by Eve Langlais
“I know,” he drawled. “They like to know the lineage of all their citizens. Although I’m sure they make exceptions for people with the right kind of magic.”
“There is no such thing as magic.”
“You keep saying it, sweetheart, but we both know you’ve got something happening with your hands.”
“I don’t.”
“Really? Let’s test that, shall we?” On a hunch, he reached out, his fingers brushing her leg, startling her.
Her fingers clasped his, and he laced them together.
“How does the healing work?” he asked. “Touch is the most obvious aspect since the heating only occurred when you placed your fingers on me. Do you need to picture the injury? Think about how you’re going to fix it to activate your power?”
She snorted. “It’s not power, just science. I use a blend of ingredients. Herbs mostly, blended with fatty agents when we want to make it more cream-like.”
“The cream might help with the healing, act as building blocks so to speak, but the magic is what pulls it together.”
She yanked her hand free. “There is no magic. It is a matter of promoting the right kind of microcellular repair with a careful measurement of ingredients. Which then react to provide an intense therapy.”
If he could have blinked at the bullshit answer, he would have. “If that was the case, anyone could be a druggist.”
“It takes skill.”
“You said it yourself, it’s about measurements and ingredients. Anyone could do it.” He intentionally baited her, and she took it.
“No, not just anyone can!”
“Because not everyone has your kind of magic.”
She huffed. “Magic isn’t real.”
“Really? Then explain why the Enclave can do things other people can’t.” He wondered if she’d deny it. Not everyone was aware they wielded power.
“What the Enclave can do isn’t magic.” She laughed.
“Then what is it?”
“Psionics.”
That was a new word. “What is psionics?”
“How do you not know what psionics is?”
“Because I’m not Enclave, and I’ve never lived in a dome.”
“Hmm. How to explain it?” she mused aloud.
“Try a basic definition first.”
“Psionics are those who have developed psychic abilities that allow them to manipulate certain types of energy on a non-physical level.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning they use their minds to accomplish tasks. Some are incredible thinkers, able to process logic from complex math to reciting an exact passage from a book. Some can use the power of their mind to subdue that of another. It is said they can read everything that’s in there and even plant commands.”
“Mind control is a bad thing,” he said softly.
“On that we can both agree. Thankfully it appears rather rare. The more common kind manipulates the elements. Ignite fires, control the flow of water, launch lightning bolts.”
“I know people who can do those things, but they’re not Enclave.”
“Impossible.”
“Denial in the face of evidence is stupid.”
“What evidence?” she scoffed. “It’s just you insisting.”
“I am telling you, these powers you speak of, these psionic abilities, are not as special as the Enclave would like you to think, or as rare.”
“Perhaps there are some with very minor traces.”
He snorted. “Laura can toss people around without breaking a sweat or touching them. Axel talks to the Wolgar. I can assure you, both are far from being Enclave.”
“That you know of. Could be they were never recognized.”
“Meaning?”
She sighed. ”I keep forgetting you’re a Wastelander who doesn’t understand how the domes work. When a child is born, they are sent to a Creche to see if they manifest psionic ability. If they do, then they are assigned to the Enclave. If they don’t, they’re either matched with a mentor or sent to the academy for further testing and dome assignment.”
“You said you were sent to a Master.”
“I was. Master Murray has been teaching me since my fourth year since birth.”
“That’s young.”
“We are not the only ones who begin at that age. The culinary assistants, seamstress, cobblers, and more are apprenticed young, too.”
“That is seriously messed up.” He shook his head. “What I don’t get is you said the Enclave has family. How come they get to keep their babies?” He’d only ever heard dribs and drabs of how the city worked over the years. City life might prove easier in some respects, but not everyone wanted that kind of confined existence.
“Yes and no. Usually a child presents its powers from birth and they remain with the Enclave, placed in special nurseries. If they don’t, then—”
“The child goes to a Creche for a few years of observation to see if anything manifests.” The very idea they were sorting people based on their powers was…fiendish yet brilliant. They were trying to encourage the proliferation of the Deviant gene. “You do realize they’re segregating the population based on some strange principles.”
“Never said I agreed with it. You asked how the Enclave members were chosen. I’m telling you.”
“Does it ever happen that a regular citizen manifests this psionic power?”
“No.” Said too quickly.
He prodded. “You’re lying. You have heard of it happening.” Heck, Laura, Axel’s promised, was a late bloomer at almost thirty.
“I guess I don’t need to pretend anymore.” He could hear a frown in her tone. “It does happen. Not often, but enough you hear of it. A rumor that seems unbelievable until it happens to someone you kind of know and they exhibit psionic ability just like the Enclave.”
“What happens when they’re seen to have magic?”
“Psionic ability,” she corrected.
“Whatever. What happens to them?”
“That person disappears. They don’t join the Enclave that we’re aware of. They’re just gone.”
“Did you never wonder what happened?”
“People who question also disappear.” He could almost hear the shrug in her words.
