by Lin Lustig
“I'll text you the details.”
John begrudgingly thanked him and hung up. The last thing he needed was to force Licia back into his life, especially with Emerson already prickly. But Em lived to protect people, and they both wanted to keep Abnormals safe. Em’s background in military and private security meant he knew how to keep people safe. When John started an anonymous site for Abnormals, Emerson took the lead to cover his ass. Em always stayed calm, and he always knew that John was a little hopeless. He needed Emerson more than Emerson needed him.
“Priorities, John. Get your shit together,” he told himself. He was no leader or protector, but shame was a great motivator. He’d needed Licia’s power last time, and Glen was right, they'd need her again this time, too.
He’d float the idea to Emerson tomorrow, maybe even plant the idea over the next week, because as much as he balked at calling Licia, telling Em was going to be more awkward than the commercial John had done for hemorrhoid cream. He bounced to his feet to leave the room—or tried to.
The room around him seemed to flatten from three dimensions into two. Pressure built behind his eyes, and then his body stopped responding to commands. His hand was perched on the doorknob, ready to turn, but the room bleached into white as pressure filled his sinuses like a sudden flu. He couldn't move. Then, like a dream, images overwhelmed his waking mind.
There was something familiar about the way the rain soaked through his thread-bare t-shirt and holey jeans, as well as the pack on his back—which was too light but still stuffed with everything he owned. He'd done this before. This was him, years and years ago, but he felt like a passenger in the memory. He wasn't even John Beechum yet, he was still the desperate, unwanted Jayden. His sense of self melted as the memory consumed him.
It never rains in L.A. Well, not never, but why today? The universe was punishing him.
His shirt soaked through as he cut across the manicured park and ducked under the palm trees to dodge the rain. He spotted another homeless man dart through with a sodden newspaper over his head. He hunkered down under a nearby tree and Jayden couldn’t help but see himself in the man’s shaggy face and worn clothes. If this plan worked, he wouldn’t need to scrounge anymore. He called to the man and tossed him his bag. It was only a couple sets of clothes and a few snack bars, but it was everything in the world he owned and still better than nothing. Which was exactly what he had now—but not for long. The man called his thanks and Jayden set off across the park and to the next street over.
The gate to Aubrey’s driveway had a video feed, so all he had to do was stand there like the stray dog he was, and she'd let him in. Eventually. Hopefully.
They hadn't left on good terms last time he'd slept over. The offer she'd made seemed ridiculous at the time.
Then he went back to the streets. Back to missing meals and wearing the same clothes for days at a time until even his vibe wasn't strong enough to cover the musk of his desperation. Not only that, but he was beginning to suspect the last chick he'd slept with in exchange for a bed had given him the clap, and he didn't have money for antibiotics. If the universe hadn't completely forsaken him it would just be jock itch. He'd used a condom after all, and he always would. It's not like he could pay for child support if he knocked anyone up.
The gilded gates lurched with a buzz, then slowly swung open. He let out a wavering breath and relieved tears mixed with the rain on his face. Two years of living on streets and in different women's beds needed to end.
At the front door he waited. No need to knock. She knew he was there.
Aubrey swung the carved door open and leaned against the frame.
“Well?” She looked slick in a pair of high-waisted white pants and tucked-in floral blouse, untainted by rain or dirt like him. Perfect L.A. royalty, complete with inherited fortunes and an air of high expectations. She crossed her arms and raised a naturally red eyebrow.
“I'll do it.”
She grinned and stepped aside. “I'll call my lawyer.”
The memory's clarity leaked away until John's vision returned to the bedroom of his New York condo. The flashback left him dizzy. He hadn't thought about that part of his past in years, but the threat of Licia returning to his life was stirring up all kinds of emotions, and none of them were pleasant. The sensations faded completely until he wasn't sure anything had really happened. He was just stressed. Needed more sleep. Who didn't?
Emerson was where he left him at the living room desk, probably contemplating how they’d ever be able to go public. He really should let him go, that's what you did when you loved someone, right? It would be better for Emerson, and it's not like he would want to be with him if he knew how John had betrayed their kind to Aubrey. No one would. He'd fucked up, and in the process fucked them all. But Emerson had been so good for John, and selfishly he wasn't ready to go back to being alone like that miserable kid he remembered.
But something about that memory made him think waiting a week to ease Emerson into the idea of contacting Licia wasn’t the right choice.
“We have a problem.” He could see the shift in Emerson's posture as he slid his headphones off. His military training kicked the emotion in his expression to the side and he stood like a tan, thick, and sturdy statue that was damn good to look at.
“What's wrong?”
“That was Glen. UHP has a new patient and they're using them to create more effective Jammers. I think it's time to call in Licia.” As soon as he said her name, Emerson slumped back down. John kept a cap on his vibe, which tried to bubble free as his nerves flared.
“Why is this a Licia-level threat?”
