by Lan Chan
Pulling my hoodie over my head, I walked down the main street. “Praise be the Lord for sending the angels amongst us,” a man in a white robe said.
Strangely, the Esper Rebirth Church had a strong presence in the Row. I guess in any crisis there would be people who profited from human suffering. I went to one of the last Catholic schools in the city, so I might have had a biased reaction when the missionary tried to give me a pamphlet.
Skirting around him, I avoided eye contact. You could tell from his beatific smile that he venerated espers like they were Gods on earth. Maybe an esper had helped him some time. I hoped so. All of the espers I had ever known were just as messed up as everyone else. Most of the time, they were worse. Telepathy isn’t an automatic path to enlightenment.
“Looking for a good time, sweetheart?” said a Latino man standing in the doorway of a terrace house.
I tried my luck. “Only if you know of a Reader who can give me an impression of this?” I whipped out one of the cards and turned it around, showing him.
“Why don’t you come inside and we’ll discuss it?”
“No thank you. But good luck anyway.”
He blew me a kiss as I headed away.
In City Square, I’d have been able to walk into any business and ask for the nearest Reader. They tended to use their espers as draw cards. Only problem was, as soon as I asked, Gabe would know shortly after. I only had two free passes left.
In the Row, they guarded their espers like diamonds. Aside from the Illusionists who worked the illusion parlours, everyone kept their abilities close to their chest.
Readers were the most common espers amongst us. Mind reading was something most of us were predisposed to anyway. A Reader could break through shields easier than the rest of us. An alpha-level Reader was the public’s worst nightmare. The rest of us could communicate telepathically but really delving into a person’s innermost thoughts was more intricate than the general public realised. Readers could remove thoughts, add them, and lift impressions from memories. They could make you forget who you were. What I needed done didn’t require the services of an alpha. Any old Reader would do.
This was getting to be tedious. I didn’t want to have to do it, but after forty minutes of asking around without much help, I bit the bullet and unleashed a mental probe. I let it fly over the surrounding area, touching the minds of everybody around me. It was the gentlest touch, nothing more than a caress that would give me an indication of whether someone was an esper or not.
As the probe worked, I circled around the basin near the river. I glanced up at the monstrous building of the casino with its neon signs lighting up the otherwise dark sector.
King of diamonds. Looking at the building now, it wasn’t hard to imagine that the Shadowman might be the richest of them all. Mesmerized by the dancing colours, it took me at least two minutes to register the ping of a suitable esper mind.
When I finally did, I traced the brainwaves to a small store selling assorted cheap knick-knacks. There were a few people milling about the candles and tacky underwear. I located the esper behind the counter. He was an old man with cracked skin and gnarled fingers. He sat behind the glass counter with a toothpick in his mouth reading a moth-eaten paperback.
“Hi,” I said, approaching the counter.
He peered at me over the novel, looking first at the counter and then at my hands. I should probably buy something to sweeten the request. The only palatable thing within reach was a flashlight on a keychain. I picked it up and set it on the counter between us.
“Two dollars.” His voice was weak like he was straining to breathe. I fished the money out of my pocket and handed it over. He rang up the transaction and went to pick up the novel again but stopped. I hadn’t moved. There was no socially acceptable way to do this. Outing another esper was severely frowned upon.
“Umm...are you by any chance a Reader?” Smooth.
He moved the novel to block eye contact with me. I would never win any awards for diplomacy, so I played the missing mother card. “Please. I’m looking for my mum. She disappeared about nine months ago. This is the only clue I have to find her.”
I waved the card in the air. He pressed the novel so close to his face it was a wonder he could breathe. “I have the impression of the original in my mind. I just need you to do a quick reading. I can pay.”
Out of desperation, I slipped the card over the bend of the book. His reaction to the thing made me jump. With barely enough time to really take in the details, he dropped the book, picked up the card, and tore it to pieces.
“Hey!”
“Get out,” he said.
“But –”
“Go away.”
And then in my mind, he transmitted: If you know what’s good for you, you’ll forget about ever seeing that card. Your mother is gone.
Irritation and a touch of fear shuddered through our connection. There were scars on his hands. He limped as he moved to the other side of the counter to get away from me. Signs of a life hard-lived. A heavy weight settled in my chest. What could possibly frighten a man who looked like he’d seen more than his fair share of suffering?
Go, he pressed.
I trudged back out into the street. When I was a hundred meters away from the store, I took the remaining card out of my pocket and looked at it. There wasn’t anything malicious about it. Just a couple of numbers across the top of the card and some arbitrary markings within the design. Obviously I was missing something.
Heaving a sigh, I prepared to cast another telepathic net out to search for more Readers. That was the problem with inviting other people’s thoughts into your head. Invariably, their problems also found you. Two seconds after I reached out, the psychic scream tore through my mind.
Terror transferred through the other mind, making me stagger. The little girl was less than two blocks away. My mother’s number one rule was self-preservation. Self being the operative word.
“Feeling sorry for other people only gets you killed,” she used to say. “You want to make it in this world? Keep your head down and walk away.”
