Psychic Page 9

  “Thanks.”

  “Just telling it like it is.”

  “Are you going to have to kiss him again?’

  “Maybe.”

  Jason’s head stirred at this, but he didn’t manage to look up.

  “Do what you have to,” Sam said. He turned to look at her. “What did he see?”

  Samantha considered.

  “The light in hell is orange-pink. Like, maybe how you’d imagine dusk in a coal-powered industrial city in the middle of the industrial revolution. There’s no sun. There’s no night. Just, salmon-colored light and red rocks and iron. They smelt steel, and most of the other metals we use to build, but most of their buildings are made of red stone and black wrought iron. There’s no humidity and no rain, so nothing rusts, but parasitic, demonic bacteria will eat it, so it isn’t rusted so much as constantly corroding.

  “He wouldn’t have gone to Hellcity. He wouldn’t have come back if he had, so he wouldn’t have seen the buildings. Just miles and miles of red rock and red dust, and whatever scum demons he happened across. Maybe a soul hunter or two, but I don’t know he would have come back from that, either.”

  “He could have died?” Sam asked. Samantha controlled her eyes, looking at the top of Jason’s head in the mirrored elevator doors.

  “He could have died. Some people do.”

  Sam was angry, but up against her sense of resolution, he let himself consider it again.

  “This is the best way?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bring it on,” Jason said again. She smiled and picked up his other arm as the elevator doors opened. They helped Jason down the hallway and she knocked on the door. Carter opened it.

  “Abby said you were trying to knock him off. Sorry it didn’t work out.”

  “Move.”

  Carter stepped aside and Samantha jerked her head at the black leather couch on the long wall of the loft. Sam helped Jason sit.

  “Water,” Samantha said.

  “You get anything out of him yet?” Carter asked from the kitchen.

  “I got him back,” Samantha said. Carter sighed.

  “You’re going to be that soft on him?” he asked, handing her a glass. She knelt and put it in Jason’s hands. Once he realized what it was - he was drifting away even as he sat - he tipped it back and drank it in a series of gulps as it trickled down the sides of his face. She took the glass and held it out behind her. Carter waited for a second before he took it, making a point. She ignored him. She waited with her hands on his knees until Carter returned with the glass, and she handed it to him again.

  “Tell the waitress to leave the pitcher,” he said. She grinned as he tipped the second glass back and drained it. She handed it up to Sam.

  “You mind?”

  He took it and went to refill it. Jason was able to hold his head up now, and she looked at him.

  “You want to wrap this up now, or wait until morning?”

  “I dispossessed Sam with my brain,” Jason said. She laughed.

  “I was very impressed. You want to do this now or later?”

  He took a breath, dropping his eyes to most-of-the-way closed, then nodded.

  “Finish it.”

  She took the glass from Sam and looked back at him.

  “There will be strips of steak in a container in the fridge, and a package of tortillas. If there’s cheese, take that, too. Plates are next to the microwave.”

  Sam looked at her for a second. She rolled her eyes.

  “When you look, that’s all that’s going to be there. It’s what Carter keeps for exactly this. Red meat, milk fat, and grain. Heated, please.”

  He raised an eyebrow, but went back to the kitchen again. Samantha found her hand empty. Jason was holding an empty glass.

  “Food,” he said.

  “I know. Take your shirt off.”

  “Are you going to stab me again?”

  “If I have to. Take your shirt off.”

  He hooked his thumbs into the bottom of the tee shirt on either side and flipped it inside out over his head. Samantha helped him get it untangled from his arms. She traced her fingertips over his collarbone and he winced away.

  “Cold.”

  “Sorry. Deal with it.”

  She found the first resistance in the hollow under his collar bone, a fast growth that would start to calcify his shoulder once it matured. Ball-and-socket joints. Strangest fascination. She got a grip on it and broke the bulb off with a sharp jerk. Jason yelped and pulled away.

  “You’re going to need to lay down,” she said. The microwave beeped, and Jason nearly made it to his feet. She waited as Sam brought the plate over and Jason devoured the food.

  “Carter said to use two tortillas,” Sam said. The beef and cheese barely fit inside the burrito-sized flatbreads.

  “He’s not completely evil,” Samantha said. “You want to help?”

  “Yeah.”

  Samantha took the empty plate as Jason sucked on his fingers.

  “Lay him down.”

  “I can do it,” Jason said, pulling his feet up and flopping onto his side. Samantha pointed.

  “Start at his wrist. Work your way up to here,” she said, pointing to the spot where his neck and shoulder blade met. “Tell me if you find anything that feels like it shouldn’t be there.”

  She worked her way down the other arm, pulling and stripping and snapping off half a dozen parasites by the time she got to his wrist. Some of them, Jason hardly noticed. Others were like pulling open a hot wound. He screamed at the worst of them, and Sam had to hold him down for Samantha to tug the end out. Sam found a comparable number in Jason’s other arm, but Samantha had pulled a full dozen from his chest by the time Sam finished the arm, and Jason’s pain response was mostly a subconscious flopping. He panted, and Samantha took the glass of water Carter brought over with a tight smile.

