Fragile Spirits by Mary Lindsey
I groaned and dropped my head to my hands as she moved to get a closer look.
The guy placed a bandage over the wound, but all I felt was Vivienne looking at my back.
“God, Paul. What happened?” she whispered.
That, of course, prompted Alden, Lenzi, and Race to come view the freak show. I remained silent. What could I say?
Then she touched me, and it felt like fire. She ran her fingers over my skin in some kind of macabre connect-the-dots from one scar to another. I shut my soul from receiving any emotional transmissions at all. Something I was not allowed to do by IC rules, but at that moment, I wasn’t a Protector. I was a five-year-old boy being examined by strangers. I had shut out their emotions, but I couldn’t stop mine—or my shaking.
She laid her palm flat on my spine while the guy still worked. “Was it measles or chicken pox or something like that?”
The guy had finally finished and pulled off his gloves.
“Yeah, something like that,” I said, still trembling.
The guys in suits spoke with Charles, who was nodding but still watching me. Ms. Mueller was strapped down on the gurney, and the medical team seemed packed and ready to go.
Alden, Lenzi, Race, and Vivienne said nothing, but I could feel them behind me, staring. Emotional block still in place, I replayed the memories from outside Vivienne’s house last night.
“We’ll take care of the Protector,” Charles said. “The teacher needs to be transported to a real hospital. The principal understands that the official story is that she somehow lost her balance while holding scissors and fell, impaling her hand and hitting her face on the corner of a desk and whatnot. He is aware of our presence and will stick to that story to keep it under cover. He will contact her family.”
The men in the room spoke in quiet voices as they wrapped up. “You’re good to go,” the guy who bandaged me said, helping me to my feet. I didn’t turn around to see the others. I knew I wouldn’t be able to bear the looks on their faces.
Charles slid off his suit jacket as he walked over to stand in front of me. “Let’s go home,” he said. “Race will stitch you up there.”
I nodded.
Charles helped me into his jacket, and I almost sighed with relief. It was like a suit of armor protecting me from the arrows of pity. Pity was stifling. It kept people distant. I’d learned that when people felt sorry for you, it was impossible for them to divorce that feeling from any other emotion, like respect . . . or love. And unlike respect or love, once in place, pity was permanent.
I pulled the jacket closed and, without looking back, walked out the door.
SEVENTEEN
Hey, wait up,” Vivienne called, running down the hallway after me. I couldn’t even bring myself to slow down. What I wanted to do was take off running.
She caught up as I reached the front doors. “Stop. Just for a second,” she said. “Please.”
I stopped and waited. Not turning because I dreaded seeing that look—the one people wore when they knew. And I’d made certain that very few knew. I supposed I should have expected this to happen; I just hadn’t thought that far ahead with regard to this.
“Can I ride with you? Alden and Lenzi are going by her house for something, I don’t want to be stuck with the old man, and I’d much rather be with you than Race.” She put her hand on my chest, over my heart. “I’d rather be with you than anyone.”
I closed my eyes and hesitantly lowered my emotion block just enough to get a reading off of her. No pity. None at all. Concern . . . and something else. Something different and intense. The same thing I felt from her outside her house, but it was different. Richer.
I pulled her against me in a hug, and after a moment, she wrapped her arms around my waist. I held my breath as she ran her hands up my back over the jacket. I remembered her touch on my bare skin and shuddered, partly from fear and partly from something stronger than the mortification of her discovering my private past. I had come to like this girl and trust her—probably more than I should.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, head against my shoulder.
She smelled so good. I took a deep inhale. “Yeah. I am now.”
We were silent on the way to the mansion, except for an occasional comment about the possession. Vivienne tactfully avoided any mention of what had come after.
I pulled into the garage and killed the motor. My shoulder blade ached, and so did my head. Vivienne grabbed my arm as I unbuckled.
“Thanks for standing up for me,” she said.
I held my breath as she leaned across the console until her face was inches from mine. I knew the wise thing to do would be to stop her, but being wise didn’t seem possible when she was this near. She stared into my eyes for a moment before our lips met. And then I was lost. Hopelessly lost in this amazing girl who was smart and brave and kissed like she was on fire.
She pulled away. “Wow,” she said.
“Yeah, wow.” I ran a hand through my hair and shook my head to clear it.
She laughed and got out of the car, leaving me alone with my pounding heart and scattered thoughts. Soon, I mustered enough strength to follow her into the house, where Race was waiting for me in a modified clinic he and Cinda had created in the kitchen. Vivienne was leaning against the refrigerator.
“Hop up on the operating table, Junior, and let’s get this done,” Race said. “My lovely assistant, Cinda, will act as nurse.” Cinda blushed and stared at the floor.
“No.” I caught myself and chose my next words carefully. “I mean, okay, but I’d like it to be just you and me. I don’t want an audience while I’m being stitched up.”
Race’s eyebrows shot up. “You scared you’ll blubber like a baby?”
“Yeah. That’s it. You got me, Race.”
He shrugged. “Okay. You heard the man. Clear out, ladies.”
Vivienne shot me a puzzled look as she left, but no strong emotions transmitted from her.