It was a fair question, and not one he could fully answer. He didn’t want to lie, and he was already hiding enough from Emerson, so he went with the obvious. “Because they found someone to experiment on who's off the charts.” John waited, holding his breath. Emerson’s face gave little away. Maybe he was calculating the situation. Maybe he was watching John for any slip ups. Finally, Emerson's dark eyebrows drew down and together, but he didn't dispute the need for Licia's intervention. When it came to potentially volatile situations, she was the key, though Emerson didn’t always understand why.
“We need to talk about tonight,” Em said instead. His tone didn't suggest a fight, but it still felt like a needle pricked John's heart.
“I know.” John shook his head helplessly, but his mind was stuck on UHP. Emerson knew Licia was one of them, powerful and unpredictable, but not the full extent of her ability. “But maybe not right now. Glen wants me to go to Boston and find her.”
Emerson's mood shifted, and he stood straighter. His voice was calm and controlled. “Have you tried calling her? Messaging her?”
A defensive flush crept up John’s neck. It wasn’t Em’s fault. He was being thorough, but Licia didn’t do well over the phone.
“No. It's better if I talk to her in person.”
Emerson quirked an eyebrow. John ignored the silent why hanging in the air. The less Emerson knew about Licia's less-than-legal enterprises the better. John paced around the kitchen island, striking the floor heavily: hard, hard, soft over the throw rug, hard, hard.
“Have you seen anything on the Anons site?” John continued pacing. That was what they called the anonymous site he’d started for fellow Abnormals.
Emerson offered his arm. He didn't miss how Em's palm stayed down with his fingers curled in. An offer, but not an opening. John took it regardless and gripped Emerson's wrist, draining away the jittery anxiety pushing against his vibe. Emerson rolled his neck and let out an easy breath. At least one of them benefited from the situation.
“No,” Emerson said. “Just the usual chatter. I still monitor all the posts before they go live. You think someone on the Anons can contact her?”
John removed his hand. The support website wasn't Licia's style. “Not exactly, but she knows the site exists. If any weird messages come in, tell me.” He stared at his phone and ran a hand through his hair. Gl
en sent him an address and a phone number but calling Licia wouldn't be enough.
An empath who killed wasn't swayed by words. But she might be by the coil of fear in his chest. It was dangerous to let her and UHP mix. Licia could quell mobs, or just as easily incite them. If the company harnessed her empathetic control, they could Stepford governments and bliss out the masses.
Emerson let out a sigh and sat back down. “If you're set on going to Boston, then I'll book the flights.”
“It will be better if I go alone.” John skirted the glass coffee table and sank into his favorite chair, a relic of polyester and nylon printed with gaudy geometric designs. Part of him doubted Licia would even deign talk to him over the phone. With only a few exceptions, she kept John at a distance that would shame space probes, yet they’d worked well together. They could make it work this time, too.
“I wasn't planning to join you.” Emerson turned towards his computer.
“What?” It took John’s brain an extra moment to process what Em said. Then he saw him open an airline tab and type in LAX. John’s heart nearly dropped through his stomach. He’d been too focused on Licia, had he said something? Shit. “Why would you go back?”
“I need a break.” Emerson didn't look up from the computer. It took all of John’s control not to reach out and swing him around. New York was supposed to be their test run before they went back. A year of Broadway and glamour then they’d see what opportunities came up. Yes, they had to keep things secret, but they’d always agreed to stick together. This was too sudden. John’s heart felt gutted and his vibe gurgled uncomfortably.
“A break I can handle, but Em...” John trailed off, not sure how to convince him. Did Em want to break up? John drew his hand back over his hair and felt tension building in his neck. He feared this would happen eventually, but he thought it would be future John's problem, not tonight John’s problem. He’d had never had a long-term relationship like this—because Aubrey clearly didn’t count. Maybe this was a normal part of relationship growing pains. They were navigating a lot together. This didn’t have to be the end yet, right? For Shift’s sake, how was he supposed to know the right thing to say or do right now? As far as he knew there weren’t any other Abnormal actors hiding their sexuality while dating another Abnormal and keeping it all out of the press. Before he could decide how to express all of that, Emerson broke the silence.
“Markus has a job for me, shouldn't take more than a couple of weeks.”
John's cheeks warmed as something bitter wormed through him. He would have joined Emerson back to L.A. the moment his contract on the Broadway show was over if that’s what he wanted but, “Markus?”
“He's shooting on location in San Diego and wants the best protection money can buy.” Emerson smiled at that.
“Markus your ex, Markus?” John crossed his arms.
Emerson spun in his chair and glared. “Licia your ex, Licia?”
“She's not an ex.” John caught his defensive tone and smothered it under walls built through years of acting.
Emerson turned towards the laptop again. “Hard to believe you haven’t slept with the one woman you've clearly got a thing for.”
Okay, maybe when they'd first orbited each other John had had a crush on Licia. She was enticing in that bad girl way, and he'd always have a soft spot for her, but she'd never been interested in him like that. Any lingering affection didn't matter. “That was a long time ago.”
Emerson abandoned the laptop and faced him, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Then why do you need her for this?”
