to the latest conversation they'd been having. The chat reminded her of a long-distance chess match, with each side taking a week to reply to the other. She typically went on weekend mornings to hide her communications from Ted, but she felt particularly anxious this week to see how her superi
ors would respond. She looked up at the last few inter-dimensional messages.

  "He's stronger than I thought. The training is going well and I'm pleased with his progress."

  "You said the same about Adam. Should we be worried?"

  "Ted isn't like that. He doesn't crave power. He's of great service to this mission."

  The latest response from Gan and Reena was written right next to the room's entrance. "Does he suspect that there are other powers he can tap into? Is he aware of them?"

  Erica gripped the rock and thought up her response. As she conjured words in her mind, the words transposed themselves in the ancient script on the wall.

  "He's only been able to use the one power. He doesn't suspect a thing. Our secret is safe."

  2

  Ted traced the length of Erica's hair with his eyes. He didn't care that she'd made him fly to school when he was dead-tired. Ted tended to get over any of Erica's so-called transgressions the next moment he saw her.

  She was focused straight ahead on Mr. Redican, their long-term English substitute, who was discussing one of Shakespeare's Henry plays. Ted couldn't have told you which one as he contemplated the beauty of Erica's wide, deep eyes.

  "Hal was the son of King Henry IV, so he could have had any friends he wanted in the entire kingdom." Mr. Redican took a few paces before stopping just ahead of the front row of desks. "Why on Earth would he hang out with Falstaff?"

  Travis, a confident jock, piped up from the back of the room.

  "Because he was his dealer?"

  Even Erica laughed at that one. Ted got her attention with an exaggerated frown. As Travis high-fived the person at the desk next to him, Erica shrugged her shoulders and mouthed the words, "What? It was funny."

  Travis had been friends with the Torello twins before they died, turned evil and were killed again by Ted. While most of the town was on the hero's side in the conflict, Travis was firmly part of the opposition. Travis was part of the popular crowd now, but Ted remembered a time when he would stand next to him at science fair competitions.

  Mr. Redican cleared his throat, and most of the students turned their attention back to the front.

  Redican was younger than most of the other teachers, which made Ted feel like he could relate to him more. As a sub, he'd gotten stuck with one of the oldest rooms in their school. The tiles on the floor needed to be replaced. Unlike most of the rooms, it still had a dark, green blackboard instead of a whiteboard. A square of the ceiling right above the instructor was missing, which allowed Ted to see a copper pipe and a thick, black cord.