Threader (4 page)

‘I want to know about my father,' the customer says. ‘He died last year and I want to know if he's happy.'

‘What was his name?' Karla asks.

‘Thomas.'

Karla cracks an eye open. ‘I'm gonna need a little more than that, honey.'

‘Willoward. Thomas Willoward.'

Snapping her eye shut, Karla sways in her chair. ‘Is there a Thomas Willoward here? Thomas, if you can hear me, I want you to lift the table.'

As a rule, I don't go around reading people. Most telepaths make a lot of noise when they read someone, but my TP is unusual in that it's silent. This means it's more than tempting to enter people's minds to see what they're thinking, but James instilled in me a strict discipline against it. However, I sometimes make an exception and Karla had been one, since I'd wanted to know if her job offer was genuine.

Inside her mind now, my TP recognises the flutter of Karla's memories and I'm distracted for a moment, almost missing my cue. Pursing my lips, I'm about to lift the table when a rustling noise comes from behind me. Startled, I spin around. The back room is washed with shadows, full of shelving crammed with products for the shop. Nothing more meets my ears and I put it down to a random rodent.

‘Thomas
Willowaaaaard
.' Karla sounds irritated. ‘Give us a sign, please?'

I can't lift much more than my own weight, so it takes quite a bit of concentration to lift the heavy antique cast iron table an inch off the ground. The customer gasps and jerks her hands out of Karla's. Anticipating the move, I drop the table and the candles tumble to the floor, flames extinguishing. Karla shakes her head.

‘I'm sorry, but by letting my hands go, you broke the connection.'

‘Can you get it back?' the woman asks.

Karla runs a hand across her eyes, sighs heavily. ‘I can try. But it will be difficult for me. I will have to double my fee.'

‘Double?' The woman's voice turns hard.

Attracted to the woman's change of tone, my TP whisks towards her. Before I can stop it, it flitters through her mind, investigating. I realise two things an instant before the front door of the Crystal Cave is kicked open. The customer is a TK herself, and she's also law enforcement.

Two uniformed police rush into the room and Karla's client pulls a very legit-looking enforcement badge from her purse. ‘Karla Maurene Devereaux, you are under arrest for charges of fraud and public mischief.' She gestures towards the back, where I've begun to retreat, thoughts on escape. ‘There's a teeker back there helping her pull it off.'

I'm out the back door and jumping down the fire escape, quick smart. My boots hit the ground heavy and pain spikes my shins. Then I'm splashing through dirty puddles as I sprint for the end of the alley, knowing it's my only chance of escape. Legs pumping, chest burning, my one thought is
I can't get caught
. I can't get that third strike. I'm halfway down the alley when hands emerge from a shadow and grab me. At first I struggle, thinking I've been busted. It takes me a moment before I recognise Leather Jacket from the store.

‘Don't go that way. They're waiting for you.' He tries to pull me over to where a fire escape hangs low. I jerk my hand out of his grasp and he snatches it back with a snarl. ‘Don't be an idiot.'

A light sweeps over us and the pounding of heavy shoes has me backing up against Leather Jacket. Four law enforcement officers appear, holding slim black shock-sticks that are aimed at us. Leather Jacket pushes me behind him and raises his hands as the officers shout at us.

‘I have identification,' Leather Jacket says.

‘Down on the ground!'

‘Hands behind your head, before I juice you up.'

‘I have identification,' Leather Jacket tries again.

‘Shut your mouth, rat-sucker! Face down now!'

Leather Jacket's eyes slide my way. ‘Did I just get called a rat-sucker?'

‘I'm sure it was meant nicely.' My hands are already in the air and I'm starting to make my way to my knees.

Leather Jacket lowers one hand. ‘I'm reaching for my ID now. I am not armed.'

Both officers shout for him to stop before firing. The shock-sticks click, then bolts of iridescent blue slam into Leather Jacket's chest. He stiffens and makes a kind of grunting noise. Shock-sticks only make you unconscious for a short period, but I've heard stories of the electric jolt killing people. Suddenly, I'm rigid with fear that we're going to die in this dirty alley, all for a lousy fifty credits.

