Psychic

by Chloe Garner

  “And if I’m not interested?”

  “You can come back up here and tattle to Sam about how I tried to get rid of you,” Carter said. He smiled with just his upper lip. “It only works for me if there’s no downside for you.”

  “All day, you figure?” Jason asked. Carter tossed him a granola bar.

  “Trust me on this.”

  <><><>

  Samantha woke from a happy dream and lay, in a hazy, wandering dream state that was governed by the meter of Sam’s heart. She tried not to move and wake him, but as her awareness grew more rational and less dreamlike, it apparently pulled him out of sleep as well. His hand pressed her lower back, but otherwise they were still.

  “Is Jason okay?” Sam asked.

  “Carter will have checked on him a couple of times. He doesn’t sleep for more than an hour or so at a time.”

  Sam pulled his arm from under his head and through his chest Samantha heard his shoulder creak. She closed her eyes, pulling the warm fuzziness of near-sleep close again. As soon as she moved, her neck was going to be stiff and her back was going to be twisted wrong, but right now, she could feel neither.

  “We should get up,” Sam said, putting his hand over her head. With his palm against her ear, his heart was truly the only thing she could hear. She let the slow, steady noise wash over her, and she had started to drift away again when he shifted. Her neck was at the wrong angle, and the muscles were tense from being stretched out the wrong way all night, and now she was sore and uncomfortable. She rolled away, yawning, and stretched.

  “You want breakfast?” he asked.

  “Carter won’t have anything. We’ll have to go out,” she said.

  “I bet Jason is starving,” Sam said. Samantha checked her clock. They had slept until nearly noon, with no natural light to tell them it was morning.

  “I bet he is.”

  Sam stood and stretched his arms over his head.

  “Where did my shirt go?”

  Samantha rolled onto her stomach, chin on her fists, to watch as he looked.

  “Guess you’ll just have to borrow one of mine,” she said.

  “Yeah, because Jason wouldn’t have a field day with that. Not to mention Carter.”

  She grinned.

  “There are a few that would look cute on you,” she said. He found it clinging to the corner of a hanger in the skirt section of Samantha’s closet, and pulled it on.

  “Is that inside out?” Samantha asked.

  He pulled it off and looked at it, then frowned.

  “It was not.”

  “I just like to watch you take it back off,” she said, grinning. “Sorry.”

  He glowered at her playfully and put it back on again.

  “You were right. There was nothing in the refrigerator but what you said. Jason is going to be starving by now.” He paused. “I’m kind of surprised he hasn’t woken us up yet.”

  “Maybe he slept late, too,” Samantha said, finally getting up. She motioned for him to turn and looked over her selection of New York clothes. It was still all black. She picked out the most casual stuff she could find, then went and opened the door. Jason wasn’t on the couch.

  “Carter,” she called. He walked out of his bedroom and looked at her passively. “Where is Jason?”

  “I sent him downstairs.”

  “You did what?”

  “To Rachel. I’ve owed her ever since she got me a present for my birthday. I don’t understand why Abby told her when it was, in the first place. Anyway, we’re even now.”

  “Who’s Rachel?” Sam asked.

  “He’s not up for that today,” Samantha said, finding her fists balled on her hips. Carter smiled and went to sit on the couch.

  “Apparently he was,” he said. “Else he would have been back by now.”

  “Who’s Rachel?” Sam asked again.

  “Widow Nelson,” Carter said. “Ravenous woman. Apparently proper apartment buildings find her scandalous.”

  “Just her neighbors,” Samantha said. Carter smiled wider as he draped his arms across the back of the couch.

  “Good thing she doesn’t have any neighbors here, then.”

  “What is he talking about?” Sam asked.

  “Sex. I’m talking about sex,” Carter said. “Loud, wall-shattering sex.” He was watching Samantha, hoping for a reaction.

  “He knows how to leave when he wants to?” Samantha asked.

  “He’s a big boy, Sam. He’ll figure it out.”

  She looked at Sam, but he wasn’t that concerned, either.

