by Elana Brooks
“That, and much else. Your strong reaction to Adrian’s basic induction indicates you possess very great potential.”
The thought was almost unbearably tempting. She fought to contain her excitement. “That stuff’s dangerous, though, right? Adrian said I would have died, if not for—” She shivered and yanked her thoughts away from those awful moments.
“Of course. Power is always dangerous. But our training methods have been developed over many lifetimes to produce maximum results with minimal risks.”
Maybe this was the stupidest thing she’d ever done, but— “All right, I’m interested. Tell me what it would involve if I agree to join you.”
Adrian’s smile flashed bright in his dark face. Keiko patted Beverly’s hand. Rabbi Sensei nodded gravely. “HBQ would hire you. Your official title would be Management Trainee. We can offer a generous benefits package. Would triple your current salary be sufficient?”
Beverly’s head swam. “Um… yeah. That would be great.”
“HBQ’s headquarters are currently located in Manhattan. You’d need to relocate there—we’d cover your moving expenses. I understand your cost of living will increase dramatically, so I’m willing to adjust your salary once you evaluate what your new expenses will be. We wish you to be able to live comfortably, without financial worries, so you’re free to focus all your attention on your training.”
“I can deal with that.” She tilted her head, puzzled. “How can you afford to make such an open-ended offer?”
“Long term investments can be very lucrative, and HBQ has been learning how to manage our assets for thousands of years. In addition, we have from time to time been blessed by members with precognitive gifts who’ve helped guide our business ventures in profitable directions.”
“That would explain it.” Maybe they’d let her take a peek at their books sometime—they’d be fascinating. “What else—vacation, health insurance, retirement?”
“All very competitive. You’re a prize recruit—we wouldn’t want anyone hiring you away from us.” His manner was so earnest she couldn’t be sure, but she thought he was gently teasing her.
It was just like her to worry about such mundane matters when he was offering to teach her skills that, if they weren’t actually magic, sure looked like it. But she wasn’t going to apologize. Her life had taught her to look after her own interests and to never trust anyone blindly, or too far. “I want it all in writing, and I need time to thoroughly review it before I make a commitment.”
“I’ll have it for you in the morning. The sooner you can get started, the better. We understand the need for you to give notice at your current employment, of course. We wouldn’t ask you to deal with them in anything but an ethical fashion. But if it’s possible for you to negotiate a quick departure, that would be ideal.”
“I’ll tell them tomorr—I mean, as soon as I review your offer and make a decision.” God, the thought of never having to spend another day in that ugly little cubicle running endless columns of banal numbers and listening to catty gossip was almost as liberating as flying had been.
“Good.” Rabbi Sensei rose. “Now that’s settled, why don’t you take us up on the dinner invitation? I saw a place on my way from the airport that looked inviting.”
“Okay. I just need a few minutes to change.” Beverly brushed self-consciously at her baggy t-shirt.
“We’ll wait outside,” Keiko cut in, with a meaningful look at the men. “Take as long as you need.”
Beverly ushered them out, then rushed to her bedroom and rifled through her closet for some slacks and a nice blouse. She tried not to think too hard. All her brain seemed capable of was alternating between “Oh my god, what the hell have I done?” and “It’s real, it’s all real, I can fly!”
It didn’t matter, though. For better or worse she’d made her choice. If she was wrong, if this was all a con and they ended up stealing her money and ruining her life—well, she didn’t have much of a life to ruin. She had nothing she valued so much she wouldn’t risk it for the chance of winning such a remarkable prize. Even if the odds were a million to one against her.
Chapter 4
Rabbi Sensei, probably guided by Keiko’s unfailing instinct, had chosen what must be one of the finest restaurants in Cleveland. Adrian sat back, delightfully stuffed, and listened as the two of them continued their subtle but determined campaign to draw Beverly out. So far it had met little success. She conversed easily enough, but only on a shallow level. Whether the topic was popular entertainment or current events or the weather, she expressed only the mildest, most non-controversial opinions. Usually she agreed with whatever the rest of them said. That hard shell of hers was in full force, turning aside any attempt to reach the real Beverly.
He wondered what she’d been through, to need such tough armor.
There was something odd about the way she ate. Not a lot—she turned down an appetizer and ordered a delicious-looking but light grilled fish entrée—and not fast, but almost desperately. Like the food was all that stood between herself and some sort of disaster. Starvation? Emotional collapse? Or just an inadvertent revelation of some tiny detail that could be used against her? Any time one of them asked her a question she’d take a bite, then take a long time chewing before she swallowed and answered.
It was only nine when Rabbi Sensei put his napkin aside. “Our flight leaves early in the morning, my dear,” he said to Keiko. “We should let these young people enjoy the evening while we get some sleep.”
She twinkled at him. “Are you sure sleep is what’s on your mind?”
He tutted at her. “Now, dear, don’t embarrass them. We’re much too old to be thinking of such things.”
“Maybe you are. Although that’s not the impression you gave last night.” She shot him a smoldering look.
As often as he’d witnessed this sort of banter between them, Adrian’s cheeks still got hot. He was glad when Rabbi Sensei turned to him. “You two stay as long as you like. Get some dessert. Put everything on the company credit card.” He lowered his voice. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I have a new assignment for you.”
