"I don't use it here any more than you do—for instance, when you look at me and try to tell by my face what answer you think I want to hear."
Some laughter at this, nervous and small. She smiled at them. "It's not bad. Nor is it necessarily good. It just—is."
She ran her gaze around the circle, holding her empty hands palms up to them. "It just is," she repeated, hoping they would understand.
There was silence for a long time. Then, next to her, someone said, "Like wind."
"Or rain," someone else replied.
"Thunder."
"Trees."
"Black skin."
"Snow."
A chorus of voices suggested that which was in nature, uncontrollable, unbearably beautiful, and undeniably mundane. The shockingly everyday beauty of natural forces. The infinite humor of the divine. It just is. She sighed deeply. They would, she decided, be all right.
"Are there any other questions about it?" she asked.
Half a dozen hands shot up, and she took a moment to gather her thoughts so she could teach them something real about what she knew best.
When class ended, she left the humanities building and walked across the campus toward her rooms, her mind a jumble of student questions and her own concerns. She would go back to her rooms and call Alex, she decided. She needed help on this, and there was no one else she could trust.
As she crossed the quad, she heard a voice calling her and she stopped.
"Dr. Addams," it whispered hoarsely. "Here."
Katia. Katia's voice.
She turned back and walked toward the grouping of trees between buildings. She could almost see her.
"Katia," she said, keeping her voice low as she approached. "Are you okay?"
Katia gestured to her, and she walked into the trees.
Into the darkness. Katia's eyes glittered at her from the bushes like—like Emily's eyes. Emily's eyes.
Shit, Jaguar said to herself, catch a clue.
But Katia was looking at a point behind her and nodding, and Jaguar was aware of a sinking in her belly. Katia cooperating with the Telekine. She'd put on a good act.
"Nice piece," she said when she felt the muzzle at her back. "A 2010 laser fire?"
"Shut up," Steven's voice said behind her, low and intent. "Just do what I say."
He turned her around and walked her to an air runner that was waiting at the edge of the quad. He put her in it and pulled out a piece of black cloth, wrapped it around her head, and tied it tight as the air runner kicked into motion.
"Katia," she asked, "why are you doing this?"
"It'll be okay, Dr. Addams," she said. "He's not gonna hurt you. I made him promise not to hurt you. He's just gonna make you normal again, so you won't hurt anyone else."
Of course, Jaguar thought sadly. Of course.
"Is that what he's doing for you, Katia? Making you normal? Not an empath anymore."
A hand grabbed the back of her hair and shook hard. "Shut up. Katia, don't listen. He told us we shouldn't let her talk."
The air runner braked and came to a halt, and Steve pulled her out of it, pushed her ahead of him roughly. She counted twelve steps along a flat path. Three steps up. The sound of a door opening. They moved forward and she felt the shift from cold outdoor air to warm inside air. She heard the door click closed behind them.
"Good," Ethan's voice said. "Very good. You two go on upstairs and wait. I'll take it from here. Your weapon, Steve."
A moment of silence, and then she heard Katia, her voice rising into hysteria. "What're you doing? Steve? Professor Davis, what're you—"
Jaguar jerked toward the sound, felt pressure pushing against her, heard a gurgling in the throat that subsided.
No. He couldn't. She couldn't let him. Couldn't stop him. Pressure wrapped her head. He pushed her forward without touching her. She felt her legs moving down stairs fast.
"What're you doing?" she asked. No answer. The air around her grew cooler.
"Stop," he said, and her legs obeyed.
"Where's Katia?" No answer.
She felt breath on her neck. Air on her eyes. She brought her hands up to her face and felt for the blindfold. It was gone. The darkness was around her, maybe in her, rather than something she wore. It washed against her in waves of impenetrable silence.
Was she alone? Was he watching? Had he already stolen her vision? Her hearing?
Danger. There was danger. How immediate? Like lightning. Soul thief, pressing close.