  “It is kind of his second profession,” Sam said. “And he would never agree to go to the Met.”

  “Well…”

  “I imagine you’ve got all day, now,” Carter said. “If he surfaces before sun set, I’d be shocked.”

  She put the pieces together and spun at him.

  “You did this on purpose.”

  “What? Try to get all of you out of my apartment? I’d never.”

  “It really isn’t a bad thing. I mean, she isn’t going to kill him, is she?” Sam asked.

  “Probably not,” Carter said, inspecting his nails. “As long as he remembers the safe word.”

  Samantha lashed at him again, but Sam caught her.

  “We can go. Wherever we want. For as long as we want. Ignore that he’s pushing you around and take it as a gift.”

  Carter grinned as he flicked his thumb nail out from under his index finger nail with an audible clicking noise.

  “Yeah, Sam. I’m just looking out for you.”

  “Shut up,” she said. He grinned wider, still not looking up. She closed her eyes and put her hands up in front of her shoulders, throwing them down.

  “Fine. Yes. Okay. Let’s go.”

  Sam was giddy at the idea of a whole day to themselves, and she could hardly say she wasn’t thrilled at the idea, herself. Carter sitting there, smug, on the couch though, triggered every instinct in her body to fight back. She let Sam drag her out of the apartment and onto the elevator. She just closed her eyes and refused to think about it as they passed the eighth floor.

  <><><>

  They got hot dogs and ate them in Central Park. They wandered for hours at the Met, just looking, communicating mostly without words. He held her hand. They walked and looked at the buildings; they ran through the subway to catch a train as it left. They took the ferry to Staten Island just to ride it back. They talked about work, they talked about family, they talked about buildings and physics and philosophy and history. They stood, looking over the harbor as the sun set and sucked the color out of the sky, while the lights turned on at Liberty Island. He kissed her neck.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “We should go check in with Jason,” she said. He kissed her again.

  “You sure?”

  “It’s either that or the island with no cell phone reception,” she said. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, spinning.

  “Done.”

  She laughed and pulled away, holding a finger up warningly as he tried to grab her again. She dodged away, then again, weaving through his arms like an illusion. He tried again, and she shrieked laughter, racing down the boardwalk ahead of him. They wove through people for a ways, then quit when it got too crowded not to be impolite. He put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tight. She leaned her head against his side, then pointed.

  “Subway’s that way.”

  “Last chance to run away with me,” he said.

  “Not this time,” she sighed.

  “Back to work, then.”

  “Back to work.”

  <><><>

  Samantha let them in the door at Carter’s, putting her palm on the door and triggering the locks the way she always had when she lived there, and Carter looked up from the table.

  “Did you bring food?”

  Sam held up the bag and Carter stood.

  “I guess you can stay, then,” he said. Jason was asleep on the couch. />
  “When did he get back?” Samantha asked.

  “Maybe an hour ago,” Carter said, digging through the bag even as Sam set it on the counter. “Pizza?”

  “More significant to him than noodle dishes,” Samantha said.

  “You come to New York City, you have one night to get take out, any kind you want, and you get pizza?”

  “She said it was the right thing to get,” Sam said, pulling out a box of bread.

  “Food?” Jason asked, jolting upright on the couch.

  “Come get it,” Samantha said.

  “Not even good pizza,” Carter said.

  “I like it,” Samantha told him. Jason snatched a plate and one of the stack of small pizzas out of the bag.

  “What’s in here?” he asked.

  “The one on top is every meat on the menu,” Samantha said.

  “Best day ever,” Jason said.

  “We’d love you to join us, Abby,” Samantha said. “There’s a veggie pizza in there for you. If Lange is available for a demo…”

  Someone knocked on the door and Samantha opened it.

  “She says it’s bad pizza,” Lange said. Samantha nodded a slight bow to him.

  “I like it. I don’t know why everyone says it’s bad.”

  “Sgood,” Jason said from the table.

  “You’d eat snail guts right now and say it was good,” Carter said, looking at the labels on the rest of the boxes. Sam laughed.

