Bonds Broken & Silent

by Kris Austen Radcliffe

  Shipping companies. Places where “artifacts” would come in and out of the country.

  Daisy closed her eyes. They’d been hiding like rats because her mom had sticky fingers.

  She put her hand over the phone and addressed the doctor. “You’ve been hiding, too, haven’t you?” Just like her. Hiding out trying to not be noticed and all of a sudden his life was flooded by cops and Burners and not-gods all because they’d sniffed out Daisy. The poor guy was like some fugitive who’d cleaned up his act, settled down, and started a good life only to accidently wake up some morning with the FBI storming his neighbor’s house.

  The doctor nodded. “Yes.”

  “What’d you steal?”

  The doctor frowned. “If I tell you what happened, it will connect you in the present to the threads of my past. And it will make you more visible to Fates.”

  “And that’s bad?” But then again, everything seemed to be bad.

  Both the doctor and the woman on the phone spoke at the same time. “Yes.”

  Dr. Torres pulled into the parking lot of a crappy-looking apartment building. One that looked crappier than hers, which took some effort on the part of the residents. Daisy’s neighbors seemed to pride themselves on the fine-tuned negligence they all seemed so good at.

  This building had the same peeling paint and junk on its sagging balconies. The same old, rusted cars in the parking lot. And the same potholes in the pavement.

  The doctor didn’t turn off the car. “Give me the phone.”

  She handed it over, figuring arguing wouldn’t make a damned bit of difference, as clueless as she was about this whole situation.

  Shifters? Okay, sort of got that. And they keep saying I’m one, too. Daisy stared at her hand. Maybe if she concentrated, she could turn her skin green and scaly. Her muscles tensed. She squinted, willing “iguana” at her hand.

  Nothing happened.

  She flopped against the seat, a headache starting.

  And Fates? He said they weren’t gods. But the woman knew information like she could read minds. Which, when Daisy thought about it, probably did make them more dangerous than that Burner who chased her into the road.

  “Wait.” Daisy pointed at the phone. “Why the hell did she let me get hit by a car?” What kind of person did that?

  The doctor pulled the phone away from his ear. “Because she’s a Fate and they’re all assholes, correct?”

  The “correct” was meant for the caller, not Daisy. An indistinct yell popped from the phone and the doctor pulled it away from his ear again.

  Daisy snickered.

  Dr. Torres grinned.

  He probably was a really good daddy. His little girl was lucky.

  But his face grew serious again and he turned away to look out the driver’s side window, like it would make all the difference between Daisy hearing and not. “You talk to me now.” He paused. “Why?” Another pause. “No more Burners.”

  Dr. Torres glanced over at her, but he looked resigned. The way she suspected he’d look if his boss just told him to clean the bathroom or something just as gross. “I won’t do it. She’s not active.”

  Daisy threw her arms into the air. “What does ‘active’ mean, anyway?”

  “You’re just like any other normal until a parent activates your abilities.” The doctor’s eyebrow went up like he’d gotten an idea. “Mostly like any other normal. Though you seem to already have an enthraller’s nose.”

  “So once my mom… activates… me, I’ll be like you? I’ll be able to heal people?” Sweet. And she’d be able to protect herself from assholes like that homeless guy.

  The doctor turned away again. “Maybe. If your mother is a Shifter.” Another pause and his attention turned back to the phone. “Yes, I want to know what her abilities will be.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know for sure because you can’t see. Nice excuse, Fate.”

  He pulled the phone away from his ear again when the woman yelled.

  “It’s not going to happen!” He handed it over to Daisy without saying anything else.

  Daisy put it to her ear. “The future hinges on what I am about to tell you,” the woman said. “The doctor needs to run. He must hide until he’s needed again. Your job is to make sure all eyes stay on you.”

  “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” Yessiree, her mom stole something bright and shiny and now a big old spotlight glared down on Daisy. “Should I run out into the road again while juggling chainsaws? What about my mom?”

