Broken Shadows

by A. J. Larrieu

  I thought instead about Malik and Paulie, the way Paulie had grabbed my hand, desperate. Jackson’s eyes moved beneath his closed lids, and his hands relaxed. He leaned forward a little, lips parting, and a slash of dark hair fell down over his forehead. I noticed for the first time the way his bottom lip was slightly rounded compared to his top, a note of softness in the hard planes of his face.

  Shit.

  Jackson opened his eyes.

  “Did it help?” Let’s just pretend none of that happened, please.

  “Yeah.” He paused a beat, long enough for me to wonder if he meant more than what he was saying. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. It looks like she sort of...rewired you.”

  “Um, okay?”

  “I mean, she fixed your shadowmind, part of it, anyway. It was too damaged to let you mindmove or mindspeak, but maybe she gave you something else.”

  “The ability to inflict minor burns and terrify people?”

  “No—you’re like some sort of grounding wire. You’re taking energy from a shadowmind and dissipating it. Like pulling in reverse.”

  “But not permanently. Right?” It was more hope than conviction.

  “Only in the moment, maybe for a few hours afterword. I recovered. Paulie’s powers are back, too, by the way.” He clenched his fist. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Let me know if he keeps giving you trouble.”

  “I can handle him.”

  Jackson looked as though he wanted to argue, but he let it go. “Regardless, you’ll have to learn to ground out the power. Otherwise it seems like it discharges on whatever’s handy.”

  I couldn’t help glancing at his chest. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know—”

  “They’re almost gone. I think it wasn’t as severe because I wasn’t using my powers when I was close to you.”

  That surprised me. “You weren’t?” I figured he’d at least been skimming my thoughts.

  He met my eyes. “I don’t go invading your head without your permission.”

  “Then how did you know how I like my coffee?” I blurted it out, surprised to hear myself.

  His mouth quirked up. “You did live with me for a couple of weeks last year. I paid attention.”

  “Oh,” was all I managed to say. His expression stayed light, but something else crept in. Hurt that I’d thought he’d skim without permission? The moment lengthened, and my lips parted. I wondered what he would find if he invaded my head now, and my heart pounded with a different kind of fear. I broke eye contact first.

  “So how do I dissipate it? I don’t want to go setting things on fire any time I touch a shadowmind.”

  “Yes,” Jackson said with a small smile. “That would be bad.”

  “No kidding. I don’t suppose you know someone I could ask about this.”

  “No. No, this is unprecedented.”

  “Great.” I was going to have to quit my job. If I still had a job after running out like I had. I mentally erased my time-to-a-security-deposit calculation.

  “It might not be as hard as you think.” He slid a little closer to me on the couch and gently took my coffee. “Are you still carrying a charge from earlier?”

  “From Paulie? I don’t think so. Maybe it dissipated while I was walking?”

  “Here.” He held out his hand. “Let’s see if we can figure it out.”

  I shrank back. “You want me to do it on purpose? No way.”

  “You’re going to have to learn how eventually.”

  “Not if I never touch another shadowmind.”

  He opened his mouth and closed it again. “Well—I mean—if that’s what you—What about the speakeasy?”

  “Gloves?” I was only half-joking.

  “Come on,” Jackson said. “It’s not permanent. I don’t mind.”

  I shook my head. “But I do.”

  Chapter Six

  The next day I reluctantly asked Jackson if he was willing to help me move my few belongings into storage. I almost hoped he’d turn me down—at least if I hired some of the storage company’s workers to help me, I wouldn’t have to stress out about accidentally touching them—but of course he said yes.

  Jackson drove us to the U-Store-It on Brannon Street and parked in their surprisingly ample lot. I’d reserved the smallest unit they had, plus a pickup truck for the morning. When I unlocked the unit and rolled up the metal door, he looked doubtful.

  “Are you sure your stuff is going to fit in here?”

