Empath

by Emme DeWitt

  “You seem a little young to be getting involved in this mess,” Birdie said, staring off into the distance while she spun her own version of my melodrama. “Then again, it does seem to start then anyhow. Whether you’re ready or not.”

  “Sorry?” I said.

  “I was your age when I met Henry. Lovely fellow. Strong. Cute butt,” Birdie said, throwing me a knowing wink. I blushed automatically, snagging a piece of hair to twist in my idle fingers. “Oh, but he was trouble.”

  “What sort of trouble?” I asked, intensely curious. I had always been a sucker for Abuela’s stories, and Birdie’s tone felt familiar and equally suspenseful. I wondered if it took decades to master the skill, hoping I would someday have the same.

  “Love at first sight trouble,” Birdie said with a sigh. “And of course, his family didn’t approve. Even the Elevated folk tend to fall into hierarchy.”

  “Elevated folk?”

  “Yes, dear. You, me, the young ones in there,” Birdie replied with a dismissive wave. “Even that mountain of a man out on the verandah. Suppose it’s not quite a verandah. Never was one for fancy terms, I admit.”

  The old woman’s eyes clouded over as she muttered to herself about which word was most proper. I was at a loss if I should let her keep going with the argument or if I would have to pull her out of her reverie to continue the love story.

  My legs had scooted me to the edge of my chair, and I hung there, suspended, waiting for Birdie to continue. No one else seemed interested in cluing me in to what was going on. I had no mentor or handbook to guide me, and matriarchs like Birdie were fading fast. A knife cut into my stomach at the thought of all the things I had missed out on with Abuela. I spun my hair faster around my fingertips in agitation.

  “When you say Elevated,” I blurted out, finally deciding to interrupt Birdie’s monologue, “do you mean gifted? Supernatural?” The word had been thrown about occasionally in my family, but never with enough clarity for me to know what it really meant. I used it sometimes myself, but it was haphazard guesses.

  “Mmmmm,” Birdie hummed in agreement. “They used to say elevated, since the assumption was our minds were higher attuned to the different planes. Seems a bit snobby to me, but I suppose it’s done its time. Not sure what the kids call it these days.” Birdie gave me a broad grin, her eyes laughing at the futility of it all.

  “Do you mind if I ask you what your gift is?” I said, the inside of my cheek now raw from all the questions I had built up. Several of them still included Henry-with-the-cute-butt, although admittedly they were lower down on the long, long list.

  “Ah, I’m surprised you can’t tell,” Birdie replied, tapping her nose. “You’ll do better in time.”

  “Sorry?” I said again, missing her meaning yet again. I felt like she was speaking a foreign language. Or more aptly, she was speaking to me in calculus, and I had only just mastered algebra. The chasm of missing context loomed before us.

  Birdie waved away my apology, grabbing an ink pen and a folded-up newspaper. She flipped to a page covered in an advertisement, drawing four lines in a star-like pattern over a pale smiling face. It looked like the beginning of a sigil in a fantasy movie about witches.

  “Each line is a plane, yes?” she began, tapping each line in emphasis. “It holds a pair of truths on each access. The big ones, you’ll find, are life and death,” Birdie paused, labeling the central horizontal line in her jagged cursive, “and similarly future and past. The vitality and temporal planes always have the strongest of us.”

  I nodded, my eyes itching from not blinking. All my attention was focused on the diagram, searing it into my memory for future reference. I had pieced some of this together already, but I hadn’t thought of it like this before.

  “I’ve heard a little bit about these,” I said tentatively, not wanting to disrupt her train of thought. “Abuela, my grandmother, had taught them to my brother, and he told me some.”

  “Smart woman,” Birdie said, nodding her head in approval. “You were probably too young at the time, but you seem ready now. Do you know the other two planes?” She tapped the diagonal lines, and I hesitated.

  “I think,” I said, “one has to do with consciousness.”

  “Spot on,” Birdie said, labeling the remaining points. “There’s subconscious and conscious, or some say dreaming and awake. The sentient plane can get tricky, although I have a feeling you understand that a little more than me, right dear?”

