People are always trying to kill me.
Okay, that might be an exaggeration. They’re not always trying to kill me. Sometimes they try beating the shit out of me first, if they’re lucky enough to sneak up on me. Other times they simply want to tie me up, gag me, and haul me back to their boss. Yeah, everyone has a boss. Too bad everyone’s boss wants me dead.
I’ve been living on the run for the past six weeks. Needless to say, it sucks. Sure, I can pretty much obtain whatever I might need; hotel room, food, transportation, money. You name it, I can get it. But in order to get it, I have to use my ability. And if I do that, well. It’s like a strobe light goes off, big as shit, right above my head, invisible to normal people, but totally visible to those in the employment of the Temhota. And not only is it a visual signal, the damned whatever-it-is screeches like a banshee. Not audibly, of course. As I said, “normal” people can’t see or hear the alarm. But the thugs hired to find me? They get a wicked awakening. Imagine being blinded and having to listen to someone drag their nails along a chalkboard at the same time. Yeah, it’s like that.
Shit. Time to move.
I’d been watching three individuals for an hour. They were in the park below me, and I was on the roof of an adjacent apartment building. A backpack loaded with essentials rested next to me, along with the stolen property. My bedroll was neatly tied and ready to be slung over my pack. I was ready to move, so why hadn’t I? Because the three shitheads in the park had caught my attention as soon as I’d opened my eyes to the bright sun that morning, and I needed to know whether they’d found me or not. Even without using my extra sense, it was clear to me they were Mages. They all had a look about them, and I’d been in this business long enough to recognize it.
The reason I know so much about all of this crazy shit? Long story short, I’ve worked for the Temhota Group for years. From time to time a particular job would come up that needed a bit more finesse and subtlety than their Mages or anyone else on the payroll could produce. That’s where folks like me come in. We’re only a small minority when it comes to all the supernaturally weird shit that’s out there. Most normal people think there are way more of us than what there really are, only because ninety-nine percent are full of shit and fake their asses off. Call a nine hundred number sometime, you’ll know what I’m talking about. I guess it’s no different than those shitty lounge magicians pretending to be Gandalf or something.
As I was saying, I’m what is generally known of as a Psi. You know, extra-sensory? Specifically, I’m a Manipulator. Well, I’m also a Viewer, but that particular ability isn’t what has kept me in the employment of the Big Bad for so long. There are also Empaths, Precogs, Locators, and a whole mess of other talents I won’t get into. But it’s safe to say that we, the Psi, are able to use our minds to do more than the Average Joe. It’s not magic, it’s not statistics run amok. It’s just a, well, an extra sense that we’ve been able to “develop” into all sorts of devious things. Take mine for example. Seems cool that I can simply talk to someone and convince them that the sky is fluorescent pink, right?
Is it also cool that, without words, I can force someone’s brain to explode? Or persuade that person (again, without words), to turn to the next and strangle them to death? The possibilities are endless, hence the reason for the Temhota’s interest.
Six weeks ago I refused to finish a job, which is something quite out of character for me. I’d always relished in it. Loved everything about it. I had never looked at my “skills” as curses. I was good at what I did, always slept great at night, and was always the first to accept an assignment. I guess that’s why, after a few years of freelance work, the Temhota began calling on me regularly. They, and everyone else in Psi, considered me hard and ruthless. I had even caught one Empath calling me “atrocious.” But, whatever worked I suppose. It kept the money coming in.
Not only had I “failed in my duties,” I’d stolen something that belonged to them. Something very precious, though I didn’t know how precious at the time. Through all the years I’ve worked for the bastards, I’ve never seen anything quite like this. And I absolutely don’t know what to do with it. For all my skills, all my experience, none of that has prepared me for what I’ve currently gotten myself into. I can’t reach out to anyone either, for help. I thought about going to the Century, but the more I learned about what I had stolen, the more I figured I’d end up having two groups on my ass day and night instead of one. But enough of the pity party.
So I’ve kept myself alive these past six weeks by keeping a general cloak around me and the “stolen property.” Which is weird . . . if they can zero in on me with their magic when I use my abilities, why can’t they find me when I’m using a low-level cloak? To be honest, I don’t care. It’s working, and that’s all that matters. For now.
“Come on, do something,” I whispered as I peered over the raised roof ledge at the three Mages below. There was quite a lot of hustle and bustle on the street, folks coming and going to wherever they needed to be. Work, school, home, whatever. It would work to my advantage if it turned out that I indeed needed to beat feet. The three Mages slowly fanned out through the park, their eyes methodically scanning the ground around them. Their backs were to me, and I was confident my cloak was still up and running. If it hadn’t been, well . . . there would be three dead Mages in the park instead.
