The Talented (7 page)

Alarmed, she shouted, “Airport? What! That’s it, get me out of this cab. Right now! You are some crazy person, I knew it! Too cute to be for real. Cabbie! Stop this cab and let me out!”

My stomach tightened at the “C” word. Crazy. Not a thing you want to call someone who spent almost half his life in an institution.

My words reverberated with a deep buzzing resonance that vibrated the steel frame of the taxi. “Driver, ignore her.” I turned to her and said, “Alicia Usher, I can promise you two things. One is that I’m trying to help you and have already, in fact, helped you. Notice your desperate thirst? That’s all that’s left of your drug addiction. You are now addicted to nothing more than fresh water. Can you feel it? Can you?”

Alicia looked down for a few moments, “Yes, but how? You can do that with hypnosis?”

“Uh, well, sort of more than hypnosis.”

Fear flashed in her eyes, mixed with hope. “Is it…you know… permanent?”

I responded, “It should be. You will always have an unnaturally strong thirst but you will never want to do drugs again.”

We sat in silence for a while, and when I looked back at Alicia, I was surprised to see tears streaming down Alicia’s face.

Barely audible, she whispered, “Thank you.” Then she looked at me, “You said you promise two things. What is the second promise?

Meeting her eyes, but not smiling, I replied, “I promise you…that I’m not crazy.”

She did not look convinced.

As we pulled up to the entrance to the airport, I quickly went over the situation. “Okay, My friend Kate is meeting us here with three tickets to Chicago. We have some things to take care of out there. As soon as we get back, I will take you to see your father again.”

“Just great,” Alicia replied flatly, “So what do I do in Chicago while you and your friend handle your business?”

Shrugging, I smiled, “Rest, clean up. Go shopping, buy some new clothes.”

She froze, “I’m not a hooker. You know that, right? I’m not a prostitute and am not easy and can’t be bought with fancy new clothes. You need to understand that.”

“I get it,” I replied, “completely. It must be the hardest thing in the world for you to trust me, but that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do. Please.”

We got out of the cab and entered the airport. It was not very busy and it appeared that we would not have to wait in line at security. Suddenly Alicia froze and said, “Adam, wait, there’s a problem.”

I raised an eyebrow in response.

“I got no I.D.,” she said. “Don’t I need a driver’s license or something?”

Amusement played across my features as I replied, “What a coincidence. I also have no I.D. because my wallet is in your father’s office. Don’t worry, when we get to security, just follow my lead.”

Ahead of us, a tall, gorgeous redhead with sultry eyes and a fitted white linen dress regarded us with her hands on her hips. Kate looked us over and said, “Adam, I must say, you’re full of surprises. Miss Usher here plays an important part in all of our futures, but I never foresaw that you were the one to get her involved.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. Turning to Alicia, I explained, “Kate is a bit like me, only she sees the future. Or possible futures anyway.”

Rolling her eyes, Alicia muttered, “Yeah, right, whatever you say.” Looking Kate over, she asked, “Are you Adam’s girlfriend or something?”

Color rose to Kate’s cheeks and she looked at me for a moment, then replied, “Well, no, we never…”

Fighting hard to suppress a chuckle, I took my ticket from Kate and headed for the security line. The uniformed guard was checking the tickets against each traveler’s driver’s license. Ignoring the stares she was receiving from other people in line, Alicia nervously followed me so closely I could smell her cheap candy-scented perfume. With a bored grin I handed the guard my ticket, then held my forefinger and thumb toward him, as if holding an invisible card. All the while I projected the illusion of my driver’s license, and planted the suggestion in his mind that he had already reviewed it. Returning my ticket with little more than a cursory glance, he sent me on my way toward the metal detectors. There would be no more I.D. checks for me. Alicia handed the guard her ticket.

He looked it over, then turned to Alicia and said, “I need to see an I.D. please.” She froze, mouth gaping, but didn’t hold her hand up as I did. That would make it more difficult.

His eyes narrowing, the guard continued, “Ma’am, I need to see your identification now.” His hand reached for his radio, and I knew that Alicia was about to find herself interrogated. For her part, she looked like she could flee at any minute, which would only make things worse.

