“Oh, I know. Making a joke.” Kirsten returned to her seat. “So, the kids are asking you to talk to ghosts all the time?”
“Not really. It kinda creeps them out. They keep bugging me to guess future stuff, but it doesn’t work.”
Whew. She breathed relief out her nose. Perhaps she’d been around Dorian and his cynicism too long. If Evan developed the sort of precognitive ability capable of giving him glimpses into the future for trivial things, military intelligence would kidnap him in the middle of the night. His having precognition at all still made her worry someone would grab him, but as long as he only saw the future when someone he cared a great deal about faced serious danger made him relatively useless to the military or other unscrupulous people who might try to profit off him.
“Precognition is one of the most difficult powers to control.” Kirsten nibbled on toast. “It’s super rare, and most people who have it can’t control it. They experience prophetic dreams or waking visions out of the blue.”
Evan nodded in an exaggerated, comical manner. “I know. Been trying to tell them, but they keep asking me to guess what a random number generator will say, or what someone’s gonna be wearing when they walk into the classroom.”
“It bothers you?”
“It doesn’t bug me they ask. It bugs me I can’t do it.” He ate another bite of eggs.
He doesn’t like disappointing people. “If someone asked me to use Pyrokinesis, I’d never be able to do it.”
“Yeah. But you don’t even have pyro. Totally different. I’ve got precognition… sorta. Am I doing it wrong?”
“No. In all the time we’ve been aware of and keeping track of psionics, there have only been three people capable of accurately seeing the future when it didn’t involve them personally, or someone emotionally close to them.”
“Wow.” He blinked. “Only three?”
“Yeah.”
Evan made a series of determined faces.
“What are you thinking about?”
He relaxed. “Maybe precog is like really hard to do, so it needs the emotions to make it work at all. Like you know how stuff gets stronger when we’re scared, or mad? Precog’s gotta be like tryin’ ta pick up a patrol craft with Telekinesis. Can’t do it unless someone you really like’s gonna die.”
“That’s a good way to look at it.” She winked, then ate the last of her omelet. A large piece of jalapeño ambushed her, making her feel like a dragon spewing flames from her nose.
Evan laughed the whole time she gasped for air.
“Shani plus one at the door,” said the genderless voice of the apartment AI.
Weird. Plus one? It knows Nila. She swatted herself on the chest twice before rasping, “Open the door for them, please.”
A faint hiss came from the hall.
“Welcome,” said the AI.
The rapid footfalls of two children running preceded Shani and a slightly older girl zooming into the kitchen. Shani hurried right over to Evan and began chattering away, but the other kid stopped short at the edge of the kitchen, staring at Kirsten. Her long, wavy dark-brown hair and big hazel eyes seemed so damn familiar. She’d definitely seen this girl before. Four seconds after appearing at the end of the hallway, the mystery girl started crying.
Having never made a kid cry before by simply existing, Kirsten raised an eyebrow.
Where have I seen her—oh, shit! Willow Stephens.
Months ago, Kirsten found the nine-year-old chained to a metal beam while a group of zealous idiots tried to burn her to death for being psionic. Only due to her Pyrokinesis ability had she survived long enough for Kirsten to get there in time to help. She’d almost become too tired to hold back the burning.
Willow bolted forward, racing around the table, and hugged Kirsten.
Evan and Shani stopped talking to blink at her.
“Willow?” asked Evan. “What’s wrong?”
Kirsten put an arm around her. “Hey, kiddo. Shh, it’s okay. You don’t have to cry.”
“Thank you for saving me.” Willow sniffled, struggling to rein in her emotions. “Sorry. I knew you’d be here, and I still cried. Ev said you were his mom. Seein’ you made me think about the bad people.”
“Is everything okay?” Kirsten bit her lip.
“Mostly. I sometimes have nightmares and burn my room.” Willow wiped her eyes. “Daddy’s haunting the school. I think he checks on me at night.”
