by Jim Johnson
And I bet he’d be interested to know that we could light candles with our freaking brains.
My thoughts started to get muddy after a while, so I hunkered down in the bed and turned off the lights, sad that Abbie was taking her time with her bath. Finally, I turned over and pulled the blankets up to my neck, and visualized swirling blue energies until my eyes got too heavy to stay open.
Chapter 25
OUR CUSTOMARY SATURDAY BREAKFASTS WERE USUALLY fun times—Abbie and I would pull together all the random ingredients left over in the fridge from the week before and create a tasty dish, sometimes with the help of an internet search but usually by throwing things together and seeing what happened.
This Saturday, though, was a quiet affair of cereal, cold milk, and sliced oranges. Abbie wasn’t in a talkative mood and I was both frustrated and also anxious to get out the door and go find out what Malcolm needed to talk about.
I made short work of my cereal and then got up from the table and quickly cleaned and stored my dishes. I glanced at Abbie. “I’m gonna head out and run some errands. Can I get you anything?” I kept my tone neutral and bright, hoping not to spark an argument.
She kept her eyes focused on whatever she was reading on her tablet. “No, thanks. What time will you be home? You said you’d help with laundry and such.”
I bit my lip. Crap, I had promised that. I glanced at the microwave clock. “Probably one or two? I don’t really have a schedule in mind.”
That comment made her glance up at me. I got a good look at her red-rimmed eyes and my heart sank into my feet.
“Fine. I might have to go into the office later. There’s a Congressional hearing coming up and my office is about three days behind on preparing notes. If I go, I’ll text and also leave you a note here.”
I tried a bright face, but doubted it was convincing. I sure didn’t believe it. “Sounds great. I’ll try to have dinner together if you’re late.”
She nodded at me, and then re-focused on her tablet. I stood there, uncertain if I should step over and give her a kiss or just leave. I decided the latter was probably the safer option at the moment.
I headed out of the house and made my way toward the bus stop, lugging along a heavy weight in my chest given how lousy things were going with Abbie. While I waited for a bus to arrive, I texted Malcolm to figure out where he wanted to meet. He responded almost immediately and gave me the address of a deli in southeast DC.
That raised a red flag in my mind so I checked the map on my phone for details on the neighborhood around the deli. I even pulled up the grainy satellite image. The neighborhood was one of the depressed areas of the District, not quite hood central but pretty close.
It took the better part of an hour to get to the closest bus stop near the deli. I had to transfer a couple times and walk a few blocks, but the weather was decent and I was in need of burning off some energy anyway. The tension coming off Abbie had served to get my adrenaline up, mostly out of a fear, probably irrational, of losing her.
I shook my head and muttered, “Stop thinking of the worst case scenario, girl. It’s not all that bad.” I tended to catastrophize a lot of situations, which my counselor had warned me about. The coping strategy was to think of the absolute worst case, and then figure out if it was really all that bad.
If Abbie and I did break up and I ended up needing a place to live, the first person I’d go to was Bonita. She’d put me up for a little while, either on her apartment couch or in the back room of her shop. I’d slept there once or twice, before meeting Abbie, and I could do it again if needed.
Though I sure hoped I didn’t need to. I wanted to believe I was old enough to not have to live on other people’s couches or in back rooms of stores, but I guess I wasn’t quite there yet. Not without a real job, anyway. “Damn you, Robert.” I liked my brother even less at that moment, though part of me knew he had been right.
All that aside, I loved Abbie, damn it. She brought out feelings in me no one else had. I loved the way she walked, and slept, and how she kissed me just right. She could talk about Congress just as easily as talking about comic books and the right makeup to wear for any outing. She wasn’t as open-minded as I was about some things, and I was maybe more strident in some areas, but damn. I loved the differences between us just as much as I loved our similarities.
I balled my hands up into fists and sighed out of frustration. I was so mad at myself—I had run away from conflict yet again. “Bad habit, Rachel. Gotta stop doing that.”