She breathed, feeling her lungs working air in and out, hollow space filling with empty air. She was breathing.
Danger. There was danger. Immediate danger.
She was alone in the thick dark and she could smell the Telekine gloating, waiting to steal her gifts. A Telekine like lightning. She couldn't run. She couldn't hide. She couldn't fight. But her grandfather had taught her well.
You can't outrun lightning. Can't outpower it. All you can do is find the earth and drop.
She knew what to do.
Dark.
Call darkness to dark, and let the singing be the shadow. Shadow cat stalked and she felt the wind in its wake. Old friend, finding her, circling her.
Dark. Drop into it. Solstice dark. Drop down.
She began to curl in on herself.
Slowly, like the ungrowth of a leaf, she furled her body in, folding matter over spirit over matter in the dark. All internal talk silenced. All energy focused into a sphere of light that she hugged to her center. All of her, layered in a protective circle around a small core. She curled in like a sleeping deity. Rolled herself inward as if her body was the atmophere curving around a great blue planet, as if she were the wings of a great bird hugging the sun. Slowly, she rolled herself up and put herself away until she was only layers of thought curved over a song, which she began to sing.
This song, which would sing her into the darkness.
This song, which would hold her within it.
This song, which would fill her.
When she was small and singing, layered spirit under layered flesh that was still as ice, still as a rim of gold over a mountain, something like grace circled out of its spin through the solar system and came to rest near the spiraling song she had become.
Something like a tossing of light, protecting and protected by her song, as she folded into herself and the darkness, totally vulnerable, and totally enclosed.
Planetoid Three, Toronto Replica
Gerry eyed Alex hard. "I don't think that scarf's a good color for you," he noted. "Something about yellow washes you out."
"Thanks," Alex said. "The skirt's not really my size, either."
Gerry stepped out of the doorway, and Alex entered, closing the door behind him.
As soon as he was in, he took a deep breath of relief and let it out. Then he stripped from the skirt and scarf, pulled off the shades and coat, and rolled his pants back down over his boots.
"Um," Gerry asked, "is there something I need to know here?"
"Not a thing," Alex said. "We set to go?"
Gerry scratched at his head. "I guess," he said.
"Then let's move."
18
ALEX AND THE BAND MEMBERS FOUND JAGUAR'S apartment empty when they arrived that afternoon. When he searched for any lingering signal, any scent of her presence, it seemed as if she had been gone for some time. How long? And where had she gone to? He stifled his growing panic.
"Maybe she's in her classroom," Gerry said, still leaning on her buzzer. "Whaddaya think?"
"Go on and check," Alex said to Gerry, "If she's there, send her here. I'll stick around and see if she shows up."
"Yeah. Sure. Geez, it's not like Jag to stand us up. We gotta rehearse before tomorrow."
"I think there's probably a reason why she's not here," Alex said. "Try and keep things quiet. If anyone asks about Dr. Addams, tell them she was overcome by the flu or something. If neither of us shows up by tonight, call Rachel. She'll know what to do. O
kay?"
"Sure. Yeah. Okay."
As soon as he was gone, Alex used a trick Jaguar taught him to open the door to her building. He ascended the three flights to her apartment and opened that door as well. Once inside, he tried to relax. Tried to focus.
Tried not to think about where Jaguar might be or how little time, if any, he might have left.
He just focused, and felt for anything that might give him a clue as to where she would be.
"Save it," a voice said behind him. "I can tell you where she is."
He whirled around and found himself staring at a very tall and broad man in his late forties, who wore his thick dark hair in a ponytail that went halfway down his back. Alex recognized the face from the files he'd read. Leonard Peltier.
"Where?" he asked.
"With Ethan Davis," he said. "And she's in deep shit. I'll explain along the way."
He was already heading out the door as he spoke.
"Wait," Alex said. "Why're you involved in this?"
