Empath

by Emme DeWitt

  The whirring of wheels against carpet bounced softly in the backs of my ears. Another jerk, and the soft purr of the wheels turned sticky as the rubber battled against the heavily waxed laminate of the main concourse hall. The overall din of the crowded concourse faded into the background as I focused more intently on Brendan’s phone conversation.

  A flare of white assaulted my mind’s eye as I remembered what I had found out right before going under.

  Somehow, Brendan had developed an Elevation.

  I bit the inside of my cheek hard. Focus. I had to remain under control. The rage tickling the corners of my mind was tamped down. Now was not the time to fly off the handle. But, boy, was I ready to tap into that deep well at any moment.

  Thinking back, I had no idea when Brendan had changed. I’d been so focused on not seeing him that I had no gauge to figure out when exactly he had been gifted with abilities. Certainly not when Tomas was alive. Not that that narrowed the window by very much.

  Tomas had only been gone two years.

  “Of course,” Brendan said into the phone.

  I quietly seethed about what I was going to do next. I needed to confront Brendan. Not only that, but I needed to do it before anyone else joined the next leg of our travel party. I was certain the person on the other end of the phone had arranged an escort similar to what we’d had in Minneapolis. Or worse—this time they could be Elevated.

  Like Brendan.

  I just wanted to scream. Of all the people to keep something from me. Of all the lies to keep hidden. I didn’t know if I could ever forgive Brendan. The betrayal ran too deep.

  I argued with myself. What I wanted to do was eavesdrop mentally on the phone conversation. What better way to hear the other side than to invade the mind of the person hearing it? But the method grated at my sense of loyalty and ethics. Just because Brendan had hurt me didn’t give me the right to invade his privacy. My word was still worth something. The righteousness felt hollow though.

  “That wasn’t the arrangement,” Brendan said crisply over the line.

  That’s it, I thought to myself. Personal safety clause enacted. I had to know what was going on.

  Brendan’s agitation left cracks in his mental barriers. I had never tried to get around them before, but I felt like I had actually done Brendan a great disservice. His barriers sucked. He was so easy to crack, anyone else with half a spoonful of charisma could have swayed him. If I were a kinder, more understanding friend, I would help him seal up the cracks.

  But at that moment I was not very understanding.

  I wove into the background of Brendan’s consciousness. No thoughts hiccupped. No gut feelings set him on alert. I was just a fly on the wall of his mind. A very, very curious fly.

  “Wait for assistance at the house,” the voice said over the line. “Another escalation is being resolved, so you’re on standby until further notice.”

  “How long?” Brendan asked, his throat closing against the high levels of anxiety his body was battling. I could hear his mind telling his body to calm down, but the directive was too weak, and his body had other ideas.

  “Could be hours. Could be a few days,” the voice said. “Is there a problem?”

  “She’s a lot stronger than she was two weeks ago,” Brendan said. His eyes glanced at my limp frame in the wheelchair. A lance of profound sadness stabbed Brendan at his core. His mind spent a few too many seconds lingering on the pain of it. “I’m not sure keeping her sedated will work for long.”

  “I thought you said you could handle her?”

  “I can,” Brendan said, clearing his throat. “I’m just saying I’ll need to know if it’ll be longer than a day or two.”

  “You’ll be kept up to date,” the voice said. It paused. “Did something happen?”

  “Nothing newsworthy.” Brendan hesitated. “There was an altercation in Minneapolis, but she diffused it before anyone took notice. She had a break shortly after. Energy drain, I figure.”

  “Keep her calm and slightly sleepy,” the voice directed. “I’ll let the director know we need to bump up the priority level. If she’s smart enough to intervene and leave no trace of her influence, the director’s going to want to hear a full report on it.”

  “Already typed up and submitted,” Brendan said, a sigh escaping him. “I’ll text in updates in real time.”

  “Noted,” the voice said. “And Brendan.”

  “What?”

  “Keep your barriers up at all times. I don’t have to tell you what a dangerous combination that girl is. Double Elevated is no joke, especially on the Sentient plane.”

