Sleight

by Tom Twitchel

  I allowed the bus’s lurching and swaying to lull me into an eyes-wide-open nap. When it braked for my stop I roused myself, slung my backpack over my shoulder and got off.

  When I stepped over the threshold of Mr. Goodturn’s apartment it was three in the afternoon. Nine hours before the big whatever. I detoured through the kitchen to grab a soda and then headed to his room. The door was open and I walked in to find him dressed and sitting on the bed, propped up by a big pillow. He was writing in a journal, his glasses perched on the end of his nose.

  “Benjamin,” he greeted me, closing the journal and pushing his glasses back in place.

  “Hi,” I said. “Do you have time to talk?”

  Swinging his legs over the edge he slid his short frame off the bed and stood before me. His eyes, magnified by the thick lenses of his glasses, stared up at me. I could tell he was thinking about how our last talk had ended. I was too.

  “Of course, let’s have a chat in the library. I need to get out of this room,” he said, shuffling a little unsteadily on his short legs.

  Following him out into the hallway I said, “Where is everybody?”

  “Preston is in his room, resting. Breno is back in his own apartment and Brock is resting too I suppose.”

  We entered the library and I noticed that a fire had been lit in the massive fireplace. The windows, frosted over, hid the snowy sky outside.

  “How’s Brock doing?” I asked.

  He winced as he took a seat in the specially scaled chair that he favored over the normal sized furniture.

  “He has struggled with the after effects. Our mystery woman has a dangerous knack. He’s fortunate that it was a brief encounter.” He frowned.

  “Who was she? I thought they were trying to capture Sonja.”

  “As I told the detective that was their plan. But Sawyer’s information led them to the redheaded woman instead. Neither of them knew enough about Sonja’s appearance for them to realize that they had the wrong woman. Nevertheless, the woman they apprehended is clearly part of the Shade network. We know her name is Irena Weller. We are trying to determine who she knows.”

  “Is Kenwoode going to be alright? Constance said that every time he manifests it costs him.”

  Nodding thoughtfully he said, “Preston will definitely improve, but yes, he’ll have significant pain as a result of his use of his knack. Constance may be able use her medical skills to alleviate some of the pain, but not much.”

  “Where is Constance?” I asked.

  “Ah, she is speaking with your young friend, Miss Winters. I thought you knew.”

  “What?” I asked, confused and worried. The map and the meeting with the feisty girl bubbled to the surface of my thoughts. “When did she get here?”

  Mr. Goodturn stroked his cheek. “It was a good twenty minutes prior to your arrival.”

  She must have come straight over after school. It was undoubtedly a maneuver to make sure she was included in the midnight event in underground Seattle.

  “Where are they?” I asked.

  “In Constance’s room I expect,” he said. I could sense that he knew there were bigger issues I wanted to talk about.

  I sat down in a wingback chair close to him. We were far enough away from the fire that it wasn’t uncomfortably hot but I could feel the warmth in the air.

  “I’m sorry I stormed out of your room,” I said.

  “I understand. It was a lot of new information and it was my error in not discussing it with you earlier.”

  My palms were sweaty and I rubbed them on my jeans. “I need to ask you some questions and something happened today that I have to tell you about.”

  He just nodded, waiting for me to continue.

  “Mr. Kenwoode is a...he’s not always straight. He did things when he knew Constance that are pretty messed up. He hid his telepathic knack from me.” I hesitated. It was hard to basically call him an ass. He was Mr. Goodturn’s friend after all.

  “What is it you’re trying to say Benjamin?”

  “Why would you trust him? You know, to be the one to help you after the attack? He seems...“

  “Self-motivated?” he asked.

  “Well yeah. Constance said that he only cares about himself and whatever he’s working on.”

  “Ah, that brings a famous quote to mind. ‘Hell hath no fury’.” He shook his head. “Preston is a complicated man. I trust him with certain things. In other areas he would not be my first choice to ask for help. My health was only one of the reasons that I required his assistance, as you know. As to Constance, she is understandably bitter. I can’t fault her for feeling the way she does. But she has some culpability in that regard and doesn’t have a full grasp of the context.”

