by Lynne Murray
“Actually, it’s very good.” Kirby leaned forward encouragingly. “We don’t know what you can do, and it sounds like you’re not sure either. So let’s find out together.”
Hmm. No answer on the deadly part of the question. “Find out how? Because I’m not interested in experimental killing.” The slivers of voices that sometimes came to me suggested that this had once been part of a lesson plan and I didn’t like it.
“There’s quite a lot we don’t know about Death Dealers. They’re not only an offshoot of humanity, they’re a secretive cult with many useful skills. You clearly weren’t trained by them or you’d know all this, but that could be an advantage. If everything else checks out, we’ll customize your glasses when you start to work with us.”
“Wait you’re offering me a job?”
Sophie let out a muffled cheer.
I looked over and saw Chad trying to restrain her enthusiasm. “Don’t jump up and down yet, Soph,” he muttered.
“You’re having an understandable rational reaction.” Kirby’s calm tone helped a little.
“I’m having trouble believing all this.” The knot in my stomach that could have been fear or confusion. I keep waiting for the part where the hidden cameras show up and you explain that you’re pranking me.”
“We’re not,” Sophie chimed in
What was it about Sophie that I immediately trusted her the minute I met her? Still, I couldn’t help but wonder, “If you want me to sign up for something that’s going to cost me money, let me tell you upfront—I can’t afford it and I won’t be manipulated.”
“Good,” Kirby said. “Weak-minded people couldn’t do the work we do. Just hear me out.”
“Okay.” I leaned back in the chair and waited.
“As I said earlier, the Twins initial scan shows that you have some Death Dealer DNA.”
That word again. It gave me a chill. “What the heck is that?”
Kirby leaned forward close to me. “So you’ve never heard of Death Dealers?”
“No.”
“Have you heard of cursing?”
I shrugged. “Um, like sticking pins in a voodoo doll or giving someone the evil eye?” I felt stupid just saying it. “Oh, wait, like Shakespeare’s grave: ‘Cursed be he who moves my bones.’ Maybe to prevent grave robbers.” I felt a little smarter quoting Shakespeare, never fails.
Kirby sat up in silence for several seconds as if organizing his thoughts, then he leaned forward earnestly again. “There’s an ancient tradition of cursing our enemies. Wanting to hurt someone who has done you wrong is a natural human emotion.” He waited.
I nodded. “Okay.”
“From ancient history onward, many religions invoked curses aimed at heaping punishment on their enemies. Sometimes they reported successfully causing grief from simple physical distress through grim death visited upon multiple generations.”
“Isn’t that like superstition or suggestion? Where someone believes they’re cursed and then psychologically makes it happen to himself.”
“Good point. It’s hard to separate the wishful thinking and hypnotic suggestion from the actual curses that work. Most curses then and now didn’t have reliable results—unless the group got hold of a person with Death Dealer genes. Someone who can kill without touching. Those curses really work.”
“And you think I have a talent for cursing? Or killing?”
“Based on what Chad witnessed with your boss, yes.”
“So you’re looking for a natural killer. That sounds illegal to me. What is the group, some kind of organized crime?”
I didn’t really believe that they could be serious. Murder wasn’t a skill I’d put on my resume.
“My question is do you want to learn?”
“What? No. I’ve spent my life trying—” I stopped.
“Trying not to kill people?” Kirby asked in a voice so soft that only I could hear it. “There’s more to your talent than that. If you don’t learn to use your natural gifts, they will use you. Isn’t is better to work together rather than keep struggling alone?”
“Yes.” It came out of my mouth before I could think. I still didn’t trust these people, but Kirby had hit on my deepest fear. No one had ever given me a choice about this up till now.
“We can tentatively offer you a starting position at this salary.” He wrote a number on the yellow legal pad in front of me and slid it in front of me.
Twice what I was making at the law firm. “That’s a lot, are you sure you’re not looking to hire an assassin?”