  “She won’t hurt me,” Brendan said. Doubt pinged back to me internally, and I could tell Brendan was still worrying about what had been revealed earlier. “You know she doesn’t read me.”

  “Until she does,” the voice said, its tone argumentative. “Stop looking deeply into her doe eyes before she kills you.”

  “Is that all?” Brendan said, a wave of anger and defensiveness building in his mind. “We’ve got to meet the driver.”

  “Check in is every two hours. Don’t be late.” The line disconnected, and I could feel relief flood Brendan’s mind.

  Being on the inside was much more intense than I had predicted. My inner monologue had been silenced, although I had plenty to say about this exchange. I slowly extracted myself from the tangle of emotions knotting themselves in Brendan’s mind. I had to get out before he realized I had let myself in.

  My guilt was waiting for me in the peace of my own mind. Brendan had so much faith that I would stand by my word and never overanalyze him. Even though he felt worried I might not react well to his being Elevated, the undercurrent was firm. As much as he was warned about me, he thought he knew me better.

  I was torn.

  Part of me really chafed at his certainty of knowing me. Sure, we had grown up together, and to some extent, he did know parts of me more than others. But did he know me well enough to anticipate my mindset? My moods? Clearly not if he thought I would never break my word no matter what. I was still human. The Evangeline in his mind was a little too pure, a little too angelic. I couldn’t resolve his picture of me against my true self. The comparison made me extremely uncomfortable.

  Then again, I could feel how devoted he was to me. I knew he looked out for me, but I had assumed it was some misplaced sense of duty. As if he felt he had to take Tomas’s place. But the level of despair that had assaulted Brendan from seeing my limp frame…

  My stomach dropped.

  After pining for Brendan since the age of seven, I could not believe my intuition. Around the time of Tomas’s mysterious death, I had put aside my love for Brendan and tried desperately to move on. Nothing was worse for an Empath than enduring a loved one’s funeral. I could tell everyone saw me through the lens of the little sister left behind. At the time, I couldn’t imagine Brendan ever coming to love me just for myself. Even the dubious future possibility had been clouded by his best friend’s death.

  Two years later, here we were.

  Somehow being on this side of the unrequited love made me even more uncomfortable. I wondered if I could scrub my own memories. I’d heard horror stories of Commanders making people forget huge chunks of time. Were the stories myths? Or was there some element of truth to it?

  Clearly Eli was not the only one who could have benefited from more Birdie story time.

  “Did you need assistance to your car?” the wheelchair attendant asked.

  Both Brendan and I were snapped from our respective internal reverie.

  “No, thank you,” Brendan said. “I’ll be able to get her into the car myself. Thank you for your help.”

  I heard the crinkle of cash exchanging hands and then felt a warm presence behind me. Fingers slid through my hair, and I tried not to tense up my shoulders. Now did not feel like a good time to pop awake. I had to bear everything until the right time.

  Slowly, Brendan gathered my hair together, twisting it
into a loose bun before tucking it into an oversized beanie. He carefully adjusted the band of the hat around my face, hiding my ears from view. Next, he wrapped a long knitted scarf loosely around my neck, discretely hiding the bottom half of my face. My skin tingled as he prepared me for the biting winter air. I felt like a doll being used for dress up. Even though I knew he was doing it for my benefit, the agitation remained.

  Finally, Brendan pushed the wheelchair through the automatic doors to the curb.

  “Bags are right inside,” he directed to the driver.

  Then I was in his arms. His gloved hand secured my face against the lapel of his jacket, making sure it leaned there instead of rolling out and straining my neck. Or would have, if I hadn’t had the wherewithal to brace it imperceptibly.

  The smell of Brendan’s aftershave overwhelmed me. This time, instead of comforting me as it had in the past, especially on his occasional visits to the institution, all I could think about was Aleks. About how I wished he were here instead of Brendan.

