Transfer_An Urban Fantasy Romance

by Jordan C. Robinson

  He passed me by and my head followed him as we both continued in our respective directions. I only lost sight of him after I turned the corner he had come from. With him out of view, I looked forward and froze. The sidewalk was blocked off. I moved closer, my stomach doing a flip. It was under construction, torn up from a jackhammer. Google Maps insisted I go that way but there was no getting through. The entire road was fenced off. I zoomed in on my phone, ignoring the growing despair in my gut. I could get around it by entering the alley to my left, but as I peered down it, I wanted to cut that possibility. There was no light available and it seemed to be one of the longest alleys I had ever seen. It would be a perfect spot for an ambush.

  I turned around, resigning myself to walking all the way back to the club. I requested an Uber, hoping they could get fairly close to me and soon. Turning the corner, I put my phone in my pocket, and came face to face with the man I’d just passed. He stood with a wicked smile, his pale face contrasting against his dark clothes. He held his hat in his hand, his head cocked to the side.

  “Something wrong with the alley?” The man’s smile grew.

  The next thing I knew, I was doubled over, my knees hitting the pavement, my breath leaving my chest. He had hit me. I tried to straighten up, but a bag went over my head. I swung wildly before getting pushed onto my back. With the wind still knocked out of me, I gasped for air. My arms were pressed to the ground. A knee to my stomach, I was being smothered. I could feel the hot breath of the attacker through the thin fabric of the bag.

  “Use your powers.”

  “What?” I choked out.

  “I can’t hear you, but do it.” It was the same whisper that Chandler had used before. Was he here? “Don’t just sit there. Grab his face or arm, anything, and draw.”

  I flailed my arms again, this time attempting to reach anything of my attacker. His grip loosened on my right arm and I was able to grab what felt like an ankle. I closed my eyes and pulled hard on his energy. I tightened my fist. Suddenly, my hand closed in on itself with no ankle to hold onto. I felt something with the consistency of sand fall through my fingers and a moment later my attacker screeched in my face. He shook me but it didn’t bother me any longer. The power flowed through my right arm and settled in my chest, around my heart.

  “Now use it.”

  I brought my freed left arm to the attacker’s still screaming face and expelled the energy. I urged it from my heart, pushing it as fast as I could.

  The man yelled one last time as the energy radiated out of my palm. The hand heated up and I struggled to keep it from recoiling. The man went silent and I felt his body fall to my side. I pulled at the bag with my left hand before feeling the heat radiating from it. It burned a hole straight through the bag. I frowned, switching hands, not wanting to burn my own face off.

  With my sight restored, I glanced at the body to my left. The leg that I grabbed was now in two, sheared through at the ankle. Where my hand had been was a pile of shattered bone, most as fine as sand. Looking at his face, I grimaced. With my dinner in my throat, I turned away.

  “Now would be a good time to move,” the whisper said. Chandler was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where are you?”

  He ignored my question. “Three more guys coming from the alley.”

  More? I stood, wobbling until I got my bearings. Standing still as a statue, I listened for the footsteps of the alley trio. The sound of a crinkling newspaper barely filled the air. It could be the wind, or it could be the individuals. My heart picked up its pace—which I thought to be impossible given it was already pounding. I should run. I picked up my foot, sticky from blood. I set it down and it re-stuck to the ground. Gross. I took another step forward before pausing. Where would running leave me? In a position to wait a week for another attack.

  “Why aren’t you moving?” Chandler’s voice carried more urgency this time.

  I didn’t bother responding. He couldn’t hear me.

  An extended “Heeey,” came from behind me. I whirled around. The three men had turned the corner. There was just enough light to see the surprise on the first one’s face. He turned to the pair behind him and said something. The three of them fanned out. I was frozen, watching them move. In a few short seconds I was surrounded by them and a wall.

  Why didn’t I run? “Well, I’m committed now,” I muttered to myself.

  “Use the body,” Chandler whispered.

