Nicole raised both eyebrows. “I guess our Lyris friends killed themselves when they killed Vikram.”
“That would piss me off,” said Dorian.
Kirsten tapped her chin. “Do you think a ghost could literally go into cyberspace? I’m wondering if the power outage might have been our friends from Lyris traveling back to the site of the bomb through the network.”
“How the hell should I”―Nicole flashed an overdone expression of stupid―“Right, never mind.”
Dorian paced for a moment; his eyebrows dueled in a contest of altitude. After the fifth circle around the desks, he came to a halt and pivoted on his heel to face her. “Doubtful. Essentially, ghosts are coalescences of electromagnetic energy. In theory, such energy could travel along wires, but I doubt they could experience the illusion of cyberspace. It would just be power on a line. I can’t see how it would be worth the effort of learning when we can just float through walls. I’m at a loss to explain the blackout.”
Kirsten’s chair thudded into her desk, causing the holographic financial records to blur for several seconds. She sat up, glanced at Dorian, and blinked. “Maybe not, but you just gave me an idea about something else that has been bothering me.
d-bots parted, creating a tunnel amid glimmering holograms and zooming droids through which the patrol craft threaded. Kirsten slowed and leveled off, squinting at the golden sunlight on the mirrored surfaces of approaching buildings. She evaded a ponderous trash-collection droid as it ascended out of a port midway up the building. Tiny (by comparison) robotic arms at the front end packed the overstuffed hold; an immense rectangular fly cleaning its legs. The patrol craft passed in a gradual banking turn over a large, rounded patio deck, which jutted out from the building seventy stories up. From there, the wall held a concave shape to the top, thirty stories later. Kirsten thought it looked like a giant cup holder, the cavity in the building a perfect match for an impossibly large mug.
People lounging around a pool shielded their eyes from the fading sun as the hovercar slid past, alarmed by someone so far out of the designated traffic lane. On the opposite side, a similar deck had no pool but held few dozen hovercars. She landed in the first open space she saw, and went for the elevator.
“This is a bad idea,” Dorian grumbled, jogging to keep up with her brisk walk.
Kirsten pointed at the door and shook her head. “No it’s not. I’m sorry if you don’t want to deal with it, but I can’t let it go. He did something to her.”
“I was thinking on the ride over, what if the thing that scratched you was responsible for the blackout?”
Beep. Police ID accepted.
“I… Crap, if you’re right that means it’s not tied to that building.” Just inside the parking deck, a bank of a dozen elevators lined the walls of a pass-through tunnel to the pool area. Pleasant music fell like mist from the ceiling, as if watering the plastic plants. “If it’s not stuck to the building…”
He gazed at the ceiling lights. “It’ll be chasing Albert all over again.”
Silver elevator doors closed, giving her a full body reflection, which she used to swat bits of dust away from her uniform. Dorian fidgeted in the manner of a boy about to ask his crush for the first date. Kirsten hit the button for the thirty-ninth floor, and the cab sank.
“I didn’t notice the pool deck last time we were here. I guess this place is higher end.”
He refused to make eye contact. “Below the fiftieth, it’s not much more expensive than everything else in the area. Pool access is extra. You could afford it here, you know. You’re not as poor as you live.”
She stared at him with sad eyes. “I don’t want to waste it on stuff I don’t need. I’ve eaten trash, Dorian. I’ve done things for food…”
“Hey.” A cold finger tried to lift her chin. “That’s not who you are anymore. You make good money with the force, and you don’t have to live like a street urchin. Besides, you’re taking Evan home now. You need more room. The boy needs a bed of his own, not a sleeping sack.”
Thinking about Evan brought a smile through the cloak of shame she had just pulled over her shoulders. “Maybe. If things work out I’ll consider it.”
“Work out?”
Ping. The door opened.
“Yeah, my psych report. They’re a little suspicious of my sudden recovery from the nightmares. I didn’t tell them about the too-real vision I had while working out the kinks of how to project. They’ll think I’m even nuttier.”
He laughed, an emotion that died a hasty death when he saw Nila’s door. Dorian folded his hands behind himself and fidgeted.