Kirby seemed to find that amusing. I looked over and saw Sophie and Chad exchanging glances. My god, were they looking to hire me to kill? I flinched as if he’d dumped a bucket of ice water over me.
“No,” Kirby said firmly. “I promise you we don’t want to hire you to murder. Your assassin genetics are only as part of what you are. But you’ve proven today you can do what few people on earth can do.”
“You mean kill without touching?”
“I think that part of it is evidence of deeper abilities. We need to find out your exact genetic background so we can formally initiate you.”
Not really an answer. It didn’t sit well with me. “So you’re telling me that initiation is different for different genetic groups. That sounds like major discrimination.”
Kirby smiled, “Think of it as tailoring. There are different inherent skill sets and we can offer different sorts of training based on that.”
“I don’t know enough about your group yet. If I agree tentatively, can I say ‘no’ at any point?”
“Yes, at any point, I only ask that you come to me first if you want to opt out, because it may be a problem we can solve together. One request I do have....” He dug in his pocket and brought out a small, glossy white paper box. It looked like a cheap jewelry box, no velvet here. He opened it up.
“Mr. Kirby, this is so sudden,” I tried another joke and was rewarded by a giggle from Sophie. Kirby smiled, but his face grew solemn again.
He lifted out a simple white pendant with a smooth metal backing that might have had a very faint pattern stamped into it. He held it out for me to examine. The circular surface had a pearl-like sheen, but no matter how closely I looked, I couldn’t quite make out any design. It was fastened to a stainless steel chain.
“I’d like you to wear this amulet until we talk again tomorrow. The kind of power you demonstrated today has already registered on the radar of some dangerous groups. You could be a target for serious attacks from some less than kindly creatures.”
“What! You’re saying I’m in danger?”
“I’m saying it’s possible. That’s why we want you to have a protective talisman immediately, even though you won’t be able to understand it until you have much more training.”
“How does it work?”
“It sets up a kind of force field. Completely invisible and harmless to you and anyone who wishes you well. I can’t explain how it works in a few words. Just simply wear it at all times.”
The circular pendant looked a bit like the face of a watch, except that it was nearly glowing. “It looks blank,” I said. “If it’s protective, shouldn’t it have some kind of inscription or a computer chip or something?”
“It looks blank to you now. That will change as it as you wear it and it adapts to you.”
“Okay.” My head was spinning with all this new information. My aunt had always acted as if my “gift” as Kirby called it could get me in trouble. That day seemed to have arrived. The Twins certainly looked, sounded and smelled like nothing I’d ever encountered. But that didn’t mean that everything Kirby was telling me was true. Maybe they were some kind of human traffickers. If that turned out to be the case, could I kill them and escape?
I desperately needed to get a handle on this killing force inside me. When you’re drowning and someone offers you a life raft, you climb on first and negotiate later.
“I just need you to sign here that you’ve received t
he protective amulet and are considering joining the ETPA.”
I read the paper Kirby handed to me. “It says here I’m applying to join the ET Protective Agency. As in Extra Terrestrial?” I asked.
He didn’t immediately answer. “This is as much as I can say now until you formally join the group. As I said you can drop out any time. This amulet is a loan, so we’ll need it back if you decide to leave our group. I need a $30 deposit.”
I laughed. “All that talk about powers, and you’re asking me for $30?”
“Think of it as a security deposit. This amulet is the beginning of your training and it provides you with protection.”
I signed on the bottom line. Mr. Kirby placed the amulet over my head without a hint of ceremony.
“So, if I decide to return it tomorrow, do I get my thirty bucks back?”
“If it’s returned in good condition, yes.” Kirby sighed. “It’s a minimal amount. But we’re taking a chance on you. You may not believe it but it will protect you. Just wear it until we meet again tomorrow. We learned the hard way not to hand an amulet over to someone for free. It encourages them to treat it carelessly. Some have even thrown it away. Don’t do that.” He patted my hand.