“I was going to let your hot little Speaker distract you, Junior. You missed a great opportunity there.”
I slid Charles’s jacket off and laid it over a stool. “Hopefully, it won’t be my last opportunity to be distracted by her. I just prefer it not be in front of an audience.”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” He chuckled and put on a pair of surgical gloves while I pulled off my shirt. He was going to see my entire back up close under bright lighting, so wearing the blood-soaked, ripped-up shirt made no sense. I wadded it up and dropped it into the trash can.
He paused in putting on the second glove and stared at my chest. I braced myself for the worst. Instead, he turned his attention back to his preparation.
“You can either lie down on the island counter or sit on a stool for this.” He picked up a syringe, and I slid onto a stool. I folded my arms on the counter and laid my head down, feeling no fear over the stitches at all. Still, my stomach churned at my exposure.
I closed my eyes and waited through several sharp stings, each one less intense than the one before. Race pulled a stool around to the other side of the bar and sat down to wait until the anesthesia took effect. “You want a Coke or something?” he asked.
“No. I’m good.”
He pulled off the gloves, then went to the fridge and grabbed a grape soda, Charles’s favorite. “I always wondered why you wore shirts when we swam laps at the academy.” He popped the top on the soda. “You also ran sprints in a shirt and showered at odd times when nobody was around.” He took a swig of soda. “Now I know why.”
I closed my eyes. “Now you know.”
He said nothing for a long time. “I thought you had a hang-up or something.”
“I do.”
“Is it just your chest and back?”
I opened my eyes and met his. “Yes.”
He nodded and looked at h
I heard the kitchen door open, and my whole body tensed. “Whoa, Junior. It’s just Charles,” Race said, patting my elbow. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“How’s it going in here?”
“The anesthesia has another minute or so before I test it,” Race said, finishing off his soda.
Charles nodded and pulled a grape soda from the refrigerator. “How are you holding up, Paul?”
“Fine, sir,” I answered. Race got up and moved the tray of medical supplies. Charles retrieved a glass from a cabinet and sat on the stool Race had just vacated.
“Do you have any questions or concerns, Paul?” His question surprised me. He used to ask that at the end of every day when he was training me. I hadn’t heard it in a while.
“Yes, sir.” It was the first time I’d ever answered affirmatively.
He popped the top on his soda and poured it into the glass. “I thought you might.”
“Do you feel that?” Race asked. I knew he was testing with a needle to see if I was numb from the anesthesia.
“No. Go ahead.”
Charles took a sip of his soda as he waited for me to return my attention to him.
“Vivienne told me something in confidence, sir. Perhaps this conversation should wait.” I looked over my shoulder at Race, who appeared completely focused on his task.
“Nonsense. Horace is sworn to secrecy. He knows a multitude of confidential things. I trust him.” Charles put his glass down and emptied the rest of the soda into it.
Race said nothing, but continued sewing, causing strange, painless, tugging sensations where he worked.
If Charles trusted him, then so should I. “Vivienne said her father was a Protector. She said he abandoned her mother.”
Charles turned his glass a half turn, then met my eyes. “Why does this trouble you?”
“Because it troubles her. She blames the IC for it. It ripped her mother up. She plans to find him and engage in some kind of confrontation.”
“That sounds like her personal business and not that of the IC, which means you, as a Protector, must honor her privacy.”
“It affects her ability to perform as a Speaker.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “The magic words—‘it affects her ability to perform as a Speaker.’”
“Done,” Race said. I could hear him snipping off the ends of the stitches.
Charles took a swallow of soda. “Vivienne’s father did not abandon her. He was killed the day before his wedding. It was a controversial resolution, and the IC had to cover it up. For practical purposes, he just disappeared. We didn’t tell anyone, including his fiancée, that he had died.” He picked up his glass to take a sip.
“You should have. You were wrong.”
He froze before the glass reached his lips. He put it back down on the counter and paused before answering. “In retrospect, you’re right. We had no idea she was pregnant. I didn’t know about Vivienne until her aunt told me about her existence and her extraordinary abilities. I made arrangements for her the minute I found out.”
“And what if she hadn’t had abilities?” I regretted asking it the second it came out of my mouth. I had let my anger get the best of me.
“If she hadn’t had abilities, she’d be living a life of extreme poverty in New Orleans with her grandmother, none the wiser. Like you, her talents have given her the opportunity for a better life than she would have had otherwise.” He leaned forward. “What we do is bigger than any one individual. Sometimes sacrifices are made. Her mother’s situation was unfortunate.” His pointed look told me that not only had I gone too far, but that the conversation was over. His eyes strayed from my face to my chest, and his look softened. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He stood and left the room.
For a long while, I played Charles’s words over in my head while Race silently packed up the medical supplies.
When I looked over at him, he shook his head and gave a low whistle. “Dude. You like walking on a razor’s edge, huh? No wonder they paired you up with the wild girl. Both of you are danger junkies.”
I stood. “That’s ridiculous. I was never in any danger.”
He snapped his kit shut. “I wouldn’t dare challenge Charles. I’d be struck by lightning or something.”
