Hidden Faults

Ann Somerville

‘Hidden Faults’ Copyright © 2011 by Ann Somerville
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Published by Ann Somerville

Chapter One

I walked up to the research wing, changing into a clean coat before going to the medical lab

where I found Lamiw, my assistant, laying out the therapy inhalers ready for use.

I smiled at her. “Are we ready?”
“Yes. Shall I?”
I nodded, so she used the comm to contact security and have them bring up the first subject

—a pyrokinetic, I noted from the chart.

A minute or so later, a tap came at the lab door, and then two security guards brought in our

subject, one Neim hon Darzi, a man my father’s age, dressed in the nondescript grey overalls we
issued to patients in our care. His tattooed hands hung loosely at his sides, and his expression
held no purpose, his face weather-beaten and marred by broken capillaries. Life had not been
kind to Mas Neim.

“Thank you for coming, Mas Neim. I’m Arwe Jodimai, and I’m in charge of this testing

phase.”

He looked at me as if I’d spoken gibberish. I smiled reassuringly and gestured towards the

treatment chair.

“Please sit down, Mas Neim. I’m afraid you’ll need to be restrained for your safety.”
The man shuffled over to the chair, where the guards secured him tightly and far from gently.

Lamiw took no interest in the patient at all. She disliked paras and never made a secret of it. She
was far from unusual in that.

I fitted the sensors. Mas Neim didn’t really seem to care what I did, rheumy blue eyes staring

vacantly into space as if he was still on naksen. He wasn’t. He’d detoxed under supervision, and
was doubtless as healthy and sober now as he’d been in years. It wasn’t just naksen that drove the
will and health out of a man.

Once all the sensor pads were fitted, I waited as Lamiw took baseline readings. Mas Neim

continued his empty stare, ignoring us both.

Finally she nodded at me. I cleared my throat and picked up a piece of paper from the desk.
“Mas Neim, I know you signed our volunteer agreement, but I’d like to get verbal

confirmation from you. Do you mind if I go over the form before we move on?”

“No. Do what you like. I don’t care.”
Behind me, Lamiw made a small snort of derision. I ignored her.
“Still, I need to be certain this is with your consent. It’s not risk-free. Were the risks and

side-effects explained to you?”

He made an aborted movement, as if he wanted to wipe his mouth or his face with his

restrained hands, then sighed wearily. “Said I’d get sick. A cold. Could get worse—maybe
pneumonia. Don’t care. Anything’s better than this.”

“There’s also the gene therapy itself. If it takes, we’re not sure exactly what effects it might

have—”

“I said I don’t care, doctor. I might be a para, but I’m no fool.” His eyes were suddenly and

briefly sharp. “Stop treating me like one.”

“Mind your mouth,” Lamiw snapped, but I held up my hand to quieten her.
“I apologise, sir. I wanted to be sure you were sure.”
“I am. Do it.” He stared up at me again, this time pleadingly.
“Very well.”
I stepped back, waited for Lamiw to indicate the readings had settled down. When she

nodded, I said, “All right, sir. If you would please make a small fireball?”

The guards pulled out their electroreeds and stun guns in readiness. Mas Neim ignored them.
Suddenly a tiny ball of white light popped into life right in front of my eyes, startling me. I

jumped back, coughing in surprise, then yelled as the closer of two guards seemed ready to shoot
the patient.

“No! It’s fine! No harm—don’t!”
The guard held the gun at the ready, but mercifully didn’t let off a shot. Mas Neim’s

expression hadn’t changed.

“Sir, if you wouldn’t mind?”
The fireball disappeared.
“Er...thank you.” My heart still pounded from the fright but I did my best to appear

untroubled, as much to stop the guards from overreacting as anything else.

Mas Neim looked up, the briefest twist of his mouth his only reaction. “Sorry. Control’s a bit

sticky after all this time.”

Privately I doubted that, but if he wanted to risk an electroreed to the kidneys for the pleasure

of getting a little payback on a normal, I couldn’t really blame him.

“Fine. We’ll be asking you to do that again, but if you could make sure you don’t let it come

near anyone, then we’ll all be happy.”

He let out a harsh, humourless laugh. “Anything you say, doctor.”
The delivery of the viral agent was something of an anticlimax after that—the inhaler

inoculated him very quickly, and before evening, he’d start to feel unwell. He’d be under strictly
controlled conditions with constant care, but in a man of his age and not in good health,
complications were always a concern. I asked him to display his talent once more. This time the
fireball danced harmlessly in front of his own face.

As the guards uncuffed Mas Neim, he looked at me again. “How long before it works?”
“You’ll be mildly ill for a week. If there’s no indication of any effect from the therapy two

weeks after that, then you’ll be put back on the naksen.”

“Two weeks? Is that long enough? I mean...what if I’m just slow? I don’t mind being locked

up if you just...don’t put me back on that stuff. Please.”

He made to grab my hand, but the security guard yanked him back, almost off his feet.
“You said you knew what you’d agreed to, Mas Neim,” I said, infusing coldness into my

voice to hide my pity for this wreck. “It’s unlawful for you to be at liberty without the naksen.
You know that.”

“Then put me in jail!” He jerked in the guard’s grip. “Please! That drug, that horrible

drug...please, don’t make me go back onto it—”

“Calm down, Mas Neim. Getting like this won’t help.”
He suddenly spat at me, a great gobbet hitting my arm. “Heartless bastard. We’re animals to

you.”

I didn’t move to wipe his spittle from my sleeve. “No, you’re not. Please, calm down. Take

him out to the ward, and treat him with care, please,” I said to the guards. “Don’t blame him for
this reaction.”

I didn’t have much hope they wouldn’t take it out on him, but I had to try.
“Come on,” the older guard said, dragging the man around and forcing him to the door. All

the fight had gone out of Mas Neim before he left the room.

I plucked a tissue from a box on the treatment table to wipe off my arm and wished we had a

real alternative, rather than pie in the sky dreams of a complete cure for paranormality. Naksen’s
brutal, overwhelming obliteration of paranormal ability, even at the price of obliterating the spirit
too, was all that kept people like him from annihilation. But was death worse?

I dropped the soiled tissue into the hazardous waste bin. Lamiw curled her lips in disgust.

“Don’t they realise we’re trying to help them? I wonder why we bother.”

“If you don’t know, then why are you working here, Arwe Lamiw?”
Her eyes widened in shock. I would normally never dream of speaking to any of my staff so

sharply, but I’d grown tired of her attitude.

“If you don’t believe in this project, I can easily transfer you to another where you’ll feel

more committed.”

“I-I...I do. I believe...I just...the way he spoke to you. And to spit like that.”
“We ask a great deal of these people. They’re the foot soldiers in a war they may never see

an end to. A little tolerance is a small price to pay for their cooperation. Sign off on those
readings, please.”

I turned away from her before I said something that would ruin our working relationship for

good. I found myself facing the tall, imposing figure of my boss, Kregan hon Sersa, and my
stomach tightened in reflex. Shitting hell.

I forced a polite smile. “Sir? I wasn’t expecting you here during the therapy administration.”

“I wanted a word with you, Arwe Jodimai. Are you pressed for time?”
I’d known him since before I’d graduated, had become something of a family friend, but in

public, he always used my full name and title. This time it indicated his displeasure rather than
his innate formality.

“We’ve got four more subjects waiting, sir.”
“Five minutes, no more. Arwe Limiw, if you would excuse us for a moment or two?”
She bobbed her head and fairly ran for the door, closing it behind her, her reaction pretty

standard for anyone encountering Kregan. Part of that resulted from his appearance. His
heterochromic eyes unnerved people, and his great height and luxuriant hair made him seem like
some ancient god come to walk the earth.

He sat down at the desk. “Now, Jodi. What was that all about?”
“What did you hear?”
“You threatening Arwe Limiw’s job. I don’t approve of that kind of behaviour. It’s not like

you.”

He could always make me feel twelve again, standing before my father for some childish

prank. Keeping me standing while he sat, contributed to that feeling.

“No, sir. I simply found her attitude frustrating. I know she doesn’t like paranormals, but if

she doesn’t think there’s any point to our research, then why doesn’t she work on something else?
She asked to be on this project, and yet I’ve seen no evidence she believes in what we’re doing.”

He scrutinized me over the top of his glasses. “Not everyone sees their work as a holy

mission, Jodi. She’s young, and probably thinks this will look good on her résumé. Does it
matter, so long as she does what you ask her to do?”

“No, sir. I lost my temper. I’ll apologise.”
“I’ll speak to her. If she managed to make you angry, she must be irritating indeed.”
He gave me a brief, cool smile. I tried and failed to imagine him losing control of himself

under any circumstances—even sex. A machine. Everyone said it—even joked about his wife
having to oil his gears for him once a week. A mind like a steel trap to go with it, too. That he
was head of this project and we had still failed, was the most depressing thing about it.

“I was on my way down to ask if you were all set for tomorrow. A thankless job I’ve given

you there.”

“I’m looking forward to it, actually.” He raised a dark eyebrow at me. “Not our presentation

—the conference should be interesting, that’s all. Kanar’s speaking, and he’s always inspiring.”

“Oh yes. A bit of a rabble-rouser, but we need people like him to fire up enthusiasm in the

hearts of our young scientists.” He got to his feet. At twenty midecs, he towered over me and
everyone else who worked for him. “Nuela reminded me that you’ve not been to supper with us
in ages. It’s your birthday next week, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir, but I'm going out with a lady friend for dinner.”

Kregan tsked. “Then perhaps the week after?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. Nuela enjoys your company.” He lowered his voice a little. “It’s

important to remain objective, Jodi. Care about your work, believe in it, but remain detached.”

“I believe we should care about the patients too, sir. They don’t choose to be paranormal.”
“Very true, and I’ll point that out to your assistant. If she really doesn’t care, then I’ll

reassign her myself. You’re a top class researcher, Jodi. You deserve top class assistance.”

“Thank you,” I said, flushing at the praise.
“Now I expect a report on the conference by the end of next week. Don’t be tempted to put a

gloss on the reaction to your presentation. I’m aware how thin it is. This time next year, we’ll
have something to amaze them.”

“Yes, we will,” I said, answering his determined tone if not the hard facts, which were that

we had no idea if we’d ever crack this problem.

“Carry on, Jodi.” And then he left.
I slumped, sighing, partly with relief and partly out of annoyance at myself for letting him

see me lose control that way. Limiw was adequate at her job, and if she’d learn to keep her
opinions to herself, I’d have no problem with her or anyone else on the staff. Neim had rattled me
—struck at my physician’s pride. No doctor should force patients back into drug addiction that
served no therapeutic purpose. But when the alternative was mass internment, or worse....

I forced myself to remember I wasn’t in fact Neim’s doctor, and he’d consented freely and

with full information. He wasn’t the first to beg me for something I had no power to give, and he
wouldn’t be the last. Not until we succeeded.

I shook myself, made sure I’d cleaned my coat thoroughly of Neim’s spittle, and then put a

call down to security.

“Arwe Jodimai here. Send the next subject on up, please.”

Chapter Two

“Further refreshments, sir?”
“One moshino, one khevai,” I ordered, after glancing at Timo to confirm his usual. “And

then the bill, my dear.”

Our waitress bowed low. “Yes, sir. Immediately.”
I smiled politely, and she rushed off to fill our order, ducking around her colleagues and the

patrons. At this time of day the great and the good—the lawmakers and the judges and senior
politicians in the government, even one or two familiar faces from skims—filled the restaurant. A
respectable doctor and his engineer companion passed quite unnoticed in this company and in
such elegant surroundings.

Timo called my attention back to him with a quiet tink-tink of his spoon on my water glass.
“I’m surprised Kregan didn’t withdraw your slot at the conference, since the report’s so

lacklustre.”

“Would have looked worse if he had. If our department can’t present a paper once a year at

the leading forum specifically aimed at their own central research, it looks bad for him. This way,
it looks bad for me.” I shrugged at the sour face he pulled. “Come on, don’t tell me you’ve never
gone to a professional conference and done presentations which amount to ‘we can’t make it
work and we still have no idea why, but hey, we’re still amazingly clever’?”

Our waitress returned, setting Timo’s khevai down before him, and placing my moshino in

front of me, her hands barely shaking at all. Impressive control, but then she wouldn’t have a job
if she hadn’t had it.

“The bill, sir?”
“To me—ah, ah, you paid last time, Timo,” I said, fending off his grabbing hand. I looked up

at the waitress. “To me, please.”

She put the metal salver down beside my cup, the heavy paranormal tattoo on her hand

reflected in the silvered surface. I extracted my wallet. Ignoring Timo’s attempt to hand me some
money, I placed three hundred down on the salver, then placed my hand over hers, pressing it
down gently over the notes.

I looked up at her puzzled face. “Keep the change,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“Sir—”
“Keep the change.”
She kept her hand over the notes as she picked up the salver, fear mixed with her gratitude in

her expression. Did she think it was some kind of trick? Tips weren’t illegal, not even of that size,
not even for her kind.

“Thank you, sir. M-Marra bless you, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Timo gave me a wry look as I turned back to him. “You think that makes a difference?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Timo.” I hoped my research would lead to a world where no

one needed to be marked out for their paranormality. Until then, donations such as this were all I
could offer to salve the guilt of privilege.

We left not long afterwards. The elegant restaurant was in an elegant area, full of modern

apartment blocks and expensive offices, but still we passed a dozen or more para beggars, all
with the characteristic naksen shake, as we made our way out onto the cold, windy street, down
towards the commercial veecle stands.

A smart red and white veecle for hire accepted our hail and pulled in, and I offered it to

Timo. I shook hands with him, relishing, as always, the familiar strength of his arm, even if these
days only as a friend.

“Hana insists on you coming to dinner for your birthday,” he said. “The boys want to see

their favourite uncle.”

“I'm sorry, but I'm going out.”
“Oh. She’ll be very disappointed.”
I faked a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, well, if she would mind so much....” Truthfully, a dinner

with Timo and his family had far more charms for me than what I’d planned. “I’ll cancel my
other arrangement.”

Timo raised a slim eyebrow at me in a knowing manner, but said nothing. My social life was

a matter of survival, as well he knew. Marriage wasn’t an option as it had been for him.

He took the veecle and went back to his engineering firm’s headquarters in north Vizinken.

As I waved him away, preparing to hail a veecle for myself, I saw a man across the lane, looking
my way. He smiled, showing his teeth, his big dark eyes alight with secret mischief. I couldn’t
help smiling back. He tipped his head as if acknowledging me, quickly and discreetly, then
walked off, perhaps as conscious as I was how it looked. I admired the shape of his arse for a
second or two, but then turned my eyes away, not wanting to be too obvious. No, marriage
wasn’t an option for me—but the life I followed had a few pleasures I wasn’t yet ready to
surrender.

I secured a veecle in a minute or so, and headed east to our labs. I came inside out of the cold

wind, took off my coat, then ran my wrist chip over the door security sensor and walked into the
foyer. Ajeile, our receptionist, gave me a bright smile.

“Hi, Jodi. Nice lunch?”
“Yes, thanks. Pity there’s nowhere closer to eat—such a nuisance for entertaining people.”

She nodded politely. “Speaking of which...you remember we were supposed to go out next Juine,
on my birthday?”

Her pretty face fell, anticipating rejection.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve been asked to go to dinner with some very close friends. I’m sort of

honorary uncle to their sons but....” I drew the little folder out of my inner coat pocket. “If it’s an
acceptable alternative, I’ve got two tickets the following night for the Kladi concert. Would
you...?”

I smiled to myself as her expression changed from disappointment to raw amazement. “Jodi,

are you serious? Tickets? They’ve been sold out for months! How did you—”

“A friend was disposing of them, and I thought I could find a use for them,” I lied smoothly.

Actually, I made a habit of picking up tickets to highly popular events to use in this way. “Short
notice, but I take it you’d—”

She clasped her hands together in prayer. “Please? Jodi, I’d do anything to go!”
I gave her my most charming smile. “All you have to do is make yourself ready for half six,

and I’ll collect you.”

She’d talk about it to all her friends until the concert, and doubtless long after, embellishing

the details as she went. I’d have to go back to her place so she could show her gratitude, of
course, but for the cost of the ticket, I would have my undoubted heterosexuality verified for at
least a month, and that would take some pressure off me. The costs of my deceptions were high,
but so were the risks of exposure. I wouldn’t allow my work and the potential benefits to be
sidelined for the want of a few harmless dates with a person of the socially expected sex. The
sacrifice was more than worth it.

~~~

Kanar’s talk was the last one at the conference, and provocative as always. More of a

medical ethicist than pure researcher, hailing from the more liberal environment of Tsikeni in the
south, his constant theme was whether we had a right to meddle with a genetic inheritance which
had no debilitating consequences other than infertility and what society artificially created. That
those with the gene, active or not, were protected against many common cancers and had a far
stronger immune system, had been known for many years, of course. Were we as clinicians
prepared to add the burden of increased illness on our citizens, for the benefit of an increased
population and safety from paranormal crime?

The discussion that followed grew heated. Kanar loved it, smirking as the insults flew. It was

what he lived for. I, who preferred a quieter existence, still admired his bravery in putting himself
out as a target. His views on paranormality had attracted a good deal of attention, and he’d
received serious death threats. It was widely accepted that he lived under constant security
surveillance, and not just for his own protection. He dealt with that by being utterly transparent.
He had nothing to hide. Lucky for him.

The conference ran over time, but that surprised no one. Since we were at the inn where the

official drinks reception would be held, all we had to do was move from the auditorium to the

ballroom, conversations barely interrupted by the change of venue.

After getting a drink and snatching up some snacks to stave off hunger pangs until supper, I

found myself in a circle of scientists around Kanar, listening to him holding forth. I didn’t
comment, but hung back like several others, old and wise enough not to fall for his bait, but
young enough to be amused by those who did.

Distracted by the entertainment, I finished my wine rather too quickly, and wanted

something non-alcoholic to chase it. The last thing I wanted was to end up drunk and incapable
among my professional colleagues, and these events could be deadly that way. Not all of us could
drink like Kanar, who could take alcohol in quantities that would fell an urtibes, and still sound
coherent.

I spotted a waiter with a drink tray and caught his eye. He moved smoothly over and offered

me the tray, but as my hand reached for a glass of juice, it nearly collided with another. I looked
up and found a dark-featured man smiling at me.

“Oops. You first,” he said.
I took the glass, he collected his own, and the waiter turned away to serve other people. The

newcomer didn’t seem inclined to move on, so I smiled at him.

“Hi. I don’t remember seeing you earlier. I’m Jodimai hon Belwin.”
He held out his hand. “Tek.”
I shook his hand, noted the casual introduction, the calloused palms, the somewhat badly

fitting suit, and the aggressively short hair that looked like his mother had cut it for him.
Someone from the regions, I surmised.

“You’re not from Vizinken?”
He jerked as if surprised, and I set his hand free. “No...I’m a student. From Tsikeni.”
I looked at him again. Slightly shorter than me, though taller than most, slim build, narrow

features that were unremarkable except for the long-lashed brown eyes that wouldn’t have
shamed a barchin. Possibly my age, but with the dark Pindoni looks that made it hard to tell.

“No you’re not. Where’s your conference badge?”
“Dropped it?” He flashed white teeth at me, as though his obvious lie was a wonderful joke,

and I couldn’t help but grin back. “Gonna report me?”

His hand had lingered a tiny bit too long in mine, and his eyes now held

something...knowing. My heart beat a little faster, the thrill rising in my blood. I guided him a
little way from the knot of people around Kanar.

“Here for free drinks?”
Those long lashes dipped again. “Not...entirely.” He looked up. “There’s free food too.”
I held down a laugh with some difficulty. “And afterwards?”
“Maybe a chance of something hot?”
My face had certainly heated up, but I pretended a casualness I didn’t feel at all.

“Could be. How were you planning to get a seat at the supper table?”
“It’s a buffet. Finger food. You sure you’re not gonna report me?”
“Make it worth my while?”
He saluted me with his drink. “I’d do that for free.”
There was something a little dark in his half-smile, the way he looked so levelly at me, but I

didn’t sense he was dangerous. Just someone addicted to thrills, perhaps, though a genetic
research conference didn’t strike me as the best place to look for them. I wondered why he’d
chosen this inn, but the thought drifted away. Didn’t do to question such bounty almost falling
into my lap.

Oh, Marra, I’d not expected this tonight. I returned the salute with my own glass, and tried to

keep my excitement out of my expression as I took him by the arm.

“Come with me, and keep your mouth shut. Anyone asks, you’re a cousin of mine studying

biology who’s thinking of switching to medical research.”

“I could be a real student.” He’d have almost seemed affronted, if it weren’t for the twinkle

in those lush, dark eyes.

“And I could be the Queen of the Weadenal. Come along, I don’t need people to have a

chance to look too closely at you and that horrible suit.”

“‘S a nice suit,” he muttered, but he let me tow him along away, perfectly amenable. I liked

that in a man.

~~~

The second I woke, I knew I wasn’t in my own bedroom. It took me a couple of seconds

longer to work out why I was so sure. The light came from the wrong direction, filtered by dark
red curtains, not pale green.

I sat up and groaned—Marra’s testicles, my head. And my backside and legs too. What the

hell had I been doing last night to end up here?

“Hello?”
No reply. I looked around for signs of the room’s owner, and realised it wasn’t any ordinary

bedroom, but an inn suite. A pad of paper sat near the light—I squinted at it. The ‘Dance of
Indages’—the inn where the conference had been held. Had I gone to bed with one of the
attendees? Had anyone seen me?

I moved to get up and yelped as my back muscles twinged. Cautiously I stretched, clenched

my butt, and winced at the sting. I’d had sex—and as the receptive partner. But who in hell with?

I scrambled out of bed, ignoring the incriminating aches and stinging, and dragged my

clothes on. No sign of anyone else’s—no sign that anyone else but me had slept in the bed, but
someone must have. I sniffed. The room smelled faintly of semen and sweat. No artificial scent,
no cologne, perfume, not even hair cleanser. I checked the bed—no damp spot, no hairs, nothing.
I’d had sex with someone obsessively clean, apparently. I hoped I hadn’t been too drunk to insist

on protection.

The last thing I remembered was...Kanar. Yes, Kanar holding forth and then...nothing until I

woke up. Somewhere between then and now, I’d met someone. But who? Whose room was this?
And how could I find out without drawing attention to my situation. I noticed the keycard on the
writing desk. Why would the owner go out without taking it?

Well, I didn’t care. I needed to get out of here before anyone from the conference saw me

slinking out of another man’s room. It was late—nine, so my timekeeper told me. Maybe my
mystery host had gone to get breakfast.

I endeavoured to look nonchalant as I rode the lift down—already preparing my cover story

that I’d had an early meeting with a colleague—but I encountered no one I knew. I walked to the
reception area unchallenged, my shaking knees and clenching gut not obvious enough to attract
attention.

The receptionist smiled at me as I approached, key in hand. “Good morning, sir.”
“Uh...hi. Can I hand this back in?”
He accepted the key from me. “Will you be returning to the inn, sir?”
“No.”
He nodded and tapped in something on his viewcom. “Then that’s fine, Arwe Jodimai.