Evan carried his empty plate to the dishwasher. “Yeah. He said he’s gonna be around ’til you’re grown up. Maybe even stay longer if you want him to.”
“Mommy’s helping her learn fire stuff.” Shani beamed. “Will slept over last night.”
“Did you two have fun?” Kirsten ruffled Willow’s hair.
“Yeah.” Shani nodded.
“Speaking of… where is your mother?”
“’Mergency call. She sent us over here,” said Shani. “Can you take us to school?”
Kirsten got up and carried her dishes to the machine. “Of course. Give me a sec to grab the rest of my things and we’ll get going.”
* * *
The kids followed her down the hall to the elevator and up to the parking area. Living in a building with actual hovercar accommodations made life far less stressful. The walk from elevator to patrol craft took a bit longer, but she didn’t have to worry about getting in trouble for illegal parking. Her former landlord didn’t seem the type to want cops around, but a passing Division 1 unit might swoop down to issue a citation for a car wedged between HVAC units. Most would ignore an official vehicle, but some might relish the chance to make life difficult for a psionic.
Evan hopped in up front, the girls in the back. Dorian didn’t manifest, remaining wherever he went while ‘sleeping’ in the vehicle. It had become more of a home to him than his burial urn, seeing as how he’d been killed in it. Thinking about former Division 0 personnel who’d been assigned to this car unknowingly butting heads with him and complaining about a ‘cursed’ PC got her laughing as she lifted off. Most of the crew in motor pool thought her some kind of ‘car whisperer’ because they didn’t believe in ghosts. This patrol craft’s problems didn’t originate from mechanical or electrical issues, merely a personality clash between the previous drivers and Dorian.
The kids spent the ride to the PAC talking about Pyrokinesis. Much to Kirsten’s discomfort, Willow generated a little flame in her hand. Being able to summon fire out of thin air was pretty rare, a sign the girl had serious potential. Most pyrokinetics started off struggling to ignite combustible materials; this girl sustaining an open flame in her hand on pure psionic energy alone put her on par with adults who had been practicing for years.
For a moment, Kirsten wondered if the child might be ‘awakened,’ like Kate… but the woman’s fire turned blue due to being hotter than normal. The flame in Willow’s hand remained orange.
She’s still a kid, and she’s this far along. Wow, I hope she stays happy and well adjusted.
Rumor had it people with Pyrokinesis tended to be short-tempered. Granted, rumor also claimed everyone with Mind Blast should be a creepy, gloomy, morbid sort of person. Kirsten stuck her tongue out in spite at whoever decided on the stereotype she totally didn’t fit.
Eleven minutes after liftoff, Kirsten brought the patrol craft down for a landing on the road outside the PAC and drove into the underground parking area. Most satellite precincts had roof parking, but the central Police Administrative Center roof held too many sensitive electronics, including an interplanetary communication array for Mars uplink and a small landing pad used by military aircraft.
She drove to her designated space and shut down the patrol craft. Dorian appeared in the empty passenger seat once Evan got out. He and the kids walked with her across the garage into the PAC. At the entrance to the school wing, she hugged the kids one after the next and sent them off to class. Watching all three of them happy and laughing kept her standing there until they rounded a corner out of sight
.
“You’ve got this mom thing down pretty good.” Dorian patted her arm.
“I have no idea what I’m doing. Every decision feels like desperation and panic wrapped up in a whole lot of ‘please be the right thing,’ followed by like twenty seconds of ‘oh shit,’ then ‘oh, whew, they’re alive.’”
Dorian laughed. “Yeah, that’s pretty much normal.”
“Thanks for the moral support.” She started back down the hall, heading for the elevator.
He fell in step beside her. “If anyone ever came up with the perfect way to be a parent applicable to every possible situation, they’d already have published it and become a quadrillionaire—or whatever they call it when someone has so many damn credits they could buy the universe.”
“True.”
A triple beep—the alarm tone—came from her armband. “Lieutenant Wren, copy?”