Leather Jacket grabs my arm again. This time, it's an iron grip and I can't get free. I try to keep him upright, but he weighs a ton and I find myself being dragged back into the shadows with him, my balance failing. In all the fuss, I forgot to withdraw my talents and my TK reaches to help me. But my TP gets there first and spears Leather Jacket's mind before I can stop it. Panicked, both my talents zip through the organic network of his mind, going deeper than I've ever reached before. I try to stop, because I know it's wrong to enter a mind so deeply. It's wrong to see everything about someone, to read their fears and dreams. But denied exercise for so long, my talents ignore me, until they find something I've never seen before and it burns in the middle of his neural tissue like a mini-sun. Acting on some instinct I don't understand, my talents twist tight around it.

We both tumble to the ground, but instead of hitting the cold pavement, the shadows swallow us whole and then we're freefalling. I realise then that Leather Jacket is a slider and he's somehow dragging me into the shadows with him. A roaring fills my ears and an icy wind whips my body. Leather Jacket's body is limp, unconscious, and my face is buried in the crook of his neck, my legs wrapped around his waist. I don't know much about sliders, other than it has to do with quantum tunnelling through the outer layers of the shadow biosphere. Any research I've ever done about talents has always been about espers. What I
do
know is I'd rather be back in the alley than here in this hellhole.

We move at a terrifying speed and when I peek out from Leather Jacket's neck, I see a bright alien world of lightning streaking by. I try to scream at him to wake up, but my lungs are being squeezed too tight and I can't get my breath. My vision narrows and my limbs relax as we reach terminal velocity. Leather Jacket's body gives a jerk as my legs start to slip. His arms wrap around me like bands of steel, but I barely feel them past the freezing air and the pain in my head. His hold tightens and a blazing warmth beats through me like a blast of summer. But it's not quite enough and I slip into unconsciousness.

The first thing I hear is mechanical beeping. My eyes fly open and I find myself in some sort of hospital bed. My skin feels raw, my clothes are gone and I'm trussed up in a stiff hospital gown. A headache takes up a pounding tempo and when I lift my hands, I see they're both bandaged. The door to my room swishes open and a woman in a white coat breezes in.

‘You're awake,' she says. ‘Lovely. I'll let everyone know.'

I watch her warily, instantly on guard. ‘Where am I?' My voice is a painful rasp.

She gives me a professional smile and pours water into a glass from a pitcher beside the bed. ‘I'm a nurse and you're in a safe place.'

I take the glass from her, the bandages making me clumsy. Is this some sort of halfway house before I get sent to jail? Horror fights with my rational inner thoughts, which point out the rather nice surroundings, including a vase of flowers by the window. If I was in that kind of trouble, I doubt anyone would bother to check me into a hospital. Especially not after—

The memory of the tunnel of blazing light sweeps through me like a tremor and I spill water on myself.

‘Careful,' the nurse says. ‘Your body has suffered quite a shock. You've been unconscious most of the day.' She takes the glass from me and goes about checking the machines that are reading out my vitals from a medical bracelet strapped to my wrist. ‘I've just upped your pain relief, which should see you through the next six hours.'

‘What happened to my hands?' I try to flex my fingers and they feel stiff. ‘Why are they bandaged?'

‘They're healing very nicely,' she replies vaguely. ‘You don't need to worry about a thing. A doctor should be in to see you soon enough and will explain more.'

‘What happened to me? Why won't you tell me where I am?'

‘Someone will be in to see you shortly.' Her voice turns crisp. ‘Just try to relax.'

Then she's gone, the door sliding shut behind her. I swing my feet off the bed and my head gives a little spin. Taking a moment to steady myself, I wobble to the window and peer out.

Tall, clean buildings stare back at me opposite an expanse of green grass. Beyond, I spy quaint looking shops with colourful fronts and red tiled rooftops. A clear blue sky stretches out and it's all so perfect looking, I half suspect it's a huge high-vis screen. Trying the window, I find it's locked and panic builds inside of me.