We’ve got your account details, and there are no further charges. I hope you’ll consider our inn
again should you require accommodation in our city.”

After I pressed my wrist against the scanner for verification, he handed me a receipt. Check-

in time had been half eight the previous night.

“Uh...thanks. Er. Yes, I will. Can I ask you something? Rather, is there someone who was on

duty last night I can ask?”

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise, then clicked his fingers. A moment later, a young, red-

haired porter appeared from behind me.

“Disune, our guest needs to ask you a question.”
Disune smiled as I thanked the receptionist, and then I drew him away from the desk.
“How can I help you, sir?”
“Uh—look, this is a really stupid question, but did you see me check in last night?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, nodding. “I remember because you didn’t have any luggage with you.”
“Uh, right. Was I with anyone?”
The lad frowned. “No, sir. Not that I saw.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’d be on your bill, sir. We always note the number of guests.”
I glanced down at the receipt. No. guests—1.
“Ah. Was I...acting oddly at all?”
“Not that I noticed, sir. You were very nice to me when I asked if you had any luggage—

even gave me a little tip though I’d done no work.”

“Oh.” I pulled out my wallet, first picked the ten and then changed my mind. I handed him a

twenty. “Then this is for your trouble. Thank you for answering my questions—uh...this is
embarrassing, you understand.”

He took the note from me and tilted his chin. “I don’t talk about our guests, sir.”
“Good lad. Thank you.”
He smiled and wandered off, no doubt as confused by my idiocy as I was—or maybe he’d

seen it all before.

The doorman hailed me a veecle, and I made my escape, trying hard to ignore my sore

backside. An alcoholic blackout? But though I had a headache, it wasn’t a hangover proper. It felt
more like I hadn’t had enough sleep. Some kind of stroke? I’d never heard of one that specific in
effect before. Drugs? But how to explain my apparently normal, rational behaviour in front of the
hotel staff?

I stared out at the windblown streets as the veecle whisked me along in heated comfort,

insulated from the weather, though the veecle’s warmth didn’t touch the chill inside me. Memory
loss was a symptom of many things, almost none of them benign, but to seek treatment, or even a
diagnosis, would mean revealing how I knew I’d missed time—and I couldn’t. Being revealed as
a homosexual would ruin me—and my employers would see my medical records. It was one of
the conditions of working for National Security. On paper, discriminating against me because of
my sexuality was illegal. In reality, I’d never get another promotion or research project again.
Kregan was more open-minded than many employers—but I didn’t only work with him.

I panicked when I realised I’d walked into the house without consciously remembering

paying the veecle driver, but calmed down a little when I backtracked and recalled my arrival and
being told the fare. Nothing like that worked for the hotel room or sex. It was a complete blank,
as if I’d been unconscious. Had I been raped? I rushed to my bathroom and checked myself in the
long mirror—no bruising, grazes, nothing other than a stinging anus and some sore muscles to
indicate that I’d had sex of any kind. None of those symptoms were inconsistent with a
consensual encounter. In any event, I couldn’t report I’d been raped to the defs. Once I explained
how I recognised the evidence of sexual activity, I knew too well how I’d be treated. I’d seen too
many men ruined by mere rumours.

I sat gingerly on an armchair and hugged myself. Nothing in my life had prepared me for

this. Sure, I knew about secret lives and hidden desires—but I’d always been completely aware of
what I was doing and who with, even if I rarely knew names. The only person I could talk to
about this would be Timo, but Timo wasn’t a doctor. He could do nothing more than offer
sympathy and what I could do myself—speculate without any real information.

I needed a shower. As I stood under the stream, I started to shake so hard, I had to hang onto

the rail to stay upright. Finally my stomach rebelled too. I vomited, bringing up nothing but bile

—so whatever else I’d done, I hadn’t eaten in some time. I stared at the water washing away what
I’d thrown up. If I’d been fucked without a condom, then the consequences of last night wouldn’t
be so easily disposed of. But any testing—any positive result—and my secret would be out.

I had some analgesic cream which eased the discomfort in my arse, and not being reminded

over and over of what must have happened, helped slightly. I wrapped up in my warmest indoor
clothes and turned the heating way up, even though the weather was still too mild to justify using
it at all.

I couldn’t get warm, and the sense of violation grew stronger with every passing second. Had

it been another conference attendee? Might it even be someone I saw regularly in Vizinken?
About half the people there were locals. Had anyone seen me with another man?

I couldn’t stop trembling, on the verge of hysteria. Giving in to that would make it all so

much worse and invite curiosity from my neighbours. I had to calm down, even if it meant drugs.
But the only sedative I had access to without leaving the house was alcohol, so I poured a big
glass of temlido and forced myself to drink it. By the time I’d finished, my hands weren’t shaking
any more, but I still felt...raped. Maybe I should talk to Timo after all. But would he even
understand what this felt like? I’d treated rape victims and my reaction still surprised me.

The temlido made me feel a bit number, and not so close to screaming. I decided a second

glass would be even more effective. By the time I poured out the third, I was dimly aware this
was probably not very sensible, but I wasn’t shaking or sick any more, and the terror of being ill
or infected had receded to a manageable problem.

My head snapped up as the door alarm sounded again.
“What?”
No one answered me. I eventually remembered that I needed to actually open the door. I

staggered across the room and into the hall, glass still in hand. Maybe my visitor would like to
join me in a drink....

~~~

My head was killing me. The sun through the curtains stabbed like a knife blade right in my

eye so I shut it again. What the hell has possessed me to sit up drinking with Kanar and his
cronies? And what kind of fool had I made of myself in the process?

I huddled under the covers but in very little time found I was actually much too hot.

Throwing back the bedclothes, I realised the heating was on—and on high. Marra’s tits, I must
have turned it on in my drunken state when I got home. The timekeeper on the dresser read one—
half the day gone, and I was still useless. At least Kanar had been paying.

I stumbled around, turning the heating off and opening a window, and then downing as much

water as I could bear. I put the kettle on and while it boiled, took a double dose of painkiller.
Heavily sweetened khevai finally helped me feel almost normal. I hadn’t got that plastered since
my student days—normally I was far too cautious. I hoped I hadn’t blabbed anything

embarrassing to Kanar or his friends.

My backside hurt—stung, in fact. My own stupid fault for showering while drunk and

putting careless fingers where they shouldn’t go without proper preparation. I needed to get laid
if my subconscious made me do stuff like that under the influence. Visiting a place I knew in
Low Town might help, after I got the headache under control, and the sun set. Hadn’t been there
in a while, trying to keep a discreet profile. It had been two months since my last visit. If I had to
resort to putting my fingers up my bottom in intoxicated frustration, then it was more than time
for another.

~~~

I had a burst of inspiration that weekend about what might be frustrating our efforts to switch

off the paranormal gene, and spent Parne furiously writing up my ideas, sending them off to
Kregan for his thoughts late that evening. On Gifir, he called me in to discuss them and the
conference. It occasionally occurred to me that I was the only less senior researcher who had this
kind of relationship with him, but since I’d known him before I’d started work here, it felt
natural. I won no favours on the back of it. He was as strict with me as anyone else, and if I
screwed up, then I received the same ticking off as the others.

He picked several holes in my ideas, but seized on two crucial points, the importance of

which I’d overlooked. When he’d finished explaining, he looked up from the notes I’d given him.

“I’ll put someone on a literature search this morning. Limiw, in fact. I’ve decided to reassign

her,” he explained as I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “You were right. Her attitude isn’t
appropriate for your project. She has religious objections to paranormals that she isn’t able to set
aside, unfortunately.”

I couldn’t help but be relieved, though I didn’t want another researcher’s career damaged

because of my temper. “She’s an excellent scientist, sir.”

“Yes, indeed.” Kregan’s expression was unreadable. “However, her talents don’t lie in work

with patients. I’ve assigned Darno to you.”

“Actually, I thought Arwe Lenai might benefit....” My voice trailed off as his expression

darkened. “What’s wrong, sir?”

“Arwe Lenai won’t be working here any more, Jodi. He’s been associating with Spiritists.

His security grading dropped below acceptable levels for our department.”

I jerked in shock. “No! Has he been arrested? Charged?”
He took off his glasses and pinched his nose. “No. At least not yet. I can’t discuss it further

with you, and I’d ask you not to discuss it outside this room. Officially, he’s been seconded to the
Department of Health and Welfare. Silly bloody fool.”

“To throw away his career for that...are they sure? He never struck me as religious, sir.”
He gave me a narrow-eyed look. “I can’t discuss it, Jodi, and that’s final. Let me say that

should you find the urge to sit around holding hands with people who claim they can see the

dead, I’d be very disappointed in you.”

“Me too.”
Inside my chest, my heart hammered hard enough to hurt. We’d never lost an employee this

way in the six years I’d worked in this department. I'd heard stories. Timo had lost three
colleagues during security clampdowns in the past...but of all the stupid ways to fuck up a career.
And how the hell had Lenai even met up with people like that? Why had he? He wasn’t a para.
What did the Spiritists even offer him?

“If it’s a mistake, will he come back?”
He shook his head. “National Security doesn’t make mistakes, Arwe Jodimai. Now, you

better get back to your lab. I hope you didn’t spend all weekend on this. You look a little tired. I
don’t want you to burn out on me.”

“I’m fine, sir. I had a bit of a long night after the conference, drank a little too much.” I gave

him an embarrassed smile. “Kanar’s a terrible influence.”

“That he certainly is, but he keeps us on our ethical toes. Though I probably shouldn’t say it,

we need people like him to challenge the official line.”

I blinked. I always thought Kregan and the official line were as one. “You think he has a

point, sir?”

“I think he’s a valuable irritant. So long as he doesn’t support terrorism or Spiritists, then

he’s a useful reminder of the complexity of the issue. He’s too intelligent to get involved with
anyone likely to cause trouble.”

And maybe his continued liberty makes people think their views can be heard, I dared to

think, not that I was the first to conceive such an idea. “Maybe the problem is that the people who
listen to him, aren’t that smart.”

“He’s aware of that too, Jodi. He knows exactly how far he can go, and goes not a mycdec

past that point. He should have been a politician.”

“Then someone really would have assassinated him by now.”
“Indeed. Now, back to work. I still want that formal report on the conference. I can distribute

it to the meeting of department heads if you get it to me before the end of the week.”

I agreed and left the room, my mind still churning over the bitter news about Lenai. Bloody

fool, as Kregan had said. And now anyone who’d socialised with him, or was related to him,
would fall under completely unnecessary suspicion, and maybe have their security gradings
lowered. So many lives altered because a single idiot had grown curious about a completely
confected, fraudulent religion. I wasn’t the most devout Marranite in Pindone, but at least it had
respectable roots in history, had a proper structure and belief system. Spiritists believed in
nothing, and existed to promote anarchy under the guise of communing with spirits—in other
words, talking to the dead. What drivel.

Darno was eager to show how cooperative he would be in working with me—Limiw must

have been bitching around the labs while I was at the conference—so I set him to do some
intense data analysis on our previous year’s test results. I simply couldn’t see why the therapy
didn’t work. The genes involved in paranormal ability and allied infertility had been isolated for
well over a decade, and we’d been able to suppress all but two, which remained stubbornly
resistant to everything we had thrown at them. No one had any idea why. No one had any idea
why so many people with the active gene didn’t go on to develop full paranormality. I was
infertile because of it, so was Timo, as were at least twenty percent of the identified infertility
cases in the country, though many more with the gene were completely fertile. Without
mandatory sperm donation registration, and hefty incentives for egg donation, Pindone’s
population would always hover on the edge of decline, so prevalent was this gene. Yet
paranormality itself was comparatively rare.

There was apparently no difference between the activation of the genes inside me and those

of the unfortunate Mas Neim. Yet he could make fire from nothing with a thought while I would
always need to use matches if I wanted to light a candle. Equally, nothing explained why
someone with his genetic profile had such minor pyrokinetic ability, and yet another with the
same profile could be a powerful and dangerous weapon, capable of wholesale destruction by
flame and fire. The sex differences between abilities were equally inexplicable. What were we
missing?

We were forced to use human subjects entirely, much to my regret. Humans were the only

species discovered to have the gene in any form at all, and all efforts to introduce the gene into
other mammals, or reproduce its effects, had failed. This slowed our work considerably. A wish
to somehow avoid using people as test rodents hung in my mind all morning as I combed through
data from our lab technicians and geneticists, and progress reports on allegedly better therapy
delivery methods.

Finally I’d had enough. “I’m going to visit our subjects from the last test round, see how

they’re getting on.”

Darno swung around on his chair in surprise. “Sir, the medics take the daily readings.”
“Yes, of course. I felt I should...it never hurts to add a personal touch.”
I could see him thinking ‘to paras?’ but he never said it. Darno wasn’t as overt as Limiw by a

long way, but if I rejected every assistant who looked down their nose at paranormals, I’d have
no one to work with. Darno was simply a product of his age. We all were.

“I’ll be back after lunch,” I told him, and headed out.
The entire medical wing of our building maintained tight security throughout, but especially

so around the pyrokinetics, of whom we had three in residence. The physical powers of
pyrokinesis and telekinesis were particularly useful for our purposes because we could be
completely certain when the therapy did or did not work. Telepaths were considered too
dangerous for clinical work because of the potential for subversion, while empathy was

worthless, being so cumbersome to test. I’d always thought it was so unfair to class empathy
alongside the demonstrably offensive abilities, but people were twitchy about anything
paranormal, and the role of empaths in Spiritism had damned them to the same fate as all the
others.

I passed the security checks, my biochip being read at three separate points, and had to

submit to a full body patdown as well as a metal scan. If I got this kind of treatment as a doctor, I
couldn’t imagine what civilians endured. But visitors to our paranormal residents were very rare.
Mas Neim almost certainly would have had none since his arrival.

The ward was a rather dingy place—clean, but decorated in drab grays and dull blue, with no

decorative features or paintings on the wall to relieve the worn paintwork. The beds were
segregated by sex, each resident having plenty of space, but not much in the way of luxury.
Shabby, half-empty shelves of old books sat in the corner near the entrance to the shared
bathroom, and beside each bed, a generous locker for the person’s possessions, but there were
none of the bright flowers or cards or little gifts one would see in a normal infirmary. I found
myself wishing I’d brought something with me to alleviate the drabness, but then reminded
myself I wasn’t there as a regular visitor.

Predictably, being near the peak of the viral vector infection, our subjects were all feeling

miserable. Three were asleep, but doing fine, the medic on duty assured me. A fourth—a female
telekinetic in her sixties—was reading. She smiled at me, though a little sadly, as I sat by her bed.
She held up the book—a cheap mystery novel, probably a staff cast-off.

“Haven’t read a book in years, doctor.”
“Been too busy, Mis Kolmi?”
She cocked her head as if my words puzzled her. “No. It’s the drug. I can’t concentrate well

enough to finish more than a page or so. Can’t remember complicated plots and such.”

My heart shrank a little in horror. This woman had once been a respected journalist and had

written for a living.

“If our research works, then you can read all the books you like again.”
“If. And if the government....” Her worn, lined features went blank as if she’d remembered

to whom she spoke. “That’d be nice, doctor.” She laid the book down. “I’m sorry. I’m rather
tired....”

“Of course. Another couple of days and you’ll feel much better, I swear.”
“Would it shock you to know this is the best I’ve felt in years?”
Shock, no. Sadden, yes. “Get some rest, Mis Kolmi. You’ve more than earned it.”
She closed her eyes, and though I doubted she was asleep, I was certainly dismissed.
I went into the men’s ward. Two of the three occupants were fast asleep. The third, Mas

Neim, looking frail and tired, stared towards the window in a rather vacant way. I almost
retreated without disturbing him, but he turned towards the sound of my footsteps.

“Arwe Jodimai?” he rasped.
“Hello, Mas Neim. How are you today?”
He coughed rather unpleasantly. “I’ve got a cold.”
I smiled. “Yes, I’m sorry about that.”
I came closer to his bed. By the door, the security guards tensed, but even with the display

the other day, he didn’t scare me. I’d worked with PKs too long for that.

His hands fluttered above the bed, and I moved in, worried I’d distressed him. He stared up

at me.

“Doctor, I want to apologise. I shouldn’t have...what I did that day. My Mam brought me up

better than that. I’m sorry.”

I took a seat in the chair next to the bed. “Accepted, though there’s no need. I know what

we’ve asked of you. What we’ve done to you.”

“I doubt that, young man. I don’t understand those bloody fools who take that drug for fun.

I’ve got two wishes before I die. To die free of this noose around my neck, and to see my son
again.” His lips thinned. “What are the chances of either, eh?”

“Where’s your son, Mas Neim?”
“No idea.”
“Your wife...divorced you?” I recalled mention in his notes of his once being married. So

many normal people divorced their para partners after the laws were changed, I assumed that had
happened in his case.

“She died. My boy—he was six. Took him off to be adopted by proper folk, and I never saw

him again. How old are you, doctor?”

“Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine this week.”
He grunted. It turned into a wet sounding cough from which took him some time to recover.

When he'd finished and had sipped some water, he nodded.

“Twenty-eight. Lotiwei would be that now. If he’s still alive. Not allowed to know, you see.

I’m no biological kin, and the Laws of Restriction invalidated my adoption. I’ve got no rights to
him at all.”

And yet the son’s sperm donor father did. “I’m sorry. How did your wife die?”
His mouth tightened in pain.
“Please, if it’s upsetting—”
“Arwe Jodimai,” he snapped quite suddenly, his voice more vigorous than I’d have thought

him capable of, “I told you not to treat me like a fool last week. I’m sick, not stupid. Asking a
man about his dead wife is always going to be upsetting. What kind of doctor are you?”

Stung by his words, I could only bow my head in shame. “Not a very sensitive one. I’m

sorry.”

“You should be. It’s that kind of attitude that killed her.”

I looked up.
“You doctors killed her.”
“That’s a pretty strong accusation, Mas Neim.”
“It’s the truth.” His stubbled jaw jutted stubbornly. “She started running a fever, began to

throw up. She was never sick, not like that, and it worried me. I took her to a clinic—had to go to
a para clinic because the ‘normal’ clinics wouldn’t touch me or any of my family.” He said
‘normal’ like a swear word. “Do you know what the para clinics are like, doctor? Overworked,
understaffed. The only people who’ll work in them are the medics who can’t get jobs anywhere
else. Febkeinzes, doctors who aren’t good enough for your people.”

“I’m aware paranormal clinics have problems. That’s not the same as the doctors killing

anyone.”

“No, but they did this time. Happens more often than not. We had to wait for hours to be

seen, and then the doctor, who could barely speak Pindoni spent about a minute examining her.
He told us she only had stomach flu, and to go home and rest. So I took her home, even though
she was so weak and sick she could barely walk. But she got worse. That night she woke up
screaming in pain. I called the clinic and they sent a medical veecle, but it took an hour to come
—an hour I had to watch her writhing around in agony. By the time she got to the clinic again,
her appendix had burst. There was no surgeon available to operate, but they told me there wasn’t
even any point. She died that morning. Because of me, what I am.”

He glared at me. “Because of you doctors and not thinking we were worth taking time over.

Because of the government and its shitting laws. I never hurt a soul, not even as a kid, playing
around. But because of this....” He held up his tattooed hand. “I’m guilty until proven worth
hanging. Sometimes I’m glad they took my boy, doctor. What kind of life could I give him?”

I bit my lip, too horrified to make a comment. He stared at me for a moment or two, then

slumped back.

“On the naksen, it doesn’t hurt so much,” he whispered. “Sometimes I can’t even remember

her name. Makes me all fuzzy, useless. I just wish...while I’m not on it, I could see him. Find out
if he’s...you know. Okay.”

I knew what he asked of me, and yes, it was in my power. But I lied for his sake and my

own. “I don’t have that kind of access, Mas Neim. I wish I did.”

He reached out for my hand. “Please...for mercy’s sake. I just want to know if he’s alive.”
“I can’t. I don’t have access. I could be imprisoned for even trying. Mas Neim...I wish...I

wish this hadn’t happened to you. But there’s nothing I can do, not now. Can’t you believe me?”

His eyes, so much older than his real age, welled with tears. “I’m sorry to ask. I...I just

thought maybe there was a chance you could. I shouldn’t....” He rubbed at his eyes. “I’m sorry.
Not fair to put you on the spot like that.”

And I was a despicable coward. “Is there anything else I can do? Anything at all?”

“Keep me off that drug? As long as you can?”
“That I can do.” Here I was on firmer ground. “I’ll find out if there are any trials going on

that need someone like you. We’re always short of volunteers. The only problem is that you’ve
started this therapy, but I can ask.”

“That’s something.” His fingers tightened on my wrist. “Glad my boy can’t see me like this.”
“I wish you didn’t have to feel that way. It’s my dream, you know. To help you all live

normal lives again.”

“They won’t let you succeed, doctor. None of us believe that.”
“You’re wrong, and I hope I can prove that to you one day.” I patted his hand, then gently

removed it from my own. “Get some rest. I’ll come by tomorrow. Is there anything you’d like?
Books? Skims? You can have any skim you like, just ask.”

“Never been much for those things. A good book. Anything. Something that’s not real.”
“I’ll get on that.” I stood. “You’ll feel better in a couple of days, I promise.”
He gave me a thin, sceptical smile and I left, unable to stand my own lies and his desperation

a moment longer.

One of the guards gave me a funny look, so I made the effort to smile. I didn’t want him

hurting Mas Neim because he imagined the man had harmed me. No, I’d harmed myself. I was a
coward and I would continue to be cowardly because I hadn’t lied about one thing. If they caught
me looking up that man’s son on the central adoption register, questions would be asked, and
then I’d be downgraded. In my line of work, that was as good as being made unemployable.
Being poor and under suspicion in Pindone was as bad as being a para. I couldn’t help anyone by
being chucked out of a job.

I made my way to the canteen, where people were beginning to wander in for their lunch. I

chose a salad and fish in sauce, but it all tasted like ashes to me. I forced myself to eat anyway,
just as I’d chosen my usual table near the window rather than a more secluded corner position. If
I started to act strangely after the oddness of a personal visit to a para, people would talk—and I
didn’t want that kind of attention.

I couldn’t get the man’s face out of my mind or the sound of his desperation. We, the people

of Pindone, the honest normal citizens, had done this to him. Broken his family, broken his pride,
and all because of a theoretical threat from a group which was, for the most part, completely
harmless and always had been. Yes, a major TK had attacked a president, and plenty of evidence
proved the Spiritists acted as a front for terrorism, but the average paranormal hadn’t been
involved in any of that.

Saying that out loud would get me questioned by the Nats, but they couldn’t read my

thoughts. Just as well, I thought gloomily, poking a bit of fish. Fortunately, National Security
would never hire a telepath, or there’d be a lot of people in this city in deep, deep shit.

“Jodi? Are you all right?”

I jerked upright and found Ajeile staring at me.
“Uh...I’m fine. I overdid it on the weekend, and it’s catching up with me.” She had a tray in

her hand. “Do you want to join me?” I’d nearly finished, but I could spin things out with a mug
of khevai. That was what I would normally do, so I did it.

