by Lin Lustig
He wondered if John usually played a charming rogue and made a mental note to look up some of his previous films. The director, a man with a sophisticated nerd vibe, called cut and broke off to talk to the sound techs. An assistant brought John a towel and Emerson couldn't stop staring at the way his wet clothes clung to his chest, suctioning to his abs like rice paper, and then dripped down to his already soaking lap. He stood and sopped up some of the drips, his khakis doing little to disguise his muscular thighs and generous bulge. Emerson's heart rate ticked up and then the worst thing possible happened.
John looked at him.
Right at him, eye to eye and Emerson couldn't swallow. John's lips turned up just a fraction before making a show of pulling up the edges of his shirt to wring out the water. Emerson was hard and had to excuse himself, ridiculously happy he wore too much black to be obviously in discomfort and that his blush only made his cheeks appear bronzed.
He was here to work, not to hook up. That thought didn't stop him from a quick search of John's social media to decipher if he'd possibly been flirting. That was a decided no after a dozen articles of John dating a plethora of women. Emerson wasn't surprised, but he was a little disappointed. It took another five minutes before he could go back out there without drawing attention.
It was hard enough being around a bunch of energetic young actors and actresses. He often slipped and absorbed by accident, but at least in this crowd they had enough that no one questioned a day of feeling extra tired here and there. From now on he'd just have to focus on his job and keep a safe distance from Mr. Beechum's lickable abs.
Motion jerked him to the side, dislodging the memory as quickly as it had arrived. Emerson finished the breath he'd been taking and quickly scanned the car as he regained control. John hadn't moved and no one in the subway car had made any advances. It seemed his momentary space out hadn't put John at risk. Looking at him now still felt like looking at him then. He was still beautiful, still suave, still drew him in like an addict, but Emerson could see past the shell of confidence.
John was lost. He didn't know it, probably couldn't see even the barest hint of it, but he didn't know how to deal with anything real. Real love, real drama, real people. He had acting down, a true professional, but it wouldn't be enough if UHP and GANF were working together against Abnormals. Their kind might need all the help they could get, and Emerson wasn't going to abandon any of his people in need. Especially not John.
CHAPTER 13
John
He never should have left Licia alone all day. Trusting her to behave was like allowing a wasp to build a nest at your front door and being surprised when you got stung.
He also shouldn't have pushed things with Emerson, but there was a special kind of stressful hell that came with indecision. Being stuck in-between was like carrying the burden of both sides without the benefits. His whole life was in-between. No longer young, but not yet old. Working on Broadway, but in a failing show. Up for a part, but fading in popularity. Loving Em, but not being who he deserves.
Where they were now was better. They might not be a thing right now, but there was a spark of hope in John's chest that refused to burn out. Emerson was still here, still at his side, and he still leaned into that kiss like it had been a lifeline.
They stepped off the subway car at the 72nd street station and jostled through the tide of people to the exit and up onto the street level. Glen's text reported Licia had last been spotted near Cherry Hill inside Central Park.
“She should be between us and The Lake.” John pulled his coat closed and zipped it up against the dropping October temperatures.
Emerson didn't readjust for the cold and said, “And Glen knows that, how?”
“His brother works with controversial defensive tech and Glen's been using their evolving facial recognition software to track her for years.”
Emerson stopped. “That's incredibly creepy.”
“Oh, I know. She knows, too. Glen's been in love with Licia for years and he's real weird about it, but also upfront about being weird about it?” John dodged a jogger and their dog, then crossed Central Park West and headed for the park entrance. He'd answered with the question because he never understood why else Licia would put up with him stalking her from afar.
Emerson quickened his pace to keep up. “Are you both in love with her?”
John stopped too suddenly and nearly tripped himself. “We just helped each other out a while back, but we've never been a thing.” John shrugged. “Glen loves her. I respect her. She tolerates our presence... sometimes.”
“John,” Emerson drew out his name.
