Gilded Lies

by Lin Lustig

  “He implied an out of town guest was causing some tension.”

  He wished he could tell her everything. “He loves her.”

  “That's it?” She was braiding her hair now and wrapping it in an elaborate bun.

  Emerson scoffed and gave her a sidelong glance. “It's enough.” And it wasn't all, but he couldn't exactly spill that Licia was a murderer when Prisha had no idea what was really going on.

  Prisha grabbed a few hair pins and stuck several between her teeth but kept talking. “You two are dealing with some shit both inside and outside of your relationship, but I think you're better off together. If you still love John at all then you must tell him what you want—all of it. No one is a mind reader and you’re especially bad at advocating for yourself.” She wrestled a pin free and used it to scratch her collarbone, then went back to attacking the mass of hair on her head. “My choices go against my upbringing and the values my parents tried to saddle me with. But fuck that. I chose who I am today. I fight for who I get to be tomorrow. So do you.”

  Emerson blinked. The barrage of her words and the passion behind them was so unexpected he wasn't sure how to respond. “I don't think I realized how much you cared.”

  She stopped and picked up the phone so her face filled the screen. She'd already put on foundation but had yet to add the severe black to her eyes or the extra color to her brows. He liked seeing behind her mask. “You two are family. Even if you stay separated, you'll always be one of my boys. Okay?”

  “I'm not giving up. Not exactly.” Emerson didn't realize it was true until he said it. Even after everything, John was still an addiction.

  “That's all I wanted to hear. Call me anytime.”

  “Thanks for the pep talk.”

  “I live to annoy.” She blew him a kiss and ended the call.

  The kitchen was a bustle of noise, drawing Emerson out for breakfast. John was talking animatedly to Chloe, John’s assistant, while Licia poured cereal. He hadn't stayed up to make sure Licia had returned, but he was relieved they wouldn't have to chase her down again.

  “Em, come here, we're celebrating!” John's voice was lighter than Emerson had heard it in a few days.

  “What's going on?” The excess energy of John's excitement tempted the hollow pit inside him, twisting his guts, but he held back. He’d call Dr. Wallace as soon as he figured out what John’s excitement was about.

  “I got a callback for the action flick with Jordan Eshield. It might shift my image to sexy villain.” John gave him a broad grin, one that Emerson missed. John turned to Chloe, “Do I get the day off?”

  Chloe wore horn-rimmed glasses with red lipstick and dressed in clothing typically found in the men’s department. She raised an eyebrow. “No. Consider it payback for being photographed in an orgy last time. You skipped your performance on Sunday. Don’t even think about missing another. Tomorrow you start up with a new personal trainer and nutritionist in case you get the role.”

  John saluted. Chloe rolled her eyes, sneaking a hint of a smile, then handed John a bundle of papers and waved at Emerson before excusing herself into the elevator. As soon as the doors slid closed, John rushed around the kitchen island, hitting the hard bamboo in his socks and sliding to a stop.

  “I've got a real chance at this!”

  Licia winced away from his excitement like she's been slapped and smacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

  “This is for the role in the next Jordan Eshield action flick, right? The new bad guy.” Emerson helped himself to a glass of orange juice.

  “That's it. It could completely revive my career.”

  Emerson scrolled through his doctor's online scheduling while John rambled to Licia about his hopes to be one of those villains everyone loved to hate—a new bad boy image. Emerson snagged a walk-in appointment in an hour, then interrupted the fun. “I'm heading out. Should I pick up anything on my way back?”

  “Anything alcoholic.” John grinned and Emerson returned a smile with half the strength. It made John pause. “Thanks,” he said and offered his hand.

  Emerson considered it, the offer, the promise, the feast. He held John's fingers for a breath, taking what was given to keep the hollow from consuming him whole. With a squeeze, he let go and left for his appointment.

  CHAPTER 26

  John

  This could reboot his entire career as a sexy villain with dangerous appeal. It was exactly what he needed now that he wasn't fit to play a young heart throb anymore.