“Is it a tracking device?”
“It doesn’t track you, unless you press the center. That sets off a distress signal and allows us to locate and help you. It’s a protective device but I can’t vouch for the safety of anyone who treats this casually. Do you understand me, Angie?”
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry with fear. I managed to nod. He seemed to feel I needed protection and he was offering it, but at what cost.
He gave me a solemn look. “I don’t mean to frighten you.”
“Too late.” I hadn’t meant to say the words out loud.
Kirby blinked and then his expression grew even more solemn. I felt oddly comforted for no known reason. “As long as you don’t try to damage this amulet. You can keep it for as long as you wish. If you decide to leave our group, we want back it back. Just wear this amulet and come back tomorrow night. We’ll finalize things then.”
“Okay.” Maybe it was a stupid decision, but I was definitely curious.
Or maybe I was still in shock. Nothing about this day made sense. I had just killed someone. A group of strangers offered a way out of a job I hated and an impressive salary.
What I couldn’t turn down was the hope of clearing up the inner conflict I’d been battling for as long as I could remember. I didn’t feel like running away.
On the bus ride home, Sophie and Chad brushed off most of my questions with furtive looks around at the other passengers.
“This isn’t the place to talk,” Sophie said.
“Mr. Kirby will clarify it all for you tomorrow,” Chad said as I got out. My stop was a few blocks before theirs. It felt odd to have friendly neighbors nearby. True, they might belong to some weird flying saucer cult. But this was San Francisco, such things are not so unheard of. On the plus side, Sophie’s bakery served some great pastries, a relationship worth cultivating for that reason alone.
Chapter 4
It was a relief to get home. It was close to my bedtime. I decided to take a shower and indulge in a cup of hot cocoa before falling into bed. I stripped out of my clothes.
When I took off my shirt, I could see the scars on my arms. Souvenirs of a disastrous love affair I fell into a month after Aunt Bess vanished. I was so distraught that when I ran into Tyler, a guy I'd met in school. I accepted his invitation to his place and then his bed. I just wanted to be close to someone. For a little while, it helped. I never brought him back to the apartment. I kept thinking my aunt would walk in any minute, then fearing she never would return.
The affair didn't last long. One night at his place, he answered his phone and proceeded to talk for several minutes with another woman, saying all the same flirtations things he said to me. While he talked, I called an Uber. When he finally ended his call and saw me waiting by the door, he asked what was wrong.
“Just waiting to be picked up,” I told him. “Don’t call me anymore.”
“Why can’t we be friends with benefits?” He held up the phone as if to indicate the woman he’d been talking to.
“I don’t think you’re very good friend material.”
That should have been the end of it for me. Tyler wanted me to overhear him talking to another woman, testing me to see whether I fit into his...whatever. He probably called it a lifestyle. I called him a scum sucking bastard.
But blaming him for being a jerk didn’t last long after I returned to the empty apartment. That night I cut my wrists and swallowed a whole bottle of aspirin. I woke up with a buzzing in my head and very painful, but healing, scars. It was a Saturday. I went back to work on Monday.
Five months later, the cuts had healed, but the scars and the feeling of anger and helpless loneliness remained.
Now, again in that quiet apartment, I suddenly I wondered why I hadn’t killed Tyler for putting me through that pain when I had killed my boss for yelling at me. I didn’t know the answer.
I put on a bathrobe and slippers, walked into the bathroom and started the shower. The amulet around my neck felt oddly heavy. I took it off and put it on the sink. I was about to take off the robe to get into the shower when a deafening crash of my front door breaking open froze me in fear. Then footsteps down the hall and the sound of two men talking.
“It’s in the front room,” One man’s voice came through the door, followed by the thud of furniture hitting the walls. “Check the desk.”
“Damn thing’s locked.” A second male voice, not even trying to be quiet.
