She smacked him in the arm, which inspired a round of haughty laughter in their audience. “That is so bad! Don’t encourage them.”
“Why not? I like it.” He waved at them, smiling winningly. All of his many faults aside, he could be an incredibly charming man. He was undeniably handsome, with strong, masculine features, tan complexion, and eyes that made the typical woman long to take a dip in. “You ladies be there for a bit? Alright, be right back.”
Of course he liked the attention. She guessed any guy would. Still, the whole thing seemed cheap, somehow. “It’s not like they mean anything to you.”
“Holy crap, Mercy...Oh, sorry, Karin,” he held her name up like it was a nasty, wet sock. “When are you going to start getting it? Not everyone thinks the way you do, alright?”
She blinked, openly shocked at his choice of words, but he misinterpreted it, thinking no doubt that he had succeeded in needling her. “You think everything is a commitment, but it isn’t. Sometimes, people just get together for...this is going to come as a shock so just hold it together...for fun. Not everything is a major, life changing event, sometimes you just do stuff that feels good, like taking a woman’s…”
“Don’t say it. Do not say it. I don’t want to hear about your exploits in bed.”
“Yes you do, and you should. You could use a few more recreational activities, and I don’t mean at the gym.”
“You are just rude.”
“You are a prude.”
“I am not. I’m just not interested…”
“Really?”
“...in anyone here. Now drop it.” They both knew that he had the upper hand in whichever direction the conversation would go from that point on, so she made a point of shooting him her back off look, which she watched him consider ignoring for a few seconds before he nodded.
“Well, here you are. I’ll see you later, maybe,” he said, stopping at the steps to the Science B building where her Human Physiology 410 class was due to start in just a few minutes. Noticing something unusual in her, probably something crazy like the sound of her heartbeat speeding up, he asked, “What is it?”
“Nothing,” she said, trying to convince herself more than him. She had actually been looking around for the two guys from the day before, since she had run into them for the first time right up the stairs, “I’m probably just being paranoid, which would for sure please the heck out of Scythe since he is convinced I’m completely oblivious all the time.” Then, his words caught up to her, and she turned to him and asked, “What do you mean, ‘maybe’?”
“Maybe I’ll tell you later,” he shot back at her. “Now run along, I’ve got at least two dates to make.” He turned and headed back to the commons.
She gave his back a disapproving glare, which he could not have seen, but probably anticipated, since he lifted his hand and waved cheekily at her without looking. Rolling her eyes again, she turned and jogged up the stairs and entered the building. She was rushing now, because she was going to barely make it to the large hall on time, but it didn’t keep her from recognizing one of the students standing outside of Dr. Everett’s office. He was talking to a few other students animatedly and they hung on each word, nodding encouragingly.
He shouldn’t have noticed her, since she slid up next to two people who were going the same way, probably to the same class she was, and made sure that she was hidden behind them when she passed by, but somehow he did. She heard the familiar voice call out, but she shot forward, making her second escape into a classroom. She went down a handful of steps and then entered one of the thirty rows of seats that filled the auditorium. About halfway down the aisle, she sat down and started pulling out her notes, keeping her eye on the door again.
This time, however, the start of class proved to be no deterrent. The man stopped right inside the doorway and started scanning the aisles. Mercy hunched down in her seat.
Damn it. She wasn’t being paranoid. He was definitely on the lookout for her. The hall quieted down when Dr. Everett moved to the podium and started her lecture. “Today we are continuing from where we left off last class, and I’m afraid we’ll be jumping around a bit, so pay attention…”
He had spotted her and was making his way down the row behind her. Mercy glanced down at the stage, since the professor usually didn’t tolerate disruptions to her class. The woman clearly saw him, but she merely frowned and continued with her talk.
Mercy shied away from the man when he leaned over the back of the seat next to her and whispered, “Excuse me, but I really would like a moment of your time. Perhaps after class?”
Several students around them were watching, and not a few were grinning knowingly. “I told you, I’m not interested,” Mercy hissed at him, turning her head sharply and pretending to understand at least one word of what the professor was saying.
“I’m sorry. I’m not hitting on you. I wanted to ask you a few questions pertaining to Dr. Everett’s research. It will only take a minute, I promise.”
Her research? Into Human powers? What could he possibly want? The professor was openly showing her annoyance, and more people were turning around to look.
“Fine,” she snapped without looking at him.
“Good, after class then?”
“Whatever.” She stared back at Dr. Everett who had finally seemed to recognize her.
The woman’s voice was magnified through the speakers, “Are you finished, Mr. Gibbs? I’d like to continue with the class, at your leisure?”
“Yes, Dr. Everett. I’m very sorr…”
“Out,” she cut him off, gave Mercy one more cross look, and continued with her lecture. Mercy didn’t watch him leave, or hear much of what was said in the next minute. She stared straight ahead, her pencil hovering over her notes, forgotten.