Closing my eyes, I swept into the guards mind and pulled him into a dreamlike state. In his dream I made the fantasy version of Alicia find her license and present it with an embarrassed smile. Opening one eye while maintaining the dream, I saw Alicia still standing before the guard, who now sat with his eyes glazed over and mouth open. With a thought I tried to make all the people around not notice what was happening, then focused on Alicia.

Her feet lifted ever so slightly off the ground as I imagined invisible hands lifting her and gently guiding her levitating body towards me. Once I set her down gently, Alicia looked at me with an expression of fear and said, “What are you?”

I have no answer to that question so I said nothing. At the first store I bought her a huge bottle of cold, delicious water.

CHAPTER SEVEN

We arrived at O’Hare International Airport in Chicago without incident. During the flight, Alicia slept and Kate typed away on her laptop, which left me with nothing to do but think. I had never used my powers so blatantly before, the way I did at the airport. Manipulating the mind of the guard so boldly, in front of other people no less, was exhilarating. That kind of complete power over someone else must be wrong in some way, but it felt so incredibly satisfying. At the casino I mostly read the thoughts of the dealers and made decisions based on what I discovered. This is something else entirely. I owned him, and it felt good. It felt like the old days at St. Jude’s. The trouble is that I had no right to own him. If he was truly my enemy and trying to kill me or something, then I could argue that it was justified, but he was just a guy. Doing a job. My stomach rolled at the thought of it.

What was I doing here anyway, with two very different women, both of whom I had just met? Alicia was my responsibility until I could safely hand her off to Deon Usher. I owed her that at the very least. I didn’t owe Kate anything…except for the fact that I gave her my word. I could change my mind. I really could.

Sensing something I turned to Alicia and she was looking at me. Her huge water bottle was almost empty.

“Hey,” she said softly.

I could not help but smile a bit. “Hi. Feeling better?”

“I haven’t felt like this in years. Yes, better. Much, much better. Thank you. Thank you for what you did for me. I don’t know how you did it, but I don’t miss it. Not even a little bit. This is the first time that I have been clean in two years, and it feels great.” She looked better too, younger, more refreshed.

My brow knitted slightly. “Hmm. You seem different. Your speech sounds…please don’t take this the wrong way…you sound more educated or something. Then again, I have a third grade education myself, so everyone sounds educated to me.”

She smiled and said, “Yeah, the person you met at 7-mile, that…that wasn’t the real me. I had almost forgotten that. Would you have guessed that I was an A student in school? Private school, too. I went to Wolverton Academy up north.”

“Impressive,” I said, “Isn’t that one of the best schools in the state?”

“Number two, I think. It was tough to keep my grades up, but my dad tolerated nothing less. He expected so much of me, all the time, and I was so afraid of disappointing him. He was the same way with my mom, too. He would come home and go off on her about the dirty dishes and unmade beds. He must have suspected that she was using. One day I came home from school to find the house completely spotless. The oak floors shined and the dining room table was so polished that I could almost see my reflection in it. Every room in the house was like that. Even the silver was polished. In the center of the dining room table stood a gleaming silver candelabra burning two slender candles. On one candle was my mother’s solitaire engagement ring. On the other was her wedding band. At the base of the candelabra stood an index card folded like a sign. In my mother’s writing it read, ‘Goodbye, Deon.’ She never stepped foot in that house ever again.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I said, “Divorce sucks.”

“Oh, they didn’t get divorced,” she corrected, “Mom just left him. As far as I know they are still married. Officially, at least. Anyhow, after my mom left I got depressed and my grades started to slip. When my report card came home my dad just sat at that same dining room table staring at it. He didn’t say anything at first, but there was a vein on his forehead that only pops out when he is angry, and it stood out like a tree root. I couldn’t take it so I actually started shouting at him. We got in a huge fight. Huge. At the end of it I screamed at him that it was because he drove my mother away and he slapped me so hard it knocked me down. I couldn’t move I was so shocked. Then I heard him apologizing over and over and trying to help me up, and I slapped his hand away. That night I ran away to live with my mother. It felt so, I don’t know, freeing, like I could do anything and nobody would care. Turns out that was more right than I even knew.”