She stopped walking, raising her arm. The holo-panel scrolled open automatically, revealing the face of a dispatch doll, a relatively generic-looking mid-twenties woman. “Go ahead.”
“21-47 in progress at Bixton’s restaurant. Multiple reports of an active paranormal manifestation,” said the doll.
I haven’t even made it to my desk yet. “Understood. On the way.”
“Race you to the car,” said Dorian.
She shook her head and started running.
3
Going on a Rip
Eighteen minutes after leaving the garage, Kirsten dove her patrol craft out of the sky.
Bixton’s restaurant sat in the approximate middle of a block where the ground floors of residential high-rises all contained commercial properties. Restaurants, clothing stores, cybernetic boutiques, electronics shops, jewelry places, and so on stretched for miles in both directions. Thick pedestrian traffic scurried back and forth under a swarm of advert bots.
The nearest open street-side parking space to the restaurant sat a block and a half away, but only a few ground cars moved along the road. So… she swooped down, landing half on the sidewalk, blocking one lane. Intense snap-flashes from the emergency bar lights painted the surroundings blue in strobe, drawing the attention of any pedestrians not absorbed in augmented reality. Most stared at an all-black police hovercar, unsure what to make of it beyond wanting to get well away from the area before bullets started flying.
Kirsten leapt out and ran to the restaurant.
About twenty-eight people seated at tables, two waitresses, and a waiter all looked over as she shoved the door out of her way. She gazed around the room, everything appearing quite ordinary. No disruption, no one screaming, no mess, merely a bunch of people wondering why a cop barged in.
Dorian appeared on her right. “This is the coordinate Dispatch sent us.”
“Yeah… Dispatch?”
“Go ahead, lieutenant,” replied a generic female voice.
“I’m at the site of the 24-47, but there’s nothing going on here. Can you confirm my location is correct?”
“You are at the correct nav point, lieutenant.”
She glanced at Dorian. “Thanks, Dispatch. I’ll have a look around, but it seems like someone’s playing a prank on us.”
“Logged,” said the doll.
“I’ll check the back.” Dorian crossed the dining area to a hallway at the far end.
Kirsten glanced around at the people, most of whom continued staring at her. “Did anyone here call in a report of unexplained, possibly paranormal or psionic activity?”
“Yeah,” said a woman sitting alone. “Someone grabbed me, but no one was there.”
“Same here.” A man closer to where Kirsten stood pointed at his arm. “Felt like a kid tugging on my shirt for attention.”
“My drink flew off the table.” A teenage girl pointed at the floor.
Both waitresses talked at the same time about seeing various objects move on their own.
A woman with shoulder-length metallic silver hair rushed out from a flapping door at the back of the seating area, heading toward her. Upon noticing the woman had glowing violet irises, Kirsten scanned her surface thoughts, concerned she might be trying to use a psionic ability, but saw only the intention to plea for help.
“You’re from Division 0, right?” asked the woman as soon as she got close enough to talk.
“Yes.”
She offered a hand. “Alina Sandoval. I’m the manager. There’s a whole bunch of crazy shit going on in here.”
“Looks pretty quiet at the moment.”
Alina gestured at the door. “That’s because the four customers who suffered the worst attacks already ran out.”
“What happened?” Kirsten raised her left arm, opening the holo-panel to create an Inquest record.
“Plates and stuff flying off tables. One lady had her dress torn halfway off. Another man fell when the chair shot out from under him, and the other woman… umm.” Alina looked around, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Lost her underpants in the bathroom.”
“Lost?”
Alina whispered, “She said something ripped them off her.”
Dorian phased through the wall, his body wispy and glowing for a second before regaining its normal lifelike appearance. “Nothing in sight.”
Theodore? Kirsten tapped her foot. Sure, despite his age, he still liked to scare people and did have a fondness for getting more than a little handsy with women. However, she doubted he’d been here. Not only did the place lack the residual energy a ghost as old as him would leave behind, no one complained of an ‘ice finger’ in a sensitive place.