It squeaked to the side, beige panel consumed by beige wall. Same sweat pants, different shirt. Off-pink sweater this time, over a sports bra. Still barefoot. Pink toenails.
“Hi, Nila, can I come in for a minute?”
The woman paled at the sight of the Division 0 blacks; the silver belt, the weapon, boots, the whole of it caused an anxiety attack. Nila staggered back, clutching at her face as if she had witnessed a person’s guts spill out onto the floor. With a scream, she turned and ran into the apartment. The noise drew Shani from the back hallway. She stopped at the end of the hall, her twig-thin body wrapped in a one-piece swimsuit. A towel fell out of her hands and off her shoulders when she looked at Kirsten in full uniform.
“No.” The girl shrieked. “Leave my mommy alone!”
As Nila disappeared into the kitchen, the little girl charged. Kirsten weathered a barrage of feeble punches in the chest and held on, immobilizing the writhing figure in a forceful hug. Dorian cringed away and wandered to where he could see Nila. After a few minutes of struggling, Shani ran out of steam and sagged. Her rage useless, she resorted to sobbing and begging.
“Please don’t kill my mommy.” She sniffled, wiping her face.
“Shani, I only came here to help her. I’m not going to make her do anything she does not want to do. I think someone might have hurt her.” Such suspicion in eyes so young. “You’ll make a good detective someday, kiddo.”
“Police are bad. They make people die.”
Kirsten carried her to the sofa and set her down. “I promise you I am not going to hurt your mommy. I did not come here to make her go back to work.”
Shani’s face switched from glare to plead and back again. The concern in Kirsten’s voice broke through, and the child pouted at her lap. “Okay.”
Nila arrived at the kitchen door, walking towards the sound of her daughter’s voice. “Shani, is everything―”
As soon as she saw Kirsten in uniform, the panic returned, and she sprinted out of sight. The girl started crying. Dorian radiated anger. Seeing Nila act like a terrified co-ed from a low-budget slasher vid grated on him.
“It’s not your fault, Dorian.” Kirsten patted the girl on the head and ducked into the kitchen.
Nila curled in a ball under the table, scooting backwards as soon as the source of her fear walked in.
“Nila, calm down.” Faint light flickered through Kirsten’s eyes.
The woman froze.
Kirsten stooped and crawled over, bracing a hand on each cheek. “Listen to me, Nila Assad. Someone did something to you. All I want to do is fix it.”
Shani wrapped herself around the doorjamb between the kitchen and living room, half her body visible, with a distrustful glare at Kirsten―not that she noticed.
“What are you doing?” Dorian’s legs entered her peripheral vision.
Mental energy flowed between the women, Kirsten fished through Nila’s brain for what she suspected, and found.
“Someone implanted a hypnotic trigger in your ex-partner.” Kirsten’s voice came out trancelike, slipped in between periods of focus. “He conditioned her to be terrified of working… He… I see Rene. He forced her to drive him away, helping him escape. I’m almost there, I can erase this.”
Nila went catatonic, arms dangled to the tile floor.
Dorian surged with rage, growling. He stormed about in
a circle and tried to punch the wall. When a hole smashed in the drywall with no apparent cause, Shani ran, her scream getting quieter the further she went into the back of the apartment. He shuddered, glaring at nothing in particular.
“Easy.” Kirsten’s concentration broke. “I know it wasn’t her idea. He made her do it. Hey, Dorian.”
He glared down.
“It is not your fault, she did not lose her nerve, Rene stole it.”
Anger fizzled off in the form of pacing. “Don’t tell her I was trying to work up the courage to ask her out. She does not need anything else to upset her.”
Diving back into Nila’s mind, Kirsten ferreted out the telltale energy patterns of a long-term suggestion. Inflicting them was beyond her understanding; her use of suggestion so far had been limited to brief short-term commands. Other psionics, those who excelled at it, could leave psychic land mines. Enduring directions or lingering changes in behavior, sometimes even sleeper commands that would remain unnoticed for days, months, or even years before they triggered and forced the victim to do something.
