Whisper: A Young Adult Urban Fantasy Novel (Spectra Book 3)

by Lan Chan

  “Want anything else, hon?” At least she was smiling at me too, now.

  “No thanks.”

  As he ate, I chewed on my straw. It should have been awkward, but for some reason, I had an easier time being around him when he wasn’t talking. Maybe it was because whenever he opened his mouth, it was to say something to annoy me.

  Before I knew it, I’d let my mind wander. It brushed up against the natural shields of the people around us. I didn’t let the probe go anywhere it would be detected, or where it might pick up random thoughts I didn’t want to hear. I had enough problems with my own thoughts.

  The thing about aimless mental scanning was that it was like a trap door. Once you opened one, you just had to continue down the rabbit hole. I’d sent the probe out onto the street when it grazed a mental signature that sparked familiarity.

  I’d felt that mind before: In the dream where I’d electrocuted Marcello. How she’d jumped out of my dreams and into the real world was irrelevant. As quickly as it had come, the other mind was gone. It didn’t fade out gradually like telepathy that had moved out of range. Nor did she raise her shields, because I would have detected it. One moment she was there. The next she’d gone. Just as I’d given up scanning, she popped up again.

  Throwing more money on the table, I snatched my coat from the back of the chair. Ryan glanced up in surprise. “Gotta go.”

  What the hell? he said in my mind, but I shoved him out, not needing him distracting me while I was concentrating so hard. I ducked and weaved through the patrons in the café, no doubt looking like I was dining and dashing. The line was still blocking the door and I had to invade some personal space to get back out onto the street.

  This wasn’t my territory of expertise. I knew every nook and cranny of City Square like the back of my hand but avoided Kew Gardens as much as possible. There was too much bad blood between Aunt Claire and me. The block between the bus stop and Hikari’s Garden and Grocer was the extent of my familiarity.

  Unlike the old architectural buildings in the city, these streets lived up to their name. Ancient planes and oak trees lined both lanes of the sidewalk, adding structural uniformity to the space. It meant that every street looked the bloody same. If not for the one sweep Aunt Jenny had done earlier to find a parking spot, I would have had no idea where I was going.

  As it was, I was having difficulty maintaining the bare mind-link with the esper. Over the years, I’d never felt a mind this weak. It was as though she was an esper one second and the next she wasn’t. I could think of only one factor that might manifest these kinds of conditions and that was Second Sight.

  The constant blinking of the mind meant I kept losing track of it. I’d dash towards it when I felt the connection and then stalled when I arrived at the spot and lost the feed. Two blocks over, the cafés gave way to boutique stores selling flowers, clothes, and useless keepsakes. There was a gelateria on the corner with a line even longer than the café I’d come from. It wasn’t even a warm day. Couples and families walked hand-in-hand between stores. More than once, I barged right through them, apologised, and kept running.

  At the street corner, I paused and closed my eyes, letting my artificial telepathy loose on the surrounding area.

  It was a mistake. As soon as I let down my shields to remove the buffer, the whispers flooded into my mind. They blew at me from all directions and I lost the thought signature I was meant to be following. Turning in a circle, the voices distracted me so much I bumped into someone walking in the other direction.

  “Sorry.” The middle-aged guy frowned at me just as someone tugged me away from the middle of the footpath. Losing my balance, I tripped and landed with my shoulder pressed against a solid chest.

  “I’d ask what you’re doing but I have a feeling you’re not finished,” Ryan said. In my haste, I hadn’t even noticed that he’d followed me out of the café.

  “Can you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer and out of the way of another family coming out of the candy store behind us.

  “The voices.”

  It felt like déjà vu. In Ballarat, I’d asked him something similar.

  Without thinking, I tapped my temple. He appeared in my mind, as easily as if he’d been there all along. It was impossible to tell whether his sharp inhale was physical or mental but it confirmed my suspicions. Whatever I was hearing wasn’t something that other espers experienced. Yet again.