The man turned back and grinned. "You ask questions like someone else I know. Because I was asked to be."
"You're Peltier. Ex-army. Another one of Durk's brats?"
Leonard shook his head. "I'm Lakota. Native, like this Mohawk student I have. Katia. Someone I was asked to keep an eye on. She's the one I'm going after."
"Why should I believe you?" Alex asked.
Alex felt the twinge that was a subvocal request to speak telepathically. There was one good reason to believe him. He asked permission.
Okay, Alex said. Any other reason?
None, Leonard replied. But maybe you Should learn to believe yourself.
They stood and stared at each other. Alex read both fear and understanding in Leonard's eyes. He wondered what Leonard read in his. Every impulse in him was directed toward one goal. Find Jaguar. Find Jaguar. Find Jaguar.
"I'll tell you everything I know, which isn't everything," Leonard said out loud, "only I'm concerned about time. Maybe we should keep moving while I talk?"
Alex hesitated only one moment more. "Let's move," he said.
By the time they were down the stairs and Leonard had given him the basics, he was already sure they weren't moving fast enough.
Telekine, he thought.
Jaguar's caught herself a Telekine.
And he wondered if it could possibly get any worse.
"Get up," the voice said, and it wasn't pleased.
She heard it as if it was far away, but she responded as if it was very close.
She uncurled herself carefully, slowly, rose and opened her eyes a little at a time. How long had she circled herself in the darkness? Minutes, hours, or days?
There was dim light now. She saw that she stood in a large and open room. The air was cool and damp. A basement, she thought. As her eyes adjusted was able to make out shapes. Ahead were wide wooden stairs, outline of dark against light. Beyond that, a figure moving. The play of candlelight against a wall. A chair with a small table in front of it. Candle on the table. Someone sitting in the chair.
Ethan Davis.
She walked to him and he held up a hand. "I wouldn't if I were you," he said pleasantly enough.
"Are they dead?" she asked.
Ethan laughed. "Steve and Katia? No. Though why you should care after what they did to you is something I won't try to understand."
"Where are they?" Jaguar asked.
"Upstairs. In a state of altered consciousness. I'll attend to them when I'm through with you." He ran his eyes up and down her with something like admiration. "You must know a thousand ways to avoid death," he said.
"A thousand and one," she said, "to avoid a thousand and one different kinds of death. Shall I tell you all about them, one at a time?" She took a step forward and he raised his hand again.
"No, Scheherazade. You shall not." He pushed his hand forward, and she felt a stabbing sensation in her legs. She stopped walking.
"Very good," he said. "What you shall do is be very careful to keep your eyes lowered, and your body still. I suspect that what I can do supersedes even your talents in terms of speed and efficiency. However, after the display of ingenuity you've just given me, I hesitate to lay money on it. Jaguar," he asked, "where did you learn that trick?"
"What?" she asked. "Earth curl?"
"Is that what it's called? That's one of the chant-shape practices you don't talk about in your dissertation, isn't it?"
"It's a variant I picked up from an old man I know."
"Fascinating. I could have sliced the skin from your bones without disrupting the space."
She nodded. "It would have killed me all the same."
"Mm. You were absolutely undefended and totally impenetrable at the same time. It was—quite beautiful. You shimmered like molten glass. Are you aware of that?"
"I am. Is that why you didn't kill me?" She stayed still, but lifted her eyes to meet his.
He gestured with his hand like an orchestra conductor. "Eyes down, please. Thank you. That was part of it. I wanted to watch. And I suspected that in that state your empathic integrity was inviolable. Even if I killed you, I'd never touch your gift. Was I right?"
"You were."
"I thought so. Tell me more about it. For instance, why you didn't use your chant-shape to just slip away."
She paused. "What will you do with Katia and Steve?"
"Empaths are self-sacrificing fools, I've always thought."
"And Telekines are always confusing control with power."
"Are we?" he asked.