She smiled, and I was off the hook. By the time she’d finished eating, and I’d regaled her

with a couple of funny stories about my days at the Academy, she’d forgotten my moodiness. I
was relieved when I could finally announce I had to get back to work.

The search button on the viewcom at my desk mocked me. I had the access, but I had no

excuse. Every employee’s access was logged, and not just as a formality either. If I gave in to
temptation, I wouldn’t be helping Neim. I’d only feed his grief. Then I’d lose my job and not be
able to do a damn thing for him or any other para.

I took the papers off my desk and walked over to the comfortable chair by the window, the

one we kept for when Kregan dropped in on us. I had to stop thinking about this. The facts were
clear, the tragedy was old. I did my best for his kind, and that was all that counted. I wouldn’t
throw that away like Lenai.

I struggled with my thoughts and my conscience until the normal end of working hours—

early for me to leave but I could plead a headache which was fast becoming the truth. I was glad
to escape to the privacy of my house, but between Mas Neim and Lenai, I couldn’t settle down to
think. I needed a distraction, some release. I hadn’t made it to the Low Town over the weekend,
and I wasn’t prepared to risk it now. But I had other options. I dressed in my running clothes and
headed out.

The autumn wind had a definite bite to it, and to stand still in it was unpleasant. In another

month, when the snows started, I wouldn’t be able to do this at all. I’d have to get my exercise
another way. For now, I could run through Herbiun, the fashionable outer suburb where I’d lived
for the last five years, down the gentle slopes to the river park where there was a long running
track and facilities. During the day, particularly on the weekend, it was the popular place for
families—too far from the city for any of the poor to hang around for handouts or drug dealers to
ply their trade, close enough that even veecle hire was inexpensive. In the winter when the
shallow pools and lakes froze over, there’d be skaters at any hour, day or night, braving the cold
to show off their skills. But now a different kind of sport was being played out.

I had to be careful. Some areas were far too obvious—men standing around, making no

pretense at being there for anything other than what they were, out under the public lighting, even
carrying their own portable lamps. Homosexuality wasn’t a crime—but prostitution was, and the
security officers were most likely to pounce in this area. Even if they made a mistake, a
reputation could be lost in an instant.

A little further along the river, anyone running was as likely to be out for evening exercise as

anything else, and the risk of getting it wrong—and the public humiliation and possible press

exposure—was too high. I had to run more than a temidec before I spotted someone I guessed
needed as much discretion as I did—a dark-haired man, wearing rather grotty running shoes and
pants, pacing himself along the river’s edge.

He had a runner’s build, and he moved like he wasn’t faking it, but as I caught up with him,

he turned and gave me a look from under long lashes that couldn’t be misinterpreted. He said
nothing as I matched step with him for another half demidec. Nice, I thought wistfully. I hadn’t
had a running partner since Timo got married. For those brief minutes, I let myself imagine that I
was a carefree student again, Timo at my side, with the world at our feet. But when my
companion turned towards a dark, dense planting of low trees and shrubs, I followed.

The light was bad—I could barely make out his teeth in the gloom—but that didn’t slow him

down. I found myself edged against a tree.

“Blow me,” he whispered, his voice rough and a little common sounding. I sank to my knees,

his hands guiding me down, not shoving me, and though he quickly got his pants open and his
cock out, he waited until I was ready.

“Condom?” I could take no risks.
“Sure.” He fumbled at his pocket, and his teeth flashed again as he tore the packet open. He

went to roll it on. I took it from his hand. “Okay.” I heard the smile in his voice.

His cock felt hot and hard and perfect in my hand, and I regretted I had to cover it, but I did.

He sucked in a breath as I took him in, but he still held back, almost like he was scared to hurt me
by thrusting. I shoved my hand up between his legs and squeezed carefully as I sucked. He
bucked into my grip and into my mouth, and I sucked harder. I wanted a reaction. I wanted to
make a difference to someone in a good way at least once on this shitty day.

He kept stroking my cheeks as I blew him, which was weird but nice. Most guys wouldn’t

touch me at all. His hands were calloused and hard, but gentle too. When he came, I kept my
mouth on him, letting him caress me like we were really lovers, but only for a second or two.
Then I let him go and stood up. He could do the clean up, which he did, the condom tied and into
a handkerchief with a speed that told me he’d done that more than a couple of times. He shoved it
into an outer pocket, and then put his hands on my shoulders, pushing me back against the tree.

For a moment, a gut-knotting rush of intense fear took hold of me—I thought he was about

to beat me up, but he only wanted to look me in the eye. Then, to my utter shock, he hugged me.
Too astonished to protest or push him off, I let him...to be honest, it made me tear up, which
horrified me. Was I that starved of intimacy that a hug from a complete stranger affected me like
this?

“Stop it.” I shoved him back—not hard, just enough to let him know I was serious. “My

turn.”

He grinned, the distant light catching on teeth and moistened lips, his dark eyes a flicker of

reflection. “I know. I was just being—”

“I don’t want that.”
“Yeah, right.” His hand snaked inside the waist of my pants, got a grip on my cock with

perfect skill. “But you want this, don’t you?”

“Sh-shut up.” I thrust into his rough, horn-skinned hand as he squeezed and stroked me into a

depressingly quick orgasm, less intense than I could have given myself at home, but here I had
the heat of a male body hard up against mine, and the masculine scent of sweat and semen and
his own natural odour. I half wanted to rub myself against him, to get that aroma on me, so I
could smell it all the way home until I showered, but I didn’t.

He shoved my pants down and without asking, took my own handkerchief from my pocket to

wipe his hand. I accepted it from him with a slight grimace, though I minded less than I ought to,
and put it back in my pocket. He dragged my pants back up, patted me to make sure I was
‘sitting’ right, and then put his hands on my shoulders again.

“Thanks,” he whispered. That shocked me too. No one had said that to me before. “You feel

better now, don’t you?”

I stared. “What do you mean by that?” This guy was really weird, talking so much. I started

to feel a little threatened.

He grinned. “You mean you don’t? Man, I’m doing something wrong.”
I relaxed. His idea of a joke. “No, it was fine. Could you let me go now?”
He stepped back, wiping his hands on his pants, completely casual. He probably didn’t care

too much if he got caught. I did.

I turned and ran back to the path, and up it. The wet handkerchief in my pocket against my

thigh wasn’t pleasant, but I didn’t care. After a few seconds, I heard the sound of running feet.
When I glanced back, it was him, apparently intent on finishing his run. He caught up with me
easily, even though I had longer legs. I tensed up, expecting some comment, but he said nothing.
We ran in silence all along the riverbank, two runners out for their exercise.

When he parted from me as the path began to rise towards the suburbs, all I could remember

was his red hair, and how soft his hands had felt on me.

~~~

That night, fire filled my dreams, and so did dead children. I woke with tears running down

my face. I had no idea where the imagery had come from, but even awake, I could still see it.
Almost smell it.

Though dawn hadn’t yet broken, I got up, shivering from the memory of my nightmares. I

made khevai, my stomach rebelling at the thought of food, and indulged myself in some anger
towards Mas Neim for his manipulation. So obvious now, what his motive for volunteering had
been, and had he encountered Lenai, the man might have possibly got his wish, which would
have damned both of them.

But after the first flash of antagonism, I knew I was being unfair. I’d never been in his

situation—forcibly drugged and marked, unemployed, unemployable, not only him but those
under his care treated like second class citizens and penalised for it. I’d never lost a child, and
would never know what that was like. In fact, he’d taken a hell of a risk asking me. If I’d reported
him, he’d have been whisked off to prison with very little process. There never was with paras,
the legal system in no hurry to free even those wrongly jailed. He’d put himself in danger,
endured the misery of naksen withdrawal and our gene therapy trial, all on the slimmest chance
of finding a sympathetic doctor with the right access. And when he had...I’d still turned him
down.

Guilt took me to my viewcom and a book company. I placed an enormous order, paid extra

for half of it to be delivered today, the rest later in the week, and hoped that Mas Neim, having
tried and failed in his desperate plan, might now concentrate on looking after himself. I’d have to
see what I could do for him in that line—I could justify it by his usefulness to our research.
Willing pyrokinetics were always worth having on call.

Ajeile smiled at me when I turned up at work, commented on how tired I looked, and was I

sure I wasn’t coming down with something? I said that I was fine but I hadn’t slept well. “I need
some relaxation. The concert will help.”

That reminder won another smile from her, and I made to walk on.
“Jodi, have you heard about Lenai? They’re saying he’s been arrested.”
I froze. “Who’s saying that?”
She leaned back a little in her chair as if I’d frightened her. “Uh...people. You haven’t

heard?”

“No. And I think your information’s incorrect. Talking about this might bring unwanted

attention on you, Ajeile. I’d hate to see that happen.”

Her expression closed off and she looked down at the papers on her desk as though afraid to

meet my eyes. Did she think I threatened her? “I won’t talk about it. But you know he left?”

“Arwe Kregan let me know yesterday. Lenai’s been seconded to another department who

needs his help. Saying more than that is idle gossip, and vicious.” I made the effort to smile,
though I felt more like growling. “I know you’d hate to see a man’s career destroyed over that.”

“I would. I’m sorry, Jodi.”
“Just...don’t spread it around, Ajeile. We’re all a team here.”
But I had to wonder if anyone here had exposed Lenai, and if they were the ones spreading

the rumours now. I’d have delved more but I didn’t want to encourage the discussion at all.

“There’s a delivery of books for the medical wing arriving this morning. Let me know when

they arrive, please?”

“Books?” Her pleasant face screwed up in confusion.
“For the research subjects. We’re already asking them to be made sick for our purposes, but

they don’t need to be bored to death. Consider it part of the care and feeding.”

I kept my tone light as if it were of no consequence. She smiled uncertainly. She’d probably

tell people—I’d prepared my cover story, and as it was a general gift, I didn’t think anyone would
directly connect me to Mas Neim. If they did, his history was sorrowful enough that even Limiw
might understand.

The books arrived before lunch, and I took the parcel up to the medical wing in person. Mis

Kolmi and her fellow patients fell on the books like starving men onto a pile of fresh bread. I
carefully kept my distance and offered a rather dismissive explanation to the duty medic, saying
in my most haughty educated accent that it was about time the library was freshened up. We
couldn’t allow people in our custody to sit around reading trashy novels. He agreed
sympathetically that we had a duty to maintain some standards, even if they were only paras. I
didn’t let him see my reaction to that comment.

Mas Neim was asleep, to my intense relief. I spoke briefly to the other occupants of the

ward, left the books, and fled. I’d technically kept my promise, even if it would bring him no real
solace. I told myself I’d return later that week, and hopefully with news about longer residence in
the facility.

Darno made a comment about Lenai. I said the same thing to him as I had to Ajeile. Probably

pointless, but as someone with a vested interest in discouraging malicious chatter, I tried to step
on it whenever I could. I’d always done this, like a bloody hypocrite—using office gossip to
promote my supposed heterosexuality, while making my distaste for it clear when pressed. I
sometimes wondered if I would have been happier if I’d been born a paranormal. No one cared
about paras being deevs. I’d never have had a career, but I might have found a soulmate. Living
like Mas Neim wasn’t worth that, though.

My sexual frustrations took up far too much of my energy lately, colouring all my thinking,

and no doubt why I was vulnerable to becoming overinvested in Mas Neim’s sad history and
Lenai’s foolishness. I had vacation time due in two months. I sent a message to Staff
Management and formally booked three weeks off, even before I’d made arrangements to go
anywhere. I had several choices, and if I didn’t get a chance to let off steam and live without the
fear of exposure at least for a little while, I’d end up burned out, as Kregan feared. The leave
booking made, some of my tension eased. That evening, I’d start researching holiday
destinations. Something pleasant to look forward to.

I had good news to bring to Mas Neim when I called in up at the medical ward. I received a

report from the duty medic that he and all the subjects from the most recent trial were all doing
well and almost completely recovered. I found him in the little solarium, enjoying the autumnal
sun. He had one of my new books in his lap and he smiled as I came in, raising the book a little as
I sat down.

“You never let me thank you.”
“You just did. Are you feeling better?”

“Almost normal.” I couldn’t detect any hostility behind the loaded word—he seemed much

more at peace. “Happy birthday.”

“How—”
He grinned. “Heard one of the medics grousing about missing out on some birthday feast or

other. You said it was yours this week—I put two and two together. I’m not daft.”

“No, you’re not. Are you enjoying the book?” It wasn’t one of the light fantasy stories I’d

selected, but a history of our country I thought Mis Kolmi might like.

“It’s fine. History’s all different from when I was a boy, though. I remember...I know I was

told about a time when people like me were heroes. When we lived in peace with your kind, and
were valued. But it’s not in this.” He tapped the book. “Was I imagining it?”

I’d grown up during the terrors. The book he held was one I’d used in senior school. I’d

never heard anyone talk about a time when paras weren’t considered dangerous—the idea seemed
unlikely to me. They used to live under fewer restrictions, but their kind had a long and bloody
history. He felt badly treated, but they used to burn paranormals, bury them alive, kill them in
their beds so they couldn’t use their powers to defend themselves. Naksen was kinder than that.

“History gets revised all the time,” I said. “Perhaps they’ve done more research.”
“Is that how it works?” he murmured. “Never was much for clever stuff. I learned my

lessons and did my schoolwork, then I left as soon as I could. My wife...she was the clever one.”

His eyes clouded in sadness so I hurried up and told him my news. “I’ve managed to arrange

another six weeks here, after our trial finishes. I might even be able to get you a permanent spot
helping us. Would you like that?”

“No drugs?”
“Not while you’re here, no. I can’t make any promises, though. How do you feel about that?”
“I think that’s wonderful. Thank you.” He reached out a weathered hand to touch my knee.

“It’s your birthday and you’re giving all the gifts. I’ve got nothing to repay you with.”

“You’ve given your help, Mas Neim. That’s much more than many people would do.”
“Call me Neim, doctor. It makes me feel too old to be a title.”
“Then call me Jodi...er, unless there’s a medic around,” I added in a low voice. “They’re a

bit sticky about these things.”

“And you don’t want to be seen to be too nice to the likes of me.”
I started guiltily. “That’s not—”
He held up a hand. “It’s all right, Jodi. You’ve done more than most would. But you better

run along or they’ll talk. I hope you enjoy the rest of your birthday.”

“Thanks. You...enjoy your book. Let me know if you need anything.”
His sad eyes said what his voice did not—I’d denied him the only thing he really wanted.

But his gratitude seemed genuine and I left with a clearer conscience. A life as a test subject
wasn’t what I’d want for anyone, but it was far, far better than living in poverty and illness, or

drinking himself into an early grave. If I could grant him one of his two wishes, that was better
than nothing, wasn’t it?

I had a chance to talk to Timo about it that night, after his boys had run us all ragged, wildly

excited about birthday presents and lucky pies. Hana and Timo hauled them off to bed and, I
gathered, had a hell of a time getting them to calm down.

Timo emerged after nearly an hour, saying Hana was reading to them. When he asked me

how the research was going, I pretty much blurted out everything that had been on my mind,
included Lenai’s abrupt ‘secondment’ and my moral dilemma over Neim.

He insisted I’d done exactly the right thing and for the right reasons. “Jodi, for all you know,

he’s a spy for the Nats.”

“He’s a para, Timo.”
He arched an eyebrow at me. “You’re about to offer him a job because he’s useful. What’s

stopping them doing the same thing?”

“You didn’t see him. He was heartbroken. I checked on his wife. She really did die the way

he said, and his son was adopted out. That was in his records, no secret about that.”

“I’m not saying his story wasn’t true—just that he could have been recruited to test you. You

have to be careful. None of us working for the government are safe—no one at all is. Look at this
Lenai chap.”

“He was consorting with terrorists,” I snapped.
“Says who? Kregan? Kregan, a department head in the Nats Medical Research arm? Jodi, do

you really have any idea if he’s telling you the truth?”

I paused. All I had was my gut instinct, as I had with Neim. “I trust him.”
“Which is fine. But the only person you can really know isn’t lying to you, is you.”
“And you.”
He smiled. “Okay, and me. Your parents, your sisters. But Kregan’s not kin, neither is Neim.

Don’t lose everything because you’re too willing to trust.”

“Marra’s nipples, I’m not! I know Neim was playing me, but I think his motives were

straightforward. I don’t think Kregan had a reason to lie. If he was, then there’s no consequence
for me anyway. Are you trying to make me paranoid?”

He reached for my wrist and held it. “I’m trying to make you careful. Because if anything

happened to you...it’d be like losing Hana, or the boys. Damn it, Jodi—don’t ever think it would
be a good idea to throw your life away for someone you’ve never met before. What would that do
to me?”

His deep blue eyes were as solemn as the day his father died, and I’d come to the house to

comfort him. I could never bear to see him in pain. I’d known him almost all my life, loved him
since he and I were teenagers.

“I swear I won’t take any stupid risks. I didn’t this time, didn’t you notice?”

He let out a breath. “You were tempted.”
“No, I wasn’t. I felt guilty for not being able to help. Not the same thing. I want to help him,

but not at any price. He’s just another human being. You don’t care about him being a para,
surely.”

“No, I don’t. I care that he might get you into trouble.” He made a playful whack at the side

of my head. “You’re a worry, Jodimai hon Belwin.”

“You’re neurotic, Paltimo hon Darmo.”
“Your professional assessment, Arwe Jodi?”
“Yep.”
“What is?” Hana came into the room and stood looking at the two of us, her hands on her

hips.

“Your husband’s a bit mad.”
She came up to him and put her arm around his waist. “Oh, I know that. Or he’d never have

married me.” Timo grinned at her. “We need to find someone crazy for you to marry, Jodi. Only
insane people do that and have kids.”

“All too true,” I said lightly. Hana didn’t know my secret—only Timo did, of all the people I

was close to—so she constantly fretted about my single state. “I wonder if the young lady I’m
taking out tomorrow to the Kladi concert is crazy enough for me.”

“The Kladi concert? You had tickets? You horrible man!” She smacked my arm and glared.
“But...but...the kids!”
“For Kladi tickets, I’d have sold them into slavery! Timo! Tell him!”
“She’s right. She’d definitely have sold them into slavery.” He yelped as she smacked him.

“Well, darling, what do you want me to say? Jodi’s money, Jodi’s time.”

“But the Kladi concert....” She gave me an exaggerated pout. “You get me their new skim

and I’ll forgive you.”

I bowed deeply. “Of course, my lady Hana. Autographed, if I manage it.”
“Hah. Believe it when I see it. Timo, the alcohol. No birthday parties without drinks. It’s the

house rule.”

Chapter Three

Talking to Timo helped—always did. The concert the following night was every bit as good

as predicted—a bomb scare in the middle of the show only delayed matters by half an hour,
which wasn’t long as such things went—and the audience contained some truly beautiful men
which added to my enjoyment. I had to spend the night with Ajeile, but I escaped spending the
weekend on account of my mother’s previous command that I catch a rollo to their house out in
Zania. I cried off spending both days of the weekend with my parents by claiming I had a
research paper to review before Gifir and which I’d neglected through my own stupidity.

I couldn’t escape going to Temple with her and my younger sister, Warna, even though my

father had somehow managed to excuse himself. I’d sometimes thought of revealing my
infertility to my mother as a way of making her give up on trying to turn me into a proper Child
of Marra, but given her views, that might have caused her to give up on me altogether. Children
of Marra were notorious for shunning anyone who didn’t meet their narrow requirements for
sanctity, and Mam was unbalanced enough that I didn’t know if she’d go that far.

I didn’t know how Da put up with all the religious crap in the house now. I guessed he did as

I did—remembered the time before Mam converted and turned Warna into her willing acolyte,
and hoped one day she’d get over it. It had been five years since she’d joined the Children. No
sign yet of her devotion waning. Da was devout too, but nothing like Mam. I’d never confessed
to either of them that I was practically an atheist these days, but there was a lot they didn’t know
about me. Easier to play the dutiful son, and limit the visits to the bare minimum. Returning to
my house felt like escaping from prison. I loved my parents, but they had no idea who I was any
more.

I felt better able to face the week. It turned out to be a highly productive, if rather busy one.

Limiw’s literature search had uncovered some interesting and overlooked work by some
researchers in Darsino, and after going through the tedium of getting permission to approach
foreign researchers, we could start a useful dialogue. Normally the Darsinis came looking for our
assistance, since Pindone led the world in genetic research (if one discounted what might be
going on in the Weadenal, a closed shop to any Pindoni), but this team had reported an unusual
and apparently useless side effect of a drug they’d been testing. Darno had pointed out the
potential benefit to our work.

Busy as we were, I found time over that week and the succeeding one, to visit our trial

subjects. They had all fully recovered, and were tested each day to see if their paranormal
abilities had been altered. A new round of testing was due to start as soon as this group was
released.

I was careful not to spend more time with Neim than with any of the other patients, but he

understood why, and always said he appreciated my dropping in. He and the others were
devouring the books to the point where I dared to suggest to Kregan a small amount should be
extracted from departmental funds to pay for more. He agreed without argument, only
commenting that it was ridiculous no one had brought the matter to his attention before, and then
told me not to be late for dinner that night at his house.

The time until the end of the trial surely went much more slowly for our subjects than it did

for me, but finally we made our last readings. Encouragingly, there actually seemed to be some
response, although very slight. In Neim’s case, his powers were unchanged—but once the
readings were complete, I checked the double blind register and discovered he’d been given the
dummy therapy after all. I couldn’t reveal that, of course, but in the face of his disappointment, I
could be optimistic about the next trial he’d be involved in. His sinecure was still in the process
of being approved, but Kregan saw no reason for it to be turned down. Similar offers had been
made in the past to paranormals.

“It’ll mean being interned up north, at least for a while,” I explained. “Not a prison. A secure

facility. The conditions are good. I’ve heard that from people I trust.”

“Better than the street at least. Can I take the books?”
“Not these—they’re for the ward. But tell me the ones you want and I’ll arrange those to be

ordered for you up there.”

We were back in the solarium. He looked better than I’d seen him in the past three weeks.

The cold long banished, with the lack of naksen and alcohol, and balanced meals, he was
probably as healthy as he’d been in a very long time. “But it’s not right away, is it?”

“Not at all. We still need you here. At least another month, probably more like two.”
He smiled, and it occurred to me that it was the most open expression I’d seen on his

roughened features. It gave me a glimpse of the man he’d been before all this—the young father,
husband, carpenter, honest citizen. I had kept trying to justify what had been done to him, and in
the end, I couldn’t. It was cruel and ultimately unnecessary. There was nothing I could do about
it, except what I had. “Do you think they might let me work? In the facility?”

“As a carpenter? I don’t know. I don’t know what the inma...er...patients do. Want me to find

out?”

“At some point. No rush. I’ve got weeks, you said yourself. Thank you, Jodi. I feel like a

man again. Like the man she wanted me to be.”

“I’m sure she’d want you to be happy, Neim.”
“I remember that story, you know. The one about the paranormals. There was a terrible war,

and the paranormals brought peace without anyone being killed. The people called it a miracle.
Built statues to us and everything. I think it was in Darsino, a long time ago. I remember the
teacher telling us and me feeling so proud of my kind. But it’s not in the books now. Do you

think it could be true?”

A very specific memory, so I thought he probably remembered something that he’d really

been told, but whether the teacher made it up, who knew?

“I think...in the past, paranormals may not always have been the enemy. You’re not my

enemy now.”

“No, I’m not. What a grand thing though—to bring peace without anyone being hurt.”
He smiled to himself, and if it made him happy, I wouldn’t argue with him. “Yes, it is.” I

patted his shoulder. “The next trial will start at the end of next week. You should get lots of rest,
keep up with the exercise regime, and eat properly. The better shape you’re in, the less the viral
infection will knock you about.”

“I’ll manage. Enjoy your weekend.”
“I will.”
I left him sitting in the sun, eyes closed, an expression of contentment on his face. If he was a

spy, I’d eat my right thumb.