  “Veggie is mine, Carter,” Abby said, breezing into the room and taking it from him.

  “Hello, love,” Samantha said.

  “I don’t watch,” Abby said. Samantha glowered at her and Abby smiled her sagest smile.

  Lange was an apprentice that Argo had cut loose about four years prior. He had ended up in New York because he thought it was fun, and he carried his weight keeping the demons in line well enough that Carter tolerated him reasonably. Samantha had sharpened her hand-to-hand skills against him after she died. He was the nearest thing to a peer that she had had, most of that time, and if they weren’t friends, they tended to appreciate each other’s company.

  “Lange, this is Sam and Jason. We work together. I’ve just started training Jason.”

  Lange raised an eyebrow, and he and Jason looked at each other for a long moment. Jason didn’t bother to stop chewing. Lange turned back to her, his dark hair brushing his shoulders as he moved. At one time, she had thought him beautiful.

  “I thought you swore you’d never take an apprentice,” he said.

  “Believe me, there are extenuating circumstances,” she told him. He looked at Jason again.

  “He’s a bit untutored, don’t you think?”

  “Nicest thing anyone in this city has said about me so far,” Jason said.

  “You disappointed Rachel that badly?” Carter asked. Jason rolled his jaw sideways as he finished his bite.

  “You’d have to ask her. We didn’t much talk.”

  “Rachel the demon tramp?” Lange asked. Jason choked.

  “Demon tramp?”

  “Where’d you think she learned all her neat tricks?” Carter asked.

  “She sleeps with demons. She’s human,” Samantha said.

  “Like that makes it better,” Jason said.

  “Doesn’t it?”

  He went to get another pizza. Sam offered him a bread stick.

  “So what are we up to?” Lange asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his pizza.

  “Full workout downstairs, if you’re up for it,” she said.

  “Rumor mill says you’re the one who isn’t,” Lange said.

  “You know I feed the rumor mill,” Samantha said. She jerked her head at Carter. “And so does he.”

  Lange grinned.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “I’ll fight you with blades if you want,” Samantha said.

  “Not Lahn.”

  “No look who’s afraid,” Jason said. Samantha could have kissed him.

  “She gets Lahn, I get to fight with Diana,” Lange said.

  “Only if you cut her out of my hand first,” Carter said.

  “Diana?” Sam asked.

  “What’s his part in all this?” Lange asked, motioning at Sam without actually acknowledging him.

  “He’s mine,” Samantha said. Lange stood and tossed the empty box on the counter. He always had inhaled his food. He walked to stand in front of Sam. Samantha fed him steely confidence. Don’t blink. Sam sucked on a tooth and waited.

  “Anadidd’na ana’nae,” Lange said.

  “Anadidd’na anu’dd,” Sam answered. A slow grin split Lange’s face. He looked at Samantha.

  “He’s got balls. You’ve marked him?”

  “No.”

  “Indentured?”

  “No.”

  “You going to tell me?”

  “No.”

  Lange looked back at Sam again.

  “She wouldn’t travel with you if you were her new Justin. She’d hide you away in some convent.”

  He didn’t hear her draw Lahn in time. He blocked the stiletto in her left hand, but Lahn found his throat in her right. She tossed the stiletto onto the counter and put her arm around his chest as he tipped his chin up, feeling the blade.

  “That’s the line, right there, that you just crossed. You want to come on back?”

  “Do that with another blade and see what happens,” he said. She pulled his shirt up and slid the Saracen sword from its sheath along his leg. Sam found this distracting.

  “Like this one?” she asked, tossing the sword to Jason. Gratifyingly, he caught it. “We’re friends, you and I. Sam is out of bounds. Yes?”

  “I got it,” Lange said. She lowered Lahn and he stretched his neck. “Can I fight him, anyway?”

  “No.”

  “He’s just your sex toy then,” he said. This last stung Sam enough that he nearly reacted. Jason snorted.

  “He wishes,” he said. Lange looked among the three of them.

  “You’re still selling?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then what’s his point?”

  “You didn’t used to be so utilitarian,” Samantha said.