  Licia slid him a fork and a plate of rubbery eggs. It unsettled him to see her playing house.

  “I've been thinking. If UHP wants Jammers for mass production, then they must think we pose a threat,” she said. John gave her a curious look. She avoided his gaze and wiped down the counter. “Which means we have something they want.”

  John swallowed his bite of eggs, mulling over the idea. “They were so hard on Azami because she could cure cancer. This new patient can project memories at long distance, but we don't know much else.”

  “What if they're trying to distill long distance recall down into something marketable or even weaponizable?” Licia stopped cleaning and leaned on the counter, her pale eyes finally finding his.

  “You think they want to turn us into weapons?”

  Licia shrugged. “Any great discovery ends up there sooner or later.”

  John stroked his chin, thinking back over the Anons. “Most memory related abilities are things like photographic recall or remembering every day of their life.”

  “Don't Normies have that too?” Licia asked.

  “Unless they're not as normal as they thought.” John shrugged. Aubrey's research had often posited that lower-level human abilities could still be classified as Abnormal. Back then they didn't think of it in hard terms of us and them, at least not until Azami. “I've been charting the abilities mentioned on the Anons. Hold on.”

  The desk was a mess, but he found the old tattered leather-bound notebook and brought it back to the kitchen island.

  “You've kept your notes in a ratty old book?”

  “Oh, you mean this collectible vintage journal? Why yes. Thank you for noticing.” John rolled his eyes and flipped open to the map of arrows and circles that indicated where abilities belonged. He hadn’t shown this to Emerson. It seemed silly when he was making it. The electronic chart was more thorough for listing out the abilities, but this made more sense to John. The circles each represented a major part of the body, but nothing worked completely independent of other bodily systems. This left room for overlap.

  “You followed through with Aubrey's hormone connection.” Licia traced the Venn diagram with hormones listed in the center.

  “There are about thirty abilities described on the Anons once I subtract the absurd ones like flying and teleporting. Calendar savant, super tasters, being able to thrive without sleep, pain control, muscle growth manipulation, always orienting north, then there's the strange ones like advanced selective hearing, controlling hair growth, switching off parts of the brain on command, you get the idea.” John waved at the rest of the list.

  “Electrical current.”

  “I’m not sure about that one. One of the Anons detailed it, claimed to have lost their friend with it to UHP a few years ago. Anyway, these here are all affected by the muscular or skeletal systems. This one. Soul reading? And motivation manipulation would probably fall under an emotional umbrella with yours, but there's nothing anywhere that fits with projecting memories into someone's head from two-hundred miles away. If that new patient doesn't fit with any of this, then what is she?”

  “Something new.” Licia ran her thumb over her bottom lip. “And something dangerous. What else did you get from before WHRP fell?”

  “I never had access to the full studies. Only a couple summaries.”

  “I'd like to look over the Anons, too. Can I use your computer?”

  “Sure, password is sex machine with two exclamation points.” />
  “Come on, seriously?”

  “No. It's angel food cake with zeros instead of o's,” he said. Licia gave him incredulous look. He shrugged. “It's my favorite.”

  The intercom buzzed with a package pick up. The part-time attendant offered to bring it up in a bit, but John didn’t want to wait. He took the elevator down to the lobby and picked up the new script for the callback audition. He'd be reading lines with a few others to test on screen chemistry. Happily, he excelled at chemistry.

  He was about to step back into the elevator when his phone rang, so he stepped aside, nodding at one of his neighbors who got in, and answered.

  “Hey, I'm on a train heading to you,” Glen said.

  “What? No. Stay in D.C. I know that you want to see Licia, but we need you there—”

  “It's not about her. Or at least not any more than this is about any of you. There's a surprise press release happening, and we need to talk before it goes live.”

  “Wait, what kind of surprise press release?”

  “A this-didn't-exist-an-hour-ago kind. We'll talk about it in person. I should be there by one.”