  I looked up, finding Birdie’s gleaming eyes boring into my soul.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Something like that,” I said. “What’s the last one called?”

  “Ah, the relativity plane,” Birdie said with a chuckle. “Static and dynamic, or stability and motion. This is where the fun bit is, and where you’ll find my poor soul. I guess one could get in a lot of trouble on this plane, but honestly, it’s difficult to do nearly as much damage as the others. I am most thankful for that, honestly, as it has graced me with a long, full life.”

  “Does it have a name?” I asked, indicating the whole drawing. “All the parts have names.”

  “Well, that’s an interesting point,” Birdie said, leaning back in her chair. She paused to think.

  “Or are the names not really the point?” I asked.

  “The gifts are passed down to each new generation, but they don’t come in the same form every time or even in the same concentration. The energy likes to flow best in lines that some have traced back to supposed deities. I’m not sure if that’s not just part of the lore as well though, to be frank,” Birdie said, humming as she dug through her mental encyclopedia, tapping her temple lightly. “They do tend to cluster that way in families. Who I’ve known anyway.”

  “Is there some sort of record? A history of some sort?” I asked hopefully.

  “Lordy, no,” Birdie said. “All word of mouth, sorry to say. Only recently have we really run into each other intentionally. Having a written record may be more dangerous than helpful.”

  One step forward. Two steps back. My excitement fell, pulling my stomach down to the floor.

  “So no one really knows,” I said, my shoulders hunching over my lap. I focused on untangling the mess I had made of my hair in my excitement.

  “Oh, there’s a legend. Talks about the Dawn of Eight,” Birdie said, tapping the ends of each line, counting the eight points. “Can’t remember the specifics, but it talks about the generation that has all eight sides in perfect balance. They will usher in a new era for the lost lines of deities. Of course, balance could mean so many things.” Birdie’s eyes glowed again with mischief. She chuckled quietly to herself.

  “Eight?” I asked, frowning and spinning the diagram around to read right side up. “I thought there were more.”

  “Normally the energy cannot be contained in just the one person. The purists claim the bloodline is too diluted, but honestly it’s simply too much for one person to handle alone. Always was,” Birdie said, dabbing the crumbs on the cookie tray and sucking the sugar crystals stuck to her fingertips. “If you’re thinking internal and external manifestations, which I’ve experienced in my lifetime, I guess you’re really looking at sixteen, eh?”

  I gulped hard.

  Sixteen. Quentin’s obnoxious laugh rang in my ears.

  I had to bring sixteen people together to have any shot in bringing down The Association. The sheer scale of the task loomed before me, punctuated with another round of cackles from the internalized voice I had of Quentin.

  “But they could be anywhere,” I lamented out loud in argument. “Where would I even start?”

  Birdie chuckled again. Her weathered fingers tapped absently at the diagram.

  “If it’s your generation that’s the destined generation, you’ll find a way. Even if you don’t, fate has a way of bringing folk together, whether they intend to or not,” Birdie said, hopping off her chair.

  She shuffled the tray back to the counter, and I could see the
dramatic bend in her back and shoulders. She stooped heavily, her aged body losing a long battle with gravity. Even I was taller, and the realization made me feel strong and protective of her.

  I got up to clear the teapot and do the dishes on her behalf, finding Birdie’s height frozen at my already petite shoulders.

  “I’ve got this,” I said, grabbing the tray from her.

  “I know, dear,” Birdie said, patting my hand. “I know.”

  “Time to go,” Niko said, the back door gusting open violently with his entrance. He caught the door before the glass panes broke against the wall, but the teapot wasn’t as lucky. I had been drying it with a hand towel embroidered with daisies, and the shock of the door had been too much for the slippery surface. The tactile stitches clung guiltily to my empty fingertips.

  “I’m so sorry!” I said, crouching down immediately to gather the shards into the damp towel. I hissed at a close call with a particularly pointy piece.

  “It’s just a teapot, dear,” Birdie said, shuffling away to grab a dustpan. She returned, holding it out toward Niko. “Be careful to get all the little pieces. Don’t want any cut feet.”