He raked back his hair, thinking. “I won't deny she's special to me, but I'm not in love with her.” Not anymore. Maybe back then when they'd been on the run together with only each other to trust, but now he... he wasn't sure how he felt.
“But you do love her.” Emerson stopped walking along the paved pathway, trees reaching up and over their heads.
“I... don’t know. Maybe.” John took three more strides and then turned back to face him, but the distance between them didn’t diminish. John would have to adapt to thinking of Emerson as apart from him, instead of a part of him. No matter how much hope he held onto, he had to respect the reality of the moment.
Emerson’s expression was lost in shadow, but he seemed to realize the gap between them and started walking again. “What's the plan? She could be anywhere, and you have no way of contacting her. What’s her ability, anyway?”
“Short version is she’s an empath. And actually, I do have a plan. She just hates it.” He took off down the path, circling the John Lennon memorial and wishing there was more lighting than the buildings across the street, their glow broken by the nearly-naked branches of the autumn trees.
“You never talk much about however you two crossed paths. What’s the long version?”
John slowed his step, unsure how ready he was to talk about Licia like this, but he’d held back from Emerson long enough. He walked next to Em instead of ahead of him. “I've known Licia since she was nineteen. We met in a hospital where I was on a bullshit PR tour and she was just trying to help some kids cheer up. We developed this frenemies thing. She figured out what I was before I had any idea about her empathic abnormality. She wasn’t the first I’d met, but I had no idea someone like her could exist.
“When I got into some trouble, she helped get me out of it. It made us both aware of how sensitive our situations were. I started the Anons to keep our kind informed and safe, while she decided to help in a different way.” A far less legal way, though he didn’t see any reason to tell Emerson that. They moved through a narrow section of the path, brushing shoulders as they branched off towards The Lake. He tried not to react to the touch. “She's the most powerful of us I've ever met.”
“Doesn’t empath mean she feels others’ emotions? I'd think your arousal is more powerful than that.”
John half grinned in that you're-precious way, which made Emerson's mouth flatten in annoyance. “Oh, she does more than feel emotions. She can change them. Just let me try and reach her. We'll figure out the rest later.”
“Reach her?”
John wiggled his eyebrows. He mentally reached for his sensual center, where his vibe settled at the base of his abdomen. The park was mostly deserted, save two joggers who passed by and a woman walking her corgi, so as long as Licia was within range his vibe wouldn't be diluted. He stepped off the path. The park smelled damp, like the precursor to rain. Licia was part shadow and part sin. She could hone in on desperate people like a bloodhound—and he certainly felt desperate right now.
“Are you sure that's a good idea?” Emerson came to his side but didn't touch him, which was wise since he wanted to spread his vibe, not feed it into one place. John shrugged and released the cork. His effervescence vibe flowed free. He'd given some to Emerson earlier, but he had plenty left for this.
“This is the closest I have to a calling card. If she
's nearby she'll recognize it.”
“I barely feel you. I don't think she'll notice.”
John shook his head. “She's tuned in to me.” Emerson made an unpleasant expression between skeptical and judgmental. John pushed his vibe harder, scooping it out and sending it like a message. A coil of familiar influence brushed at John's emotions in return. He grinned.
Her power slithered and searched, testing and tasting his emotions like a snake might smell the air. Emerson jerked into his ready stance, sensing something more than the two of them nearby. Licia's tendrils of power weren’t something to fear, but if they wrapped around his chest like a boa constrictor, then it would be time to be concerned.
“That's enough.” Licia's soft voice was full of darkness creeping over his skin. It gave him a rush, but when he glanced at Emerson, it seemed to give him the creeps. Emerson shoved John behind him, giving him a start of adrenaline. Still a great bodyguard, but he was out of his league on this one. He spun, looking for the source of the voice. Movement caught John’s eye and he nudged Emerson to face a narrow trail between two scraggly bushes.
