by G. K. Lund
I ran for the nearest building which was the office, finding the door closed, my brain in overdrive, forgetting to think. Gary had locked the damn door. I had been standing next to him, watching it. I forced myself to calm down, hearing Agent Larkin moaning in pain where I’d left him. I had a second to think. Get inside, find a weapon, hide. I couldn’t simply attack this guy. Everything I did to him could get me arrested. It would only be an excuse for him.
I moved around the corner, finding a window that wasn’t closed properly. I’d have to have a talk with Gary about security. I scrambled into his office, hoping the agent would think I’d run away.
I landed on the floor as inelegantly as possible, head first, legs up against the wall. I got up and closed the window, moving through the office in the dark, which was thicker in there. I found nothing that would help me and moved into the next room where I’d met Gary mere minutes earlier. I systematically searched the place, calming my breath by sheer will as I worked.
A scraping sound caught my attention, making me stop everything. I listened intently. Was I not alone in the building, either?
It came again, this low but distinct sound.
The realization made me turn toward the front door. Someone was picking the lock. I drew breath hard. Damn, the man did not give up easy. I looked around helplessly. If he used a flashlight he would see me at once. No use hiding by the door. That was the first place I’d look if I was the one coming in. I went toward the desk that sort of functioned as a reception, hiding behind a thin partition next to it that halfway divided the large room.
Hell. No weapon against an angry agent with a gun. He wouldn’t let his guard down now. Not again.
The lock clicked and the door slid open. No flashlight, but the room became, not lighter but grayer, perhaps. A small nuance really, making shapes more visible, but that was all.
I heard him come in, but he said nothing. Walked steadily as I crouched behind the wall, keeping as still as I could, not making a sound. Barely breathing.
The steps came closer, then I could make out a gun, arms, and the agent coming past the wall. He stopped a moment, gun toward the area behind me, and I realized he couldn’t see me. And then the strangest thing. The room, in general, smelled like coffee, metal, and motor oil, but a soft scent–citrusy, earthy–reached my nose.
Familiar.
I looked at the figure again. Unless Agent Larkin had grown six inches in the last couple of minutes, that wasn’t him.
I recognized him. We’d been walking through forests a whole day, cleaning up and changing clothes at Mrs. Williams, and yet that fragrance had been on him that night in the safe house.
Realization dawned on me as I involuntarily drew breath. Hansen was here with Agent Larkin.
He must have heard me. He stopped moving a few feet to my left.
“Evans?”
Yup, that was him.
Get the fuck out of my head.
I couldn’t deal with this. I got up on my feet and bolted for the now open door to my right, banking on him not shooting me, either. I heard him shouting my name after me, but didn’t hesitate. I had no control of where Agent Larkin was, so I simply headed toward the river. I sprinted as fast as I could, managing to avoid stumbling over the various clutter on the ground. How was I supposed to follow orders and handle a cop who was already working with my enemy?
I heard footsteps behind me, but I didn’t turn to check if it was only Hansen or the both of them. I kept running, heading straight for the river. The footsteps behind me slowed a bit. He probably thought the river would stop me as a natural barrier.
Wrong.
I had been here before a few years ago. I knew exactly what to do. I pushed on, keeping up the speed, and when close enough, I dove. I soared through the air a moment, actually smiling at the sensation, hearing him yelling my name somewhere behind me.
I hit the water with a shallow dive, not wishing to break my neck. The water was deep, but not deep enough to go straight down with your head first. The cold water hit me like a punch to my whole body, but despite it being early fall, I knew it wouldn’t kill me. I remained under the surface, the stream already moving me as I kicked my shoes off, making swimming easier. I kept myself under the surface as long as possible. The good thing about rivers is there’s only one direction to go if you let the water take charge. In this case, that was down toward the town center and eventually the bay.
I broke the surface and drew breath, the cold embracing me like a horny drunk. Still, as I floated on my back a moment, and looked back toward Gary’s lot, I saw a figure standing on the river bank.
