Empath Reborn

by J. A. Culican

  "But you're sure that Dad is really my dad? In the biological sense?"

  "Absolutely," she replies.

  I nod my understanding just as Talon returns, my dad coming in two seconds later. Too slow, Dad. I smile at them.

  By the time Talon and I finally leave, it's nearly nightfall. I spent wonderful hours with my parents, even if they are in "Wraith jail." Even dark and gloomy Talon had joined in on the raucous conversation. Roma are a gregarious people, but he kept up just fine, both with my parents and against the guards who kept coming in to check on them. I'm in a fantastic state of mind for the first time in what seems like a long time, feeling almost like I'm buzzed. Euphoric. My parents and my man might have started rough, but they're on good solid ground now. I almost want to skip as Talon and I walk hand-in-hand down the road.

  Until he looks suddenly worried. That's kind of his nature, though, so I don't want to assume I know anything about why. "What's up? Why the long face?"

  "Long face? What are you, forty?"

  "Shut up," I say, laughing, and swat his arm.

  He pretends I've just broken his arm, howling in outrage and then smiling and waving at curious passers-by.

  "Oh, do shut up," I growl, ignoring the indignant looks of those we cross paths with, but I'm only half irritated and half pretending. He's made quite the scene, and I hate people looking at me.

  After a few steps, though, he looks somber again. "Well, if I shut up, I can't answer your question, now can I?"

  "I suppose not, spoilsport."

  He reaches down and takes my hand, which isn't new, but this time, it feels somehow significant. Walking together like that, holding hands, he says, "There is still no proof Kasik isn't the one who is your biological father. I mean, we're pretty sure, but that isn't the same as being positive. The only way to make sure, the only way to know for certain, is to take a paternity test, to discover who you truly are."

  Fear suddenly gnaws at the back of my mind. What if…

  I spend the rest of the trip back to my suite in a grim silence.

  Chapter Sixteen

  "It's your turn, Miss," the nurse says as she sets a clear-covered tray of torture devices down on the counter beside my bed. I hate syringes.

  The paper on the bed crinkles every time I move, which is embarrassing, but I can't stop squirming as I look at all those needles. "How long will it take to get the results? Have you gotten my dad's sample, yet? He hates these things. Bring a couple orderlies to hold him down."

  She doesn't even crack a smile. "He already had his sample taken, and he wasn't as nervous as you. Perhaps I should get some orderlies for you? Look, it's just going to be a little rub. Now, open your mouth, please."

  Startled, I ask, "Rub? My mouth? Can't you just get it from my arm?"

  The nurse pauses, looking at me with her head cocked to one side. "Your arm?"

  Talon bursts into laughter. "Hooboy. Ela, they use a swab to get saliva, not needles."

  The nurse smirks at me. "Oh, I see. No, those syringes are for other patients on my rounds. Can we get this over with so I can get to them, too?"

  I open my mouth for her, relieved. In goes a long-handled swab, and I feel a light brush along one cheek. She turns around to her little tray thing, which prevents me from seeing what she does with the swab. I imagine really long test tubes with cork stoppers. The thought almost makes me smile. Almost.

  The nurse grabs her tray of torture and awkwardly holds it under her arm as she pushes the wheeled tray-station out with her free hand, leaving Talon and me alone again.

  There's a moment of silence, then he says, "Do you need a lollipop after your ordeal?"

  "Shut up. It's not funny."

  He grins. "It's a little funny. You should have seen your face when she set her tray down.”

  “I did mention I hate needles, right, jerkface?”

  “Yeah, you made that abundantly clear. Anyway, what do you want to do, now? I'm feeling hungry."

  I hop off the medical bed, hating the paper rustle this causes. "You're sure the results are totally confidential?"

  He wraps me into his arms and gazes down into my eyes. "Yeah. This is a Wraith hospital, not mortal. Birka can requisition the results, of course, but she could get them from a mortal hospital, too. Easier, even.”

  I nod, thinking on it. “If she requisitioned the results, I might even be notified. I’m more worried about her knowing before me, or without me knowing she has it.”

  “Security here includes defenses against magic, of course, so it's a lot more discreet than mortal hospitals. But more importantly, where do you want to eat?"

  I smirk at him and his one-track mind. "Let's just wander until we find something we haven't tried before."

  Talon opens the room door for me. “The main exit is on the building’s far side. This is both a medical clinic and an office building. Follow me if you want to get out of here without getting lost."

  That sounds horrible, so I shrug and follow him, but we only make it halfway to the clinic's waiting room before I hear something as we pass a side corridor. I stop and turn around, listening.

  Then, I hear it again. There are sharp, high-pitched voices that seem to be in a rather heated argument. Oddly, something about the muffled voices seems familiar, though I can’t quite figure out what.

  "Come on." I turn down the hallway.

  Halfway down, the hospital tiling stops abruptly, replaced by carpet and paintings. We've hit the office spaces Talon had mentioned, which definitely doesn't make me feel like Wraith hospitals are more secure, no matter what he says.

  We walk slowly, and soon find an office that seems to be the source. The voices are clear, even through the closed door. Although the racket is dying down, it still echoes down the tiled hallway behind us and off the walls ahead.

