Dream Stalker: Talented: Book 1

by Hopkins, Amy

  I spent the next few hours sitting in my bed, charging a bracelet with Talent. It was something I'd neglected to do for a very long time and I resolved to work on it each evening from now on. Talent pulled from a charged object wasn't terribly efficient and would only give me so much extra time before the fatigue and headache set in, but I had a feeling I'd need every little bit of help I could get over the coming days.

  * * *

  The next morning, I rose early. I went outside to see Martin still sitting in the car, bundled up in a blanket against the cold. He looked up as I approached and opened the window.

  "I'm making scrambled eggs," I said.

  "Mm? Oh! Oh yes, that would be great."

  We walked into the shop, Martin stretching out his stiff muscles. I led him upstairs into my kitchen. He sat while I made breakfast. We didn't speak while I worked, but it was a companionable silence. I loved being in the kitchen and it wasn't long before the smell of rosemary, mushrooms and fresh coffee wafted through the house. After plating up I sat down across from Martin. His hair was mussed from his night in the car, and tired creases surrounded his eyes. We sat and ate and when we were finished, Martin stood to put the dishes in the sink. He insisted on washing them, so I took up a tea towel to assist.

  "Thank you," I said finally. "You didn't have to stay last night. I felt safer knowing you were there."

  "Nonsense. You're our best lead, can't have you taken out while our backs are turned." His words implied he'd only done it to catch the killer, but his face softened, suggesting it was a little more than that. Perhaps he wasn't as cold and uncaring as he pretended to be.

  "Do you and Harrod have a lot of friends?" I asked on impulse, realising after I said it how awkward it sounded. "I mean, Talented friends. No one seems to have heard of you guys."

  He seemed to grasp my real intent, and told me that though they'd lived in the city for some time, they didn't know a lot of people. Harrod had only tracked Martin down a few years back - Martin, with no idea he had Talented blood running through his veins, had assimilated into his new life with some trepidation. His position in the community was extremely rare. Martin should have been like me, if not stronger. A twist of fate however, saw him born without a lick of Talent whatsoever, and his mother, rather than risk her high standing in the community for a Faulted child, immediately passed him to an orphanage and never spoke of him again.

  When Harrod’s mother passed away he found out the stillborn baby she’d had when he was a child had really survived - she'd had some regret and willed one of the manors in her name to Martin. After Harrod left the Inner City, they'd decided to reside there together to get to know each other and make up for lost time. I imagined it had been a jarring transition for both of them, but especially Harrod who would be raised to think of magic equating to a person's worth.

  "We get along well. Taught each other a few things. We're mostly happy," he finished. Though I had no doubt that was true, I wondered if either of them pined for outside friendship - one new to London and the other on the wrong side of the Wall.

  "Is it hard? Between the two of you, I mean."

  "Because he's Talented?"

  "Yes. Well no, not just the Talent itself. My father taught me the way of the Talented society. I didn't have the training of a full Talent - I didn't live it, I just learnt it. It's so different though. They're so cloistered, it makes their world view pretty messed up."

  Martin stared at the dish water in front of him. "Yes. It's very hard sometimes."

  "He gave up a lot, didn't he?"

  "It took him a long time to accept what I was. It didn't come easily - it challenged everything he knew. He still has moments where I can see what he's thinking, that he misses it... but at the same time, he knows it's all a gilded pile of shit.” He dropped a plate in the sink with a splash. “They think the world works a certain way, but it doesn't. We, the normal people, we don't need their magic anymore. We have governments and technology and all the things we relied on them for. They're becoming irrelevant and those who see that are either adapting, or they're running in fear."

  "Do you think he'd go back if they let him?"

  "Oh they already did. He was never really shut out, just lost a few people that used to hang off his coat-tails. They're more tolerant now, or they think they are. He goes into the city sometimes, still has friends there. He's - well. There are things on the move on the other side of the wall, and he's helping them along, in a way."

  "How do you mean?" I wondered if it had anything to do with the phone call the other day that led to their abrupt departure.

  "There's a vote coming up. There's a lot of support for change and if it goes our way, it could mean a complete change of government."

  I knew about the upcoming election - it happened every decade or so but meant little to me. For as long as I remembered, nothing had changed either inside the wall or outside.

  "Have you been into the Inner City?"

  "Oh god no, they'd throw me out in a second if they didn't send me up in a puff of smoke first."

  "But you said..."

  "Oh, but I have a record. A dangerous criminal, that's me. A Talent came in one day and destroyed a whole section of books on the premise that they were 'dangerous'. I got angry."

  "Books?"

  "I'm a librarian. Well, I was. When someone came in and disintegrated half a shelf of books claiming they were 'anti-Talent propaganda' I tried to stop him with force. A Talent. A high ranking one, apparently. I'm told I was lucky to have lived through it and for a while I wished I hadn't. Harrod bailed me out but the records are still there. We'd only known each other for a few months and I hadn't expected him to step in, but he did. He never did tell me what happened that day, but next thing I knew he was on my doorstep, apologizing for all his kind and asking if I'd give him the chance to make it up. Now, we slum it with the mortals and fight the injustice of the times. Superheroes, really, cementing the hate of our overlords against us and not really winning the gratitude of anyone else." He smiled wryly.

