Halfblood Journey

by Rheaume, Laura

  “Uh, sure. I mean, I got nothing to hide.” Phillip leaned back in his chair, suddenly unsure when Scythe sat down on the low table. He glanced quickly at Ian, whose face gave nothing away but who had shifted nervously in his seat, and then back at the young man in front of him.

  “Good.” Scythe leaned forward only minutely, making eye contact and gathering his power. Focusing, he shot it like a dart into the man’s mind. Phillip froze, his breath caught, along with his will, between one moment and the next by the net Scythe had thrown over his mind. “Breathe. Now, show me the Phillip that posed as your grandson.”

  Scythe waited at the doorstep of the old man’s mind, letting the suggestion bring forward the spheres that contained the man’s thoughts and memories. He brushed them with his power, getting glimpses of what was inside each, but they contained memories of the boy in the photo, not the man they were looking for.

  “What...?” Phillip managed to choke out, then stopped.

  Ian moved uncomfortably on the couch, but remained silent.

  Scythe tried another suggestion, “A young man, in his early twenties, a freedom fighter.” Still nothing. “He knew about you, about your grandson, he wanted to infiltrate the border patrol.”

  “Don’t know what you’re...who it…”

  Then, it came to Scythe, a missing piece just sitting there in plain sight. “Show me the people who came to you, asking about the terrorists. Who came here, Phillip?”

  A sphere jumped forward, and another, until five spheres wove in and around each other before him. With the ease developed from years of practice, Scythe skimmed them. The first was a memory of the local police, asking around at one of the local diners. The second and third contained a more thorough door to door search conducted by a large force of Kin soldiers; the ghost memory of two of his neighbors getting pulled out of their homes and taken away eased its way through the wall of one of the spheres.

  “Ken…” Phillip said, “and Linna.”

  Their names were steeped in the feelings the man had about them. Scythe knew that Phillip believed they were totally innocent and was still hurting because they hadn’t returned from the 'routine investigation.' He also knew that dozens of others had been similarly detained, many of whom had not been seen either.

  The fourth was a couple from the Human government, an older woman and a man. Scythe knew the woman by reputation; she worked in intelligence. The man was her assistant. They asked questions, took information about the detainees, and left their contact information.

  The fifth contained the only memory of a Human that was approximately the right age. Scythe stepped into it. From a short distance away, he heard Phillip gasp as they both became fully immersed in the memory.

  Phillip put down the bag on the floor and picked up the keys he had dropped while pulling them out of his pants. He could smell the barbecue brisket he had just bought and he smiled in anticipation. Dinner is going to be delicious, and, to boot, there is a game scheduled for tonight.

  He whistled brightly while he unlocked the door, pocketed the keys and scooped up the bag. He was just going in when he heard, “Excuse me, sir.”

  He turned his head to see brown hair that was too long to be respectable, nearly to the shoulders. The eyes looked sincere, though, and he wasn’t dressed like a punk. Just the hair then, he thought. I guess they got to express themselves somehow.

  “Yeah?” Phillip asked grumpily. “Whatcha want?”

  “Excuse me sir, I’m an associate of Ms. Treu. I believe she talked with you earlier this…”

  “Yeah, I know her. What do you need?” The brisket was warm through the bag, but it wasn’t going to stay that way. Smelled so damn good.

  “Ms. Treu wanted me to ask you a few more questions.”

  “She can’t vid?”

  “Certainly she can, but this is more secure…”

  “Whatever, get on with it.”

  “Oh, please forgive my mother. You work for Cyrin, Corp. correct? As a manager?”

  “Yes,” he said, taking a breath and trying for patience. No use in fussing. It was gonna take however long it was gonna take.

  “You are also helping the border patrol unit that is currently stationed here?”

  “I run errands for them, get them supplies, take care of things when they need it. Just for a little extra, you know. Just started that Mon., though.”

  “...and that’s about it. Thank you, sir.” He bowed and turned away.

  Phillip closed the door, his thoughts already on a dinner he’d have to reheat and a game that was about to start. The memory started to fade.

  “What the hell was that?” Scythe exclaimed uncharacteristically, sitting back and pulling out of the man’s mind abruptly.

  “Ouch!” Phillip grabbed his head and grimaced in pain. He slouched in his chair, sweating and making no attempt to hide his fear.

  Scythe’s mind was whirling. He frowned, staring at Phillip as if the man had personally offended him.

  “What?” asked Ian, leaning forward and staring back and forth between the two men. “What did you see, Scythe?”

  “I didn’t see anything.” He turned to Ian. “I didn’t see it.”

  “Okay, then, what?”

  “Holy crap, Ian. He is a ghost.” Scythe stood up, paced to the doorway and came back again. “He’s a ghost. That’s why we can’t find him. You were right, Phillip” Scythe’s intensity didn’t comfort the old man at all. He leaned deeply into the upholstery, away from Scythe. “No one knows.”

  “Scythe,” Ian said, “you're raving and scaring the poor man. I’m not feeling too great, either. What’s going on?”

  Scythe sat down in front of Phillip and gathered his power again, “One more time.”

