Sleight

by Tom Twitchel

As he leaned away from me, my senses flowed back to my immediate predicament, and my keen desire for self-preservation kicked back in. I let go of the knife covered with my friend’s blood, and let my knack spin and drive it into his unprotected chest. His eyes popped open and he looked down at me. Hi sface registered shock as he fell backward.

  “Charmed,” I wheezed, as I rolled onto my side and reached out a hand to Oso. His chest was rising and falling, but there was a lot of blood coming out of his wound.

  His hand gripped mine, as a series of bubbling coughs wracked his body. Then I had the presence of mind to look behind me, searching for the source of the miniature light show that had saved my life.

  A figure dressed in black was creeping up to us, carrying some kind of weapon in its left hand.

  “Are you alright?” asked a velvety feminine voice.

  I looked up and even though a street light behind her made it difficult to make out her features I knew who my savior was, and that her weapon was a camera.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” I said. “You look better without fangs.”

  EIGHTY-SEVEN: AFTER THE FALL

  HER NAME, HER real one, was Annika Sanders. As she worked on Oso, putting a makeshift pressure bandage together from pieces of his ripped shirt, she told me how she’d managed to show up at the almost perfect moment. Almost, because if it had been prefect, she wouldn’t have needed to patch up Oso.

  She was an investigative reporter for The Seattle Times and the flash attachment for her digital camera had been the last thread in a lucky rescue. She’d been following up on Crush’s weird connections for months. Her first break had been wangling an invite to an underground cult initiation from an intern at a clinic located in Tacoma. She’d dressed as a vampire.

  When that venture had failed, she’d decided to start tailing Crush personally, first at the Freemason’s meeting, and then to the construction site for the new Ballard clinic.

  Her spontaneous decision to shoot a series of photos of Crush preparing to kill me, and blind him with the flash, had been solely motivated by her noble desire to save me. It had nothing to do with the Pulitzer prize-winning potential of photographing an elected official in the act of committing murder. That’s what she said. I decided to believe her. It made me like her more than the alternative.

  She finished wrapping a tight bandage around Oso’s chest, and pulled out her phone. She punched a couple of numbers. Actually three.

  My cue.

  “Look I’m sorry,” I said.

  Her brow furrowed. “Sorry? Why? This isn’t your fault.”

  I looked over at Oso and fought down the fresh wave of guilt that was threatening to drown me.

  “Take care of my friend,” I said, and then I invoked my camo.

  If it had been under different circumstances I would have found her terrified reaction funny. She was still looking for me when I snuck out of the lot through the open gate.

  I couldn’t get over the sequence of events that had allowed me to escape with my life. Oso had been with Crush’s security for two days and had used his mind reading ability to do a deep dive into Brady’s and Nikko’s mental makeup. Brady had no loyalty to Crush. Niko was the wildcard and I was supposed to take him out if necessary. With Crush at risk they had both stayed true to their loyalties: Niko’s for his boss and Brady’s for his own skin.

  All Oso had needed was the right time and opportunity. The chance to make some of his own luck. My presence had created a scenario where all three guards would be alone with Crush. Oso hadn’t bothered to let me in on the fact that he’d been carrying a knife, or what he intended to do with it.

  Now I’d crossed over another line I’d been dancing around for months.

  EIGHTY-EIGHT: CHANGES

  FIVE DAYS LATER I was sitting on my couch while Danton sat in my recliner trying to stop himself from looking for a smoke that wasn’t there. He was trying to quit. A string of white lights that I’d strung along the windows cast a warm glow around the frosted glass. My cheap foray into Christmas cheer.

  Mr. Goodturn was sitting next to me on the couch, his hands in his lap, looking concerned.

  I’d missed the dinner at Maddy’s, and her parents had been miffed. I’d had a little difficulty absorbing that with the other worries on my mind, and it wasn’t like I could tell them why I’d failed to show up. We had rescheduled and I was due over there later.

  Mr. Goodturn and I had spent a long evening talking after I’d made it back home. We had compared notes and filled in the blanks. He had elaborated on Crush’s background and it had blown me away.