There's a bathroom attached to the room and my clothes sit in a sealed bag on the toilet. I pull the hospital gown off, then tear the bag open. I manage to get into my jeans, but struggle with hooking the back of my bra, my wrapped hands not cooperating. A funny sensation prickles the back of my neck and I turn to see Leather Jacket leaning against the bathroom's doorframe, watching me. He's bigger than I remember and looks scruffy against the hospital white. His thick shoulders shift under his jacket as he folds his arms, looking at me like I'm insane. Tattoos peek out from his sleeves, shaded in strokes of charcoal black and ocean blue.

‘Going somewhere?' he asks.

My face flames the same moment my bra straps ping out of my hands. Scrambling to cover myself, I spin to give him my back.

‘Do you mind?' I glare at him over my shoulder, a thousand questions filling my mind. But I don't ask them. I tell myself it's not the right time, but really I think I'm just terrified of the answer.

‘Need some help?' He sounds like he's trying not to laugh.

I shrug, like I'm not worried. ‘Fine. Whatever.'

He gives a snort of amusement as he steps into the small bathroom. I tense when I feel the heat of his body behind me. His hands aren't exactly gentle as they grab the ends of my bra and snap them together. My face gets hotter and the whole situation makes me want to die of embarrassment.

‘That was quick.' I snatch up my top, quickly pulling it on.

‘I've had a lot of practice,' he deadpans. I take an uncertain step back, hip banging into the sink. With my top on, I feel my pride inching up a notch.

‘How long have I been here?' I ask.

He checks the read on a sleek black band around his wrist. ‘Almost eighteen hours.'

My mind races. Eighteen hours unconscious? What had happened to knock me out for that long? My skin prickles when he steps forward, crowding me. His face is impassive, but I get the impression he wants answers and he's used to getting them.

My boots sit on the floor behind him. I know all I've got to do is stuff my feet into them and I'll be one step closer to feeling normal. Leather Jacket follows my gaze and frowns, backing up.

‘You know you're not going anywhere, right?' He leans a shoulder against the doorframe again.

‘Where exactly
am
I?' I ask. ‘And how did I get here?'

He runs a hand over the close-cut side of his head and heavy silver rings glint in the bathroom light. ‘How about you tell me how you entered the slipstream with me. You're not a slider.' He shakes his head. ‘Only sliders survive it and even then it's dangerous. Deadly without training.'

‘I don't know what happened.' I go to push past him, not bothering to ask what a slipstream was. I didn't want to know, because I was never going there again. Leather Jacket lifts an arm, blocking my way.

My hands curl into fists. ‘Do you mind?'

He arches an eyebrow. ‘No.'

There's a swishing sound as the door to my room opens and brisk footsteps enter, followed by an annoyed sigh.

‘Blake Galloway. It looks like you're intimidating our guest. Perhaps you could give her some space.'

Leather Jacket/Blake rolls his eyes, but drops his arm. I squeeze by him to see a man beside the hospital bed, holding a bunch of flowers that look beyond my pay grade. His suit is crisp and his smile is broad, full of teeth that look too large for his mouth.

‘Hello, Josephine. My name is Allen Schmidt.' He gives Blake a suspicious look, then returns his attention to me. ‘Do you know where you are yet?'

‘It's Josie. My name is Josie,' I correct him, my eyes darting to the window again, as if it can provide me with a sudden clue I might have missed before. ‘And no. I don't know where I am. No one will tell me.'

‘You're a very long way from home,' Schmidt says. ‘In a medical centre in the town of Babel, Vermont. Do you know where that is?'

Excitement coils up my spine, hot and fast. I lick my dry lips. ‘Where the Helios Academy is based, right?'

Schmidt throws me a wink. ‘You got it in one there, Josie. In fact, Helios is just a short fifteen-minute drive away. I'm an attorney with the General Relations and Media Unit for the Helios Academy and I'm here to answer any questions you might have.' His eyes slide to Blake. ‘If you don't mind, I think some privacy with Josephine is required.'

‘Josie,' I correct him again.

‘Josie. Of course, forgive me.' Schmidt unclips a shiny flexi-slate control-handle from his wrist. Straightening it, he pulls out the screen and taps in a note. ‘And please, call me Allen.'

‘I'm out of here.' Blake strides past me and exits the room without a backwards glance. I watch the door slide shut and try to get a grip on the idea I'm near the hallowed halls of the Helios Academy itself.