  John didn't bother asking how he knew his address and resigned to Glen's impending arrival. UHP made periodic press releases that were in line with their humanitarian efforts, but Glen never gave a heads up about those. It had to be because of the patient, but they needed more time to understand how to get inside whichever main office she was being held in.

  When he and Licia had freed Azami from WHRP, they had Aubrey arrested and later convicted for her malpractice, but her research carried over when UHP bought up the dregs. Experimentation had continued, but not like before. Finding Abnormals was nearly impossible—he would know, since he'd been trying to find them through the Anons for years. He and Emerson had theorized there were even fewer of them who had signs of abnormal abilities before The Shift, and then a spike in adult Abnormals triggered after it. Aubrey had had connections through her extended family reaching down like roots on a tree into a dozen different industries and countries. She'd found four in total, and then the fifth had slipped from her grasp when Licia had helped take her down. Licia had never made it into the records, and it was imperative she continued to stay out of UHP's sights.

  He rode the elevator up, thinking about back then and was almost surprised it didn't bring on another vision. Why did they only have visions sometimes, and why only those memories? They had to mean something. Or maybe they were a distress beacon. But right now, he had to focus on keeping Licia grounded, Emerson on board, and Glen from being a dick.

  Back in the condo, John hovered by Licia’s seat behind the laptop until she gave him an uncoiled empathetic lick of annoyance.

  “Didn't want to interrupt.”

  “Clearly you did.” She turned to face him.

  “Glen's coming.”

  “Oh.”

  He waited. “That's it?”

  Her expression stayed neutral. “I'm more surprised he didn't find an excuse to show up on my first day here.”

  John moved back to his chair and lounged. “It really doesn't bug you that he's like this?”

  “Glen was one of my first recruits back in Inglewood. He comes from an intense family, but he's harmless. Annoying, but not without potential and he's always respected my requests.”

  “Good. Then I'll keep you as a secret weapon in case he acts up,” he said. Licia raised her eyebrow at him. “The man can't stand me.”

  “He's jealous of you.”

  John sat on that idea. Glen would only be jealous of him because Licia trusted him. He could trust Licia with his life, but not with his hopes. Could she trust him with hers? John's phone rang again. Expecting Glen, he answered at the same time he registered Prisha's name on the screen.

  “I need to stop by.” She sounded breathy.

  “Actually, now’s not a good time.”

  “Won't take long. Just a drink or two.”

  John rubbed his eyes. “I really don’t have time to hang out right now.”

  “I know life is a stress mess, but I’m either going to pop another stalker’s testicle, or I’m going to shake them off and come to you.”

  “Okay, fine. Yes, but you'll have to leave by one.” That woman attracted more stalkers that he did, except his stalkers usually retained functionality.

  “You got it, ass-chaser.” She hung up.

  As if he needed one more problem right now, but it was Prisha. He couldn't say no to her any more than he could say no to Emerson.

  There had been no shortage of casual sex with women since arriving in New York, but Prisha just... fit. She satisfied something more than pleasure with him and he had developed a weak spot towards her. She was also unflappable. Hopefully, she wasn't looking for an emergency lay while she stopped by because now really wasn't the time for that. At least not at his place. They could go to hers... his mind wandered.

  “You're leaking again.”

  John checked his mouth, but he wasn't drooling. He'd had the absurd idea that he'd fallen asleep and was dribbling—he was only human—but now felt even more ridiculous since he knew he was wide awake. Licia tried to hide a smile, but one of those I'm-trying-not-to-laugh-at-you smiles. Damn empaths.

  He reined in his vibe. “You're going to meet a friend of mine.”

  “Pass. I didn't see anything else of note on the Anons, so I'm going to check in with my real estate guy.”

  John pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your abandoning me with Glen on the way?”

  “Yep. Don't wait up.” She helped herself to his condo key and disappeared into the elevator.

  Great. He was going to be partially responsible for a new drug ring in Manhattan.