  I whisper, “I’m surprised no one has called security, yet.”

  Talon puts a finger to his lips, then takes my arm and leads me through a wide-open door into an adjacent office. There's nothing in it, just an empty suite.

  "What are we doing?" I look around, nervous.

  He shakes his head and reaches into a pocket. When he withdraws his hand, he has a blue gemstone in it. He holds it up to the light and peers at it closely. Even from a couple feet away, I can see there's some sort of golden mark in the gem's center. It looks like some kind of symbol. He rests the gem on one upturned palm, brings it to his lips, and whispers a few words at it that I can't hear. But I can definitely feel the magical energy suddenly buzzing around us. Abruptly, the buzz vanishes and in its place, I hear two voices arguing as clearly as if I were listening through headphones.

  Talon smiles at my startled reaction.

  That's when I realize why the voices seemed familiar—they belong to Princess Meredith and Secretary Dawson. I have no idea why they'd be here of all places. Maybe they had a meeting, I don't know, but I do know they both sound ticked off.

  “That doesn't bode well...”

  Then, sounding somehow ominous, Dawson seems to speak directly into my ear, thanks to Talon's gemstone. "Dammit. Meredith, this is our chance. We can change the entire world, don't you see? It will change everything."

  A chill runs up my arms.

  Chapter Seventeen

  My jaw drops. Huddled over Talon’s magic headphone stone, I whisper, "Can you turn it up? We need to hear this."

  "Why are you whispering? This is a bug, not a phone. It's one-way. But no, I can't make it any louder than it already is. It does record everything we’re hearing, though. Sort of like a magical MP3 file, using a gemstone instead of a USB drive."

  I grin at the silly comparison. "Shut up and listen."

  He sneers back at me without replying, but I focus on Secretary Dawson and Princess Meredith's conversation.

  M: "I'm not sure the world needs changing. Are you? Maybe we should just leave well enough alone."

  D: "Are you kidding me? After all the time we've spent, the hundreds of millions
on research?"

  M: "Over a billion, now. And however much more we need. But for what? To play God? We don't know what will happen if we go through with this."

  [Pause]

  D: "Yes, we do. Here, look at this PDF on my phone. It's a list. We've already done it, Meri, and it works."

  M: "So many? Five... Six... When did you do this? I thought we were partners in this research."

  D: "We are, in the research, and there's always room at the table for you to be my full partner, but only if you commit one-hundred percent. Imagine what we can do with this. How many brilliant minds can we save? How many can we bring back who are hurricanes of social change and awareness? My God, even just the artists we could bring back."

  M: "I guess..."

  D: "Don't guess. Know it. We have the power, now, to force the world to change for the better, even if we have to drag it kicking and screaming. All those social warriors, the artists, the scientists... We can now bring them back from the dead. Think of the power that gives us, the good we can accomplish."

  I gasp and step back involuntarily. When I let out a high-pitched whine, I cover my mouth with both hands in horror.

  Bring them back from the dead.

  But that's impossible! Yet, I clearly heard them say they were already doing it. The context proved it was no metaphor, no lofty future ambition. Resurrection is at last truly possible.

  But why? Dawson might have good intentions, but those pave the road to hell.

  Across from me, Talon is as white as a sheet.

  I step back up to him and his stone, and the sound comes back when I cross some invisible threshold.

  M: "...yes, I know. But are the artists the people you've already brought back? The scientists? Who'd you play God with already, Dawson?"

  D: "Every experiment needs test subjects before moving on to clinical trials with people who matter. So, I used a few meaningless rats to try it out on. No one who matters. Just random mortals first. As if we aren't all mortal... though I suppose we're not, not anymore. No one has to be."

  M: "But when word of this gets out, what will be the effect? We can't keep it a secret forever. I don't think the news will pass by peacefully without so much as a ripple. There’s going to be blowback."

  D: "No, we don't have to keep it secret forever, just for now. I envision a glorious world that isn’t divided by magical haves and have-nots. The only division that will matter is the one between all the mortals doing good to earn their place in forever and those who've already been given immortality. The ripples will be positive, Meredith."

  M: “You can’t know that.”

  D: “What criminal wouldn’t turn to doing charity work among the world’s poorest nations if they could become immortal by doing it?”

  M: "You’d have immortal criminals, then.”

  D: “We can use whatever criteria we want. It doesn’t have to be that.”

  M: “I... I need to think on this."

  D: "Of course. But I'm sure that, once the shock wears off, you'll see things as I do. You'll realize the grander truth behind all this, too. In one fell swoop, we’ll shift the cosmic balance from how much wealth and resources one can seize from the world to how much they can give back to it."

  M: "Not everyone is going to see it that way. Some people will think you're trying to be a god, while others will call you the Antichrist. And some will want to use it to stay in power forever, or to seize it and keep it."

  D: "You worry too much. Once the genie is out of the bottle, no one can put it back, no matter how hard they try to fight it. And as long as someone good controls it, someone like us, those who want to take it for selfish reasons don't stand a chance against the might I'll wield."

  M: "You know the saying. ‘Power corrupts’..."