~~~

I got the call on Parne morning—the department had a veecle at my door twenty minutes

later. To my surprise I found Kregan waiting for me. He drew me into my own office before
speaking.

“Jodi, I’m sorry.”
“Why?” I stared at him, unable to comprehend the news, unable to understand why Kregan

was here and commiserating with me over it. “He...he was happy. I’d got him a place where he
didn’t have to take the naksen. I don’t understand. Where were the guards?”

“They don’t follow people into the bathroom. He went to shower...used the cord on the light

switch to...to strangle himself. They tried to revive him but it had been too long.”

I fell into the armchair, bewildered and grief-stricken. “Why would he do that now? When

I’d given him a chance.”

“Jodi, he left you a note, in the book he was reading. I...took the liberty of removing it before

the guards saw it. I thought it best not to tie you into this.”

I looked up at him, blinking in confusion as he handed me a piece of paper. I unfolded it—

the handwriting was unfamiliar, but when would I have ever seen Neim write?

Jodi, I wanted to die happy and sober. Now I can. Good luck, and thank you.
I put my head in my hands, tears in my eyes.
“No. It’s not my fault. I didn’t...he killed himself because of me?”
Kregan put his hand on my shoulder, an unfamiliar gesture from him. “No.”
“We did this. We made him like that. I killed him.” I could still see his face, that look of

peace. Had he been planning to do this to me then? His revenge on a ‘normal’ doctor, the people
who’d killed his wife? “I killed him. I didn’t mean to but I—”

Kregan shook me roughly by the shoulder. “Stop it, Jodi. You didn’t kill him. Look at me.”
I stared up into his weird eyes, blinking away the tears as I wiped my nose with my hand.
“What we do to paranormals is cruel, no question. The threat they pose is too great to ignore,

but the innocent are punished for the guilty. I know it, you know it. But you and I are working to
change that. You have to believe that. You can’t allow yourself to be distracted by an individual,
however tragic their story. It was a mistake to befriend that last group. I don’t know why you did
after all these years on this work.”

“I....” I pulled my handkerchief out and blew my nose with a shaking hand. “I just.... I’m a

doctor, sir. I got into medicine to help people. I wanted to remind myself that was what I was
doing. And it killed him.” I hid my eyes behind my hand. “Sorry...it’s shock.”

“Yes, I know. I knew you’d take this personally, that’s why I wanted to be here to tell you.

Jodi, you have got to make sure you don’t lose sight of what we’re doing here.”

“We’re doing nothing, sir. Five years on this one task and nothing.”
“Yet. We’ll succeed, I know we will. We’re so damn close I can taste it. But you have to be

in it for the long haul, or you’re no use to me. Are you?”

“Yes, sir,” I whispered and he nodded. “Sir...the body. What’ll happen to it?”
“A publicly-funded cremation, standard procedure. Relatives will be notified, though I

believe he had no surviving kin listed on his record.”

“There was one....” I drew in a breath. “He had a son—a son with his late wife, who was

adopted out when she died. He...uh...asked me to help him locate the boy. I refused...Marra, if I’d
only done it, he’d be alive....”

“Jodi, stop it! You did the right thing. Jodi!”
He shook me really hard, and I looked at him in shock. Kregan didn’t touch people like this

at all. “If you’d done as he’d asked, you’d have been arrested. I’d have had to have you arrested.
The son would be at least your age, most likely not wanting any contact with a para father or any
reminder of a sad childhood? What would that have done to him?” I hadn’t even thought of that.
“You did the right thing. Mas Neim made his choice and there’s no going back on it now. You
can’t second guess the past.”

I nodded, still choked up, still wondering if I’d said or done something to trigger Neim’s

suicide. I couldn’t reconcile the last sight I’d had of him, and the desperation that led him to
choke himself to death on a fucking light switch cord.

“Can I ask a favour, sir? Can we attempt to contact the son now?”
“To what purpose, Jodi? To bring more misery into his life?”
“No...I want to tell him that his Da loved him, right up to the end. Maybe he grew up not

knowing that.”

His harsh features softened with something that looked like pity. “I’m going to refuse for two

reasons. One—you don’t need that. Two—you don’t know what you might stir up. Let the man

rest. His fight’s over.”

I clenched my fist on my knee. “Yes, sir. Permission to leave a note of contact on the son’s

adoption file, should he ever enquire about his father?”

“Yes, you can do that.” He didn’t sound pleased about it, though. “You realise if the son’d

had that kind of question in his mind, he could have found his father again. If he’d really wanted
to.”

“Maybe he will in the future.”
“Maybe so.”
He looked me over, noted my red, runny nose, my sobbing breath, and made the correct

assessment that I wasn’t fit to do any more.

“I’m sending you home, and telling you to take two days off. Things will be shut down

anyway while we reassess procedures, carry out the investigation. I’ll tell people I’ve interviewed
you and found nothing improper in your handling of these subjects. Which is true. But I’m going
to suggest rather forcefully that you do not get close to your trial subjects again, do you hear me?
Nearly every person we use will have a sad story to tell, misery that we’re responsible for as a
society. You can’t do a damn thing about it, Jodi. Not that way.”

“I only gave them some books.”
“And visited and talked, and worried about their futures...you think I didn’t notice?”
I looked away.
“You did nothing wrong. But that wasn’t enough. Step back, keep away, stick to the

impersonal. I’m making it an order.”

“Yes, sir.”
“Go home. Don’t spend the day on your own.”
“No, sir.” I got to my feet, feeling about a hundred years old. “Can I pay my respects?”
He sighed quietly. “If you insist. He’s in the mortuary. Briefly, Jodi. Then go home and put

this behind you for the sake of the people you’ll be redeeming once we crack this.”

“Yes, sir.”
I wanted to believe him. Maybe in a few hours I would, but at that moment...I was numb.

Later, I’d be angry. But Neim wouldn’t be there to hear me yell at him. Bloody stupid fool. I
wanted you to live, damn you!

Kregan kindly arranged a veecle to get me back to the house, and took the unusual step of

telling me to call him at home if I needed to. His concern touched me, but didn’t absolve me. I
wished I hadn’t gone to see Neim’s body. I’d seen strangling victims before, but never one I’d
known while alive. I was glad in a way that his son—wherever he was—would never have that
vision in his mind. I wished I could erase it from mine.

Despite Kregan’s injunction, I spent the rest of the morning on my own because I couldn’t

face anyone. I tried to call Timo in the afternoon, but he was out. I trusted no one else to share

my thoughts with on this, who wouldn’t judge Neim, or wouldn’t hold back from telling me he’d
died because of me. I needed someone to tell me that. I didn’t want to be told that it wasn’t my
fault. Kregan would never blame one of his own over a para. He was loyal and protective of all of
us as far as he could be under the law. He’d stuck his neck out, removing that note. I kept looking
at it, trying to work out why Neim would kill himself when he was happy. I couldn’t.

My communicator buzzed around three, when I had started on a second slow glass of

temlido, having got myself into a complete funk.

It was my mother.
“Jodimai? Why are you home on a fine day like this?”
“Why are you calling, Mam, when you thought I’d be out?”
Logic had never been her strong suit. Strange to think she’d been a medic before we kids had

started to arrive.

“Don’t be snippy with me, young man. Respect for one’s parents is one of the seven virtues.”
I repressed a sigh. “Sorry. Did you want something?”
“Jodimai, is something wrong? You’re being terribly sharp.” I stared at her screen-flattened

features, feeling the alcohol, grief, a creeping numbness. I wasn’t up to duelling with her. “Very
well. There’s the Festival of Grace in Light next weekend. Your father and I would appreciate
you coming home and attending temple with us. Everyone from town will be there.”

Something broke inside me, and my reply came without any conscious thought. “Really.” I

didn’t bother to mute the sarcasm in my voice.

“What do you mean by that remark, Jodimai?”
“Everyone, Mam? Every single person in the settlement? Even Huroi?”
She huffed a bit. “Well, obviously not Huroi. None of the paras—”
“Right. So that’s a lie right there. Doesn’t Marra consider that a sin?”
“Don’t you dare—”
“And Da wants me to come? Don’t make me laugh. He thinks Grace in Light is a load of

shit, same as I do. It’s all a load of shit!” I started waving my arms around in my anger, the
temlido sloshing out of my glass as my voice got louder. “In fact, Mam, Marra’s a load of shit
too! Marranism, Marra, the Children, the Temple—all worthless, lying garbage!”

“Jodimai!”
I stood there, shaking in my anger and my grief. “And you know what else, Mam?”
“Go on.” She used that deadly cold tone with Da when she was spoiling for a fight.
“I’m infertile. So it doesn’t matter how many shitting times I go to Temple, I’m never going

to get into the Kingdom according to you, so why waste my time sucking up to Marra or you or
the Children? That’s right. Infertile. Punished by your god, like Huroi. How do you like that,
Mam? Your genes are tainted by sin too.”

The screen went blank, and then The other caller has terminated flashed up. I laughed and

turned the communicator onto messages only and the notifier down to silent. Then I knocked
back the rest of my temlido and grabbed my coat. If I didn’t go out, I’d end up like Neim, choked
to death in my own bathroom.

The Low Town didn’t refer to the fact it sat further down the mountain than the rest of the

old city—other parts clung lower still to the slopes—but to the fact the ‘low’ types hung out
there. Traditionally the place of prostitutes and gamblers and other miscreants, now most of the
paras in Vizinken lived there, along with other members of society who the Children of Marra
and the more devout religionists disapproved of—like homosexuals. Some drug dealing took
place there, but paras tended to drive dealers out of their immediate neighbourhoods, not liking
the activity or the attention. Mostly the drugs were dealt in the north end of the city—or
anywhere actual criminality occurred. The Low Town was poor rather than criminal, but still, no
respectable, normal citizen went anywhere near it.

I was normal, but I wasn’t respectable—I just passed for it—and sometimes I felt more at

home in the Low Town than I did in my own comfortable, family-friendly suburb. I wouldn’t
normally go there during the day, or in the middle of summer—scarves and hats acted as useful
covers when a person didn’t want to advertise their presence—but it was too early to go down by
the river. So I jammed a cap on my head and turned my collar up as I got out of the veecle a half-
demidec from the area. Veecles would only rarely take a fare to the Low Town, and asking would
draw attention I didn’t need. A risk, certainly. A necessary outlet too.

I slipped down the grimy alleys, amazed as always that, though run down, they were more

free of litter than the ‘respectable’ parts of the city. No children played on the streets. No para or
their partner had been allowed to adopt or have a child through assisted insemination or egg
donation since the terrors started, so the youngest anyone claiming a paranormal parent could be,
was twenty-five. The non-paranormal residents were uninclined to breed—or at least keep their
children—for other reasons. People could be seen, many moving in a shuffling, aimless way
caused by naksen, alcohol or both. A few moved with more purpose, like me, but we seemed out
of place here.

I headed to a smoke joint cum private club—a rarity in Vizinken, though common elsewhere.

To gain entry to this club, you had to know the secret—you didn’t apply for membership. Instead
you went to the liquor shop a few doors up the road and asked for a bottle of your favourite drink.
Offering twice the cost got you the bottle and a ticket, unless the owner didn’t know you, didn’t
like the look of you, smelled Security or the defs, or you were too cheap in your tastes. In those
cases, you got change.

I was given the ticket. It was a way around licensing laws—the club didn’t sell alcohol, and

that meant avoiding the routine licensing inspections—but also remarkably effective at keeping
out trouble, and the reason I thought the club was worth the occasional risk. I badly needed a
place to go today where I could be as true to my real nature as I dared.

I’d bought a bottle of temlido—it was too cold for jada, and besides I was in a mood for

something stronger—and shoved it into the pocket of my coat before walking a little way down
the road to the club itself. I put the ticket through a slot in the club’s old wooden door, and after a
few moments, it opened a crack and I slipped inside.

The sickly-sweet odour of jetka weed drifted out to greet me. The smell could overwhelm a

person until one’s nose got used to it—or shut down—but the muted traces of it I detected
weren’t too unpleasant. The smoke room was at the back, but I had no taste for jetka. I’d tried it
while a student once or twice, but it had only made me cough up a lung.

In front of the club sat a rough-looking food bar where you could order a cheap and filling

meal, khevai to go with. The owners discouraged the drinking of alcohol in this part of the club.
A mainly male clientele frequented the place, though a few women, all paras, came here too, for
the warmth and the company, the cheap food, and the lack of disapproving gazes.

I hadn’t eaten all day, but I didn’t want a meal. Instead I walked up the narrow stairs to the

‘reading room’. Everyone here was male. Some were actually reading, sipping their drinks,
enjoying the comfortable old leather chairs and the company of friends. Others kissed, groping
discreetly. And others, like me, waited to see who might care to provide more than company.

A seat of some kind could always be had, almost magically, no matter how busy the place

became. Today, it wasn’t busy at all, only twenty or so of us in a room that could hold—at a
pinch—a hundred very friendly people. A two-seater sofa was free. I grabbed a glass from the
rack near the door, and nabbed the sofa. I poured out a very large amount of temlido. I planned to
be there a while.

Everyone seemed to have someone, so I was ignored—though in no hostile way—for nearly

an hour. I didn’t mind. I wasn’t sitting alone and miserable in my house, and I wasn’t near my
home communicator. I’d switched off my pocket one too. If people at work had an emergency—
another emergency—they were out of shitting luck.

Men drifted in. One of the kissing couples disappeared through the side door to the three

small rooms there—occasionally used for dossing, but more often for short assignations. Many of
the men who came didn’t have anywhere else to go in private, couldn’t afford a room at an inn,
wanted more than anonymous sex down by the river. Timo and I had gone a couple of times for
that reason after we’d left university, before he decided that he couldn’t face the life I lived and
wanted a family of his own. He’d stopped coming. I never had.

“Hey—seat taken?”
A slim, dark-haired man with the largest brown eyes I’d ever seen, smiled down at me.
I waved my glass at him. “Nope.”
He sat down, set a mug of khevai on the table.
“Want a shot in that?” I asked, indicating the mug.
“Sure. A little one.”

I handed him the bottle—my hands were too unsteady—and he poured a small amount into

his mug. He gestured with the bottle towards my glass and I nodded. He topped me up and
screwed the lid back on the bottle.

“I’m Tek.”
“Jodi.”
He sat thigh to thigh with me, the heat of his leg noticeable and pleasant even through thick

wool. Being close was nice. I found myself wishing he’d put his arm around me....

Where the hell did that idea come from? I met him mere seconds ago.
But as quickly as the panic rose, it died. I calmed down. Of course I wanted physical contact.

We all wanted that.

“You’re knocking that back pretty hard,” he said, smiling again. “Having a rough day?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Rough is breaking up with your boyfriend after you find him screwing someone else.

My day is like being raped with barbed wire, coming home and finding your house has burned
down, your pet rogan died in the fire, and your father died of a heart attack when he heard the
news. And then breaking up with your boyfriend. ‘Rough’ would be an improvement.”

“Ouch.” He pointed to my glass. “That helping?”
“No. I can still—” My breath hitched. “I can still feel.”
He put his hand on my knee, rubbing a little. I looked into his sympathetic eyes.
“I killed someone.”
“I don’t think so.”
“A man is dead because of me.”
“Not the same thing.” His slightly common accent held a good deal of kindness. His hand

rested warm and firm against my leg. I wished it was skin to skin. “I’m a good listener.”

“I’m not allowed to talk about it. Tell me it was my fault.”
“No. Don’t be stupid.”
“It was my fault. It’s your fault too.” He raised his eyebrows at that. “Normals. We made this

society. Paras pay the price. And now you and I pay the price. Homosexuals pay the price
because paras pay a price. Normals think we’re as bad as each other. And the drug addicts.”

“You’re not drunk enough. You’re still making sense.”
I made a rude gesture and sipped my drink. He was right about one thing. I hadn’t had

enough to drink.

“The man who died was a para?”
I nodded.
“Something you did because he was a para killed him?”
I set the glass down on the table and rubbed my eyes with my hand. “Yes. I’m really not

supposed to talk about it.”

He moved his hand, but only to find the one I had in my lap, and squeeze it. “You don’t have

anyone to talk to, do you? Or you wouldn’t be here.”

“What are you, some moonlighting psych?”
“Nope. Just a stray rogan.”
I uncovered my eyes and looked at him. Long-lashed eyes, so ridiculously lush and lovely

for such a narrow, masculine face. I felt I trusted him, but I had no idea why. I wasn’t prone to
trusting people easily.

“You think about it a lot? Paras, deevs?” he asked.
I winced at the slang term. “It’s sort of my job. The first one. The second...I can’t exactly not

think about it.”

“No.” He squeezed my hand again with his rough, calloused one. I wondered what it would

feel like on my cock, my face. “Why do you do it, if you hate it?”

I jerked. “Hate what?”
“Your job.”
“I don’t hate it! My work’s shitting important.” I covered my mouth. “Oops. Rude. Twice

today.”

“Twice?”
“My Mam. Told her...fuck.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s rude. Now you’re drunk, Jodi.”
“Not enough.” I swallowed down the dregs in my glass, and reached for the bottle. He

snatched it away. “Hey, that’s mine!”

“You need to slow down. They’ll throw you out....” He paused. His eyes grew all distant,

and then in a single, abrupt movement, got to his feet, dragging me up by my hand. “We have to
go.”

“Hey!”
“Jodi, come with me.”
I wanted to yell at him again, but the words wouldn’t come out. My legs wouldn’t obey my

command to sit down, damn it, and I had no choice but to follow him, down the back stairs,
letting him pick up our coats without even asking me, and then he dragged me out into the cold,
nearly dark streets.

“Move.”
He pushed me up the street, and then grabbed my arm and pulled me into a dark, grim side

alley.

Then I found I could move. “What the shitting hell are you doing!”
“Quiet!” He pushed me back against the wall of a closed down shop, his hand gagging me.

“The defs are on their way to raid the club. You don’t want to be found there. Don’t yell or

they’ll hear.”

Right on cue, I heard sirens and whistles and the whine and grinding of tortured veecle

engines being pushed past their operating limits out in the street beyond the end of the alley. I
stared at him incredulously.

“You gonna be quiet?”
He kept his hand over my mouth until I nodded.
“How...how did you know?” I whispered.
“I can’t tell you. I’ll get you home safe, Jodi.” He hauled me in close, and planted a firm,