  “You left. No more good influences,” Lange said.

  “Big city,” Samantha said.

  “They aren’t us.”

  “Neither are they,” Samantha said, indicating Sam and Jason.

  “I’ve managed to avoid an apprentice,” Lange said.

  “Everyone always says they’re going to,” Carter said. “Argo cut you loose as soon as he could; Garrett sent her to me to get out of training her himself.”

  “He sent me because you won Lahn at cards,” Samantha said.

  “I think he was angry at me that week.”

  “Are we going to do this?” Lange asked.

  “Blades?” Samantha asked. He leaned against the counter.

  “How close are you to the top of your game?” he asked.

  “Far enough off that you’re in trouble, close enough that I’m not,” she said, grinning as she slashed Lahn through the air. He put his hand out to Jason, who tossed the Saracen blade back. He spun the blade through a complex pattern in the air that involved several silly flourishes simply intended to impress Sam and Jason. Abby had seen it before; Carter was openly skeptical. Samantha waited until he was done.

  “Feel better?” she asked.

  “Let’s go.”

  Abby yawned.

  “As much fun as this show of manliness is going to be, I’m tired. I brought him, I ate my pizza. I’m going home now.”

  Samantha looked at her. She knew that Abby barely slept. She had an entire evening of history to review, and then various futures to ease out along. Samantha had expected she would stay. Abby watched her with steady eyes the color of strong coffee. It’s okay, Samantha heard her voice saying. We have separate lives now. You’re happy. Samantha looked for a way to fight with her, to make her stay, but Abby smiled. I’m not that. It’s ok
ay. She nodded to Carter, who had his feet up on the table and was drinking something amber out of a square bottle. He handed it to Jason, who tipped it back in turn.

  “Should be a good show,” Carter said, standing. “Don’t want to miss it; finding seats.”

  He followed Abby out into the hallway and they all got onto the elevator.

  “No magic?” Lange asked.

  “No active magic,” Samantha said.

  “Bending?”

  “Of course,” Samantha said.

  “You know how to fight without bending?” Carter asked.

  “I practice, sometimes,” Lange said.

  “You knit, too?” Carter asked.

  Abby got off in the garage.

  “Don’t kill each other,” she said.

  “Who’s going to win?” Lange asked. Samantha caught him hard in the side with her elbow. He hadn’t seen it coming, and bent sideways as the elevator doors closed. Samantha saw Abby smile. She looked at Sam. He was processing, and she felt him get it. If Abby declared a winner in advance, she influenced the outcome ever so slightly - if she had watched, she would break her stream of probability and end up with a massive migraine like the one he had gotten in Florida. It had been a rude question - intentionally rude. Lange sputtered for a moment as the elevator doors opened again to the sub-basement floor. Samantha stepped off past him, going to stand in the center of the space.

  The light here was yellow. She had never asked about it, despite a sincere hatred of it, because she knew Carter had picked it on purpose. It was possible that purpose was to annoy her; it was possible that there was something more constructive to it. Either way, asking did her no good. The cinder block walls were painted canary yellow, and the plastic covers over the fluorescent bulbs were dyed yellow. One full wall was mirrored, and one corner had generic, cheap workout equipment. The floor was simple school-hall tile; no advantages offered here, no cozy environment for training. Awful light, hard floors, no adornment or identifying features. No cloth, at that. Despite it, she loved this space.

  It was hers.

  Carter never came down here other than to watch fights. Her training had been on her own. Like the yard behind the building, he had made it for her and then abandoned it. She had, at times, slept here.

  Lange stripped his shirt as Carter took the seat on the weight bench and Sam and Jason took seats against the wall nearby. Samantha watched Lange stretch with put-on boredom, then checked out her own range of motion, joints crackling as their accustomed flexibility returned with warmth and testing. Samantha unbuttoned her loose-fitting shirt and tossed it to Sam, revealing her black tank top and the harness that held Lahn on her back. She drew and watched Lange, shifting one foot out just enough to get her range of reaction where it needed to be when Lange attacked. He always attacked.