The Duals (An Urban Fantasy Thriller)

by Karen Hayes

  A doubled-up two-headed snake is tattooed on his arm, its coils resembling a horizontal figure of eight, the symbol of infinity. The dead man had an identical one.

  Either an "infinity snake" tattoo is the latest fad, or... or it actually means something.

  "In you go," Heaven steps aside as if she doesn't want to be too close to me as I enter. She presses her fingers to the earpiece as if listening to someone.

  Greene nods. "That's it, dude. Make yourself comfortable. There'll be someone to check on you later. We're off now. We're almost late for practice."

  The room is nice and neat with a wall-mounted bed and a computer desk. A lone flower peeks out of a tall vase.

  "Wait," I can't resist asking one last question. "Mind telling me what kind of ability you have, man?"

  They turn their heads to me simultaneously like two owls. Heaven still looks serious, grim even.

  Greene smiles. "You don't know the rules, dude. You need to mind your manners in the future."

  "Meaning? Is this a tactless question around here?"

  "No, but you don't address only one of a pair. My ability belongs to both of us," he reaches up to lay his hand on Heaven's shoulder. "And so does hers. That's what makes us duals. Without each other, we're useless. But together we're a force to be reckoned with," he clenches his fists and raps them together.

  Heaven shifts her feet, promptly changing her pose. An invisible burst of heat singes my face. Not physically, of course, but I can sense it in my mind if not in my body.

  A series of crackling and hissing sounds comes from behind me. I swing round.

  The flower in the vase bursts into flames, turning into a long slim column of fire, bright red at its center. It burns for a couple of seconds like a Roman candle, then crumbles to ashes.

  My room's door slams shut behind my back.

  When I finally turn round, my two pyromaniacs are gone. I can hear Greene laughing in the corridor as their footsteps die away in the distance.

  When the sounds are gone, I try the door. It opens. So they haven't locked me in, after all. I can walk around freely. I can get in the elevator if I really want to or just run down the stairs and leave the building.

  I can indeed. Still, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna walk into Burly Diana and her fellow gorillas - sorry, guardians - round the first street corner. Didn't this sleek bastard - somehow I don't feel like thinking of Adam as "Adam" - say that the Agency knows about this building?

  I seem to have developed a serious dislike of the guy.

  The room has a bathroom and a kitchenette with a tiny stove, a kettle and a cupboard containing some kitchenware, a bag of coffee, a sugar bowl and some teabags. There're also some apples and oranges in a fruit bowl on the counter. I'd rather prefer a rare steak and chips but it looks like an apple will have to suffice.

  Munching on an apple, I kick off my shoes and walk over to the window. Same bird's eye view. I boot up the computer. It opens straight away without asking me for a password. It has Internet connection, too.

  I drag a stool over with my leg and slump onto it. They probably monitor all incoming and outgoing Internet traffic. Whatever. I don't give a damn.

  I open the search engine window and enter,

  A two-headed snake resembling the symbol of infinity.

  Nothing relevant. Twice I change the wording, then study every page and follow every Wikipedia link until a chain of clicks takes me to The Encyclopedia of Ancient Mythology.

  Bingo. I'm looking at an image which is eerily identical. Apparently, the two-headed snake thing used to symbolize a very real concept.

  I slump back in the chair and cross my arms, staring at the monitor.

  This doesn't make sense!

  The mind boggles. I might need to look into this further.

  I close the browser window and check out the shower. The room is bugged, no doubt about it. Adam is probably monitoring our every move. Not personally, of course, but I'm sure some surveillance people are now watching my every step on their screens.

  I don't care. They're very welcome to their bit of voyeurism. I peel off my clothes, throw them on the floor right in the middle of the room and head into the shower. It's utterly modern, a bit like a spaceship cockpit.

  I turn all the jets on until they lash my body from every direction, then turn the setting to Alternating Hot and Cold. I spend a few minutes enjoying the contrasting temperatures changing from freezing cold to almost scorching hot.

