Empath

by Emme DeWitt

Suddenly, I felt three pairs of eyes on me. I quickly brushed my hand through my cascading hair, schooling my face before revealing it to the car. My mask of innocent nonchalance fooled two of the three. The chauffeurs navigated us to the curb, focused on their immediate task. I could feel Brendan observing me intently.

  “What, am I going to get the appropriate language lecture now?” I asked, turning my head enough to glare slightly out of the corners of my eyes to match his stare.

  Brendan had chosen to wear his glasses today, which made his ensemble look much more GQ than intern lackey. I could still see his emotions flickering across his hazel eyes, although I blocked my reading enough to remain in the dark about what exactly they were. I knew all the curves of his face from all the hours of staring I had done in middle school. Although Brendan had banned me from his mind, I knew him better than any obsessed fangirl.

  Did I not know him well enough to tell if he was about to betray me? My stomach gurgled.

  Our gazes locked for an uncomfortably long time. I refused to blink or turn away. In my peripheral senses, I could tell the driver had gotten out of the car to retrieve the luggage from the trunk. He had made it all the way to the curb, back to close the trunk, and waited patiently outside Brendan’s door. I continued breathing steadily, waiting.

  Brendan didn’t look away.

  “You know I’m the youngest. I can do this all day,” I said, breaking the tense silence after the first blip of agitation rolled off the front seat sentry. Both the statues had been emotionless the whole time. Only now did they have enough of any emotion for it to materialize, which meant the agitation level must be quite high if Rock Number Two had let it slip.

  But I didn’t break my gaze.

  Brendan’s eyes pinged back and forth between mine.

  “I’m worried about you,” Brendan said suddenly.

  My eyebrows popped up a half inch before I could stop them. That was not the tactic I had been expecting.

  “You always worry about me,” I said. Brendan let the next silence press in.

  By this point, the outer chauffeur was arguing with an airport attendant about moving the car. Had we been sitting there that long? In a direct conflict, the chauffeur let his feelings be known. His emotions flared out as the two argued outside the car. Behind Brendan, I could see an aurora borealis of anger, and the halo effect distracted me enough to break my intent stare as my eye deadened to assess the argument outside.

  Brendan pressed his hand lightly over mine against the leather seat. The warmth, usually a comfort, made my palm sweat instantly. I felt pinned to the seat, and I itched to move my hand.

  Guilt lanced through my gut.

  My mind raced ahead to all the possible reactions Brendan might have to me removing my hand, and all of them made me sick. No, I would deal with it. He seemed to think it was comforting me, and I would let him have that comfort himself.

  I locked back in to Brendan’s gaze, trying desperately to ignore the escalated issue on the other side of the heavily tinted window. My skin crawled in agitation.

  I didn’t want to be stuck inside the car much longer, but I knew once we exited the car, I was one step closer to certain doom. Sure, I didn’t know when exactly I’d be whisked away back to the institution, but at this point, I felt it was an inevitability.

  Would I even make it on the plane to Chicago?

  As stubborn as I was in my ways of doing things, that’s the level of determination Brendan had for following through on his convictions. If he gave his word, he would die to keep it. Or at least he would die to keep a promise he thought he had made at some point in the past. Aleks might have underestimated his uncle’s latest intern, but I knew what I was dealing with.

  Which is why I couldn’t blink. The decision had been made for me before I got into the car. I knew it, but it was only now I felt in my bones that there really was no other way. I took a deep breath in through my nose.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  Brendan’s eyes squinted imperceptibly. The question was more for myself, but I felt it only fair to fire a warning shot. I loved Brendan, but if he went against me for my supposed best interests one more time, I was ready to snap.

  I couldn’t placate him anymore.

  I couldn’t choose him over my safety. Not when it was clear he thought he was saving someone who only existed in his mind. This Evangeline could no longer be the family martyr.

  I said a silent apology to the Brendan I thought I knew. He was still in there somewhere, after all. Just too deep to speak to in such a short amount of time. We had reached an impasse, and I could no longer choose him over me. I let him have one final comfort, one final win.

  And then all hell broke loose.

  The lightshow of emotion that had haloed Brendan’s head moments before was now a full-blown situation. I had been too focused on Brendan to pay attention to the particulars, other than the most obvious one, which was that I should have intervened much sooner.

  A flurry of bright hazard work vests fluttered against the lone suit, and the front seat attendant finally abandoned his post babysitting us to go help his friend. Waving arms turned to swinging fists that blurred the reds and blacks of a tumultuous fight.

  Brendan was still staring at me, oblivious to the danger outside. I’m sure he hadn’t intended to start such an altercation, but the underlying truth was that if we did not exit the car, it was only going to get worse.

  I sighed heavily, annoyed I had to lose the staring contest to protect my protector.

  Before I could count to three, I was out my door and around the other side of the car. Three airport attendants and one security guard were up against two walls of muscle. The odds were not in their favor, but their righteousness fueled their anger.

  The front seat guard noticed me first, and he moved to block me from the inky octopus of anger and imminent assault charges. I caught his eyes behind his sunglasses and entered his mind immediately.

  He stepped to the side, allowing me to grab the handle of my waiting rolling bag.

