The Empowered, page 12
“Hey. Hey!” Ava shoved me.
I twisted her arm behind her and forced her up against the wall. “I may not matter to you any more, but Ruth should.”
“Mathilda, that’s enough.”
Ruth stood in the kitchen, pale and trembling, her house coat looking two sizes too big for her.
I let go of Ava.
“She shouldn’t be smoking inside.”
“You’ve bigger problems,” Ruth said.
Ella came out the hall, rubbing her eyes. Must have been napping.
“What do you want, Mat?” she asked me.
“To help, that’s all.”
I looked at Ruth. “I don’t expect to move back in,” I told Ruth.
She wobbled, and Ella helped her into a chair. Her skin seemed even more paper-like than the last time I’d seen her. She started to speak, broke into a long, racking cough.
Ella brought Ruth a glass of water.
“I got a job,” I blurted out as she drank.
She waved at me silently, wiped her mouth with her housecoat’s sleeve. “Where?”
“For a research company.”
“How.”
“They wanted an Empowered.”
Ruth sat up. “You can’t use your power.
I paced the room. “My PO knows. He got me the job.”
“Don’t lie, Mat.”
“I’m not.” My face was hot.
“I mean it.”
Ruth always knew when I lied, damn it. But I couldn’t tell her the truth. I reached into my coat.
The envelope of cash was bulky in my hand.
“What’s that?” Ruth asked.
Ella and Ava both stared at envelope. I held it out to Ruth. “It’s an advance on my salary.”
“Mat, I won’t take dirty money.”
“It will help you.”
“No.”
I thrust the envelope at her a second time. “Take it.”
She pushed it away. “I won’t take dirty money.” She crossed her arms.
I stomped toward the door, whirled, and flung the envelope on the floor, twenty dollar bills falling out. I stormed outside and slammed the door behind me.
I ran down the steps. It was dark now, but my heart was in darkness already. I stalked over to the curb next to the Dasher and, head in my hands, fought to muffle my sobs.
I did this for them—why couldn’t Ruth see that?
I lost track of time.
Footsteps came toward me. I looked up, and Ella, her eyes red and face tear-streaked, crossed the parking lot to me.
I stood, feeling dizzy and angry and afraid.
“Ava and me helped grandma back to bed,” she said, her voice small. “She's getting worse.
No. She couldn’t get sicker, not now, not when I was starting to earn the chance to save her. “Bad?” I asked, feeling like an idiot.
Ella nodded, sniffled, and wiped the tears from her nose with the back of her hand.
“Very sick. But she’ll probably get better again. She…she has these episodes.” Ella sounded like a lost little girl.
I wanted to hug her to me then, tell her big sis would take care of everything. I kept my arms at my sides. “What about Ava?”
“She’s mad at you, but she’s also scared. Like me.”
Damn Winterfield and his deal with the devil.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Ella nodded. “I picked up the money. I’ll use it to help pay for things. If Grandma asks, I’ll say I have a job, I’ve been helping her balance her checking account, so it should be okay.”
“Thank you.”
She put her hand on my arm. “Why did you leave, Mat?”
The outdoor lights flickered on. A sliver of moon hung low over the trees to the west, just below a cloud.
“It’s better this way.” That was all I could tell her.
I got in the Dasher and drove off.
In Special Corrections my best friend was a woman named Lenore. She was a lifer, but they were nearly all lifers in Special Corrections. Having a shot at parole was exceptional, and it was only because of my age when I went in—sixteen. Lenore had been in for twenty-five years. She never talked about her life outside, and never told me what her power had been. “It doesn’t matter,” she said when someone brought it up. “What matters is now, and making the most of now.”
She had no patience for fools who got “despondent.” She didn’t care about sad, or even depressed. No, it was despondent that she held up as an example of the mindset that would ruin everything for you. She worked out each day in the yard, always wearing a red knitted cap. It was one she’d knitted herself, unlike that crap machine- made cap Gus wore. Her dark skin would gleam in the San Diego sun as she ran. She didn’t grin like an idiot at the endorphins like some muscleheads inside did. She was serene. When she got angry, she didn’t holler and shout. Her anger was like quiet thunder.
She’d have no patience at all for the despondency squeezing my heart now. She’d probably tell me despondency could get me killed, and then how could I make up for screwing up all those years ago? I’d shout about how this sucked and wasn’t fair, I was trying to help Ruth and the twins, and they had locked the door on me.
She’d just shake her head and tell me I was being a fool.
I was royally pissed off from the imaginary argument in my head by the time I got back to my new place in North Portland.
I made the arbor vitae’s outer branches pull back fast, too fast. The trees scream in my head went on and on, even after I gently urged it to close behind me. I stood there in the backyard, listening to the screaming until it finally died away. My damn anger wrecked everything.
On the back porch I fumbled with my key in the dark and dropped it. I bent over to pick it up and the deadbolt drew back. I stumbled and fell on my butt, then jumped to my feet, heart racing. Raised my fists.
The door opened and a shadowy figure stood there. I could just make out a hoodie. I cocked my right arm back to take a swing.
“Mat, it’s me!” Hoodie whispered.
I knew that voice.