“What's going on?” Licia appeared from the dark like a living shadow and strolled towards them, distinguishable only by her ghostly skin and light hair against the pale reflected lights from the city and the inky black of the lake beyond. Her coiling power began to circle his heart, creating an inflated sense of anxiety.
“Let up,” John said.
Licia tilted her head and closed her eyes, reading them without her primary senses.
Emerson cringed back but held his stance.
“Licia, I'm serious. Stop it.”
The emotional coil holding him up seemed to tighten around his heart, squeezing until all he could feel was the pain and loss of his youth. The betrayal and abandonment that shaped him, and the guilt. He'd made sure people pushed him away.
“What are you doing to him?” Emerson's voice sounded hollow.
“Reminding him not to summon me like that.”
John fell to his knees. “I get it. Now stop before you piss me off.” The pressure snapped free, leaving an all too real dose of adrenaline behind. She was such a touchy ass sometimes. Emerson bounced a little, like a weight had been yanked off his back and he looked... well John had never seen him look freaked out before. John stretched his neck side to side and watched Licia. “We need to talk.”
“Fine, but don't call me like your pet. I'm not here to play moderator for your lover's spat, and I don't need a chaperone to explore the city. We're going to take care of UHP for good this time and then I'm getting back to my life.” Her power roiled, brushing against him.
“This time?” Emerson asked, but Licia ignored him.
“You two can either help me”—her eyes crystallized with menace—”or help me.”
Some choices. “It's not my fault you don't have a freaking phone. If you don't want me to call you this way, then make sure I have another option.” He was almost yelling and wondered if he was more affected by her influence than he thought. It took most of his concentration to stay levelheaded, but the sooner they dealt with UHP, the sooner things could get back to normal. “The patient is a teenager. So instead of wasting time, let's go back to the condo and figure out how to get her out of there.”
“What?” She paled. Her eyes seemed to sink further into the shadows, and she fisted her hands at her sides.
Her coils snapped back leaving John with a sense of relief. It didn't mean he was out of her grasp, but he could at least breathe for a moment. It was hard to make out her expression in the shifting shadows, but he knew a child would trigger her protective instinct. For a woman who hated and mistrusted people, she did everything she could for the young. She collected misfit youths and gave them shelter, skills, and a sense of belonging, except she did it by running a gang selling illegal substances. Her tea shop was only a front, but she claimed the teens drawn to her needed a safe place to do what they were going to do anyway. Her rationalization didn’t make sense to him, but he knew she was protective of her charges and believed in what she was doing.
He wondered what Emerson thought of their exchange, but it felt more important to keep Licia focused than keep Emerson from jumping to conclusions.
“I don't know much, but they're—”
Licia held up her hand to silence him, her head jerking to the side like she was listening for something.
She swore a second before a man burst from a cluster of bushes, grabbing Licia and holding a knife to her throat. John and Emerson jerked half a step towards her, but Licia caught John's eye and stilled him with a glare so cold he felt ice fill his stomach.
“Give me your wallet, jewelry, phones, all of it.” The man had sharp dark eyes and clunky features. John raised his arms to the air, taking note of the man's clean navy sweater and pristine sweats. He blended in with the other joggers they'd seen tonight. They might even have passed him earlier. Emerson took a step. The man tightened his grip. “Come any closer and I'll kill her.”
“Here.” John jerked his wallet from his pants, then tossed it and his phone towards him on the grass. Licia's nostrils flared as the guy squeezed her close. She squeaked as his arm compressed her ribs, then she clenched her teeth and glared. He felt no fear uncoiling from her. She must have clamped down on her emotions to keep from influencing them.
“John get behind me. I'll get her free.” Emerson's lips barely moved as he whispered. He pulled his phone free from his coat. John started to tell him no, but the mugger cut in.
“You too, fat-ass,” the man's hand wandered while he spoke, gripping Licia just under her breast. John could practically hear her muscles tensing. External emotions flickered against John like a sputtering light, leaving quick impressions of hesitation and concern. What was she waiting for?