It was all good in theory. It worked for us when she was in charge. But then again, she wasn’t the one who had to listen to them beg and plead in her mind, in her memory, in her nightmares. When the scream reverberated a second time, I took off running.
5
A block from the alley where the girl was located, her mental screams transformed into verbal ones. It was a sub-vocal, wildcat growl that poured ice into my veins. That kind of wailing that only kids under the age of four could get away with before it got unbearable. Her thought patterns were at least twice that advanced.
In reality, she was scrawny. It was a wonder her bones didn’t shatter as the hulking beast slammed her into the brick wall. His blackened hands winched around her throat. Two of his companions stood either side of him. The one on the left held up a baseball bat ringed down its length with barbed wire. It was overkill central.
“Where is it?” the Beast snarled. He pushed his face up close to hers. The poor kid’s twiggy arms and legs flailed about. Under the street light, her tear-stained face began to turn an alarming shade of purple. Even if she wanted to answer, there was no way it was going to happen with his hand on her windpipe.
“Just lemme brain her and then her mum will talk,” the one with the baseball bat said.
“Too easy,” Beast man grinned.
A mere twenty steps away, people were casually walking across the road. Cars drove by and stopped at the lights. What was wrong with everyone? The girl made a last gagging attempt to speak. It seemed more like her body’s reflexes trying to suck in air than a conscious choice. Her mental signature weakened. Her scream was now no more than a whisper to match her telepathic status.
Walk away, my mother’s voice urged. They can never know what you are.
She was always talking about this mysterious bogeyman we were running from. It was always they this and they that. I didn’t kno
w what they wanted from us. She never shed any light on what was supposed to be wrong with me either. What I did know was that my dad would probably kill me if he knew I had a chance to help someone and I didn’t. Mixed messaging. It was really quality parenting from the both of them.
I put two fingers into my mouth and whistled. The sound ripped through the tunnel of the alley. Their heads turned. The one on the right, silent until now, walked into the lit section of the alley. Beneath his left ear was a tattoo. An eye with a lightning bolt shot vertically through it. The Shadowman’s mark. No wonder everybody else was ignoring this. Just perfect.
“It would be really great if you could let the kid go,” I hedged.
The Beast’s fingers flexed. It allowed the girl to take a gasp of air before he squeezed tight again. “Well, look what we’ve got here.”
If I wasn’t already sure I’d have to kick his ass to save the kid, the way he raked his gaze over me sealed the deal. On a good day, I’m not bad to look at. Just the usual blend of Eurasian features so common since Australia seceded half its land to New China after the Reset in order to raise the funds to rebuild.
When these guys traded predatory glances, I knew it wasn’t my hazel eyes or long, dark brown hair that intrigued them. It was the fact that at five foot six inches, every single one of them towered over me. I could tell they were trying to work out why I wasn’t balled up in a corner. The Beast had about fifty kilos on me at least.
“The kid,” I said. “Let her go.”
The key to getting what you want is confidence. Said Gabe who could send people running by snapping his fingers. Sadly, I didn’t have that kind of clout. I wondered what would happen if I dropped his name? It would probably antagonise them further. The Shadowman didn’t care for the presence of the other Kings on his territory.
“Oh,” Baseball Bat said. “And I suppose you’re going to make us?”
“No,” I said. “I’m asking really nicely. Please, let her go. She’s just a child. Since when does the Shadowman condone child abuse?”
Grinning, the Beast tossed the kid aside like a paper doll on the breeze. The movement pushed his leather jacket aside to reveal a holster.
Mayday. Mayday. Do not engage.
The three men circled me. I held up my hands in a defensive surrender pose.
“I don’t suppose you’d think too kindly of just letting us go?” My thoughts were already racing. Mum called it The Switch. She coined it after my third cage fight win at only nine years old. That moment when my body decided it was useless to run. The second when my mind deemed that fighting was the only way out. Fight or flight. The human body’s physiological reaction to an impending attack. Ironically, that reaction was also where scientists believed telepathy originated.
When the attack came, I was more than ready. Baseball Bat charged forward and took a swing at me. I ducked the slash of the barbed wire and surged forward, slamming my elbow into his face before he could wind up again. The momentum spun him around in the opposite direction. He dropped the bat and clutched at his broken nose. Blood seeped through his fingers as he sputtered a curse.
Kicking the baseball bat away, I turned in time to catch the edge of Tattoo Guy’s fist. It connected with the side of my head. Pain burst through my scalp and down my neck. Years of physical training kicked in. I banked the injury to be dealt with later. The EK usually absorbed some of the brunt of physical impact, but even I couldn’t disperse that much force.
My knees bent as he kicked out trying to land another headshot. Instead, I blocked the attack and grabbed his boot. Yanking with all my might, I dragged him forward so that he stumbled. I charged and drove him back into the wall. Without missing a beat, I slugged him across the head and then kicked him right in the solar plexus. He doubled over, gasping for breath.
That’s when I felt a rough hand close over the back of my neck. The Beast Man pushed me face-first against the wall. Using his enormous body as a cage, he pressed his lips to my ear. His breath was stagnant with decay. I tried to gasp and dry retch at the same time. My gut convulsed. A hard, metallic object pressed into my spine.