Mr. Gibbs. Mr. Alan Gibbs was Dr. Everett’s top graduate student. He taught one of the professor’s classes, had at least one paper published in her area of study, and was head of her research team. She had never seen him before, because he wasn't involved in the lower courses, but she had heard and read plenty about him. He probably knew as much as anyone besides the professor herself about the recent trends in Human power research, and would have answers to most of the questions that plagued Mercy. He was someone she was interested in, but definitely not a person she wanted to be interested in her.
-----------
Scythe stopped outside the door and waited until they called for him. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and enjoyed the quiet moment. He had been researching practically nonstop since he had started this job, so he took advantage of the short breaks whenever he got the chance. Over the past two weeks, he had been able to help them locate five significant and a dozen lesser members of the movement they had been hunting. All of them had provided their team with valuable information about the group’s plans, the details of which already were helping the Scere combat the attacks against them in the capital. The Scere was even launching its own counter strikes which were predicted to be very effective at turning the tide in their favor, at least for the time being. He planned on leaving within the next week, having completed the most important objectives of the assignment, and having gotten just about as much as he expected to get from his personal investigations. Now it was up to the Scere to look out for itself.
At a sharp knock, he turned and opened the door.
He shook his head when Temper reached her hand up to pull the hood off the man’s head. He didn’t need to see the man, or look into his eyes to use his power on him. He and Cord had recently worked out a way to do it differently. After many months of practice, he found he could connect to a person’s mind without even touching him. All he needed was to be close enough for his power to reach out and make contact. In fact, he could have done it from outside the room, if he had needed to, because he could easily extend his power that far. But there was no real need for him to exert himself that way, so he didn’t.
He knew who it was, of course, becaus
e he had read the man’s bio and done a little of his own snooping around as well: Justice, one of the heads of a Family and a very powerful man. What he didn’t want was for the man to see or smell him, or Temper for that matter. So far, their operation’s location and the members of their team remained a secret. He wanted to keep it that way, especially from this man, who was known to be ruthless in personal and political matters. They had taken a huge risk by bringing him in, and he suspected that Temper and Soshia were hoping Scythe would bend his own rules a little accordingly, and wipe the man’s memory of the event. But, he had no intention of doing that, so he hoped that they had taken enough precautionary steps to prevent exposure and, if not, he hoped they were ready for whatever came of it.
He took a chair across from where the man sat and began. The energy that was always there, around and in him, he let expand out past his body. It flowed over the man and when it had covered him completely, Scythe focused it until it found an opening to the man’s mind. He entered there and very quickly found himself standing on the brink of his thoughts. An immense, open space stretched out in all directions. Floating in that space were spheres of different sizes and textures. Each gave off their own scent or feeling. Some were comfortable, because they contained memories of family or home or peaceful moments doing simple, relaxing tasks. Others were sharper, or spiny-feeling, with less agreeable memories. Some were tragically wilted.
Scythe began to spread himself along the inside of the man, similar to what he had done along the outside of his body, except now he was laying a microscopically thin layer of himself across the man’s thoughts. He didn’t venture inside of them, he merely got a feel for them. The longer he was there, and the farther he spread, the more familiar with the man’s mind he became, and the more he categorized and sifted through mass amounts of material. It was a feast for a mind that loved to do exercises like that, a mind like his. Cord was only able to do it to a limited extent, and it always gave him headaches and a sour temper.
Scythe didn’t have to ask for information like he used to; that was much more time consuming because the people whose minds he searched didn’t always know what he wanted. Now he could just quickly review all the information and call up the pieces that he needed, without having to sort through unwanted memories.
Scythe had sat there long enough to at least get started. As he continued to fan out and take notes of what he found, a part of his mind focused on the sphere that he had pulled forward to examine more closely. Although none of the minds he had examined so far appeared damaged, he studied the integrity of the sphere before he entered it. A shadow, or wavy, blurry edges, was an indication that someone had tampered with the memory.
He and Cord were the only ones Scythe knew who could do it, but Scythe always checked anyway. There were many powered people and more appeared every day; it was unlikely that the ability to search and alter memories would be limited to them. If he ever found an unstable memory, he would have to immediately and with precision examine the subject to find out who the other gifted person was; strong power users were a dangerous group, and Scythe made it his business to be a collector of information about them.
As he expected, the memory was fine, so he walked in.
A study in a fine house, one he didn’t recognize, bloomed up around him, the walls, chairs and tables growing up from the floor. Dark wood paneling lined the walls, making the room feel closed in despite the large size of the space and generous number of expensive light fixtures. Justice sat with four men, two of which Scythe had already seen, but two of which were new. One of the fresh ones he knew of, although he had never met him, as an uncle of an old friend of his: Tiburon. The last man, Orion, Scythe recognized from his study of the Families.
“When do you need me to move on the bill?”
“The fifteenth. We are ready on our end. Winter has the exposé ready for the media for the following day. We’ve got the votes so we’ll push it through right away. Then we’ll ride their bad press until the uprising in Three Reeds.” Tiburon, the apparent leader of the meeting, grinned, leaned forward and refilled everyone’s drinks.
