by Gwynn White
I’d never made money a huge priority in my life, though, so obsessing on how people with money lived seemed kind of counter-productive. I would have had to rethink a lot of things, if I wanted to make being rich a serious priority.
I found myself thinking now, though, how strange it would be, to be able to afford to stay in a place like this.
To my right, I noted a full kitchen with a stove, a full-sized refrigerator and a marble island. On the counter I saw a massive fruit basket with pieces missing, several bottles of red wine, some of them half-full, and a few bottles of substances that looked a lot harder than wine.
Simon the seer liked to drink. Good to know.
Real-wood dividers broke up the space to my left, separating out a work/office area with an enormous wall screen likely fitted with full-effects holograms, two recliners with built-in headsets, and what looked like a sensory-deprivation chamber, complete with the high-end liquid plasma that allowed for the full range of movement in virtual spaces.
I noted several doors, including one set in the wall beyond the office area, which likely led to the master bedroom. I wondered how many bedrooms the space had.
The main room even had a fireplace, along with a full set of living room furniture and a dining table. Someone must have known we were coming up, because the fireplace was already lit. I wondered if the upper floor concierge had gotten a call from the lobby that we were coming up, or if they just lit all of them at the same time every night.
After looking at a real-wood desk, made of a type of tree that was probably extinct outside of labs, I glanced over what was probably real-leather furniture and a rug that looked like it came from some kind of animal. I didn’t stop walking as I looked around.
I ended up back in front of the long window next to the balcony. I tried to relax, to just flow with all of this as I looked down at the city lights, focusing on another hologram of a half-naked woman right before it morphed into a puff of smoke.
Gazing out at that view and the fountain I could now see on the balcony, I realized I was exhausted, practically swaying on my feet. I knew it was late, but I also knew that wasn’t all of it. The come-down from adrenaline and whatever else was hitting me hard now.
Either way, I could tell my brain wasn’t working all that well.
“There’s a switch,” he said.
I started, turning.
Seeing my expression, he frowned slightly. “On the wall,” he clarified. “It makes the balcony opaque. If you wanted to go out there. It’s easier, if the transparency makes you nervous.”
I just stared at him for a moment, struggling to make sense of his words. Then, I found I understood. Looking back at the balcony, I thought for a minute, then shook my head.
“It’s okay,” I said, still looking at the view. “Inside is good.”
More than anything, I just wanted to curl up on that probably-real leather sofa and sleep. Weirdly, I wanted to do it with him––as in, I wanted him to join me, and sleep there with me.
Maybe it wasn’t all that weird. He’d just saved my life.
Maybe I was having a delayed reaction to that, too.
I was still standing there when he walked up to my side, handing me a glass. I don't know what I expected, but found myself grateful it was water when I brought it to my lips.
Downing the whole thing in one go, I handed it back to him, silently asking for another. He must have heard me. I watched him walk back to the kitchen to refill the glass, extracting a full-sized bottle of mineral water out of a steel-colored refrigerator that was better-stocked than mine at home. I was tempted to ask him what he had to eat.
He poured another glass for each of us while I watched.
After walking back and handing the first glass to me, he downed his own, then scrubbed his fingers through his hair. I found myself still watching him for some reason, unable to tear my eyes away. If he really was a seer, he was the first one I'd ever spent much time with, or talked to at all really, other than the two female seers today.
Looking at him now, I found myself really believing he was a seer, too.
After making a meandering circuit of the room, he stopped by one of the dining room chairs. I watched him take off the black jacket he wore, folding it over the same chair. I found myself staring at the gun harness wrapped around his shoulders, visible now that the jacket was gone. He tugged at the straps of that next, shrugging it off and setting it on the dining room table in front of the chair with his jacket.
Without looking at me, he wandered back towards the fireplace, lowering his weight heavily to one end of the couch I’d just been fantasizing about sleeping on. I watched him face the glassed-in fire, his expression unmoving.
He looked as tired as I felt.
I glanced at the gun harness he’d taken off, which was now closer to me than it was to him. Clearly, he wasn’t overly worried about me taking his gun and shooting him.
“DNA trigger,” he said, exhaling in a sigh as he leaned deeper into the couch. “But you’re right. It hadn’t occurred to me that you might shoot me. Well… until now.” He glanced back at me. “Do you want to shoot me, Alyson?”
“No,” I said, feeling my face warm. “Sorry. I’m trying to feel safe here. But this is… strange. I don’t know you. And as far as I can tell, you seem to be doing about ten illegal things, just in this room alone.”
He gave me a brief stare, as if thinking.
Then, he seemed to shake off whatever it was.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, looking back at the fire. “Will you come here?”
For a few beats of my heart, I only looked at him.
I wasn’t afraid of him hurting me. I wasn’t afraid of him at all in the usual sense, but something about being alone with him brought up a near-panic reaction in me anyway. That kiss still swam around somewhere in the back of my mind, but it wasn’t all that, either. Whatever I was feeling right then, it couldn’t be reduced to a simple attraction.