“Beg me not to kill you and maybe I’ll let you go,” he growled into my ear.
Okay. Now all bets were off.
Please don’t kill me, I whimpered mockingly in his Basic mind. I felt him grit his teeth as the headache-like pain shot through him. That was the thing about Basics. As an alpha, I could speak to their minds but if I didn’t concentrate, it hurt like hell for them.
The gun went off milliseconds after I telepathically pushed it aside. The shot boomed in the small space. Flecks of brick and mortar scattered. The bullet burrowed into the building. I braced my palms against the wall and pushed back. The inch of space allowed me to curl my legs in front of me and spring away. Once my hands were free, I gripped his fingers and bent them backwards. The pop of bone and tendon was insubstantial compared to the electric charge that I directed up his arm.
Mum had been the guinea pig for these experiments. She took hundreds of small hits for the team to allow me to test the strength of my EK. If my control had been any less than absolute, I would have killed him. There was a reason why EKs were the most unstable espers on the food chain. He staggered backwards and slumped against the other wall. His eyes closed. Was he still breathing?
My last order of business before my legs buckled beneath me was to reach for their minds and erase the image of her face. All three of them moaned. I felt like joining them but managed to keep my dignity.
The expenditure of that much telepathic energy always cost me. But now wasn’t a good time to let down my guard.
Somebody behind me groaned. Aw Jeez. Before I could turn around, a twiggy arm snatched at my sleeve and tried to yank me up.
“We have to go,” the kid said. I don’t know who she thought she was kidding with her attempts to help me up. She was skinnier than a beanpole. The only reason we got moving was because I dragged my own sorry ass along with her. We ran back past the Reader’s store, along the bank of the river and over the bridge that creaked beneath our feet. When we landed on the other side, the kid kept moving to the right, away from the casino. We were headed towards the Slums. I didn’t like it one bit.
“I don’t think they’re following us,” I said. The fact that I was puffed out and she wasn’t didn’t sit well with me.
“They’ll bring others,” she said. “They’ve seen my face.” Her black eyes were orbs inside the whites. They reflected the half-moon hanging low overhead. For a second her lower lip trembled before she bit it.
“I’ve taken care of it. They won’t be coming after you. What did you take from them?”
Her jaw grew hard. Then she bent over and poked a finger into her ratty sneakers. From inside her sock, she pulled out a single black casino chip with white edging.
“A hundred bucks,” I said. “He was willing to kill you for a hundred bucks?”
“They saw me take it from him.”
Ah. It wasn’t about the money. It was about reputation. Bloody lowlife. My stomach growled. Dizziness flooded my brain. It was time to give up for the night. The kid grabbed my arm.
“Come,” she said. “We have food at home.”
I doubted that. Her chicken wing arms were nothing but skin. “I’m fine,” I said. My head turned at the sound of a scuffle in the underpass to our left. “How far away do you live?”
She shrugged. “Ten minutes.”
I was going to ask if she thought she would make it home okay on her own but then the two vagrants started shouting. Glass smashed against the ground.
I sighed. This just wasn’t my night. “Lead the way.”
6
She was playing it fast and loose with the definition of a home. When she stopped in front of the block of old apartments, I almost wanted to take her home with me.
“You live here?” I said. My face must have screwed up in distaste because she mimicked it.
“Where do you think yo
u are?” she said. Fair point. Dad forbade me to come anywhere near the Slums. So did Mum but her motives were less about protecting me and more about not wanting to draw attention.
The kid wasn’t the only one who called this place home. I counted four beat-up car bodies on the front lawn. We walked through the two metal doors on the ground floor and emerged into an unlit alcove.
As soon as the darkness hit us, icy fingers trailed down my spine. Every tough guy had a weakness. Mine was a debilitating fear of the dark. It wasn’t so much the lack of light as what came out of it. I gasped and fought with the memories. The metallic taste of blood in the back of my throat. The choking stench of formaldehyde. Not good. Not good. Not good.
A switch flicked. The room was bathed in yellow. Just like that, the nightmare receded. The kid stood on the bottom of a metal staircase, a perplexed expression in her eyes. Then she started up the steps, her long black braid swinging behind her.
“This is where I leave you,” I said. She was home safe. Package delivered. I was guilt-free.
“No, wait!” She flagged me back.
“Sorry, kid. I have places to be.”
She kicked the railing. “But now I owe you a favour. If you leave, I got no way of paying you back.”
“Forget about it.” Stepping back, I made to leave.
“Whatever you came here for,” she said. “Maybe I can help you find it.”
“Unless you know a Reader, that’s not going to happen.”
“Why do you need a Reader?”
Figuring I had nothing to lose, I showed her the card. She squeaked when she saw it, stepping back until she was pressed to the other side of the wall.
“Come with me,” she said.
What could I do but follow?
We went up six flights of stairs. At the top of each turn was a door with the number of the level. When we got to number eight, she pulled the handle and pushed her back against the door, trying to keep it open. Her feet slid further forward the longer she was there. I was impressed she even made it up the stairs.