Get out of my head. Get out.
Shit. I had made him hate me. The worst part was that I didn’t really blame him. I forced myself to think of something else, and started swimming both to keep moving so as to avoid freezing and to get away faster. Well, I thought as I was taken into town anyway, Tegan was getting a house guest tonight.
Chapter 3
I awoke in dry clothes, feeling warm and comfortable the next morning, a crunching sound being the culprit in disturbing my slumber. I looked up, eyes heavy with sleep, and saw Tegan at the kitchen counter staring at me with a no-good smile on her lips, happily chewing cereal.
“You had a sex dream,” she proclaimed and had another spoonful.
“What?” I stuttered, grasping for a dream that was out of my reach as consciousness claimed my attention.
“Dude,” she said, pointing at me with her spoon. “You totally had a sex dream.”
“Stop saying that,” I mumbled, starting to realize what she was implying. I rubbed my eyes a moment, also realizing Gerard and Annalise had been right. I’d slept heavily the night through, and the food last night had done me good. Despite feeling like I could sleep the whole day, I actually felt better than yesterday.
“So?” Tegan pressed as I sat up on her couch, blankets all around me. “Who was it about?”
“Gary,” I said, glad she’d asked. That meant I hadn’t mentioned names in my dream.
Tegan snorted. “Fine. Don’t tell me. Anyway…what do you think?” She indicated her hair, which was bright red. I was sure it had been its usual black last night.
“You did that now? How long have I been asleep?”
“It’s almost noon. You’ve been sleeping like a rock, until the end there.” She gave a knowing smirk at that.
“Yes, thank you,” I said, and looked at her hair again. The red was too bright to be natural, but with the curls and waves of her bangs, it looked stylish, as it always did with her. She had a light blue dress on, slim waist, and big skirts. Eye make-up heavy and lipstick bright red. “You’re unusually dolled up today,” I said.
She shrugged. “I have a date after work. And I have a later shift. No time to go home in-between.”
Lucky her. I had apparently dreamed of the guy who’d been chasing me with a gun.
Way to look out for warning signs, Margaret.
I sighed and got up from the couch, joining her in the kitchen corner of her apartment. “It looks nice,” I said. “It’s very you.”
She smiled happily, knowing I meant it, despite us looking like complete opposites every day. Diving into rivers and the likes didn’t make it easy to wear anything especially pretty.
“Anyway,” she began, “there’s cereal, or you can help yourself to anything you like.”
I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. Tegan was one of my true friends in Ashport, and the thought of having to leave her as well got at me a moment. She was the kind of friend who would let you in without question, standing at her door, no shoes and dripping wet. She’d even bought a bigger couch a couple of years back, stating that I’d better have space to stretch out. She was an affiliate and we’d gotten to know each other that way. Her apartment was a place I could go, not only because she owed me a favor and I kept a stash of clothes there. Which I did of course, but that was beside the point. No, we’d become friends and liked each other’s co
mpany.
“Are you all right, Maggie?” she asked, picking up on my hesitation.
I swallowed hard again and nodded assuredly. “Yeah. Just tired.” I wanted to tell her everything. She knew about Andrea and Yorov, of course. By now I figured every affiliate in town did. But she didn’t know the rest and I didn’t want to worry her. I wanted her to enjoy her day. Her worrying wouldn’t help me anyway.
“So, what’s on your agenda today?” she asked, handing me a bowl and spoon.
“Gerard’s got me checking out a guy who has fallen into some kind of coma,” I said, the disinterest unhidden in my voice. If he was in a coma, he could wait, and what could I do about it anyway?
“Really?” she said, seeming more interested than I had expected.
“What?”
She shrugged. “It might be nothing, but Dr. Morris has an affiliate patient in some weird state at the hospice.”