  The shower rejuvenates me. My fatigue is now gone. I'm a guardian, dammit! I'm akin to a nuclear reactor accumulating power for my carrier. For a snotty little girl who can't even think straight and needs all the protection she can get. Great mission, I just love it.

  I rub my body red with a towel, wrap it around my hips and walk out of the shower.

  Where I bump into Adam's cold stare. Adam Vector, as large as life and twice as ugly, sitting on a chair placed at the center of the room.

  "The door wasn't locked," he explains. "I knocked but you didn't answer. Can we talk?"

  I walk over to the computer desk, feeling pretty stupid. All my clothes are lying heaped at his feet. Should I pick them up? And then what, apologize and go back into the shower to get dressed?

  I pull the computer chair out and sit down. "Did Sarah send you here?"

  Why is it I keep speaking as if I want to antagonize him? I just can't help it. Sarah's probably right: I instinctively sense a rival alpha male in him.

  "No one can send me to see anyone," he replies dryly. "Normally, it's me who tells people what to do. It's been like that for quite a while. Sarah told me about your conversation and your decision to spend the night here. So I thought I'd better talk to you in person. You two seem to have a rather unusual relationship, don't you think?"

  "Why, what's so unusual about it?"

  "I've noticed that you two seem to argue a lot. Normally, a dual pair tends to be very close. They don't have to be involved romantically even though it's quite a common scenario. But you two can't stop arguing. Why?"

  I shrug. "Sarah can be a bit unpredictable."

  And you, mister, can be way too arrogant... and you're definitely keeping something away from me.

  Our relationship is none of his business, anyway.

  He looks at me askance. "Can she? Do you think she might actually be born that way?"

  I can't think of a good quip so I ignore his question entirely. What if he's right? What if her naturally independent character is the very thing that drives me mad about her?

  "One other thing I need to ask you," he changes the subject. "When you're around other duals, do you feel anything unusual? Especially with other guardians."

  "Yes. This girl, Heaven-" I stop, lost for words.

  Adam is patiently waiting. I'm obliged to finish my phrase,

  "Heaven seems to have this weird repulsive effect on me. It's as if we're the same poles of a magnet."

  He nods. "That's what I thought. It's not very common. Most duals can only sense a weak echo of the powers they themselves possess."

  "This wasn't an echo. I could sense her clearly."

  "That's what I'm trying to tell you. You and Sarah are different from the others. Not just more powerful but you're capable of lots of different things. Which is why I need you."

  I chuckle. "Now why doesn't that surprise me? Question is, what's in it for us?"

  Adam lays his hands on his knees and leans forward. "Why would a lion want to join a pride? Why do antelopes escape a predator running all together as a herd? We belong together. That's what's in it for us. You two are as dear to me," he lays his hand on his left breast, "as the blood that runs through my heart."

  "Shakespeare, isn't it? You aren't the only Ivy League graduate here. How about the dead body I found on the street?"

  "The dead body on the street?" he begins, faking surprise.

  "Please," I interrupt him. "Don't tell me you know nothing about it. When I came round, he was as dead as a doo
rnail. And I was standing over him with a lump of steel in my hands."

  "Yes, I know," Adam turns sad. "You mean Chase. He was one of us. He'd lost his carrier a lot time ago. Still, he continued working for us even though the Agency was begging him to join them."

  "Now this is something I don't understand. Do you really want me to join you? Despite the fact I've just killed one of your men?"

  He stares at me blankly. "We sent Chase to protect you. It was Ramiro who killed him."

  "Ramiro? Who the hell is-" it's my turn to stare at him. "But I was sure it was me-"

  "Ramiro is Diana's partner, one of the Agency guardians. Chase managed to locate you the next day after the night club attack. We have our sources in the police who allow us access to eyewitness statements and CCTV footage. What it means is that Ramiro too could find you. So he did. Chase was defending you. I think you were trying to interfere. Ramiro killed Chase but he failed to dispose of you. So he just ran off."