Alex.
“Hey, sorry about that,” he said. “I heard you drop your keys and thought I’d help.”
Yeah, help get himself decked.
We went inside. He led me through the kitchen to the living room, turned on one of the battery lamps. We sat down, him cross-legged, me with my knees pulled up. “Why are you here?” I asked, once we were both seated. It was too much to hope I’d be able to have privacy when I needed it.
“Are you always this blunt?” Alex asked. Was that disappointment in his voice? He pulled his hoodie back. He had a thick five o’clock shadow. “I’m checking up on you.”
I rubbed my hands on my pants. “Isn’t that Winterfield’s job?”
He smiled. “It’s both our jobs.”
Of course it was. He’d given me his cell phone number, and I had it on mine. Calling Winterfield meant doing the pay phone tango.
“Besides,” he added, “I’m easier going.”
That made me laugh. “True.” I grew serious again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We need to keep things on a need-to-know basis. You didn’t need to know until now.”
I pushed myself up, loomed over him. “Oh, I see how it is. You wanted to make sure I was trustworthy first.”
He sat there and watched me, his eyes half in shadow. “Is that what you think?’
I began pacing. “Yes.”
“Well, you should have been back here hours ago. I’ve been waiting since 2pm.”
“I had to meet with Winterfield.”
He gave me a sour look. “Thanks, I knew that. But where were you afterwards?”
“I had to think.”
He shook his head. “For five hours? You must be tired. You should have come back here sooner to rest.”
“I think I know when I need sleep.”
“Oh really? Look at yourself now.”
I wanted to hit him. Instead, I stuffed my hands in my jacket pockets and kept pacing. “What of it?”
“You visited Ruth and the twins, didn’t you?”
This shouldn’t be any of his business. Or Support’s. “Yes.”
“You can’t do that, remember? It’s too risky.”
“I won’t be going back,” I said. My heart sank. Back in Special Corrections, Lenore had been right about despondency being the enemy, but how could I help but feel alone now?
He helped me sit down on the futon, listened while I slowly told him what had happened.
Okay, so Alex is Support, but I had to talk to someone. Right now, a sympathetic, concerned, and incidentally handsome guy was the only one I could talk to. My only other friends were plants, and that was a pretty one-sided relationship
I rocked back and forth as I talked to him. I thought I heard the house creak, but I wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter.
Alex looked around, eyes wide. “What was that?”
The world was branches, roots, growing, pulling water from the earth. I tasted the sweet tang of earth.
“Mat, stop it.”
The branches stretched, aching for sunlight, but it was night. I willed them to stretch higher.
A hand slapped my face.
I blinked. I was on the floor, looking up at the ceiling.
Alex knelt beside me. “You all right?”
I sat up, rubbed my jaw. “You hit me.” Still smarted, too. “You pack a mean right slap.”
He chuckled. “Sorry, but you were circling.”
“What?” I had no idea what that meant.
“Caught in a looping state with your power.”
I gave him a hard look. “I was?” I twisted my hands. Funny. I was the Empowered one, but Alex, the normal, knew more about being an Empowered than me.
He nodded. “Seeing your family must have been wrenching.”
I shrugged. “Yeah.” I couldn’t stay put. I started pacing. The house felt like a tomb. The air was stuffy. Alex stood silently and watched me walk back and forth. He must have thought I was nuts.
I went into the kitchen. And gasped. Outside, a wall of branches pressed against the window. The arbor vitae had grown into a twisted monster freak.
I had done that. Somehow my anger had spurred its growth without me consciously trying.
“Wow.” Alex stood beside me, hoody pulled up again. “You said you weren’t powerful, but man.” He shook his head. “I’m impressed.
“I didn’t exactly plan this.” My angry subconscious had done it.
Alex peered out the window. “The yard is completely hidden. You know, you can’t leave the trees like this.”
“Gee, you think?”
“Yeah, I think,” he retorted.
“Sorry.” Actually, Alex was being pretty damn nice about the whole thing. Winterfield would have torn me a few new orifices for doing this.”
I closed my eyes, imagined the arbor vitae shrinking. The trees shuddered and moaned. Began to scream. Eyes still shut, I worked with my hands, shaping the power, fighting to ease the branches back.
I opened my eyes. The bushes were smaller, but not as small as they had been
“I guess that will have to do,” I said. My whole body ached. I looked at Alex, who watched me with obvious worry.
“I’ll live,” I said. “I don’t suppose you brought some wine? I could sure use a drink.” I’d had enough of dealing with my power for the day.
He raised an eyebrow. “Winterfield doesn’t authorize alcohol consumption,” he said.
“I can dream, can’t I?”
He left the kitchen, came back a minute or two later with a bottle of red wine, plastic cups and a corkscrew. Alex grinned. “Not that I always listen to him.”
I smiled back at him. He opened the bottle, poured us each a glass.
I took a swallow and closed my eyes. God, but I’d needed that. We drank in silence. When I’d finished my glass, I put it down and looked at him. “So, what’s your deal?”
Alex looked surprised at the question. “Not sure what you are asking.”
“Are you really just Winterfield’s partner, or more like his apprentice?
