The Rogue Wolf Page 4

  She got off and then paused in front of the building for a moment. She hated places like this. They brought back too many memories. Its counterpart was like her second dorm at the facility.

  She walked inside and, as expected, the air was both stale and dry. No one stopped her or questioned her. She was here so often that she didn’t even have to check in. She could probably draw a map for the entire hospital without really thinking about it. Certainly, she could find the intensive care ward with her eyes closed. From there, she could probably find Michael’s room in her sleep.

  She entered. Michael lay in bed unmoving, not saying a word, comatose. Part of her always hoped his bright smiling face would greet her when she opened the door or that she’d finally open her eyes and learn that the past year had been nothing but a bad dream or a cruel practical joke. But she looked at him and knew he was just a step up from dead. The doctor told her, when he was first admitted, that talking to him might improve his condition; that he could be aware of her presence even in his state. She didn’t know if that was the case for other coma victims, but for Michael, they were hollow words. The impression he gave her was just as much a shell as all those Constructs she fought when she was younger. She had no doubt he was alive. The medical monitoring systems and her own senses could easily tell that. There was hardly anything else, though.

  “Hello,” she greeted as pleasantly as she could.

  There was no response in any manner. All things considered, she wondered why she went through the motions. She was painfully aware that they meant nothing to him.

  She walked over and kissed him on the forehead. A few loose strands of hair fell on his face. She apologized and changed the flowers out of the vase. After that, she took a chair and sat down next to him.

  Carmen took a deep breath. She was happy his parents weren’t here. She wanted some time alone with him. She’d be the first to say that they had warmed to her over time. Sure, they were wary as most people were, but at least they didn’t cling to the ceiling every time she coughed. She remembered the look on their faces when she and Michael revealed that they were going to live together. It seemed like such a long time ago.

  Stackett Syndrome, as was the case with Michael, could be swift in its onset. The post-natal genetic messaging update to generation three, which she had received not too long after she was born, didn’t take as well for everybody. It was exceedingly rare and at times seemingly random, but a select few suffered a complete breakdown of major organs, as well as immune system failure and a host of other ailments that basically amounted to the body rejecting the outside genetic tempering. She guessed progress of all kinds wasn’t without a bit of sacrifice.

  The bigger issue, though, was that treatment was expensive and the cure exorbitantly so. If he wasn’t sick, it would have been cheaper to shoot him, let him go cold for an hour, and then revive him. She was living barely above subsistence, and his parents were only doing a little better, just to keep him going.

  She took another deep breath. Then she leaned forward to rest her arms on the bed rail. “I had quite a day,” she said. “I got thrown out of another gym. It was a little ratty there, so I guess I don’t mind.”

  She paused for a few seconds before she continued. The gym, in reality, wasn’t all that bad. Not perfect, but not bad either. Carmen rested her head on her arms and closed her eyes. She thought about her trips on the bus and figured she’d stay here a little longer than normal. It was comforting. At least everything was still here. No one stared at her. No one fought to get away from her.

  “I was pretty stupid at work, though. We had a long line, and everybody was moving real slow. So, I just took their orders and telekinetically lifted their cards. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the manager madder. But he was too scared of me to really say anything.” She paused again. “Everything will be okay,” she said, trying her best to sound hopeful. “Everything will be fine.” She was only able to mutter the last part a bit above a whisper.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. There was no response, no murmur, nothing. There was just the beeps and hums of the medical equipment that was keeping him alive. She once again wondered why she went through the motions. She sensed nothing from him, just a numbness that filled the room, chilling everything about her.

  “I, I—” she started, but there was someone at the door.

  She turned to face it just as it started to open. Carmen knew who the person was and her name, Elaine. She wasn’t happy to see her, though. She was a nice person, for as much as Carmen ever cared to read, but she wasn’t the giver of good news.

  “Ms. Grey, can I speak to you for a moment?”

  “Yes,” Carmen said. She turned to Michael. “I’ll be right back,” she said softly.

  Elaine led her into the hallway and closed the door to the room. “About the bill… The account is now a month overdue and will soon be two months. We’d like to know when we can expect payment.”

  “I don’t know. I lost one of my jobs. I don’t really have anything to give.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” Elaine said. Carmen licked her lips nervously. The woman took a subconscious step back. “We’ve been as flexible as we possibly can, but with the war, we need all the space we can get. We’ve reviewed all delinquent accounts for—”

  “So, you’re basically saying that, if I don’t pay you, you’ll kick him out?”

  Elaine retreated a step farther. Carmen noticed and felt her entire body wilt. She had attempted to ask the question with as polite a tone as she could muster. If she offered it with a bowl of sugar, people would probably still cower.

  “Unfortunately, yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

  “That would kill him.”

  “I know,” Elaine said. “I’m sorry. I don’t enjoy this, but you and his family can barely afford to keep him here, let alone what it would cost to fully treat him. The reality of the situation is that it’s time to let go. You all suffer in living this disjointedly.”