He raised his hand and swept it down in front of her, and a shiver of desire ran through her. She closed her eyes and breathed it away.
"If you'd slept with me, Jaguar, we might have been able to work out the difference."
"I don't use the arts for sex. I don't have to."
"Is that supposed to be an insult?"
The desire turned into pain, sharp and jolting. Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe it out.
"Is it direct contact?" she asked when it dissipated. "Or are you using cerebral cortex response?"
"Both. It works better that way."
Jaguar asked herself to remain very calm. Telekine like lightning, and all you could do was divert it or ground yourself. She could ground herself, but it wouldn't save her life. Or Katia's, or Steve's. She needed a diversion.
She touched a finger to her wrist. The blade rested cool and reassuring against her skin. He must know she still had it, but he knew he was faster. She could use her knife accurately in a second, but he worked in smaller units of time. Didn't matter. Arrogance or carelessness would kill you every time. Time. It was about time now. Buy time, and hope for an opening. She'd have precious little of it to act, if an opening should arise.
"How do you take gifts from people?" she asked.
He smoothed down the front of his pant legs and stood, folding his hands behind his back. This was his teaching position, she thought. Very alpha male. Very pompous ass. Why had she failed to see that in him before?
"Simple neural transfer. Telekines' nervous systems are slightly more permeable than others'. We can absorb and integrate changes from another pathway, under the right circumstances. There needs to be direct physical contact—preferably with exposed nerves, although that's not absolutely necessary. And the empath needs to be completely open. That's why the point of death is the best time. Then all gifts are laid bare. Except in your case, my dear."
Yes, she thought. He would want her open. He would bide his time until he could get her open. Time. Buy time, wait for the right time, act before he has time to react.
"Did you kill the other girls—the Gone Girls—for gifts?" she asked.
He curled his hand at her. "Two of them were slips of the finger, though there's always something to be said for tasting young death. One gave me esper, and the other a little unpracticed Adeptness. Not much use, but the real thing is only a touch away, and I have you to thank for that."
"I'm not an A
dept," she said.
"I know."
She frowned. Something wasn't making sense. Let it go, she told herself. Keep him talking. "Did you kill the dean, too?"
"Yes. For the obvious reasons, I'm ashamed to say. I wanted his job. And department politics being what they are, it was the only sure way of getting it. Also, I thought he would catch on if I let him linger too long. He was an intelligent man."
She tilted her head and considered him. "You've been poking at people for years, haven't you? How many bodies have you been through?"
"A few dozen, I suppose," he said, shrugging it off. "Learning anatomy from a book is pointless without hands-on experience. There was nobody important, believe me. But someday, when I have my gifts all in order, I'll explore broader seas."
"For yourself, or the army?"
"Whichever suits me," he said. "I suppose I'll stay with the army as long as they continue to cooperate. They do love a Telekine above all others. Telekines, and then Adepts. We're so good at managing the more delicate tasks."
"Assassinations?"
"And so on. Satellite work. Communications. Your telecom hasn't been performing as it should this semester, has it?"
She nodded. "And where do I fit in?"
"You are my reward. You, and the larger fish you bring to me."
Larger fish? She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but he held a finger to his lips.
"My turn," he said. "I want to know more about the gift I'll be receiving from you. I've watched your night walks, but I can't seem to grasp what it is you actually do. I know that it's an energy source, but which one?"
Shadow moving in shadow. Dream and not dream. Shared soul, animal self, Old one. Not an energy source he would give credence to. She shook her head.
"You wouldn't care for it," she said. "You give up a lot of control for the power you get."
"Don't worry your pretty face about that, Jaguar. I know what I'm doing." He twisted his hand. A sudden pain in her head told her he was right. She turned it away.
"Beautiful Jaguar. You're very good." He sighed in deep satisfaction. He held up a finger and sliced it down through the air. She felt a sensation as of the edge of a blade moving along the outer rim of a vein in her arm.
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