He laughed. “Yes, I’m really his partner.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure, I’m junior to him. That means I get to play undercover cop and dress up in the fine attire you see me in.”
I laughed, really laughed.
We sat at the table and ate insta-meal dinners by candlelight. I chuckled at his stories from his time in the International Peacekeeping Force in Russia and his run-ins with the mafia there. I so needed this.
I wondered what the real reason he was here tonight was.
I didn’t care. I was happy he was.
10
Two days later, in the morning, my phone rang three times, then stopped.
Mutter’s signal.
He and Winterfield both had a thing about phone protocol. Screwy and irritating.
I drove to the nearest pay phone, and called the number Mutter had given me, using the same three rings. Hung up. Then called again. Stupid, but what choice did I have?
Mutter picked up on the fifth ring. “Time to go to work,” he said.
I swear I could hear the smug smile in his voice.
The address he gave me turned out to be an old garage in a canyon in Southeast where trains dropped off and picked up freight.
The building looked freshly painted, dark green. Metal shades covered the windows, and the garage doors were down. The place seemed deserted.
As I walked up, a side door was flung open and Keisha stomped outside. She gave me the stink eye. She was dressed all in brown leather: jacket, pants, boots. The jacket was zipped up all the way.
I crossed my arms. “Oh, did you open the door for me? Thanks!” I made sure my sarcasm was obvious. With a hardass like Keisha, it's always good to go with obvious.
Her eyes narrowed. “Very funny, bitch.” She jerked her head toward the open door. “Inside.”
I gave her a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Gee thanks, teamie, I never would have guessed that’s what you intended. Thanks for spelling it out for poor little me.”
She flicked her fingers together and a pair of razor blades floated out of her jacket’s sleeve. The polished steel and sharp edges glinted. A four-inch steel nail floated up from the ground, joined by half-dozen shorter, tack nails, and the collection began to spin around itself, like a serial killer’s mobile.
“I won’t kick your ass if you get out of line,” she said. The mobile spun faster. “I’ll cut your ass.”
If we were inside Special Corrections, we’d have to have a stare down. When someone is out to rule you, you either stand up for yourself or buckle under and let the other woman run you.
If we had been in Special Corrections, our powers wouldn’t matter. We’d be wearing null cuffs, and our powers would be blocked.
But we were outside.
Spiky weeds grew up from the bare earth beside the garage. The weeds quivered, all potential, spikes ready to grow. I could surround Keisha in an embrace of green, a living version one of those medieval iron maiden torture devices, and she’d scream out how sorry she was.
I let out a slow breath. I had to stay calm.
“I’m not going to play,” I told her, and walked into the garage. Razor blades and nails spun faster as I passed, but I didn’t flinch. Couldn’t back down. I went inside
The Cadillac Monarch was parked inside the garage.
Gorilla shelving lined both walls, filled with plastic storage bins. The back wall had racks of power tools and two work benches.
Peep leaned against one of the benches. I laughed when I saw him. He had a long black duster coat, open over black jeans and a black silk shirt. His blond hair was slicked back. He looked like a scarecrow trying to be stylish. His thick lenses gleamed in the harsh white light from the overhead fluorescents. Way too much black for his complexion. Made him look like a cartoon Western villain.
He frowned, but kept his mouth shut.
Gus appeared next to me. He was dressed in a new parka, olive with white fur lining the hood, clean cargo pants, red woolen lumberjack shirt and work boots. Mutter had made him clean up big time.
He looked like a nervous rabbit, which is to say, practically panic stricken.
Mutter stepped out of the Cadillac. His high-collared, tailored black suit must have cost a fortune.
The door slammed behind me. Keisha came up beside me, close, trying to intimidate me by getting into my space. We glared at each other, almost nose to nose.
“Ladies, ladies,” Mutter said. “Please.”
I shrugged. Keisha ground her boot against the concrete.
“That’s better,” Mutter purred. “This is an important day.” He snapped his fingers. Must have been a cue for Peep, because he rolled a workbench over beside Mutter, then retrieved a slim briefcase from the Cadillac and laid it on the bench.
Mutter snapped open the slim briefcase with flourish, and pulled out a hand-drawn map of a building interior.
He pulled out a telescoping pointer and tapped the map. “This is Sylvan Investments. They occupy floors six through eight of the Lansing building on 4th in downtown. However, Sylvan is just a cover. The office space is actually utilized covertly by Support.”
Keisha didn’t look happy. “We’re going after a Support installation? That’s a good way to wind up dead.”
Peep took off his glasses and polished the thick lenses with a silk handkerchief. “There's no money in knocking off Support operations.”
Mutter tapped the center of the map, middle floor, the one labeled Seventh. “There is in this case.”
That got everyone’s attention. We all leaned forward to get a better look
“What kind of money?” Keisha asked. “Cash?”
Mutter shook his head.
“Bullion?” Peep asked. He pointed on the map to a room with thicker walls than the rest. “That looks like a strongroom.”
“It’s not.”
“Then what is it?” Keisha’s exasperation was obvious.
Mutter reminded me of a cat toying with a mouse, in this case, four mice. He was enjoying the hell out of taking the long way around to an explanation.