“Given what happens, anyone exhibiting power might be cautious about letting it show,” he mused aloud.
“I know what you’re implying.”
“And?” he prodded.
“And what? I don’t have a psionic ability.”
“So you say. Yet my face hardly hurts at all.”
“The cream—”
“It’s not the cream. It’s you.” He couldn’t have said why the certainty. “Put your hands on my face.”
“No.”
“Then on my arm or hand. Find an injury.”
“You have nothing fresh. Just some bruising and scabbed scratches.”
“Proving my point. I shouldn’t be that healed already.”
“I make good remedies.”
“Because you infuse them with magic!” he declared. “But I’ll bet you don’t need any fancy mixes at all. You can heal. Try it without the cream and see.” He held out his arm.
She gripped his wrist. “This is dumb.”
“Do it.”
“Heal oh injured arm,” she mocked.
“Say it like you mean it,” he growled.
“You sound just like Master Murray. It must have intent,” she said in a deep voice. “Heal.”
This time there was a burst of heat, nothing intense. She removed her hand.
“How does my arm look?”
He felt more than heard her shrug. “It’s still bruised.”
“I felt something.”
“Because you wanted to. I’m not a psionic healer.”
At her exclamation, Kitty returned, butting her head in his lap. He stroked the silky fur and veered the subject. “Given you don’t have experience with children, why do you want to be a mother?”
“Why not?” she huffed. “And speaking of children, when are you going to start giving me samples so I can try to make a baby?”
“Any time you want a sample, just sit on my lap, sweetheart.”
“Looks like that spot is taken.”
Indeed, the cat wasn’t budging from her sprawl across his thighs. “I’m sure we can find some privacy.”
“You mean you can find some privacy. I’m sure you don’t need my help collecting a sample.”
He cringed. “Can you not call it a sample?”
“Then what should I term it? The fluid of possible progeny?”
He groaned. “Stop making it sound worse.”
“Or what?”
“Or I won’t be able to give you what you want.”
Her tone was quite wicked as she said, “Don’t worry. I have a cure for erectile dysfunction.”
“There is nothing wrong with my cock.”
“But you just said it couldn’t perform.”
“Forget it. I’m fine.” Except he wasn’t fine. He was blind, horny, and with a woman now convinced he couldn’t get it up.
And then she made it worse. “Do you need a lotion to help make it bigger?”
Nine
“I don’t need help with my size.” He sounded rather choked. At least he fell quiet.
Sofia, a smile lurking around her lips, took a moment to study him. It wasn’t as if he’d know. His eyes remained bound, and despite his belief she could perform psionic healing, the ravages of his injuries still showed. The scabs were almost ready to fall off. The skin under those that had, pink. He would be free of scars in another week so long as he kept putting on the cream. As for his eyes? Those would depend on the damage to the retinas.
She’d hurt herself pretty badly a few times while learning to survive. Luckily the oasis she’d fallen into possessed mud and herbs with excellent restorative properties. Or was she a latent psionic as he suggested?
Magic his people called it, even as there was nothing magic about it at all. Scientists in the city had measured and documented and written papers about psionic abilities. They had confirmed only Enclave members inherited it.
And she’d believed it. She stared at her hands. Surely it wasn’t possible…
“Shouldn’t we be going on the hunt for more soldiers?” he said.
“Not before you give me a sample. Just in case we find some and you don’t survive.”
“Your faith in me warms my heart,” was his sarcastic drawl.
“Just being realistic. Once you’ve produced some seed, we’ll go.”
“How am I supposed to pass on my, um, donation to you?” he asked in a choked voice.
Was he ill? Perhaps she should wait. She didn’t want a defective batch.
“We’ll need a container. Will a cup be large enough, or should I gather the bucket?” She wasn’t quite sure how much seed to expect, given Braun never managed to rape her. And a good thing, too, because he would have never impregnated her. He’d been proud of the fact he’d been sterilized.
He shouldn’t have been so smug. It was the Enclave’s way of ensuring he didn’t accidentally procreate. They could be very particular when it came to the mixing of genetics.
Gunner coughed hard as he said, “No need for a bucket. A cup will be fine.”
Would it still be warm when she got it? Or cold? Should she lie upside down and just pour it in? All she had was whispered stories of how to make it work outside a lab without having to actually copulate.
“I have a cup in the house you can use.”
“Um, you’re not going to watch, are you?”
The suggestion had her sucking in a breath. It sounded shocking, mostly because she wasn’t sure what to expect. Did he require aid in expelling his seed?
“Do you need me to watch?” she asked on a high note.
“No,” he growled.
“Good. Stay here and I’ll get a cup.”
“I am not doing it outside,” he yelled, getting to his feet.
Kitty flowed under his fingers. Sofia could only stare as the man avoided a hole in the ground, lifted his foot over a rock, and weaved to avoid the corner of the house, yet she would swear he couldn’t see.
And because she wanted to be sure, she called his name, “Gunner?” Her fingers went to the hem of her shirt.