“Because she's handled this kind of situation before,” John muttered, but he had a growing feeling if he went to find Licia, Emerson wouldn't wait. He knelt down in front of the desk chair and took Em’s hands. “Okay, I’ll call her and that’s that. If I stay, will you?” Maybe Glen was overreacting, and they didn’t really need Licia.
Emerson's lips twitched, but his eyes stayed unsure. “What's in it for me?”
Something that Emerson would want? John’s brain shifted into gear and reminded him there was one clear thing Emerson always wanted.
“We'll have a meeting with my team. About you and me.” He knew exactly how that meeting would go with his manager, but he’d try again. His playboy image was how he’d often gotten his roles, and his team was well versed in tastefully revealing rendezvous and capitalizing on his desirability. He wasn’t ready to let Emerson leave just because he didn’t fit into his brand’s narrative. Even after almost a year together he still loved him, still wanted him above all others. He just had to get Em to see that, then the public stuff wouldn't matter. Unfortunately, the stuff with his past was another matter, but one thing at a time.
“I... yeah. Okay, I’ll stay.”
John kissed him.
CHAPTER 3
Emerson
Damn him for being soft... and John for knowing his threat was empty. Oh, he might have gone to L.A., but only long enough for John to realize he wanted Emerson enough to come out. A little spark of jealousy, a little loneliness, and maybe John would finally admit to their relationship beyond his team. Nearly a year of secrets was too much.
Part of him was relieved not to go, though. He had other clients he worked for part time that would need to be ferried over to his backup, Henry. Henry was a good guy and built like a 1950’s pickup, but he lacked a gut instinct that Emerson had honed. Except, when it came to John, Emerson’s gut was all over the place.
He'd given John time. He'd been patient, but he wanted more... he just didn't know how to ask for it in a way that would achieve anything. He'd talked to Prisha about it, but she didn't have any advice either. Then again, he suspected she was happy to have John to scratch certain itches without the kind of complications Emerson dealt with by being the boyfriend. He didn't mind John being with Prisha, but he did mind the idea of John going to see Licia. Explaining the difference was like choosing between two shades of green—one felt welcoming, and the other repellent. Prisha and John fit together like a puzzle. Licia was the cat who jumped up and scattered the pieces to the floor.
He had met her once at John's first live performance, and the way they looked at each other made Emerson feel... secondary. The sexual tension between them had been tight enough to strum, and then she'd come to the rescue when John lost control. Somehow, she’d doused the arousal of the crowd, then left without a word. John wouldn't talk about how they’d known each other, or the specifics of her abnormality. They knew so little about others like them, and yet John had let her walk away.
They'd only met a couple others like themselves, including each other. There were others on the Anons that seemed legitimate. It was hard to tell who was trolling them, but John’s contact, Glen, found two others through his work at UHP and sent them to the site. John also mentioned a girl he met years ago with unusual healing. They knew adult Abnormals were out there, they were just ultra-rare and staying hidden from the world.
Em wanted to know more of their kind and see if, maybe, he wasn’t alone in struggling with his ability. John used his like a tool, but Emerson’s wasn’t safe to use at full force on anyone.
“Come to bed.” John’s eyes were practically sparking with heat as he looked up through his lashes. Emerson felt his resolve weaken.
John had never been bothered by Emerson’s ability to absorb a person’s vital energy—their life force, spirit, qi, whatever people called it. He drank it like a horse drank water after a race.
Abnormals like him all shared traits with the generation born since The Shift happened sixteen years ago. They had unusual ways of interacting with the world or with their own bodies, like controlling metabolism or perfect recall. There was a barely concealed panic concerning the children, but the public was more than happy to rationalize the occasional oddity with medication side effects or too much fluoride in the water—all willingly ignorant to the growing problem, and completely blind to the adult Abnormals already among them.
When Emerson shut down the laptop, John slid his hands over Emerson’s chest and down his torso. They said nothing, and yet had a whole conversation in the way John stood and leaned his forehead against his, asking silently for something Emerson didn’t want to deny him of.
Something swelled in his chest, or his ribs suddenly shriveled up. There were words in his throat, pushing for freedom. He swallowed hard.
Emerson was always hungry. So, so hungry. He craved energy and John’s overflowing vibe meant that he always had more than enough to spare.
But it wasn't John's ability that kept him coming back. It wasn't that John needed him, or that he was exceptionally skilled in bed. It was how Emerson felt whenever John let down his famous mask and he caught a glimpse of the man beneath.
John didn't say anything, but stood and walked to the bedroom, his eyes on Emerson until the hallway seemed to swallow him.
Emerson pushed away from the desk and stripped off his shirt as he followed in John’s wake.
CHAPTER 4
John
The next morning John woke with Emerson in his arms. This was what he loved; quiet, soft moments full of comfort and safety. He could feel Emerson’s heartbeat in a steady rhythm, his breathing still deep with sleep. John wrapped tighter around him and kissed his neck. Last night had been a pleasurable patch to their problems, but he knew it wasn’t a fix. Still, he was determined to relish these moments. He'd craved this even back when he was eighteen and throwing himself at Aubrey's mercy.
