by Sandra Elsa
Rollick failed to hold up his end. He went all serious on me. "He's lived alone for three years now; I know he doesn't eat out every night on what we make."
"I've lived alone since my mom died. I cook supper once a week, if that."
"The bacon and eggs were in your fridge."
"That would be supper."
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize. Kinda liked having breakfast ready when I got up."
Rollick smirked. Wally turned pink.
"He slept on the couch. Don't get any stupid ideas." I pushed the button on my cell. "I have an appointment to keep. Guess I should at least tell this guy no in person."
"Want me to ride along?"
I glanced over at Wally perched hopefully on the edge of his seat, as though considering the possibility, then slowly shook my head. "No…if he has the money I'll be talking shop for God only knows how long, and you need to be at HQ by two."
He slumped back in his chair. "Stay safe, Frankie."
"Later guys."
I almost made it out the door before Wally caught up with me. "If we're both still alive and not in jail tonight, Frankie, do you want to go catch a tri-D."
"I’m not big on movies, Wally."
"Dinner then. I know you eat. Just dinner. Nothing more."
I didn't want to encourage him. Nor did I want to make him an enemy. "District Thirty-eight." Thirty-eight was wild and wooly. The residents liked to pretend they were pioneers. No horses. No cows. But they lived rough. It was a fun place to visit, but hardly romantic.
"Big John's?"
"Sounds good, Wally"
"Want me to pick you up when I get off work?" He stretched a hand toward my shoulder, then wisely dropped it.
"Sure. I slept little enough last night I may pass out waiting on you. Pound on the door, but don't let yourself in. My wards will light you up." I started to back out the door I'd been holding open
"Keep your phone near your bed. I'll call when I'm on the way. In the meantime, we'll see you this afternoon."
"Four o'clock. Some faraway district…on some dark street corner."
"Don't make it too dangerous, Frankie, or he'll back out."
"So much the better." I liked Wally, but he had a few dense moments. "Unfortunately, the man probably thinks he's so all-powerful nobody can hurt him. I doubt I could pick someplace he'd refuse to meet."
"After what you told me, I guess I understand you not wanting to meet up with a mage, but please don't antagonize the man on my watch."
I stepped backward through the door. "No promises, Wally."
He matched me step for step. "Guess if you agreed, I’d have to wonder why you were lying to me."
My phone rang. The moment I flipped the phone open, Harrison said, "I need 'til twelve-thirty to get the money."
"Just a minute." I turned to where Wally tried peering over my shoulder to see the caller's phone number. "I've got to go. I'll see you later, Wally." I strolled out the door, but didn't say a word until I was far enough away I knew even Rollick's sharp ears wouldn't hear me. "You're sure you'll have it by then?"
"Yes. My mother has some friends that are helping her get it. And don't roll your eyes. She'll repay it with my money, but as you pointed out, my father would certainly notice if I transferred my own money."
Well damn, he was listening. I jumped in my car and merged into traffic going in the direction of the gate. "All right. I'm on my way to Seventeen meet me at noon as planned. I'm hungry, and this way I'll be able to eat without doing the mental gymnastics of staying one step ahead of a mage."
"I'm already wandering around over here."
"Well for god's sake buy yourself a hat and some sunglasses."
"Doesn't seem to be a problem." Dear God, he was arguing with me again. "I never realized how people avoid looking at you if you're injured or ugly."
"Buy the hat anyway." I clipped my words. "I guarantee the watch will notice you if you get in front of them, no matter how badly you shave. Did you use the antibiotic cream this morning?" I turned out of traffic and slowed for the gate to open.
"Yes, thank you." The humility of adding thank you seemed out of character. Maybe he was trying.
"All right. I'll see you in twenty minutes." The picket on the gate waved, and I sped down the road toward District Seventeen.
I parked three streets away from Romanelli's and walked toward it looking closely for people paying too much attention to the restaurant and their customers. Nobody stood out.
Harrison was there wearing a baseball cap and wraparound sunglasses. At least he obeyed, even if he gave me a hard time before doing so. I was pleased to see he'd taken it one step further and lost the bloody, white, button up shirt and dress slacks. He looked comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, and tennis shoes he must have bought right off of someone's feet because they definitely looked used. He watched the parking lot, glancing at his watch. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. "Looking for me, Lover Boy?"
He spun in my arms and stared into my eyes. "You're here."
"Told you I would be. By the way, I like this look. Shall we eat? I'm starved."
He tried to back away from me.
I held his belt loop. "Just relax. I'm not going to chew you up and spit you out. Try to look like we're close friends meeting for a private lunch. The only people who get noticed less than the injured and crippled, are lovers. Nobody wants to watch a public display of affection."
"So this isn't a black widow act?"
"Black widows mate before they kill their partners. That's not happening here."
"Forgive me for being a little nervous about being touched. Last woman I slept with nearly killed me."
I closed my eyes so he couldn't see me roll them. He thought entirely too much of himself. "We don't have that problem."
”No. You're not a siphon. You're better. A little sleep, a safe place to stay, I've had some time to think. You're a null."