  “There’ll probably be space left over. Are you sure you don’t mind doing this?” I wished yet again that I could have asked Avery to help instead, but I couldn’t ask a pregnant woman to haul furniture.

  “I’m sure. Come on.”

  With Jackson helping—and using telekinesis whenever he could—it took us less time than I’d anticipated to load up the furniture and the half-dozen boxes of books and cheap cookware I’d accumulated over the past year. It wasn’t much by most standards, but seeing it gathered in one place like that, I wondered how I’d managed to accumulate so many belongings, to put down so many anchors in this city that still wasn’t mine.

  “Are you okay?” Jackson asked me, and I realized I’d been sitting in the passenger seat in silence for a dozen blocks.

  “Just thinking,” But I couldn’t tell him about what. I’d been wondering why I didn’t just go home. It would be easier. I would have a place to live, a job at the B&B. It wasn’t just the prospect of being around shadowminds, not anymore. Some part of me wanted to prove I could make it on my own.

  After we returned the truck, I asked Jackson to drop me off downtown. I was scheduled to work—if I still had a job—but I had one more errand to run before I went in. I headed to one of the fancy department stores on Market Street and asked the first cashier I saw where the gloves were.

  I’d never bought gloves before. I hadn’t needed them in Louisiana, and they definitely weren’t necessary in San Francisco. They’d always seemed like a frivolous accessory, the kind of thing people bought to match their coats and never really wore. Now, I needed them for practical reasons.

  I tried on a dozen pair before I found some that felt right. They were a little darker than the color of my skin, but if I wore long sleeves I hoped they’d only be noticeable when I took cash or handed over drinks. And anyway, gloves were better than accidentally neutralizing a customer. I tucked them into my back pocket and headed for the speakeasy to see if I still had a job to go back to. After the way I’d left yesterday, I wasn’t entirely sure.

  I got to the door behind the Dumpster at Featherweight’s and fished for my keys, only to realize I’d left them at Jackson’s.

  “Dammit,” I said to the door. I didn’t want to call Malik and ask him to let me in before I even knew if I was still employed. I turned to head into Featherweight’s, hoping Caleb was working, and jumped when I saw Paulie standing right behind me.

  “Jesus, Paulie. What are you doing here? The bar doesn’t open for hours.” I pressed a hand to my chest, breathing hard.

  “I know,” he said. “I was looking for you.”

  I frowned. “What for?”

  Before I knew what he was after, he’d lunged forward and grabbed my hand, covering it with both of his. I stared at him in shock, and the prickling of the power transfer built where his skin touched mine. I yanked my hand back.

  “No!” he said, making a grab for me again. I stepped back and gave him an astonished look.

  “You want me to ground you?”

  “You don’t understand—it’s constant. I can’t handle it anymore. If you could make it stop, even for just one more day, I swear...I’ll pay you, I can get money—” He put his hands on my arms, gripping.

  “Jesus, Paul
ie, stop!” I shook his hands off. “You think I’d make you pay me?”

  “I’m desperate, Mina. Please.”

  I had no trouble reading his expression. He was pleading. I couldn’t imagine wanting something like this, but then, I didn’t have Paulie’s gift. It couldn’t be easy, not being able to block out emotion. All shadowminds with any kind of telepathy went through this phase as kids—when your powers were mature but you couldn’t quite control them yet. I remembered being in high school, picking up on everybody’s raging, overemotional crushes at once, feeling as if my head were a radio receiver for the whole school’s teenaged angst. It was a rite of passage—you learned how to deal because you had to. Maybe it was harder for empaths.

  “Please, Mina.”

  It was like kicking a puppy to disappoint this guy. I didn’t have it in me. “Okay,” I said. “Fine. Let’s just try it and see how it goes.” His eyes lit up. “I may not be able to do this every day,” I added, a little scared of the way he was looking at me.

  “That’s okay,” Paulie said, nodding rapidly. “I understand.”

  I took a deep breath and took his hands in mine.

  “What do I do?” he said.