  Well that sounded like grownup doubletalk, and as an answer it didn’t satisfy me. I decided to try and pin down another loose end. “How did you know that I was going to be born with a strong knack? Or even one of Constance’s kids? You said knacks aren’t hereditary.”

  He wiggled in his chair. “Ah, yes. I see that you and Constance have spoken. I’m glad.”

  “Why weren’t you willing to tell me yourself? Don’t I mean something to you?” It came out harsher than I’d intended.

  “Of course you do, but so does she. It put me in a difficult spot. Both of you had a right to your privacy. Don’t you think?”

  Nodding I smiled, embarrassed. “Yeah, you’re right. But, about the babies and their children, how did you know we would have knacks?”

  “Her children are normal. You were the exception,” he said.

  “Is there any other family history you’re not sharing with me? I mean, you suspected I might be born with a knack. Where did that come from?”

  A rueful smile stretched his lips to one side. “No, all of the historical details of your family are out in the open now. And your likely possessing a knack, that was information that came from another source, another individual in our far flung community of knack practitioners.”

  I’m sure my mouth dropped open. “Someone you know has a knack that allows them to see the future?”

  “Not quite. Vague futures for specific people and not very precise,” he said.

  It was one more knack-powered gift that I hadn’t been aware of and I wondered how many more I was going to discover. He stared at me through his thick-lensed glasses, not offering any further explanation. It seemed like a good time to steer back to more immediate issues.

  I pulled the map from my pocket and handed it to him. “This girl came to me, I guess she must be a Shade, she’s one of the fliers from the other night. She snuck into my school and gave me that.”

  He glanced at the hand drawn map and cocked an eyebrow. I quickly filled him in on my meeting with the tattooed blond and what she had said.

  “What does it mean?” I asked.

  Sighing he rubbed a small hand over his forehead. “We’ll need to discuss this with Preston. This would seem to represent the location for a meeting of people in the Shade community.”

  “The Shades are uniting, that’s what Kenwoode said. At least here in Seattle. Maybe other states. He says it’s a problem, and that it was one of the reasons you reached out to him.”

  “Yes, it is a problem, but not a new one. There is an individual, a Master Shade if you will, who has begun drawing criminal knack practitioners together. The last time I encountered such an occurrence it was on the east coast and grew to be quite ugly. Preston’s obsession is borne out of a specific conflict that is from that time. It is one of the reasons I reached out to him specifically. Would you mind fetching Constance? I’ll see if Preston is up to meeting with us. We need to discuss this immediately.”

  We got up and headed down the hall toward Constance’s room, trying to control my frustration with Justine. I’d have to confront her plan to insert herself into the midnight meeting. Raising my hand to knock on the closed door I paused. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  Then I knocked. A littl
e too loudly.

  Constance opened the door, her hair down, looking more like my mother in the dress and shawl she had on. Her reaction to seeing me shifted quickly from a surprised smile to a frown of worry.

  “What is it? Has something happened?” she asked, as Justine walked up behind her.

  “Yeah, Mr. Goodturn wants us to meet in the library.”

  Justine slipped around Constance to greet me with a hug. I remained stiff and unyielding as she hugged me. She pulled away, confused. I took another breath. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to talk to Mr. Kenwoode, but he wasn’t feeling well, so Constance has been helping me, you know, with my thing.”

  I wasn’t buying into her explanation. “Mr. Goodturn wants to meet with...Kenwoode, Constance, Brock and me. Please wait here. I told you I wanted you to stay out of it.”

  “Would one of you tell me what this is about?” Constance asked.

  “You’re not going anywhere without me,” Justine said.

  “Really?” I asked. “Who says I’m going anywhere? Have you called your parents? Do they even know where you are?”

  Narrowing her eyes, she pointed a finger at my chest. I saw a lavender flash through her thick lashes. “They think I’m at Kayla’s, remember?”

