New York_A Bridge & Sword Prequel

by JC Andrijeski

  I blinked at him.

  For a few seconds, I wasn’t sure which thing to ask about first.

  “What’s a Displacement?” I said finally.

  “A species-decimating event.” The black-haired man looked at me, frowning. “Not quite an extinction-level event, but one that wipes most of a species out, pushing them off the top of a global food chain. It is said that two have happened so far. Two Displacements for two humanoid races. According to the Myth, a third will come, and wipe out most of the current species of human.”

  I blinked at him.

  I was starting to feel really tired.

  I shook my head, fighting to think.

  “So this Dragon-god––”

  “It’s not important right now, Allie,” he said, his voice warning. “It is a myth… a story. But you asked why they did this. This is why. They want to bring the Third Displacement. They believe it will cause them to evolve into super-beings of some kind.”

  Exhaling, he combed his fingers through his dark hair. “I am more concerned they might try to use you for this again, that they might have your name on a list somewhere.”

  I swallowed. “Oh.”

  I looked up at him, tempted to ask what he was doing here for real, what his deal was with me. I wasn’t sure I was ready for the answers to those questions, though.

  “What about this Patrón stuff?” I said. “What do you think that means? They have a big boss somewhere, pulling the strings?”

  “I don’t know,” the man muttered. “But that’s what we need to find out.”

  He glanced around us, then gave me a grim look.

  “Keep an eye out, will you? I may need most of my consciousness for this. Smack me on the arm if you hear anything… if you pick up on anything at all. Don’t speak or call out. Don’t make any noise at all, if you can help it. I don’t want you drawing anyone down on us while I’m gone.”

  Puzzled, I started to ask, but he’d already looked away.

  I watched him stare down at the bound man, his eyes slightly out of focus. His pupils grew smaller while I watched, until they were bare pinpricks, almost invisible in the crystal-colored eyes. He didn’t move, but continued to hang over the bound cultist.

  That went on for a number of minutes.

  Longer, frankly, than my frayed nerves could handle.

  Remembering what he’d said, I leaned close to his ear.

  “What are you doing?” I murmured.

  He jumped violently.

  Turning his head, he frowned, seeing me so close. As I moved my head back from his, I watched his pupils go back to normal size.

  “Did you need something?” he said, still staring at me.

  He spoke in a normal voice, so I did, too.

  “Yes,” I said. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “What am I doing?” He frowned harder, his eyes holding a flicker of disbelief. “What the fuck do you think I’m doing? I’m reading him.”

  I stared at him, then down at the man tied to the log. It took another span of seconds before his words made sense to me.

  But I hadn’t heard him wrong.

  “You’re a seer?” I said, looking up. “A fucking seer?”

  The black-haired man’s gaze flattened. Staring at me in disbelief, he stripped his voice of emotion, making it utterly deadpan.

  “Are you kidding me right now?”

  I didn’t have a response for that, so I just stared at him.

  Clicking under his breath, he shook his head.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, gruff. “But we can’t talk about this here. Could you just… you know… be quiet for a few minutes? Even your thoughts are loud, and he’s dying, doped to the gills and there’s some kind of block on his light. I’ll explain after, all right? Just keep a look out for me. Grab my arm if you hear anything.”

  Falling silent, I just nodded.

  I didn’t move as he leaned over the man again.

  I couldn’t stop staring at him though, even as a lot of things fell into place behind my eyes. How he’d known about the bomb. Why he’d taken us to that sex club. Why I hadn’t heard him talking to that seer female. How he’d known seer sign language.

  Of course, he still might be SCARB. I’d heard they hired seers to track other seers. But why the hell would he be tracking me? And where was his handler?

  I found myself looking at his neck, and the complete lack of any collar around it.

  As far as I knew, all seers had to be collared in public places in the United States––even those working for the government, unless they were with a human handler and working a specific job. That wasn’t just California law––it was the whole country. Moreover, the penalties had to be stiff, given that enforcement still fell under World Court jurisdiction.

  So where the hell was his handler?

  Assuming he had one, and they worked for the Feds or SCARB, they must be using him illegally. That, or Simon himself was totally off the grid.

  If the latter were true, he would definitely be classified as a terrorist.

  I couldn’t help but put that together with why he’d cut the collar off that female seer.

  The black-haired man’s eyes clicked back into focus. Shaking his head, he frowned, staring down at the blond in frustration.

  “I can’t get through,” he muttered.

  “What do you mean you can’t get through? Why not?”

  He exhaled in frustration. “I told you why.”

  I frowned, thinking. “But why should any of that matter? He’s human, right? I thought seers could read any human. I thought you only had problems reading other seers.”

  Turning slowly, he gave me an incredulous look. “Despite human myth, we have never been able to read ‘any’ being of any race. There are many reasons why we might not be able to read a human. Further, there are seers we can read quite easily, especially if they are young, untrained, or have a lesser sight rank than we do.”

  I swallowed. “Oh.”

  Pausing at the silence this produced, I glanced at the man on the log.