  “I have no idea. Just...wait, I guess.”

  It took about ten seconds for the transfer to start. I knew to expect it now, and when the unpleasant prickling feeling started moving up my arms, I didn’t draw back. I could see it in Paulie’s face as he started losing his empathic connection with me. His eyes widened and then relaxed, and he gave a small, blissful moan. The rush of adrenaline hit me a few moments later.

  “Oh,” Paulie said, a soft sound.

  I recognized the panic for what it was this time—a physical reaction to the energy I’d stolen from Paulie. That didn’t make it any less intense. I had to fight a false, instinctual urge to run.

  “Are you okay?” Paulie asked, but he was already looking back the way he’d come.

  “I’ll be fine.” Hopefully I wouldn’t have to set something on fire every time I did this.

  “Thanks, Mina. You really are the best.”

  “I don’t know how long it’ll last. Probably not more than a couple hours.”

  “It’s enough.” He was already picking up his bag. “I gotta go. I’ll see you later?”

  “Hey, wait! Do you have a key? Can you let me in?” I kicked at the locked door.

  “Huh? Oh, sure.” He unlocked it for me absently, almost letting it close again before I could catch it.

  “Thanks,” I called after him, but he was already walking out of the alley. I shook my head as he disappeared and let the door slam behind me.

  The only light in the hallway was from a couple of weak, bare lightbulbs. It was enough light to tell that the concrete tunnel was dirty, but not exactly with what. Maybe that was something to be grateful for. My mind spun with the possibilities of disease-laden rat droppings and poisonous spiders hiding in the shadows. Had the door locked behind me? I scrabbled at the knob frantically until I recognized the panic for what it was—the energy I’d stolen from Paulie.

  I took a deep breath. The day before the panic had taken hours to dissipate—I couldn’t walk around like this all day. I had to find a way to dissipate it consciously.

  Back when I’d been learning how to mindmove, my mother had taught me how to access my shadowmind. It was a little like searching for a memory, or replaying a song in my head. A specific kind of concentration.

  Jackson had said it was my shadowmind that Cass rewired. If it was my shadowmind that was grounding people, then I should be able to control it like I had before. Theoretically.

  I stayed where I was with my hand on the doorknob. Years of practice I thought I’d never need again came back to me. The way my mother had taught me to focus my power on a single spot until I could tie knots in thread with my mind, the way I’d learned to bait hooks telekinetically out fishing with my uncle. How I’d learned to scan a crowded room for a crush when I was in high school. I reached for that feeling again, that sense of connecting with something vast through the tips of my fingers. The rest of the world wasn’t there the way I’d grown up experiencing it, but the hectic power in my body was. I let out a pent-up breath, and the energy I’d absorbed flooded out of me. It happened all at once, a surge of power arcing through my fingers fast enough to send a shower of sparks between my hands and the metal doorknob.

  “Ouch!”

  The door swung open, and there was Malik, rubbing his hand and frowning. His keys still hung in the exterior knob.

  “You the new security system?”

  “Oh God. I’m so sorry.” This was definitely not how I’d hoped to ask if I still had a job.

  Malik pulled out his keys. “What’s going on?”

  “I...uh...” No point trying to lie to a telepath. I explained what had happened with Paulie.

  “Lazy bastard,” Malik said. “If he’d just focus a little instead of watching porn in his mamma’s basement, he’d be all right.” He shut the door and started down the tunnel. “So what are you doing here so early, anyway?”

  “Actually I came to see if I still have a job.” My heart caught in my throat as I said it. “I’m really sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have run off like that, but I just freaked out.”

  “Wait up.” He turned around and faced me in the dim light. “You think I’d fire you?”

  “Well, I’d understand if you did.”

  “Mina.” He reached out and took my hand. “That was enough to freak anybody out.” He squeezed my palm, and I realized I hadn’t felt the heat I’d come to associate with an energy transfer. I yanked my hand back anyway.