I was so distracted that I nearly missed my bus stop. I managed to pull the stop cord before the bus pulled away from the curb. The driver muttered at me as I got off the bus, but I was wary enough of my surroundings that I didn’t really notice.
I was a regular traveler to the District, though I usually spent most of my time in and near the Mall, when meeting Abbie or Robert or friends for lunch or for walking or jogging. I rarely made it to this area of DC, and for good reason. It wasn’t exactly the neighborhood you’d want to walk around in for any length of time.
I got oriented and made my way to the deli Malcolm had suggested, jaywalking across the street and avoiding a large pothole. I saw movement through the deli’s grimy window. Malcolm opened the door and joined me outside. He was in jeans, his big Ravens parka, and tan work boots.
I frowned as he moved toward me from the deli’s entrance. “Aren’t we going to eat?”
“Nah, their food sucks. There are way better places to go. I thought we’d walk and talk instead.”
I stared at him for a few moments, reaching out with whatever meager senses I had. I even tried opening up my inner Eye, like Bonita had started to show me, but I was so distracted by thinking about Abbie and being nervous about the area that I had a hard time reading him.
Finally, I gave up and nodded, deciding I should at least try to trust him. We’d been thrown into a wall together, after all. I fell into step with him, the growl in my stomach making me wish I had thought to pack a granola bar.
He glanced at me as we walked down the block and then crossed the street. “Thanks for meeting up with me.”
I ignored the looks some of the people on the sidewalk gave us as we walked. I guess a white girl and a black guy walking together in this neighborhood was worth looking at.
“So, how you doing?” He looked downright shifty.
“All right, I guess.” I glanced at him sidelong and tried the direct approach. “Strange things have happened to me and I think they’re all related to that day we met at Branchwood.”
He nodded, eyes furtively moving from side to side, as if he was scanning the whole neighborhood in front of us. “The day we saw that blue energy tunnel and got thrown into a wall.” He directed me toward a side street and we worked our way along another dilapidated city block.
“Right. I’ll be honest, Malcolm.” I glanced around but didn’t see anyone following us. “I’ve been hearing voices from time to time, and seeing what I think are dead people...ghosts.”
He stopped in his tracks and stared at me. “Voices and ghosts? Shit, that’s weird.”
I frowned. “What’s been happening to you?”
He lifted a hand and then let it drop to his side with a slap. “Like I said, voices and flashes of images, but nothing clear enough to understand or even make much sense of. It’s like I’m half a frequency off getting the right reception, you know? And there’s other stuff too, but…”
I raised a hand to stop him and focused ahead of me. The buildings along the block were looking more and more run down and decidedly vacant, and the next block looked positively seedy. I rested my hand on Malcolm’s forearm. Alarm bells started to go off in my head and I could feel hackles rising on the back of my neck.
“Malcolm, where exactly are we going?”
He rested a hand on top of mine and guided me toward the inset doorway of the last building on the street. “Stand here, out of sight.” He nodded toward the building across the inters
ection from us. A tall man in a black coat stood in the empty doorway, hands deep in his pockets. “That’s the place.”
Memories of walking toward a dorm hall invite late at night back at college flashed in my mind, the week before I dropped out. The fight or flight feeling was rising up in me. I had chosen to fly that time, with a little help. “And what is it?” I was bracing myself for the response, thinking I’d fight my way out of this one if I had to. I was tired of running away.
He stared hard at the building. “Pretty sure the scumbag who gave drugs to my sister is in there.”
Chapter 26
I FOLLOWED MALCOLM’S STARE TOWARD THE two-story building, taking in the boarded-up windows, lack of a door on the entrance, and the overall run-down look. Not to mention the thug standing in the open doorway, who looked a little too much like the Terminator for my comfort.
“You sure?”
“I hear it’s a drug den, you know? A place where addicts go to shoot up.”