  “Drink,” she said. Jason slurped and coughed as he swallowed more air than water in his haste to get it down.

  “Did he roll in it?” Carter asked.

  “I’ve pulled worse off of you,” Samantha said.

  “Have not.”

  “The k-weed you let go for three weeks, and then couldn’t reach because it rooted in your spine?” she asked.

  “But it was just the one,” Carter said.

  “But you let it root in your spine before you did anything about it,” she said.

  “Here,” Sam said, holding his thumb over a spot on Jason’s upper abdomen. Samantha felt for it and frowned.

  “Where did you find worms?” she asked, digging a thumb into either side of the skin to pop the head out and then, holding it in place with a finger, grabbing hold to pull the rest of the body out. “I thought they were extinct.”

  “No, they’ve got a plague of them going on, right now,” Carter said. “Symmetric. They’ll respawn in a couple of minutes if you don’t get the twin.”

  Samantha grunted, going after the other side of Jason’s stomach. She found the wriggle under his skin and popped it out, as well. If it weren’t for the fact that they were invisible and ceased to exist on her plane once they were no longer attached to a body, she would have had a pretty impressive pile of corpses piled up next to the couch.

  “Do they butterfly?” she asked.

  “Don’t think so,” Carter said.

  “How you holding up?” she asked, checking the polar-symmetric point on Jason’s thigh anyway. “They do butterfly.”

  “Huh.”

  “Bring it on,” Jason said. She pulled the third worm and went looking for the fourth. It was searching for a hiding spot, and she had to bend Jason’s knee to get at it on the back of his leg, but she caught it and pulled it.

  “Here,” Sam said. She nodded and moved to see what he had found.

  <><><>

  More than an hour later, Jason lay exhausted on the couch and Samantha was checking to make sure she hadn’t picked up anything, handling it. She had been careful with his hands, so she
shouldn’t have, but it was still worth checking. Killing them early was always the best thing to do. She checked Sam’s hands, then went and mixed Jason a strong anti-parasite drink and handed it to him. It was no gray dust, but he didn’t need anything stronger than this. She looked back at Sam.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  She took the glass back from Jason, then raised her eyebrows at him.

  “Take what’s offered,” she said.

  “Huh?”

  She took a breath and crossed, letting the warm light sink into her, then crossed back and leaned down and kissed Jason. Once. Deeply. Warmly.

  “Sleep well,” she said, running her thumb across his forehead. He was asleep by the time she stood. She turned to Sam. He motioned to her room and she nodded.

  “You aren’t leaving him there,” Carter said.

  “Goodnight, Carter,” she said. She closed the door to her room behind them and motioned for Sam to turn while she changed.

  “All my stuff is still downstairs,” he said. She pulled things out of a drawer, casting a look over her shoulder at him.

  “You mind sleeping in your jeans? I don’t really want to go back downstairs tonight.”

  “That’s fine,” he said. She found the silk pants she was looking for and went back in to another drawer after the matching top. It was somewhere. Sam was quiet for a minute.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get Mother,” he said.

  “Don’t really want to talk about her,” Samantha said. There it was. “Sam, are you nervous?”

  She felt him blush. She paused, looking at the proper, black silk pajamas she had picked out, then quickly changed into them. She walked back across the room and he turned.

  “Wow.”

  “Better than running pants and a men’s tee-shirt?” she asked. He grinned, putting his hands on her sides and running them over the slick cloth. She put her arms around his neck and they stood, just rocking as he felt her back, her waist, her hips. Finally, he wrapped his arms around her waist and just buried his face into her shoulder. They stood.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said finally. “It feels like it’s been weeks since we’ve been able to just sit and talk.”

  “I know,” Samantha said, breathing his scent. “There’s always so much to do.”

  His fingers found the gap between her shirt and pants, brushing over exposed skin, and she shivered. He started to apologize, but got her answer before he had formed words. Not a bad thing. He closed his hand on her hip and turned his face in toward her. She lost her breath. Swallowed. Forced herself to draw air again.

  “Take what’s offered,” she said, anxious now. His nerves were past; he watched her with eyes that didn’t flinch, didn’t reconsider. He blinked, once, agreement, and she pulled back a bit further. “This may still be a bad idea.”

  He loosened his grip on her slightly, giving her the window to get away, but she pulled his shoulders down further and kissed him.

  The combination of what she felt and what she was aware of over the bond was still mind-shattering, of cosmic significance, but it lacked the empty black hole level of gravity. A gap in time opened up and she found herself in her bed with him, his shirt in some corner of her room, spinning down from the initial rush. He kissed her again, hard, and her eyes rolled back in her head. His hands, his arms, his body defined the boundaries of her world, but they could choose to quit. She lay her head on his chest as his hand made a slow path from her hip to her shoulder and back, and she felt his fingers playing in her hair.

  “You ever wish we could just run away to some tiny little island where they’ve never heard of demons and never seen a ghost?” Sam asked.

  “No internet,” Samantha said.

  “No internet and no cell phone reception.”

  “No roads.”

  “Just sit on a beach and watch the waves.”

  “I’d burn,” she said. “I can’t take that much sun.”

  He laughed.

  “Jason would kill me, when he found me.”

