Freak City

by Saje Williams

  "Uh ... okay. Are you some kind of a shrink, then?"

  She shook her head. “No. I'm a telepath. Among other things."

  "A telepath?” The thought of having her—of having anyone—rummage through his head made him a little queasy. “I didn't know there was any such thing as telepaths."

  "That's okay. We didn't know there were any such things as werewolves until you showed up."

  Since he didn't know what to say to that, he didn't say anything.

  "Good. You're a smart one. Sometimes silence is the best answer. I'll warn you now, this is likely to be very uncomfortable. I'm going to put you through a couple of virtual reality-like simulations, but they're going to occur entirely within your head. It'll be like dreaming, except you'll have complete control of your own actions. I'll be controlling everything else.

  "Is that okay with you?"

  His mouth tasted like hot ash. “Do I have a choice?"

  "Not really,” she replied earnestly. “Not if you want to attend the Academy. You're older, and you've been through some serious shit already. We need to know if you'll be fit for government service with the PAC when you're done."

  "Why wouldn't I be?"

  "I don't know. That's what we're here to find out."

  "Okay. Is Dean Thoth going to be here for this?"

  "Actually,” she said, with a glance at the now closed door leading into the waiting area, “I think he's going to be conducting his own interview for the next several minutes."

  "Fine,” Ben sighed. “Let's get this over with."

  * * * *

  He is standing on a rooftop, several feet away from a crazed-looking man dressed in rags holding a gun to a young boy's head. His mind tilts madly for a moment as he tries to remember how he got here. Then it comes to him. He has just graduated from the Academy, and chasing down this particular madman—a meta whose abilities has pushed him over the edge—is his graduation assignment. A little like tackling the Vampire Queen had been for Amanda.

  "You come any closer and I'll kill him,” the man—subject—says, grinding the weapon's muzzle into the boy's temple.

  The boy himself looks to be about seven or eight, and scared enough to pee his pants on the spot. Not that Ben would blame him if he did. He stares at Ben with wide eyes filled with fear and a smattering of hope.

  "You don't need the boy,” he tells the subject. “I'm a much better hostage than he is. Bigger. The kid's too small to make a good shield. A SWAT sniper will put a bullet in you before you go ten feet."

  "Shut up!” the mad meta snarls. “You're trying to confuse me."

  "I think you're already confused, Max.” That's right. Max is his name. The subject's name is Max. His meta ability is ... invisibility. He can turn invisible. But only sometimes, and never in full sunlight.

  They were in full sunlight now. The intense light of the sun burned down on them like the eye of an angry god. Max is well and truly trapped up here, but if he can get below, into the building proper, he can disappear and sneak out. That's what he wants to do.

  "Max. You need to think about this. The boy isn't a good hostage. He's too small to shield you until you get to the stairs. I'd be better. They're not going to try to shoot around me to get to you. I'm bigger than you."

  Max hesitates. “I didn't mean to do it."

  Do what? Ben asks himself. He doesn't know, so he doesn't comment. He waits for Max to say something else.

  "I don't want to go to prison!” Max wails.

  "We don't send metas to normal prisons,” Ben tells him. “We have a secure facility just for people like you. A place where you can be safe."

  "Safe? There's no such thing as safe! You're trying to fool me!"

  "Fool you? Why would I do that? You've got the gun, Max. I tossed mine over there, see? I'm unarmed. You have all the power right now."

  "That's right!” Max shrieked, pointing the weapon straight at Ben. “I've got the gun, I've got the power. You're just a lousy fed—you ain't no meta. You don't have anything without your gun."

  Believe what you want, Ben thought. Please believe that. “I'm trying to help you, Max.” Is he repeating the name too often? No. It's a humanizing touch. People like to hear the sound of their own name. “To help you and the boy. What's your name, kid?"

  "T ... toby."

  "Hi, Toby. Nice to meet you."

  Max stabs the barrel of his weapon at him again, seemingly angrier now. “Don't talk to him. Talk to me. I'm the one with the power!"