  Niko secured the door and took the pan and broom lightly, making quick work around me.

  “We need to go. Now,” he said, setting the broom aside.

  “Let me just clean up after…”

  “Already done,” Niko said, his wrist flicking toward the broom in the corner. I looked around me, scanning the floor for any stray pieces. Except for the two right in front of me, I couldn’t find any indication the teapot had broken the minute before.

  “His efficiency worries me sometimes,” Birdie directed toward me, her words a little muddied, but the volume too loud to be a proper aside.

  I held back a snort, not wanting to hurt Niko’s feelings. Birdie and I had the same sentiment.

  Niko cleared his throat. I ducked my neck in response, scurrying to toss the larger pieces in the trash before I left.

  Birdie shuffled forward, grabbing my hands in hers.

  “I need you to promise me one thing,” Birdie said, the sparkle in her cloudy eyes turning sharp, all smiles gone from her usually bright face. Niko exhaled impatiently through his nose.

  “Of course,” I said immediately, hoping belatedly it was something I could actually follow through on. Although our time together was brief, I felt a special bond with Birdie. I hoped that one day I could be as old and happy as she had been, but her earlier comment about the less powerful making it longer left a bitter taste in my mouth.

  “Take care of yourself,” she said, her hands squeezing mine tightly. “You Empaths have the worst trouble with it, but you won’t last long if you don’t. You know by now to trust your gut, but it won’t do you or anyone else much good if you’re not around to follow it.” Birdie locked gazes with me, her eyes sincerely concerned.

  “I’ll try,” I replied honestly, my throat closing as tears welled up. For once, I towered over an adult, but I felt so small and so young. I didn’t know if I could keep my promise, but her words echoed in me like the warnings Abuela used to caution me with as a child.

  It was that simple, and it was that hard.

  “Oh, and do find your other half. Sooner rather than later,” Birdie said, making me blush. “Most people caution against falling in love young, but for us, it’s our only saving grace. Bit of fun, too.”

  I nodded, my cheeks still flaming from her advice. Niko cleared his throat again, and a wave of impatience shot out into the room. My eyes widened.

  “No need to be rude,” I scolded Niko, still caught in Birdie’s hands.

  He tried his best to remain impassive, but his curiosity began to needle its way into my brain, poking out cautiously like a cat batting a new toy.

  “He’s just following orders,” Birdie said, patting my hands again and releasing them with a final squeeze. “I hear his boss can be quite the dictator.”

  “All the more reason to keep him humble,” I murmured so Birdie could hear. A bright laugh escaped her, and the music of it echoed through the house.

  I hugged her suddenly, and she hooted in surprise. I made sure not to squeeze her bent frame too hard, but she returned a firm press, and I was able to surrender fully to the hug. I basked in the love for a few long moments, wanting to recharge for my next meeting with Aleks, which, due to my delay, would begin with an argument. It was all worth it. Something about grandmothers gave them the ultimate hugging skill, and I was sorely in need of a great grandma hug.

  Before Niko could interrupt and spoil the moment, I pulled away. I stepped toward Niko like an obedient child, waiting for him to zip us back to wherever we had been.

  “It was a pleasure meeting you, Birdie,” I said, my happiness leaking through every pore in my body. “I hope to see you again soon.”

  “Take care, dear,” Birdie replied, a tinge of sadness radiating from her.

  Before I could make anything of it, Niko’s hand was on my shoulder, and we were gone.

  “Where have you been?” Aleks’ voice thundered toward me before I could even open my eyes. Even if I hadn’t been an Empath, the vibrations in his tone would have slapped me hard enough to get the picture.

  “Whoa,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose to steady the room. Niko had literally just flickered us back into existence, and I hadn’t closed my eyes before the jump as I should have. My stomach was rioting against my ribcage, threatening to make an appearance. “Can you give me a second?”

  Even with my eyes closed, I could feel Aleks’ anger redirected toward Niko, who gave the most audible shrug I had ever not heard. More amusing for me, Aleks wasn’t even angry. Not really. Niko must have been able to sense that, too, since he didn’t seem cowed by the volume or animosity.