  I think of the fresh scar on Ramiro's cheek. Did I do that?

  Relief floods over me. A huge load falls from my shoulders. I didn't kill anyone! In the last twenty-four hours at least.

  This turns my thoughts in a different direction. "Who were we?" I ask. "Sarah and I, what was our life like before that club incident?"

  Adam slowly shakes his head. "Our scouts have only found you recently. By then, you were together already and the Agency was after you. You must have met a few months before that. Not more. You must have discovered your respective powers and decided to look into it. By doing that, you must have drawn attention to yourselves," he makes a helpless gesture, then gives me a long studying look. "What I'd love to know is what it was you two have discovered," he says. "It must be something important, judging by the Agency's reaction."

  Now I can almost physically feel the weight of my clothes heaped up by his feet. I can almost see the wad of banknotes in one of the pockets... and the memory stick in the other. The funny stick shaped as a vintage car, chock full of undecipherable files. The one with the scary picture.

  My paranoia gets the best of me again. What if all this conversation is only a decoy aimed at tricking me into giving him the stick? What if it's the very thing Adam Vector really needs, trying to fool me and Sarah into believing how important we are to them?

  "I've no idea," I reply. Could Sarah have already told him about the files? I really need to warn her to keep her mouth shut. Then again, she might not listen. She seems to have a crush on this sleek douchebag already. "I don't remember much, to tell you the truth. I think we met a man in the club..."

  "That's gonna be Stier."

  "Excuse me?" I say matter-of-factly, even though I jump mentally at the sound of the name. Matt Stier, of course! That's why we went to the club: to meet him. He gave us the files. Can't remember how we found him to begin with... but Sarah used her powers to convince him it was in his interests to cooperate.

  In the meantime, Adam continues,

  "That's the name of the person you'd met in the club just before you were attacked. He disappeared. I think he's dead."

  "What else do you know about him?"

  He pauses. He either doesn't know or he wants me to think so. "Nothing really. Such a shame you can't remember what he told you. The Agency was in such a hurry to get rid of you they set up an impromptu attack on you near the club."

  His stare is watchful. "You sure you can't remember what you spoke to Stier about?"

  "I haven't got a clue," I shamelessly bluff. "My memory is far from recovered."

  I've been meaning to ask him about the significance of the two-headed snake symbol but now I'm not sure it's such a good idea. It might be nothing after all. I'd better look into it myself at some point. Adam's insistent fishing makes me very uncomfortable. Did he notice I'd lied to him?

  His cell rings softly. He brings it to his ear, listening. "What, here? Now? Very well. I'm coming. No, I'll receive them in my office."

  He slides the phone into his pocket and gets up. "Our presidential candidate and his security chief are here," he says, looking down at me. "They want to talk to me about something. In the meantime, I suggest you give it all a good think. You need to decide what to do with your life."

  He leaves. I stare after him, open-mouthed. When he rose and looked down at me... I could swear I knew this kind of look.

  How strange. I don't remember Adam Vector. I've never seen him before: his face, his body language, the sound of his voice are all new to me. But somehow I do remember his eyes. I've definitely seen him before, but where?

  I spring to my feet, cross the room, open the door and take a peek down the corridor. Adam can still be seen, about to turn a corner. Am I supposed to leave now without solving this new mystery? Dammit! I haven't dreamt it up!

  I open my mouth, close it, then open it again. Adam takes a step round the corner, about to disappear from sight.

  I find my voice. "Hey, I've made up my mind. Can you hear me? I think I'm gonna stay."

  Chapter Nine

  Sarah

  I'M PARCHED. I never thought that concentrating on other people's minds could be so exhausting! The few hours I've just spent in training under Adam's supervision have left me drained. I'm groggy and struggling to focus as if I've just spent a few sleepless nights.

  I've no idea if Adam trains other duals personally but he hasn't left Chris and myself alone since morning. He showed me the right way to slip into a person's mind. Apparently, you shouldn't force yourself to do it: on the contrary, you need to relax and try to become one with the person you're trying to control.

