by RJ Blain
“You sure can, little lady. Willamina told us about your glasses and your foot. Now, what’s this nonsense about a 17.2% aptitude rating?”
“Nobody looks at people that low. Too low but too high. It let me become a librarian with little fuss. Just ask Beatrice or my boss.”
Mr. Tawnlen shot me a look promising I’d have trouble on my hands later. “Public services have quotas, and it’s hard to find people in that rating bracket who have the right skillsets. She needed some training, but she caught on quickly. Truth be told, bringing her freshly rescued cat to the interview did more for getting her hired than her skills. Librarians are there to help, and the kind of person who takes a half-dead kitten to a job interview is someone who is naturally inclined to help others. That was the trait I hired her for. The rest is just knowledge and training, although she came to the library ahead of the curve for those with lower ratings.”
“Finally got yourself a kitten?” my mother asked, her tone amused. “You were barely able to walk the first time you saw a kitten and wanted one.”
Back then, my parents hadn’t been able to afford to have me let alone a kitten, but they’d managed. I retreated to my bedroom, scooped up my cat, and carried her out to introduce her to my parents. “This is Ajani. I brushed her a few minutes ago, so she’ll tolerate more attention than usual right now. I found her during a storm, and she would’ve died if I’d left her. But I had a job interview, so I took her with me before taking her to the vet.”
My father scratched Ajani behind her ear, and when my fluffy goddess didn’t complain, he scooped her out of my arms and walked to the couch with her.
“You just stole my cat.”
“While she’s not a human, I’m accepting your offering of a grandchild,” my father announced, taking his seat on my couch and settling Ajani on his lap. While she cocked back an ear, she sniffed my father, cast a doubtful look my way, but tolerated his attention.
I sighed, aware the reality of my household would slate me as whipped by my cat. “You have to earn the attention with the brush.” Since I had no hope of maintaining my dignity, I pointed at the end table. “Use the one with the softest bristles, or I might have a bald cat from all the brushing she’s getting today.”
Bradley retrieved the horrendously pink brush and gave it to my father, thus preventing my cat from going on a rampage. “She’s not joking. She gave me permission to check the brushes, and there have been incidents where she would be attacked if she did not attend to her feline’s needs promptly. The attacks were most vicious.”
“Don’t listen to him. She’s usually gentle.”
Bradley got up, took hold of my hand, lifted my arm, and pointed at the pale lines of scar along my forearm. “That’s gentle?”
“Absolutely.” I eyed the scars, one set of many I’d earned caring for my fluffy goddess. “She was still really young and learning her manners. She was a stray, and she was separated from her mother too early. Because of that, she wasn’t clear on how to behave.” When honest, she still wasn’t all that clear on how to behave, but I’d learned how to avoid being mauled, and she’d become a great deal more tolerant of being handled after staying in the library. The signs warning people to please brush the cat before petting helped, as did the mass collection of brushes available for patrons to use. “She’s never gone after anyone at the branch.”
My boss snickered. “I remember when you got those scars. You needed stitches. Don’t bother trying to convince anyone she’s not a furry demon. But she’s a charming furry demon, so I look the other way when she’s at work.”
“You say that despite buying her several scratching posts, a cat tree for the library, and a carrier for every floor in case of fire.” I laughed over how Ajani had wormed her way into everyone’s affections. “I’ve almost taught her how to be gentle. We’re getting there. It’s because she was separated from her momma too early, and I’m not a very good cat momma. It’s just a few scars.”
Bradley huffed. “A few?” He held my arm up higher and pointed at another set of scars closer to my elbow. “And those?”
“When you fail to feed your fluffy goddess promptly, expect punishment.” I grinned and pointed on yet another set of scars on the same arm. “This one wasn’t her fault. We were playing with one of her toys, and we got a little overenthusiastic.”
“Are you finished with all of your work now, Janette?” Bradley’s mother asked.
“For today. I’ve done sufficient work to fool my boss into thinking I’ve been handling that matter rather than conspiring in my living room.”
Raising a brow, my boss replied, “For the record, we could hear you through that paper-thin door, so yes, you were working, I’m disturbed over your general negotiation abilities, and I’m concerned about what you’ll be doing to my library.”
“Renovating it.”
“The entire thing.”
“Well, yes. They told me we get discounts because we’re a public service and a heritage building. If I can get all floors for the price of only some floors, I’m going to renovate all floors and have them make our building a competitor for the main branch.”
Beatrice, seated on my floor with a sea of papers around her, grinned at me. “I’m pretending I didn’t hear that just so the uppers are caught completely off guard when they go view the building when it’s done. They hate you on a good day, and when they find out you’re working magic with your renovation budget, they’re going to lose their minds. I want to witness this.”
“I’m so glad to be of service. Did you all get any work done while I was making phone calls?”
“Somewhat. We’ve gotten all of the certification requirements put together, so everyone can do their studying so we won’t have to have any retakes. It’ll be three weeks to get an appointment for your shooting qualification. Will you be ready by then?” she replied.
“I’ll have to be. What can we realistically do before we get licensed?”