“So break it,” the first man’s tone was rough.
The sound of wood cracking and a smashing sound that must have been the end of the lock on my grandfather’s roll top desk.
I belted my robe, pushed my feet deep into my slippers and slid out the door, closing it silently behind me, leaving the shower running. I walked down the hall to the kitchen. I had my hand on the doorknob to the back stairs when an earsplitting, high-pitched shriek from the front room made me jump. Throwing aside attempts to be quiet, I rushed out the back door and down the wooden steps to the back yard. I went out the side gate to the alleyway and hurried down to Fulton. A black SUV pulled away from the curb as I exited the alley. It was headed west, away from the direction I went. I didn’t stop to look. I stayed close to the buildings and shuffled as fast as I could in my slippers.
Two blocks down Fulton Street seemed like a much longer distance than it had when Sophie pointed it out on the bus. I kept looking over my shoulder for any signs of someone following me. I was cold and shaking when I rang the buzzer under the name Falconer. I hoped Sophie and Chad were home.
The door opened and I found myself looking up into the piercing amber eyes of a tall man with light brown hair cut short. Did I have the right apartment? The thought added to my panic. Where else could I go?
“Sorry,” my voice trembled. “It’s an emergency. Someone broke into my house. I’m looking for Sophie or Chad.”
“I’m Wade, Chad’s brother. Come in, you...” He paused. “You look cold.” He had a kindly expression that made me feel he would help. He stepped back to let me in. “They’re in the kitchen.”
The apartment was almost too hot after my frantic run through the night. It smelled of roasting chicken. Relief flooded through me.
The man looked me up and down, taking in the bathrobe and slippers. “Are you okay?”
“N-n-no. I was about to take a shower,” I glanced down, at least my bathrobe was securely belted. “Some men broke into my place.”
The man leaned down. He must have been well over six feet. His face was too close, with all the fear and adrenaline pumping through my system. But I didn’t move away. His light brown eyes lit with concern.
“I ran out the back while they were searching and b-b-breaking things.” I started to sob.
He put his arms around me
pulled me close. “You’re safe now.”
I laid my head against his chest without thinking about it.
“You escaped. You came here, and that’s good,” he said. With my cheek pressed against his chest, I felt the vibrations of his voice, his breath against my hair. I felt protected. “That was very resourceful of you.” He patted my back. It helped.
“Sophie! Chad!” he called over his shoulder. Being in the arms of a total stranger should have made me tense up. His body was taut with muscles and he somehow seemed solidly rooted to the earth. I hadn’t felt this secure since my aunt disappeared. Instead of calming me, the feeling of safety tapped a well of emotions. All at once I was crying for my aunt’s disappearance as much as from the shock of burglary.
I heard footsteps down the hall. Chad’s face peered past his brother’s arm. “Angie, I see you’ve met my brother. What happened? Are you okay?”
“She said some guys broke into her apartment. She managed to get away,” Wade said.
I stepped out of Wade’s arms. Looking at the two brothers I could see the family resemblance, both tall with light brown hair. Wade was taller but that wasn’t it. Standing next to his brother, Chad’s stunning good looks seemed to fade into the background. Wade’s hair was darker and his nose more prominent and his features more rough, but there was a family resemblance, except for the amber brown eyes, in sharp contrast to Chad’s brilliant blue eyes.
Wade had a masculine presence that would command any room he walked into. He radiated strength and intelligence. People would follow him or come to him for help. As freaked out as I was, my body had sensed that before my mind registered it.
Wade reminded me of the occasional visitors I ran across talking to my aunt. Mostly men, but a few women. Some tall, some short, all of them were clearly trained for strength—running, fighting and carrying things. Mostly, even before my hormones kicked in, I noticed the no-nonsense men. Efficient, observant, capable of things I didn't know how to think about. I don't know if any of them, male or female, were lovers, agents involved in my aunt's mysterious rescue business, or both.