  The doctor pointed at the phone. “Tell her I will not run until I know my family is safe. And you and your mother. Fate be damned.” He had that look of determination about him that guys get when they were dared to do something stupid. That fuck you air they put on when called a pussy.

  The doctor was about to eat the super-hot pepper. Or drive his dad’s car a hundred miles an hour over the speed limit. And he dared a Fate to tell him otherwise.

  “He damned well better do as—”

  Daisy cut the call. Just like that. She hung up on the Fate because right now, the woman wasn’t helping. “We need to make a plan.”

  Chapter Seven

  The Fate called back. Daisy hung up again. The next call, Daisy made the woman explain a few more things.

  The doctor stopped at a diner, so they could discuss it all.

  “The Fate said you can’t go back to your house.” Daisy tapped the corner of a grimy salt shaker on the chipped surface of the table between her and the doctor. He’d ordered a burger. She hadn’t wanted anything but he told her to eat anyway.

  Dr. Torres bit into his burger but didn’t respond. Her burrito tasted good, actually, not too soft and not too crisp on the outside. And the cheese tasted fresh, not greasy. This place had good salsa, as well. She took a bite.

  The doctor swallowed and sat back against the booth’s squeaky fake red leather. They’d picked a lonely, shadow-filled corner. When the waitress came over, he’d immediately filled the air with that ‘trust’ scent again. Then he launched into some story about visiting colleges with his daughter and how this place looked so good they had to stop, and the middle-aged woman waddled her middle-aged ass away, obviously thinking he was the best dad ever.

  Which Daisy was beginning to think he might just be. Because no matter what that Fate told them, he wasn’t going to run away without saying good-bye to his eleven-year-old.

  “If I vanish, Rysa won’t take it well.” He took another bite of his burger.

  His kid’s name was Rysa, which was pretty, Daisy had to give him that. He said it meant “laughter,” but she already knew that because she took Spanish as her second language.

  Daisy picked at her burrito. “No, your daughter won’t take it well. But she’ll take it even worse if you get yourself killed. Or a… triad… finds her and her mom.” She still didn’t quite understand the politics of what was happening. But she did understand the danger involved.

  And the doctor seemed to trust the Fate who called at what now seemed to be random-but-not-random intervals. Though every other sentence out of his mouth was “Never trust a Fate.” Then he’d make a little twitch with his cheek and lip. The man had a Fate tell.

  He did the same little twitch when he talked about his wife. So Daisy wondered, though she thought it best not to come right out and ask. The Fate on the phone told her explicitly “not to ask questions beyond what you need to know in the present moment.” Said something about “the less you know, the better hidden you will be from a future-seer,” which echoed what Dr. Torres said.

  Like that made sense.

  She’d picked up what she figured was the basics about the Fates, besides the whole past-present-future bonded triad thing: They called themselves Parcae because, as the doctor said, they tend to be assholes who think they’re in charge. He said “Parcae” sounded more like what assholes would call themselves than “Fates,” so they went old-school with the Latin. Daisy shrugged.

  The Shift
ers had a Latin name too and she remembered the Fate telling her what it was. She laughed when the doctor said it again because it sounded like some superhero gang. Dr. Torres had smiled at that. Though he wasn’t smiling now.

  He tapped the table and fidgeted. Every time someone entered or exited the diner, he got distracted.

  Poor guy was totally stressed out.

  “My daughter is having a… difficult time with school right now.” He pushed at his fries. “With life.” His face scrunched up like someone had just punched him, but then it cleared and he looked over her shoulder at the door to the kitchen.

  He seemed paralyzed. Like he didn’t know what to do. But he was a doctor, so he should know.

  “What would you do if she got hurt?” Maybe talking to him in a doctor-patient way would help. “With lots of different wounds to different parts of her body.”

  His eyes grew wide for a moment and his shoulders tensed.