  D: "Yeah, ‘and absolute power corrupts absolutely.’ But don't you see? That's why I need you to be my co-pilot in steering the future. You'll keep me honest, and I'll keep you brave enough to do what needs doing. Join me, Meredith—not just in the research, but in using it."

  The audio goes silent, though I hear them moving around. Then, their door opens and their footsteps in the hallway fade as they leave together.

  Talon pockets his gemstone. "We need to get out of here without being obvious about it. We don’t know who’s on Dawson’s payroll.”

  “Let's go to my place and figure out what our next steps should be.” Anywhere but here would be fine with me, though.

  Talon nods. “Cool. I'll call Glenn and Ida over when we get there, so it looks normal."

  "So there’ll be no logs showing your call from here in the same timeframe as those two psychos leaving?"

  "Right. I trust Glenn and her with my life, and even yours. He and Ida have some great insights. We'll figure something out."

  Once we get out of the building, we walk a block away and then grab a taxi-ball. Neither of us says much on the ride back. I think he’s as stunned as I am. Bringing people back from the dead. What does that even mean? However those two do it, it can't be good.

  And then Luka comes to mind. What if...

  No. I tell myself that’s a horrible idea, at least at first, but it’s scary how fast the idea goes from apocalyptically frightening to an overwhelming temptation when I think about bringing back someone like him.

  Dawson was right. Once this genie is out of the bottle, there will be no putting it back. The world would never give that up.

  Chapter Eighteen

  My hand shakes a little as I fumble to get the keycard into the slot, but I get the door open and we rush inside. I know it's a flimsy protection, but I feel a lot safer once the suite's heavy door is closed.

  As soon as we get inside, Talon makes a call. Ten minutes later, Glenn and Ida show up and we usher them inside before saying a word.

  Talon is the first to speak as we settle in on the couch and they take over the loveseat. "Thanks for coming, both of you. Listen, we need to forget about the Shades, the training, all of it. We're onto something far bigger."

  Ida nods, and Glenn glances at her as he puts one hand on her shoulder and squeezes lightly. She smiles, then looks at Talon. "Bigger than a shadow war for the fate of the world? Well, we have something to tell you, too."

  "One at a time." Talon leans forward, elbows on knees. "Ela and I overheard something, today. Something big, and we need your help. Yes, bigger than our war.”

  Glenn snorts. “I highly doubt that.”

  “You know how we call normal humans ‘mortals?’ Even though we also have to worry about... I mean, we're not immortal. Even if we call them that. I mean ‘mortal,’ not immortal.”

  "Oh, wow, you suck," I say, nudging him with my elbow. "What he's trying to say is that everyone dies, right? Mortals, Shades, Wraiths. All die, sooner or later."

  Ida's eyes light up and her eyebrows shoot upward. "Not anymore?"

  Talon coughs and, rubbing his throat, he says, “We overheard Secretary Dawson and Princess Meredith talking, and I recorded it, though it's not a good recording. And no video, just audio. The walls there are thick, so—"

  I nudge him again, this time a lot harder.

  He glares, but gets back on track. "Right. Well, they were arguing about whether anyone has the right to bring people back from the dead.”

  Glen, rolling his eyes, leans back on the loveseat, thumping one booted foot on the coffee table between us. “This is a joke, right?”

  Talon ignores him. “And then they said they’d already done it, to test it out. I'd give anything to see how it's done, or even just talk to one of the returnees."

  Ida lets out a little squeak of laughter. "Returnees. That makes them sound like rejects."

  Once again, I interrupt. "Anyway. We need to do something about this. Any ideas?"

  Glenn looks at us dramatically through his eyebrows. "Ida and I overheard Dawson talking about it earlier today, when we broke into his office."

  Ida bounces up and down on the balls of her feet. “And we foun
d a list of names for people they've already returned.”

  That gets my attention. “Who’s on it?”

  “We didn't have time to look at it there, and it was too crowded to look at over lunch. And then we got your call to come over.” Ida rubs her neck and looks down. "Sorry."

  Glenn shrugs. "Yeah, we were hungry. I figured it waited this long, it could wait another twenty minutes. The bigger question is, what should we do with it? I say we give it to Birka and let her figure out what to do about this. She's the queen, after all."

  Ida rolls her eyes at him. "Not this again. We aren’t even sure this isn't some kind of hoax, or it could be a code word for something else entirely."

  I know how she feels. I hardly believe it myself. “But Ida, you weren't there to hear what Talon and I heard. It's no code word, it’s literal, and they have plans for it. Big plans. That doesn't freak you out a bit?”

  She frowns. “It does now.”

  “I'm not saying we should tell Talon’s mother, but I'm not saying we shouldn't.”

  “You have some third option to that yes-no question?” Talon looks over at me, lips pursed, and his amusement at my expense is irritating.

  “Look, I'm only saying that this is exactly what it says it is, and that I don’t know whether we should tell her."

  Ida purses her lips, frowning. She’s quiet for a moment, no doubt considering it again now that she has confirmation that it’s real. "No, I still don't think we should tell Birka, not until we have a chance to see or even talk to some of these so-called ‘returned’ people."