Garvin was the only one that knew what I could do and that was only because of his own dogged persistence. I had no desire to add to that number. In fact I itched to pack up and leave town knowing someone like the cop was nearby. This had been the longest I had stayed in one place and it was only because of my friendship with Garvin.
My eyes held steady on the road as I ran but my thoughts went back to four years earlier. The night I had cast the illusion that would save Garvin and reveal my own secret in the process.
I was exhausted. I blamed my carelessness on that alone. I knew better. I had survived the streets since I was twelve without once revealing my ability. But I had just finished a double shift at my waitressing job on top of pulling a late shift the night before at my job as a bartender. I was running on less than three hours of sleep in a twenty four hour period and I was pissed at the sight in front of me.
I saw them from a distance, there was no way I could miss them. They were smack dab in the way of me getting home to my lumpy bed. The one I had found at Goodwill and thrown on the floor of my studio apartment. I was proud of that lumpy ass mattress that was the best I could afford and I wanted to be sleeping on it. Not dealing with three guys beating up on some kid in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He was on the ground covering his head as they kicked at him when I walked up. I should have been frightened but that was an emotion I had stopped feeling years before. It took a second for them to realize I was standing there. The street around us was conspicuously absent of people. Everyone knew these guys and worked to avoid them. No one would cross them and the cops had abandoned this neighborhood years ago. My presence alone was a small miracle. I had agreed to work the extra shift for a girl that called in sick otherwise I would be in my bed right now.
The kid they were beating up was the first to recognize my presence. While his next words would earn him my respect there was no way I would leave him here.
“Go, run.” He groaned looking up at me from eyes almost swollen shut. “RUN!” I could tell the effort to tell me to run cost him. He gasped and moaned from the pain, clutching his ribs. A taunt from one of the guys brought my attention back to them.
“You like pansy boys?” He commented, posturing. Shaved head, piercings, and tats covered him. They were Hispanic from what I could tell. Angry, violent bullies and my least favorite type of people.
“I don’t know. Are you a pansy? Cause I don’t like you.” I responded watching as he finally comprehended the insult. “Took you long enough. We won’t list intelligent as one of your strong suits.”
“Bitch, you don’t know who you’re messing with.” One of them growled. It was remarkably difficult to tell them apart. I didn’t want to be racist but it was dark and they shared a similar style. I imagined their mothers would have difficulty knowing which one they had given birth to. When I mentioned that to them they became even more pissed off, amusing me to no end. My laughter cut off when one said, “We are going to fuck you up good.”
“I think not.” I answered quietly. I heard a painful whimper at my feet and saw him looking up at me. He mouthed, “Run” again but that wasn’t happening.
I knew basic fighting skills. You had to if you expected to keep what was yours when you were on the streets. But tonight I would need more so I summoned all the energy I had and cast the illusion.
They were huge bastards, I noted, as they prowled closer. Burly and oozing with barely leashed rage they formed a barrier between us and our attackers. I had to admire my own taste as well. If I was going to conjure my own fight squad at least they could be good looking hunks of testosterone.
“Wha..” He muttered and I looked down again at him. I had kind of hope he had passed out from the pain by now but apparently not. His eyes were as wide as they could go as he looked at our protectors. “How…” He looked at me but I had to focus. Our cocky aggressors had shifted back at the addition of our silent behemoths. I could feel the exhaustion pull at me as I held the illusion. I knew I didn’t have much time to make an impression so I gave it my all. I had one of my guys throw a punch at the bastard that called me a bitch. The heavy thud that should have accompanied a hit like that was absent but our bad guy reeled and hit the ground like it was a knockout. The other two guys backed up and looked ready to run so I pushed one of my guys forward as a threat.
“We don’t want trouble.” One of the guys stuttered. They grab their fallen friend and dragged him to a car. Seconds later they’ve peeled out and my illusion collapsed. My knees hit the pavement next to the guy I rescued and I swayed as I attempted to stay upright.
“We need to go. They’ll be back.” I muttered, forcing myself up and pulling on him.
“What the hell?” Is what I think he said but it was difficult to tell through his split and swollen lip. He helped me get him up but I could tell movement was painful for him. We weren’t far from my apartment and I wasn’t going to make it any further tonight. Not without sleep. I had never tried to cast an illusion that powerful when exhausted. It had taken more out of me than I realized. I tugged him forward even as I used him to support myself. We must have made an interesting sight leaning on one another as we shuffled to my apartment.