She squirmed at the memory.
Also, Theodore didn’t do ‘annoying’ things, like throwing food around, yanking chairs out from under people, and so forth. When he got playful, he scared the crap out of people. Or made political statements, like ripping the skirt off the politician who wanted to shut down Sanctuary Park in the middle of her speech and making her chase it around the park.
“Hey!” shouted a man in the back hall. “Get off!”
Alina twisted to look. “Here we go again. Whatever’s doing this loves the bathrooms.”
“On it,” said Kirsten.
She jogged across the dining room to the hallway. A door close on the left bore a sign reading ‘kitchen – employees only’. Thirty feet away, two bathrooms stood opposite each other on the left and right. Another door at the end presumably led to the alley behind the building.
“What the fuck?” yelled a man in the left bathroom, grunting as if struggling.
A frustrated feminine growl followed.
Kirsten approached the door. “Are you okay in there?”
“Something’s yanking on my damn shirt. Ripped it.”
Sensing a buildup of paranormal energy, she took a step back. A woman phased through the closed door, phantasmal vapor surrounding her otherwise naked body for a few seconds until she reintegrated to a visually solid form. She looked hyper manic, as if she’d consumed thirty pots of high-grade espresso. Her lavender hair fluffed out into a ball, awash in crackling sparks. Water dripped down her body, forming a spectral puddle around her feet.
Between her nakedness and the water, Kirsten assumed she’d died in the autoshower.
The ghost disregarded Kirsten, heading toward the dining area.
Dorian clamped a hand over his mouth, seemingly fighting the urge to laugh.
“Umm, hey?” Kirsten trailed after her.
The spirit walked up behind a seated woman and tried to grab her dress, yanking on it with enough force to tear the material from collar to beltline. Screaming, the victim fought back, pulling on the dress in a tug of war until the spirit dragged her out of her chair to the floor.
“Stop that!” yelled Kirsten, pushing at the ghost with her astral psionics, somewhat like how Telekinetics could move objects using their mind.
Emitting a startled yelp, the naked ghost slipped in her puddle and landed on her butt.
“What the hell?” shouted the torn-dress woman.
“Knock it off,” yelled Kirsten. “What are you doing?”
“Uhh…” The man blinked. “Giving her something to cover—”
“Not you, the ghost.” Kirsten pulled at the spirit, trying to hold her back from stealing the coat.
Giving up on her first target, the ghost whirled, grabbing the skirt of the first woman’s friend. Dorian ran up and seized the ghostly woman’s arm, stopping her from tearing the fabric.
“Eep! It’s got my skirt!” The other woman grasped the garment in the same spot the ghost did.
“Let go.” Kirsten stared at the chaotic spirit. “Hey. Over here. Look at me. I can see you.”
The ghost squirmed away from Dorian, ran through Kirsten, and grabbed the shirt of the man who gave his coat to the torn-dress woman.
Grr. Kirsten channeled her power into her body, making herself solid to spirits. She whirled and grabbed the ghost by both wrists, peeling her grip away from the guy’s shirt.
He squealed, backpedaling, most of the color draining out of his cheeks. “W-what the hell is going on here?”
“Ghost playing pranks.” Kirsten spun the female spirit around to face her, still holding her wrists. “Talk to me.”
“Holy shit! You’re touching me.” The wet spirit squirmed in a half-hearted attempt to pull away. “Wow, yeah. You’re solid.”
Dorian looked the woman over. “Autoshower malfunction?”
“No. A stupid bot crashed into the tub and electrocuted me. I’m stuck like this, and now it won’t stop,” yelled the ghost.
“Wow, a tub?” Kirsten blinked. “People still have those?”
“Nicer apartments and actual houses do,” said Dorian.
“I can’t stay naked all the time.” The ghost tried to pull away from Kirsten again, hard enough to seem like a genuine effort to get away. “I’m not a damn Neko.”
The Shadow Fixer Page 4