  For once, I could read Aleks through his inky barrier. It wasn’t anger I was sensing; it was fear.

  “So,” I said, dropping my hand from my face and hoping for the best, “how’s your uncle?”

  “Don’t,” Aleks said, his hand blocking any future words.

  I bit the inside of my cheek to reign in a cheeky smile. I looked toward Niko, who shrugged again. His underlying zen calm was back, so I decided if Niko wasn’t worried, I shouldn’t be either. Birdie had been right to call him a mountain. He made me a little nervous with his imposing frame, but since I could temporarily put him in the ally category, I was able to be less diligent.

  “If you don’t need me, can I go take a nap?” I asked, feeling the itching sensation of a migraine coming on. Today’s overload was finally catching up with me, and I realized belatedly that any medication I had been under was working itself out of my system. I didn’t want to deal with withdrawal right now, but that’s how it was looking.

  At least I had remained awake so far all day today. That was new.

  “A nap?” Aleks shouted, causing me to take a small step back.

  “Or sleep in general,” I said, frowning at his volume. “I honestly don’t know what time it is.”

  “Just,” Aleks said, his hands framing his eyes as his head rested against them. He sat slouched in an overstuffed circular booth, the weight of his conscience seemingly held up only by his elbows resting on the table. He sighed heavily.

  I heard a buzz of commotion and turned to figure out what was happening. The lights flickered and came to life, and staff moved into their assigned places. The buzz amplified as a bouncer slipped through the door.

  Was I at a club?

  I whipped around again to face Niko, both of my eyebrows raised in question.

  “Remember when I was in a hurry?” Niko said, his deep voice almost nostalgic. His head inclined toward the door.

  “What am I going to do with you?” Aleks said, definitely intending to be rhetorical.

  “I’m underage. I should probably go,” I replied simply. “I hear they’re pretty serious about catching minors these days.”

  Aleks sighed again.

  “Niko, get one of the g
irls to help her out and then bring her right back,” Aleks said, raking his hands down his face in one last moment of vulnerability. Slowly, as he spoke, the hard crusted facade was built back in place. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

  Niko nodded, gripping me lightly by my upper arm and propelling me toward a side door.

  “Help out how?” I asked to the stony-faced teleporter.

  “Look less,” Niko replied, appraising me from head to toe, “underage.”

  “I am not consenting to a hooker makeover right now,” I argued, bucking slightly against Niko’s grip, which only tightened more painfully. “I refuse.”

  “You have to blend in. It’s safer,” Niko said with a shrug, completely ambivalent to my plight.

  “Or I could just go to sleep,” I said, trying to catch Niko’s gaze. “I’m very cooperative when I’m asleep. I don’t even try and go anywhere! It’s a win-win!”

  “Here,” Niko said, shoving me through a doorway that read DRESSING ROOM in silver painted script. “Don’t be difficult.” Niko slammed the door shut in my face, standing sentry outside. I turned around, my back plastered again the wall as I took in my surroundings.

  A bustle of women were moving at warp speed. Most were half clad or in the process of dressing. Those not fighting with clothing or shoes were focused intently on mirrors, applying all varieties of make-up. I squinted at the outfits, trying to decide on which level this strip club was, but I couldn’t tell. My limited media experience left me somewhere between burlesque and Playboy bunnies. Most of it looked too difficult to rip off, but there was a lot of corsets and fishnet stockings.

  “Ah,” a soft voice said in my ear. I startled, not realizing a girl had come up to me so quietly. “You must be Evangeline.”

  I squinted at her, curious as to how she knew my name. Clearly, Aleks had known more about my family than he had let on. I had never given him my first name.

  “Hi,” I said curtly.

  “I’m Gaby. Here, let’s get you changed. Cute jacket!” the girl said, taking my hand and leading me into the heart of the storm. I looked down in confusion, trying to remember what I was wearing. It was a simple black winter jacket I had thrown over my crusty hoodie, which did not help me decide if she was being sincere or merely polite.