  “So why can’t you read him? Because he’s been poisoned?”

  Some of the heat left the seer’s eyes.

  Exhaling, he gestured towards the man.

  “He’s dying. And someone’s been messing with his light. There are a number of blocks on it, and it feels like they were put there by more than one seer.”

  He gave me a hard look. “I can’t even get at his impressions of what happened tonight. Most of his aleimi is behind a shield. I don't want to mess with it too much or whoever’s holding the other end will likely be able to ID me. Given that I’m here with you, that wouldn’t be good for either of us. They might be able to ID you, too.”

  I didn't understand most of that, but I didn’t want to ask, so I just nodded.

  “Okay.”

  The seer stared at me, his eyes holding a sharper wariness.

  “I did feel one thing,” he said.

  Seeing the scrutiny in his eyes, I frowned. “What?”

  “He’s afraid of you.”

  “Of me?” I let out a strangled laugh. “Are you sure he’s not afraid of the guy who keeps bashing his head into a log to get him to talk?”

  “I’m sure.”

  When he continued to stare at me, I sighed. “Why? Why is he afraid of me, Simon?”

  “I was about to ask you that.”

  I exhaled in frustration. “Look, you cut me down yourself. What, exactly, do you think I could have done to him? To any of them?”

  Combing my fingers through my hair, I added, “Anyway, they thought I was some kind of magical seer. They’re probably just blaming me for whatever actually happened because it fits with their twisted seer-cult narrative.”

  Remembering that I was saying this to an actual seer, I trailed, looking up at him. It occurred to me in the same instant that I'd kissed him earlier that night.

  I’d made out with a seer. Some part of me couldn’t quite believe th
at.

  When I saw his eyes narrow on mine, I cleared my throat.

  “How is it you’re walking around the streets… like that?” I said, feeling my cheeks warm. I motioned towards his neck. “Isn’t that illegal?”

  When he only frowned, I leaned my hip against the log.

  “…I don’t think even cops are allowed to let their seers walk around un-collared. Anyway, the LAPD can’t afford their own seers, so I highly doubt the NYPD can. Are you really SCARB? Or do you work for someone else? Some company?”

  His frown deepened in my general direction.

  Before I could think of anything more to say, he caught hold of my waist, pulling my weight off the log and supporting it against him. Like last time, the motion was rote, almost perfunctory, but I found myself noticing the contact now.

  “Come on,” he said gruffly. “He’s dead. We should go.”

  My heart jackknifed.

  I looked down at the man chained to the log.

  He continued to gaze up at the stars, but his breath no longer emitted clouds into the night air. His jaw was slack, his mouth slightly ajar. His pupils were fully dilated.

  His body didn’t move.

  It struck me that he was the first person I’d been with while they died since my father.

  The thought brought a sharp pain to my chest.

  I struggled to breathe, inexplicably fighting tears.

  It might have been shock. Or maybe it was its opposite––maybe my feeling was coming back from the adrenaline and shock wearing off. Maybe my mind was finally switching back on, finally realizing my life was no longer in immediate danger.

  I was still struggling to breathe when the seer’s arm tightened around me, squeezing me against his side.

  A flush of liquid warmth hit my chest––shockingly intimate, even as it relaxed that clenched fist around my lungs and breath. My cheeks warmed as my chest loosened, as I found I could breathe again, as some deeper part of me relaxed. I leaned against the hard body and arm without thought, exhaling in what was close to a sigh.

  I looked up when I realized he’d done that.

  Whatever just happened, that definitely came from him.

  He didn’t return my gaze.

  Before I could speak, he was already steering me towards the stone arches, in the same general direction I’d seen the female seer exiting earlier. I considered trying to talk to him, asking him more about the man on the log.

  Then, after a quick glance around the clearing, I realized I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

  24

  HOUSE ON THE HILL

  I WASN’T REALLY listening when he told the robo-taxi where to go.

  I didn’t really think about our destination at all until the cab pulled up to a curb and the side doors opened.

  Without looking at me, the seer started to get out.

  I thought he was just going to leave me the cab and bid me adieu, but before I could ask, he had ahold of my hand. Clasping it tightly in his long fingers, he pulled me out of the back seat with him without speaking, and shut the door behind us.

  Still gripping my hand, he walked up to the front of the taxi and flashed his own barcode to pay. While the blue-green light ran over his skin, I couldn’t help seeing the dark “H” it illuminated on his lighter-colored inner forearm.

  Jon was right. He had a human racial-cat tattoo.

  Swallowing, I looked down at the “H” tattooed on my own skin, fingering it with my free hand before wincing at the raw skin of my wrists.

  My headset was gone.

  I’d been thinking about how expensive it would be to get a new one, assuming no one found it by the club and turned it in to the police. I’d lost one before, which meant I’d have to pay a double fine, most likely, in addition to replacement costs for the set itself.

  Given my financial situation lately, especially with this trip to New York, just thinking about it made my stomach hurt.