  "You have mine," I said quietly. "Martin, I don't have anyone else. I mean, I know a lot of people but none that would step in front of a bullet for me. No family who'd help. It seems like you and Harrod are the only people that might actually be able to do something." He looked at me with sad eyes. His concern pricked at me and I was immediately uncomfortable. Not like me to share so much. I smiled brightly and said, "Guess we'd better get on with it then. Guy isn't gonna catch himself, is he now?"

  We finished up and headed downstairs.

  "Oh hell, I was supposed to go and collect Harrod's brownie yesterday. It's still at Melanie's."

  "I'll come with you. Harrod was going to meet me here later but we have some time."

  * * *

  We decided to drive rather than take the port-gate. When we arrived, Martin pulling the car up outside her house, Melanie rushed outside, looking stricken. Her expression faded to relief as she saw me.

  "Oh Emma, what happened? When you didn't come back I was so worried, I didn't know how to get in touch. When I saw the car... though, I guess if something DID happen to you, they wouldn't send someone to tell me." She reached up and hugged me hard. "Who's that?"

  "I'm Martin, a friend of Emma's. So very pleased to meet you. You're Melanie I take it?"

  I looked at him sideways. His demeanour had changed from his normal, irascible self to downright charming. After what Melanie had been through I wasn't sure how I felt about him flirting with her. Reigning that thought in, I berated myself. I wasn't her keeper, though if she expressed an ounce of discomfort I had no qualms about telling him to back off. Looking at her coy smile, I doubted that would be needed.

  We headed inside and Melanie insisted on making a pot of tea. I did my best to hide my surprise as we entered the pristine house. The scrubbed floors and spotless curtains were a huge improvement on what I'd left. They'd even rearranged the furniture. There were two boxes by the door with my name on them
.

  "Oh, we found some more things of Carmel's." Melanie told me when I asked what they were. "I hadn't realised how much she'd squirreled away over the last few years."

  "You two were close?" Martin asked in a quiet voice, responding to her drop in mood. He trailed her into the living room as she told him how they'd met, and how they'd grown close over the time they'd lived together. As if expecting the question, she explained that Carmel's Talent had never caused a rift between them, rather Melanie's fascination with magic had been something they bonded over. Martin seemed surprised at that - because of the history between the two, most Mortals despised anything to do with magic.

  The brownie I'd left with her brought the tea over to where we sat. Melanie and Martin seemed to have forgotten I was there. Martin served the tea and gave Melanie a mock bow as he passed her a cup. I rolled my eyes as Melanie blushed. We stayed for a short while, chatting about general things. Ok, Martin and Melanie chatted. They talked about the trials of living with a Talent, and of trivial things like where the best place in town was for a drink and what bands were playing where. Martin didn't seem at all concerned about her wheelchair - I knew she was often treated differently for it, even by mortals who were more exposed to injury and disability than those of us with access to Talented healers.

  Melanie seemed as I remembered her before Carmel's death - animated and warm, ready to laugh and at ease within herself. I was glad. It eased a little of my guilt for what she'd been through and let me hope that everything - not just this one thing, but everything - was going to work out.

  I clung to this hope, even as we readied to leave and I saw Melanie retreat back into herself again. I could understand why she didn't want to be alone. I resolved to visit more often.

  As the brownie we'd collected bounced into the back seat, I thanked Martin.

  "What for?"

  "Cheering her up. She's been through a lot."

  "Well, I suppose you can thank me again Friday night."

  I shot him an enquiring glance and he held up a slip of paper.

  "You got her number? Martin! She's my friend! And she's been deeply traumatised. Don't you go taking advantage of that." I was mostly mocking in my criticism but he took it seriously.

  "She gave it to me, I didn't ask. She's a big girl who can make her own choices.... Oh alright, I promise I'll be careful."

  I settled back into the leather seat for the drive home. As we turned the last corner, I saw a cluster of people and cars just past the shop.

  Chapter Six

  Martin pulled up into the spot he'd in parked earlier and we hurried down to the gathering. Two cars had parked in the middle of the street and there was a handful of people standing around Gibble, who bent over something in the middle. I pushed through, Martin and the small brownie on my tail.

  "Gibble? Gibble, what's going on?"

  He turned big eyes to me. His movement allowed me to see past him, to a brown, furred body on the ground. I flew to it, a sob wrenching itself from my chest. Lenny. My poor, beautiful friend. He was lying on the road, broken and bleeding.

  "Gibble what happened? Who did this?"

  "Lady, I not be knowing. The shop be opened when I came and no one be there. I did see a car and a lady, then I did see Lenny-dog. He be hurt, so I be calling someone to help him. Be still Lady, they will be helping him soon."

  "Why? Why was he outside? He never goes out without me, and he NEVER runs into traffic."

  "Lady... I do not be thinking a car be doing this."

  Gibble said this in my ear in a low voice. No one else heard. A woman paced back and forth looking stricken. When I noticed her, she blanched away, looking sick.