  I can’t separate them, he thought to me. It’s as if there are a thousand minds working as one entity. A hive mind. His pattern contained curiosity but also alarm. Voices of this magnitude represented one thing to an esper: Mental instability. Even the weakest espers had natural shields that protected them from the onslaught of unwelcome voices. That I was hearing so many, so frequently, was a sign of impending doom.

  I wasn’t sure about whether it was a hive mind as Ryan suggested. What I did know was that the other mind was back and she was moving closer. Ryan stepped into place just behind me, his thoughts now back in his own head. The deluge of voices wasn’t pleasant for me but I’d gotten used to them to some extent.

  The stop-and-start trail led me left at the end of the street and then through a small park in the middle of the shopping district. As I ran, I watched the crowds for a girl that fit my dream self’s physical description. If only I had some influence on my dream state, I could have willed her to take off the mask.

  Relying on telepathy as a street directory was a disaster mission. It pointed me in a straight direction towards the girl but didn’t take into account the obstacles in my way. Obstacles like people and brick walls. The latter we had to circle around or climb over. The former I slammed into as I turned the next right corner.

  My face collided with a sharp shoulder. If I’d done it as a greater velocity, and if I hadn’t been distracted by the voices, I would have broken my nose. “Watch where you’re going!” a snide voice called.

  My fists balled as I glanced up into the face drawn tight with annoyance. The sneer that crawled over Agent Flynn’s lips made me backstep into Ryan’s chest. He steadied me with a palm to the small of my back.

  “Agent –”

  Flynn held up a hand. A second later Collins stepped up beside him. Her cornflower-blue T-shirt dress clung to generous curves. The blonde wig wasn’t flattering. It washed her out and didn’t match the darkness of her eyebrows. Her smile didn’t falter as she slipped her hands around his arm and leaned into him. The gesture was affectionate in a way that was overly familiar. They weren’t in uniform and somehow I found that disturbing. Their undercover costuming might need a bit of Nina’s finesse but they were well trained.

  “What are you doing here?” Flynn said through a smile so fake I imagined it was a sticker I could peel off.

  “Visiting my dad’s grave,” I said through equally tense lips. Thanks to this interruption, I’d lost the link to the other mind altogether.

  “Your court order mandates that you be supervised.”

  “She is.” Ryan stepped up beside me.

  Collins tugged on Flynn’s arm and drew him down to whisper something in his ear. To an innocent bystander, it would look like she was nuzzling him. I wanted to gag.

  Ryan sent a fleeting query into my mind. Who are they?

  The bad men, I thought without considering the consequences. His already tight grip on my hip turned possessive.

  Let’s go.

  Just then Flynn’s hand reached out as though he was going to take my arm. Instead, Ryan slid in before him, knocking the older man’s hand aside. A mask of unflinching calm had settled over Ryan’s face. They were evenly matched in height but every muscle in Ryan’s body screamed contained violence. Zeke had told me once that Hades never lost his temper in the ring. It was part of his appeal and the reason for his moniker. The god of death and the underworld had ice in his veins.

  This version of him seemed to be royally pissed off. Flynn reco
iled, his fist balled in equal rage. Collins flashed us another smile as she led him away. Not before he’d lowered his shields and transmitted a single message that any esper within a few metres could have heard.

  You can’t hide behind that court order forever.

  I shrugged out of Ryan’s grasp, and though the agents’ backs were now to us, I knew Flynn felt the pressure of my probe. He’d raised his shield immediately after sending that message. There was no challenge to it. Just enough tactile force to let him know that I could, if I wanted to, reach him by force.

  Pray that you’re not around when my time is done, I thought. Not to anyone but myself. That court order is there to protect you, not me.

  Ryan’s hands came out to clasp on either side of my temples. Flynn’s departure had washed away any traces of his anger; in its place, his laughing eyes held infinite amusement.

  “Christ,” he said. “Will you please remember to shield your thoughts when there are stiffs around?”

  I swatted him away. “I am shielded.”

  Then how come I can do this?