“You sure your sister’s into drugs?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. I didn’t think so, until recently.” He ran a shaky hand over his shaven head. “Sandelle’s my youngest sister and she’s kinda impulsive. She hangs out with the wrong crowd, if you know what I mean.”
“I really don’t, Malcolm.” I raised my hand toward the building and let it drop. “I’ve tried hard to avoid this kind of thing since high school, and it’s nowhere near my comfort zone.”
I focused on him, even pulled at his sleeve to get his attention off the building and on me. “Why did you bring me here, Malcolm? What did you think I’d be able to do to help you?”
He stared into my eyes for several heartbeats, a range of emotions playing across his face one after another. Finally, he set his jaw and said, “I remembered how brave you were that day at Branchwood. You went after that old woman without really thinking twice.” He shrugged. “I don’t know anyone else I trust to back me up when I go in there.”
My eyebrows shot up and grazed my hairline. “What? You’re going in?” I stared at the building again, focusing on the muscular dude. “Unless I’m mistaken, that guy is probably armed and must be, like, three times your size.”
Malcolm stood up a little straighter and puffed up his chest inside his already-puffy parka. “I can take him.”
A weird little buzzing sounded in my ears just then. I stared at him, sensing a change. “How?”
“I have my means.” He gave me a mysterious look that then softened to pleading. “Please, Rachel. Will you help me?”
The hackles were dancing on my neck, as if someone had switched on a live electric current near us. I stepped away from him and felt my back graze the wall behind me. For a split second, I thought I saw a flash of bronze light around him, like an aura.
I shook my head to clear my eyes. “There’s no way I’m going into a crack house, Malcolm. But…” I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. “I’ll keep 9-1-1 ready to call in case you need help. Okay?”
He looked disappointed, and I groaned inwardly. Seemed I couldn’t please anyone today.
“All right. Best I can hope for, I guess.”
Without another word, he slipped from our cover, set his shoulders, and started walking toward the building. The buzzing in my ears intensified. I was impressed—he had to have an impressive set of balls to stride across the intersection like that. He was showing off more confidence than he had shown just a moment ago, even more than he’d shown when he went with me to check things out at Branchwood.
The guy in the entrance took notice and stepped out of the doorway and approached Malcolm. I saw the glint of sunlight on metal in the man’s open coat. Like a baseball bat, or a…
“Gun!” I cried out. “Malcolm!”
Malcolm raised his hands, which were suddenly glowing with bright blue energy. As I stared, dumbfounded, a thunderclap sounded and then a spear of blue fire laced with bronze flashed from Malcolm’s hands and plowed into the thug’s chest.
The man was lifted right off his feet and crashed into the wall behind him. Malcolm turned toward me with a terrifying glint of blue electricity in his eyes. “Come on!” He turned and moved toward the entrance of the run-down building.
My feet were rooted in place. I could barely believe what I had just seen. Some piece of my reasonable mind chewed on it, however. Hell, if ghosts and souls and electric tunnels to Purgatory were real, sure, why not add creating blue spears of fire and hurling them at people to the list?
If we were going crazy, why not go all the way?
Malcolm mounted the steps up to the open entrance. The thug he’d taken down wasn’t moving. I reached down for some of those ley threads and found them, and pulled some together to give me strength. Buoyed by their power, I released my feet and rushed across the street.
The thug was crumpled up against the open entrance, blood drizzling out of his mouth and nose. The front of his coat and shirt were smoking and there was a large blackened spot on his chest where Malcolm’s fire-spear had struck him.
“Jesus, Malcolm. What did you do?” My heart was beating way too fast, and I forced myself to gather those ley threads around myself like a protective cocoon.
Malcolm glanced at me with a mix of anger and fear in his eyes. “Just…I don’t know, exactly. I got mad at Sandelle the other day when I found out what she was doing and sort of accidentally sparked my living room curtains. I felt this…surge of power.”
I stared at him. “Can you control it?”
He gestured toward the prone thug. “Ask him.”