“That was incredible.” The guy said, at least that was my interpretation based on his busted lip and the slight slur that made me think he had a concussion.
“Uh huh.” I managed to mutter, desperately wanting to curl up on the concrete sidewalk and sleep. But I knew those guys would be back with friends. Their pride would allow nothing less. Years of dealing with pricks exactly like them had taught me all I needed to know. It was probably time to move. There would be no way to avoid them on their own turf and I knew this neighborhood belonged to them. Playing it smart and avoiding situations like this had kept me alive for years.
I couldn’t stop my swell of disappointment at the thought of leaving. This was the first time I had been able to get a place and attempt to make it my own. The guy next to me shifted a bit, supporting more of my weight as I swayed. Gratitude trickled through me. I wouldn’t regret saving him. Too many times I had watched people turn their backs on situations like that one out of fear or apathy. More than once I had been the one they turned their back on.
“Here.” I stopped in front of a shabby building, ignoring the intercom system that allowed you to buzz each apartment since it had never worked that I knew of. He shoved the door open and looked at the flight of stairs.
“Guess you don’t have a downstairs unit, huh?” My mouth quirked in an attempt to smile but the thought of climbing three flights of stairs almost had me collapsing right there. I shook my head and held up three fingers. He nodded grimly and readjusted his hold on me. Somewhere along the way I had become the one needing help more so than the guy I was rescuing. The climb up those stairs was a special form of torture. I could hear him breathing heavily as we made it onto the landing and I hoped one of those broken ribs he had didn’t puncture a lung. He pulled me to the door on the left but I stopped him. I indicated the right and he shook his head. I was persistent though.
“There’s nothing there.” He argued, gesturing at the blank wall. I blinked at my door surprised my illusion had held even in my current state of exhaustion.
“Trust me.” I muttered, opening the door I never bothered to lock.
“Whoa!” He said as I walked through what appeared to be a wall to him. He followed me in, his eyes enormous as he saw the door and the apartment.
“Shut the door.” I barked, making a beeline for the mattress on the floor. I didn’t bother getting between the sheets, instead collapsing on top of the $5 comforter I purchased at the Salvation Army. “Don’t die. Don’t touch anything. If you’re still here in the morning I’ll explain.” My words were muffled against the bed but he heard me because he said, “Oh, I’m not going anywhere.” I groaned at the thought but sleep wouldn’t be denied any longer and my eyes slipped closed.
The light shining brightly in my ey
es woke me the next day. I blinked disoriented. My bed faced the west so the sun wouldn’t wake me up in the morning. So I couldn’t understand why it was shining in my eyes.
“Sleeping Beauty finally wakes.” My hand clutched the knife under my pillow at the unexpected male voice even as the prior night came rushing back. My head dropped to the pillow and I rolled over. “I was hoping that was a bad dream.”
“Me too but even I couldn’t dream up a white woman saving my black ass with voodoo.” The voice sang above me. “Coffee?” My eyes blinked open at that. He held a cup out to me and I got my first good look at him.
He was ugly.
There was no kinder way of stating it. His eyes were swollen shut and the rest of his face was puffy and misshapen. His skin was oddly discolored and I honestly doubted his own mother would recognize him at the moment.
“Damn. You look like Quasimodo.” I told him, wincing slightly in sympathy. “Can you see anything?”
“I made coffee, didn’t I?” My lips twitched at his words. The split and swollen lip garbled his words, amusing me. I could tell he rolled his eyes at me by the movement of his head even without being able to see his actual eye roll. I sipped at the coffee and was pleasantly surprised at the taste. He saw my surprise and shook his head. “You have to clean the coffee pot occasionally.” I tilted my head and raised my mug in acknowledgement.
“So you’re a voodoo priestess?” He asked me excitedly. “My grandmother always warned me about the voodoo but I didn’t believe her. She came from New Orleans and they different down there.” He said with a flutter of his arm. I was beginning to see why this particular black man was targeted by my neo Nazi loving neighbors.
Out of his excited chatter I had one question.
“What’s voodoo?”
“Seriously? Did you just crawl out from under a rock?” There was no disguising the indignant tone in his voice at my apparent ignorance. “What is voodoo?” He repeated to himself mocking me. He looked at me. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” I raised my eyebrow at him, wondering if he was done with his little rant. He sighed heavily. “It’s a religion that is also a form of witchcraft.” I nodded slowly. I could see where my actions from the night before would give him the impression that I was a voodoo priestess. It was also going to make it more difficult to persuade him that he had imagined what really happened.