demanding kiss on my lips. I was too shocked to protest, or even breathe. “Sorry about this....”

~~~

I woke muzzy and achy, and when I worked out where I was—on my sofa, not terribly

comfortable for sleeping, I realised why. I glanced at my timekeeper, the bottle on the table, and
realised I’d fallen asleep—or passed out. I remembered why now...the argument with
Mam...Neim.

I covered my eyes, and wished I hadn’t woken up. I’d been thinking of going out but it was

too late, and I’d drunk too much for it to be safe. Better to eat something and go to bed. I
felt...less wretched about Neim. Still sad, but not so hysterical. Probably because of the alcohol,
but whatever the reason, I was grateful.

I found a meal I’d frozen a month before and, feeling surprisingly hungry, I stuck it in the

cooker to warm up. I wasn’t as hungover as I should have been, considering how much was gone
from the bottle. It would probably hit me later. At least I wasn’t working.

I wished Kregan had agreed to let me contact the man’s son. It nagged at me, even though it

couldn’t do Neim any good at all. It was like he’d been erased from people’s memories, like the
ancient paranormals who may or may not have brought a war to a bloodless end. In ten years’
time, would I wonder if Neim was a mistake of memory too? Did his son think he’d only
imagined another father, a man with a tattooed hand and an open, honest smile? Did his dreams
taunt him with images he couldn’t explain?

I pushed away the memory of Neim’s purple, swollen face. I would try to remember him

they way he’d been the last time I’d seen him alive, serene and apparently at peace. He was free
of his pain, the only consolation I could get from this mess.

Chapter Four

Angry voice and text messages from both parents and my two sisters had exploded all over

my communicator list but I deleted the lot. I didn’t feel like apologising, explaining or discussing
it with any of my family—not while I was so raw. Timo wanted to know why I’d called, and I
told him. By then I was calmer, but still confused. He could offer no explanation other than to
suggest maybe Neim had been more than a little crazy after all that had happened to him, which
might have been true.

Timo said my father had called him. I said he could say as much or as little as he liked. My

friend, wiser than me, said that it was up to me to deal with it. He’d support me whatever I
wanted to do. I didn’t know what that should be.

On my return to work, people seemed subdued and a little scared. Internal Oversight were

still going through all my notes and had interviewed me, but Kregan’s intervention meant it was
little more than a formality. Annoyingly, standard procedure required that a temporary overseer
be appointed, and that meant I ended up with Haban, the manager of the team working on a
naksen replacement.

I had nothing to hide, certain my methods could withstand the most intense scrutiny, but

after three days of being interrogated over every line in every report going back five years, I felt
like a criminal. I’d never liked Haban much. He made it clear from his attitude he thought I’d
been given special treatment working directly for Kregan, and that this was his opportunity to
correct the bad habits into which I had fallen. I was prepared to be criticised for my dealings with
Neim. I wasn’t prepared to be branded sloppy, lazy, or incompetent. Kregan made a point of
showing his support to me in front of Haban, so I tolerated it. Barely.

It meant the next group to receive the gene therapy were put off for a week, which meant we

would only finish observations on them just before I went on leave. I considered cancelling the
vacation I’d booked, but in the end I left it. The way I felt, I wasn’t in much of a mood for the
sun-drenched Vilenz Islands.

Finally Haban grudgingly allowed that the trials could resume, which came as a relief

because it was hard enough to get volunteers without messing them around this way. Even
though this group included three prisoners, I disliked the idea that paranormals should jump to
the command of normals. We asked for a month and a half out of their lives, and even if those
lives weren’t particularly wonderful, they were their own, and not ours.

Haban watched the inoculation of the first three subjects, his sour expression indicating he

thought my methodology lacked something, though he declined to actually tell me what. Then he
said he had to do something, leaving me alone with Darno to deal with matters until he returned.

Darno let out a deep sigh. “How long is he going to watch us?”
“Until Internal Oversight is happy, I guess.” I put the call downstairs for the next subject.

“We have nothing to hide.”

“Yeah, but he makes me feel like I do.”
I smiled wryly. “He probably thinks we do.”
We processed the next person, a female TK, and then, since Haban still hadn’t returned,

decided to press on.

The next was also a TK—a male, and the first prisoner of the group, one Ritonwe hon Farin.

He was serving time for petty theft, and for being found not up to date with his naksen dosages—
a prevalent offence, and one often used to lock up paras. He was young, only twenty-five, and
surly with it. Hard to know what he’d have been like before the terrors, but unlike Neim, he’d
never known anything else. He was dressed in prison grey overalls, his head shaved, and the
guards handled him like a vicious rogan as they shoved him into the chair and fastened the
restraints. I waved them back, wishing we could dispense with these official thugs for the trials. It
insulted us and our subjects alike.

I turned to the man and smiled as politely as I could.
“Please relax, sir, while we fit the sensors to you.”
His only reaction was a thin curl to his lips. He could, of course, have killed me while I

touched him—stopped my heart, compressed blood vessels in my brain—but not only would that
have meant his own instant death at the hands of the guards who had their weapons out and
trained on him as I worked, there was also not the slightest indication from his records that he
was dangerous at all. The incidence of violent offences was actually much lower among paras
than among the ‘normal’ population. The official line was that it was the effect of the naksen.
That didn’t explain why non-paranormal naksen users were among the worst offenders in our
society.

Darno took the baseline readings, and then I picked up Ritonwe’s notes.
“In a moment or two, Mas Ritonwe, I’ll ask you to demonstrate your power for me so we can

get a reading, but I’d like to confirm that you’re here of your own free will and that you
understand that there will be side effects, some of which may be severe. The therapy is not risk
free. Are you here voluntarily?”

“Oh sure.” He gave an unpleasant sounding laugh. “Everyone’s a volunteer in prison.”
I frowned at him. “Sorry, I need you to be clear with me, sir. You signed a consent form.

Was that done voluntarily?”

He stared up at me with bloodshot green eyes. “Choice between that and the alternative?

Sure, I ‘volunteered’.”

“If you hadn’t signed, were you told you’d be punished?”
“Punishment means you done something, right? It ain’t punishment if’n they beat ya cos you

don’t play their game.”

Darno stared at me as I laid the clipboard down. “I see. Then we can’t use you in this trial.” I

looked over at the guards. “Please release him.”

Ritonwe began to struggle in the restraints, violently tugging against the arm cuffs. “Wait!

You can’t! They said...I go back now, they’s gonna know I didn’t do it!”

“I’m sorry but I can’t use a subject who’s not given free consent. Guards?”
“No! Stop, I’ll do it! I was kidding!”
“What in Marra’s name is going on here! Arwe Jodimai?” Haban strode into the room,

waving the guards back. “I leave the room for a short while and chaos breaks out. Explain,
doctor.”

He folded his arms. I regarded him coldly, quite certain of my grounds here. “The subject

verbally informed me that he was coerced into signing the volunteer agreement. Therefore it’s not
free consent.”

Haban turned to the man. “Is that true, prisoner?”
Ritonwe glared sullenly at me as he answered. “No, sir, it ain’t. I never said I was coerced or

nothing.”

“You said—”
Haban held his hand up at me and turned to Darno. “Arwe Darno? Did you hear the prisoner

say he’d been threatened?”

“Not in so many words, no, but—”
Habin turned back to me. “Arwe Jodimai, the prisoner has denied he’s been coerced in front

of you and me and these witnesses. We have his written consent. The guidelines are clear.
Proceed with the inoculation.”

“Sir, I can’t.”
His eyes narrowed and his mouth set hard in temper. “You’ve been given a direct order,

doctor. Carry out the inoculation.”

“No, I won’t. It’s against the law, and our regulations.”
“Wrong, wrong, wrong, you arrogant little fool. Very well, I’ll do it. Arwe Darno, give me

the inhaler.”

Darno reached for the treatment tray.
“Darno, hand him that and I’ll have your medical license!”
He froze, eyes darting between the two of us. Haban snorted and made a grab for the inhaler.

I lunged and snatched it from him.

“No! You can’t force an experimental treatment on a coerced subject!”
“Give me that back, you little shit...guards! Arrest him! Arrest him by my order, Regulation

one oh three, employee disobeying directives in a grossly dangerous manner! What the hell are
you standing there for? Do it!”

The two guards swung their weapons towards me. I put my hands in the air, and looked at

my assistant. My knees shook, but I kept my voice as calm as I could.

“Arwe Darno, would you call Arwe Kregan and ask him to step in here, please?”
Haban snatched the inhaler out of my grasp, but at least he didn’t force Ritonwe—doing his

best not to look at anyone—to use it. He nodded at Darno, who made the call, sounding as
panicked as he looked. Then we had to stand there in this ridiculous tableau, me still under guard
like I was the prisoner, for the two minutes it took for Kregan to come barrelling into the room.

“What is going on? Guards, step away. Now. Jodi, lower your hands.”
I did so gratefully. Kregan glared at me, then Haban. “Arwe Haban?”
Haban tilted his chin with a supercilious air. “Arwe Jodimai was disrupting an approved trial

with some utter nonsense about lack of consent!”

“It wasn’t nonsense!”
Kregan held up his hand. “Quiet, please. Both of you. Has this gentlemen received the

therapy?”

I shook my head while Haban gave me a dirty look.
“Fine. Guards, please take him back to the holding ward to await further instructions. Arwe

Jodimai, my office. Arwe Haban, your office. Arwe Darno, stay here, seal your records, speak to
no one. Everyone move, please.”

He issued the polite commands through gritted teeth, and at that moment, I honestly didn’t

know which one of us infuriated him more.

I went upstairs to Kregan’s office. I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t worried. Haban had it in for

me, and I’d handed him a stick to beat me with quite nicely. Yet I would have done nothing
differently. If I still had a job after this, I would insist Kregan or someone find out if there was
anything in what Rotinwe had said.

I sat in one of the visitors’ chairs and wondered how bad this would get. Twenty minutes

later, the door opened and Kregan came inside. He took a seat behind his desk and then folded his
hands in front of him as he coolly regarded me.

“There’s a guard waiting by the door to escort you from the building, Jodi. You’re suspended

until further notice, and your clearance has been temporarily revoked. Wait,” he said as I drew
breath to protest. “This is strictly by the book. I have no choice in this, no matter what my
personal views.” His eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Tell me, without any embellishments,
exactly what happened. Take your time.”

I explained as best I could, and without any emotional language, though inside I seethed,

anxious and nearly ready to puke from stress. Kregan listened to all I had to say without
commenting, and only nodded when I finished.

“Very well. Go home, speak to no one about this—your calls will be monitored—and write

me up exactly what you’ve told me, and in the way you’ve told me.”

“Darno—”
“Darno has gone home too, and he’ll be preparing a statement as well. He’s not suspended,

but I don’t want him in contact with either of you.”

“And Haban?”
He gave me a reproving look for the informality. “He wants to press charges of assault.”
“He what?”
I forced myself to sit down, having half-risen in my anger. Kregan remained as calm as ever.

“Jodi, he can make whatever charge he wants. He still has to prove it. For now, it has to be placed
in the hands of Internal Oversight. I’ll be making a report as well.”

“They’re threatening prisoners! Did you know about that?”
The lowering brows became thunderous. “Stop and think what you just insinuated, doctor.”
“I...I’m sorry, sir. But someone knows it’s going on.”
“If it’s going on,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “I truly have no choice about this, Jodi.

I’ll see if I can get Haban to calm down, but you’d have done better to ask my assistance in this
matter before unilaterally deciding a subject was unsuitable.”

“Sir, the ethical oversight is my responsibility. I was following protocols.”
“Perhaps. I can’t comment further. You need to go home, and I expect the report before end

of day.”

“Yes, sir. Sir—if...if he wins, what happens to me?”
He looked at me with sympathy in his bicoloured eyes. “I’ll do what I can to assist you, Jodi,

as I would any of my team. But if the committee agrees with Haban’s assessment, then you’ll
face consequences.” He stood up. “Go home. I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Things will move
quickly, we can’t afford for another hiatus in this trial.”

“No, sir.”
Numbly I got to my feet and went to the door. As soon as I opened it, a guard sprang to

attention.

“Officer, escort Arwe Jodimai from the building, and arrange a lift home,” Kregan ordered.

“Arwe Jodimai, remember what I said.”

“Yes, sir.”
There was no way out of the building that didn’t take me past staff. There was no way people

wouldn’t stare, and for sure, some of them would already have heard some garbled form of the
story. At reception, Ajeile stood as if to speak to me, but I put my finger to my lips, so she sat
down, her eyes worried. I appreciated her concern, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone about this,
even without Kregan’s injunction.

Once I’d been dropped off at home, I went straight to my viewcom and began to fling the

words down, desperate to do so while events were still fresh and clear in my mind. Then I forced
myself to let it lie for an hour while I calmed down. Kregan had a strong dislike of emotional

displays—which would count against Haban—but an equally strong dislike of people causing
disruption to the section’s work. But it was he who’d taught me the practical side of research
ethics, far more than I had ever learned at the Academy. He would never have allowed prisoners
to be used in these trials if they’d been forced. He had enough misgivings, so he’d said more than
once, about using them at all.

I drank two mugs of khevai before I returned to the report. I edited it and edited it until I was

sure it was as accurate and cool as I could make it, then I sent it. Then all I could do was wait.

The sudden cessation of responsibility, of any task to occupy myself, made the reality come

crashing in. Even if Haban couldn’t prove his case, the very fact charges had been brought would
be a black mark against me. It would be enough for Kregan to remove me—it would be enough
for people above him to insist he did. If Rotinwe had told the truth the first time, then someone
was forcing prisoners to participate in these trials. It seemed unlikely the prison staff were doing
that altruistically. Was it corruption? A bounty being paid for participants? Or someone in the
government desperate for our gene therapy to work? None of the possibilities offered any
comfort.

I badly wanted to talk to Timo about this now, but Kregan couldn’t have been any clearer

about the consequences of doing so. Even if I didn’t care about my own career—which I did—I
had no right to endanger Timo’s, or Timo himself, or his family.

My thoughts chased themselves around and around like baby barchins in a field, and to as

much purpose. Finally I decided I had two choices—stay at home and get drunk, which had
become more of a habit than I cared for, or go out for a long walk and try and clear my head.
Knowing I might be under observation meant I couldn’t go looking for casual sex to relieve some
of the stress, but I doubted it would help enough to be worth the risk.

The weather had turned much colder, and there would be snow by the weekend. The frigid,

biting air was a welcome distraction from the confusion in my brain, but I still shivered in my
heavy coat and warm cap. I was supposed to be escaping from the winter for three weeks of sun-
soaked debauchery, but that might not happen if things didn’t get sorted out soon.

It was a steep climb back up into the city proper. My path took me past the Low Town, but

though I thought longingly of the peace and acceptance I would find there, I simply dared not risk
it.

Even the cutting wind couldn’t stop me churning over this disaster. The problem with

walking through a city I knew so well was that I didn’t have to think about what I was doing. I
might have been better off going for a run, but it was close to dark and, with a splitting headache
and a stomach that had been knotting and unknotting for hours, the idea didn’t appeal. Would I
feel better for a meal? I hadn’t eaten for some time, and nothing more than a snack. I wasn’t
hungry, but I wanted a beer or something stronger, and that wouldn’t be wise on an empty
stomach. I was in enough trouble without being found drunk and incapable in the streets.

I’d now reached the wealthier end of town, but I couldn’t face walking into one of the

restaurants where I’d have happily gone with Timo. I wanted something less formal, more
accepting, more anonymous. Like a bar.

I headed south again, remembering a place I’d gone to a couple of times when I graduated,

just started my job in Kregan’s department. I had no idea if it still operated, but I let my memory
guide my feet, and soon I found myself in front of the place. The bar looked much as I
remembered it—the street dirtier than I recalled, the building a little shabbier with the paintwork
peeling and one of the advertising lights broken.

I belatedly realised that hanging around here after dark could be nearly as risky as walking

through one of the central city gardens, and was about to turn away, when the door opened and a
rush of heat, light and friendly sounds spilled out towards me. Suddenly it seemed precisely what
I needed, so I waited for the outgoing customers to pass, and went inside.

Music was playing, produced by real musicians, not a recording, and now I remembered it

had been that which had drawn me to the bar the first time. The unassuming frontage concealed a
large and crowded interior, the patrons, all concentrated at the back of the room near the
performers, clearly there for the music. A small area had been set off to one side for customers to
sit and eat a meal. I found a table easily—the music of more interest to most than the food—and
gave an order from the limited menu to the waitress who came up as soon as my backside hit the
chair. I sat back, letting the lively sounds, warm, beer-scented fug, and company of people to
whom I owed nothing, take my attention away from my woes.

The folksy familiar music did more to relax me than the beer or even the decent, filling meat

stew with the thick cut bread. By the time I’d finished a mug of hot spiced beer, I felt a bit more
sanguine. If I lost this job, I had other options, even if I couldn’t work for a government
department. I could teach, I could work in one of the hospitals, and if clinical practice didn’t suit,
with my training I could apply to medical research labs operating all over the country. I could
even apply for work in Darsino, possibly Dindornes, but that would mean leaving Pindone,
probably for good. Leaving my family—which would still hurt despite the current hostilities—
and leaving friends.

Leaving Timo, which would be like losing an arm.
Marra’s balls, I wished I could talk to him right now.
The waitress cleared my plates, and I asked for a second mug of beer. The dining area was

filling up, and I should have really moved, but I was comfortable, and I might want something
else to eat in a bit, so I stayed put. The beer arrived as the musicians started another set. I
wrapped my hands around the hot mug, and felt no inclination to leave.

“Hey—d’you mind me sharing your table or is the seat taken?”
I looked up. A smiling dark-haired man, holding a mug of steaming beer, pointed at the chair

opposite me. I waved dismissively. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” He sat down and grinned. “Great set tonight, don’t you think?”
“They’re good, but I’ve never heard them before.”
The waitress interrupted long enough for him to order food—stew and bread, same as me—

and then he answered, “They’re the regulars. You’re new here?”

“Not really.” I already regretted offering him the seat, and contemplated moving to the

standing area near the musicians, but then he smiled again, and I decided not to. “I came here a
long time ago. Remembered it as a good place to have a quiet drink.” Probably too subtle for him,
but worth a try.

“Not very quiet tonight...or did you mean me? Sorry, I’m chatty.”
Another big grin—he had lovely white teeth, and enormous, soppy eyes which didn’t go with

his rather masculine features.

“I’m Tek,” he said.
“Jodi.” He held out his hand and I shook it—hmmm, the calloused hand of a workman, or a

labourer. Not an office worker—he fitted in here better than I did in my tailored clothes and
expensive coat. “You come here a lot then?”

“On and off.” He sipped his beer and then looked me over rather thoughtfully. “You look a

bit pissed off at life.”

“Just...some work hassles.”
“Oh. What do you do? Public servant? Push paper around all day?”
“I’m a doctor, if you must know. You’re being rather nosy.”
“Yeah, I am. Can’t help it. It’s my worst habit, everyone tells me that.” He grinned again,

completely unbothered by negative opinions. I couldn’t help smiling back. “So, what happened?
You kill someone?”

My smile disappeared. “Is that your idea of a joke?”
“Um, yeah? Sorry—”
“I didn’t kill anyone. Enjoy your beer.” Furious, and my skin prickling a little with cold fear,

I got up but found his hand clamped to my wrist. I jerked in panic, but I couldn’t free myself.
“Let go or I’ll call Security.”

“No, don’t do that. Sit down, Jodi.” He was no longer smiling either. “Sit.”
I obeyed, somewhat to my surprise, though my heart thudded in rising fright.
“Who the hell are you?” I growled at him. “Are you following me? Are you Internal

Oversight?” He still had his hand on my wrist. “Let go of me.”

No one had noticed our struggle, but if he persisted, I’d make sure they did.
He still wouldn’t release me. “Jodi, you need to calm down and shut up.”
Neither order had any effect on me. “Who the hell are you?”
Why hadn’t I called for help? He stared up at me, willing me to shut up—and it worked.

Why did it work?

As I tried—and failed—to make sense of this sudden, alarming turn of events, the waitress

arrived. My unwanted companion set my wrist free but for some reason, it didn’t occur to me to
get up and walk away while she distracted him. What the hell was going on? Who was he?

She left us alone again, and he fixed me with his dark eyes. “I’m a friend. I mean you no

harm. How’s your headache?”

Confusion warred with fear as I gaped at him. “My...how did you know?” My head still

throbbed, though it had eased a little after I’d eaten.

“I just do. Fuck it, I’m gonna....”
He seemed to be talking to himself, and I realised he was more than a little nuts, though

perhaps not as threatening as I’d thought before. Still, I’d had enough. I made to get up but he
held up a hand and I froze, quite against my will. The fear which had abated, roared back and all I
wanted was to escape, to flee what this man could do to me.

“No. Jodi, wait.”
I had to get away from this lunatic now, but invisible bonds held me tight. Realising the trap,

I panicked, my heart thumping as I struggled desperately but fruitlessly, trying to make my legs
move—

Suddenly the table erupted into flames, covering our plates, rising up and licking the ceiling.

The bonds on me loosened immediately, but I couldn’t move, horrified by what emerged coming
from my hands, a dangerous, uncontrollable blaze streaming from my fingers. I was on fire, yet
there was no pain. What the hell was happening?

Tek jumped back, falling off his chair to the floor as people started to scream. I flapped my

hands, flicking them away from my body, trying to extinguish the damning flames, trying to get
them away from me before anyone else could see them.

“Stop it. Make it stop. Help me!” Tek frantically shook his head, as appalled as I was. “No!

It’s not me!” I yelled as people ran from the sight of the incriminating fire.

Customers fled in all directions, Tek the only one who stayed, but as someone approached,

he glanced at them, then scrambled to his feet. “I’m sorry, Jodi. I can’t help you.”

Why did I stand here surrounded by fire? I screamed in panic, for help, but then freezing

vapour suddenly enveloped me, blinding me, choking me.

I fell to the ground, scrabbling at my throat for breath, trying to call for help but no sounds

came out of my mouth. I heard shouting, feet thudding across a wooden floor. I reached up
blindly for aid but no hands grabbed mine. More shouting, and then....

Pain. Pain so shocking I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, my body completely out of my

control. It went on and on and then....

Nothing.

~~~

I didn’t regain consciousness for some time—more than long enough, I discovered, for my

life as I’d known it to come to a brutal and complete end. I had passed out a free man—I awoke a
criminal, drugged and mandatorily condemned to an indefinite sentence for concealment of
paranormality, my job gone forever, my possessions seized to be sent back to my next of kin, and
my reputation, privileges and position as an honest professional obliterated. A hatchet-faced
Justice official delivered the news in one curt, unbroken speech while I blinked and tried to take
in my surroundings and my status. A prisoner in a cell. A paranormal, and apparently a terrorist.

There would be no trial. The President himself authorised internment in such cases. No one

wanted to know my defence—all they wanted to know was how I’d managed to conceal my
powers for so long. I was dragged out of my cell and to a bare, harshly lit room with one chair,
one table, and two Nats who took turns to question me.

Over and over they asked the same things. Who’d helped me? When had I found out I was a

pyrokinetic? Who did I know who was a para? I answered the same way over and over, my head
fuzzy and my thoughts disjointed from the naksen, being pumped into my body at massive
dosages from a newly implanted injector. My arm throbbed painfully from the hasty implantation
surgery. No one gave a damn. Just answer the questions. I only had the one answer—I didn’t
know.

I asked to see my parents. Refused. Kregan—refused. A request for a lawyer made the sharp-

faced men in black fall about in laughter. I wasn’t allowed to see or talk to anyone other than
investigators. The naksen stopped me from pissing myself from raw terror at the situation, but it
didn’t dull me so much that I didn’t know how well and truly fucked I was.

Finally they stopped. I was so exhausted, I could have lain my head down on the grey metal

table and gladly slept, right there, in chains and in prison overalls that stank of my sweat and fear.
I wasn’t allowed to, of course. Guards dragged me up, while the investigators—I never knew
their names—watched with hooded eyes.

“What’s going to happen to me?” I asked, as the door opened.
“Nothing,” one of them said. “You’re going to be in prison until you rot, you fucking para.

Get him the hell out of here,” he snarled at the guards gripping me painfully tight.

A para. Me. It looked like I’d have a long, long time to appreciate the irony of that.
They took me back into the bare, freezing cold and windowless cell where I’d found myself

upon waking. I had no idea whether it was day or night. Nothing in the room but me, a wooden
shelf to act as a bed, and a bucket. I hadn’t eaten since I woke up, but I didn’t feel hungry—partly
the drug, partly terror.

I huddled on the ‘bed’ and shoved my fist into my mouth so I wouldn’t scream or beg. I

didn’t know where to start trying to make sense of any of this. How could I have suddenly
developed pyrokinesis after twenty-nine years? The latest any paranormal was known to manifest
was the age of ten, Most were much younger. Adults? Never. The investigators assumed I’d been
hiding it. How could I blame them? I had no way of proving any different.

No one could help me. Paranormals were considered potential terrorists. Anyone hiding their

powers was believed to be the real thing. The only surprise was that I hadn’t been sentenced to
hang, but then I hadn’t heard of a paranormal being executed since I was a child. Was a lifetime
in prison better than death?

I pulled up the sleeve of my grey overall with my teeth and stared at the dressing over the

new injector site. I already understood why paras loathed naksen so much—but why it was taken
by those who didn’t need to, I had no idea. I couldn’t think. I could just about feel—but
everything was so muffled and slow. I had trouble remembering names. Timo’s full name.
The...the woman who worked with Tanika...Ajeile. It was like becoming senile. I would be like
this for the rest of my life.

Tears began to run down my face, but I couldn’t work up enough energy to even cry

properly. The moisture leaked out while I sat there, despairing, confused, hopeless. No one cared.
No one checked on me before I finally collapsed sideways and found a drugged and unrestful
unconsciousness.

They woke me by shaking me and shouting, dragging me upright before I was properly

aware, to begin my imprisonment proper. Silent, heavily armed men forced me into a secured
veecle with blackout windows, and then drove for about an hour, emerging into a large concrete
bunker. Two massive guards—a third following with an electroreed and gun at the ready—hauled
me, without ceremony and still barefoot and chained, through doors and along corridors until we
finally arrived, incongruously, in a shower-room.

There they unchained and stripped me without the least gentleness and thrust me under a

cold water shower. They were serious about it too, and wouldn’t let me get out from under the
freezing stream until every square midec of skin, my hair, and even under my nails was clean. I
was close to hypothermia before they allowed me to get out of the shower.

Next came the medical examination. The medic covered the new implantation site with

synthaskin and took samples of various body fluids. The medic’s attitude was one of undisguised
loathing. I couldn’t tell if it was me, my profession, or all paranormals which disgusted him, but
he managed to make every procedure close to torture. He also managed to do all of it without
speaking to me directly once—asking the guards to make me piss into his sample jar, to make me
hold my arm out, and so on. I had been insulated from this raw hatred, I’d heard about, seen
directed at others. Now it was my life. Like the naksen.