He paused. His head angled as he said, “What?”
She lost her nerve. “Nothing. The cup is in the bedroom. Left hand of the door. There is a hollow log against the wall.” It contained items she’d scavenged.
He grunted before he went into the house, leaving her to pace as she mulled over the fact he was about to give her his seed. She’d then need to insert it. The very idea made her sick and giddy at the same time. It felt wrong. She just couldn’t explain why. But the urge to have a baby overrode it. Having a child, an apprentice to teach, would rid her of the loneliness.
Then again, so would having a partner.
She glanced at the house. Was he done? Had he started? How long would it take?
Sofia moved toward the door and walked inside to find the main room empty. The bedroom door remained open. Surely that indicated invitation because he’d finished.
As she entered the bedroom, she noticed Kitty splayed on the bed while he sat with a pile of her things spread around him.
“I found your log and the stuff inside. Is this all you have?” he asked.
“Yup,” she lied. She didn’t keep the things she really valued in the open now, not since Braun. He’d taught her the reality of a woman on her own with no recourse.
Gunner appeared so different from him. Not prone to fits of violence. His language calmer and less insulting.
“You found a broken plate.” He held up the half that remained. “A dented cup. A hunk of metal.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing useful in there I can use to fight with.”
“You have a knife.”
He laughed. “Which won’t go far if we find another soldier.”
“Even if I did have a better weapon, you can’t really expect me to arm you.” Braun came with a gun. In the end, it didn’t save him, and she wasn’t as stupid anymore. She wouldn’t let anyone harm her.
“Not going to hurt you, sweetheart. I wish you believed me.”
“I’ll believe you when you keep your end of the bargain. Where’s my sample?”
He choked again. Was he getting sick? “It’s, um, too early in the day. I need some exercise if this is going to work.”
She got the impression he didn’t tell the truth, but then again, who was she to know? She sighed as she sat on the edge of the stripped bed. Kitty rolled and poked her legs in the air like she did when a kitten. On a grown feline, it was ridiculous. And cute.
“Silly Kitty.” She rubbed the fur on her belly.
“She’s another wind victim, isn’t she?”
“More than likely, given I’ve never seen another.” She rolled her shoulders.
“I always wanted a pet. Kylie, a little girl I know, has got a cat of her own, not as big as Kitty. Whereas, Axel, my boss, is part of a Wolgar pack.”
“What’s a Wolgar?” she asked.
“Big ferocious creature. A cross between the old wolves from the ancient days and felines. Some have long tails, kind of like Kitty. But their faces are mostly canine. Their coloring varies from white to black with gray and spotted in between.”
“Kind of like humanity. Everyone has their own unique appearance.”
“They also have distinct personalities according to Axel. They speak to him and even somehow understand him.”
She frowned. “Kitty doesn’t talk to me.”
“But you understand her.”
She shrugged. “Yes, but not because of any actual words. Just years of learning from each other.”
“I’m glad you weren’t alone.” For some reason, the soft admission brought a tremble to her lips and a moistening of her eyes.
He rattled among her th
ings. “So where’s your real stash of treasures?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Come on. This is junk. You can’t tell me you’ve never found anything better than this.”
“Why would I show you?” Or in this case, let him grope. “I worked hard to comb these woods to find things before they were rendered useless.”
“I am not going to steal anything. Maybe borrow, but only so I can protect us if indeed there are more people in the woods.”
“You think there are?” She’d gotten relaxed again, given the lack of danger. Kitty didn’t seem worried, and usually she took her cue from the cat.
“I don’t know. And I can’t see anything to track. Not yet, at least.” He didn’t say not ever, but it hung in the air.
How frightened he must be. Unable to see. She moved closer. He didn’t react. She stared down at him.
“A gun won’t be any use to a blind man,” she remarked.
“You’d be surprised. Or have you forgotten the way I nailed that creature last night?”
“Luck.”
He snorted. “Very possible. But I’ll need more than luck if all I have is a puny knife to defend us.”
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you. There is nothing else. The winds giveth what they find.”
“The winds should have given you a sword.”
Her lips parted at the word. “Actually, I know where there is a sword. But I couldn’t pull it free. It’s embedded too deep in stone.”
“Can you bring me to it?”
She hesitated. Should she arm him with a proper weapon? “Will you promise not to use it on me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, I won’t use it on you or Kitty.” He sounded insulted she even suggested it.
“Will you give me your seed after we fetch it?”
“Yes, dammit. Can we go?”
Sofia whistled. “Kitty, let’s take Gunner to see the sword in the rock.”
Bounding off the bed, the feline immediately placed herself by Gunner’s side, and his fingers twined into her fur.
Sofia led the way, only occasionally glancing back at Gunner being led by her cat. He was surer footed than he had a right to be. She had both her eyes working and still managed to stumble more than once.
Getting to the rock required following the shoreline, which was why she noticed the river flowing even higher than before. “The water is rising.”
