by Leah Cutter
But he still held Kyle’s hand as they walked down the alley together, stopping once to kiss passionately.
Shit. “No!” I cried out. I rushed at them, trying to get Kyle to stop.
Rushed right through them, too.
This was the past I was seeing. Not the future.
Hunter had been wrong.
I could see, yes, but not like him. The exact opposite of him, actually. While he saw the future, I was a post-cog. I saw what happened in the past.
The non-man wore a long black coat lined with red. He was tall and typically Nordic looking, blond with horsey teeth and a big nose and pale blue eyes.
And big hands. Kyle had always had a thing for guys with big hands.
The non-man wore something around his neck. It looked like a goth teenager’s spider bag.
Except this thing was alive. Its legs moved up and down the non-man’s chest, as if it was vibrating with excitement.
I got close enough to hear Kyle tell the man, “No pictures.” So it must have appeared as a camera to him.
What the hell was that thing? Hunter had never mentioned anything like that, that sometimes things didn’t appear as they were.
There was probably a lot Hunter didn’t know. Was the training for post- and pre-cogs so different? Was that why I’d been failing? Was that also why the squares just didn’t work for me?
I stepped back when Kyle and the guy got into it. They weren’t saying anything anyway. And while the non-man seemed to be just as much into it as Kyle was, at the same time, he was also detached. He wanted to stroke Kyle, wanted to watch him come.
Not a sight I’d wanted to see, that was for damned sure.
Still, I made myself stick around. For all the warnings I’d been given, I had to see.
It was over pretty quickly. The guy stepped back and dropped Kyle’s dick just as he started to shoot.
Was this when he gave Kyle the drugs?
The non-man picked the spider thing up from his chest, and held it out toward Kyle. A web formed, catching the last few drops of Kyle’s come.
Over Kyle’s harsh breathing, I could hear the click of a camera. Though what was really happening was the spider was shooting strand after strand of web around Kyle’s face, each sinking into his skin, though none of those marks had been seen on his body.
With a graceful sweep of his hand, the non-man gathered up the strands and tugged.
Again, I cursed Hunter for not being able to teach me exactly what I was seeing.
Because for all the world, it looked as though the non-man had just ensnared Kyle’s soul in that web, and was carrying it away with him.
Kyle slumped back, sliding down the brick wall, assuming the position I’d seen him in when the police had come to get me.
The non-man turned to go, his long coat flaring dramatically around him as he stalked forward.
Then he paused, turned directly toward me, his pale, ice-filled eyes boring into my soul. The skin along his jaw was covered in scars, as if his whole face had been badly burned.
I held myself very, very still.
All he did was wink at me, then stride down, disappearing before he reached the end of the alley.
I found myself shivering in the cold, but also panting as if I’d just run a mile.
Holy shit. What the hell had just happened? And was that why Sam had thought I was involved in Kyle’s death? Because I’d seen it?
I didn’t know what was going on. What I’d seen. How I was supposed to report that to the police.
Hunter wasn’t going to be of much help, since we saw different things.
I only knew one post-cog who might be able to help.
So I called Sam.
***
Amy merely smirked at me when I asked her to cover me when Sam came in.
Sam, of course, looked like a million bucks, with her perfect pale skin, her cheeks pinked from the cold, her mink still impressive as hell.
A million bucks that I could never afford.
Sam followed me without comment through the aisles of the store, down the hallway in the back and out into the alley. I immediately looked at the spot where Kyle had been lying. I wasn’t seeing his body any more.
I didn’t know if it would come back, if I’d get stuck in some kind of post-cog loop.
Sam waited patiently until I lit my cigarette before she asked, “What’s the big emergency?”
I told her everything. Going to get tested. Josh interrupting the flow. Hunter rescuing me. Taking the drugs. (She scowled at that. Damn it. Even her scowl was sexy.) The failed training.
“Then I get here,” I told her. I pointed to the spot where Kyle had lain. “And I saw it. I saw Kyle’s death. I saw everything.”
Understand crossed Sam’s face. “You’re a post-cog! Not a pre-cog. No wonder his training didn’t work.”
A tension I didn’t know I’d been holding suddenly released. “So it really is that different? He swore it wasn’t.”
“For most, it isn’t,” Sam admitted. “But there are some that need specialized post-cog training. It sounds like you’re one of those.”
“Okay. Good.” I paused, then said, “There’s more, you know.”
“Yes?” Sam asked, grinning.
I suddenly realized that she expected me to hit on her. Since I was no longer a mundane.
She was still out of my league, however.
“The guy who did it…” I paused. How the hell was I going to explain that camera-spider creature?
“It was a guy?” Sam asked. “You’re certain?”
I shrugged. “See, this is where it gets weird. Hunter called him a non-man. He didn’t look like a normal person. He looked more like a ghost. Could see through him and everything.”
Sam shook her head and sighed. “This is why it’s important you get real training. Ghosts are just that. Ghosts. They aren’t real. Hunter sees ghosts, doesn’t he?”
“He claims he sees more than one possible future,” I admitted.