“What kind of state?” I asked, suddenly a little interested despite myself. Tegan worked as a nurse at the Ashport Hospice. When affiliates got hurt and needed a doctor that wouldn’t involve the police, we didn’t go to the hospital. We went to the hospice where we had an affiliate doctor working. If she had a patient now, it meant there was something about him the police were not supposed to know about.
“Not sure,” Tegan answered. She didn’t work exclusively with Dr. Morris and she was only called in to help if the doctor needed assistance. “But it seems to be some sort of permanent non-responsive state.”
I made a note of that. It might be worth checking into. First, however, I had to do as Gerard had said.
“Anyway,” Tegan continued, putting her cereal bowl in the sink. “I’m off.”
“Be careful out there,” I said on reflex.
She smiled as she swung her coat around her. “Come on, Maggie. I get that Yorov are here, but they wouldn’t be interested in me anyway. My thought control is too weak.”
She was right. With regards to humans anyway. Still, considering that they had kidnapped the wrong person, you could never know.
“The only way I’ll be late for work today is if you’ll tell me who that dream was about,” she said, her smile wide.
“Fuck off,” I laughed and watched her blow me a kiss before she opened the door and left. She could lift my spirits all right, but no way was I telling her I’d slept with a cop. Even Tegan would balk at that. She did know about my working for them now and then. It had been sanctioned by the Community authorities. It had all been Chief Mulligan’s idea. She’d more or less guilted me into it after helping her with her kid. Convinced me I might do some good, and I had, of course, fallen for it. The thought of being able to help had gotten the better of me. And the authorities had agreed, reluctantly, though still thinking a positively inclined police chief might be a good thing. Turned out the police chief wasn’t the problem. The first time I’d met Hansen was after helping out Detective Bowman a couple of times. My first impression had been…a little too positive, I guess. He was a looker, that one, with the tall, fairly dark and quite handsome thing going for him. Light brown hair, bone structure to kill for. Yup, I’d been suckered in until he’d opened his mouth making it clear he didn’t like me being called in to help out when an interrogation was going nowhere. I wasn’t a cop, and he had never liked my method. Not that he’d known the truth of course. I knew he’d thought I did cold reading, not a bad guess actually, but the truth it was not. His dislike had made me resent him. I had enjoyed making him uncomfortable as he retained his professionalism all the time. So when he’d lost it, yelling accusations at me at the police safe house a few nights ago, I’d been truly surprised when he’d gotten too close, his breathing changing, pupils dilating. All clear-cut signs. Old habit had made me egg him on, and I’d been astonished when he didn’t back down, which in turn had made me refuse to do so as well.
The night had been intense and fiery, interspersed with resentment and an odd sense of antagonism. Yet, there had been moments of consideration as well. Him pulling me back against him, lips brushing my neck, holding me up with a strong arm, his other hand working me into a frenzy. While joined together, I’d felt him struggle to restrain himself against my movements.
A clink as my spoon fell down into the bowl startled me back to the present. What the hell was wrong with me? I had serious problems, and the guy who hated my guts wasn’t even at the top of the list.
“Focus, Margaret,” I told myself, forcing down some cereal, not enjoying the boring taste, but knowing I needed some fuel. I knew what I had to do. Keep my head down, do what the Community demanded, and in return, hope they found even a semblance of a clue as to Andrea’s whereabouts.
Easy peasy.
Right.
Chapter 4
I had barely rang the doorbell before the front door opened. I had clearly been expected and instantly felt bad I’d slept in that morning. A woman with a warm and dark-sepia skin and steel-gray hair looked at me with what I could only call despair.
“You’re the mender?” she asked.
I nodded. “I’m Maggie. Gerard sent me.”
The woman stepped aside, holding the door open for me. “Please come in, Maggie. I’m Mona.” She was polite, but there was a sense of urgency in all of her few words.
I decided to skip any pleasantries and get to it. “What’s the problem, Mona?”
She looked grateful a moment, before taking my hand and leading me upstairs to a bedroom. It seemed like the room of a high school boy, posters and video games, a guitar in one corner, but on the bed lay a man, not a child. College age, I thought. Perhaps home visiting his parents?