Chapter 11
I dug my fingernails into Harrison’s side, keeping the smile on my face as he grimaced in pain. "Say that again and I don't care how much money you have, who your daddy is, or where we're standing at the moment, I’ll kill you. You wouldn't be the first mage I've killed. If you ever go back to Daddy and I end up being tested as what you just accused me of…I will win free long enough to carry out that threat. I simply meant we don't have that problem, because I have no intention of sleeping with you." Moisture seeped on my fingertips and I let go.
He sagged in relief and glanced down at his side before snatching napkins off an outside table and pressing them to the bloody gouge I left behind. "I didn't say it in a bad way. Didn't intend for you to think I’d consider turning you in. I think it means more to me as in, if you can hide out here…even work with the watch on occasion, there's hope for me."
"It's not hard. You just have to learn that magic is your last resort, not your first. If you're going to reveal yourself for what you are, it had better be worth the fire and brimstone that are sure to follow."
"Wow...you really don't like mages. Which is really funny when you consider that you're probably one of the most sought after resources in District Seven. Not only are you a null, but you can see magic. My father would probably marry you."
I kept the anger out of my voice. Lovers didn't get noticed, but everybody loved a good spat. "That's not going to happen, so get over it."
"You're meeting him this afternoon?"
"That, I don't have much choice in." I wrapped my arm around his waist holding the napkins in place over the gouge.
He boldly wrapped his arm over mine. "He's good at taking away your choices."
"My mother was a prostitute. I have plenty of friends, not only in District Eleven but scattered throughout the Founding Two-hundred. As long as I have friends, I have choices. And there are some choices I would take my own life rather than submit to."
He laughed, quieting as a waitress showed us to my usual table in a d
ark, relatively unpopulated corner of the restaurant. The waitress took our orders and walked away, while I glowered at him. "You think that's funny?"
"No. I think it's funny that we have something in common, besides being upper level mages."
"Let me guess, your mother's a pro too?" That shut him up long enough for me to examine the other customers.
He leaped back in the conversation as I concluded nobody in the restaurant cared one whit about the couple in the corner. "Why would you jump to that conclusion?"
"Consider the rest of my statement. I don't see the golden boy taking his own life, no matter what might happen. You're in my world and you're dealing with me, which tells me you have no friends and no choices, because I've tried hard to make this unpleasant for you. What's that leave?"
"I don't think I've ever met anybody who would accuse the president of fathering a child on a whore."
"Thirty years ago the mages treated District Eleven as their own private breeding ground. Plenty of the women have at least minor unregistered talent. Every now and then a mage would find somebody like my mother, who was the same as I. Birth control uses magic. They took away the protection against pregnancy. When they found out if they'd successfully created a new life, they forced the women to register as mages and took them from their homes to Seven where they lived under lock and key until they gave birth. If the child was talented, the pro stayed in Seven until she died from having one too many children got on her by a string of mages. If the child wasn't talented, and the mother’s talent only marginal; infant and pro were returned to Eleven."
Harrison sat back in his chair staring at me, complete disbelief written on his face. "I don't have any siblings."
"For all you know, we could be siblings."
"Considering the thoughts that ran through my head when you wrapped your arms around me, that statement is just---ewww..." He gave an exaggerated shudder.
"Don't sweat it. Never saw red eyes before you and your cousin."
"If what you're telling me is true, why weren't you brought up in District Seven?"
"Because my independence comes from my mother. Being what she was, magic-wise, she realized within twenty-four hours that she had a talented life growing within her. One of her friends had recently been dumped back in Eleven with an untalented infant and a couple thousand dollars of guilt money. Mom didn't wait for the john that impregnated her to return to claim what was his. She'd lived on the streets of Eleven her whole life, no skills, didn't know where to go, but she packed up, hopped the first bus out of Eleven and never looked back."
"She was a--"
I held my hand up and hushed him, before his excited voice could bellow the word null, into the quiet restaurant. "She was an innocent, with no grasp of how to use what she had, and no desire to live in a gilded cage."
We grew quiet as my pizza and his manicotti were delivered. I started eating while the waitress refilled my glass. He didn't pick up his fork. In fact he was starting to look a little numb.
Once the waitress left, I continued, "If anything you've told me so far is true, the gilded cage isn't to your liking either, so why would you even question her decision. She didn't make it to thirty years old so pampered the thought of starting over left her in tears and willing to pay a complete stranger for help."
"Ouch." He sucked in his breath as though I'd just sucker punched him.
"Yeah, well don't ever question my mother's reasons for the life she chose for us again. She got a regular job, became a citizen in District Six. Worked in manufacturing. We never had a lot, but we were happy. She taught me what little she knew about my magic and we picked up books of fiction that centered around mages, especially nulls. Being fiction, no alarms went off anywhere, and yet some of the authors either were nulls themselves, or they did a very thorough job of researching them."
"Have you ever used your talent around other mages?"