They still didn’t allow me to dress, but at least I was dry now. When the medic indicated

with a flick of his hand that he’d finished and no longer required my odious presence, the guards
dragged me out along another corridor to a barber who removed all my hair with a brisk, efficient
technique. No sooner had his clippers stopped buzzing than I was taken to the room next to the
barber’s. There a technician sealed my status permanently as one of our society’s most despised
members—or non-members, in my case. A tattoo on both hands, warning anyone and everyone

that I was dangerous, and why. The point of doing so was lost on me, since I’d never again use
the powers that had so briefly and disastrously manifested, but naturally my opinion interested no
one.

Tattoos shitting hurt, much more than I thought they would. What they’d been like in the day

when the tattooists used actual needles instead of hyposprays I had no idea, but even the naksen
didn’t dull the pain. They were also revoltingly ugly—certainly by design. The least of my
problems, without doubt, but it still bothered me more than the other indignities. Those, I could
try to forget. This thing would be a reminder for the rest of my life.

At last I was apparently ready to be taken to a cell. In a small, bare room with nothing but a

table and metal chair, the guards allowed me to dress and gave me a pair of thin shoes that would
probably fall apart if they got wet, a pack of basic toiletries, and no other personal possessions of
any kind. They provided food and water and gave me ten minutes to eat and drink. Then they
removed the tray, though I wasn’t quite done. They told me to use the washroom off to the side to
relieve myself and clean my teeth. And then they finally took me to my new home. The guards
tossed me into a cell without a word and left me to get on with it.

I’d never been in a prison. I didn’t watch dramasims set in them, and the media was not

allowed inside to report on them. I was completely unprepared for the reality—a tiny barred cell
with bunk beds, a sink, a toilet, and what looked like hundreds of pictures of naked women on the
walls.

And one very large male occupant.
“So you’re the fresh meat.”
The voice rasped, deep and menacing. Damaged vocal chords, I noted absently as I moved

back against a wall, my head against an image of a woman’s implausible breast. The voice’s
owner stood up and walked over to loom in front of me.

“Uh...hi.”
I was tall but this guy was taller than me by at least half a head and three times as broad,

muscles bulging out of the thin material of his overalls. The shaven head and broken nose made
him look feral. I forced myself to remember I probably looked as threatening.

“I’m Jodi.”
“What’cha in fer, Jodi?”
He moved closer. I tried not to cringe as he bared a mouth full of broken teeth at me. I

doubted it was a smile.

“Er...” I held up my newly tattooed hands. “Para.”
“S’at right?” He leaned a hand on the wall beside my head. “I’m Ganwe.”
“H-hi—”
“Shhh.” He ran his thick fingers down my face, and I shivered. “Now, Jodi. ‘S few things

you gotta get clear from the start, ‘kay?”

“L-like what?” I couldn’t help it. I started to shake, hugging myself. He was so huge and

right in my face. If I moved, he could swat me like a crippled bug.

“Like, this is my cell. I’m the boss. And you belong to me. Got it? Paid good for you. You’re

mine.”

“Paid? Why?”
He did that teeth baring thing again that did so little to reassure me. “Last one didn’t last too

long. Didn’t understand the rules. My rules. You gonna understand them better, or am I gonna
have to get rid of you the way I did him?”

“I—”
“Before you answer, you better know that he ain’t doing too good now. He got kinda all

broken.”

“Please...don’t hurt me.”
“I ain’t gonna hurt you, Jodi.” His voice now a parody of a sultry whisper. “‘Less you don’t

follow the rules. Tell me the rules like you heard ‘em.”

I swallowed, trying to think through the drug and the terror. “Y-your cell. You’re the boss. I

belong to you.”

He patted my cheek. “That’s good. That’s real good. You’re smart, ain’t ya. Talk kinda

fancy. Are you smart?”

“I...uh...am...was...a doctor.”
He raised his eyebrows. “For real? Not much use to me. Don’t let paras be doctors, do they?”
“No.”
He rubbed his hand on my chest. I very much wanted him to stop. I couldn’t tell him to.
“So, what you are to me is a pretty boy with an arm full of the good stuff. Don’t use myself,

but I got friends who like it.”

What was he talking about? The naksen was no use to him or anyone else. Was this his idea

of conversation?

He suddenly gripped my jaw agonisingly hard. “Right. Enough talking.”
He made a movement too swift for me to follow, and something sharp poked me in the gut.
“This thing? Will kill you. Not fast, not easy. Medics here don’t like paras. They won’t help.

So you do what I say or you die hard.”

I couldn’t even nod in frantic agreement but he seemed to approve of what he saw in my

terrified eyes.

“Now, get on your knees, my pretty little Jodi, and suck me off. Make it good, no teeth, and I

won’t hurt you. Understand?”

“Yes,” I mumbled through his grip on my face. I didn’t think this situation could get worse.

How wrong could a man be?

He let me go, and I fell to my knees. He unzipped his lower fly and his fat cock poked out.

“Waiting here, Jodi. Making me wait? Not a good idea.”

It took too long, and when I finished, he shoved me back and zipped up, uncaring now he’d

got what he wanted. I staggered to the toilet and threw up, hanging over the bowl and wishing
they’d killed me outright in that bar. Why keep me alive just to go through this?

A hand touched my shoulder and I instinctively belted it away before I remembered who it

belonged to. I turned and cringed against the wall, expecting a beating. Ganwe stood over me,
looking down with a strange expression, one almost of pity.

“Get up, boy. Rinse your mouth out, you don’t want to sleep with that taste in your mouth.”
I nearly snapped out something about which taste did he mean, but bit my tongue. I didn’t

look at him as I got up and went to the sink. The water helped, though I retched again.

“Here.”
I jerked as a bottle with something brown inside it appeared near my face.
“Mouthwash. It’ll help.”
“Leave me alone.”
He left the bottle on the sink. I heard him walk away, but I didn’t look. Was the ‘mouthwash’

poisonous? Maybe I could....

No. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve, and turned around.

He sat on the floor, still looking at me strangely. “You okay?”

“You mean, for someone who just got raped? Yes, I’m fine.”
“You done good, Jodi. That was the test. I’m gonna keep ya.”
I found a patch of floor as far from him as I could get, which only put me about ten midecs

from him. “So I can suck you off when you want? Is this supposed to make me happy?” He’d kill
me for saying that. I found I didn’t care.

But he didn’t seem angry. “I ain’t into guys. You are, I can tell. You did it too good for it to

be the first time.”

So finally someone had discovered my secret when it no longer mattered. “So what? I’m a

para. No one cares anymore.”

Oh be careful what you wish for, Jodimai. I should have realised Marra would find a way to

punish me for my perverted existence.

“I don’t care neither.” He pointed the homemade knife at me, but not in any threatening way.

“You’re fresh meat, boy. You gotta have an owner, or you’re gonna be a rogan’s meal. Me? I’m a
rogan. I get to eat boys like you. I call the shots. I been in here for most of my life, one way or the
other. I know the system. Fresh meat don’t. I was fresh meat too, once. Learned the hard way
how to make it work. Now, you look like a nice kid. You didn’t fight or bite, or get all hysterical.
You’re smart. The smart ones, they don’t end up in here much, but when they do, they usually do
okay. The stupid ones, they fight the system, think they can beat it. They don’t. They get beat.
You listening to me?”

I looked at one of the glassy-eyed women on the wall behind his head, avoiding his stare.

“Yes. I don’t know what you’re trying to say, and I don’t know if I care.”

His fleshy features creased up in a frown. “Boy, you make yourself care. You are fresh meat.

Two things gonna happen. Tomorrow, we go to the canteen. You go on your own, you gonna get
mobbed. Tore apart. Happens once, twice a week here, regular. The boy? Ends up a mess, if he
lives. You want to end up like that?”

I shook my head.
“No, you don’t. Cos you’re smart. So the other thing that can happen is you go in with me.

I’m your boss, people leave you alone. I trade you for some favours now and then, you don’t get
hurt. Anyone touches you without me saying so? They bought themselves a world of trouble.”

“Then why the...?” I pointed at his crotch, my stomach knotting painfully at the memory.
“Seeing if you would. Like I said, I don’t like men. Blowjob’s a blowjob, but I can take it or

leave it, understand? But there’s men out there, bosses, men who want favours from me, who like
boys. Or they ain’t fussy like me. You got something they want. They can either buy it from me,
or take it from you. Which one you figure is easiest for you?”

“So I’m a whore as well as a para. Marvellous.” I rested my head on my folded arms, across

my knees. I had to stop thinking this couldn’t get worse.

“Boy, there’s men here raped women, kids, murdered their sisters. You don’t wanna know

what they done. Whores? Hell, we like whores. They ain’t bad people.”

I lifted my head. “What did you do?”
He chuckled, which sounded most odd coming out of his brutal features. “Me? Oh, I’m bad

people, Jodi. Ain’t never killed no family though. Or raped no kids. Don’t give me that look. I
‘xplained that.”

By his twisted logic, he hadn’t raped me either. Didn’t make a whole lot of difference to my

stomach, or my shakes. “So you sell my services for favours, and I get not to be....”

“Ever been fucked over a table with a broomstick and nothing to ease the way? That’s what

they done to the last fresh meat who wouldn’t let me boss him.”

“You said—”
He grinned. “He was broken all right. I kinda lied when I said I done it. I coulda done it. He

was too dumb to work it out.” He turned serious again. “I will break you, boy, you give me
attitude, or try something. I ain’t a nice man.”

“No, really?”
He chortled, giving a great big belly laugh, like I’d come out with the best witticism he’d

ever heard in his life. “You’re smart. You’re spunky too. You gotta be both to get on in here,
Jodi. Now, you get some sleep. Breakfast’s real early. That’s when you decide if you walk in
with me, or walk in on your own.”

“You’re giving me a choice?”

“Sure. Ain’t much of one, but ‘s only fair, right?”
I stared at him in utter bemusement. In his head this all made sense, and by his lights, he was

being fair. If I wanted to survive, I didn’t have a choice. I’d be walking in with him, and be seen
as his property. “Just for the record, I hate your guts.”

He nodded as if I’d remarked the sky was blue or the grass green. “‘S only fair, too. I kinda

like you. But cross me, and that makes no difference, understand?”

“Completely.”
“Good. You get top bunk. I tried it up there, broke the shitting thing. Your pretty arse won’t

even dent the mattress none.”

“Ha ha,” I muttered. Strange as it seemed, I just wanted to sleep, I was so exhausted and

shocked and reeling from this appalling day...or days. “How do you know what time it is?”

He reached into his overall pocket and pulled out a small timekeeper—a ladies’ one, dwarfed

by his enormous fist. “Supper was at five. It’s seven now. Don’t worry about sleeping too late.
They make sure you don’t.”

“I’m sure.”
I got to my feet, swayed a little. As I did, the lights in the cell went out and the only thing to

see by was a dim emergency lamp near the bars.

“They do that every night. You get used to it.”
I doubted it. I didn’t want to. It meant accepting what had happened, and I wasn’t ready for

that. Without answering him, I made my way to the bunks and pulled myself slowly into the top
one. I ached all over from whatever they’d done to me in the bar, and from all the rough handling
since I’d woken up after that. I’d never been this unwell or hurting in my life. Nothing had
prepared me for this. I’d either have to be a fast learner, or I’d drown.

Chapter Five

A screaming siren woke me and, for a second or two, I thought it was the fire alarm in my

house. Then I saw the pictures on the walls and remembered. I would have covered my face and
gone back to sleep, but Ganwe was there, yanking on my sore arm.

“Stop it,” I said, giving him a glare.
“You gotta get up. Guards don’t like it if you don’t. You don’t wanna make them mad.”
Aching and muzzy-headed, I dragged myself up and nearly fell trying to get down the

narrow ladder. My movements were clumsy and slow—another effect of the naksen, but also of
tiredness. Sleep had made no difference. Ganwe stood and watched me haul myself into a
semblance of consciousness. Outside the cell, the guards bellowed orders, screamed abuse at
sluggards. Cell doors clanged, men groused and muttered.

“What?” I snapped, unnerved by Ganwe’s steady look.
“You make your mind up, Jodi? You walking in with me or not?”
I thought of Rotinwe, and his answer to me. “Everyone’s a volunteer in prison, aren’t they?”
Ganwe folded his arms. “I ain’t gonna make ya, Jodi.”
“No. You’ll stand by and see me beaten to a pulp. Yes, I’ll walk in with you. I still hate your

guts.”

He smiled, then patted me on the shoulder, before gripping my neck in a possessive but not

painful way. “Oh, you’ll hate me more than this. It’s how it’s gotta be. I won’t let anyone kill ya.
Promise.”

“How reassuring.”
The cell door opened, and a guard with an electroreed gestured us to move. Ganwe kept his

hand on me the whole time as we walked with the mass of prisoners down between the rows of
cells.

He leaned in to whisper in my ear, “You don’t talk ‘less I speak to you. No one else, no

matter what they say or ask. I’ll hurt you if you do. You’re my boy. You do as I say. Nod if you
understand.” I did as he asked. Did I have a choice, really? “Good.”

The canteen smelled revolting—sour, dirty and mouldy. Paint peeled on the walls which

dripped with moisture, and my shoes stuck to the floor as I walked. No windows, just ceiling
vents—I remembered what I had read about the prisons all being almost completely self-
sustaining, with their own wind and solar power generation, growing their own hydroponic food.
The government was quite proud of the fact. Were we underground? I had no idea where I was in
the country—but then, it didn’t matter any more.

My stomach churned at the slop thrown onto the metal tray by the server—another prisoner,

a para. I supposed there had to be quite a few of them—us—here. He didn’t look at me, but I
noticed he took a lot more care with Ganwe’s food, and an extra pat of vegetable spread graced
Ganwe’s tray as we moved away to find a seat. People made room for him—plenty of room. I
seemed to be the possession of a boss whom everyone respected—or feared.

He didn’t look at me as I poked the grey stodgy porridge and decided I could only face

eating the bread. I could only hope the food was fortified with essential nutrients because it
looked the most dreadfully unhealthy stuff one could imagine.

I tried not to attract attention, and didn’t look around—partly because I felt overwhelmed

and afraid that if someone poked me, I’d run screaming out of the room. Try to, at least. I stared
at my tray, tried not to throw up at the sight of the disgusting porridge, and slowly ate the bland
bread with the tasteless spread on it. The naksen tremor forced me to grip the food with both
hands. Unfortunately I wasn’t one of the lucky ones who escaped this side effect, but what did it
matter since I’d never need to earn a living again.

Ganwe ate with a huge appetite, and when he saw I hadn’t touched the porridge, grabbed my

tray, scraped my portion onto his tray, and then pushed mine back at me. All without saying a
word.

People moved around me, but I kept my head down. Someone sat next to me, far too close

for my comfort.

“This the pretty one you ordered, Gan?”
“He’s on a test run. So far, he’s real smooth.” Ganwe let out one of his strange chuckles.

“Want to try him out, it’s gonna cost.”

“Maybe. He’s got a mouth like a girl.”
“Sucks like one too. Sweet and tight. Mmmm mmmm.”
I clenched my jaw as the newcomer giggled. It wasn’t like Ganwe hadn’t told me the deal

straight out.

Other men came up, curious about Ganwe’s new ‘acquisition’, but also making hasty,

whispered negotiations for this and that, which Ganwe agreed to or didn’t, as he chose. No one
had yet put in a request for my favours. I wasn’t under any illusion that it would be long before
they did.

We didn’t have long to eat our breakfast. It was a relief to get out of the noisy, noisome

place, even at the cost of being shoved and shouted at by the guards. About a hundred of us were
then sent on a long walk through concrete halls and dimly lit corridors to a massive hydroponics
garden, growing fruit and vegetables. Enormous lights flared hot and bright overhead, simulating
daylight. The humid air, turned lazily by huge fans interspersed with the lamps, smelled
deceptively sweet, though hardly fresh.

Ganwe, apparently, was the boss of this as well, and I was to work for him. We collected

rubber boots, caps and coverall coats from a supply hatch, and then we dispersed into an

apparently endless series of bays and rooms where fruit and other produce grew in vats and trays.

Ganwe kept his hand on my shoulder. I would stay in his area.
“Here, Jodi, you’ll get this right away. Setin, show Jodi how to run the water tests. Jodi,

that’s your job until I tell you different.”

I felt relieved to get away from Ganwe’s overbearing presence, but I felt exposed too. Setin

had no curiosity about me, and without using any superfluous words, showed me how to handle
the simple testing procedure. The controls were all designed to be idiot-proof, and I was grateful
they didn’t need any fine motor control because my hands had a constant tremor. Naksen shake. I
wondered if the people who’d ordered the mandatory drugging of paranormals had ever tried the
drug themselves.

The work wasn’t hard, and though not interesting, it at least gave me a slight distraction from

my thoughts. Being around the plants gave an illusion of freedom, and I welcomed the warmth
and light from the huge ceiling lamps. There was constant activity, none of it conducted at great
speed. The two guards at each door paid very little attention to our doings, but there didn’t seem
any obvious way a prisoner could cause trouble in here. The chemicals could be used to make
explosives, but the quantities required were far greater than that being doled out to us by a hard-
faced administrator through a hatch at the far end, and they had that side of it under strict control.

The testing took a long time, and then after making pH and nutrient adjustments, had to be

rerun. When I finished, I was about to ask what I should do next, when Ganwe approached, a
thin-faced man at his side.

“Jodi, go with him. Do what he asks, then come back.”
“Do—?” I bit my tongue at his hard look. “Yes, sir.”
The thin-faced man turned, and I followed him to a storeroom full of pots and tools. There

were no guards at the door, but the room only had the one entrance. As soon as we were inside
the door and out of the line of sight of the other workers, the man shoved me to my knees and
pulled out his cock. I didn’t need further instructions.

Five more times that day—twice before lunch, three times after—I went to the store room to

service men. The final time, there were two, one watching and jerking off as I sucked off his
friend. I had to find a sink and throw up after that.

Ganwe came up behind me and put his hand on my neck.
“You’re doing good, Jodi. Never had a boy give me less trouble.”
I turned my head to look at him, wiping my mouth. “You mean, I’d be better off giving you

trouble?”

“Uh uh. This way, I don’t have to hurt you to make you behave. I get my way whichever you

choose.”

I straightened up. “And what do I get?”
“Protection. You ain’t realised it, but being my boy, that means something. One day you

won’t be fresh meat no more. That means something too.” He pulled out something from his
overall pocket—a small sweet. “Here, take the taste away.”

I took it off him—not much flavour, but that wasn’t a bad thing. “Doesn’t it bother you what

you’re involved in? Men sucking off men? Bothers people outside.”

“Me? Hell, I don’t care, ‘less it’s screwing kids. Them I hate,” he said with a scowl. “Why

should it bother me? You’re just a man, same as me. We all got needs.”

I laughed, though I didn’t feel particularly amused. “No wonder society’s so intolerant. They

lock up anyone with a sensible idea in their heads.”

“That’s what I always say,” he agreed solemnly. He put his hand on my neck again. “Come

on. Shift’s over.”

The guards searched us pretty thoroughly. At least, they searched me thoroughly. Again,

they treated Ganwe with much more diffidence, and I wondered what hold he could possibly
have over the guards. Perhaps they needed him to exercise control over a group of men with no
natural respect for authority. Certainly none of the prisoners paid much attention to the shouting
and brutality of the guards. To them it was background noise—but Ganwe commanded attention.
Him, the men listened to.

I quickly learned the first day followed the routine of my life for the foreseeable future. The

prison worked to a strict timetable, and the only reason it changed, or a prisoner moved, was if a
problem arose.

“You don’t want to be a problem,” Ganwe assured me. I could, theoretically, ask to be

moved from his cell, or make a nuisance of myself and get moved. But in three days I’d already
seen enough to know there were worse men here than him—bosses who cowed and beat their
boys, and offered little or no real protection. Ganwe was callous but he wasn’t cruel. I had
learned that was something to value.

He also tried to make things easier for me in his own self-centred way. No one had told me

what my rights and expectations were supposed to be. I’d assumed, as a paranormal and supposed
terrorist, I had none. He put me right on that.

“They don’t bother telling you—don’t put themselves out for you cos you’re a para—but you

got rights. No lawyers or nothing—no appeals—but you can make calls. One a week. They has to
let you. There’s a temple chaplain comes every so often. He’s supposed to help with personal
problems. Useless as a concrete testicle, though. They run temple services once a month. You
don’t gotta go, though. Boring as shit, they are.”

“Visitors?”
He picked his teeth before he answered, tossing the little stick with unerring accuracy at the

litterbin. “They has to let you have them too. It’s them Marranites—those poncy ones, what do
they call themselves? Yeah, ‘Brethren of Charitable Intentions’, silly buggers. Run around in
dresses and veils, look like a bunch of dead flowers.”

Ganwe probably found the idea of doing something for pure altruism incomprehensible,

since he saw everything as a business arrangement.

“They make the government do all that stuff, like it makes it better being in here cos of it.

But don’t get your hopes up, Jodi. No one’ll come. We’s in the middle of nowhere, and the
government don’t like people visiting paras.”

I slumped, knowing this was likely the bare truth. “I’ll go mad,” I muttered.
“Some do. You won’t. You’re smart. You’ll find a way. Maybe one day they’ll want paras to

help them again, and they’ll let you go. Happened before.”

I looked at him .He was older than me by some way. “I don’t suppose you remember

learning about paranormals being heroes when you were at school.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, nodding. “I remember that real clear. Wasn’t one for books—don’t read

too good—but the teacher would tell us stories when I was little. I remember a story about you
paras ending a terrible war. I wanted to be a sparker. Like you. Had a friend who could make fire.
It was great. Then they arrested him. He was only fifteen. Might even be in here somewhere.”

“You...don’t hate us?” I frowned at him in surprise.
“Why should I? You ain’t done nothing to me and mine.”
“I don’t understand you, Ganwe.”
He grinned at me, showing all his damaged teeth. “Cos I’m mysterious, eh?”
“Yeah. A complete mystery.”
Why was a thief and extortionist who’d gut you if you crossed him, one of the least bigoted

men I’d ever met? Even if he did pimp me out like a veecle for hire.

That I could make calls was something I hadn’t expected. I didn’t know who to try, though.

Ganwe said prison-approved people could call me. No one had. Not my parents, not Timo—no
one from work either. It might have been that they had been deterred, or tried and the prison
authorities had put them off. Or they might have decided I wasn’t worth the risk. I could be
endangering people by calling them. I needed to think about this some more. I didn’t think
particularly quickly these days, but I had plenty of time to do it in.

I was startled when, after the supper, I wasn’t herded back to the cells with Ganwe and the

others, but instead dragged out of the group by two guards. My panic didn’t ease until I realised
we were headed to the medical wing. I guessed, correctly, it had something to do with the peeling
synthaskin over my implantation site. With as little courtesy or care as he’d displayed before, the
medic removed—rather, ripped off—the synthaskin, cleaned the site with an alcohol wipe, and
then attached an automatic injector to the implant port. This would become my routine, I
supposed—what every para in this country had to get used to.