“Oh, don’t even think about it, girlie. You passed right on out last night but I remember clearly what happened. You conjured those gorgeous pieces of man flesh to protect us.” He waved at my apartment door. “And don’t forget the disappearing door. Felt like I was in a Harry Potter movie.” I opened my mouth to deny it and watched as he shook his head. “Nu huh. I checked again this morning. There is no door that I could see. So whatever you got going on here is not exactly normal.”
I snapped my mouth shut before I caught a fly. Maybe I was still exhausted but I couldn’t figure out a suitably convincing lie to tell this strange man that had unexpectedly invaded my life.
“I can’t believe the door illusion held.” I finally muttered. His head tilted back as he realized I was going to tell him.
“It’s not voodoo. Whatever the hell that is.” He frowned at me but I only shrugged. I didn’t know about religion or witchcraft. All I knew was that from the time I was twelve I could make people see things that weren’t really there. Twelve years later and I still didn’t know the how or why of it but I did know to keep it a secret. For my sake as well as those that exhibited a bit too much curiosity about me. “They’re illusions.”
Suddenly the door crashed open and the three assholes from last night spilled in. My apparent savior jumped in front of me and screeched, “Get out, you crazy freaks!” I admired the fact that he called the violent criminals freaks instead of me. As one of them stepped forward, my new found friend gave an incredibly girlish shriek and flung a dish towel at him. The dish towel flew straight through him and landed on the floor. As I dropped the illusion I heard him gasp.
“Holy shit.” He looked at me in awe that quickly turned to anger. “That was terrifying.” He swatted at me. “What the hell was that? I made you coffee!”
“Figured you needed an example.” I told him nonchalantly. I pulled myself up from the mattress. “You should know exactly what I’m capable of. If I wanted they could have beat you again and you would have felt it. Some illusions are as dangerous as the reality they portray.” My warning seemed to have an effect on him as he turned away from me. I ignored my disappointment. Friends were something I couldn’t afford in my life.
He spun back around surprising me. He shook his finger in my face as he said, “Don’t do that again! If we gonna be friends I have to trust you and if I never know what’s real then how am I gonna do that? Huh?”
My mouth opened and closed like a fish caught on dry land. I finally shut it and stared at him in shock. “Well, I know a cat ain’t got your tongue so are we chill?” I nodded mutely. This was the first time I had ever been forcibly friended by someone and my first friend would be someone so completely and utterly alien to me.
“Good.” He looked around my tiny studio apartment. The ratty old mattress on the floor, the complete lack of any other furniture, and the single chipped mug he’d served me coffee in. “I would say pack your stuff up, but nothing here is worth packing.” My look was both offended and questioning. “You can’t stay here. I’m taking you home to my momma.” He replied as if it should be obvious. I shook my head at his assumption. I knew I couldn’t stay here any longer but going home with a man I had just met didn’t really fall in the category of smartest thing I had ever done either. We stared at each other, a contest of wills with neither looking away until I finally gave in with a muttered, “Fine.” I could use the opportunity to move on, it didn’t mean I had to stay.
“Perhaps I should know your name if you’re going to introduce me to your momma.” I told him, grabbing my backpack to throw my clothes into. Some part of me always knew I would have to leave in a hurry. It had been that way for so long, the habits were ingrained into me. He gave a sideways glance at my worn backpack and I wondered about his life. Where was he from that hauling everything you owned in a backpack was unusual? It had been a way of life in foster care and the simplest way when living on the streets.
“Garvin Mouton.” He answered me and I frowned.
“Marvin?” I asked thinking I misunderstood him and his split lip.
“GARvin.” He enunciated. “Like Marvin Gaye?” I blinked at him.
“That would be Marvin. Not GARvin.” I responded sarcastically.
“I’ll let my momma explain.” He answered with an airy wave. I shook my head, wondering what the hell had happened to my life.
I slung my backpack over my shoulder and took a last look around. I thought this would be the beginning of a different life for me. One where I didn’t constantly have to move around, a place I could put roots down, maybe take the time to find my sisters. I sighed and hitched the bag holding my worldly possessions a little higher on my shoulder. Maybe next time.
“Are you going to tell me your name?” Garvin asked, glancing at me. I looked at him and debated telling him the name I had been given by the state when I was put in the foster care system. Somehow it didn’t feel right so for the first time in eighteen years I uttered the name I had been given at birth.
“Sinclair Davis.”
UNBOUND
Hidden Truths (The Hidden Series Book 1) Page 18