The thing between us felt… I don’t know.
Older. Deeper than any of those things.
It definitely felt more meaningful than a revenge kiss with a stranger, no matter how good that kiss was.
I couldn’t make up my mind what that feeling meant, or why he felt so damned familiar to me, but my heart was beating hard enough to make me feel light-headed.
Despite all of those things, I didn’t let myself hesitate for long.
Walking around the back of the couch, I sat on the other end.
Once I had, I felt a tangible relief, but not for the reason I’d expected. I’d forgotten my physical condition in all of the stress of being there alone with him. Now I was suddenly aware that my back had been killing me, and his couch was more comfortable than anything I’d had in any one of my many apartments. Wincing as I shifted to get even more comfortable, I folded one leg so I could face him easier, and sank back into the thick cushion with a sigh of my own, still clutching my water glass in one hand, and now the back of the couch with the other.
For a brief moment, I closed my eyes.
When I opened them, I found him watching me, a slightly less hard look on his face.
I waited.
I watched him look away, back towards the fireplace.
For a moment we only sat there, watching that fire together.
I wondered if his silence was some kind of power play at first, but when he frowned, his eyes focused inward still, I wondered if maybe he was reading my mind.
“A little,” he said, turning.
His deep voice made me flinch. An instant later, I heard his words.
“A little?” I said. “As in, you’re reading my mind a little?”
“Yes.”
I tried to smile, but it was more nerves than a real reaction. He didn’t smile back, so maybe he could sense that. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure how to respond to what he’d said. Again, it didn’t threaten me, although maybe it should have.
When I looked at his f
ace next, his eyes remained serious, studying the flames behind the glass wall.
“Look,” I said. “Don’t think I’m not grateful about tonight, because I am. I’m really grateful, so I’m sorry I didn’t say that before.”
I paused, waiting for him to look over.
He didn’t. Taking another breath, I plunged on.
“I’ve never really talked to a seer before,” I said. “Are they all like you?”
“Like me?” He turned, frowning slightly. “Like me, how?”
I bit my lip, then shrugged. “I didn’t mean any offense. It’s just… you don’t seem to be all that great with people, even with the mind-reading thing. And that woman today… Jewel? She was super polite, but not very direct. So I hope I won’t offend you if I just come out and say some things. Is that not done, where you’re from?”
His frown deepened. Then he shook his head, once.
“Blunt is fine,” he said.
I nodded, sighing. “Okay, good. Then I’ll just say it. If you really want to talk to me, I need words. You don’t have to read me, or mesmerize me or whatever. Whatever you want to know, I’m going to tell you. I don’t have any reason not to. Everything I might get busted for tonight, you’d be in a lot worse shape than me––”
He let out a humorless snort.
When I paused, he waved me on.
“Continue.”
I sighed, combing my fingers through my hair. “That was pretty much it. I was just going to add, I owe you. So I’d tell you whatever you wanted to know anyway, regardless of the race-crime side of things. And I’m not going to tell anyone anything about you. Ever. Even if it means me going to jail.”
I paused, then remembered something else.
“…A name would help, though.”
“I gave you a name,” he said.
“A real one, then. There’s no possible way your name is Simon. That seer at the fetish bar couldn’t even say it with a straight face.”
His frown deepened. I thought he was going to lapse back into silence, but after giving me a faintly puzzled look, he shrugged, making another of those vague gestures with his hand. He was wearing a ring, I noticed, on his smallest finger. It glinted silver, but didn’t seem to have any markings on it.
“Revik,” he said, exhaling. “Dehgoies Revik.”
“Revik? That’s your name?”
“Yes.”
I folded my arms, wincing a bit when the motion pulled at my sore back. “Is there anything else I need to know about you? You’re not really SCARB, are you?”
He grunted, swiveling his gaze towards me.
“No,” he said.
I waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t.
Leaning deeper into the couch cushions, I winced again until I got comfortable. “Okay. Well, I guess I should tell you next that I’m really exhausted… Revik. What is it you want to talk about that can’t wait for a shower, some aspirin, a few hours of sleep and about a gallon of coffee? Or were you afraid I’d go to the cops? Or get picked up once surveillance caught up with me? Are you worried I’d tie us both to that scene in the park?”
His expression grew serious. I saw the tautness there again, just before he gestured vaguely with the same hand.
“All right,” he said. “I have a problem.”
“A bigger one than you and I being picked up by SCARB for suspicion of race crimes and/or terrorism?” I said. “…Or by the NYPD for murder?”
“Different,” he said, giving me another sideways look.
When he didn’t say anything more, I sighed.
“Revik… seriously. I’m trying really hard to stay awake for whatever you want to talk about up here, but I’m ready to drop. You’re going to end up with a woman snoring on your couch if you don’t talk pretty soon.”
Nodding, he folded his arms, facing me.