  “I’m afraid I already did my running away thing, anyway,” Samantha said. His chest rose and fell with his deep breath, and he pulled his hand from under her shirt to push her hair back over her ear.

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “People would miss you,” Samantha said. She rolled onto her back and dropped her head onto his shoulder. “People would die, if we ran away.”

  “So?” Sam asked. “Why is it our job to fix it? Why are we the ones who have to run around all the time like there’s nothing else in life?” Even as he said it, she knew he knew the answer. It was simple fantasy. He was happy. She looked up, running a finger along his jaw line.

  “Why indeed,” she said. He grinned.

  “So what happens next?” he asked after a while, propping his head up with his hand behind his pillow.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, suspicious.

  “With Jason? With everything?”

  “He’ll need a day off to recover before I start pushing him again, but after that, I’ll probably start on combat training.”

  “So we’ve got a day off?” Sam asked, mouth playing at a grin.

  “Yeah. I guess we do.”

  “You remember that first time through Dallas?” Sam asked. “With Heather, we just went out wandering?”

  She closed her eyes. The warm, dry air had suited her, even if the amount of sun had not. Sam had still been figuring out what it meant to be psychic. Those had been good days.

  “Yes.”

  “We’ve never worked in New York before,” he said.

  “What are you saying?”

  “What have you never done, that you’re supposed to do when you’re in New York?” he asked. She rolled onto her side, hand finding the hollow of his chest with sizzling novelty. He put his arm around her and pulled her closer.

  “I’ve never done any of it,” she said. “Central park, the Met, the Empire State building… I’ve never just stood to look at the Statue of Liberty.”

  “So let’s do it,” he said. “Let’s go out and do all of the stuff that you’ve ever wanted to do.”

  “I doubt we could talk Jason into it,” she said. He laughed. Her head shook when he laughed, and she squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could freeze time.

  “You’re probably right.”

  They were quiet again, and Samantha kept expecting him to fall asleep, but his mind was still active.

  “I’ve never been around you and Carter when I could tell how you felt about him. You really do care about him.”

  “Is that strange?”

  “He’s kind of a jerk, and by your own admission, everyone hates him.”

  “He took me in after my parents died, and he took care of me. On this plane, he was only a couple of years older than me, but he gave me a place to stay and something to do with my time. We kind of grew into each other after that.”

  “Still a little strange, being that affectionate toward someone who is as…” Sam paused, picking a word that he thought wouldn’t upset her.

  “Casually cruel?” Samantha suggested. He laughed.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s hard to explain those five years to someone who wasn’t there. Even Abby doesn’t completely get it. We saved each other, but he’s only got so much genuine to give. He stores it up for when it’s important.”

  “You’re not just co-dependent or Stockholm syndromed with him?”

  She laughed.

  “Either one is possible, but no. It’s not just that.”

  “Then I’ll try to like him.”

  Samantha looked at him, chewing the inside of her lip.

  “I doubt you’ll ever manage, but I appreciate the attempt.”

  He kissed her forehead and she closed her eyes again, shifting to lay across his chest with her ear pressed so that she could hear his heart beat. She couldn’t be at all sure which of them was the first to finally drift away.

 
<><><>

  Jason woke up the next morning to find Carter standing in the doorway to Samantha’s room, chewing on something. He sat up, finding quickly that most every muscle in his body wanted hot water and a massage, but he forced himself to his feet and lumbered over to Carter.

  “Granola bar?” Carter asked, offering Jason half a bar, wrapped in doubled-over plastic. He held up his hand.

  “No thanks. So?”

  “See for yourself,” Carter said. Jason stepped around him and frowned. The bed was a shambles of sheets and blankets, and Samantha was asleep on Sam’s chest wearing… excellent pajamas, but…

  “Is he still wearing a belt?” Jason asked.

  “So it would appear,” Carter said. Jason stepped out of the way as Carter closed the door again.

  “I’d think she would get a lock,” Jason said. Carter took another bite of his granola bar.

  “Oh, she did,” he said. “Lots of them. There may still be a standing order for someone who can build one that can beat me. You want breakfast?”

  “Just coffee, thanks,” Jason said. Carter went back to the kitchen area of the loft and pulled a mug out of a cabinet.

  “I don’t like having you here,” Carter said. Jason took the coffee.

  “You don’t say.”

  “Sam is going to give you the day off, today. No question. Even I would give you the day off, and she’s soft.”

  “Okay.”

  Carter leaned against the counter, biting the remaining quarter of the granola bar in half and chewing. Jason shrugged and drank his coffee.

  “I want to propose something to get all three of you out of my apartment all day,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Something that will occupy you,” Carter said.

  “How do you figure?”

  “Rachel lives downstairs three floors. Eight, in the elevator. I called her. She’s expecting you,” Carter said, putting the rest of the granola bar into his mouth and whisking his hands against each other over the sink.

  “Okay…” Jason said, putting down the mug.

  “She said you should get in the elevator wearing nothing but a bathrobe and go to her floor. If she likes what she sees, she won’t send you back up. There’s a robe in the bathroom.”

  Carter pointed. Jason cocked an eyebrow at him.