Bradley released my arm, went to my coffee table, and picked up several sheets of paper, looking through them. After reading them over, he selected one and held it out to me. I joined him, took the paper, and read it over, discovering it to be information regarding Senator Tomalin, the first of the murder victims. “Senator Tomalin’s death is beyond the closed investigative period, so if we’re investigated for investigating, as long as we don’t have any information on the other victims, we’re not breaking any laws. So, we’re going to go through his death and learn everything we can. Anything we learn about the other victims will have to be kept off record—or hidden carefully. As long as we don’t draw attention to ourselves, we shouldn’t be investigated. That’ll give us a chance to get our licensing in order. It won’t stop us from investigating, but we’ll have to be careful about how we handle it.”
“Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“Practice your shooting,” he replied. “I’ll have a new firearm for you tomorrow, and I’ll be making arrangements for a better weapon. Ren will pick you up every evening after work and take you to a range, where you’ll record your hours for qualification. After you’ve gotten the hours needed for carry permit qualification, you’ll get your paperwork filed. That’s all you need to do before your main test.”
“How many hours for qualification for the conceal carry permit?”
“Forty.”
Crap. I’d be spending every waking hour outside of work getting my hours in at the range. After forty hours, I’d probably be back in shape for the test, but my hands would never forgive me—and neither would my foot. “I’m not getting into your car. You bring a sensible vehicle, or you pay for my cab fare to the range. You can pay for my ammo and range time, too. If I have to deal with forty hours at the range, someone better be bringing me orange chicken at least once a week.”
“What’s wrong with my car?”
“My boot won’t fit.” I expected the first time I got into it, my doctor’s worries of flashbacks would manifest, and it
had taken me months before I’d enjoyed life without them.
Everyone stared at my medical boot, which was more than double the size of a regular shoe.
“All right. I’ll secure a different vehicle for your trips to the range. What time will you get off work tomorrow?”
Mr. Tawnlen rolled his eyes, reached over, and scratched Ajani behind her ears. “The branch is still closed for the investigation, and there’s nothing the renovators can do, nor is there much you can do until you can go in and get full measurements of everything, Janette. Mickey, Meridian, while we’re still closed, I want you two to brush up on city codes, bylaws, and anything else we’ll need for this venture. I’ll be doing acquisition research on current forensics rules, regulations, and methodology for the library expansion. Make sure you create a list of relevant materials we’re going to need to order to justify your research. While the library is closed, I’ll have everyone working with acquisitions to help Janette with her general expansion plans. Since Janette has a reputation of not owning a phone and we’re all known to come over here from time to time, we’ll use this as our meeting point.”
While everyone fit, more people were standing or sitting on the floor than fit on my couch, and even if I opened my bedroom for everyone, I couldn’t make the space comfortable for everybody. Some cushions and lap desks would help, and there was a store down the street I could buy them from. “I’ll get some things to make my apartment more comfortable,” I promised.
“I am bringing over a better coffee maker for you tomorrow,” Bradley announced. “I have already ordered it, and I’ll be picking it up as soon as I leave here. I cannot drink that toxic waste.”
I eyed my coffee maker and the collection of mugs taking over my counter, warning me a bunch of fools had tested their luck. “You tried my coffee, didn’t you?”
“I’d rather eat your orange chicken again without milk or sugar.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“It is really that bad. I’m buying you a new coffee maker, and you’re going to like it. If you keep complaining at me about it, I’ll find something else to buy for you, and I’ll force you to accept it. I’m thinking a laptop. I have noticed you do not seem to own a computer, Janette.”
“I use the ones at the library.”
“I’m buying you a laptop. Anything else you don’t own that you should?”
“Try to bring a television in here, and I’ll shatter it over your head.”
He laughed. “You can watch television on your new laptop if you really want. It’ll be useful. I’ll grab you a tablet, too. You can read books on that if you need an excuse.”
“If you’re looking for various things to bribe your way into my apartment, you can go to the bookstore and try to think what a librarian might appreciate.” I considered him. “One suitable item from a bookstore will purchase you one day of welcome into my apartment.”
“You’re going to go broke if you let her con you like that,” Bradley’s mother warned.
“A book a day keeps the exsanguinator at bay,” he replied.
Mickey gave me a dose of the evil eye. “I can’t believe you’re her.”
I couldn’t tell if he loathed or loved my more infamous me. “Was it my glasses?” I countered.
“No, it’s how damned nice you are.”
Unsure of what to think about that, I glanced in Beatrice’s direction.
“You’ve always been kind to him, something we’ve bickered many an hour over, but your magic is basically his worst nightmare. He’s going to need a few weeks to get used to how someone who can be that nice can also be that capable of death, doom, and destruction. He’s ultimately won that argument, especially knowing you’re actually an adept with a rather frightening ability.”
“Well, the death part is certainly accurate, but I used my magic more often in the ER. I’ve always preferred saving lives rather than taking them. But if I want to have full control over my magic, I have to fully use my magic. That means the good and the bad. Otherwise, I lose control of what I don’t practice. The truth of the situation is this: I’m out of practice.”
