Though, he wouldn’t have stayed around the ghosts either. It hadn’t been Mother he avoided by going on business trips all the time. Perhaps he might’ve tolerated the supernatural oddities for her sake without the awful woman’s influence. It’s possible he feared that woman’s reaction to the ghosts more than the ghosts themselves. Also, without Mother punishing her for using her abilities, she would’ve talked to the spirits, removing their need to throw things around the house. Dad might not have even known any of them had been there except for her—at the time—glowing eyes. Back then, she had to activate the ability to see spirits. She’d kept it on so constantly while living in the Beneath, it had evolved into what Division 0 referred to as a ‘passive ability,’ always on, and her eyes no longer glowed simply from seeing ghosts.
If she’d known she had Suggestion, that man in the Beneath would’ve simply given her the ration. As soon as she understood what he wanted in exchange for food, she would’ve made him give it to her and not felt the least bit guilty over it. She wouldn’t have had to trade herself for a decent meal.
“Ngh,” grunted Evan. “Need air.”
She relaxed her hug.
“Pause,” said Evan.
The video froze.
He looked up at her, his eyes mostly hidden behind his dense light-brown hair. It had been an orb when she found him, but touched his shoulders now. Evan preferred his hair longish, so she saw no reason to force him to cut it.
“You’re getting squeezy. What made you sad?”
Rafael and Mia bothered her the most, one for her doubts she’d be good enough to solve a seemingly random gang murder, the other for all the bad memories it dredged up—and worrying she’d not be able to track the spirit down before it attacked someone else. Of course, she couldn’t tell her son about a rapist spirit. Theodore was a pervert, but he didn’t act out of malice or intent to harm. No, this spirit made him look downright puritanical.
“Bad case. Boy about your age lost his older brother and the police weren’t investigating it fast enough, so he took a pair of officers hostage.”
Evan blinked. “That’s kinda stupid. And dangerous.”
“Yes. He’s desperate and alone. Didn’t think he had another choice.”
“Oh.” Evan looked down at his feet, swiping his toes at the carpet. “If you wanna let him move in with us, that’s cool. It would be nice to have a brother.”
Kirsten choked up. Only picturing Dorian cracking a joke about her having hundreds of kids by the time she’s an old woman kept her from crying. “I don’t think that’s possible. He got himself in a lot of trouble with the law. They’re not going to let him out of the dorms for a while.”
“Oh. That’s sad they put kids in jail.”
“It’s not really ‘jail.’ Those rooms are kinda close to the one you stayed in, only no video games and they lock the door.”
“Ack! No video games?” Evan feigned horror. “That’s cruel and unusual.”
“Well, they need to make sure he understands that actions have consequences.”
Evan cringed. “Yeah. Even good ones. They should’ve just given him cit points.”
She tickled his side, making him giggle. “Are you going to run off and do something like that again without at least asking first?”
“No.” He laughed, grabbing at her hand. “I promise… unless like someone’s about to get hurt and I can stop it. Ghosts can wait for me to get permission.”
“Be careful, okay?” She ruffled his hair. “The dorms are safe, so there shouldn’t be any reason for you to jump into a dangerous situation to protect anyone.”
Evan twisted his head around again, peering up at her with an ‘are you crazy?’ expression. “Mom… there’s a few hundred psionic kids there. The wrong kid takes a spitball to the face, half the classroom is going to be on fire.”
She started to laugh, but wound up staring at him.
“I’m joking. No one’s that strong. And they keep telling us not to mess with each other because we’re all outsiders. But still, everyone’s a little afraid of new kids unless they have wimp powers like Astral Sense.”
“Hah.” She raspberried him.
Evan smiled and snuggled into her side again. “It’s okay if you wanna get squeezy. Just let me breathe.”
“Okay. Sorry.” She rested her arm around him. “I love you too damn much, and seeing a boy your age in such a bad situation got me sad and worried.”
“Don’t.” He grinned. “I have wimp powers. I can’t break the law.”
She snickered.
“Well… I guess I could snoop around astrally and see stuff I shouldn’t, but… that’s wrong.”
A momentary horrifying thought—teenage Evan spying on girls from the Astral Realm—came and went. She didn’t think he’d ever do such a thing. Then again, did the mothers of any criminal ever expect their ‘sweet little boy’ would grow up to become a killer, rapist, thief, or whatever? How do people go from innocent kids to evil adults? Were they born dark or did it come from something outside while they grew up?
The weight of responsibility crushed her into the sofa. Choices she made now would have such a huge effect on the man this boy could become. She squeezed Evan, making him gurgle.
“Are you okay, Mom?”
“Yeah. Just happy you’re safe.”
“Me too.” He hugged her back. “Feel better?”
She still worried quite a bit, but her mood had improved. “Yeah.”
“Play!” Evan thrust a finger into the air.
The rush of magical fireballs and galloping horses filled the air. For a little while, Kirsten tried to stop thinking about anything beyond having a wonderful moment with the boy she had come to love as a son.
Chimes leaked past the Monwyn soundtrack.
“Pause,” said Evan. “Someone rang the doorbell.”