  Immediately, I felt guilty. Brendan placed me gently in the back of another unmarked luxury sedan. He adjusted my legs discretely, making sure my posture was as natural and comfortable as possible. A wave of love rolled off him, and I lost it.

  A tear rolled down my cheek just as a gust of wind rocked the underground covered lanes.

  Brendan wiped it away, sighing into the wind. He shut the door softly, walking to the other side to get in.

  I didn’t know where we were heading next, but I didn’t care. I needed some time to process Brendan’s feelings—and my own. The drive would never be long enough.

  I must have fallen asleep on the ride. The warmth of the overheated car and the slow stop and start of rush hour traffic had caught me off guard, and I surrendered to my possum play a little too easily. My body stiffened as soon as I felt a light touch. I peeked through the millimeter slits between my eyelids. I had to regain my bearings. Fast.

  Brendan cradled me in his arms again, closing the short distance between curb and aging three-flat in several confident strides. I could see the surrounding brick buildings standing sentry with their cracking concrete stoops. What little grass that could be seen through the chunks of leftover snow and ice was mottled with dead leaves and bare patches. Having only been to Chicago in the summers, the street felt subdued in contrast to the loud vibrant memories of block parties and family reunions.

  A murmur of voices leaked through the solid wooden front door. A gust of warm spiced air wrapped me in a wave of memory and homesickness before Brendan could even step across the threshold.

  “Leave her in the downstairs bedroom. We’ll keep an eye on her until she wakes up,” a smooth voice said. The low male timbre tickled my memory, but I was still fighting the pull of sleep. The name sat stubbornly on the tip of my tongue. Blurs of color flickered through my eyelids as my barriers sagged along with my energy. The most prominent color told me my host was also of the Elevated variety, and my stomach rolled in apprehension. I really hoped this person was on my side after all.

  Abuela’s face popped into my head. Even seeing her in memory form calmed my anxiety.

  A tear slipped from the corner of my eye. This might have been Abuela’s house before, but it didn’t hold much of her warmth. For once, I wished I could feel inanimate objects like Ms. Xavier. A soul’s mark on an object seemed more stable than the fleeting energies of consciousness. I laughed at myself and my Elevated envy. Of course I would want almost the complete opposite of my power.

  “It’s colder than I remembered,” Brendan said, his tone colored with mild embarrassment. I felt his gloved hand wipe at the tear stains on my cheeks. “This wind, huh?”

  The other man chuckled.

  “The space heaters may seem old and noisy, but they work wonders. Once you settle Evangeline in, come into the kitchen. We’ll get some coffee for you while we wait for her to wake up.”

  My eyes were able to track him from his aura color blur, which went all the way down to his white core, the grey disrupting the normal ebb and flows like a layer of dirty snow.

  Grief.

  The answer smacked me upside the head.

  Some of the kids at school had had a similar grey cloud. The thicker the cloud, the more I was convinced they had been suffering from depression. The whole campus had caught the grey sludge after the tragic accident that had almost killed Colm. It had seemed insensitive to pry too deeply at the time, although I realized I’d missed a great opportunity. If no one was going to teach me, I had to do better about learning on the fly.

  Like today.

  Brendan’s fingers lingered on my hair after he settled me on the bed. I could feel him taking off my boots and repositioning my legs back onto the bed. A thick blanket that smelled of Abuela was laid over me, and I began to feel overwhelmed. The weight of the cable knit afghan against my several layers of sweater made it hard for me to breathe. Between the persistent ebb of the sedative pulling at my consciousness, the smell of home, and the too many layers of restrictive comfort, my mind was pushing a mental break.

  “Brendan!” a voice called brightly from across the apartment. Brendan’s hands stilled before pulling away. I heard the soft click of the door shut behind him, and I let out a ragged sob.

  The soft tears that had begun at the first smell of the old house were now a steady stream of anxiety and frustration. My mind was spinning further and further askew, and I didn’t know how I was going to right myself. My throat was constricting painfully. I couldn’t swallow the tears that were escaping from every possible pore, and as I started having trouble breathing, I panicked more.