  “I got these.” I took the gloves out of my back pocket. “Just to be safe.”

  He nodded. “I didn’t feel a thing just then.”

  “Maybe because I just grounded Paulie? I still don’t understand how this works.” I remembered how I hadn’t felt a charge from Bridget when she’d dropped me off at Jackson’s the night before. It must take at least half a day for me to be able to ground someone again, maybe more. If neutralizing Paulie’s powers meant I could be around shadowminds safely, maybe this wasn’t as bad as I’d thought. “Maybe I have to...recharge. Or something.”

  “You’ll figure it out. In the meantime, there’s a new shipment of Tanqueray to unpack.”

  “Just what I was hoping for.”

  We went into the stockroom, and Malik flipped on the lights. Sure enough, there were cases of liquor ready and waiting on the floor.

  “Sebastian usually brings it down,” Malik said. “We route all the deliveries through the upper bar so we can stay off the books.”

  “Who’s Sebastian?”

  “Owner of Featherweight’s.” Malik took out a box cutter and started opening boxes. “You haven’t met him yet?”

  I shook my head, and Malik chuckled. “He’s hard to forget.” He handed me two bottles of gin, and I took them and placed them carefully on an empty spot on the shelf. There was no organization to it whatsoever—eight different kinds of hard liquor jumbled together with bottles of wine and six-packs of beer from local microbreweries.

  “You know, even secret supernatural speakeasies should be organized,” I said, laughing. “How can you even tell when you’re out of something.”

  “It’s all up here.” Malik tapped his temple, and I shook my head at him. “By the way, the boss is coming in tonight. Wants to meet you.”

  “Simon?” I looked down at my faded orange V-neck and torn-up jeans.

  “Don’t worry. He’s not a suit-and-tie kind of guy.” He grinned. “Not like some people.”

  “Oh, shut up.” I grabbed the bottles he extended to me and shoved them rather harder than necessary into the first empty spot I could find. Malik was unfazed.

  “Speak
ing of your boy, what’s he think about all this?”

  “Jackson is not my boy.”

  “Uh-huh. What’s he think about it?”

  “I don’t see why he should care.” I thought about his offer to help me learn to control it, the way he’d looked with his hand outstretched. I hadn’t expected him to be so willing to take that kind of risk. As if it was nothing, not even a question.

  Malik slanted me a look. “Of course he cares, you moron.”

  I slid two bottles of gin into place. “Look, Dr. Ruth, I’m not in need of relationship advice. We’re just friends. Not even friends. Acquaintances. And I’m moving out as soon as I find a place.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  We finished unpacking the gin and got started on the side work. I cut fruit while Malik transferred clean glasses from the dishwasher to the racks beneath the bar. I’d expected the place to feel a little creepy with hardly anyone in it—it was an old fallout bunker, after all—but it was almost calming. No street noise or slamming doors, just the quiet hum of the under-bar fridge and the electric lights. We worked in companionable silence until Simon showed up.

  I knew it was him right away. He came in through the back, a tall man with dark hair and Asian features wearing a black leather jacket and carrying a motorcycle helmet. He greeted Malik and set the helmet on the bar.

  “You must be my new bartender.” Tenor, California accent, very clear. He held out his hand.

  I almost took it. Then I remembered draining your boss’s supernatural powers was probably not the best way to make a first impression. I wasn’t going to bank on being temporarily safe to touch. “Uh...” I began, trying to come up with a quick way to explain.

  “Oh, right.” He let his hand fall. “I forgot. Simon Lee.”

  “Mina Tanner.”

  “So.” He straddled a stool and sat down. “Malik says you’re an accountant.”

  “I am. But the job market’s not exactly booming right now.”

  “So I hear. Well, if you want to pick up a handful of extra hours, you can help me out with this.” He reached down and hauled a dirty white binder up from somewhere below the bar. It bristled with unaligned printer paper and carbon copy receipts. He dropped it on the bar with a thunk.