  I groaned as I bent down, keeping my eyes on the three soon-to-be attackers. I had no clue what I was going to do, but Chandler seemed to think the body still had enough life in it for some . . . magic. Was that what I was calling it?

  My hand touched the head of the corpse, sinking into the remains of its destroyed face. My dinner threatened to yet again make another appearance. The three men didn’t move. I assumed the fact that their buddy had no face and a severed foot made them hesitate.

  What would be useful here? Destruction? Protection? Manipulation of the energy? I could make a sword, but the one in front of me raised a gun. Sword was out. I gently began drawing the energy from the body. I would have to improvise.

  The man behind me, one of the two without a gun, finally spoke, “All right. So, looks like something happened here. No one else needs to get hurt.”

  The energy flowed through my arm, wrapping tight in my chest. I spared a look at the guy who had just spoken and Chandler whispered to me.

  “His hand is on the trigger. You might want to do something.”

  “Can you let go of our friend’s body?” The unarmed man said.

  I pulled my right hand off his head, placing my left on my chest. “Sorry.” I willed the energy through my left arm. My palm went hot again, but this time the energy flowed over me. Immediately, my mind pictured getting covered in concrete. The energy that released from my palm was invisible (I looked down and checked), but it was incredibly heavy, like a weighted vest. The warped energy defied gravity and climbed over my pecs, up my neck and even around my face. I was afraid to speak.

  This time, I heard the gun click. I didn’t know much about guns, but I figured he would be close to firing. None of the men spoke. I twisted my neck which I was surprised was still mobile, and just as the gunman became visible in my peripheral, I felt an impact that defied words. For the second time that night, I lost my breath. I fell backward to the ground with a gasp. I opened my eyes to a dark sky and three heads, only one which was looking down at me. The other two were in conversation.

  “Shit,” the one peering down at me said. “He’s still alive.”

  “Then shoot him again.”

  The gun rang out once more and it felt like I was punched into the concrete by Hercules himself, only to bounce a foot off the ground. An immediate pain seared through my chest, but quickly radiated throughout the rest of my body. Somehow I managed to roll over.

  “How is this dude still moving?” I heard one of the guys say. It sounded like it was coming from another dimension. I soon realized it was absolutely this dimension as he kicked me, forcing me into a fetal position. I grabbed his foot and drew from it. I didn’t know what I would do with the energy but anything beat being shot again. “Oh god,” the guy whose foot I grabbed said. “What is he doing?” He shook his foot but I held tight. I knew being drawn from felt weird from the practice Kristen had let me do on her. I would have smiled at his discomfort if I could still breathe. The only difference now was that when he cursed out of discomfort, I didn’t stop.

  I drew from him until I felt like my heart would beat out of my chest. When I couldn’t hold it any longer I pushed off his leg, trying to roll onto my back. At the same time I flung my palm into the air, hoping it was in the general vicinity of the three attackers. Black manifested out of my palm. It wasn’t just a blanket of black, but rather, it looked like millions of tiny bugs flowing from my palms, spreading like a blooming flower. The power shot through my arm like a dam had been lifted out of a river. It pulsed as I became lightheaded. Th
e men screamed. One cursed. I could no longer see their faces when my palm ceased producing the energy. I had no idea what it was, but my mind had been set on destruction to the worst level. I was pissed off, and if my magic did what I wanted, those men wouldn’t be alive when I woke up. That was my last thought before I passed out.

  My eyes creaked open and slowly focused on the ceiling of my bedroom. I twisted my head around. Chandler was sitting at my desk, reading a book.

  “Oh,” he said once he noticed me. “You’re awake.”

  I attempted to push myself up onto my elbows but my arms wouldn’t move. They were dead weight. Daichi stood up and walked to my side of the bed.

  “Don’t try to get up.” he said. “You need your rest.”

  “What happened?” I asked. “What time is it?”

  “You killed two of the men.” He paused, likely for dramatic effect.