  “Wait,” Constance said. “Is this something dangerous? Because if it is, I think it is the absolute last thing this young lady should be doing right now.” She looked pointedly at Justine.

  “See?” I said. “You need to stay here.”

  Justine pursed her lips and wouldn’t look at either of us. I turned to leave, motioning to Constance to follow me.

  “I’m not,” Justine snapped, grabbing my arm. “I’m coming!”

  “Alright you two please fill me in,” said Constance.

  “It’s Natural stuff,” I said. “It’s about something or someone that might be important. It could be the Shade thing.”

  “What’s that?” Justine asked.

  “Kenwoode says there’s a Shade, a knacked person who doesn’t follow the rules, who is trying to unite all of the sketchy Naturals. He says that they’ll try to wipe out all of the rest of us.”

  She snorted in disbelief. “You’re kidding right?”

  “No,” I said, hoping that I didn’t sound as pouty as I did to myself.

  “Don’t pout,” she said. “I believe you.”

  Constance brushed her hands at her dress. “Well let’s talk it over with Harald and Preston.”

  We all went to the library. Mr. Goodturn and Kenwoode were already there, standing at the desk looking at the map. Kenwoode looked human again, but haggard. His skin hung on him in loose folds.

  “What’s the plan?” I asked.

  Kenwoode cleared his throat. “Harald has brought me up to date on your meeting with Sawyer’s colleague.”

  Stepping around Kenwoode’s massive frame Mr. Goodturn looked up at me. “We have decided to act on this invitation. Preston and I think you should play a role.”

  “Advance reconnaissance,” said Kenwoode.

  “Really? Um, great. I’ll get ready to go,” I said.

  Mr. Goodturn bobbed his head. “Good. You’ll be travelling with an escort.”

  FIFTY-ONE: IF YOU ONLY KNEW

  THE FIRE WAS still burning and the room was comfortably warm. Mr. G had taken a seat in his favorite spot. I sat on a leather cushioned couch with fancy wooden legs and Justine had planted herself in a straight-backed chair, draping her coat over the back.

  She’d picked a spot as far from me as possible. So much for love. I could hear Maddy’s voice singing to me from a distance: ‘Boys are sooooo dumb!’ Somehow I didn’t find it helpful.

  Kenwoode remained standing. He didn’t seem to be in any pain and I wondered if Constance was connected to his sudden improvement. She sat nearest the fire, her eyes flicking form Justine to me and back. Probably picking up on the negative vibe between us.

  “We need to come to a plan of action quickly,” said Kenwoode. His voice sounded rough.

  “So who’s my escort?” I asked.

  “Our escort,” said Justine.

  “I am. And Brock,” Kenwoode said. He glanced at Mr. Goodturn, ignoring Justine. He was wearing the same black close fitting material he’d had on two days ago, but the bullet holes were gone. Did he have a whole closet filled with black tights?

  Mr. G nodded, his glasses alternately flashing reflected light and shadows with each bob.

  “How is this supposed to work? The girl said Sawyer was trying to get the map to you. We all march down there?” I asked.

  Shifting from one leg to the other Kenwoode grunted. “No. You’ll proceed alone—”

  “I’m going too!” snapped Justine.

  “—while Brock and I tail you,” continued Kenwoode, completely ignoring Justine again. “The goal is to find out exactly what is happening down there, although I have my suspicions. Since you’ve been willing to risk yourself as bait, we thought this might give us an advantage, provided that you’re not discovered.”

  “Discovered?”

  “Yes, Benjamin. We want you to use your ability to camouflage yourself to get close enough to spy on whatever this meeting might be,” said Mr. Goodturn.

  “Okay, sure,” I said.

  “It may be dangerous Benjamin. If you have any reluctance I will not judge you if you would rather not go,” Mr. Goodturn said, his hand stroking his cheek.

  “No. I want to,” I said. I was thinking about Sonja and the possibility of getting rid of her once and for all. “But I have a question. Who was the redhead?”