  Maybe “wounds” wasn’t the best way to describe what Daisy meant. “I didn’t mean to make you more stressed.” What was she saying?

  But he shook it off. “I’d heal the worst right away.” He didn’t sigh, though Daisy suspected he wanted to. “Then triage the rest. But there are some problems even class-ones can’t fix.”

  He’d explained the Shifter rating system to her, too, and at least it made sense: Class-ones were rare and super powerful, class-twos less so. Class-threes not much at all.

  Dr. Torres didn’t say, but Daisy got the impression he might be one of the rarities. Again, she thought it best to keep her mouth shut, like the Fate said.

  But he gave off an aura. She couldn’t really put her finger on what it felt like. It sort of tingled, but it didn’t. Sort of like that split-second between when something caught the attention of the instinctive part of her brain and when her thinking brain put a label on it. That fraction of time when she knew something was there, but before she actually understood what it was. His aura felt like that. She just didn’t know what it was.

  When she finally activated, she wondered if she’d give it off, too.

  “Then focus on the greatest threats,” she said. “The ones she needs the most protection from. And trust her mom to help her through the chronic stuff.” Daisy poked her fork into the last of her burrito. “I think that’s probably what my mom did. She hauled my butt out of Perth and into the States because we probably needed to get away from people who could seriously hurt us. I suspect the… artifact… she stole was an insurance policy.” At least that was the story Daisy would continue to tell herself. She didn’t want to think about what the alternative meant.

  Her mom worked hard. They didn’t have money, so her mom hadn’t sold whatever it was. And she’d always thought they hid because they were, technically, here illegally.

  But being illegal won’t get you killed.

  Daisy stuffed the last bite of her burrito into her mouth. “What do you think the artifact is?” The Fate refused to tell either her or the doctor what it was. Said it best not to talk about it.

  The doctor looked up at the ceiling. His fingers tapped on the table again. “It’s a talisman. It’s always about their talismans, with the Fates. But who it belongs to is anyone’s guess.”

  Talismans. “Great. More not-god mumbo jumbo.”

  The doctor chuckled. “They’re metal objects that focus a triad’s seers. Sort of give them a context through which to view the world.” He chuckled again. “They’re arrogant enough to think their talismans are more important than anything else.” He rolled his eyes. “More important than antibiotics. More important than enough food to feed the planet. Or clean water. Or technology and science in general.”

  The more he talked about the Fates, the less Daisy liked them—though she was beginning to hear the voice of her social studies teacher in the back of her mind. He paced back there, reciting his lessons about human psychology, cultural stereotyping, and prejudice. So Daisy made a conscious effort to continue gathering data on their mysterious angel-Fate who seemed to be determined to “protect the correct path,” whatever that meant.

  Dr. Torres stuffed the last of his meal into his mouth and pushed away his plate. “It’s not just Fates. There are groups of Shifters who have acquired a great deal of power. They are, for the most part, as bad for the world as the Fates. Your mom likely stole from one such syndicate.”

  Daisy hadn’t thought of that. “Like the Yakuza or the Mob?”

  He sniffed and sat back, nodding. “I used to work for one. I don’t anymore.”

  “Oh.” So the man sitting across from her was an ex-Mob doctor.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the door, like he expected to have someone neither of them wanted to see burst in at any second. “Just be careful about who you do business with.”

  Maybe her mom knew a whole hell of a lot more than she let on. “I don’t think my mom would keep that kind of secret from me. She wants me safe.” But then again, she’d never told Daisy her father’s name.

  But maybe not telling was to protect Daisy.

  “I want Rysa safe. I want her to know, so she doesn’t end up pursued, like you.” He dug out his wallet and pulled enough cash for the meal, tip included. “Guess I stop using the credit cards, huh?” He looked sad.

  Sad like he’d just acknowledged that he was, in fact, about to run. And vanish.