Adrian swallowed. He’d be more than happy to pass on responsibility for the yoga screenings to someone else. But he was pretty sure he knew what Rabbi Sensei would ask of him, and the thought both excited him and filled him with dread.
He was probably setting the stage for Adrian to get started tonight.
Beverly bid them both goodnight with barely concealed relief. When they were gone, she turned to Adrian. “Actually, I’m not in the mood for dessert. And I need to show up to work on time tomorrow, even though—you know. So thanks for everything. I guess I’ll probably see you again sometime, since we’ll be working for the same company.”
“Are you sure?” Adrian would be as relieved as Beverly to escape time alone together, but he knew Rabbi Sensei expected him to make the most of this opportunity. He indicated the table next to them, where a couple were both digging into an elaborate confection. “That sundae looks amazing. I see brownies, hot fudge, whipped cream… But it’s too much for one person. Share one with me?”
She wavered. “I shouldn’t…”
He beckoned their server over. “Besides, Rabbi Sensei would never forgive me if I let you pay for your own cab home.”
“I can take the bus. That’s what I always do. I’m saving up to buy a car, but it’ll be a while.”
“This late? I know he wouldn’t hear of it. Come on, save me a scolding—and a reprimand in my file. I’ve got enough of those already.” He gave her his best winning smile.
She laughed. “All right. But just so you won’t get fired.” She shook her head. “I don’t suppose expertise in teaching yoga and astral projection is a very marketable skill set.”
He ordered the sundae and turned back to her. “Well, I do have a political science degree from Columbia, so I’d probably revert to my original plan and attend law school. I’d have to get in a lot worse trouble tha
n that to get fired, though. HBQ’s in full-fledged expansion mode; they’re not going to let anyone go if they can help it.”
“Yeah, right. The aliens are coming.”
He couldn’t blame her for still being skeptical. Changing your entire world view was hard; it had taken him much longer than a single evening.
Probably the best he could hope for tonight was to establish the beginning of some sort of rapport between them. Then if Rabbi Sensei assigned him to work with her, as he suspected was the old man’s plan, they’d have a better foundation to build on than the crazy events of yesterday.
She sat back, eyeing him warily. The common wisdom for drawing someone into conversation was to ask them about their work or hobbies or interests, on the theory that most people loved to talk about themselves. But that wasn’t going to work with Beverly. He doubted he’d have any luck getting her to open up on any subject even as personal as her taste in TV shows. So his best strategy would probably be to tell her about himself, in hopes that eventually she’d loosen up enough to reciprocate. He was comfortable sharing his background. It didn’t contain much in the way of deep, dark secrets, as hers apparently did.
“Yup. It’s too bad, in a way. My father’s never quite gotten over the fact that I went to work for some obscure little company instead of following him into law. I think he hoped I’d go into politics eventually. It’s especially bad since HBQ gave me this assignment. Before that, I was a member of the long-range strategy group. Even though he didn’t know the truth of what it entailed, it sounded impressive enough to placate him. But since I started running the screenings last year, he’s been unhappy. Every time I call home he badgers me about when I intend to get a job that’s not a waste of an expensive education.”
She didn’t show it much, but he thought she was interested from the way her eyes stayed fixed on him even after he stopped speaking. After a moment she said, “That is too bad.”
He shrugged. “It’s a race thing, too, of course. As the son of a wealthy, prominent black family, it’s my duty to pursue a career that will be a credit to the African-American community.” He chuckled. “You know, as elated as everyone was when Obama was elected, I think Dad was a tiny bit disappointed I’d lost my chance to be the first African-American president.”
Boy, she was tough. Barely a smile. Maybe bringing up the topic of race had been a bad idea, but it’s not like he could hide who he was even if he’d wanted to. And he’d found it it usually worked better to name the elephant in the room than to ignore it.
Returning to seriousness, he said, “I get where he’s coming from, and I don’t disagree, but it can get pretty narrow-minded sometimes. I’ve actually got it relatively easy. One of my cousins is a wizard with cars; he’s been elbow-deep in engines since he was a kid, but when he told his parents he wanted to make it a career, not just a hobby, they practically exploded. He compromised, and now he works for GM in their design department, but I think he would’ve been happier getting his hands dirty as an ordinary mechanic.”
Her voice carried a trace of bitterness. “Not the worst problem to have, all things considered.”
“No, I’m well aware of that. I know I’ve been very lucky compared to most people, especially most other black people. But I have to admit, I get a vindictive little thrill every time I think about what’s going to happen when the alien ship arrives, and HBQ publicly reveals our mission, and Dad finds out I’ve been involved in something hugely important all along.”
Okay, maybe it was a little uncomfortable revealing so much of his heart, when she responded with nothing more than a nod and an unreadable expression.
Maybe he could ask about her family now? No, considering all those “N/A’s” on her form, that would probably be a bad idea. But perhaps she’d be willing to talk about something she was proud of. “I saw on your registration form that you have an accounting degree from Cleveland State University. You must be good with numbers. That’s always been my weak area.”