  Kenwoode growled. “Sawyer’s research was in error. The woman we captured was indeed a Shade, but it was she who was living in the condominium, not Sonja.”

  “Who was she then?” I asked.

  Mr. Goodturn cleared his throat and glanced at Kenwoode. “Irena Weller. She’s someone who is apparently the leader of a Shade cell. Sawyer’s computer sleuthing led us to the wrong person but it turned out to be an even more important discovery.”

  “That means that Sonja is still running around,” I said.

  “Likely,” said Kenwoode. “But that is secondary at this point. We think the two hunters you followed were indeed working for Sonja and that all of them were interfering with this Miss Weller. We believe the assassin you and Sawyer eliminated was probably hired by Weller to remove competitors from the field.”

  More military jargon, and one more piece of history to wonder about.

  “The map shows a route in Underground Seattle. How are you going to prevent yourself from being spotted?” I asked Kenwoode.

  “I’m experienced at not being seen when it suits me. Your main concern is to not get boxed in when you arrive at the destination marked on the map,” He said.

  “What do you think it means?” I asked.

  Mr. Goodturn leaned back in his chair and made a show of clearing his throat. “We think the event is a meeting for recruiting.”

  “Yes,” said Kenwoode. “It’s seems likely that your suspicion as to the identity of the blond girl is correct, and that she is part of a cell.”

  “You think Sawyer’s a Shade then?” I asked.

  Kenwoode gave his head a rapid shake. It looked like an animal shaking off flies. “Actually, no.”

  “No?” Justine and I said in unison.

  “We think Sawyer was under duress the other night. I personally vetted him. I don’t think he betrayed us willingly. His getting a map to you, for me actually, dovetails with our original plan to ferret out the Shade activity,” Kenwoode said.

  “So you think he’s being held against his will?”

  Kenwoode shook his head again. “Not likely. The girl couldn’t have gotten a map out if he had been incapacitated.” He glanced at Mr. Goodturn. “We believe that Sawyer has delivered the location to help us get a step closer to the Master Shade. Obviously he knows we would take precautions.”

  “If that’s true why didn’t the gir
l give me more detail?” I asked.

  Mr. Goodturn took off his glasses, wiped them on his shirt and put them back on. “We’re not sure, but based on your account, the young lady that approached you did so without any personal conviction that it was the right thing to do.”

  That didn’t make me feel very confident about my safety. “What am I supposed to do?”

  Kenwoode took a step closer to me. “Let’s discuss that.”

  Justine stood up. “I’m going too.”

  Turning his head to look at her, Kenwoode frowned. Justine took an involuntary step backward.

  “No, you are not,” he said. “Your lack of familiarity with your own differences, let alone the bigger picture, effectively dismisses you from being part of this exercise. We can’t risk you.” I marveled at his cluelessness.

  Justine put her hands on her hips. “If Benny can go why is it such a big deal?”

  “Miss Winters I think I understand your desire to accompany Benjamin;” said Mr. Goodturn. “But your presence would not only complicate things, it could potentially put Benjamin at risk. Is that something you want to do?”

  She hesitated. “No,” she said, a little petulantly. Her lower lip was pushed out and her eyes crackled with violet light.

  “Then it would be my recommendation that you sit this one out.”

  I thought he’d been doing an excellent job of diffusing the situation until he said that. Her shoulders stiffened and she arched her back. I was positive that we were about to be on the receiving end of a verbal barrage.

  Turns out I still didn’t understand girls.

  “Okay, fine. But I’m not happy about it,” she said, pulling on her jacket and shoving her hands deep into her pockets. It was difficult for me to sense her emotional currents. There was too much going on under that platinum colored hair for me to get a clean read. Mr. Goodturn stared at her for a moment then nodded.

  “Excellent. Brock is the only one we haven’t brought up to date. Constance, would you mind seeing if he is up and about? Benjamin, would you walk Miss Winters to her car?”