  With each footstep toward the fray, I was able to break through into the minds of the angry men, forcing them to lower their arms and step back from one another. I dialed down the anger to mere agitation, not wanting to take away the emotion completely. I would have been even subtler if I’d had the time, but I couldn’t risk someone flaring up again and setting the others off. I let the excess emotion eek out into the chill air instead of absorbing it. Definitely did not have time for that drama.

  The other suited chauffeur was the last to fall to me, being the only other one with any semblance of mental guarding it turned out. In my mind’s eye, I had to pin him down forcefully.

  Stand down, I told him, my tone thick with authority.

  His shock snapped him out of his rage, and he stepped back enough for me to squeeze through with my bag. I found the supervisor in the group of airport attendants and addressed my audible words to him. Behind the scenes, I was dampening the others’ anger and turning up their understanding and forgiveness.

  “Thank you for your understanding,” I said to the supervisor, his mustache twitching in slight agitation. Good, I didn’t want to take it all away. “We didn’t mean to cause a disruption. I apologize for any disrespect.”

  Two of the three attendants’ auras flared gold in appreciation. Loyalty to their comrades was the only thing bringing them into this fight, and in the end, they just wanted to be recognized. We had admitted fault, and that was the deepest point of contention they held with us. Even without any extra oomph to my words, just acknowledging others’ humanity seemed to go a long way.

  It wasn’t even that difficult.

  Brendan had exited the car sometime during my exchange, his hand gripping the door tightly enough to outline his knuckles through his thin gloves. I glanced back at him. His coloring was not good.

  I turned my attention back to the group of workers.

  “We’ll get out of the way now. Again, I apolog
ize for the disruption.”

  My hand signaled Brendan to come get his luggage. I smiled brightly at all the workers, sending them another small wave of righteousness to allow them to remain amenable. In their reminiscence of this scene, I wanted them to retain a little indignation to make it seem as normal as possible. It didn’t take much. Even in my brief encounter with them, I could tell they were good people. I wanted to leave as little impact of my gift as possible.

  A sour taste filled my mouth, and I tried to swallow the rising bile without drawing any attention. I hated myself for manipulating people to this extent, but it was the only course of action that had the safest outcome. A little mental tinkering had been better than a brawl and several hospital beds, right?

  I nodded toward the chauffeurs, unsure if they were planning to escort us further or not.

  I gripped the handle of my rolling bag tightly, letting all my anxiety focus on that point as I slowly unwound myself from the minds of the men around me. Once I was free of them, I strode confidently toward the automatic doors, not checking for Brendan behind me. As long as he kept his mouth shut, the spell of positive vibes would carry us all through to the security line, at the very least.

  Even though I had detached myself from their minds, I could still feel the presences and emotions of the airport attendants and chauffeurs acutely as they dispersed. The aftereffect made me cringe even more.

  The reminder was clear: once you intervene, you are responsible for all those you touch.

  A slight pressure brushed against my coat at the small of my back, and I turned to find Brendan directing me subtly to the security checkpoint. His face was set, and I wondered if the wrinkle on his brow was from anger or concentration. Mentally, I reached out, only to pull back again as soon as I realized what I was doing.

  I tucked my hair behind my ear, letting my fingers trail through the sleek strand all the way to the end.

  “Your hair’s gotten really long,” Brendan said, his eyes purposefully avoiding mine. I felt a wave of déjà vu pour over me. Had it only been a week ago? Two? We had already had this conversation.

  “I guess,” I said. “I like it long.”

  “I think we’ll have time to get your hair cut before the wake,” Brendan said. “I’ll look up some places in Chicago for you.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, turning to Brendan for my travel documents. As our fingers brushed, I felt a strong wave of fear overtake me. I lost my balance, and Brendan steadied me instinctively. The wave of fear left as quickly as it had come, but my body was no longer responding to my directives to stand tall and confident.

  “Are you all right, miss?” the TSA agent asked, his hand stilled over the ID I had handed him at some point in the past few seconds. I didn’t remember getting to the front of the line, so I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

  “She hasn’t eaten much today,” Brendan’s voice said. “Come on, babe. We’ll get you a frappe on the way to the gate.”

  My eyes kept shifting back and forth, the image of the TSA agent’s frown of worry flickering in and out like I was battling shoddy reception. I smiled weakly at him. I needed to keep it together.

  “Sorry,” I said, my voice making it out at a whisper. “I’m fine.”

  The agent continued to frown, initialing my ticket hesitantly. I flashed another brief close-lipped smile at him. His eyes glanced behind me at the growing line, duty forcing him to dismiss me on my word.

  “Take care of yourself,” he said. “Safe travels.”

  “Thanks,” I heard Brendan respond. His firm hand rematerialized at the small of my back, propelling me forward.

  In a blink, we were past security. I tucked another piece of hair behind my ear.

  How did we get here?

  It was like someone had fast-forwarded me through the security line. The lack of memory set off alarm bells in my mind.

  I was not okay with this.

  This did not feel right.