  He and Prisha made arrangements months ago to have each other as green-light guests. She was allowed up to his place even if he wasn't in, and vise versa, so when he heard the elevator hum to life, he got out two martini glasses and the gin. By the time the doors whooshed open, he was standing in the foyer's entry with a chilled glass in each hand.

  “Hello beautiful,” Prisha strolled through the door and pushed her braid over her shoulder.

  “Hello yourself,” John grinned up at her.

  “I was talking to the drinks.”

  “That's fair, I was talking to your tits.” He handed her a drink and she clinked it against his. “So, another stalker?”

  She sipped and strolled past him with so little bounce in her step that her drink didn't sway at all.

  John continued. “You should have called Emerson. Are you safe?”

  She raised an immaculately groomed eyebrow. “You know I could take them. I just didn't want to lead them home... or pay out on medical bills. Plus I didn’t want to scuff my heels.” She slid her leg closer to him so her red pumps were fully visible. “They’re Atwoods.”

  He rolled his eyes and joined her in the living room. “So glad you brought them here instead.” So much sarcasm. “Em will be home soon, he’ll shoo the stalker off.”

  “Speaking of Emerson.” Prisha took another drink with an expectant look, then sank onto the couch like a high viscosity liquid flowing over a dish.

  He plopped down with her, barely keeping his drink from spilling over, and drank it down a bit. “Beyond repair.”

  “Nonsense. He loves you.”

  “And I love him, but that's not always enough.” There was no reality where Emerson could forgive John's strange connection with Licia and the shit he did with her in the past. It was his fault UHP even knew about their kind, and now it would be his fault if they were used as weapons. He hoped Licia wasn't right about that, but it was exactly how she used her ability. Others would want the same. “I'm not good enough for him,” John admitted.

  “Then be someone better. That's what good relationships do. They don't demand you change; they make you want to be your best self.”

  John didn't argue. She was right, but until the visions stopped and his past was truly dead, he couldn't afford the he
artache of hope.

  CHAPTER 27

  Licia

  After a quick visit, Cash gave Licia an address to check out near Columbia University. It was north of Central Park, so too far to walk, but only thirty minutes from John if she needed to check in on him.

  She marched down Columbus Avenue and kept her walls at half-mast to encourage fellow pedestrians to keep their distance. Sometimes having an armor of intimidation was better than actual armor. She cut over to Amsterdam Avenue according to her burner phone's map and continued past a gothic church to a set of uniform buildings accented with brick and tan stone. Bars covered the windows on the base level and clusters of college-age bystanders stared at their phones with bags slung across their backs. With a small adjustment to her wards she tasted their salty anxiety and that strange savory happiness that she associated with good ramen broth. Part of her settled and soaked in the intensity of their emotions, their familiar mood swings and range almost like a salve.

  She mingled with the students, taking a pedestrian walkway through a narrow hall of trees between two of the buildings and exited on Broadway. The streets all looked the same if she was being honest, and she kept her head down as she circled the block looking for the sunken store front that could be the next spot of tea.

  She passed it twice before noticing, then rejoiced at the hidden gem. There was nothing to draw attention to it, or make it seem welcoming. She'd need to see the inside, but the location was perfect. She could work with whatever oddball layout it was bound to have. She had to make sure it was worth the extraordinary rent and followed a new path back towards the college. The biting air smelled like icy snow mixed with oil and exhaust. It nipped at her nose and she pulled the strings on her hoodie tighter around her ears.

  Deep inside her was a nest of snakes always threatening to strike out behind her walls, but the closer she came to the campus, the more she felt soothed. There was something innately comforting about this place, and it was drawing her in like a stray dog to a scrap of food. Whether for good or bad, she wanted to stay close, but she couldn't silence the part of her that distrusted anything enticing. She released one of the tendrils of her emotions, laying on a mask of disinterest to anyone who came close. She was as good as invisible as she crossed a field and joined a huddle of students stepping inside a building with stone columns like an entry gate to a Greek play.