In Nila’s case, it appeared he had used her to flee the approaching army of police, and created a false dread about returning to work, making her think doing so would cause immediate death. Surprised he didn’t kill her. Kirsten frowned. Probably just didn’t want the heat of murdering two cops.
Sweat ran down the sides of her neck, the exertion of stumbling through the hatchet job in Nila’s mind more strenuous than five swipes of a lash. “I think I got it. She should probably go talk to Lt. Cmdr. Ashford when she collects herself.”
Kirsten shivered just thinking of him.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’ll find out she helped him escape and wipe her back to infancy.”
“Now you’re the one being paranoid. She didn’t consciously do that; it was suggestion. I’m only a grade two telepath, maybe a three in suggestion. I don’t really like using it.” It just comes in so damn handy sometimes. “For Nila’s sake, she should make sure it’s been cleaned out. I don’t want to run the risk of there being some deep implant I’m not good enough to find coming out and doing something years from now.”
“Ugh.” Nila held her head. “Kirsten? How did you get inside? Where’s Shani? What the hell happened to my wall?”
Kirsten helped her up, out from under the table, and walked her to the couch. “Do you remember me visiting you two days ago in a green dress?”
“Sort of…” She stared at the wall. “No. Not really.”
Wow, I look so pale compared to her. “I’m sorry to dredge up bad memories, but do you remember the day it happened?”
Nila’s hand slid up her arm, rubbing where she had been shot. “Yes, like it was yesterday. He figured the visor would block eye contact. It was classic Dorian, he was so confident.” A wistful smile parted her lips. “I miss him.”
Dorian continued pacing, grumbling.
“I’m not telling you to go back to active duty, but he blames himself for your PTSD.”
She blinked. “I have PTSD?”
He whirled. “Kirsten, don’t torture her. Please just leave it alone.”
“Maybe you don’t. You seem to have a sharp fear of anything to do with the department. It verges on irrational. It might have been part of the suggestion Rene implanted that is forcing you to avoid anything to do with Division 0.”
“I think you’re going out on a limb about it, I feel fine. I suppose I could call Doctor Kim, see what he thinks.”
A shadow in the hallway made Kirsten look; nothing was there.
“Wait, did you say he blames himself? He’s not dead?”
Dorian lifted his chin, a slight side-to-side shake in his head. “Kirsten, please…”
“I told you the last time I was here, he’s a ghost. He’s right here with us now.”
He hung his head.
Nila barked a nervous laugh, but when Kirsten stayed serious, she lifted an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. Don’t you remember a few days ago when I came by with the food? Peek at my head if you want.”
The telltale wave came; a cool band of energy, a breeze that touched only her brain. Kirsten let it in, keeping her eyes on Dorian’s chiding finger. Nila tried to look at the spot of room where he was, estimating by what she saw through Kirsten’s memory.
“D… Dorian.” She gasped, reaching into the coldness that settled onto the sofa next to her.
Kirsten had never seen him display much emotion before; he looked about ready to cry. She found it difficult to contain jealousy as he stroked a vaporous hand through Nila’s thick black hair.
“Tell her she is beautiful, and if she does decide to go back to active duty, not to perform summaries.”
Kirsten relayed the message.
Nila wiped her nose. “He only killed three. They all deserved it, what they did to innocent people.”
Dorian found the floor intriguing.
“It’s not that,” said Kirsten.
“It’s not what?” Nila looked up. “Div 1 officers perform summaries on Lace dealers, cop killers, some of them even on anyone that hurts a kid.”
Pale thumb rubbed a caramel-colored hand. “Nila, it’s not about the law. I mean, yeah, we can legally kill people in most circumstances, but it’s just wrong to do that.”
“You’re telling me you’ve never killed anyone?”
“I have.” Kirsten gazed down, her voice almost a whisper. “Only when I had to, when they were trying to kill me. Heat of the moment, immediate danger. Never premeditated, never with malice or vengeance.”
“Is that why Dorian’s still here?” Tears slipped down Nila’s cheeks.
Dorian tensed.