Justice nodded his thanks. He didn’t like working with the man, but had to grudgingly admit that he could get results when he wanted to. He knew his wife was considering a match for their son with someone in Tiburon’s family and he had been hesitant to approve it. The man was a shark, no doubt about it, so his line would be no different; he didn’t know if he wanted a shark for a daughter-in-law. On the other hand, she was going to be a very powerful, rich woman soon, and that was a strong temptation.
“Will the King sign it?”
“Yes. He has no choice, and he has no love for them, anyway.”
“When did any of the kings care about them? They are the last ten pounds that tip the boat.”
“That’s right. Although, my source in the Family says that he won’t disband the Scere, ever.”
“Your source? Who?”
Tiburon barked a laugh and took another drink. He shook his head at the ridiculous question and then continued, “There’s something else there, boys, and we’re going to find it.”
Justice thought he was a little overzealous about bringing down the Scere. Most of the Families just wanted the Humans released for labor purposes, and to get a hold of what land they still controlled as cheaply as possible. Tiburon wanted the Scere gutted and cleaned. “I could care less what secrets they are hiding. It’s undoubtably something unrelated to my purposes. I hope we are clear about what our shared objectives are, Tiburon. My family is not after Scere blood.”
The other men watched to see how the man would respond. Tiburon smiled without smiling, and in an instant, Justice made up his mind to interfere with his wife’s plans. “I have not forgotten what our objectives our, Justice. I believe that I was the one who proposed them to you in the first place. Your family will be satisfied.” He spread his hands to include all of them, even the ones not present. “Everyone will be able to have their piece.”
“And if we can obtain access to the Humans without dismantling of the Scere?”
His eyes soaked up the shadows around him, “Then that’s what we’ll do, but if I get the opportunity, I’m going to take it. That’s where I stand.”
Justice nodded, “Fair enough. I thank you, for your transparency.”
Tiburon smiled. He liked to be complimented, respected. He liked to be the big fish. Justice took a small sip from his deep orange whisky. Well, they all did, didn’t they?
Scythe pulled out of the memory and felt around until he found a few more he wanted to review. When he was done, he stood up and went to the door, already preparing in his head the report that he would immediately type up. He paused when the gasping behind him molded itself into a voice.
“You...you’re going to regret this.”
Temper, from her position behind Justice, met Scythe’s eyes with a solid, concerned stare. He knew what she was thinking. It would be safer to just wipe the man’s memory, or replace it with something innocent. It would be so easy.
But, looking was bad enough. The man’s dignity was already violated. Scythe would do no more than that today.
Besides, tearing people’s memories out and rewriting what he wanted there was exactly like slipping into an oily pool filled with feces. That stuff didn’t wash off easily. Actually, it didn’t wash off at all.
Scythe nodded, silently accepting the man’s enmity, and left, closing the door behind him.
Chapter 5
Scythe stood with a dark blue-haired girl in the living room of his aunt’s house. The sun shone through the door behind them, warming his back. He gave his aunt Dren a pleading look but kept silent.
“I’ll take good care of him, Auntie. He is my cousin after all.” The young woman wrapped her arm around Scythe in a gesture of goodwill.
Dren looked doubtfully at both children. “His mother and I are usually there when he plays with the children...”
“Yes, b
ut she is sick and you have to be here tending her all the time. Poor Scythe hasn’t been out of this house for a week. He needs to play, Auntie. He’s only eight. I’ll watch out for him.”
“Where exactly are you going?”
“Just to the park. There are other kids there already.”
Dren hesitated a moment more, deciding, “Alright, but only for a half hour, and you get back here quick if you see any trouble brewing, do you understand me, Prize?”
“Of course! Don’t worry. Be back soon! Come on, Scythe honey, we’re going to the park.”
“Alright! Bye, Auntie Dren!”
“Humph.”
Scythe looked adoringly at his cousin as they walked down the street, his hand in hers. Her shiny hair was trimmed short, curling at the tips. She was the prettiest girl Scythe knew, with a small mouth, deep blue eyes shaped like almonds, a thin face with well defined features, and the rare gray skin that appeared once every two or three generations in their family, skin like Scythe’s.
“Here we are, go play now.” She said when they reached the park. She pushed him towards the other children playing a ball game in the field.
Scythe took a few steps before looking back at his cousin uncertainly.
“Go on. You have to do it sometime, why not today?”
Scythe turned and headed out into the field. The other children stopped their game and watched him approach.
“What do you want, freak?” Some of the kids laughed at the older boy’s joke. Encouraged, he goaded Scythe some more, “Your mommy finally let you out?”
“No, she’s sick.” Scythe explained.
Some of the kids, including the two boys at the leader’s side, stopped laughing, startled by his sincere answer; instead, they watched him curiously. Other kids laughed harder at the next joke: “Sick of you, no doubt.”
Halfblood Legacy Page 8