  "Did you see what happened? Did you do this?"

  "I- I'm so sorry. I was turning and he just shot out, I didn't even know I hit him until I looked back. Oh God, I'm so sorry. I didn't know what to do. This-" She gestured towards Gibble. "This creature arrived and said he'd send for help."

  Blood oozed freely from Lenny's shoulder, where a gouge of skin was missing. Part of his face was blistered. Blood foamed at his mouth and his breathing was laboured. The bottom half of his body lay at an awkward angle and I could tell a lot of damage had been dealt. I tried to make sense of the injuries but my brain refused to work. The woman behind me kept offering apologies. Apologies wouldn't help Lenny right now. I tuned her out.

  The brownie head-butted me firmly and held out a bowl of water. Shaking, I poured it over Lenny's face where it had blistered. Behind me, I heard snippets of conversation "Yes, she made a call..." "...a vet I think". I pressed a towel into the open wound. Martin must have sent the brownie inside for that, and the water. He came over to inspect the damage.

  "I've called Deirdre. I don't know if she can help, but she said she'd try. Emma, I don't think this was an accident-" I whipped my head around, searching for the woman I'd seen. "No, not her. I think you were robbed, your door was broken and inside is a mess. Lenny might have chased them out. It would explain why he's out here, at least."

  I shook my head, not caring about the shop. Right now, my priority was saving Lenny. I took a deep breath and fumbled out my wand. Closing my eyes to balance my core, I started to trace a spell.

  "No silly girl! Not like that, he's a dog, not a filthy human."

  My head snapped up and I came face to face with a knee high creature with skin like an old tree. He - I assumed it was a he - hurried into the circle of people and pushed me out of the way. I growled and he looked at me.

  "You are his?" He asked. I nodded, figuring it was true enough. His gnarled face relaxed a little and he gave me a nod. I assumed that meant I could stay.

  "Olfred, I be in your debt if you be saving Lenny-friend."

  "Ay, you will be. Not often you offer up a favour of your own, boggart."

  "You be doing the work and I be owing you. Do not be failing."

  "Ay, I know wha's at stake. Now shut yerself and let me work, Gibble-friend."

  Olfred pulled out a small pouch. From it, he removed a long wooden staff topped with feathers and beads. He also took out a bowl of water. As incongruous as it was seeing these appear from a tiny bag, it didn't surprise me much. The Others often tread the line between this world and theirs, and sometimes stuff was just plain weird when they were around. Martin made a small sound of amazement behind me.

  I watched closely as Olfred worked, first touching the staff to Lenny's body, then dripping the water over each wound. A tendril of smoke rose with each touch. Lenny lay still in my arms, rolling his open eye up to look at me steadily. His calmness caused me the most fear - he should be in pain, writhing and whimpering. If the pain had passed, his body was giving up. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I held him.

  Olfred, after having touched the staff on every injury, then dragged it around in a circle. Before he closed it, he paused and looked at me.

  "Will you give of yourself to let the creature live?"

  "Yes," I said numbly, not even asking the cost. There would be no chance of negotiation, not for this. I would give.

  He closed the circle. When he smacked the base of the staff on the ground with a crack, everything slipped into a warm fuzziness. My bones ached and it felt like my eyes were being sucked out of my head.

  I felt rather than heard the 'pop' that ended it. Air whooshed back into the circle, and everything regained its equilibrium. I fell back, dazed as someone rushed in front of me. Curly blond hair obscured my vision as someone checked my pulse, waved a hand in front of my face and yelled in a muffled voice. I looked up - when had I fallen to the ground? - to see who it was. Deirdre was here. Apparently satisfied with my condition, she turned her back to me and started running her hand over Lenny's body. As my hearing cleared, I heard her muttering curses - something about 'stupid Otherworld meddlers trying to kill her people'. I had no idea what she meant.

  I struggled to my knees and leaned over to check Lenny, mindful of my stomach that tried to empty itself as I moved. Steadying
myself, I saw that he was breathing, if asleep. His body was straight and lithe and his wounds were closed. Dry, matted blood still stuck to his fur in places- in others, fresh, pink skin showed where hair would need to grow back. Otherwise, he'd gained a sleek sheen to his coat that looked much smoother than normal.

  I sat back as Olfred waddled over to place a hand on my shoulder. "Sit ye'self back now. Tha' will have taken its toll on ye."

  Deirdre whirled on him, furious. "What on earth did you think you were doing? A spell like is can be highly unpredictable and extremely dangerous. You could have taken too much from her. You could have killed her little man and if you had, I assure you, you would have had me to reckon with. You will never take life from one of my people again. Do. You. Understand?"

  "Ah pipe down, ye silly thing. I'm a god - or I used to be one at any rate. A wee one, but a god just the same. A casting like that draws from my world. Just because ye can't handle Other magic ye'self, dinna mean those that hail from there canna. Yer lass was safe, I'd not take more than she could give."

  He took life? A rush of understanding hit me, making my head reel.

  "Deirdre, he had my permission. I gave it freely." No wonder she was so angry - this kind of magic was anathema to Talents and I imagined a healer would have more hate for it than others.