“Do as he says.” John couldn't let Emerson act, not if her oscillating emotions didn't stabilize.
His brow furrowed, then he just looked angry. John had been hoping for calm, but angry would have to do.
Something rustled in the bushes. The attacker's attention snapped to it, leaving a space between the knife and Licia's neck. Emerson lunged into action.
John threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around Emerson's shoulders, tackling him. Emerson stumbled under the extra weight but didn't fall. The tussle, however, gave the mugger time to yank Licia closer. John watched the knife dig into her skin.
“What are you doing?” Emerson practically growled at him.
“Don't. She's—”
“Enough.” Licia gripped her captor's wrist. John felt the unfurling of her serpent-like reach spread with a cool rage.
Then Licia froze. Her whole body went rigid like a carved statue. Her cloudy eyes glazed over and her skin paled, making her freckles stand out like an inverse of the starry night sky.
“Come on, baby. I like a little fight,” the mugger said, grinning at Emerson and John. He then licked Licia's cheek. She stood perfectly still, not even flinching at his tongue lapped against her.
John released his hold on Emerson, waiting for Licia to move.
Move. Move! Something was wrong.
CHAPTER 14
Licia
Licia could feel the man's pulse pounding with excitement. His desperation was like a cheese grater on her skin and tasted like unwashed socks. She intended to put him down easy so she didn't freak John and Emerson out—or at least Emerson. John knew enough to keep Emerson back, so he was fine. And smart.
That's when something cold and heavy draped over her like a wet quilt, stopping her movement. The world around her seemed to flatten. Her body wouldn't react as the pressure built. The attacker's emotions, as well as John's and Emerson's, lessened, pressed like a pansy between pages in a book until she couldn't feel them at all. Instead new emotions filtered through her: fear, desperation, and hopelessness.
She lost sight of the park. She knew her eyes were still open, but new images flashed in her brain, begging for her attenti
on.
John stood beside her in a clinic waiting room. This was familiar. He looked thinner, his hair longer and mussed, an angry red welt on his face. She remembered this. Licia looked out across the pale clinic nestled into the heart of the Worldwide Humanitarian Relief Program building in L.A. John's wife filled the space like no woman of such a small size had any right to do. The bitch owned them, owned the building, and owned the teenage girl she'd been experimenting on.
John patted his face, checking for blood. When his hand came away clean, he straightened his shoulders and faced Aubrey. His wife adjusted her glasses, undisturbed by the show of her own brutality. Licia hadn't had the pleasure of meeting her before, but the cold, stale feel of the woman's emotions felt wrong. Licia's empathy slithered over Aubrey, wriggling deeper to find the core of her. No sorrow, no guilt. Just a pit of calm confidence. Nothing had ever scared Licia like that feel of nothing.
“I think I should have added 'till abuse do us part' in our vows.” John rubbed his cheek again.
“You knew what this was.” Aubrey smoothed down her long coat. Licia caught the taste of rotting meat, so the woman wasn't broken, just... different.
“I thought this was about helping people.” John inched closer to Aubrey, using his height to tower over her in a way he never did to Licia.
“We are helping people. She can miraculously heal disease. She has natural antibodies for every virus and bacteria we've tested on her. The speed at which her body adapts to biological threats could mean the cure to every pandemic we've yet to face.”
“She's a child.” Tendons stood out in sharp relief along John's neck. Licia sent out a lick of calm. She couldn't risk him losing himself, not here.
“And if you have a problem with that you can talk to her parents, who, as you know, are in full support of our treatment plan.”
“Because you're lying to them. Shut it down or I go to the police.”
Aubrey laughed, but her amusement didn't bubble and taste sweet like most people's. “You won't. Not unless you're ready to give up being John Beechum and show the world what you started as Jayden. You expose her, and you expose what you've done.”