“That’s just not possible, Cassie,” Sam said gently.
“But multiple universes—”
“Are just a theory. No one’s ever really seen beyond this world.”
I nodded. “Or so you say.”
“Look, I don’t know what you saw. But it wasn’t the truth, Cassie. It wasn’t what really happened,” Sam insisted. “It was the drugs, the way you were forced into your power. It won’t be the same once you get proper training.”
“Then help me now,” I said. “Give me the first lesson tonight, so I at least have a clue about what I’m doing.”
“That’s…actually a good idea,” Sam admitted. “So. Close your eyes. Were you able to find the blue dot?”
“That was always the easy part,” I told her. “What’s next?”
“See if you can send out lines from that blue dot. Like the spray from a water sprinkler,” Sam directed.
Finally. I knew that the squares were wrong. Clean blue lines spread out from the spot in the corner, each one taking on a weight and heft of its own, turning three-dimensional.
“Okay, what’s next?” I asked.
“Which one is strongest?” Sam asked. “And which one is weakest?”
That was really hard to tell. All the lines looked equally strong, equally valid.
Maybe this was why those who went through training only saw a single future.
No. It wasn’t possible to see multiple futures. Or multiple pasts. I had to do as Sam said.
“The strongest one is the one to the far right. No, one over from that,” I said. “The weakest one…to the far left.” It was difficult to tell. The lines kept shifting.
“Very good,” Sam said, as if she was praising a five year old.
I still felt warm under her approval.
“Now, follow the weakest one out,” she said.
“Why the weakest one?” I asked, finally just grabbing hold of the one that felt relatively weaker than the others.
&
nbsp; “So you don’t get overwhelmed,” Sam said.
That made sense. It also made me want to let go of it and grab hold of the strongest one.
I still did as she said, following out the weakest one.
When I opened my eyes, I saw the alley. It hadn’t changed. But there were different people there, now.
I instantly recognized the scene. It was after Kyle’s death. The body was no longer there. The tape was. As were a couple of uniformed officers.
“Are you seeing the crime scene?” Sam asked.
I nodded, looking around.
“Good,” Sam said. “Even though that was the weakest thread, it was still probably going to be the one you’d find.”
There I still was, being questioned, close to one end of the alley. Kyle and the ambulance were at the other end.
“Wait a second…” I said. Something was off.
I stalked down to the end of the alley.
That was me all right. Being questioned. And Sam was there.
However, it was no longer Ferguson. It was a lady cop.
***
“You couldn’t have seen an alternate past!” Sam insisted as we walked down the street. Travis had agreed to stay on so I could take a longer break.
“Then what did I see?” I asked, challenging her. “Because that would sure be the best explanation for it.”
“It must be the drugs,” Sam said stubbornly.
“The drugs are out of my system by this point,” I said. I no longer felt woozy or drugged. Head still hurt like a son of a bitch, but that was from when Hunter hit me.
I was still going to have to get back at him for that.
“It was how you were brought into your powers. With hallucinogenics,” Sam said.
I snorted at her. “That was one hell of a hallucination,” I told her. “Look, I’m not crazy.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, distrustful.
“I’m really not,” I told her. “I can distinguish reality and this present from the ghosts I see. But take my word for it. I do see ghosts.”
Sam shook her head. “If you’re right,” she said thoughtfully, “it means a lot of people, a whole lot of very smart people in the program, are wrong.”
“I bet it’s why Josh was so very interested in me. In Hunter. I bet they’re happy to take your rejects,” I told her.
Sam stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, looking stricken. “Do you think? No. They couldn’t. They wouldn’t.”
“Full sentences, please?” I asked, flirtatious.
Just because I was freezing cold and evidently a freak didn’t mean I didn’t have a pulse. And anyone alive, and quite possibly more than one ghost, would desire Sam.
Hell, I bet she could turn the heads of some of the straight girls I knew.
“Most of the blessed have variations in their abilities and range,” Sam said slowly. “The Jacobson Consortium keeps emphasizing consistency. Over everything else. The community disagrees. But the consortium argues that only a very narrow range of those with ability should be considered useful.”
“Which means those people will fall out of the government programs,” I said. “And into theirs.”
“I foresee some interesting conversations up ahead,” Sam purred as she started walking again.
I didn’t doubt it. I bet Sam knew some powerful people. And that she wasn’t afraid to use her power one bit.
A float passed by us on the street. It seemed a little late for that, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. It was close to the holidays. Maybe there was some kind of celebration going on.
Until I got a better look at the second float.
“Uhm. Sam? Is there a parade scheduled for tonight?” I asked.
“No. Why? What are you seeing?” she asked, sounding worried.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly.
The men marching beside the float wore chest plates of molded leather and metal helmets that covered their noses. They carried round shields painted red and green and blue, as well as great spears. A few even had axes and swords.
Now I realized the float was actually a war chariot.
This was an army marching into battle. A desperate one, too—the grimness on their faces was only matched by their determined stride.
“An army?” I said, looking at Sam.