  The soft swish of the wooden door against the carpet alerted me to someone entering the room. I tried to pull myself back inside, back into my shell, hidden.

  Another painful sob escaped, and my heart sank at the noise. No use in hiding now. I was clearly some form of awake.

  I awaited the pinch of another needle. Brendan had been instructed to keep me sedated, and I knew I was in no state to fight him off. I moaned, torn at the agony of being awake enough to feel everything, but not awake enough to put it away in the farthest corners of my mind.

  The air next to the bed filled with a presence, but the tears blurred my already limited sight. The colors bent together, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be reading. I desperately hoped they were a friendly instead of a potential adversary.

  “Evangeline,” the low voice said. A warm hand rested on top of mine, and I instantly felt lighter. The emotional tension in the room popped, like my ears on the airplane. The fog from my partial sedation broke enough for my mind to zip through the past few hours, collecting all the important information and linking it together neatly in an outline for me.

  “Tio,” I choked out, my throat still swollen with tears.

  With my free hand, I wrestled my upper body free from the constrictive blanket. My fingers made quick work of brushing away the trail of tears that had left a spider web on my cheeks. I glanced over and found the white of Tio’s aura flaring against the damp grey of grief.

  “Welcome home,” Tio Manuel said. The crow’s feet at his eyes danced as his cheeks rose in a toothless smile. If eyes could hug, I would be wrapped up in the strongest embrace right now.

  I let out a huge sigh. The weight from only a moment earlier was almost completely gone. If anything, I felt a little too light. My mind whirred in a million directions. Fight or flight had kicked in, and I wasn’t sure which one I was leaning toward.

  “What’s happening?” I asked aloud. The warmth surged around my left hand where Tio’s hand still covered mine. My eyes bounced back and forth between my hand, completely encased in a bright white aura, and Tio’s chest, where I could read the source of his emotional health.

  “Almost done. Just hold still,” Tio Manuel said softly. The grey around him thickened a bit, and I could see his overall health take a slight hit. It was like he had gone from completely healthy to fluish in a matter of
minutes. Again, the juxtaposition caught me off guard. When I had seen Abuela from my sensory tank exercise, she had a similar chronic static around her energy. Anyone battling long-term health issues had weird energy breaks, but other than Abuela, this was the first time I had experienced it in person, or at least in real time.

  “Tio,” I pressed.

  He squeezed my hand, and I saw the white flare up before being absorbed back into our respective Elevated auras. Flares of color licked at the outer edges of each of our forms again. I looked up, and Tio’s smile was even fainter than before. He looked like he needed a nap.

  “Please tell me what’s going on in this family. I really can’t handle any more surprises.”

  “Yes, it is past time you heard everything,” Tio Manuel said, a sigh escaping him, his hand idly patting mine. “But right now, it’s not important.”

  “Not important?” I shrieked, a zip of anger flaring out around me and causing Tio to flinch. I slapped my hand over my mouth, aware I was still supposed to be asleep. My eyes darted toward the door, feeling past it to the other energies in the house. Brendan was with someone in the kitchen, likely Tia or one of my many cousins. They were talking loudly enough they had not heard my outburst. I bit hard on my lower lip.

  How could I be so sloppy?

  Tio raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. I let out a deep breath. My mind was scrambled again, and I took several cleansing breaths.

  “Okay,” I said, dropping my voice. “Then can you tell me what is important right now?”

  “Getting you out of here before anyone notices you even came,” Tio said, his small smile twisting slightly in sadness. “Ah, but you’re so grown. I wish I didn’t have to send you away so soon.”

  “Why can’t I stay? What about Abuela’s wake?”

  Tio shook his head.

  “The services have been done for a week. The only people about to gather at this house is the team of bodyguards here to escort you back to an Association controlled facility. Only me and your tia even knew you weren’t at school. My sister made it clear that our intervention wasn’t necessary,” Tio said. At the slight mention of my mother, I felt my stomach convulse. I couldn’t breathe.