Trying not to think of my mother who abandoned me at birth, leaving me to the mercy of her unstable, anorexic older sister, I continued to listen. From across the aisle, Kate had looked up from her laptop as well.

“She had a lot of parties at the apartment, brought home a lot of boyfriends. I learned a lot of bad habits from them, and things just spun out of control. Mama tried to get involved when things got really bad…when I started stealing money from her purse, leaving for weeks at a time, that sort of thing, but by then it was too late. That was three years ago.” Her face took on a weary, distant expression. “Don’t ask me about life after that.”

Pointing at my almost full bottle of water, she added, “You going to drink that?”

Handing it over to her, I replied, “Help yourself.”

After landing in Chicago, Kate led us outside where a shiny white Bentley limousine was waiting for us. Never having ridden in a limo of any kind, a small thrill ran through me, wondering what the interior would look like. It was not at all what I expected. The rich, supple leather seats clashed with the multiple 3D displays built into the barrier behind the front seats, both of which were streaming incomprehensible financial data that seemed to float by a foot in front of my face. Alicia seemed less intimidated than I was, so I played it cool.

The ride to Stuart’s house in one of Chicago’s affluent north shore suburbs was quiet and smooth, and didn’t take long. The perimeter of the estate was encircled by a three-foot flagstone wall, over which the sprawling Georgian manor was visible. The limo driver’s thoughts were all out in the open, and it was from him that I plucked the various details about the house. Too bad I had no idea what made a house a Georgian manor. Big must have something to do with it. The scale of the place was breathtaking:four stories tall and at least 100 yards wide. The copper roof was old enough to have developed a jade green patina, and in places the red brick walls were crawling with ivy. According to the driver, it was built about 100 years ago by a Chicago industrialist. As my interest waned, his excitement flamed up and took on a life of its own. He must be really into that house. I left him to his thoughts.

When the limo pulled into the circle drive, a wide, beefy man with thinning blond hair and a ruddy tan approached, wearing a fine Italian suit that did not match his otherwise rugged appearance. A shoulder holster was plainly visible. He approached me first with a serious, focused look in his eyes. A sweep of his mind revealed that his name was Laric, and he was one of several full-time security guards. He frisked me first, found nothing, of course, then moved on to Alicia. Kate apparently was trusted enough not to frisk. She turned to Laric and asked, “Laric, would you please have Miranda take Alicia here downtown to freshen up at a spa, then do some shopping? Please put it all on my account.” Laric grunted in the affirmative and hit a speed dial on his mobile. In less than a minute a busy-looking fashionista in her 20’s swept by and took Alicia by the arm, ranting about all the places they would go.

Laric led us through the front door into a foyer with twenty-foot ceilings awash with sunlight. Twin staircases circled up to a loft area on the second floor. To get a better sense of the place, I began to expand my mind through the building, but barely got started before Kate grabbed my arm lightly and whispered, “I wouldn’t do that. He’ll know, and…”

“Katherine! So glad that you have returned safely.”

The man who spoke stood at the top of the stairs in a blue silk Armani suit, minus the tie, with the sleeves rolled slightly. Nice look. His shoulder-length hair was so white and fine it looked like strands of translucent silk framing his face. He was one of those men whose physical fitness made him look younger than his years, save for the subtle crows feet beginning to show by his bright, intensely blue eyes. As he made his way down the stairs he gave us a big smile revealing very white teeth, but the smile never made it to the man’s eyes. His eyes were cold and reptilian.

Hugging Kate warmly, he then turned to me and the smile evaporated, his look now one of intense curiosity.

Employing my usual social grace I offered my hand awkwardly and said, ”Adam Sharpe.”

After a pause he returned my handshake with a surprisingly firm grip.

“Stuart Allen. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Sharpe. Welcome to my home.” After a brief pause, still gripping my hand, he continued, “Kate tells me you are something of a wild talent in the psionic arts. She believes that you’re here to help protect us from the murderer who has been targeting our partners and friends.” Taking a step toward me, close enough to smell a trace of wine on his breath, he continued smiling but spoke in a softer, more menacing voice.