Lagniappes Collection II

by Cradit, Sarah M.

  “I… uh… I’m not sure, honestly. It was totally my fault, th—”

  “No kidding. Not paying attention?” My natural instinct was to penetrate his thoughts and read them, a skill I’d had since before I possessed memories. In rare cases, the subject of this unknown assault couldn’t be breached. Unfortunately, this was one such case, so I had to rely on my everyday instincts.

  Right away, I assessed he wasn’t interested in my answer. His questions were designed to humiliate me or add shame to the list of problems that would mount once I called my own agent.

  He was a bully. Great.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, coming around the answer with one more relevant to the situation. “This was my fault, and you won’t get any trouble from me.”

  He didn’t wait for me to offer my insurance card. Instead, he snatched it from my hand.

  “You’re not from here.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Your insurance says you live in New Orleans, Louisiana.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I’m a college student at PSU. They don’t make college kids change their residency, and anyway, I’ll be going home after I graduate in the spring.” I didn’t owe him an explanation. It wasn’t on the list of items on the wallet card titled “Oh No! You’ve Been in an Accident! Now What?” that my mother made me carry after accident number two.

  Then again, rambling was a secondary strength of mine, behind wrecking things.

  “Portland State is a strange choice of school for someone who comes from a state with some of the best colleges in the nation. If you wanted to come to Oregon, why not Oregon State or U of O?”

  “They offered me a full scholarship.”

  “For what?”

  The drilling line of questions meant he was okay, at least. I sighed. “Basketball.”

  He lifted one of his brows in response, an action bloated with far more suspicion and judgment than any of his words thus far. I didn’t like the unspoken dialog behind his eyes. I almost preferred the screaming businessman because he left nothing to interpretation.

  Yet there was something else about this man. Something I couldn’t put my finger on. The thought rested in the back of my mind. Waiting.

  I pointed toward my Camry. “I have a pen in my center console so we can copy down each other’s information. I’ll call my agent right away and let them know it’s my fault.” I wouldn’t need the pen for myself. One of the benefits of having a photographic memory.

  Which was rare, yes, but also the least of the bizarre gifts I was born with.

  The last words hadn’t left my tongue before he had his phone out, taking pictures. First of my insurance card, but then he made his way around my car and his bike, clicking away, scrutinizing. Following that, he circled to the other side, phone still in front of him. “What’s your address?”

  “My address? Why?”

  “I’m going to send you the pictures I took of the damage, so you can’t accuse me later of making anything up.”

  I made no attempt to stop the rise of heat in my face. “I already apologized and told you it was my fault.”

  He squared his stance. “And we both know it’s far easier to deceive someone when they’re not standing in front of your face. This isn’t your first accident, is it, Autumn?”

  Before I could stop myself, I reached over and snatched whatever he’d shoved in his pocket. Squinting, I read his info from his ID card, memorizing it before he could take it back. “Look, Gabriel, if it would make you feel better, we can call the cops and let them make a report, but I’m not interested in standing around downtown in the rain arguing over something senseless. I said it was my fault. I’m not going to make this any more difficult than it needs to be.”

  Gabriel ripped the plastic from my hands. He shoved it into his front jeans pocket, likely assuming I wouldn’t be so quick to venture there. “We don’t need to involve the police,” he answered quietly. “Are you going to give me your address or not?”

  “Or not.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Fine, Autumn. Have it your way. This is where I should tell you my family is in law enforcement.”

  I met his gaze. “Oh? Is that a threat? This is where I should tell you my mother is a lawyer.”

  Gabriel laughed. “And that means either one or both of us is lying.”

  “If you lived in New Orleans, you’d know the name Sullivan without me having to explain another word.”

  “This isn’t New Orleans. And all I’m saying is, I’m not going to take any funny business from you. I don’t care if your mom is a lawyer or the President of the United States. I want my bike fixed, and I don’t want to deal with some vapid college girl who was more than likely texting her boyfriend. I didn’t need this, and I sure as hell didn’t ask for it.”

  You don’t know a damned thing about me, you arrogant ass, I wanted to say. Had it loaded and ready to go.

  Instead, I affected a slow and deliberate salute and then marched back to my car without another word.

  In hindsight, it was a ridiculous, even childish response.

  But how was I to know he would be in the passenger seat of my car two minutes later?

  II

  This wasn’t at all how I imagined our first meeting would go.

  Eons ago, when I was new at this, I would create and evaluate an entire plan before engaging my assigned Ephemeral. In those days, I even enjoyed my duties. To observe my intervention having a positive effect on others was all the reward I required.

  Time had a way of changing situations.

  If I’d wanted to teach her a harsher lesson, I’d have allowed my accident to appear worse. I let her off easy. She had to be wondering where my rudeness had come from, alongside my justification at employing it in her direction. Hell, I wondered the same thing myself. Something about her crawled under my skin and nagged at all my worst tendencies, and she looked at me as if guessing that very thing.

  I would know for sure if I could read her mind. But, for the first time in more than a thousand human years, I’d come across a charge whose mind was entirely blocked to me.