"Once. And I killed him. If you hadn't startled me the other night, I would have found a believable way out of your come-hither as well. There are ways, and there are ways, of doing things. My talent may have chewed yours to bits and swallowed it whole, but I'd have found a way to make it plausible yours just hadn't worked. Maybe graze you with a knife to disrupt your casting. Enough about me. Now I don't hold all the cards--I'm gambling my instinct is right about you and you’re exactly what you claim to be. Someone who wants desperately to stay free and alive."
He wiped his hands on his jeans. If he was nervous and sweating, he did a good job of hiding it. "You didn't have to tell me anything. I am completely at your mercy."
Yeah right… "You already figured out my deepest, darkest, secret. This spares us being noticed as you try to see whether you're right or not. Besides, the conversation outside the hospital wasn't exactly productive. Trust has to start somewhere. And I only have until about three o'clock for you to convince me to risk my career and my life, to help you. What makes you so special?"
He looked down at the plate in front of him, then back up at me. "When you put it that way...Maybe this isn't such a good idea."
Damn. So maybe he wasn't completely self-centered. "Now you have my interest. The spoiled brat doesn't just think of himself. OK, so we skip over the part where the siphon lured you out of the gilded cage, fucked your brains to mush, stole part of your magic, and her husband tried to get the rest of it with your death as a much more immediate goal. What changed to make you want to stay? So far the experience hasn't been very good."
He finally picked up his fork and started eating. Chewing was something his mouth did. His mind certainly wasn't on the food. "At first I was scared...I'd just killed someone. Nearly been killed. But as I cowered in that low rent room, imagining all sorts of horrible ends to my adventures, one thing crystallized in my mind. I survived. Me. All by myself. Not because my father's men stepped in and fixed the problem. But because I was strong enough to pull myself together and do what I had to do to survive. Do you know what a rush that is--Sorry--of course you do..." He stabbed another mouthful manicotti and started chewing.
I leaned forward and wrapped my free hand around his while he chose his next words. He squeezed my fingertips and seemed to forget what he was saying. His thumb rubbed the back of my knuckles. I squeezed hard to remind him this was an act.
His cheeks flushed a gentle pink and he swallowed the pasta and continued. "Well there I am, feeling more like a man than I've ever felt in my life, when this gorgeous woman pulls up in front of the building and greets some of the whores like they're good friends. So I--" he held up his hand staving off my snort of disgust, "let me tell it--"
"Some things are better left unsaid. So SuperStud imagines he's going to purchase some tail and drags out of the building..."
He frowned and shook his head in disagreement, probably with my phrasing but he continued without verbal argument. "I arrived on street level just in time to watch you duck and cover as the watch approached and I did the same thing. At which point I realize, I don't want them to find me. I don't want to go back. Watching you avoid them without being obvious made me hotter than the idea I could have bought you for the night. Like I said at the hospital, once I figured out who you were, my mind went into overdrive. I know my escape was little more than a good healthy dose of fear, driven by instinct, and I think; this woman who just casually sidestepped a dozen troopers could teach me a couple things. I was so disappointed when you came back walking between a pair of them, until it became obvious they were your friends--"
"OK, that's how you latched onto me. Now tell me why I should help you."
"You need a better reason than the fact that I'm willing to pay you two-thousand dollars a day?"
"Yes. Let's start with why your father is so desperate to get you back? It doesn't appear there's any love lost either way. Nobody outside District Seven knew you existed, so you're not a political pawn...Your mother is helping you get the money to pay me, so she retains enough of her roots to want you free. Which probably
means Mom thinks you have something to offer the world."
"When you look at my magic, what do you see?"
I closed my eyes and looked at him, wondering if his energy had undergone a transformation with rest and recovery. He looked the same. "Thunderclouds. Not the rainclouds the weather-geeks use to water the plants in the districts every Thursday, but dark roiling thunderclouds. The kind that roll over a dome once a year and sweep on, scouring the world."
"Cool. Most people who see anything, only see an ugly purple shade of energy. They discount the black. Think of it as holes--or to their minds a weakness in my ability."
"How can anybody think that? The black hums with potential. They're the most vibrant portions."
"Apparently you're more talented than ninety-nine percent of those few with the ability to read a person's energy that live in District Seven. Thunderclouds is a perfect description. I can make it rain."
"That makes you different from a manmade, seeded cloud, how?"
"I can operate anywhere I choose. Father monitors world condition outside the domes. Pollution has been cleansed to a point where he'll drive out, sit in an out of the way place and not only turn off the recyclers in his car, but get out and walk around. He claims he foresaw the changes. Spent a fortune trying to figure out how to take the annual thunderstorms and make them less deadly. Hold their water so they didn't just sluice off hard, unreceptive, ground and return to the oceans. He couldn't do it. Removing water from a dome is a death sentence to the dome's population, so he's limited to using the waters of the ocean and the saline content has only increased over the millennia. He's spent a fortune trying to figure out a way to literally grow his own country. Ever since I created a gentle spring rain as a twelve year old I haven't had a moment's peace. District Seven hasn't used their cloud generator in fifteen years."
He stopped speaking and stared at me staring at him.
"Can you?" I asked.
"I'd demonstrate but I'd never get away from Father again."