  There was visible worry on Elaine’s face. Carmen noticed the entire hall was clear of people. She couldn’t remember that ever being the case. The poor soul in front of her was sent to face down the Clairvoyant, and not even the janitors had the courage to be on the same floor. What power I wield, she thought dejectedly.

  “You aren’t angry, are you?” Elaine eventually asked after swallowing hard.

  Carmen didn’t answer right away. Her Dark, her emotions, and her thoughts were all essential ingredients, but none was more important than the other. She’d received endless lessons on that. Anger, though? Janus and even Kali had never much mentioned it, or what to do with it specifically.

  “I’m feeling a lot of things,” she said. “I guess anger too. But that doesn’t help me. I can fly, read your mind, snap your neck where you stand, or burn this building to the ground with a thought—”

  “Ms. Grey, please!” Elaine said with a start, holding her hands up in a vain attempt to defend herself.

  Carmen saw her reaction to the simple truth both of them had pretended, until now, didn’t exist. She took a deep breath and her eyes fell before she spoke again.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you with what I said,” she spoke softly. “My point is, it doesn’t matter if I’m angry. For all those things I can do, right here and right now, you’re more powerful than me.” She was quiet for a few seconds. Elaine just stared at her. “I’ll try harder.” She then walked back into the room and closed the door.

  3

  How to Play

  Carmen’s eyes narrowed. She knew what was coming.

  “I’m so angry.”

  She considered her charge’s words and could only shake her head. “So, why are you angry, Phaethon?” she asked. “This time, anyway,” she added.

  Phaethon noted his handler’s tone and winced. It didn’t occur all too often, but he made that reaction from time to time. She was always at a loss as to why. She never thought she came across as a cold, overb
earing tyrant like Janus had with her, nor did she think she possessed Kali’s quiet intimidation or even her calm persuasiveness. But somehow she affected Phaethon just as strongly as they had affected her.

  How she came to be his handler was a special case, mainly because he was a difficult one. He’d only been her charge for a few months—her first and only. She wasn’t all too keen on being a handler. The idea of it left a bad taste in her mouth. She had never liked the facility nor had any real interest in coming back, let alone helping it. However, the money was good, and that was always in short supply. Her conversation with Elaine from a couple days ago still echoed in her head. She’d need every credit she could scrounge up now more than ever. She only had to the end of the month to pay the hospital bill.

  She tried not to think about it too much. For the here and now, her focus was on her charge, but she and Phaethon were just so unalike. It was like they’d been deliberately selected to be together because they were opposites. It also didn’t help that they were relatively close in age. Kali and even Janus, to a lesser extent, had seemed so wise, so knowing. But what more did she know than someone four years her junior? She hadn’t named him. She hadn’t collected him from his birth family. In fact, he killed the handler who’d done those things, which was a bit disconcerting, since he and Carmen didn’t get along like she had with Kali. At best, they were still feeling each other out.

  Phaethon’s moment of weakness was brief. After, he stared her in the eye, his gaze fiery and fierce. It seemed like he would spontaneously combust at any second. Yet it was not like Artemis all those years ago. She was raw, extremely raw, but it was focused aggression. Phaethon’s blaze was not as coherent. Carmen was unfazed, though. She simply leaned back and calmly rested her head on an open palm.

  “Well?” she asked.

  He said nothing, as she expected. If nothing else, being a handler was definitely a test in patience. This time, she was able to keep herself to just a sigh before turning back to the game. It was chess. Kali had suggested it. Carmen never really played it before. Calling her a novice would be charitable. Phaethon was worse, and most of the time he didn’t even want to play. More games than not ended with the board and pieces thrown on the ground.

  It was her turn. She picked up a piece, considered it for a moment, and then carefully placed it back on the board. Phaethon looked at her. His brown hair was a mess. He never really cared about tending it. His soft, almost babylike features, offered an odd contrast to his muscled, athletic body. He shifted slightly in his chair. That was nothing new or unusual. She considered it a foregone conclusion that he was incapable of being truly at rest. A thought or two definitely raged madly in his head. She didn’t know what they were, as he was too strong to read, but it was obvious his neurons were lighting off in rapid fire. It even looked like he was going to say something, but in the end they were words she’d never hear, since he turned his attention to the game and ignored her for a moment. His hand hovered over the board, tentative and uncertain.

  Carmen’s eyes wandered while he took his time. As usual, they sat outside. Most of the assets, and she herself, preferred it after spending years trapped underground. The grounds and facility had been updated and expanded since her attendance. The courtyard was larger to allow the assets more space in their attempts to socialize. There was also now a library, among other new buildings. The protective concrete wall topped by barbed wire still ringed the facility. She swore its height had been raised.

  The barrier was still no such thing to her and all the Clairvoyants here. There were no attempts to breach it, that she personally witnessed, from the outside. Even so, that loathsome wall did limit one thing: any view beyond it. Inside the grounds, assets mingled self-consciously and handlers managed them, but that was it. There was just this place. That was almost all there was to see and interact with. She had no care for it. It wasn’t much help either that it was almost an outright war to get Phaethon to go to the bluff or the field trips she and Kali used to go on. The only true vista that could be seen was the nearby Haven City. Its cold skyscrapers were just as intimating now as when Carmen saw them all those years ago. Their perpetual shadow menaced the courtyard even on the best days.