Her eyes drifted to the side. “That’s what calculators and computers are for. I’m sure none of it would have given you any trouble.”
Thank goodness the sundae arrived just then. The time it took to get it settled in front of them and enjoy the first few bites gave him time to think. Beverly ate mechanically. She must be enjoying it, because it was so delicious he couldn’t imagine anyone not, but you couldn’t tell from her face.
He wasn’t getting anywhere this way. He’d have to get pushier. He pointed his spoon at her. “Did you pick that major because you liked it, or because you thought it would give you good job prospects?”
She wasn’t quite rude enough to refuse to answer a direct question. “For a job, definitely. I was sick of working for minimum wage. And I had to take out a bunch of student loans. I needed something that would pay well right out of school.”
She left it hanging there. It really would be nosy to pry deeper, so he kept his voice easy. “That seems to have worked out well for you.”
“Yeah.” She gave a little huffing laugh. “Although it looks like maybe I should have saved my time and money. I could have gone to work for a psychic hotline or gotten a magic show in Vegas.”
“You’d think that’s where people with psychic gifts would end up, wouldn’t you? But HBQ hasn’t had much luck recruiting in those sorts of places. People who succeed in them tend to have minor talents, if any. Most people with strong gifts like yours get burned so early in childhood they bury them deep. A few professions bring them out—we’ve had good luck among really dedicated clergy, and a lot of psychologists are pretty sensitive. High-ranking martial artists have a big proportion of talented people. That’s how they found me—I’ve been winning karate competitions since grade school. But you’re actually pretty typical in seeking a career grounded in hard reality. One or two bad experiences early on tend to make people shut down that side of their brain and swing really hard in the opposite direction.”
Did her eyes widen just a bit, there? He wished his passive telepathic receptivity was stronger, or that it wasn’t completely unethical to use the active form without her permission. All he could pick up was a spike in her already elevated tension. It grated uncomfortably in what felt like his inner ear. Out loud all she said was, “Hmm.”
He went on, a little desperately. “Yeah. You know how the politicians who yell the loudest about how homosexuality is evil always turn out to be gay? It’s like that. One of the Eight actually did research aimed at disproving the existence of psychic abilities before he was discovered. Very successfully, too. Turns out he was subconsciously blocking his subjects. He was so strong any lesser talent never had a chance. It took a member of the Eight to break through his barriers and show him the truth.”
“The Eight?” She cocked her head and regarded him curiously.
Damn, he shouldn’t have given her an opening to change the subject. But it’s not like he’d been getting anywhere with the whole personal revelations gambit. “The leaders of the Covenant. The original eight people who defeated the aliens each passed their knowledge to a chosen successor, who passed it to their successor, down through the generations. Early on they scattered around the globe, so if disaster wiped out one line the others would have a chance of continuing. It’s happened—one of the Eight died in the Black Plague, along with the successor she was preparing. A couple were killed during World War Two before they could pass on their legacy. But the others always searched out enough new talent to fill in the gaps and restore the full number.”
“Wait a minute—what’s the Covenant? I thought your organization was called HBQ. What’s that stand for, anyway?”
Adrian hesitated. “I should wait and let you learn about it from the formal lessons. But I guess it won’t hurt to tell you a little now. HBQ stands for Ha Beriyt Qeshet. It’s ancient Hebrew; it means ‘The Covenant of the Rainbow.’ Informally we use HBQ to refer to the whole company, which includes a lot of people who aren’t psychic and just work for us
. ‘The Covenant’ means those of us with psychic abilities who’ve committed ourselves to our mission.”
“Okay. I can understand that.” She chased the last bit of melted ice cream and fudge syrup around the bottom of the bowl with her spoon. “Although—rainbow?”
“Now that really will have to wait. It will all make sense eventually, I promise.” She’d ended up eating almost half of the sundae after all. He surrendered the bowl to her and watched as she meticulously cleaned out every drop her spoon could scrape up. He hadn’t gotten very far with her, not taken even a tiny chip out of her armor, but at least they’d talked, and she’d done more than reply with grunts and monosyllables. That would have to be enough for now. “Unless you want something else, I’ll settle the check, and then I can take you home.”
“I’m good.” She put the bowl down and sat silently watchful. Adrian busied himself getting the check from their server and pulling out his HBQ credit card.
As the server carried it off, Beverly abruptly spoke. “About yesterday. I really did think I was dreaming.”
“It’s not surprising. Things that happen in the astral plane tend to feel kind of surreal, especially after you’re back in your body. Something to do with how memories get transferred from your astral mind to your physical brain. You get used to it.”
Beverly nodded. She picked up a napkin and used it to wipe a drip of melted ice cream from the dark wood of the table. Then she set it down and folded her hands in her lap. “That stuff I did—it wasn’t me. I mean, I’d never have acted that way if I knew it was real.”
Adrian turned his wallet over in his hands, fingers running along the tooled leather. “Of course.”
“I’m not—I mean, I’m fine with my body. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He flipped the wallet open and closed. “And I owe you an apology. I know what I did hurt you. I panicked—I didn’t know how else to keep you alive.”