  Dammit! He’d slipped past again. I had a barrier up against Flynn and Collins but my stupid brain kept leaving weak points for Ryan to find.

  “Threatening a federal agent is three years in prison,” he said. I folded my arms across my chest.

  “If I’m going down then you’re coming with me. You’re the one who touched him.”

  He didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest. “Why does he dislike you so much?”

  “Last time we were in the same room, I almost killed Oz with my telepathy. I think Flynn’s scared of me.”

  “Good.”

  If my mind wasn’t already preoccupied trying to reconnect with the runaway esper, I would have questioned his response. As it was, I couldn’t find my quarry and wanted to kick something. Preferably Flynn.

  Through the front window of the coffee shop, I noticed the time. “Shit. I have to go.”

  “No problems. Just wave your hands at the streets lights and make them all go green.”

  Was he joking? I didn’t think so. The very last thing I needed was encouragement to misbehave.

  “What happened to the convertible?” I asked when he stopped us in front of a black sedan with what had to be an illegal shade of tint on its windows.

  “Apparently sports cars aren’t embassy approved.”

  Turned out I didn’t need to give us an advantage because he drove like a psychopath. Not dangerous but way too aggressive. “Where’s the fire?”

  “You said you were late.”

  “Better late than dead.”

  “Come on, darling. I know you’re watching us and you’re too good to let us crash.”

  He was such a smug bastard.

  We passed by a high school and that was when I had a bright idea. “Could we swing by Fairfield to pick up Zeke?”

  It wasn’t that far out of our way, but we still arrived after the game had well and truly finished. The court was cleared and I had to access the link to find Zeke. He responded in a slight panic.

  I’m fine, I sent him while pointing Ryan in the direction of the bus stop. Black sedan rolling up to the curb now. Get in.

  What’s going on? We pulled up passenger side to the pavement, and though he’d asked the question, it didn’t stop Zeke from opening the door and sliding inside. Absolute trust. It was a nice thing to have. He went mute when he spotted Ryan in the driver’s seat.

  Zeke’s mental projections were so erratic I had to block him for a moment while he had a tiny hysterical fit. Those threats that he’d mentioned the other night came pouring through the mental link. He would need to recite so many Hail Marys after confession this month.

  Now or never, Ezekiel.

  His incredulity made the mental link shake. You could have given me a heads up.

  You wouldn’t have agreed otherwise. He’s just a person! And you’ve met him already, remember? More than once.

  The fact that he’d had no idea who Ryan was shouldn’t have mattered. They’d met and even grunted at each other a couple of times. It was interesting that when Ryan was just a random guy, Zeke barely noticed him. Yet when he found out who Ryan’s alter ego was, I suddenly better not ruin his hero’s concentration.

  Zeke’s knees dug into the back of my seat. “How do you adjust this thing?” I asked.

  “There’s a button on your left,” Ryan said. “Under the padding.” I couldn’t find it and elected to move it mentally.

  “I don’t like technology.”

  He gave me a withering glare and then his eyes flicked to the back seat. “You look like a man who won a game today.”

  I felt Zeke swallowing as though I were doing it myself. His grip on the link was such that our thoughts were blending. I began to have second thoughts about what I’d done. Reaching back with my left hand so Ryan wouldn’t see, I squeezed it through the gap between the seat and the door. After a second, I felt the pressure of Zeke’s palm against mine. His skin was clammy but warm.

  I can get Ryan to just drop us here. Right now, here was in the middle of a busy intersection, but he understood what I meant. Zeke let go both mentally and physically and I bit my lip to keep from smiling. Relief flooded through me. He wasn’t thrilled that he was unprepared but cutting the meeting short wasn’t an option.

  “Twenty-two to sixteen,” Zeke finally said. His voice cracked a bit at the start but the rest came out clear. Self-assured. Ryan nodded, not making mention of how long it took for Zeke to respond. My affection for both of them went up a notch.

  “Do you use powers?” Ryan asked.