  Carmen looked at the city in the distance and then turned back to Phaethon. His hand still hovered over the board. He was biting his lip. She’d been told that he was one of the fiercest Clairvoyants to have ever been brought here. She’d never questioned that. But looking at him now?

  “So?” she asked, trying to get him to finally make his move. They could be sitting here for the next half hour if she didn’t give some sort of prompting. She’d put a timer on their games more than once just for that purpose.

  “I just am. I don’t know why,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Phaethon looked at her strangely. “Being angry.”

  “Oh,” she muttered. She’d forgotten about that conversation.

  She looked at him and considered what she’d say in response, but his attention was fixed on the chessboard and what move he’d make. It could wait. He moved a rook one hesitant square forward. His hand remained on the piece while he made sure it was free from danger. He removed his hand a few seconds later and sat back. Carmen gave a thoughtful nod. Phaethon was always so eager to rush into things that it was nice to see him at least try to think his play out. But after the nod, she used a pawn to capture the piece. Phaethon frowned.

  “Damn it!” he yelled.

  Stupid, Carmen thought as she braced herself for the explosion. She didn’t need to take the piece. In fact, she wished she hadn’t taken the piece. It was no real secret that a major reason she’d been selected to be his handler was because she had some hope of defending herself. She wasn’t afraid of him. His rage never truly turned against her, but it was prudent to be prepared.

  This time, his ire was directed at the chessboard. He stood up, and a quick swipe sent it to the ground. Then he glared at her and took a step forward, fist balled. She stared back, her expression casually thoughtful. Phaethon sat back down after a few tense seconds. He then slouched in a huff with his head resting on his hands. Carmen had been in this situation enough times by now to know it was safe to proceed. She telekinetically gathered the pieces and reset the board and then waved for him to take his turn.

  “Why do we have to play this stupid game anyway?” he asked as he half-heartedly moved a pawn forward.

  Carmen studied the strategic situation before she spoke. “In all honesty, I don’t really know,” she said, moving her own pawn forward. It could have been brilliant or clumsy—she couldn’t really tell either way. It was simply the best move she could make that she was aware of. “My old handler suggested it,” she continued.

  Phaethon groaned, and Carmen tried her best to hide a wince. Stupid, she thought again. Kali and her advice were a constant source of discussion and contention. Phaethon was tired of hearing it. Carmen, unfortunately, had no other real source to draw upon. Her charge had referred to her as “the messenger” more than once in a fit of frustration. Carmen didn’t think any of that was fair, though. She never reiterated Kali’s advice verbatim. No, she changed a word or two when she said exactly the same thing.

  He leaned back and ignored the game for a moment as he stared off into the sky. “And why did she suggest this stupid waste of time?” he asked dismissively.

  “She said it helps you to think,” Carmen replied.

  “We’re Clairvoyants. We don’t have to think.”

  She stared at him hard. Try as she might, she couldn’t piece together his reasoning. “Umm…”

  “You know what I meant,” he said, glancing at her. “My old handler said that, because of our Darks, we don’t need to consciously think. We just do.”

  “I don’t think it’s that simple,” she replied.

  Phaethon looked at her but said nothing. Slowly, his demeanor changed from dismissive indifference to, well…something else. If she did
n’t know better, he even seemed curious.

  “Really?” he eventually asked. “What do you think? Not Kali.”

  “Well…” Carmen muttered, not knowing where to start.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d wanted her unfiltered opinion. She, however, was always hesitant to give it. Her advice didn’t help her any. Her life, such as it was, could only be called a rousing success in a tragic comedy.

  “I like to think that our Dark is what gets us going—what gets us actually motivated. But we still need reason to decide what to do and how to do it.” Phaethon began to nod, yet the nodding was soon replaced by a growing frown. Carmen decided to change tact. “It’s kind of like this game,” she said. “You want to win…right?”

  Phaethon said nothing. Carmen stared at him hard and then rolled her eyes, which prompted the proper response. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said.

  “Right,” she said with a quick nod. “But just because you want to win and you take action to win doesn’t mean you know how to win. That has nothing to do with your Dark. You have to actually think and make choices. Your Dark can’t do that. Like, you may have a favorite flavor of ice cream, but you have to decide whether you eat it and even how to eat it.” She considered what she was going to say next, thought against it, and then figured why not? “Or like when you realized you were losing and decided to throw the board to the ground. It was stupid, but you were thinking,” she said, her tone light and teasing.

  Phaethon was quiet and serious while she spoke. Then, in an ever so rare event, he laughed lightly. “No, it wasn’t. You always beat me,” he said. Carmen shrugged. He turned back to the board, his hand hovering over it. “You sure Kali doesn’t think the same thing?” he asked, adopting a teasing air as well.

  Carmen didn’t notice it. “I don’t know,” she said.

  Phaethon nodded. “Hmm.” He placed his hand on a piece and hesitantly moved it forward. He leaned back after a sigh. “I wish I knew what to do.”