Free Winters Family Psi Chronicles 2: Project Onyx by John O'Riley Page A

ponytail and intense green eyes. Jason Mackenzie was seated in a rocking chair at the corner of the room near the bed. His troubled gaze flicked from the man to the woman until he noticed his grandson had awakened.
    “Brian,” he said.
    “I’m glad you’re awake,” the male stranger said as he and his companion turned to face him and approached the bed. “I’m Agent Hurst with the FBI and this is Agent Driscol.”
    Brian slowly sat up in bed and realized his condition had considerably improved. Everyone’s emotional energy no longer bombarded him, a lot of his strength had returned, and his pain had reduced to a mild headache.
    “How are you feeling?” Jason asked.
    “A lot better,” Brian said as he swung his legs over the side of the bed so he could sit more comfortably. He was still wearing the same clothes and had been lying on top of the bedspread. “How long was I out?”
    “About six hours,” Hurst replied. “We took a team of local police to the place where you were kidnapped. Russell guided us there. Unfortunately, the kidnappers had cleared out.”
    “One of their team members is a psychometrist and obliterated any useful information that I could have picked up. We were wondering what you may have learned about them,” Driscol said.
    “Do Mom and Dad know I’m okay?” Brian asked.
    “Yes, we alerted them that you’re safe as soon as we found you and Russell here,” Hurst said.
    Brian grimaced with displeasure at the spike of energy that the FBI agent unintentionally transmitted which indicated deception.
    “You’re lying,” he said bluntly.
    Hurst’s brown eyes registered surprise for a fraction of a second but he quickly composed himself.
    “Your parents know you’re okay,” he said.
    “That’s true,” Brian said slowly as his gaze shifted over to settle on his grandfather who gazed reprovingly at the agents. “But you only just now told them.”
    “How did you know that?” Driscol asked sharply.
    “Whenever anyone tells a lie, they give off an uncomfortable energy that I can’t help but pick up on,” Brian explained. “Virtually all level ten empaths share that ability.”
    “Of course.” Driscol nodded and smiled with satisfaction. “You’re a living, breathing lie detector. That’s a very valuable asset to the FBI or the police force. You should consider those fields.”
    “I’ve already made up my mind that I’m going to be a psychologist,” Brian said.
    “That’s a worthy profession. Please, tell us anything you know about the kidnappers,” Driscol said smoothly.
    Her words rang false to Brian and he quickly realized it was because she didn’t value the work of psychologists. Tangible results brought on by investigation and interpretation of clues mattered to her the most. Brian brushed aside his irritation over the white lie and relayed all the information he’d amassed on the four researchers which wasn’t very much. Apparently, it was a lot more than they’d picked up before and more than Russell had given them because they listened with rapt attention as Driscol recorded his dialogue with her DPU. Driscol’s DPU was a new model, with a sleek silver frame, and a blue touch screen that printed everything that was spoken as it recorded in both text format and digital sound. When Brian finished, Hurst asked more clarification questions then straightened to his full height, unconsciously indicating the debriefing was almost finished.
    “Thank you for your information. I also want to caution you that if you develop any new abilities, you must report them to the security administration immediately,” Hurst said.
    “I will,” Brian said. He abruptly realized he may not get another chance to dig for information from the FBI. “It’s interesting that Samantha was so interested in the recurring nightmares that run in my family and the psychic burnout.”
    “She was gathering information so she could help further her research on the causes of specific