“Terminal, door view.”
A holo-projector in the ceiling created a floating window in front of her with a view into the hallway, showing Samuel Chang.
“Hi, Sam!” yelled Evan.
Kirsten jumped up and ran to the door. She could’ve told the house terminal to open it, but that felt too dismissive. How she’d gone from sleeping in piles of centuries-forgotten trash to having an apartment with a 150-inch holo panel and a remote-viewing doorbell, she couldn’t even fathom. Part of her still felt like she trespassed somewhere she didn’t belong, but this place didn’t even come close to the awkwardness she’d felt while mingling with Konstantin’s crowd.
She poked the dark silver panel on the wall, opening the door.
“Hey…” Sam stepped into an embrace, kissing her on the lips.
Losing herself in the moment, she pressed close to him. Knowing she didn’t have to carry everything on her own made the load easier to bear. Not that Sam could do anything about a dangerous ghost but offer emotional support; however, having him there to talk with helped beyond measure.
“Hey to you, too.” She leaned back from the hug, feeling recharged. “C’mon. Don’t wanna keep Ev waiting too long. Bed time marches onward.”
Sam nodded, following her to the sofa. Evan flopped between them rather than stay on her right, a gesture Kirsten took as a show of acceptance. She tried to let herself believe this reality, that after so long, she might’ve at last found a man who had no problem with her being psionic and seemed like a nice guy. That Evan trusted him meant a lot. Not only for his being her son, but his clairvoyance had a way of feeling a person out. He’d never been the least bit afraid of Theodore, which made sense once she realized despite the ghost’s pervy exterior, he had a reasonably good heart—metaphorically speaking.
Nicole had run through numerous boyfriends, mostly because she had no tolerance for bullshit and wasn’t above using telepathy on them.
For the remainder of the Monwyn episode, Kirsten paid attention to the screen to keep herself from wandering down frightening or sad thought paths. Plus, Evan loved Monwyn so much she couldn’t le
t herself fall behind on the lore. Sometimes studying the fictional world felt like work, but she loved discussing it with him, watching him get so into it, and knowing she helped him be that happy. Completely worth the effort.
Once the episode ended, Evan hugged them both and ran off down the hall to get ready for bed. She’d let him stay up a little late to finish, but only about fifteen minutes. It pained her to think her frame of reference for an 8 p.m. bedtime came from Mother, but the time seemed appropriate for a nine-year-old. She’d probably extend it by an hour when he hit twelve, and push it out to 10 p.m. when he hit fourteen or so.
Sam scooted closer. “Bad case?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“You haven’t said much all night.”
“Yeah. Two bad cases. Though, one’s just tragic. One’s bad.” She leaned against him and explained both Rafael and the ghost.
He cringed. “I might be able to help out with the gang killings if the Citycams caught anything. The boy will understand your other inquest has to come first since you’re the only one who could possibly do anything about it. If I strike gold and find the brother’s killing on video, I could send it over to Div 2 and let them deal with it. It might be a P10, but if there’s zero work beyond going to pick the suspect up, they’ll do it.”
“Sam… There’s more.” She looked up at him, but closed her mouth as Evan emerged from the hall in his pajamas.
The boy ran over and again hugged them one after the next. “Night, Mom. Night, Sam.”
“Night little man.” Sam pressed a fist to Evan’s shoulder and gave a light push.
“Night, hon.” Kirsten kissed him on the cheek.
Evan wandered off to his room. A moment later, the lights went out.
“Not sure where to start, but the longer I wait, the harder it gets. I don’t want to ruin what we have.”
He brushed a hand over her hair. “I don’t think you could, but now I’m almost worried.”
“The case is hard for me. More than most.”
Sam took her hand in both of his. “If you were a victim of some kind of assault, I won’t hold that against you at all. You don’t have to worry I’m going to flip out.”
“I spent so long thinking I’d done something wrong.” Kirsten paused to gather the courage, then continued in a half-whisper. “Two days before the police found me, I was going down the ladder to look for food. This man I’d never seen before met me at the bottom. He seemed friendly. At that age, I was terribly afraid of adults. I wanted to run away, but he kinda blocked me from going anywhere but right back up. He didn’t hit me or grab or anything, so I stood there. He had a tin of beef stew. Military rations. Said I could have it if I did something fun with him.”
“Damn.” He squeezed her hand. “I think I know where this is going. That wasn’t your fault, Kirsten. You were, what, twelve?”
“Yeah.” She stared at his hands engulfing hers. “At the time, I didn’t know anything about anything. I suppose he’d been as gentle as could be given what he did to me. And yes, I know now that stew ration may as well have been a knife at my throat. Mother didn’t feed me well, and if I didn’t have ghosts helping me find things to eat down there, I wouldn’t have made it. Anyone looking at me would clearly know I’d been half starved. How could I say no to real food? I didn’t even know what sex was or that I was way too young for it.”
“I’m so glad the police found you when they did.”