The injector added five myclits, and then the medic disconnected it. He scribbled ‘Seven’ on

my chart, and before I could apply caution to my instinct, I said, “Five.” The man looked at me
with cold eyes. “Uh—five myclits, not seven. Sorry, I couldn’t help—”

“Guard!” The one at the door came charging in at the medic’s shout. “He’s concealing

contraband. Search him.”

“What? No, I—”
I collapsed to the floor, jerking in agony as the guard’s electroreed struck me across the

kidneys. Another guard came in while I writhed helplessly on the floor. He kicked me in the
thigh, before hitting me with his own electroreed. Nothing like being sure a prisoner would give
no trouble.

Turned out being ‘searched for contraband’ was code for a deep cavity search, done with

malice and nothing like enough lubricant. As they threw me back into the cell, where I landed
hard on the cement floor, Ganwe stopped picking his teeth.

“Pissed off the medic, didn’t ya? Thought you might.”
I ignored him as I shivered and tried not to cry. The whole thing had been worse than even

Ganwe’s little ‘test’ my first night here. At least that hadn’t hurt. They’d torn me for sure—
probably not seriously, but enough to cause a sharp sting whenever I moved.

“Hey, Jodi.”
I looked up—Ganwe held out his hand. Since lying on the floor didn’t make me feel any

better, I grudging accepted the help and got awkwardly to my feet. “Thanks.”

“What did you do?”
He actually let me sit down on his bunk, which was suspiciously nice of him.
“The guy wrote down that he’d given me seven myclits of naksen, not five. I’ll probably end

up short unless he tops it up.”

“He won’t. That’s how they fix the records. Dole out less than they’re supposed to, sell the

spare on the black market.”

“Fucking bastard.”
“Yeah, he’s a real arsehole. Has been ever since he was posted here. Hates paras—hates all

of us. Hates doctors too. That’s how I knew you’d piss him off.”

I gave him a unfriendly look as he got up and went over to the locker in the corner, where he

kept his ‘personal possessions’—mostly proceeds of his various deals and trades.

“You could have told me.”
“Yeah—but this way, you won’t forget. They damage you any?” He rummaged around, head

buried in the locker.

“A bit.”
He tossed me something, which turned out to be an almost empty tube of antibiotic cream.

“That help?”

“Yes. It will. Thank you.” I narrowed my eyes. “What do you want?”
“See? I told you, you was smart.” He turned around and came over to me, something in his

big hands I couldn’t see. “Roll up your sleeve and let me see that implant thing.”

“Why? No...erk.”
He’d pressed me back down against the bed, his little knife under my jaw. For a big man, he

could move like lightning.

“Jodi, you know I always get my way, so why are you arguing?”
His breath wafted against my cheek, his coarse features filling my vision. “Wh-what are you

going to do?”

“Just taking a little bit more of that stuff out of your arm. Won’t hurt.”
“No! Ganwe, if I’m already short, and you take more—”
He pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe. “We can do this easy or we can do it

hard, Jodi. But it’s happening either way. I need that stuff.”

“You don’t use it,” I gasped.
“No. I still need it. Now you can sit up, hold out your arm, and it’ll be over in a couple of

seconds. Or I can sit on you until you pass out, take it, and then you might wake up. Or you
might not. You choose.”

“Shitting hate you,” I spat.
His expression didn’t change. “I know. ‘S fair. Well?”
When I didn’t struggle, he figured out my decision and climbed off me.
“Roll up your sleeve.”
I did so, glaring at him, which he ignored as he always did. He had an alcohol wipe which he

used to carefully clean the port down, and more alcohol in a little bottle to sterilise the syringe.
He was well-prepared and had done this many times, that much was obvious by the ease and skill
he showed. He carefully drew out two myclits, leaving me with three, plus what was left in the
implant before I’d been ‘refilled’.

“Okay, done.”
I rolled up my sleeve and got off the bunk, moving to the other side of the cell so I could

glare at him some more. He capped the syringe and then rapped on the bars three times with one
of his shoes. Moments later a guard appeared, the syringe handed over, and then the guard left.
The transaction took about three seconds.

Ganwe put his shoe back on. “‘S not personal, Jodi. Just business.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Price I paid for you. I wanted a pretty boy—can’t say they ain’t kept their side

of the bargain. What I took won’t kill ya.”

“I’ll go into withdrawal!”
He nodded. “Yeah. Sorry about that. Won’t kill ya, though. Stop giving me that shitting look,

will ya? Some of them bosses, they take four on top of what the medic takes. Their boys don’t get
hardly no normal days at all. I’m letting you have half.”

“How fucking gracious of you. That’s all I am, something to sell, something to exploit.”

He looked at me as if I was very, very stupid. “I bought you. ‘Course I exploit you. You’re

fresh—”

“Meat. Yes, you can stop saying that any time, Ganwe. How are you proposing to hide my

going into withdrawal from the guards?”

“They won’t do nothing.” He went over to his bunk to sit down. “I’ll look out for you. I

already do, don’t I? I ain’t the worst you could get.”

I glared at him for this dubious mercy. “Leave me alone.”
“Sure. You want to use that stuff on your arse, I won’t look. Don’t turn me on none.”
“What a pity. Something you can’t turn to profit.”
His nostrils flared. I’d finally irritated him. “Watch your mouth, Jodi. I know you’re pissed

off with me, so I let you have your say. But you watch your mouth now. It’s business. I ‘xplained
it. It ain’t personal. Can’t say more than that.”

I clenched my mouth shut. Arguing with him would only make him angry, and to what

point? He was right—he’d paid for me, why shouldn’t he get good value? If he didn’t do it,
someone else would. I had no leverage here unless I wanted to be the exploiter, not the exploited.

He did as he said, turning away and letting me put the cream on my arse. It stung, but it

would help. I just hoped he hadn’t planned to sell me for more than blowjobs in the next few
days.

After lights out, I lay on my bunk, hurting and angry, and wished I could get in touch with

Timo. I missed him and his humour and his quiet, strong affection so much it made me weep. But
what if being in contact with me led to him being in a place like this, or any of his family falling
under suspicion?

I put my arm over my eyes and tried to hold it together, but I couldn’t. The best I could do

was not make any noise. I wouldn’t give Ganwe the knowledge I was so weak and pathetic that I
cried myself to sleep.

Chapter Six

Now I realised an active drug trade went on among the guards, I recognised the signs.

Naksen acted as a sedative at much lower doses than was needed to suppress paranormal ability.
What Ganwe had stolen from me, would make a grown man pass out cold if injected all at once.
That wasn’t how drug abusers used it, though. They cut it with water (or other drugs), and two
myclits would make at least ten doses. The symptoms were more subtle than what I experienced,
but several guards had an occasional tremor, their ordinary speech at times slurred or a little too
fast like a drunk’s. Why they didn’t use alcohol which was legal and easier to get, I had no idea.
Maybe the naksen was cheaper.

My fellow inmates suffered as a result. We had four paras in our team, not including me, and

the day after Ganwe ‘milked’ me, one of them disappeared into the storeroom. Not for sex, since
no other man followed him. He didn’t emerge until lunchtime, when one of the others came to
drag him out—’drag’ being the operative word, since the fellow could barely stand. After lunch,
which couldn’t be avoided because of the mandatory headcounts, he went back to the storeroom.

He looked even worse when he emerged at the end of the shift. The following day was a ‘rest

day’ where the guards took us to a large hall with daylight simulating lamps and sports
equipment, allowing us to freely socialise and get a little exercise. The para going through
withdrawal spent it curled up in a corner, shivering and crying. No one went near him.

I couldn’t watch him all day—Ganwe had plans for me that kept me busy half the time—but

when I wasn’t sitting against a wall cursing my ‘owner’ and trying to forget the unwanted feel
and taste of men who’d hired me, I kept an eye on the guy. I thought I should check on him, but
to what point? I couldn’t do what he needed, which was to top up his implant, and I had none of
the jozidem we used to give to paranormal volunteers to ease the symptoms. I didn’t think he’d
thank me for concern that offered no real benefit.

And Ganwe didn’t like me talking to people. He had other ‘boys’ he controlled, but I was the

only one he kept on such a short leash. It meant I couldn’t make any friends, or get a sense of
how things worked, or talk to the other paras about how they coped. I could only hope that he
might relax a little more once he realised I had no intention of trying to slip his control—no
point, after all. I’d already seen one incident in the canteen where an unowned ‘boy’ had been
mobbed by some of the more experienced hands. When I saw him next, he was a mess, crying
and bruised. I didn’t need to ask him what had happened. By evening, he trailed around behind
one of the bosses, being treated like shit—the penalty for not making the right choice, apparently.

I convinced myself that I would cope better with withdrawal because I knew what to expect.

I was such an arrogant shitting fool. It crept up on me. I started work in the garden as usual,

making the water checks, feeling more than usually tired, hoping the day would be a quiet one
and no one would be in the mood for sex. My first day had been one of the worst for that—
Ganwe showing off the goods, probably—but there hadn’t been a single day when I hadn’t been
told to follow one or other of the team, or to service someone in the showers, or in the exercise
room. I was slowly getting used to it, but I still hated it, most of all because it had once been
something I’d enjoyed.

About an hour after we’d started the shift, my stomach started to cramp. A minute or so later,

I doubled over, hardly able to breathe for the pain, holding onto one of the plant racks so I didn’t
fall over. I heard someone running off, thudding, rubber footsteps on the concrete, and a little
after that, Ganwe’s voice and his hand on my neck.

“Okay, boy, you sick or you withdrawing?”
“Don’t know,” I gasped.
He felt my forehead, read the pulse in my neck like he was the doctor, not me. Then he put

his arm around my waist and made me stand up. I could barely see him for the pain tears.

“First time’s the worst. You come with me, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
I hated him for doing this to me in the first place, I hated him for pretending to care, I hated

that everyone could see me and know what was going on with me. But I let him haul me to the
storeroom, and tuck me up against some boxes. I was so cold and in so much pain, I couldn’t
think at all. I just wanted it to stop.

“Please...help me.” I fumbled towards him, grabbing the front of his overalls. “Make it stop.”
“I can’t, Jodi. I’m sorry. I’ll make sure no one bothers you. Best thing is you sleep it off.”
Sleep? Was he joking? I was shivering so hard I thought my bones would crack. He stood up

and walked off. I wanted to call out and make him come back, but my mouth wouldn’t work.

Those few hours were the worst I’d ever experienced in my life. Somehow I had to get up

and go to the canteen at lunchtime. I didn’t recall much about that. I couldn’t eat, I remembered
that, and leaning up against Ganwe, so desperate for any source of heat because I couldn’t get
warm. I did manage to spend some of the afternoon asleep, but I woke up dry heaving.

Ganwe didn’t even try to take me to the canteen that night for supper. He must have bribed a

guard or something because they took me back to the cell where I lay on the lower bunk, retching
and shaking and seriously wanting to die.

Precious little concession was made to my suffering, though Ganwe did his best according to

his nature. He made me get up off his bunk and climb into my own, even though I couldn’t stand
at that point and he had to boost me up the ladder like a geriatric with arthritic hips. But he
produced an extra blanket from somewhere, and stroked my forehead for a bit, nice until I
remembered who was doing it and I snarled at him to fuck off. I was sorry when he stopped, but I
couldn’t forgive him. The guards hadn’t needed the naksen, but I did. Ganwe had stolen it from
me and made me like this.

For three days I endured this, with no noticeable improvement, even though in theory there

should have been some very slight change for the better. Naksen had been designed this nastily to
enforce compliance, and to debilitate those who didn’t keep the levels up, but even so, the
addictive agent only lasted for a few days before its effect wore off. The suppressant effect on my
powers would last for at least seven days, possibly longer. I was one of the lucky ones who was
particularly sensitive to naksen, and so withdrawal was especially severe.

When they finally dragged me to the medical wing to be topped up, I could hardly sit still,

waiting for the drug to enter my system, disgusted at my eagerness but helpless to stop my
reaction. The medic sneered at me as he removed the autoinjector, shorting me once more. Did he
really imagine himself superior to me because I’d been forced into an addiction he fed in other
people?

The replenished naksen worked fast. I was almost back to normal when I returned to the cell.

Or as normal as I could be. I found if I wasn’t doing anything too mentally challenging, the
slowness of my thoughts didn’t hinder me too much. It was only if I attempted anything remotely
complex that I remembered I couldn’t do that any more.

Ganwe was waiting for me. “Now, Jodi, you know what I want.”
I pushed him away and fled to the other side of the cell. “No! I’m not going through that

again! I’ll kill you!”

He was on me in a second, pushing me against the wall, his hand around my neck,

squeezing, ignoring my struggling as if I was nothing more than a toy.

“Kill me? You ever killed a man, Jodi boy? I don’t think you have. Don’t think you could

neither. Killing takes guts, doing it up close like this. You have to be ready for the sound. You
have to want to hear the noise a dying man makes, and know you’re the one that done it.”

Suddenly he let me go. I gasped, trying to get air back into my throat. “But if you got the

guts, you do it. I ain’t gonna fight ya.”

He stood there, massive hands harmlessly at his sides, but I knew he wouldn’t let me do it,

even if I had the guts, like he said.

“I can’t go through that again. Ganwe, I haven’t eaten in days. If I have to do that every

week, there’ll be nothing left of me. I’ll die and you’ll have to get some other sucker to rob.”

He shrugged. “Fresh meat comes in, fresh meat goes. Up to you if you can make it or not. I

gotta pay them guards thirty myclits, and it’s gotta come from you.”

“Thirty! Fifteen weeks? No...please, Ganwe, don’t do this.”
He shoved me against the wall again. “I gotta. Can’t let fresh meat tell me what to do. ‘Sides,

a deal’s a deal. I don’t want to hurt you to get that stuff, but I will if I have to.” He searched my
face. “I don’t got a choice. It’s me or you, and I gotta pick me. No one else will. You ain’t lived
like that, and I’m sorry. But fact’s a fact.” He stood away. “Now you choose—easy or hard.”

I rolled up my sleeve and stuck my arm out at him, turning my face away from him so I

didn’t need to watch him or what he did. The extraction took less than a minute, and the handover
to the guard completed as quickly as before.

I climbed up into my bunk, intending to ignore him completely, but he touched my shoulder.
“What? Don’t tell me you want me to suck you off after all that?”
Something hit the blanket in front of my face—a bar of cheap candy. “You missed your

supper. Lights out in...twenty minutes. Let it go, Jodi.”

I pretended I hadn’t heard him or seen the candy bar, but when I heard him get onto his own

bed, I tore the paper wrapper open and wolfed down the sweet, overflavoured thing. Now I was
no longer in withdrawal, my appetite had come back, and I was starving.

“If you had to go through this, you’d never do it to someone else,” I said to the ceiling.
“If you came from my world, you’d know what a shitting stupid thing you said to me. Go to

sleep.”

For the first time since I’d been assigned to this cell, I thought I’d managed to make him