“Christ.” I kneeled down and checked for the man’s pulse. I found it, slow and steady. “You’re lucky, Malcolm. This guy’s alive.” I had the presence of mind to look around. “What if someone saw you?”
Malcolm blanched, and glanced around the immediate neighborhood. No one appeared to stir or move along the street. “Maybe we got lucky?” He didn’t sound all that confident. A glance showed me that most of his earlier bravado had drained away.
I placed my palm on the unconscious thug’s forehead and then gingerly opened his coat to check his burn. I glanced up at Malcolm. “Well, we’re here, dammit. Get your ass in there and see if you can find the drug dealer.”
He stared into my eyes, then glanced at the man he’d taken down. He turned away and then headed into the dump of a building.
I muttered another curse and examined the man’s chest. I suspected it looked worse than it felt. All of his chest hair had been fried off—little ashy curlies remained, flaking away where I touched them. The skin underneath was blackened, but there were only a couple little blisters. I opened his coat a bit more, revealing a handgun in a shoulder holster. I grimaced and popped the restraining strap, pulled out the pistol, and tossed it into the rubble near the stairs.
I glanced toward the entrance but didn’t see Malcolm. God, he could have killed this guy. I felt an itch at the base of my neck and flinched, then got a blue flash through my inner Eye. For a split second, I saw a stream of threads connecting the man underneath my hands to that grid of ley energy far away. Miss Chin had said we were all connected somehow…
He groaned. I gently pressed down, keeping him on the ground. “You okay?” The moment I said it, I shook my head. Stupid question, Rachel. Of course he’s not all right.
He opened one eye, looking decidedly out of it. “What…happened?”
“You got jumped, that’s all.” I gestured toward his chest. “Looks like you got burned. Were you playing with fireworks?” Lame, but I was pretty much making it up as I went.
He groaned again and moved his hands to feel at his chest. I intercepted to keep his hands away. “You’ve got a little burn. Doesn’t look serious, but you’ll want to get it cleaned up.”
“Can you…help me up?” He didn’t look like he had much fight in him, so I did as he asked. God, he was heavy. Thick muscles, hard chest. And I had almost been right—he was, like, twice Malcolm’s size. It took an effor
t but I got him to his feet. He leaned heavily on me as I helped him down the stairs.
He nodded his thanks. “Dunno what happened, but I’ma go now…get some rest…”
I guided him to the street and pointed him toward the closest bus stop. “Go on, then. Be safe?” I cringed again. Christ, what a stupid thing to say.
I watched him stagger along the road, looking like a drunk vagrant. Clearly he wouldn’t be back any time soon. I remembered the gun and turned around and retrieved it, gingerly holding it in my hand. I’d never handled one before and had no interest in doing so, but I knew well enough that you didn’t leave one just laying around in the street.
I glanced into the open doorway but was not about to go in. “Malcolm?”
There was silence for a moment or two, then he called out, “Hang on. I’m coming out.”
I heard footsteps crunch on debris, and then he reappeared in the doorway with a frown on his face. “He’s not here. There are a few people…upstairs, but…they’re all out of it.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
He gestured toward one of his forearms. “They’re addicts. Lights out.” He glanced around. “What happened to the guy I zapped?”
I pushed aside my question on how Malcolm knew what an addict looked like. I gestured down the street. “I helped him stand up and then he took off. No fight in him. I think you got him good. I’m not sure he even knew what his name was.”
An uncertain look crossed Malcolm’s face, and then he pointed at the gun in my hand. “Where’d you get that?”
“Off the guy. I didn’t want him to shoot one of us.” I held it in three fingers and offered it to him. “I sure don’t want it.”
Malcolm took the handgun and worked a couple of mechanisms. The magazine popped out partway. He pulled it free and then thumbed the bullets out of it and into his palm. He glanced at me as he tossed the empty magazine into the building and then flung the bullets out into the street. They rained down in a dull sparkle.