  Just like that. No more fretting. No more flipping back and forth between options. Just “Yep, time to do what the Fate said,” like he had attention deficit disorder or something, like half the boys in Daisy’s school. A lot of them did shit like that. Flopping around and then bam! Off doing the least expected version of what they might do. Because, in the precise moment they made up their mind, it had been the option that swirled up to the surface. How the hell did he get through medical school?

  “So you’re not going home?” It might let them gather more information, at least.

  He dropped the money on the table. “Like you said, I need to trust that Rysa’s mother will do the right thing.” Frowning, he stared at the remnants of her burrito. “And that your mother will, as well.”

  So they were going to her home. To talk to her mom. And to figure out why she kept secrets.

  And maybe activate Daisy.

  She was going to be a superhero. A real life, powered-up, super-being. Someone who might be able to enthrall strangers and make them do whatever she wanted them to do. Or, the doctor had told her, she might become a real changeling and be able to shapeshift, though it sounded like it took practice and wasn’t a “form of a lion!” kind of thing.

  Or maybe she’d be able to do what he did, and lay her hands on someone else’s pain and make it go away.

  She’d like that one the best.

  The doctor scooted out of the booth and offered his hand to help her out. “At the very least, we need to find out if your mother is able to activate you. You’ll be safer once we know what your abilities are.”

  He wasn’t telling her everything. She could tell. And she was beginning to think that a level-up to superhero might not be enough to get her through a trial-by-Burner.

  The little bell over the diner’s door jingled when they walked out into the early evening heat. Daisy hadn’t called her mom yet. She’d be home soon, walking into their closed-up apartment, wondering where her daughter was.

  “We should go,” Daisy said. Her mom must be worried by now.

  The doctor looked her up and down. Nodding once, he motioned her toward his car.

  Chapter Eight

  Daisy pulled her apartment key out of her pocket. She should change clothes, too. The car that hit her tore a hole in her jeans and even though it looked “cool” she didn’t like it. And if she was about to become a superhero, she should probably change into something more… she didn’t know. Distracting? Garish? Stretchy?

  But Dr. Torres looked like everyone else, except for the whole man-mountain thing. Which was actually kind of cool. It meant the pool of Shifter b
oys she’d soon have access to would be brimming with the tall and the handsome, something she could wholeheartedly appreciate.

  Not that being tall bothered her. But it did make her stand out in a crowd.

  The doctor followed her along the cracked walk to the back entrance of their building. He did that weird nose-crinkling sniffing thing again, the same thing he did when the Burner showed at the clinic, like he was testing the air for the presence of assholes.

  “You need to teach me how to do that.” Walking backward toward the door, Daisy pointed at his nose. “So no one sneaks up on me again.”

  He grinned. “The smells are called ‘calling scents.’”

  Daisy skipped around the picnic table that one of her idiot neighbors had flipped a week ago and was still on its side. “Do all Shifters have calling scents? Will I be able to smell my own kind?”

  “No. Shifter abilities vary much more than the Fates or the Burners. We’re mercurial.” He dodged the picnic table, too. “This place is a rat hole.”

  “You think?” Daisy yanked on the door. It was supposed to be locked but half the time it wasn’t. It swung open. “What’s ‘mercurial’ mean?”

  The doctor stopped at the bottom of the steps and stared at her all father-like. “What do you think it means?”

  Daisy smiled. “I think it means I’d better start studying now for my SATs.”

  Dr. Torres laughed. “It means quick and changeable, like mercury.”

  “Ah…” She held the door for him and he stuck his head in, sniffing again. “We good?” she asked.

  He stepped into the cramped foyer at the bottom of the back stairway. Bare concrete steps led up to the second and third floors, where her apartment was. One of those emergency lighting-smoke detector things hung off the wall where the steps turned the corner and Daisy doubted it worked anymore.

  The place really was a dump. But it was what her mom could afford.

  Dr. Torres looked down at her face. “You sniff.”