She sent a sad smile into her lap. “I hid in my little cubby for a whole day. When the hunger got too much, I couldn’t make myself go back down out of the plate. I thought he’d be there at the bottom of the ladder again… so I risked going up. I had a friend, a boy younger than me. He said the food up top was better. One day, he went up and never came back. I thought he’d been killed or hurt or something. Probably, the police found him and put him into the adoption program, but back then, I assumed the worst had happened. I didn’t even know police existed. I crawled up a pipe I could barely fit in, rummaged some trash boxes for food and… I’d been so damn scared of that man, I couldn’t bring myself to go back down into the plate… so I slept right there in the alley.”
Sam pulled her into his lap and held her.
“Thanks.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “I know it could’ve been worse. He could’ve grabbed me and done whatever he wanted. But that woman today… maybe I shouldn’t have looked into her head. The man with me wasn’t violent at all, and other than taking advantage of me starving, didn’t force me to do anything. But, the way that woman felt… same. As soon as he started, I wanted to change my mind and tell him to stop. But he let me eat the ration first. I thought it would be stealing if I tried to run away…”
Sam leaned his head against hers. “You’re the strongest woman I know. To survive your mother, to survive being alone in the Beneath for two years at that age… heck, you took on two literal demons. It’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to feel the way you do, and I’m right here to help you deal with it.”
Kirsten teetered on the verge of tears for a few minutes, but they never quite flowed, pulled back by the relief that Sam wouldn’t regard her as dirty or shameful. “Thank you, Sam. I’m still getting used to having someone I can talk about things with.”
“Yeah.” He let off a wistful sigh. “I fully expected to grow old alone.”
“You did not.” She poked him in the side.
He raised a hand. “Swear. Basement-dwelling techies aren’t exactly in high demand.”
“Sam, you’re beautiful in more ways than simple appearance.” She picked at her nails. “Dorian always told me I was silly for it, but my biggest fear was being alone, too. Evan fixed that, but I can’t exactly talk about some things with him.”
“You need to start listening to yourself more often.” He kissed her atop the head. “You have a beautiful soul, Kirsten Wren.”
She looked up into his eyes.
“And the outside matches the inside.”
A powerful upwelling of emotions—joy, relief, and love—brought her to tears. She didn’t bother trying to act like she had the first clue how to handle the moment, and telling Sam she had no idea how to function in a relationship sounded too pitiful. Just being with him in silence soothed her far more than the SynVod ever had.
“Sorry for being a mess tonight.”
“I’d worry more if you ran into a situation like that and it didn’t affect you at all.”
She winced. “Ugh. I hope I never turn into one of those cops. They laughed at that boy’s dead brother. Made jokes about a ‘squished scorpion’ or another dead ganger. And… I’m not going to dwell on that right now. Right now, I want to be right here, with you.”
“Your wish is my command.”
Kirsten looked up, kissed him, then smiled.
“Too cheesy?”
“A little, but cute. I don’t mind. After today, I need cute.”
5
Turf War
Faces and record sheets passed by in a seemingly endless march the next morning.
The indistinct still-image of the ghost she’d lifted from the Citycam system appeared to be a white male late thirties to early forties with short hair. His face blurred too much to make a positive identification easy, nor did the imprecise suggestion of dark clothing offer any clues to his true age.
Most spirits appeared as they had at the moment of death, a potentially unfortunate quality of the afterlife that could prove awkward in cases of bathtub suicides, sex crime victims, or ghosts like the people Konstantin murdered as sacrifices.
She tapped her finger at her mouth, thinking. This one’s old. He’s probably figured out how to change his appearance… but he wouldn’t care to when he didn’t think anyone could see him. The search she’d started the previous night still ran, though over 207,000 results had already appeared in a record set that continued to grow by the minute. Even restricting hits to men with a history of sex crimes, going back to the start of the post-Corpora
te-War recordkeeping time made for a huge search.
Somewhere, a CPU cluster wept quietly to itself waiting for the pain to stop.
“I hate this,” muttered Kirsten.
“What’s that?” Dorian walked around his desk to stand beside her, arms folded, gazing at the screen.
“That there’s so many damn records here it’s basically useless. I’ve got no way to stop this bastard. All I can do is sit here waiting for another victim and hope something happens differently that gives me more information.” She grabbed her hair in frustration, but held back the scream. “Ghosts suck. No offense.”
He laughed. “I know what you mean. We can be sneaky. It took thousands of years for the living to acknowledge we existed… and only a minority even do now.”
“Right. And some of them think it’s all the work of a made up devil.” She clenched her fists, relaxed, then edited the search parameters to exclude anyone who murdered their victims.
“Don’t think he’s a killer?”
Kirsten leaned back in her chair, staring at the screens, her arms limp across her lap. “Not really. I mean, I can’t say I’ve read the minds of many rapists before, but there’s something odd about this.”
“Other than a spirit possessing a woman, making her travel a quarter of the way across West City to a particular dive motel, and engineering her assault?” Dorian pursed his lips. “This is not the work of a sound mind.”
She gestured at the army of holo-panels hanging over her desk. “It would take more than a lifetime to check every one of the records coming up.”
Harbinger Page 5