“All right.” His eyes and voice grew serious. I heard his accent get stronger, too. “This was a big mistake for me. The whole thing.” As if seeing the puzzlement in my eyes, he added, by way of clarification, “…An accident, Allie. One I’d prefer my handlers didn't know about. At least not in full.”
“Your handlers.” I relaxed slightly. “I was beginning to think you didn’t have any. Who are they? Law enforcement?”
“No.” He shook his head, frowning. “No… nothing like that. I work overseas for humans. I’m not here for them. I’m here for other seers.”
“Other… seers?”
He clicked under his breath, sounding faintly annoyed now. “This is why I did not know where to start. You are so full of misinformation about how things work, believing everything on the corporate feeds about seers and how we are contained, it will take all night just to get you to understand the basics of what our options are––”
“Hey,” I said, sharp. “You don’t need to call me stupid. Just explain.”
“I am explaining. And I didn’t call you stupid. Just ignorant.”
I started to answer.
Then, reconsidering, I shut my mouth with a snap.
“Anyway, it is not your fault,” he added, his voice subdued. “You are less ignorant than most humans I encounter… and less deliberately prejudiced than many seers. I did not mean to insult you. I am only frustrated by our lack of time.”
I wasn’t sure how to take that, either.
There was a silence.
I bit my lip, then relaxed with an effort, waving for him to continue.
“So? I’m ignorant, and you made a mistake,” I said. “What was your mistake?”
“All of it.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
Again, I waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t.
“So?” I said. “What does that mean? How was this your mistake, versus the mistake of the religious nuts who tried to burn me alive?”
He smiled faintly. “I’m fairly certain they intended to tie you to that log.”
When I frowned, opening my mouth to speak, he waved away his own words, his smile fading.
“I didn't realize how dangerous they were,” he said. “I failed to recognize their intent sooner, and the extent of their resources. It was a mistake not to have SCARB pick them up, the instant I knew they were in New York. Before that, really. I should have had them picked up in San Francisco, as soon as I got their faces off you.”
“Faces off me?”
He nodded. “When I held you off that bomb. Your mind went to them at once. I don’t know if it was subconscious, but you suspected them from the beginning for that.”
“Did they do it?”
He shrugged. “SCARB is still working on it. I’ll give them information on what I found out here.”
I frowned. “I thought you didn’t––”
“––I don’t work for SCARB.” He gave me a level look, a faint warning in his eyes. “But they have better resources than I do, even through my current employer. I should have contacted them sooner, as I said, but I didn’t want the World Court opening a file on you related to race-crimes. Not even for this.” Exhaling, he sank deeper into the couch. “I thought I could keep you safe on my own. Then I lost you in the club… and again outside of it. Both my fault. I let the drama with you and Jaden distract me.”
Clicking under his breath, he gave me a flat look.
“…In all honesty, I should have never let you get on the damned plane. I should have had SCARB hold everyone outside the terminal for a few days. Or at least until I’d ID’d those men who seemed to be tracking you. But again, I didn’t want you interrogated by IPF.”
I frowned. I knew IPF was the military branch of SCARB, short for “Interracial Peacekeeping Forces.” They handled international racial terrorism.
I opened my mouth to ask, but he shrugged again, his eyes sliding out of focus as he seemed to be thinking aloud.
“I try to err on the side of non-interference when I can,” he said, making another of those vague, graceful gestures with his hand. “And, well, I didn’
t want you to have to miss a trip to New York with your friends, just because a few human religious fanatics decided to fixate on you. It’s not like stalkers are a new thing with you.”
Drumming his fingers on the couch’s armrest, he shrugged again, as if still thinking.
“Anyway. You seemed like you needed a vacation. You hadn’t had one in over a year, and I knew if you were detained, you wouldn’t get your money back for the flight, so…”
Trailing, he glanced at me, as if remembering I was listening to all of this.
Looking away an instant later, he blew out his cheeks a little, making that soft clicking noise as his eyes returned to the fire.
“You think IPF was on this?” I said. “So you don’t think they were local?”
“They weren’t local,” he said, frowning faintly. “I got that much off the fanatic chained to the log, but I suspected it even in San Francisco, based on what my initial tracks picked up. Now I know for sure that their ‘Patrón’ is based in South America. The human boy wasn’t sure where, but he knew the continent. A few of the others were from Eastern Europe. So definitely an international organization of some kind.”
Pausing, he made a gesture with one hand I couldn’t interpret, but that looked almost like a shrug.
“…I’m still not sure where the human faction is based,” he added. “I’m pretty sure their ‘Patrón’ is a seer, though, since he’s been screwing with their dreams. It sounded like he’s been manipulating and pushing them for years.”
“A seer?” I said, surprised. “Do you know him? This Patrón seer?”
He gave me an incredulous look, snorting. “No. Do you?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that, so I sank back in the couch, waiting.
“…I did call in to my own handlers,” he added, glancing at me. “The seers, I mean. Not my human employers. They weren’t exactly thrilled with all of this, either.”
“Your seer handlers, you mean?” I said. “They weren’t thrilled with this?”