  The lesson was designed to end with the accident. One of many chance encounters we could employ for our Ephemerals, and it was often the easiest in terms of forcing interaction. I would then observe her for changes in behavior. In the absence of any, I would return for another observation, and do so until I could assess whether she was destined. This was our way. It always had been.

  Her blocked mind didn’t just confuse me; it drew me in. I had to know. She was so unlike any of the others, but I didn’t understand why.

  Raphael never gave me the details when transcending the Order, leaving his Ephemeral charges to me. Never reviewed any of his case notes with me before he rushed off, eager to lead his own Cavalry, the sixth of us to do so. He never said anything about Autumn Sullivan being different.

  But she was.

  And so I climbed into her passenger seat and demanded a ride.

  “What on Earth are you doing?” Autumn demanded.

  “I can’t very well ride my bike now,” I grouched. As far as she knew, this was true.

  She slapped both hands on the wheel and lowered her head so her forehead was touching. “Where, exactly, were you headed?”

  I couldn’t end this session. Not yet. With all these roadblocks in her assessment. “Where are you going?”

  Autumn lifted her head and gaped at me, blinking. “I asked where you wanted to go.”

  “Wherever you’re going.”

  “Listen—”

  I sensed the can of mace in her purse. You never got used to that sting, no matter how many times it happened.

  All right. Course correction.

  I rolled my eyes into the back of my head and passed out.

  III

  Oh, hell.

  Did I give him a concussion? A brain bleed? Any other number of unseen killers following a trauma?

  The nearest hospital was twenty minutes away in current tra
ffic. But my apartment was only one block. And my hands…

  No, stop. You can’t just heal a stranger. You know what could happen.

  Screw drawing attention to myself. I did this to him! What if he dies?

  You have insurance for that.

  You can’t be serious.

  Call 9-1-1 and walk away.

  I can’t just leave him here!

  Don’t forget the Supernatural marathon waiting for you.

  “Shut it,” I told the dueling angels yammering on in my brain.

  I could not call my mother for advice on this. Since we were old enough to walk and process thought, she had warned my twin brothers and I against using magic. Not because it’s wrong, but because others will see it that way. People fear what they can’t understand or see, and people hurt the things they fear.

  What would my brother Aidan say?

  Do the right thing, of course. That was his answer to every single one of life’s conundrums, context regardless.

  I could afford to be more like Aidan, especially after today.

  And there was still that trifling memory in the back of my head attaching itself to Gabriel the moment his face came into full view.

  Maybe important, maybe not.

  Fifteen minutes later, Gabriel Randolph opened his eyes.

  Looking up at me from my couch, he smiled.

  IV

  Did I ever have words for Raphael!

  He had this Ephemeral under his thumb for fifteen years. Fifteen whole years of observing and protecting, of watching her every moment and documenting all things trivial and essential.

  No reports of concern had been made to the Order on Autumn Anabella Sullivan. Raphael’s notes had been dry and formulaic. Ephemeral attended school from 07:35 to 15:45. No incidents to report. Over and over. Fifteen years’ worth.

  Not a word about her being a shaman. Not a single drop of ink spent on how this particular creature radiated with magic enchantment. When he’d completed his tenure as a recruiter, he’d said simply, Nothing of note, Gabriel.

  What else had he failed to mention?

  More importantly, did the Order know any of this when they sent me on this mission?

  That she could see me was the first confirmation the Ephemeral hadn’t de-manifested. The phenomenon of an Ephemeral losing their powers once the last of their childhood left them was not uncommon. A bicycle accident was the essential first test. My mocking her on everything from her behavior, to not being from the area, and the demand for her address, was all part of appearing human. Should she suspect I was anything other than who I appeared to be, things would go south in a hurry.

  Autumn seemed oblivious to who I truly was, but that was only a small consolation.

  She was a shaman. And likely many other things as well, ones Raphael also failed to report. I would need to surface these truths before moving forward with my assigned task.

  First order of business, though, to address the wide, fearful eyes looking down at me.

  “Thank goodness,” Autumn whispered, settling back into the chair beside the couch. She slumped as if she were Atlas shrugging off the weight of the world.

  “Didn’t mean to scare you,” I muttered, watching her, but carefully. How she perceived me in these next few moments would be essential to carrying out my assessment.

  “I didn’t mean to crash into you with my car like an idiot.” I raised an eyebrow and started to laugh, but stopped when I observed her crestfallen expression.

  “So, basketball.”

  “Sorry?”

  “That’s what you do here. Play basketball.”

  Autumn recoiled slightly. “I’m also a student. I’ll be in law school in the fall. Loyola.”

  I studied her. “You seem embarrassed, or perhaps ashamed, to be known for athletics over scholastics. Why is that?”

  Her lips twisted. “It isn’t that I’m ashamed, I just don’t like the way you said basketball. As if I wasn’t smart enough to get into college on my intelligence.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Didn’t have to.”

  “Surprising is all. You’re not very tall.”

  Autumn’s eyes widened. “Neither was Muggsy Bogues.”