  “And?” I would have gestured for him to continue, but my arms were still limp noodles.

  “And the third was unconscious.” Chandler flashed a small grin, adding a nod. “Yes, yes. Before you ask, I did clean up the bodies, and the third man is in a safe place for questioning.”

  I closed my eyes. So many questions. I wiggled my fingers. They moved, but only slightly. “I can’t do this every other week.”

  “Hopefully you won’t have to. Later—” Chandler checked his watch, “—today, we can meet up with Guardian and see what answers we can get. Then we can move on from there. Maybe we can move on the institute. Cut off the snake’s head.”

  “When will function to my arms return?” I asked.

  Chandler shrugged. “That you’ll have to ask Guardian. He is the one with powers to match yours.”

  “So, what should I do now?”

  “Just sleep. Do you need anything before I go?”

  I shook my head.

  “Okay, sounds good.” He turned and walked toward the door. “I’ll be back later today.”

  “Thank you,” I said, but when I looked at the door, he was already gone. I would have to make sure to thank him later. He was more helpful than he indicated he would be. His whispers, although confusing at first, probably saved my life. I closed my eyes. I didn’t have much of a choice. I could hardly move so sleep seemed like the most sensible action. With how exhausted I was, I thought sleep might come to me quickly, but it didn’t.

  I replayed the fight through my head, with questions running through my mind. Again, I wished my arms worked. I could have written them down to ask Chandler and this Guardian guy later. Eventually, my thoughts moved to Kristen’s face and a smile lifted my lips. My body relaxed ever so slightly, despite us not quite seeing eye-to-eye at the moment. But finally, I fell asleep.

  Twenty-Eight

  Kristen

  “Will . . . Will.”

  He finally stirred. He rolled over and peeked out of one eye. “Ugh, yes?”

  “Didn’t you want to talk?” I asked.

  “So early? It’s like—”

  “One,” I said. “Will, it’s one in the afternoon.”

  “Oh.” He rubbed his eyes and groaned as he sat up. “See, Kristen,” he said, trying to roll to the edge of the bed. “This is why I don’t do bars.”

  I handed him a water bottle I had brought down. His hand trembled as he took it. “Well, normally I would have been happy to let you sleep through the day, but Tracy invited me to visit Seattle with her.”

  Will had gotten both feet on the ground, elbows on his knees as he sat sipping the water. He looked up to me. “That’s up, right?”

  “North?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, Will, it’s north. How did you pass fifth grade?”

  He gave a pained grin and rubbed his temple before responding. “Okay, so you wanted to talk? Sure.” Will stood up on his second attempt and went to his dresser. He fumbled through it and found a shirt. I now knew that despite an impending talk, the sight of his body could still bring those familiar butterflies back. Once dressed, he asked, “So how was your night?” He sat back on his bed, still looking out of it.

  “It was good.” Had something happened after he left the bar? He moved like an old man riddled with arthritis. “Thanks for coming. Dare I ask how much of it you remember? Did something happen after you left?”

  Appearing lost in thought, Will sat there for a few seconds. He grabbed his phone and scrolled through it.

  “Does that mean you forgot everything?” I asked with a small smile.

  “Oh no, I just met two interesting people. Do you know an Adam or Anne?”

  I shook my head. Neither of us spoke for a minute.

  “So where does that leave us?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “Were you in a hurry? I don’t want to make you late.”

  That hurt. “Well, they are waiting outside, but they’d understand if we needed time.” He had a headache, but he was practically pushing me out the door. “If you want to talk later, when you aren’t hungover, we could do that too.” My world froze while I waited for a response. I wanted him to prove that not all guys put themselves first. I swallowed. I was still feeling bitterness toward him for not making it to the first party. Was I unfairly judging him?

  “Well, Kristen I really like you. I just feel I’m so messed up. I can’t go through another day of waiting for a text. It’s not your fault of course. I guess what I’m really trying to say is, I don’t know exactly what it is I need from you—or life in general. I don’t know if it even exists.”