“He’s got unfinished business. Besides, he wasn’t ready to retire.” Kirsten tried to smile.
Nila nodded.
Dorian relaxed.
A child’s whispering echoed in the hallway. Kirsten looked over, then back to Nila. “I’m afraid it could still be a mark on your soul to kill a defenseless person, no matter how evil they are.”
“Some religious people insist on eye-for-an-eye,” said Dorian.
“While some say ‘turn the other cheek.’ It’s all guesswork, Dorian. None of us know. I don’t wanna risk it.” She faced Nila. “He wants to get Rene for what he did to you.”
“Is that why he’s haunting? Guilt?”
“Yeah, but not about what he did. He is worried about your recovery.”
“Kirsten…” Dorian held up a hand.
Nila squeezed her arm again. “It’s fine, the lasers just made tiny holes. Bullets would have blown my whole arm off and I’d have a metal one now.”
Kirsten shuddered.
“Bullets wouldn’t have gone through the damn armor plated car.” Dorian scowled. “It’s bad enough they let everyone and their mother have ballistic weapons. How the hell did he get laser rifles?”
“He was holed up in a grey zone; there’s about two hundred people in this city to every cop, and politicians are what they always have been―for sale.”
Dorian and Nila nodded in agreement. After a moment, he found the strength to whisper loud enough for Nila to hear him. Kirsten left them some privacy, heading down the hall to the daughter’s room. She nudged the door open, finding the girl flopped on the bed on her stomach, propped up on her elbows as if reading a datapad.
At the sound of Kirsten’s approach, the girl flipped over, clutching a stuffed white unicorn. She wore a guilty expression, and tried to block a small mound of stuffed animals with her body.
“What’s wrong?”
She pouted. “I’m too old to play with dolls and make them talk.”
Kirsten leaned on the wall. Aww. “It’s okay, Shani. You’re still little enough to have an imagination. I’m sorry you got scared; my friend was angry someone hurt your mommy.”
“You have an invisible friend?” The girl blinked, as if calling Kirsten nuts.
“Yeah, something like
that. Were you talking to your invisible friend?”
The girl looked at the unicorn. “No. I was being stupid, talking to a piece of cloth.”
Kirsten edged through the door, taking a seat on the end of the comforgel pad. “Your mom is feeling better now. Someone did something bad to her, but it’s gone now.”
“Can we still go to the pool?”
“That’s up to her, but I think so.”
Shani smiled. “Watch this.”
She set the unicorn down on its legs and stared at it. A ripple spread through the plush white fabric an instant before the stuffed creature pranced around, apparently on its own. The telekinetic animation was precise enough to make it appear alive.
Kirsten broke up, giggling. The kid’s intense concentration lapsed as soon as Kirsten added a human-shaped rag doll to the mix. Her telekinetic effort was crude by comparison, the doll bobbed along as if held by a hand.
Playing with dolls for a few minutes seemed to take the girl’s mind off the fright of a self-smashing wall. Nila walked in and put a hand on Kirsten’s shoulder.
“Thank you.”
Noticing a lack of Dorian, Kirsten got paler. “Where’s Dorian? He didn’t just vanish, did he?”
“I think he said roof, or car, or something. It was hard to hear him.”
Kirsten stood and the doll fell limp. “Yeah, he hasn’t spent a lot of time trying to learn how to project into the real world. I should get going; I’m in the middle of a case and just stopped by to help.”
“I think I’m starting to remember things; it’s coming back to me in bits and pieces. I’m gonna find that bastard.”
Shani curled into a ball, frightened at the tone of her mother’s voice.
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Nila. It’s not worth it.”
Tactical Officer Nila Assad shifted her eyes to Kirsten and gathered her daughter into a hug. “I have to think. I know I accepted the possibility that ghosts were real, but seeing him, seeing proof that gho”―she squeezed the girl tight―“seeing proof there’s more than just this. It makes a lot of things seem different.”
Kirsten’s offer of a handshake became a long, silent clasping. “Things other than police keep the laws of the dead. I don’t really understand it either yet.”
Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis Page 8