“Speaking of which, I will bring my first bribes over tomorrow morning along with the materials you need to practice. I’ll also bring a rating bracelet to see what your suppression has done to your abilities.” Bradley turned his attention to Mickey. “The only way you’re going to learn to handle your phobia is through exposure, and if Janette has to use her ability while you’re around, you need to be used to it. If you’re out in the field and she’s forced to use her magic to defend the cell, she can’t worry about you fainting at the first drop of blood. What is it going to take to get you to come over while she’s practicing? You will be exposed to blood. Within a few weeks, you’ll probably have to make a trip or two with her to a slaughterhouse.”
Mickey grimaced. “It’s because I saw a murder when I was little, and all I can remember is the blood. All I can do is promise to try.”
I could understand his issue better than most thought possible; watching someone die left a mark, and some people handled it differently than others. The nature of my magic left a deep mark on me. Not a day went by without me understanding if I lost control, someone I cared about might die as a result. I’d adapted, as I’d had little choice in the matter.
My magic would always be a part of me, and even when hiding it, I remained aware of it lurking beneath my skin. To remind myself of what I was capable of, I unleashed the beast enough to become aware of the presence of blood around me, in my veins—and in theirs.
Something about Bradley’s mother caught my attention, and I frowned, concentrating to try to determine why something seemed amiss. It took me a moment to realize I sensed an unbalance in her blood, one I’d seen often enough in early diabetes. “Have you been to a doctor recently, Mrs. Hampton?”
Bradley’s mother scowled. “Seriously, Janette?” For a moment, I thought she’d cross the room and throttle me, but then she nodded.
“You haven’t told anyone you’re diabetic.”
That caught the attention of Bradley, Ren, and Jezabella, who stared at the woman with stunned expressions.
“Mom?”
“My sweet tooth caught up with me, and the orange juice I guzzled by the gallon finished it off. I didn’t start being a vegan because I liked the idea. I have a protein allergy to go with my damned diabetes. If it’s in the house, I’ll eat it, and as such, it doesn’t come in the house until I come to terms with my inability to not steal food I shouldn’t have. I see you’re as sensitive as ever, Janette.”
“Your blood sugar is off, enough I noticed when I decided to do a basic check with my magic. It’s something I looked for in the ER, because people used to come in with weird symptoms not realizing they’re diabetic. I could identify them the instant they walked through the door and notify triage. Check your meter, but do so in the bathroom or my bedroom so Mickey doesn’t see blood and faint. Though if you want to start trying to get used to it, watching her check her blood sugar is a good way to start, Mickey. It’s usually just a little prick, and it’s controlled.”
“I have a bloodless sensor, although I do have the old-fashioned prick variety in case I’m not sure about the reading. My doctor wants me to use both for now.” Muttering curses, Bradley’s mother retrieved her purse, shot me a glare promising retribution, and went to the bathroom. “I won’t tell if you faint, Mickey, but I make no promises your woman won’t come in checking on you in five minutes.”
While pale, Mickey got up and followed her into my bathroom, which would barely fit the pair.
“That’s not going to end well,” Beatrice predicted. “You can really tell that about someone just from looking at them. I thought that was just a myth. An exaggeration.”
Mickey’s adventure in my bathroom would end better than Beatrice believed possible; Bradley’s magic took on a different nature than his mother’s.
His mother could delve into the past of people rath
er than objects, and if anyone could help Mickey find the right path, it was her. I’d never asked how far she could make her talent go, but if she couldn’t help him, I had no doubt she knew someone who could.
Most believed the worst about adepts, but they were often like everyone else, ranging from good, bad, and everything in between. Most feared me because of what I might do rather than what I did do—and they always would. I’d learned that lesson early on.
No number of hours working in a hospital would erase the world’s misconceptions about me and my abilities.
“She’s really diabetic?” Jezabella whispered. “But why would she hide that?”
“Probably for the same reason it seems she hid the real reason she’s been controlling regarding the household diet.” I shrugged. “She wasn’t diabetic when I lived there. I would’ve spotted it early.”
I’d made a point of scanning the entire household in the morning and evening for anything in their blood that might cause a problem. After the accident, I’d stopped scanning everyone around me out of the fear of discovery, as a used talent grew.
I packed my magic back in its box where it belonged, relaxing when it obeyed my wishes, something I’d worried about from the day I’d started suppressing my ability so I’d remain undiscovered. In the morning, I’d try again to discover how much of my edge I’d lost.
With a killer to find and an entire group of people to protect while doing it, I couldn’t afford to be anything other than my best.
The next few weeks would test me.
“You were checking our blood?” Jezabella asked with wide eyes.
“Twice a day,” I admitted.
Bradley ran his hand through his hair and scratched his scalp, sighing. “She was why the doctor would sometimes swing by the house for a surprise checkup. She’d discovered something amiss and would call him in to deal with it—and since the doctors we usually employ also work at the hospitals she volunteered at, they’d take her seriously. It would prevent a lot of small problems from becoming big problems. I knew about it, but that was because Dad told me.”