  "Yes, you are. You're the one with the power, and the one with the choice. Are you going to let Toby go and take me, or are you going to wait there until a SWAT team sniper puts a hole in you?"

  Max snarls wordlessly. He's close to the edge now, both figuratively and literally. He's been backing up slowly this whole time, moving closer and closer to the precipice. “You're trying to kill me!"

  "I'm trying to save you, Max. You and Toby."

  "No!” He shoves the boy away from him and levels the weapon at Ben's chest. As soon as the kid is away, he rushes him, feels the impact of five—no, six—slugs in his chest. Another whizzes by his ear but he's there now. He reaches out, grabs the barrel of the gun. It's hot, but he ignores it. He squeezes, folding the metal, as he grabs the lapel of Max's ragged jacket.

  He picks him up and shakes him until the useless weapon falls to the rooftop, then spins him around and slaps a restraint cord around his wrists. “Max Daley, you're under arrest for assault, kidnapping, and attempted murder. You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you free of charge. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them?"

  He drags Max's shaking body toward the rooftop door, where he's met by several other agents who then cart him away.

  * * * *

  Ben blinked and he found himself back in the Dean's office, looking deep into Renee's violet eyes. “Good,” she said. “You passed.” She turned away and walked to the window. “That was the easy part."

  He waited silently.

  "How were your grades?"

  "Good. Particularly the last couple years."

  "Average?"

  "3.5, 3.6."

  She glanced back at him and nodded. “That's good enough. Ever had a Kelly test?"

  "Never even heard of it,” he replied, with a quick shake of his head.

  "It's like an IQ test. Only smarter. It tests different types of intelligence—mathematic, linguistic, social, mechanical, tactical, artistic, and conceptual. We're looking for someone with high social, tactical, and conceptual intelligence. They tend to make the best leaders.

  "I'm the DH—Division Head—for the PARD. That's the Paranormal Action Response Division. The concept is monsters hunting monsters. A PARD agent's full designation is LEOPARD, which means Law Enforcement Officer—Paranormal Action Response Division."

  "You plan on turning monsters into cops?"

  "Exactly. Fully capable of handling other monsters or metas who are a threat to society."

  "Good idea,” he said.

  "Yeah. It is. So far we've got two vamps signed on. I'd like a third. We've also got something else I think you'd be interested in. Another lycanthrope—that's the term we're using for your kind, shapeshifters, I mean—except this one is a ... wolverine."

  "A wolverine? You're kidding, right?"

  "Nope. A wolverine was stolen out of the San Diego zoo one night. Never turned up again. But about a month ago this guy wandered into Tacoma. Came straight to the Shea Building. Said Dave sent him."

  "Dave?” Ben frowned. “That's—"

  "The guy I bit. The guy I turned and didn't kill. The former hit man."

  Ben stared. The guy she bit? That would make her ... the very first vampire? “Cory mentioned him."

  "I imagine he did. Your actions in Redburn speak well of you. And the tr
aining you took with Gunnery Sgt. Scorpius as well. He speaks well of you too, by the way."

  "Good to hear."

  She clapped her hands together. “All right. I'm done. You'll find Sharice in the lounge in the adult wing. That's to the left, by the way. She's the adult wing prefect. She'll assign you a room and issue your bedding.” She frowned. “You have any luggage?"

  "Just the pack on my bike."

  "Uh-huh. Go get your pack. I'll have your bike taken to the garage. You won't be riding it for a while."

  "Yeah—that six week seclusion. That's pretty weird, by the way."

  "No. It isn't. It's pretty normal in the business. You'll just have to take my word for it. It's like basic training or boot camp."

  "Oh.” He knew about boot camp from Scorpius. But that was eight weeks. How hard could this be?

  "Go.” She pointed toward the door.

  Ben nodded and walked out.

  The Dean and the other two were gone. Shrugging, he headed to grab his pack.

  He stopped just on the stoop, a little taken aback to find a kid sitting on his bike. The boy, hair dark and tousled, skin a polished mahogany, flashed a toothy grin and hopped down. “Hey. That yours?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder as he trotted up the steps.

  "Yeah. It's mine."

  "It sizzles, yo?"