  “No!” Phillip screeched, finding his voice. “No way, you...I don’t know what that was, ‘cause we all know ain’t no Kin that have powers like Humans do...but whatever it is you’re doin,’ you ain’t doin’ it on me again.”

  “Scythe,” Ian began uncertainly, leaning forward.

  “Phillip,” Scythe said sharply, and the man jerked and looked at him reflexively. Scythe latched on to his thoughts without any effort. “Show me the man who said he was Mrs. Treu’s aide.”

  The sphere jumped forward again and Scythe embraced it, wrapping himself around it this time.

  “Excuse me, sir.” The memory started. Scythe studied the man’s accent, body, clothing and mannerisms. He was frustrated to have such limited Human senses: extremely weak smell and hearing, no sense of the visitor's power, although Scythe knew now it was there. He felt the itch latch on to him for the first time in the case, the desire to hunt; heightening his anticipation was the fact that the man was strong, a real challenge.

  “Stop, please,” he heard Phillip. “It’s giving me a headache.”

  “Scythe,” Ian said disapprovingly.

  Scythe ignored them both.

  “...Just for a little extra, you know. Just started that Mon., though.”

  “...and that’s about it. Thank you, sir.” The young man bowed and turned away.

  Because Scythe was paying close attention this time, he noticed the break in time. The light coming from the window down the hall was slightly dimmer, the food felt colder, his legs were minutely more tired and his feeling for the young man was more familiar.

  Where is the rest? he wondered. There was nothing else in the memory, so he pulled back, looking at the sphere and the area around it. He focused harder, spreading his power until it encircled the sphere, something he had never tried before. The sphere contracted slightly, and beyond it, Scythe saw its shadow...

  Phillip yelled out, “Stop!”

  “Scythe,” Ian said, leaning forward farther and extending his hand.

  “Don’t,” Scythe warned, sensing the man’s intentions.

  Ian froze, saying, “I think you should stop. It’s hurting him, and he’s not the enemy, Scythe.”

  “Wait,” Scythe replied. Phillip had s
tarted whimpering quietly.

  Scythe moved into the shadow, a place that felt like the memory he had just visited, but was more fluid. It was like a dream that slipped away as soon as the sleeper woke, or like grabbing onto water that was flowing across one’s hand. He could barely comprehend what he saw: the young man talking, gesturing, holding up something...a picture. The young man was in the apartment...Doing something to him, to Phillip…no, taking something.

  Then he was in the hall again, thanking him.

  Scythe sat back, still seeing the images from Phillip’s lost memory. When he blinked it away, his face went still and blank at the sight of the man before him. Phillip’s eyes were closed, and he was holding his chest and breathing heavily. Sweat stood out on his brow and his skin was much paler than before.

  “I am finished,” Scythe said.

  Phillip only nodded.

  “Did you see what happened to you?”

  Phillip nodded again.

  “He...he changed your memory somehow,” Scythe said, amazed. He still could hardly believe it. “I think he was trying to erase some of it.”

  “Are you okay?” Ian asked, he got up and went to Phillip’s side, touching the man’s shoulder lightly. “Do you need something?”

  Phillip shook his head, his eyes still closed. He was panting heavily.

  Ian gave Scythe a harsh stare. “I thought he was going to have a heart attack. That was not necessary.”

  “No, it was absolutely necessary, but, I regret that you were hurt, Phillip,” said Scythe. He explained to Ian, “He, the ghost man, interviewed Phillip about his grandson, and about his job. There were other things, too, but I don’t know what they are, because the memory is faded, damaged. This guy’s power is, I think, erasing memories.”

  Ian stared at Scythe, “I’ve never heard of anyone having power like that. If it’s true, which seems impossible, it would be an incredible ability.”

  “It’s no wonder we didn’t know about him. He’s probably been hiding for years. I’d hide, too, especially if I were Human.” He looked at Phillip, “You might not want to let it get out that you know; it could be dangerous for you.”

  “Coming from you, that sounds like a threat,” the old man said weakly, “since you practically did the same thing.”

  Scythe did not argue because Phillip was right.

  “I think it’s time you left,” said Phillip.

  Scythe nodded, standing. Ian stayed by the man for another moment, “Do you need a doctor?”

  “If he wasn’t Kin, I’d say I need a lawman. As it is, I just want you to get.”

  “We are sorry. We didn’t come here to harm you. We are after the terrorists.”

  Phillip nodded, closing his eyes again.

  When it was clear that he would be all right, they left, closing the door behind them. Ian’s lips were tight and his angry eyes stared at Scythe, but he kept silent in the hallway.

  Scythe’s thoughts were flying by so fast that he could hardly keep up with them. Every piece of information had to be reevaluated for its reliability; the possibility of tampering had to be considered for each person involved. This explained, at least in part, several of the holes in and misleading aspects of the information trail. This man, whose association with the terrorists was still in question, had been right there inside the operation and had erased his very existence from nearly everyone’s memories. Everyone except Mercy, whose strong power may have hindered his ability to affect her similarly, or perhaps he had just not gotten close enough to her. A third possibility was that he had successfully altered her mind, but was not thorough about it, something that would be noticeably atypical. Regardless, Scythe was going to have to have access to Mercy’s memories.