  According to Mr. Goodturn, Crush had been born Albrecht Krause on the east coast back in the late 1800’s. Discovering his knacks as a young man he had become obsessed with finding others who were gifted. Battling superstition and fear he finally met a woman who possessed the rare combination of the healing and siphoning knacks. He’d used her to maintain his health. With years to carry out his plans he’d created a massive network of criminal interests.

  It was Crush who had retained Kenwoode to neutralize the Mad Dwarf, which actually had been Mr. Goodturn’s alter ego, and to put a stop to his interfering with Crush’s illegal businesses. The Mad Dwarf had poached Kenwoode, and used him to dismantle Crush’s empire. Kenwoode also successfully located the woman who had been rejuvenating Crush for decades. Her disappearance had been a huge blow to Crush.

  The irony of Kenwoode becoming a warped image of what he had helped to destroy wasn’t lost on me.

  Although successful at ruining Crush’s network, Mr. Goodturn’s identity had been compromised. The Mad Dwarf disappeared and became a legend in the Natural and Shade communities. Many theories arose as to who he really was. With the Mad Dwarf gone, Crush focused on Kenwoode.

  Unwilling to run, and knowing that Crush was plotting to avenge his losses, Kenwoode had made careful plans to guard himself and those close to him, particularly his fiancée. He fabricated an affair with another woman, and while his philandering only existed on paper and in gossip, it served its purpose. His fiancée had left him and eventually fell in love and married another man. Kenwoode had spared her life, but it had cost him. Constance never forgave him, and he could never tell her the truth for fear that Crush might someday exact revenge through her.

  Crush continued looking for the Mad Dwarf and whether by coincidence or intelligence he had relocated to Seattle. He’d begun to build a network of knacked criminals. Mr. Goodturn stumbled upon it when he noticed a pattern in the victims that Sonja was taking. When Kenwoode had come to town to aid Mr. Goodturn he immediately took up the search for the ringleader, without knowing that his old nemesis was the master Shade.

  Annika’s story had ruined Crush and his legacy in Seattle. Oddly, his attempt to kill me hadn’t been made public. One of his entourage, a Miguel Rivera, was named as the party responsible for stabbing him. Self-defense they said. Miss Sanders had apparently done some creative storytelling. Oso had dropped off the grid. Danton figured he had been squirreled away by the police to make him available for future testimony. It had to be somewhere he could have received serious medical attention based upon how much blood he’d lost.

  Miss Black’s legal ownership of the clinics, their unlicensed practices, and ties to Crush, had resulted in her being brought up on charges for numerous crimes. Unsurprisingly she had been happy to talk with the prosecutor’s office, and was shaping up to be the final nail in Crush’s coffin. I was just glad I’d been able to snag the papers she’d used to blackmail me. Her problems hadn’t ended there. Mr. Conroy had filed a formal complaint against her. It was doubtful that she would be returning to Roosevelt. I hadn’t been back to school and now it was looking like I never would. At least not at Roosevelt.

  When the dust had settled Constance had packed her things. Mr. Goodturn had driven her to the airport, and invited me along. We had talked it over and agreed that it wouldn’t be a kindness to tell her of Kenwoode’s sacrifice to protect her. She’d built
a new life and had a family. The husband and children she was returning to didn’t deserve to have their lives tainted by ancient history. Besides, considering what Kenwoode had become, I thought her life had turned out better. It was a very emotional goodbye. She’d surprised me by offering to take me back to Kentucky with her. Although I’d promised to visit, I’d declined.

  I had things I needed to do.

  Brock had been shocked by Kenwoode’s duplicity. Predictably, his surprise had morphed into anger ‘He’s lucky he’s in the hospital, or I’d kick his ass myself’. There hadn’t been a teary goodbye. When Saturday had rolled around Brock’s room was empty. Not even a note, although he had left his business card tucked into the frame of the mirror in his bathroom. I collected it for a rainy day. You never know when you might need a friend.

  “So how’re you doing?” Danton asked, pulling me back into the moment.