  "Yo. I'm Ben."

  "Azreal."

  "Azreal? Quite a name."

  "Way things work around here. I've been in the Academy since I was two. One of Athena's pet projects. Call me Az. Everybody else does."

  "Meta?"

  Azreal—Az—nodded. “Yep. What kind of freak are you?"

  Ben tilted his head and grinned down at him. “I'm a werewolf."

  "Werewolf? That's manic. What's it like?"

  "Weird."

  "Yeah, weird. I like weird. Hey, yo, you're in the weird capital of the world. This place is Weird Central. Well, I gotta get inside before the prefect does a bed check.” He gave a wink and dashed inside.

  "Well,” Ben murmured. “Maybe I belong at Weird Central."

  Ten

  Jaz watched Ben step into the office and shifted her gaze to Dean Thoth, who eyed her speculatively. “So. Jasmine Tashae, is it? What's your relationship to this girl?” he asked Baraz.

  "Adopted father."

  Thoth lifted a thin, feathery eyebrow. “Legal?"

  "No. Is that a problem?"

  "Depends. Thoth gave Jaz a long, steady look, then, after a long moment he nodded. “She's suffered some abuse—but none recently."

  She flushed. “How did you know that?"

  "I'm not the mind-reader, if that's what you're thinking. I just know what abuse looks like. A lot of our younger students have suffered abuse—typically sexual. The way the viruses spread originally meant they could only be contracted through sexual congress. Which means the only child that could have one of the viruses—"

  "—was one that had been molested,” Baraz growled. “Damn Loki."

  Thoth gave Baraz a strange look. “Not fun to think about, is it? Pretty soon we'll be getting second generation metas. Those are kids who picked it up from their parents. That'll sit a little better with me,” he admitted.

  "Would you mind setting her up with a room?” Baraz looked a little guilty for interrupting, Jaz thought, but he pressed on. “I believe we have some business as well."

  "We do.” Thoth nodded. “How old are you, Jasmine?"

  "Fourteen,” Jaz replied, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Why?"

  "I think you're old enough to find Thwan on your own. She's a dark-skinned Asian girl—prefect for the youth wing. Tell her you're a new student and she'll get you situated."

  Jaz glanced between them and sighed. They wanted to talk without her around. She could fight with them about it, but, in the end, she'd lose. So she gave them both a shiny grin and bounced off toward the youth wing. “See ya."

  The two men exchanged glances.

  "So you're alive,” Thoth murmured, once Jaz was out of earshot. “I had a feeling the reports of your death were—"

  "—greatly exaggerated? Indeed. I'm a little harder to kill than that. How long have you been back?"

  "I showed up about the same time you disappeared. I managed to convince Athena and Loki to learn magic ... finally. Honestly, you should really think ab—"

  "—absolutely not. I'm not interested in being a magician."

  "Mage."

  "Whatever. What I want is a job as the Academy's self-defense instructor."

  "We already have one of those."

  Baraz smiled. “Is he as good as I am?"

  "He's not bad."

  "That's not what I asked."

  "No. He's not. But, for a human, he's damn close."

  "Huh. I'll have to see him in action. Tell me, how'd you know I was me?"

  Thoth shrugged his thin shoulders. “I just knew. Might have been the Loki comment."

  "Huh,” Baraz grunted. “I'm going to have to watch it with the others. So far I've managed to avoid them, but—honestly—how long is that going to last?"

  Thoth shook his head with a sigh. “I think I liked you better when you were dead. I'll find a slot for you on the payroll. Go take a room in the adult wing. Tell Sharice that you're staff. She'll get you set up."

  "Thanks, Thoth. Do me a favor and keep this quiet, will you?"

  "Sure. Ruin my fun. Imagine the look on Loki's face when he first finds out,” Thoth remarked dryly.

  Baraz chuckled. “Now that is an amusing thought."

  Thoth's office door opened and Renee walked out. Baraz gave her a light brush of his gaze and focused on Thoth. He definitely didn't want her to know he was back. Not yet. She'd tell Loki. Then everyone would know.