See, that’s another reason all the Mages have been so rabid in their pursuit. I’ve killed several in order to keep what I’ve stolen. Sure, killing them meant using my skills, which in turn meant triggering the alarm, but it was necessary. And I only use my skills when necessary now. I have to. Not only to stay hidden, but to protect the thing I’ve taken.
One Mage, to the far right, stopped underneath the only tree in the park and bent down on one knee.
“Shit,” I whispered. The otherwise-steady beat of my heart quickened its pace. Sweat beaded along my forehead. All the hairs on my arms and on the back of my neck stood up. My guts clenched.
What’s he up to?
I didn’t know much about magic, never had to learn. But I knew enough to know that little shithead in the park was doing something to me. He just didn’t know it was working. He picked something up from the grass and held it close to his lips, and at the same time I heard a rush of air across my ears and my breathing became raspy and labored. The stolen object stirred in the blanket next to my feet.
Sonofabitch.
I had been in the park the day before, with the “package,” and it suddenly became obvious to me that the Mage had found something of mine. A discarded gum wrapper, a hair, who knows. And whatever he had found, he was using it to work some kind of damn mojo on me. The other two slowly made their way over to him as my vision became increasingly blurred. I had to do something.
“You asked for it,” I whispered, and then I opened my mind. In doing so I had to drop the cloak, but in a few seconds that wouldn’t matter. The world flooded in, coming dangerously close to overwhelming me into paralysis. That happened sometimes if I’d gone long periods without using my abilities. I took three deep and fast practiced breaths, fixing my eyes on the Mages, who’d already begun turning in my direction. In my mind I could see what I call their “signatures.” It’s like a radio frequency that every individual puts out there. And, like a fingerprint, they are all unique. Manipulation happens in a matter of seconds, and the mechanism is really quite complex, but I am what the Psi calls a Tier Five. In other words, I was at the top of the food chain, and what might be complex for others was pretty damned simple for me.
The first Mage, the one who had been kneeling, locked eyes with me. His face contorted; he knew what was about to happen. But I was too quick. I latched onto his signature, pushed deeply into his brain, grabbed a blood vessel with my mental fingers, and pinched. His body stiffened, his mouth frozen in an O shape. Before the other two could counter my psychic attack, I locked onto their signatures as well. It took some effort, but I’d done way more than three at one time before. A second later, I was buried deep within their minds, totally oblivious to what was going on around me. All sound was blocked out. My vision tunneled. All I could see was the three Mages, and their blindingly bright frequencies in my head. All I could feel was their fear, and the searing power of what I was doing.
I was in The Zone.
The package stirred beside me again.
Goddamn it, Tess. Don’t get lost in it. Just get the job done.
I pulled myself back from the darkness and did what I had to do. I pushed out with a singular pulse, rupturing a blood vessel within each of their brains. All three sagged to the ground. No screaming, no struggling. They just wilted, like neglected flowers.
I crouched low and flipped myself around, slamming my back to the ledge. My body was shaking and I felt empty. Not empty in an I’m-hungry sort of way. This kind of empty always hits me afterwards. It’s like a longing, a sorrow. And a little bit like withdrawal. I guess that’s normal though, to feel such a heavy crash after a raging high. And yes, to me, killing someone in this way was a high. It was the power, I think. To have such absolute power over someone, to be able to take their life so easily. Not only that, if I wanted to I could feel and see everything they’ve ever experienced in their entire lifetime before killing them. Like I said, the Temhota liked me for a reason.
My stolen bundle stirred again, this time with a little more purpose. I held my breath, squeezed my eyes shut, and made myself invisible to the world of magic again. After what I’d just experienced, the cloak felt like ice water over my head, and it was definitely enough to sober me up. Wiping the sweat from my face with my sleeve, I shouldered my pack and bedroll. I needed to leave ASAP; the cloak might be up, but I had just given away my location. I couldn’t stay on that rooftop any longer.
After drying my face and blinking my eyes to clear my vision, I was certain I was good to go. A little “hung over” from the power usage, but nothing I couldn’t deal with on the road. On my knees, I bent over the stolen package, placing one hand next to it and using the other to pull the blanket back.
“Don’t you worry, everything is fine. You’re safe. And I’m gonna keep it that way.”
A set of blue eyes looked back at me as his tiny mouth curved in a smile. His equally tiny hand poked out from under the blanket and wrapped his fingers around my thumb. I couldn’t help but smile back. After a moment, I covered the baby’s face and picked him up gently, cradling him against my chest as I made my way off the roof and on to our next hideaway.