  I leaned back on the couch and ran my hand over the cushions. Mr. Goodturn stared at me through his ridiculously thick lenses.

  “I’m sort of out of it mostly. Being able to talk is helpful, but it’s not easy to get a handle on it. I killed somebody.” I’d shared with him what had happened when Crush had tried to kill me. He’d been surprised, but his take on it had been ‘self-defense’. I wondered how he would feel about me if he’d witnessed it. I wasn’t sure how I felt about myself for that matter. Have you ever done something that’s made you afraid...of yourself?

  “It shouldn’t be easy,” said Danton. “When it gets easy that’s when you have big problems.”

  I was going to say something smart, like I already had big problems when my new and fancier phone buzzed. I numbly pulled it out of my pocket, looking at the message on the screen. “I’m supposed to be at Maddy’s by seven.”

  “You sure? Maybe you’d be better off just taking it easy tonight,” said Danton, putting a hand on my shoulder.

  “He’s quite right, Benjamin. You cannot save everyone or change what is in the past. But you’ve made a difference. There’s no harm in taking a little more time for yourself,” said Mr. Goodturn.

  “No, I can’t. The mess on Thursday made me miss the last time they invited me over. If I don’t show tonight her parents will totally write me off. Besides, she’s my best friend.” I pretended to cough to cover the hitch in my voice.

  “Uh huh. Okay. Let me give you a ride over.”

  “Nah. Thanks Danton. I’ll take a bus.” I had another stop to make on the way. Something I wanted to do alone.

  He gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze. “You know, I think it would be okay if you started calling me Aiden. I’m not even on the force anymore.” His suspension had gone the way he’d anticipated, but he’d somehow managed to get a year’s pay out of it.

  “Thanks...Aiden.” When I said it, I didn’t feel right. It would probably take a while.

  He and Mr. Goodturn walked downstairs with me and I waved goodbye as they walked into the pawnshop together. They were becoming friends and I was glad. The overlap of knack and normal was entering a new zone. One that wasn’t jacked up.

  Hopping on a bus I tried to relax. As it growled along the street I watched the reflected light from Christmas decorations stream by on the windows. Snow was still falling but it had eased up.

  The lives affected by the events surrounding the accident were on my mind. Kenwoode was a mess physically, totally crippled by the impact he’d taken from the oncoming vehicle that had been bearing down on Justine. I was conflicted about him. On the one hand I owed him: he’d brought Constance and me together and had helped revive Mr. Goodturn. But what he’d done to Justine was unforgiveable. After Mr. Goodturn had explained Kenwoode’s sacrifice, making Constance believe that he was in love with someone else to drive her away to safety, I’d gotten a different perspective on his character, there were qualities that had probably drawn Constance to him in the first place. It made hating him for what he’d done harder. I wished that I had known him back then.

  Danton had leaked enough information back through his contacts at the SPD that Kenwoode would be fortunate not to spend the rest of his life in jail. I didn’t hold out much hope for what would happen in court. I tried to content myself that his being paralyzed would keep him out of commission.

  The bus jerked to a stop and I got off in front of my destination. Halfway up the steps I had to shake off some reluctance. The guilt and regret I’d been dealing with wasn’t all mine. I needed to lay some of that baggage at the doors of the people it really belonged to.

  Invoking my camo I slipped in and got on the elevator. I already knew what floor Breno and Justine were on. I’d sneaked into their rooms once already. Tried to. Breno’s had been crowded because he was sharing a room with another patient who had lots of visitors. Justine was in a private room and her parents had been present. Thank you, no.

  I didn’t see many visitors in the halls. The door to Justine’s room was open and I walked in and I almost ran right into her parents. They were arguing. Her mother looked ragged. Dark circles under her eyes, her hair flat and stringy. Thinking back I couldn’t remember ever seeing her looking anything less than picture perfect. Her dad was dressed in jeans and an expensive sweater. He looked less haggard but was clearly distressed with Mrs. Winters’ anger. I started to back out of the room, and then their conversation made me hesitate.