  He sighed inwardly. He had been avoiding close contact with her since the day he had almost lost control. She seemed to be bringing out the worst in him. In addition, it looked like Ian would have a problem with him using his ability on her.

  At the same time that he was reevaluating all of his assumptions, he was also feeling a strange sense of kinship with the terrorist. Scythe had been researching the relatively recent surge in Humans developing special abilities for over five years; in all that time, he had never stumbled upon someone whose power rivaled his own in terms of mind control. This man was someone like him. The man’s young face hovered in front of him, unassuming, congenial, and altogether harmless: a warm smile, eyes eager to please, and a hearty laugh. His was a trap well laid for the unaware.

  Scythe smiled, because he was aware and getting hungry.

  When they reached the motorcycle, Ian could not hold himself back any longer. “Is that how you always use your power?”

  “No, usually I kill them after, so I don’t have to be as kind,” said Scythe offhandedly, still distracted by his thoughts. He knew it was going to set Ian off, but he did it anyway. It was better for the man to know the truth now. He got on the bike and started it up. “Let’s go,” he said when Ian didn't move to get on.

  “Really? You really kill...how often, Scythe?” Ian's anger was tinged with disbelief.

  Scythe drew in a breath and let it out, his eyes steely. “Ian, the people I deal with are not nice, old men.”

  “So, like...a couple…”

  “I’m not going there with you, so back off. You getting on or walking?”

  Ian sat behind him without another word. Scythe shook off the itch between his shoulder blades that having an upset Ian at his back had started, failing to notice that it was something he would not have been able to do with any other person; it was something he would not have been able to do at all just a few weeks before. He took them out onto the nearest main road and headed toward the center of town. They easily found the small restaurant where Irv’s sister was taking orders; it was full of working people who were filling their stomachs before a long, hard day.

  “We’ll take that one,” Scythe said, pointing to a small table along the wall.

  “Alright,” the woman said, although she had been heading toward a table in the middle of the room. “Here’s your menus. I’ll bring coffee.”

  “Do you have orange juice?” Ian asked.

  “Sure, if you wanna pay for it. Be right back.”

  Scythe looked around, ignoring the many stares that they were receiving. He was used to getting attention in public places. His face and body had features of both Kin and Humans, so he was rarely taken for anything but what he was: a halfblood. It was only with Humans who were either incredibly sheltered or determinedly unobservant, like Phillip, that he was ever mistaken for full Kin. As for the Kin, their senses were too sharp to err that way. For a few people, a halfblood was taboo, something they were violently offended by; for most, it was merely disgusting. Rarely did anyone fail to stare or grimace at him. He let them get it out of their system. Experience had taught him that, except in extreme circumstances, most people would shortly begin to ignore him as long as he didn’t draw attention to himself.

  Beyond assessing their location, Scythe hoped that he would get a glimpse of his target, the ghost man. After all, there was no reason for the man to leave the area; as far as he knew, no suspicion was on him. Scythe hoped that he would be careless. Arrogance had left many openings that Scythe had taken advantage of in the past. Unfortunately, the man he was looking for was not in the restaurant, nor was there anyone that resembled him.

  He sighed, pulling out his tablet from his backpack, “Let it go, Ian.”

  His old friend shook his head, his face having taken the path from shock back to anger, “Not in this lifetime. I can’t believe that you would treat us like that.”

  “Us?” He asked without looking up, and entered a search of the local database.

  “Humans. I know you say you’ve changed, but no one goes from risking his life for others to coldly shrugging off murder.”

  After glancing at the nearest table, where someone had gasped at Ian’s words, Scythe met Ian’s eyes, “Ian, we are not talking abou
t this. You are a hundred years too early to be acting like you are my father.” He looked down when the tablet vibrated slightly and muttered, “You are soon to be some guy who needs a ride out of town.”

  Ian whispered, “No jokes, Scythe. And, don’t think that I’m gonna just sit by.” He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, his mouth set.

  Frowning, Scythe wondered if Ian’s choice of words was a coincidence. Knowing him, it wasn’t. He ignored the taunt.

  “You guys ready?” Irv’s sister asked, laying down a steaming mug of coffee and a glass of orange juice. She pulled out a small notepad and stared at it, pen hovering above the paper.

  “I'll have the barbecue brisket,” said Scythe.

  “Good choice. We don't usually have it this early, but there's a bit left over from last night, if you'll have it. If not, the steak and eggs is good, too."

  "No, I want the brisket." He could still smell it and feel the way it had made mouth water. Well, not his mouth but, still. He knew it was the best thing they had there.

  "Alright. We have some fresh bread, if you’re interested.”

  “Sure.”

  “Right. And you?” She raised her eyes to Ian. Her expression changed when she took her first close look at the handsome man.

  “Um, I’ll have the special, eggs fried and your bread sounds great to me, too. Thanks.” He handed her the menu, smiling politely.

  The woman’s eyes warmed and she smiled openly, “Coming right up, darlin'. We have some fresh fruit today, if you’re interested?”