  I was left in the middle of the bustling terminal hallway. My ticket was nowhere to be found, meaning Brendan had likely taken it back once the TSA agent had signed it. I didn’t know which flight or which gate, so I just stood in the middle of the hallway, allowing the sea of people to flow around me.

  My eyes caught Brendan as he walked out of a newsstand shop with a small bag of items. Everything I was seeing seemed slightly blurred around the edges, more so than usual. Even with people’s auras, I could still see where their physical bodies ended. At the moment, the halo effect was too strong, and the sharp lines of reality were lost in the flow of colorful energy.

  I could really use a pair of magical Elevated sunglasses right now. Dampen the lights and the auras. A dark chuckle echoed in my mind. Good one.

  Brendan was in front of me, and I felt the cold of a chilled water bottle in my hand.

  “You must have a wicked migraine right now,” he said. “I got some ibuprofen for you. Here.”

  Diligently, I held out my hand, letting the small blue orbs rest there patiently as Brendan cracked open the bottle of water for me. I took the pills, knowing they wouldn’t do much to stave off the already massive migraine crowding out my thoughts. Based on what they had given me at the Association’s facility, I would need elephant tranquilizers to get through my level of brain trauma.

  I didn’t have the luxury of sleeping for two days to recover. And there was the small matter of getting on the plane. The thoughts snapped smartly against my mind like a taut rubber band.

  This was really not good.

  Brendan led me to a seat, and I crumpled against the awkward dimensions of the faux leather modular form. Colors and lights were assaulting me from every angle. Any armor I had installed for myself at the Navratil mansion had been eaten away by the silent car ride and the curbside altercation. Between limiting my powers too strictly and overreaching, whatever balance I had been able to strike was disrupted. I was stumbling through this blindly. I couldn’t even tell what should work to bring me back into equilibrium, but I was willing to pay a heavy price to find that answer.

  Isn’t that why I had agreed to come?

  “Evangeline,” a voice whispered. I tried to backpedal from the dark interior path I was spiraling down.

  I hated feeling this weak. The days with Aleks had been an alluring dream. They had been too safe. The moment I was in any stress, I flared out like a supernova. Two hours outside that safe zone and I was practically catatonic.

  Anger surged within me. I had to handle this. I had no other choice.

  Hey, I scolded myself. You are stronger than this. You don’t know all the answers…yet. Breathe. Build back the walls. Protect yourself at all costs.

  “Evangeline?”

  Slowly, I opened the hall of mental doors in my mind, shoving emotions and visuals and sounds willy-nilly behind each door before it filled up. I worked steadily to close as many doors as I could to redistribute all the everything that was pressing against me from all sides. As I focused internally, my muscles relaxed, and I slumped deeper into the chair.

  My fingers slipped against the seat of the chair. Slowly, I traced the double diamond-shaped symbol of the Elevated that Birdie had drawn for me only a few days before. What had we talked about?

  Balance.

  Balance.

  Balance.

  My eyes flew open in clarity.

  Brendan’s face hung within inches of mine. I could see the little flecks of amber in his hazel eyes, even with the slight glare from his glasses from the over-bright florescent lights of the concourse.

  My field of vision had stabilized. Along with the normal outline of people, I could see their auras rippling as they moved through physical and emotional space, but they were clear and contained. There was distinct separation between people and energies and most importantly, myself. I leaned back, suddenly overwhelmed with exactly how close my face was to Brendan’s.

  His hand reached out and cradled my face. I froze.

  I was
just far enough away from Brendan to see his aura. Under normal circumstances, I took extra care to block him. A mental blanket was always covering his aura and dampening his emotional flares.

  But I had not had the presence of mind to do it this time.

  Brendan’s face creased in desperation as he came to the same realization as I had.

  I could see Brendan’s aura.

  And it had a white core…when it hadn’t been white before.

  “Evangeline, I can explain,” Brendan said, his hand still lightly touching my face.

  Rage erupted from me, intermingled with fear and pain. I tried to push away from Brendan, needing as much physical space as I could to fully unpack what I had only just realized. My body had been nagging at me all along. Even Aleks had said his uncle took on an Elevated intern. Brendan appeared, and I hadn’t made the connection, assuming just like Aleks that his family connection might have been enough.

  My childhood crush, my brother’s best friend, the person I had trusted more than my own family was tainted. He was part of the monstrous organization killing innocent people---children---and lining up to reap the rewards. My chest felt hollowed out. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.

  As I braced my hands on his chest to get a good push off and get as far away from him as possible, Brendan’s fingers tightened around the base of my neck, halting my forward progress.

  I felt a slight pinch at my neck.

  Everything went black.

  The jerk of wheels on uneven ground threw my mind back into consciousness. I had felt like I was falling in a dream, but found my limbs braced against the cold steel of a wheelchair armrest. The wheelchair navigator mumbled an apology, but I could tell it was in response to a reprimanding glare and not directed at me at all. I stilled my fingertips, careful not to grip the chair or draw any attention to the fact that I was awake.

  After several months in the institution, I was excellent at playing possum.

  “We just landed,” Brendan’s voice said. His tone sounded strangled to my ears. He was clearly not in control, but was feigning that everything was well in hand. Whoever was on the other end of the line hadn’t called him on his bluff. Yet.