  I'm not very good at it yet. Adam suggests I should try to have tactile contact with the subject at first. According to him, human minds aren't created the same. Some are easy to penetrate: normally it's people who've never come across mentalists like myself before. But if the subject has suffered a mental attack in the past - or if he or she is exceptionally intelligent - controlling them might not be so easy.

  The Hermetis practice grounds resemble a long concrete box. They're located at Level -2, deep underground. Which is exactly where they should stay, if you ask me. You should see what goes on in here! Even Chris frowned when he first saw it. Me, I just gawked at all the levitating objects, human beings hanging in mid-air, burly guardians bending pieces of construction steel, not to even mention all the explosions and miniature tornadoes...

  Not a safe place to be if you don't know what you're doing.

  I'm thirsty and exhausted. When Adam finally walks out of the practice hall, I follow him. I'm still angry with Chris about our last conversation: too angry to stay with him on my own.

  So I leave and walk down the gray windowless corridor. Its walls are reinforced with strips of metal which serve as makeshift billboards, holding various safety posters pinned to them with fridge magnets. The air shudders with rhythmical thudding sounds. The aircon rustles, pumping in air.

  Adam is waiting by the elevators. Three more men stand next to him; one of them, a tall black guy, seems to be trying to convince him of something. I notice a water cooler in the corner and beeline for it.

  Adam looks at me. His stare lingers; then he nods to me. He probably wonders why I didn't use the water cooler in the practice hall. He must be thinking I want to eavesdrop on his conversations.

  Whatever. I need to be going back to practice in a moment but I linger in the relative coolness of the tunnel.

  Adam turns back to the black guy. I take a plastic cup from the stack and wait for it to fill, staring at an omnipresent McAllister poster over the cooler advertising his Times Square speech tomorrow. Lots of ten-dollar words and the promise of a Kanye West opening act.

  Now that's interesting. Kanye West! I like his songs. I'd love to see him performing live.

  "The police refused to spare more men," the black guy says in a low voice.

  I'm really not eavesdropping but I can't help hearing it. He's probably the local security chief or something. I can just about
read the name on his ID badge: something-Coleman.

  "That's the Police Department playing their dirty games," Adam says.

  "That’s what we thought. In any case, it's irrelevant. Problem is, we need more staff."

  "I'm sorry but I can't see how I can help you."

  "But Mr. Vector! You did say you had an expert we could use..."

  "You mean Chase. He's dead. Killed in the line of duty two days ago."

  "I'm sorry," Coleman's voice softens. "I didn't know that. Surely there must be someone else we could use? Just two or three people. They don't have to be trained experts. All we need is some backup just in case. An extra pair of eyes isn't too much to ask for but it can make all the difference."

  "Half of my staff are now on the West Coast. They won't be able to make it back in time. So I'm afraid you might have to use your own resources. In any case, it's Times Square! What can possibly go wrong there?"

  I get the impression that Adam is trying to get rid of them.

  "That's what you said in Maryland," Coleman objects. "And this is a much bigger event. Things can get very bad very quickly. I'd rather we play it safe and post more staff than regret at our leisure. In which case the Agency-"

  Oh. They seem to have a problem. What are they so upset about? Times Square - they probably mean the event that's advertised right in front of me.

  I'd love to go there. Not just to see Kanye West live. I'm just very excited about everything that's happening here. The Presidential elections. McAllister is their candidate, the mind boggles! This is the kind of stuff duals do here in New York. This is their life. My life too, provided I want to become one of them.

  Then it's Kanye West doing the opening act... what can a girl do? Especially as I know now that the police are off my back.

  "How many staff do you need?" I ask out loud, turning to them.

  Coleman hurriedly averts his gaze from my backside. Adam suppresses a smile.

  "Excuse me?" Coleman asks.

  I take a sip of water and repeat my question, "How many operatives exactly do you need?"