  There was only so much preparation we could do. “Who?”

  “I guess you’re not as a basketball fan.”

  I attempted to sit, exaggerating the degree of effort so as not to blow my cover over a small, but important, detail. Autumn lunged forward like a panicked mother, easing me back down.

  “You need to rest for a while longer, I think,” she said, her tone unsure. Was she even fully aware of how her healing gift worked? She may very well be wondering why I wasn’t skipping off in perfect health. Hopefully, as yet, some mystery remained to her. I’d need that if I had any hope of getting her to let me stay.

  “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” I answered. Uriel often chided me on my rough delivery with Ephemerals. You act as if you have little more to offer than your quick criticisms. Spend more time in observation. It will only help you as a guardian.

  Autumn shrugged, rising. Her hands brushed against the sides of her cardigan, a nervous habit I’d seen hundreds of times in others. “Want some water?”

  “I would love some. Thank you.”

  She returned and handed me the glass. When she sat down, this time, her posture was less rigid. “So, where do you live?”

  “Around.”

  “Around? Your ID was military.”

  I smiled carefully. “I can’t remember the last time I called a single place home.”

  Autumn didn’t take the smile bait. “All right, but where do you go home every night?”

  “Truth is…” Not the truth, but atonement would come later. “Nowhere. I’ve been on the open road for some time. Just me and my bike.”

  She dropped her head. “And then I wrecked it. God, I’m an asshole.”

  Reaching forward, I tucked a bang of her black hair behind her ear. I did this on a whim, a move I immediately recognized as out of character to whom she believed me to be: an eccentric jerk.

  Autumn frowned in confusion, then shook her head. As a matter of trade, I typically only noticed the important details in the Ephemerals. Physical qualities that might factor into their future training, such as upper and lower body strength, and perceived quickness. But all at once, I was struck by the flecks of green in her eyes, which were wide and lovely, but rimmed in years of sadness.

  Perhaps she was doing this too, influencing changes in my work. She could be an illusionist. Planting and manipulating thoughts, changing environment.

  Even if she was, I was immune. Just as I’d been immune to the healing she believed she’d given me, and the mind reading she attempted to employ at the scene of the accident.

  Even two centuries ago, she’d have been burned at the stake for a glimpse of any one of her gifts. I believed truly, and was not alone in the belief, that our world was heading down this path once again in the not too distant future. The cyclical nature of history repeating itself.

  Autumn turned toward the sound of the rain increasing in intensity outside her small apartment. Raindrops clouded the window. I knew what she thought before she said it.

  She released a deep, resigned sigh. “You can’t go out in this after what happened. I’ll grab some blankets and you can stay on the couch. I have class tomorrow, but you can lock the door from the inside when you wake up.”

  “Thank you, Autumn. Truly.”

  Her glance rested on me another moment longer before she dropped her eyes and flipped a switch near the door. The room became shrouded in darkness and shadows.

  “Goodnight, Gabriel.”

  V

  How we went from me hitting the strange man, to the strange man sleeping on my couch, under the same roof, was a mystery not even Agatha Christie was equipped to solve.

  What a fine mess! Would this be the aftermath of the accident from earlier, or was another acci
dent on the horizon for me? Maybe he would rape and murder me while I slept in unsuspecting peace?

  This could turn out to be the worst judgment of my life yet.

  There wasn’t much I could do about it now. The sequence of events had been my fault, so him sleeping on my couch also was. I’d caused this. In the morning, I could walk away feeling satisfied with having done more than my part to remedy the mistake.

  Not that I was going to go to sleep without at least letting someone know about my predicament.

  AUTUMN: Don’t tell Mom, but I got into another accident today. Hit a dude on a bike this time…

  AIDAN: Unreal. A bike? Really?

  AUTUMN: Yeah.

  AIDAN: And I won’t have to tell her because she’s going to get the insurance hike in a month or two.

  AUTUMN: I know. I want to enjoy what little peace I have left while I have it.

  AIDAN: Did he die?

  AUTUMN: No! If he had died, don’t you think I’d have started with the fact that I’d killed someone?

  AIDAN: …

  AUTUMN: You have no faith in me.

  AIDAN: I guess I should ask if you’re okay.

  AUTUMN: Gee, thanks. Physically, I’m fine. Mentally, I might have lost my damn mind because he’s sleeping on my couch.

  AIDAN: Sorry, can you say that again? I don’t think I interpreted your level of crazy correctly.

  AUTUMN: Uh.

  AIDAN: HAVE YOU LOST YOUR DAMN MIND?!

  AUTUMN: He was hurt, and I didn’t know what else to do.

  AIDAN: Call an ambulance? Call the police? Call anyone?

  AUTUMN: No.

  AIDAN: Wait. You didn’t do something dumb like healing him, did you?”

  AUTUMN: Pleading the fifth.

  AIDAN: Autumn!

  AUTUMN: He wasn’t hurt all that bad, I don’t think, but he passed out in my car and I only had a minute to figure out what to do! We were right near my apartment, so I just took him there.