  He was right. Will was thoughtful and sweet, but I could tell he wasn’t ready for a relationship, and I needed a lot of support after guys like Cooper. Perhaps that was unfair. “It’s a shame the people of our past have scarred us so badly that we can’t be complete for each other.”

  Will nodded, his jaw tight with tension.

  “So you just left without deciding on a damn thing?” Chris asked incredulously.

  “Yeah, we weren’t getting anywhere, anyway. We said we’d talk when I get back from the trip.”

  “And when are you getting back?” Tracy asked from the driver’s seat.

  “A week? I don’t know. You guys didn’t really tell me . . .” I said sheepishly.

  “Exactly. So you two just gave up. And you know it.” Chris huffed as she crossed her arms. “I was rooting for y’all. I dressed up as a waitress for no damn reason!”

  “It wouldn’t have worked.” I sighed, my hands busy playing with my fingernails.

  “Says who? You think you two are the only people in the world with emotional scars?” Tracy said.

  “Well, no but—”

  “There’s really no ‘but.’ You sit at home, doing your homework, and not making any progress. So you got rid of Cooper, and I applaud you for that.” Chris sarcastically clapped twice. “But, you just gave up at the first hint of trouble when you found someone worthwhile.”

  “Wait,” Tracy called out. “Did you tell him about your dad?”

  I shook my head in response, forgetting Tracy couldn’t see me from the driver’s seat. “Chris, don’t tell me she’s shaking her head.”

  “Oh, she is,” Chris answered. “I have half a mind to tell Tracy to turn this car around, Kristen. How do you expect to make any progress if he doesn’t know what has hurt you?”

  “It’s only been a week . . .” I protested.

  “A week is not the same for everyone. Clearly you two had a connection and can’t be compared to an average relationship.”

  “Well, what do I do now?” I asked.

  “Girl, at this point, I don’t know—I’m not Dr. Phil.” Chris sat back in her seat with a loud sigh.

  Twenty-Nine

  Will

  After Kristen left for Seattle, I didn’t wake again until four that afternoon. It was a shocking awakening due to Chandler being in my room again. Suddenly the events of the night before came crashing back to me. I had forgotten all about it when Kristen had been in here earlier. She would have wanted to know.
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br />   “Feeling any better?” Chandler asked, glancing at me from over one of my books. He was once again sitting at my desk.

  I moved my fingers and toes and sat up. “Looks like it.”

  “Good,” he said, placing the book down. “It’s time.”

  “For what?” I stared at him. I was in no condition to do anything strenuous. Plus, I would be no help with my mind bouncing off the impending loss of my pseudo-relationship.

  “Guardian thinks you’re ready to take over PISP.”

  “Um. Come again?”

  “You’re ready to get PISP off your back for good.”

  “In what way?” I frowned. I didn’t have much faith in my infiltration skills. I wasn’t exactly James Bond.

  “Guardian will let you know.” He smiled, his fingers playing idly with the book. “It’s funny how you think I have any influence in this.”

  “Am I allowed to say I’m not ready?” I asked.

  Chandler blinked twice. “That’s a good question. One moment.” He pulled out a phone and typed something out. We waited a brief minute before his phone buzzed. He turned to me again. “How much time do you need?”

  What did I need time for anyway? Recovery? Let my mind catch up to the fact that I’d killed four guys? Oh, shit. I killed four guys.

  “Guardian is willing to give you until Monday.” He stood. “Can you be ready by then?”

  “I—”

  “Well,” he interrupted me, “you’ll have to be.” Walking to the door, he gave me a charming smile. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “Get used to what?” I asked. But yet again, he was gone. Damn, get used to what? Take over PISP? How? Why?

  I sat in bed for an hour more after Chandler left. I was left in a festering pit of self-pity. The hangover, the regret of letting her go, and the confusion over what Guardian would have me do left me overwhelmed, leaving me to waste away for the rest of the day.