“Your son?” I asked Mona as I stepped closer.
“Yes, this is Jake,” she said and followed me. I could see the resemblance, especially around the eyes and nose. Likely, there was something of his father in him, too. What was strange was that while he lay in bed, the covers tucked tight around him, he wasn’t asleep. His eyes were open, and they followed me.
“Hello, Jake,” I said, trying for a friendly smile, but I got no response. He only kept looking at me. “What happened to him?” I asked his mother. “Gerard didn’t go into detail, but he said it was recent.”
She nodded and took her son’s hand in hers. His eyes moved to look at her, but that was all. “Two days ago. His father and I went out for dinner, and Jake was out with friends. All I know is he came home before us, and we found him like this in the living room downstairs.”
“Any sign of a break in?”
“The front door was wide open, but otherwise, no. Nothing was stolen.”
I looked at Jake. He seemed conscious but unable to speak or move. Like a horrible nightmare come true. I sat down next to him on the bed, seeing his eyes turn back to me. “Can you communicate in any way, Jake?” I asked. He blinked once and I looked at his mother for clarification.
“He’s in there,” she began, saying the words more to herself than me, I expected. “We figured out that when he blinks once, it means yes. Twice means no.”
I nodded my understanding, turning back to him. I had a quicker way of getting information from him, though. I had learned over the years to keep my use of it to the most necessary cases. I knew it was a violation to hear people’s most private thoughts. I’d met enough empaths in my time to know what it was to be on the other end of the stick, at least to some extent. Feeling someone’s emotions often got you pretty close to what they thought of something, but with me, there was no doubt. I could hear it word for word. I could hear what was not meant for me or anyone but those who were thinking the thoughts.
Get the fuck out of my head.
With Jake, I really had no choice. However, if he didn’t know that I read his mind, he would likely not go to thoughts he didn’t want me to hear.
“Did someone attack you, Jake?” I asked trying to lead his attention to the reason I was there. To what I wanted to listen in on. I barely noticed his blinking once, as I looked into his eyes, concent
rating on hearing him. It’s hard to describe how it works. I could turn it on and off at will, but the mechanism itself…well, it’s like when you decide to focus on a sound…or when you consciously tell your arm to move. It required me to maintain eye contact…that is to say, I have to see the person’s eyes. People call them the mirror to the soul, but to me, they’re like the loudspeakers of the conscious brain. When I had that and decided to listen in, people’s voices would come to me like a radio had been turned on. But as I looked at Jake, there was nothing. Like he’d been switched off. That had never happened before.
“Can you pick up something?” Mona asked me, looking hopeful.
Yeah, that was the thing. Except for Gerard, Annalise, Rob, Tegan, and Chief Mulligan…and Hansen, no one knew of my true ability. It usually made people uncomfortable and downright afraid, and unless I trusted them and vice versa, I didn’t tell anyone. It was generally believed in the Community that I was an empath. They were much more tolerated as well as common. And as close to the truth as I could get.
“Unfortunately not,” I answered Mona. “It’s like he’s closed off on the inside as well.” I sighed and went ahead. We had to do this the old-fashioned way and ask yes and no questions.
“Is Jake an affiliate?” I asked Mona as she walked me downstairs to the front door sometime later. She looked a little taken aback at the question, which let me know he didn’t get it from her.
“Yes,” she said. “It comes from his father’s side.”
“Every generation?”
“No. Before Jake, it had been a couple of generations. We actually had to ask his grandparents when he started developing his skills.”
I nodded. That was not unheard of. Abilities usually ran in families, and like green eyes could skip a generation, so could abilities.
“One last question,” I said, but Mona beat me to it.
“He can control people’s minds,” she whispered and must have seen a reaction on my face because she hurried to put my mind at ease. “Not uncontrollably. He can turn it off. He’s a good boy,” she added in the end.