  “Sometimes.” I could hear him re-positioning himself against the leather. “Depends on who plays. If Willow’s playing everyone gets to use powers but her.”

  Ryan laughed. “That’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?”

  “You should see her foul someone.”

  I whirled in my chair and glared at him. “He started it.” Our friend Justin had used his telekinesis to push my swish out of the net. To retaliate, I’d jammed my elbow into his gut. He’d vomited on the court and we had to end the game. One of the reasons I’d been reluctant to play was because I knew I was a nightmare competitor.

  Zeke put his hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me, I’m not the ref.” Then he turned to Ryan. “You should come along sometime. We’re usually down a couple.”

  Ryan smiled. “I’m not much for team sports either.” The words hung in the air, a direct reminder of what his other persona was. “But let me know when it’s happening and I’ll see what I can do.”

  If Zeke were gay, this would be the moment when he fell head over heels. He kept squirming in his seat. “I think I’m sitting on something. Oh, it’s a shirt.”

  “That’s actually for you,” Ryan said. He nodded his head towards me. Zeke passed it up. There was already a frown on my face before I unfurled the whole T-shirt and saw the slogan in big block lettering. It said: “I’d Go To Hell For Hades.”

  “First of all, it’s a size too small. Second of all, there is no way on the planet I’m going to wear that.”

  “Aww, come on, darling. I had to wrestle a forty-year-old woman at the merchandise stand for it. Last one.”

  “No. Way. I wouldn’t be caught dead in it.”

  Sensing my very real agitation, Zeke snagged the shirt off my lap. “I’ll take it. Lily will probably fit into it perfectly.

  “She is not going to wear that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s cheap and misogynistic.”

  “Hey!” Ryan laughed. “I’ll have you know it’s top-quality cotton.” My sideways glare only made him laugh harder. Lucky for him we were pulling up to Hyper’s driveway. He put the car into neutral and we unbuckled our seat belts.

  “You wanna come inside?” Zeke asked. Ryan shook his head and his eyes flicked to the administration office. “Okay, see ya.”

  Zeke got out and started walking towards the gates. I h
ad one leg out before Ryan tugged at my arm. When I turned around, he placed a rectangular box with an envelope in my hand.

  “You know it’s a six-year jail term for misleading a federal agent in an investigation,” he said. I turned the box over and it rattled. New China now exported a lot of gourmet products to other countries. One of its chief exports was luxury chocolate.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, tucking the box under my arm. “As far as I’m concerned, I answered all their questions to the best of my abilities.”

  He looked at me then, blue eyes intent and stripped of any of his bravado. Creeping warmth stole up my collar and my eyes lowered to the first words of the tattoo on his upper chest.

  “Willow.” My attention drew upwards again. “Thanks.”

  Inside the mansion, I made the mistake of opening the envelope in front of Zeke. Inside was a folded-up piece of lined note paper. Zeke took one look at the drawing and almost wet himself laughing.

  Adam and Bianca were home so of course they wanted to see too. “It’s…” Adam trailed off without being able to think of something complimentary.

  Abigail had drawn me a picture. She’d signed her name in messy scrawl over the bottom right of the page. Her handwriting was the neatest part of the picture. There were three stick figures just above her name. They were drawn in black crayon and held what were supposed to be guns but resembled flaccid penises. An arrow pointed to the stick figure with the words: Bad men.

  But it was the person on the left of the page that had me dismayed. And the description above it. She’d drawn what I assumed was meant to be me in a peach colour. I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be me naked or if that was just a colour she liked. My hair was a repeated squiggle of dark brown that sprouted from my head in all directions. She’d given me coal-black eyes and razor-sharp teeth in a huge mouth. On top of me, she’d written: Bad girl. Behind me was literally a circle with a blonde tuft coming out of it and an arrow next to the letter A.

  Zeke was still laughing at dinner, but when I showed it to Lily, she only quirked her head to the side. “I don’t see what’s so funny,” she said. “In her mind, you’re equal to if not scarier than the bad men. And you’re the one protecting her.”