  I prayed Jon or Cass found it and picked it up, since they were linked users and should have been able to ping the GPS to find me. Then again, given what time it was––which was around three a.m. according to the robo-taxi’s dashboard clock––Jon was probably calling hospitals and police stations by now, if not roaming the streets looking for me.

  I wanted to call and reassure him I was alive at least, but the black-haired seer claimed he didn’t have a headset on him either, which would have been weird if it was anyone else.

  As it was, I didn't argue. I’d heard a lot of government types didn’t wear them, since they were targets for hacking in a way most civilians weren’t.

  Besides, he was seer. No matter who his owners were, he likely had his own reasons for staying off the grid.

  When the robo-taxi pulled away from the curb, he tugged on my arm to follow him.

  I did as his hand and arm asked––until something caused me to look up.

  When I saw the hotel he was leading me towards, I slowed my steps.

  My eyes scaled up the white stone edifice. It definitely wasn’t my hotel. In fact, rather than the two-star fleabag where we were staying on St. Marks, I was now standing outside probably the nicest hotel I’d ever seen.

  Looking around, I also realized where we were.

  Central Park was directly across the street.

  I once more stood on the block where I’d seen the seer get tasered that morning. I could see the exact corner of the sidewalk where it happened, less than a hundred yards behind us. Horses and carriages no longer stood there, and the kiosks were all closed but one, but it was definitely the same corner of the park.

  I vaguely remembered noticing the hotel that morning, too, not long before that female seer got tasered. In fact, I might have been staring at it when I ran into her.

  He resumed pulling me towards the entrance, where two uniform-wearing men were already stepping back to open the doors for us.

  I followed, stiff-legged, when suddenly, my brain clicked on for real.

  I came to a dead stop, releasing his hand.

  “Hey,” I said, as gently as I could. “What is this? I need to get back. My brother is probably on his second heart attack by now, assuming he hasn’t gone full-blown vigilante and started beating up random people to find out where I am.”

  I glanced at the four-story lobby I could now glimpse through the glass windows.

  “Anyway,” I said, swallowing a little. “I don't know who you think I am, but I can’t afford a room here. Not by a long shot. This place probably costs more per night than what I earn in three months from my crappy job… and I’m already broke from the plane fare here.”

  The black-haired seer stopped on the curb, right before it dipped in to form a small driveway for pick up and drop-off for valet parking. Resting his hands on his hips, he avoided my eyes, frowning as if trying to decide what to tell me––or maybe what to do with me.

  Briefly, he looked borderline flustered.

  Studying his expression, I tried to understand what the look meant.

  Clearly, he was trying to decide how to answer my question. He also looked like he was worried about something.

  I noticed again that his eyes really were the strangest color, in that they had almost no color at all. It was easy to miss until you were staring right into them. It was easy to convince yourself they were light blue or gray or even green, that they weren’t that different from any human with darkish skin and light-colored eyes.

  Other than that, he looked human.

  He looked really human, as human as me.

  That weird––something––I normally noticed in seers, I still didn’t really see on him.

  At the same time, now that I was looking for it, I saw hints of what he was. I saw it in everything from those strangely-colorless irises, to his height, to the angle of his cheekbones and the faint almond slant of his eyes. It was there, but in such small amounts, it was easy to dismiss each individual thing, to assume he was just an unusual ethnic blend of human.


  I was still studying his face when he shifted his body so that his back squarely faced the door of the hotel. It occurred to me that he’d done it to block the view the doormen had of the two of us. I stiffened, not sure I liked that very much.

  Stepping closer to me, he lowered his voice.

  “Allie.” He hesitated, meeting my gaze for the first time since I’d stopped him. “I’ll take you back to your hotel,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur. “I’ll take you back tonight. I promise. But I need to talk to you first. Alone.” Hesitating, he added, “It’s important.”

  “Why?” I said. “Why is it important?”

  He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the hotel. He looked back at me.

  “Inside, okay? Not out here.”

  I looked up the side of the building a second time.

  Watching me look, he frowned. “I’m not trying to lure you anywhere. I just thought you’d prefer to talk here. Particularly compared to where we just left.” Seeing me continue to hesitate, he took another half-step back. “I have no ill intentions. I’ll bring you back to your people right after, I promise.”

  As if reading my mind, he added,

  “…You’re already late. Another hour won’t make much difference. And we need to discuss how we’re going to spin this. What happened, I mean.”

  Thinking about that, I found myself nodding slowly.

  Yeah. I’d forgotten about that side of things.

  Dead bodies in the park. Surveillance seeing me get grabbed outside the club. An uncollared seer with what had to be unauthorized firearms.

  It hit me for the first time that I could go to jail for this.

  “You won’t go to jail, Allie,” he said quickly. “You won’t. But we need to talk.”

  “You just want to talk?” I said, still wary for some reason.

  He made an odd gesture with one hand, a symbol that made me think of “scout’s honor” when I was a kid.

  “I won’t hurt you, Allie,” he promised. “I won’t let anyone else hurt you, either. I won’t let you go to jail. But we need to be on the same page for a few things.”