I wasn’t sure when this had happened. But despite how the men were dressed, it didn’t feel like long ago.
It felt recent. Almost now.
“Cassie?” Sam asked.
Then I saw the non-men. They were tall—like parade-float high—their heads reaching the second and third floor windows. Despite the cold, they were bare-chested, with animal skins wrapped around their waists and boots made of soft leather tied to their feet. They looked brutish, with a bulging brows and tiny, piglike eyes. Each one carried a weapon to match their size, a spear or ax or club.
Then one breathed out, instantly freezing the air around him.
I hadn’t been into fairy tales as a kid. But this looked like a frost giant to me.
“There’s an inhuman army marching to war,” I finally told Sam, tearing my eyes away and looking at her.
Sam gave me a sad look. “You need help,” she said softly.
I watched the marching army for a long minute before turning back to her.
“No,” I told her. “I’m right. You’re not. And these men—they’re connected with the not-man who killed Kyle. There’s some kind of war going on.”
“You know what you sound like, don’t you?” Sam said.
“Just living up to my namesake,” I told her.
Sam stared out into the street for another moment before she shook her head. “You need help. And until you admit that, until you go in for proper training, I can’t help you anymore.”
“So you’re just going to run away instead of admitting that there might be more to your world than just your science,” I told her angrily.
“I’ve seen this before,” Sam said. “And I won’t—I can’t—live through it again.”
“Past girlfriend?” I asked spitefully.
“My brother,” Sam said. She turned and walked away, down the street. The shops continued to blare their happy holiday tunes. Men continued to march through the cars and passing pedestrians, heading to war.
I wanted to follow Sam. I did.
But I had to believe that I’d been chosen for a reason. That I could take on the title blessed because I really was. That these connections I saw were real.
I turned and followed the marching men. Either I was crazy, or the world was.
Or both.
Chapter Twelve
“Loki!” Odin called as he strode into the trickster’s hall. “What have you done?” he thundered. Mim’s warnings still echoed through Odin’s head. Fates had been changed. And lives, too. Now the frost giants were taking to the battlefield, one of the sure signs of the end of days.
What was Loki planning?
Loki’s hall was laid out similarly to Odin’s, long and narrow with a fire in the center and wide columns running down either side, but with subtle differences. Carved wolves, not snakes, encircled the wide columns, endlessly chasing the sun, the moon, and each other; the banners hanging from the tall rafters showed scenes of glorious battle, but also intimate bedroom scenes that were graphic enough to make even a god blush; and the front dais held a couch, not a chair.
“What do you mean?” Loki said, coming out from behind a pillar at the front of the hall. “I’ve just been trying to give you a good battle, Val-Father, as was part of our bet. Hasn’t Frigg been more attentive?” He still wore long robes in black and red, and a fine silver circlet on his long blond locks. His eye patch was made from finely tooled leather, with a decorative pattern of grapes embossed in silver on it.
Odin refused to be sidetracked. “I talked to Mim’s head. She told me of fates exchanged.”
At least Loki looked slightly worried at that news. But he smoothed the expression
away quickly. “Have you discovered the new end of days? You survive, now, past the final battle. It seems that you are neither dead nor alive in the belly of the wolf. So you will walk the shores of the new ocean with Baldur and Holdur.”
The words pounded into Odin’s chest like the strongest war hammer.
Everything Loki said was true.
How could that be? How did Odin survive the twilight? How could he live when the other gods died? How had Loki done such a thing?
“I didn’t know such a thing was possible,” Odin admitted, marveling. He could survive.
Then he stalked over to Loki and picked him up by the throat, carrying him up off the floor. Loki was tall and strong, but no match for Odin in a rage.
“Why?” Odin demanded, shaking Loki like a rag doll. He tightened his grasp around Loki’s neck, his fingers digging into the cool flesh. “Why would you do this?”
Loki gasped and struggled like a fish on a hook, trying to get away. “For you!” he managed to rasp out. “I did it for you!”
Disgusted, Odin tossed Loki to the floor.
Loki coughed and scooted back, away from Odin.
It gave Odin some satisfaction that the trickster was still afraid of him. Good. He would be more afraid still, if he didn’t confess.
“I did it for you,” Loki said again, still massaging his throat.
“I don’t believe you,” Odin said. “You’ve never thought of anyone other than yourself. Ever. Why would you try to save me?”
“If you survive, we survive,” Loki said. He at least sounded sincere. “You’ll be acknowledged as the greatest storyteller in the world after the final battle. You’ll wander the earth and tell everyone tales of the gods, both before and after the twilight. Through you, we’ll all survive.”
Odin heaved a great sigh. It was something he’d heard before: that even in this modern day, when they had no worshipers or sacrifices, the reason the gods survived was because of the stories still told about them.
They lived on while men still remembered them.
“But Baldur and Holdur—” Odin started to say.
“Not the same. And you know it. Even Thor’s sons, who may or may not also survive, won’t tell the tales like you will,” Loki said emphatically. He hesitated, drawing his legs in.