  "Renee, this is Baraz. He's going to be working here with us for a while. Baraz, this is Renee. She's the person in charge around here when the sun goes down."

  Baraz gave her a swift nod. “I suppose I oughta go get a room set up. Nice to meet you,” he said, before heading back toward the entrance and the matching corridors leading between the wings.

  Renee's eyes fell on Thoth for just a second and she snorted. “He's back, is he? Damn."

  "I really wish you wouldn't do that,” Thoth hissed.

  "I've told you—I'm not doing it on purpose. It's just that your shielding sucks."

  * * * *

  As Jaz crossed the foyer a small figure darted in front of her, skidding to a halt before the door outside. He offered her a wide grin and a wink, then dashed out, the door shutting with enough force behind him to set the chandelier above ringing.

  She opened the door to the middle left—there were three doors, but one she thought was probably a closet, and the last one a bathroom. So the middle door it was. She opened it slowly, then stepped into the long hallway. Somewhere in the distance she could hear music. Sounded like reg-rap. Damn, this hallway's long.

  She had the sneaking suspicion that this corridor extended quite a ways past the edge of the house. Even though it made no sense at all. She walked to the first door on her right. A small rectangular gray plaque on the door said ‘Lounge.'

  So she opened the door. Six kids sprawled around on over-stuffed blue furniture, three staring intently at the HDV on the far wall, two more playing a video game on a smaller HDV unit in the corner to her left. Another teenager, probably around her age, sat half curled up on a chaise lounge, a clear sports bottle of what looked like soda sitting on the arm. She looked up from her book and smiled, teeth gleaming white in the vulpine mahogany smoothness of her face. “Hi,” she said brightly, I'm Thwan. You must be one of the new kids."

  "I guess I am. I'm Jaz."

  Thwan set the book down and pushed herself up. “I suppose you'll be needing a room assignment. Fetch!"

  A blond boy of about nine years with big round glasses slumped over against the arm of the couch and peered at them owlishly. “What?"

  "She needs bedding. Trot down there. Grab her an orienta
tion package."

  He sighed deeply and stood. “Can't I just fetch it?"

  "You know the rules. Go on."

  He sighed again and dashed out without another word.

  "That's Fetch. Over there, trying to kick each other's ass in the virtual universe, are Tommy and The Kid."

  "The Kid?"

  "Uh-huh. He's the skinny twerp with the green streaks in his hair. Tommy's the one in the Mariners cap. He's a baseball freak. Lives and breaths the game. During the winter he turns into a recluse—sits in his room and plays video ball. Sometimes The Kid can draw him out to hang out with the rest of us, but he's only happy during baseball season."

  "Weird."

  "Tommy's a mage. You'll learn. Mages are quirky."

  "Oh.” Jaz kept her face blank. It honestly didn't offend her, but she wondered if it should.

  "What's your deal?"

  "Deal?"

  "You're here for a reason, right? You're a meta?"

  "I don't know,” Jaz told her. “Baraz told me he sent a blood sample in—said I'm a mage."

  Thwan flushed a little, her already dusky skin turning a shade darker. “Oh. Sorry about that."

  Jaz smiled mischievously. “It's okay. I am quirky."

  "Who's Baraz?"

  "My adopted father,” Jaz answered, realizing, in that moment, that she'd actually grown to think of him that way. He'd told both the werewolf and Dean Thoth that she was his daughter, but it hadn't sunk in until now. At the time it almost seemed as though it didn't matter.

  It did matter. It felt strange, but good. Did she think of him as a father figure? He obviously thought of her like a daughter.

  She found herself wondering if he had a real daughter. She knew next to nothing about him. Nothing about his past. His present she understood. She knew where he was now, but where he came from remained in shadow.

  She raised her eyes to Thwan again. “So what's your deal?"

  The young Asian-American woman crossed her arms and gave a wide smile in response. “I call it the Evil Eye."

  Jaz discovered she didn't like the sound of that. “So what does this 'Evil Eye' do?"

  "Oh, you'll get a chance to see it in action soon enough. Let's just say that you don't get to be prefect around here unless you can back up your talk with real game."