  “Charlene, she won’t even know. Come home with me,” said Justine’s dad.

  “I’ll know. I don’t want her to be alone. It isn’t right. She’s my daughter. What if she wakes up and her memory’s come back? She’ll be scared.”

  Mr. Winters hung his head. “We’re leaving in a week. They’re experienced in this sort of thing. We’ll be with her the entire time. Please, let’s go home and get some rest.”

  Every time I’d seen or interacted with Mrs. Winters she’d been harsh and mean. So imagine my surprise when she threw her arms around her husband and started crying.

  “It’s my fault. I’m the one that’s always been on top of her. I never let her breathe. Over protected her. She never would have run away if I’d just trusted her.”

  “It’s our fault. She’s our daughter. We’ll get through this.”

  “Switzerland is so far away. What if they can’t help her? What if she has to stay there for months?” she said, wiping her eyes with her palms.

  Putting his arm around her, Mr. Winters led her to the doorway. “The specialist I met seemed to be familiar with her condition. We’ll take it one day at a time,” he said as they left.

  She’d lost her memory? A specialist had come to see her? A suspicious shiver ran down my spine. I walked over to her bed and rested my hands on the rail. I’d tried to protect her. I’d fought to keep her out of the Shade mess, but she’d insisted on putting herself in dangerous situations. Mr. G and Aiden had convinced me that while feeling guilty was understandable, I hadn’t just stood by without trying to stop her.

  Her arms were laying on top of the sheets, her right in a cast that ran from shoulder to wrist. Her face looked relaxed, and her hair was starting to return to her natural color, more of the dark blond showing than the platinum. It made her look strangely angelic.

  I stroked her cheek, grieving for the sweet girl I had danced and laughed with, who had been swept up in a fight that stretched back decades.

  Her eyes opened. I took my hand away, startled. She winced and then focused on me.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “Just a friend from school,” I said.

  “Can you call a nurse? I’m really thirsty. They don’t come right away when I use this,” she said tapping a remote control.

  “Sure.” I stepped back, preparing to leave.

  “Hey,” she said. I turned around.

  “Yeah?”

  “Were we close?” she asked, lifting her head off the pillow.

  I stood by the door and nodded. “Yeah, we were close.” My voice cracked.

  “Close.” She frowned. “Like re
al close? Like, you know, ‘going out’ close?”

  Even with her memory impaired she was still pinning me with that question. “No, we were just friends. Homeroom. You know.”

  “What’s your name? For like, when my memory comes back.” she asked, tilting her head to one side. Her brown eyes caught the light and I thought I could see them getting teary.

  “Benjamin.”

  She frowned. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you. Thanks for coming to see me, Benjamin.” She closed her eyes and let her head fall back.

  Invoking my camo again, I left the room and stood in the hall trying to get myself together. A nurse passed me and entered the room. I smiled to myself. She was carrying a cup with a straw in it. Justine not remembering me made me sad, but was it a blessing for her?

  I was tempted to call it a night. The visit had affected me more than I had thought it would, but Breno’s room was just a few doors away. I could see that the door to his room was open too. When I poked my head in I was surprised to see two doctors standing by his bedside.

  “I’m telling you I admitted him. They weren’t there. Now they are,” said a rail thin male doctor. He was tapping a sheaf of papers that he held in one hand.

  The other doctor, a curly-haired blond, who was almost as tall as him, shook her head. “Teeth don’t grow back Ahmed. You made a mistake.”

  The hair on my neck stood straight up. I glanced at Breno, who was lying in the bed with his eyes closed. No cast, no tubes or wires. He looked pretty good for a guy who had been assaulted by a rogue Natural. In fact he looked really good.

  I stared at him while the doctors continued to argue.

  “It’s not just that, Cathy. When he came out of the coma an hour ago his metabolics were ridiculous. Perfect,” said Ahmed.

  Cathy shook her head. “Okay, that’s unusual, but they’re two different things. Don’t go telling the chief of staff that you think an adult regrew missing teeth. In less than a week!”