“I didn’t challenge Charles. I questioned the IC.”
“Same thing. Be careful, Junior.”
Someone knocked on the door. I still didn’t have on a shirt. “Don’t,” I said, not intending to sound as panicked as it came out.
Race nodded. “We’re almost done,” he called toward the door. “What’s up?”
“You need to get out here, Race,” Lenzi called from the other side. “We have a surprise for you.”
“We’ll be out in a sec,” he called. He scanned me, pausing on my chest. “You need a shirt, don’t you?”
I nodded.
He cracked the door. “Hey, Cinda!” He continued to peek out the door for a moment. “Hi, sugar. Could you please go grab a shirt out of Paul’s room and bring it back here?” She didn’t say anything, but he stuck his head farther out and made a mmmm sound in his throat. Surely, they weren’t kissing. Yep, they were, I discovered when he pulled his head back in with a self-satisfied smirk and lipstick smeared across his mouth.
I threw him a towel. “You look like a drag queen.”
He laughed and wiped the lipstick off. “She’s pretty fine, huh?”
“You say that about every girl you meet.” I stood and stretched my sore shoulder.
“Yeah, but she’s different.” He took a few steps closer. “Can you keep a secret?”
“No.”
“Sure you can. Beatrice has severed our official bond at Charles’s request, and he’s assigned Cinda as my new Speaker. She’ll be given a soul brand tomorrow or the next day that matches mine!”
My head reeled. She barely transmitted emotion, which meant she didn’t hear the Hindered completely yet. “She’s not ready.”
“For what?” He wagged his eyebrows, and I stifled a groan.
“To be a Speaker. Her powers aren’t fully in place yet, are they?”
“No. Charles wants her to just hang out with me and learn the ropes until they are. He thinks we’re a good pair. He wants her to get used to me and the job and then he’ll put her in the field when she’s ready.”
I sat back on the stool. “Well, you do take some getting used to.”
A gentle knock came from the door, and Race opened it, returning to me with a black T-shirt from a concert I’d gone to last year. I slipped it on over my head and looked down. The pleated, navy blue school uniform pants with the black 30 Seconds to Mars T-shirt looked ridiculous.
Race gave me a thumbs-up. “You’re stylin’, man.”
I rolled my eyes and followed him out the door, fully intending to dash up the stairs and throw on some blue jeans before anyone saw me like this, but squealing and laughter broke out in the media room before I made it to the stairs. My curiosity got the best of me, and I peeked into the room. Race was in a bear hug, being showered with kisses by a girl with short blond hair and a powerful build, decked out in western wear. Cinda looked as pale as a ghost in the corner.
Race finally broke free long enough to catch his breath. “Hey, Maddi! Glad to see you too. How was Venice?”
“It was great,” she said. “Helena and I resolved a zillion Hindered, and I can say some words in Italian now. Wanna hear?”
He noticed Cinda in the corner and gave her a smile. “Not now, Maddi. I want to introduce you to my new Speaker . . . well, she will be tomorrow or the next day.” He gestured for Cinda to join him, and she blushed as she crossed the room. “This is Cinda. Cinda, this is Maddi, one of my very best friends.”
The expression on Maddi’s
Maddi held out her hand. “Hi, Cinda. Great to meet you. It’s about time he had a real Speaker. I’m getting kind of sick of babysitting him, you know.” Maddi was a Protector, obviously, since she had been involved in resolutions, but I felt no emotions coming off of her. Her eyes gave her away, though. She was shaken by this news. “Yeah. Race and I hang . . . hung out together every cycle until my Speaker showed up, since his old one had ditched him and he didn’t have anything better to do.” She shrugged in a jerky, awkward movement. “I guess he has something better to do now.”
Lenzi bit her lip, and Alden studied the carpet. Everyone was uncomfortable except Race, who seemed totally relaxed. He put his hands on either side of Maddi’s face. “We knew this would happen. We talked about it, right?” She nodded. “I am always happy for you when your Speaker emerges. I need the same from you.”
“I am,” she said. “I just wish you had called me and told me privately or something instead of this.”
“I only just now found out myself. Be happy with me.” He put his arm around Cinda. “Please, Maddi.”
“So, I guess this means they’ll be pulling you off of Smith’s case?” Maddi asked. “A new Speaker wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Vivienne’s anger pulsed into me. Her eyes were glued to Maddi. “Why couldn’t a new Speaker do it?” she asked.
I stepped into the room a few feet.
“Well, come on. Smith has been around forever. He’s killed Rose over and over.” She gestured to Lenzi. “And if she can’t off him, a beginner sure can’t.”
“Rose,” Vivienne said under her breath. My hackles stood up when her emotions rolled through me. So many conflicting feelings, the dominant one was sorrow, followed by anger. She stared at Lenzi. “You’re Rose?”
Lenzi took a step back and nodded once. “That was my name in past cycles. I prefer Lenzi.”
“You’re the one Smith was looking for when he killed my aunt.” Vivienne’s eyes met mine. “You knew. You knew she was Rose when I told you why I accepted this job in the first place, and you didn’t tell me.”