genuinely angry. That didn’t give me as much satisfaction as it might have done a few days ago.

~~~

The withdrawal felt no easier the next time or the time after that, despite Ganwe’s prediction

that it would be. The only benefit was that I found it physically impossible to service anyone
sexually. He didn’t even try to make me, a small but unexpected mercy. I didn’t argue with him
when he told me to present my arm for ‘milking’ the next time—but if I’d expected him to be
guilty in the least about it, I was bound to be disappointed. Guilt wasn’t a Ganwe thing.

I was right about one thing—I would die if he kept this up, or at least become ill. The weight

stripped off me even in three weeks, and all his little gifts of sweets and the occasional piece of
fruit, didn’t make up for not being able to eat in the throes of withdrawal. I didn’t think he
wanted me to die—but I wasn’t worth antagonising the guards over. There would be other pretty
paras coming along to replace me if I conked out on him.

My desperation at my situation finally drove me to making one of my allowed calls to my

parents. That was a mistake. My mother answered, and as soon as she realised who it was, closed
the call. I didn’t get a chance to utter a word, but I’d still used up my allowance for that week—
no retry or alternative permitted.

After that, I didn’t have the heart to try anyone else. If Timo rejected me that way...no. I

could survive Mam’s bigotry because it didn’t surprise me. If Timo turned out to be like her, it’d
kill me. I didn’t want to destroy my memories of a friendship so precious by a reality that ugly.

I thought that would end my contact with the outside world, but I was wrong. Two days after

that abortive call, a guard came to the farm to collect me. Not, as I thought, to drag me to the
medical wing, but because I had a visitor. He gave me no details, only telling me I could refuse to
see the person or I could come out and talk to them. Those being my choices, of course I wanted
to see them.

I was pretty sure I knew who it would be. Trepidation collided painfully with hope as I

submitted to a search, and then they allowed me into the visitors room—an ugly bare room that,
in theory, could allow a hundred prisoners or more to speak to their loved ones at scuffed, dirty
tables divided by wooden partitions. Today, there were only half a dozen prisoners and
anonymous civilians waiting to see them. I was so slow in my thought processes these days that
when I didn’t see the person I’d expected, I couldn’t recognise at first which one of the visitors
had come for me.

Ajeile recognised me though. “Jodi!”
She waved madly at me. The guard directed me to one of the tables and another guard

brought her over to me. She reached for my hand across the table.

“Marra—what have they done to you? Your hair—and you’re so thin.”
In my shock, it took me some moments to find my voice. “A-Ajeile.”
She looked so damn normal—just as she had the last time I'd seen her in the office. Her eyes

were red, but otherwise she was the same, even down to the pale green blouse and plum jacket.

“Wh-what are you...why are you here?”
“Aren’t you glad to see me?”
“I’m...staggered. Pleased. But why? Why you? I mean—” I stopped, not wanting to admit

out loud that no one else had been in touch at all.

“Because....” She shifted uneasily. “I’m sorry it took so long to arrange it. I had to get

official clearance and that took weeks. But now....” She made the effort to smile, though the
shock of my much changed appearance lingered in her eyes. “It’s good to see you, Jodi. I’ve been
so worried. No one knew anything about where you were or what happened to you. Except Arwe
Kregan, and he made an announcement that you’d been arrested and were no longer working
with us.”

I could only blink at her. “Wait—so how did you find out what happened to me? Or where I

was?”

She blushed suddenly, turning the most extraordinary colour. “I...um....”
“Ajeile, what did you do?”
“Please don’t be angry with me.”
I resisted the urge to lean over and shake her. “I won’t. I’m just confused.”
“I told Kregan you were my fiancé.” The words spilled out in a rush, and her cheeks

reddened further. “I had to, Jodi, or they—” She bit her lip.

I patted her hand. “It’s all right, Ajeile. I’m not angry. And then he told you...?”
Her breath hitched. “He said you’d been imprisoned and that I’d never see you again.”
“Did he say why?”
“Terrorism. That can’t be true!” She looked at me with wide-eyed certainty. “I don’t care

what any of them say!”

I wondered what had been said, knowing the rumour mill that was our department. “It’s not

true. But I’m a paranormal.”

She covered her mouth with her hand in shock. “How can that...you were hiding it?”
“No. I didn’t know, I swear. The power just...appeared. I wasn’t hiding a thing. I didn’t know

there was anything to be hidden.”

“I believe you,” she said firmly, reaching for my hand. “But it explains why they made it so

hard for me—they threatened my job if I tried to contact you, but I got in touch with one of the
prisoners’ rights charities and they helped me. It took me three days to get here.”

“But, Ajeile—why? I’m glad to see you, but not if you lose your job....”
She tilted her chin up. “I don’t care. I wanted to know what happened to you. Because I love

you.”

I stared at her. Was this all some dreadful joke? “Love me? Ajeile, I never—”
“I know, we only went out those few times, but...I can’t help how I feel. I...wanted to tell

you.”

I couldn’t answer. It was as much a shock to me as when the flames had started to come out

the end of my fingers, and every bit as unwelcome. While I sat dumbstruck, she discreetly wiped
away a few tears and blew her nose.

“Uh...are you really never going to be released?”
“Unlikely,” I murmured, patting her hand.
“Jodi, that’s...no, it’s not fair.”
She began to cry in earnest, quietly and brokenly. I patted her back, helpless and ashamed at

not knowing the way she felt.

“Ajeile, my dear girl...you...shouldn’t have taken such a risk for me. I can’t believe you did

—even my parents—”

I shut my mouth. We didn’t have that close a relationship, whatever fantasies she’d woven

around a few dates. I was suspicious, suddenly, of her appearance, this previously unsuspected
adoration. Was this some kind of trap? Had she been sent to find out who’d been helping me? I
wished my brain would work faster because I felt I’d missed some important clues here.

She lifted her head and sniffled. “I went to see them. Tried to. Um...your mother.... She

wasn’t very sympathetic.”

“No.” I pushed back in my chair. I needed her out of here. “You shouldn’t have come,

Ajeile. You’re risking everything on a relationship that’s a lie. We’re not really engaged, you
know that.”

She blinked at me, tears still on her lashes. “I know...but I lo—”
“Yes, you said. But I’m homosexual. A deev.” Her mouth snapped shut, her eyes big with

shock. “I went out with you and the other women to hide that. So you don’t need to feel guilty
about me. I deliberately deceived you.”

“You’re just saying—”
“No, I’m not. When I wasn’t going out with you, I was down by the river sucking off

handsome strangers.” I hated myself with every word, but I had to end this farce. “The man you
claim to be in love with doesn’t exist.”

Her reaction was less than I expected. “I always thought you were hiding something,” she

murmured, using her handkerchief again to mop her eyes. “When I heard...I assumed it was your
powers.”

“I didn’t know about them. I have no idea why they suddenly emerged. I’m a deev, Ajeile.

That’s what I was hiding. So you need to go away and forget about me.”

“It doesn’t make any difference, you know.” She looked up. “I can’t help being in love with

you. I understand why...you can’t...you really felt nothing? Nothing at all?”

Even though I remained suspicious, her broken words tugged at my heart. “I was...am...fond

of you. As a friend. But sexually.... I’m sorry.”

She laughed, the sound breaking off into a sob. “You fake pretty well. I was completely

fooled.”

“I had a lot to lose.” She looked as if I’d struck her. “Ajeile...what I did was wrong. I never

meant to hurt you or any of the others. You were never meant to find out. I didn’t...I never
expected you to develop feelings for me.”

“And why not? A lovely, polite, intelligent man, who’s great in bed and—” She covered her

mouth again. “I’m such an idiot.”

The tears fell unhindered as she shuddered. If she was acting, she had a world-class talent.
I reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Not an idiot. But you shouldn’t get involved in this.

I want you to do something for me, if you can.”

She hiccupped, but her eyes met mine unflinchingly. “Anything. I want to help you.”
“Then if that’s true, go back to Kregan, tell him what I said, that I’d been lying, that I’d

deceived you. Tell him that you hate me and never want to see me again. He’ll understand—and
he’ll protect you.”

“But I don’t hate—”
“Then lie, Ajeile. My life’s ruined, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I don’t

want yours on my conscience. Will you?”

“But that doesn’t help you—”
“It will. I’m asking it of you. Please.”
“Don’t you want me to take any messages to anyone?”
I stiffened—was it a trap, or the act of a generous woman? I couldn’t take the chance.
“No.” I told the bare truth. “I don’t want my friends involved in this through no fault of their

own. Go home, forget about me.”

She shook her head, her perfect glossy hair swinging across her face. “I can’t. Even

though...it’s not real to me. Do you really prefer men? Is it better for you here?”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, it’s great. You have no idea. Cocks down my—”
Her eyes widened in horror.
“Sorry. I’m being vulgar.” I set her hand free, and got up. “Go home, Ajeile. Think of me as

dead.”

And then I walked to the guards. “Done here.”
I didn’t turn to look, but I heard a chair scraping and the quick clack-clack of women’s

shoes. I hoped I’d convinced her. If she was a spy, she’d learned nothing. If she wasn’t, then I
could only hope she would forget her foolish delusion.

The guard grabbed my arms and marched me out of the room, and back to the hydroponics

garden. As I pulled on my boots and coat, Ganwe came up—checking his property.

“Who was it?”
“Just a silly twit,” I said coldly. “Got rid of her.”
“Good. Nugiwe’s been waiting for you,” he said, jerking his thumb over at one of my

‘regulars’.

“Good for Nugiwe. My life’s so much better now everyone knows what I am, don’t you

think?”

Ganwe frowned. “You okay, Jodi?”
I sneered at him and stalked over to Nugiwe, who turned and led the way into the storeroom,

a place rapidly becoming the setting for all my nightmares, but which right now offered the only
distraction against thinking about what had happened.

Ganwe left me mostly alone the rest of the afternoon, and didn’t press when we returned to

the cell. Even before lights out, I lay on my bunk, arm over my eyes, trying to get to sleep. There
wasn’t much else to do. Ganwe had offered me books if I wanted them, but I’d found what that
volunteer, Mis Kolmi, had said was true—it was impossible to read for any length of time under
the influence of naksen, even if I’d been fascinated by the lurid trash that was all the prison had
to offer.

I wished Ajeile hadn’t come. Even though I was unsure of her motivation, she’d still given

me a glimpse of my old life I didn’t want. And now I had the additional crime on my conscience
of having toyed with her emotions. I could say all I wanted that I hadn’t meant to. I should have
thought about it. I’d treated those women—good, decent, kind people—as disposable props in my
life. Just as I’d treated the para volunteers as foot soldiers while I played the great general,
sending them off to suffer and die for my glory. I deserved what had happened to me. I’d been
kidding myself that I was an innocent victim, but my hands were bloody.

“We get more visitors in a bit.”
Ganwe’s tone was matter of fact as if in continuation of a conversation we’d been having,

instead of coming out of the blue after nearly half an hour’s silence. “Them Marranite Brethren

people, every six months, regular. Government lets them come in, visit prisoners, make sure
there’s no abuse going on. It’s a joke.”

“Yes, I’m sure. You don’t get any other visitors, then? Not real ones?”
“No one around to come. Family’s dead. Wife buggered off years ago. Don’t care. What

would I say to ‘em, huh? Nothing to talk about—nothing changes in here. Some blokes, they get
visitors the first year or so. Not many do after that. ‘S what I mean. You gotta look after yourself
in here. No one else gives a shit.”

I shouldn’t get into these conversations, I thought. They made prison seem even bleaker.

“But you’ll get out one day. You’re only serving eight years.”

“Yeah. Probably be back inside within a couple of months. Always happens.”
“You plan it that way?”
“No. Just happens. Like life. I ain’t got big plans, Jodi. Just want to survive. Don’t make

much difference where I am.”

“I wanted to change the world.”
“I think it changed you. ‘S how it works.” Silence for a few moments, then, “So she wasn’t

your girlfriend or nothing, eh?”

“She was a fool who fell for a fool. I’m going to sleep.”
The lights went off then, and Ganwe said nothing more. I didn’t know why I’d been so harsh

about Ajeile, but I did hate her a little bit. For loving me, for being brave when I didn’t deserve it,
for maybe being a spy, or maybe someone’s pawn. I decided then and there I wouldn’t call
anyone else next time the calls were allowed. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, or to hear
pathetic desperation in my voice, or to know how frightened and lonely I was. Bad enough to go
through it myself. No one else had to share it.

Chapter Seven

Time became measured by the periods of withdrawal, and my daily routine varied so little

that one day tended to blur into another, even when I wasn’t sick and mostly unaware. I tried to
pay no attention to the men I had to service, though I couldn’t help but notice that not all of them
were prisoners. Ganwe had cast his net wider. I apparently did my job too well, and the guards
wanted a piece of me too. I wished they’d trade blowjobs for the drug, but I never got a reprieve.
Every seven days or so, the guards took me to the medical wing to have the reservoir filled—
almost filled—and every time, Ganwe meticulously took his cut. No more, no less.

He refused to talk about what would happen when he’d paid off his debt. I suspected the

naksen was too profitable for him to give up. He offered to cut the naksen in my arm with water,
but that was a risky business, and with the quality of the water available, I could easily end up
losing my arm altogether to infection. I began, very slowly, to get used to the withdrawal
symptoms, but they never dropped in severity, and probably wouldn’t do so now. Ganwe had
worked out a way of coaxing me to taking fluids at least, and from somewhere had managed to
get hold of fruit juice—more bribery, no doubt. That lessened the impact of the days when I
simply couldn’t eat, but couldn’t remove it altogether. If my duties on the farm had been any
more arduous, then I’d have been in trouble already.

Ganwe was always solicitous of my wellbeing, insisting I rest if I looked pale or tired,

though that didn’t extend to turning away customers. Business was always the most important
thing with him, whatever his personal feelings. I didn’t think those extended past being worried
about losing a valuable commodity. The only thing that stopped me hating him more than I did
was the strong suspicion that Ganwe had himself been bought and sold in the past, and that, for
him, this was the way the world worked. We didn’t talk about it. I had my own troubles to bear, I
didn’t want his.

No one called, and Ajeile didn’t attempt to visit again or write. It made me glad, but also

irrationally disappointed. Unfair of me to blame her for doing exactly what I’d told her to do, but
I wasn’t in a mood to be fair to anyone these days. It shocked me sometimes to realise how much
of my life I spent in dull resentment, but I had so little else to occupy my thoughts, and so much
to be resentful about.

At least it made a change from being terrified all the time. Ganwe’s protection insulated me

from the worst horrors of the prison, though I saw them. The constant undercurrent of violence in
the place directly threatened me twice. Once, in the exercise room, when Ganwe had gone to use
the toilet, two men decided they’d like to take for free what Ganwe charged for, and forced me up
against a corner. But the guards stepped in with suspicious speed, and dealt brutally with the

offenders. I didn’t have to say a word.

When a ‘customer’ let his homophobic disgust at what he forced me to do, spill over me in a

violent rage, Ganwe himself was on him so fast I barely had time to get out of the way. Without
even breaking into a sweat, he left the man with a broken jaw and, most likely, internal injuries.
He checked I wasn’t hurt, told me to get back to work, then strolled back to his own tasks as if
nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, while the guards dragged out the man he’d brutally
beaten. Ganwe didn’t have to worry the assault would be investigated. The guards knew to keep
him happy.

I thought I’d been in the prison about two months when two guards turned up again at the

farm, looking for me. I was in the storeroom, enduring yet another bout of withdrawal, and barely
registered what they wanted. They dragged me to my feet and forced me out of the storeroom,
taking me out of the hydroponics area altogether. They made no concessions to my stumbling
pace or my inability to walk upright for the pain, and it was all I could do to not puke as they
hauled me along.

I couldn’t track where we went, except that I noticed when we entered an elevator and

travelled some distance—up or down, I had no idea. When we emerged, the ground was carpeted.
Offices, maybe. They took me to a room that looked a little like the conference room back at the
labs, containing a long wooden table with chairs around it. They forced me into one of them,
chained my legs to the chair and cuffed my hands, but then left me alone, shivering and
cramping, head hanging down because the lights were too bright for me and made my eyes water
uncontrollably.

A little while later, the door behind me opened, and I heard footsteps walking toward me on

the carpet. Someone stood on the other side of the table from me. I looked up. Even with my
blurry vision, there was no mistaking the tall, imposing figure in front of me.

“K-Kregan.” Had he come to help me?
“Sit up, prisoner.” Who was that? “Kregan, what the hell is wrong with him?”
Someone else, another man, stood behind me. I cringed at his yelling, but could do nothing

to quell my convulsive trembling, my jerking against the restraints that had nothing to do with
my desire to get away from this place.

“Withdrawal. Marra’s tits.” Clipped, angry tone, and then footsteps, door opening and

closing. Was I alone again? I didn’t know. Made no difference to me.

Time passed, and despite everything, I started to doze, the energy involved in all the shaking

wearing me out. I heard the door, more footsteps, and then someone jerked my head back by a
grip on my jaw. Kregan again. He wiped my neck with something cold, and then I felt a hiss and
a sharp sting against my jugular vein, which made me squirm and try to get away from him.

“Stay still, you bloody idiot. It’s only naksen.”
He removed the hypospray and stepped back. Within seconds, I felt the drug in my system,

the shaking easing. The cramps would take a little longer to go. My brain started to work again,
although sluggishly.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Are you getting me out of here?”
“Hardly.” His voice was chilly. “Sir? He’s ready.”
Kregan moved to the other side of the table, and another man joined him, an older man with

hatchet features and iron-grey hair, thinning on top. Never seen him before. I disliked him on
sight. This was the owner of the shouting voice I’d heard earlier.

“Who are you?”
“Pregar Noret. Head of The National Security Force. Sit up, prisoner.”
I did my best, but they had me pretty tightly restrained. Kregan had on his most intense

expression of disapproval as Noret continued.

“I’ll come to the point. You are a convicted terrorist, a covert paranormal. Under the laws of

Pindone, your life is forfeit, should I choose. I could have you taken out and hanged this minute,
and not a soul in the world could stop me. You understand me?”

“Yes. Sir, I—”
“Be quiet!” I winced at the volume of his bellow. “I can do whatever I like with you. And if

that means letting you rot in this place for the rest of your life, I can do that too. However, I have
a use for you. What?”

I’d been shifting around in my seat, and he’d finally registered that I wanted something.
“Water?” The naksen made my mouth dry and really, after weeks in prison, this man’s

bullying bluster didn’t impress me at all. It made me tired, trying to concentrate on his angry
words, and I doubted it was worth the effort.

“Don’t push your luck, Jodimai.” That was Kregan.
“Just thirsty, sir. What do you want?” I asked Noret.
“A bit more respect, for a start.”
I looked at him, almost wanting to laugh. I was past the point of cringing in fear at thugs like

him. I let the sedating effect of the naksen float away my anxiety. It was all it was good for,
really.

“Kregan, I thought you said—”
“Sir, please. Perhaps if you just told him.”
“Huh. Very well.” He folded his arms and glared at me. “I’m offering you a role in Security.

We have a very small group of criminals with special skills—paranormals like yourself—whom
the government has determined can still contribute to the welfare of the country. It would be a
chance to repay your debt to society.”

“W-work? For you?” I glanced at Kregan—no clues from him at all. His expression hadn’t

changed. “Doing what?”

“Matters arising from security issues. Covert operations against hostile foreign states, or

against internal enemies. That kind of thing.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes, looking at Kregan
instead.

“You mean...be a weapon for Pindone?”
He huffed a bit. “Well, yes. If you want to see it that way.”
“Killing people?”
“Possibly. Under strictly controlled cond—”
“No.” I blinked slowly, thinking my answer over and finding no reason to revise it. “Can I

have some water, please?”

He half rose out of his seat. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“No. I don’t want to kill. I’d still be a prisoner, right?”
“Of course. But you would have certain privileges, certain liberties. You wouldn’t be here.

You wouldn’t be on naksen.”

His voice took on a slight wheedling tone, and that decided me—though the temptation was

strong, so very strong. It helped that I didn’t like him at all.

“No. I’m a doctor. I don’t kill people. I don’t fight, and if I’m going to be a prisoner, at least

I know I’m not hurting anyone if I stay here. Can I have some water?”

Noret leaned forward and actually struck me across the face with his clenched fist, splitting

my top lip. The pain shocked the breath out of me, and it was some seconds before I could get
past that and affect a sneer.

“That supposed to convince me?”
“You arrogant fool! Kregan, talk to him!”
He got up and stalked away across the room. Kregan didn’t move, regarding me with his

strange eyes.

“I lied to Ajeile,” I mumbled, swallowing some of the blood trickling from my lip. So damn

thirsty—would it kill them to give me a glass of water? “I tricked her. She didn’t know I was
homosexual.”

“Yes, she said. I’m extremely disappointed in you, Jodi.”
“Didn’t lie about the other thing. You have to believe me.” He didn’t say anything. “You

won’t help me?”

“You want help, I suggest you do what Pregar Noret wants. There’s nothing I can do for

you.”

“You’re a doctor. How can you ask me to do this?”
“Pindone needs the help paranormals can give it. Certain paranormals. I thought you were

more stable than most.”

I grinned at him, showing him the blood on my teeth. “I’m crazier than I was.”
“Oh, for Marra’s sake.” Noret stomped back over to the table, and shook me by the shoulder.

“You’re wasting my time. Go back to your cell, prisoner. I can wait. I’ve been in this security

game for a very, very long time. A few months, even a few years, waiting for you to see sense, is
nothing to me. You’re nothing to me. Your only value is your paranormal powers. If you won’t
use those in the service of our country, then you can die here. Kregan, we’re leaving.”

He walked to the door. Kregan got to his feet, then looked down at me from his great height.
“Jodi—this really is the only chance you’ll have of getting out of here.”
“Yes. I understand. I’m not a killer, sir.”
Did I imagine the very slight sympathy in those cold eyes? Probably. Kregan hated

dishonesty, and I’d apparently practiced a dreadful deception on him. He turned away and
followed Noret to the door. I started to shake again—nothing to do with the drug, simply pure
adrenaline reaction. I had a feeling I’d very quickly regret my decision, but it felt good to make
an active choice that really was a choice. A costly and probably pointless choice, but it meant a
lot to me. I felt a tiny bit more powerful than I had before I’d been brought into the room.

A minute or so after they left, the guards came in and unchained me, then took me back to

the farm. Ganwe immediately noted that I wasn’t in withdrawal any more.

“Don’t even think about using me today,” I growled at him. I knew how his mind worked.
He pursed his lips and glanced around to see who could overhear us. “Watch your mouth,

Jodi.”

“No. I don’t think I will.”
I walked into the storeroom and found my usual spot to hide, beside a stack of crates, under a

couple of old sacks. It gave me the illusion of privacy and warmth when I was in withdrawal, if
not the reality. A couple of minutes later, Ganwe came in after me and crouched in front of me.

“Anyone asks, I was the one who belted you,” he said, touching my face.
I jerked away from his hand.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. Nothing happened, nothing’s changed. Except I’m getting really sick of sucking

cock to increase your supply of sweets, Ganwe. I think that’s going to stop.”

He grabbed the front of my overalls and dragged me up close. “That ain’t the reason. And

if’n you don’t work for me, I’m throwing you back to the rest of them. No one shares my cell if’n
they don’t work for me. You’ll make me look bad.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” I laughed, a tad hysterically, right in his face.
I expected to be hit, but he frowned, then let me go, pushing me back almost gently against

the wall. “Tell me what happened. Who belted you?”

“Oh, just the head of the National Security Force. He wants me to work for him. As an

assassin.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Huh.”
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“Well. Stands to reason, don’t it? You got something the Nats need. They want you to be

their boy.”

“Like you want me. They gave me a choice too.” I looked him in the eye. “I turned them

down. I’m turning you down. I’m sick of this. You can beat me up, you can kill me. No more.”

“That the worse you can think up? Being beaten up? Being dead? How about crippled, Jodi?

How about having to shit through a tube for the rest of your life? How about losing an arm or a
leg, or being blinded?”

“You wouldn’t.”
“No. Cos basically, it ain’t worth it. But I throw you back out there, you been my boy, you

think them others gonna go easy on you?”

“I don’t care.”
He shook me by the shoulders. “Yes, you do. You will. By the time you wished you listened

to me, it’ll be too late. I don’t understand your problem. You like sucking cock, don’t ya? Being a
deev?”

I regarded him in sheer disbelief. “Are you out of your mind? That’s like asking a woman if

she likes being raped because she enjoys sex with men. Please don’t tell me you’re stupid enough
to believe that, because I don’t think you are.”

He scratched his head and appeared genuinely confused by my answer. “I guess I thought it

was different for men. For deevs, anyway.”

Good grief. “No, it’s not. And another thing—how much more naksen do you owe the

guards?”

“Fourteen myclits. If I don’t pay, they’ll take you out again. I ain’t gonna—”
“Shut up, Ganwe,” I said tiredly. “I want you to pay it off faster. Take the maximum out, get

it over and done with. And then no more. You don’t take any more from me.”

He regarded me thoughtfully, and without anger, which surprised me. I’d expected an

explosion. “You’ll be sick almost every day, Jodi. And I need that naksen for other deals—”

I grabbed him by his overalls and dragged him close. He blinked in surprise, too shocked to

belt me, fortunately.

“Listen to me. You don’t get it. It’s over. No more cock sucking, no more naksen thieving.

You don’t scare me any more. So kill me or shut up. I’m not a possession. Not for them, not for
you.”

He pulled my hands off his clothes, but he still didn’t swing at me. “So you’re ready to be a

boss yourself, is that it? Cos you only got two choices in here—boss or boy. Ready for all that
means?”

“Not playing, Ganwe.”
“This ain’t no game, you stupid fuck! This is life and death stuff. I do like you say, cut you

loose, you either have to be a boss or you’re gonna get eaten! Jodi, I’m trying to stop you making
a stupid mistake. If you wanted out so bad, why didn’t you take up their offer?”

“What’s the thing you want most in life? Money? Freedom? A beautiful woman? Big

house?”

He sat back on his haunches, clearly bewildered by the sudden change in topic. “All of them,

I guess.”

“Would you do anything to get them?” He was still confused. “If I said, hey, Ganwe, here’s

the key to a house and a million in the bank, and this fabulous looking girl will do anything you
ask her to, would you fuck someone to get it?”

“Sure.”
“Would you fuck a toddler?”
He looked about to punch me, his hands bunching into massive fists. “That ain’t funny.”
“No, but that’s my point. Everyone’s got a line they won’t cross. They wanted me to kill

people. That’s why I turned them down. But it made me realise that I do have a choice, I do have
power, even if I have to pay for it. So, I’m saying no more cock sucking, no more theft. Do your
worst. You warned me. Can’t say you didn’t.”

I turned my head so I didn’t have to look at him. Noret and Kregan had made a mistake

giving me the naksen shot. If I’d still been in withdrawal, I’d have done anything they wanted. I
wasn’t that brave. As the silence went on, my courage started to disintegrate. Ganwe wasn’t
exaggerating the situation. I’d seen enough now to know that.

“Look, Jodi. You’re putting me in a bad position here. And I don’t want to see ya pissing

away your health to score a point off me. You lose fingers, eyes, a kidney—ain’t gonna be much
of a consolation to ya. Can we make a deal?”

He was trying to meet me halfway. That wasn’t something Ganwe ever did. Never had to.

Compromise wasn’t part of his technique. It was enough to get my attention.

“Tell me what you propose.”
In the end, neither of us got our way entirely, but it was still an improvement, at least for me.

The sex trading was an integral part of the prison economy, and if I wasn’t part of it, then I’d lose
any negotiating power on my own behalf or on Ganwe’s. So we agreed that I’d become an active
participant. I could choose or refuse a man, and provided I wasn’t too picky, Ganwe thought it
might even raise my value, though he warned me it could backfire, which I acknowledged as a
risk.

I hadn’t realised that a queue had formed for my services. Ironic that I’d trained all those

years as a doctor only to find my blowjob technique would be the making of me. I wouldn’t be
servicing many men in the next four weeks anyway. The withdrawal would be rough, but worth it
to get the debt off my back. I got the slight feeling Ganwe was relieved I’d taken a stand over
that. Watching me in withdrawal every week couldn’t have been pleasant, and it cost him in
customers for my other services. When it came down to it, I’d rather suck cock than go through
withdrawal, but I had a choice which one I went for. Not how I wanted to spend the rest of my

life, but it was the best I could hope for now.

It was brutal, that next month. My resolve to do it so hard and fast weakened every single

time I started to show severe symptoms—fortunately, too late to go back on it. Once I’d got a
new dose, I reminded myself that I had knocked another week down and survived it, and I
managed to steel myself to face it again. The naksen helped in that, ironically. It dulled the
memory of pain, dulled everything so it was all slightly more bearable. The thought of giving in
to Noret still constantly tempted me. What Noret didn’t know was how long I’d spent fighting
my own desires, my own nature. Those years of hiding my sexuality had given me more
backbone than I realised. I wasn’t proud of it. It was merely a fact like my cursed pyrokinesis.

No one contacted me. I’d half expected Noret to check up, see if I’d changed my mind, but

nothing. I supposed he thought I’d come crawling back, and find a way to contact him. But I had
the upper hand here. He’d overplayed it, wheedling, bullying, trying bribery. Bringing Kregan in
showed his desperation. I didn’t like the man. Spitting in his eye by not playing his game was an
incentive in itself. The lustre of victory might wear off in a year or so, but for now, the idea of
that creep spluttering with rage over my refusal gave me some of the strength to get through it.

The day finally came when I returned from the medic, and Ganwe didn’t tell me to roll up

my sleeve. I had grown very thin and now had hardly any stamina. Another week like the last one
would probably have been the end of me.

He looked at me as I walked in and climbed up onto my bunk rather shakily, then he came

over and leaned his elbows on my bunk.

“You know you could sell that junk for a lot of favours. Don’t have to be every week.”
“I know. It’s not up for negotiation, Ganwe.”
“Okay. I can’t help it. I sees an opportunity, I got to go for it. It’s my nature.”
I rolled over and looked at him as I lay on my side. “Yes, I know that too.”
“You still hate me?”
I chuckled. He sounded so mournful. “You said yourself, you’re not a nice man.”
“No. I ain’t the worst, though.”
“No, you aren’t.”
A worse man had walked in, struck a chained man, and tried to force me to work for him.

Ganwe kept telling me I’d get used to prison eventually—I doubted it, somehow. But at least I
could live with my conscience. If I worked for Noret, even my soul wouldn’t be my own any
more.

Chapter Eight

It became easier after that, though never actually easy, or pleasant. The new arrangement

about sexual transactions caused some trouble, and Ganwe had to beat some heads together when
men were turned down for past misbehaviour or present poor hygiene. But I made an extra effort
to please those I did accept, and word got around that it was worth being vetted. Just as Ganwe
predicted, he could then charge slightly more for my services.

None of the payments were in actual money, of course, since it was worthless in here, and

virtually unobtainable. The currency in the prison varied considerably. Food was the big one—it
came in through parcels sent by relatives, through trustees with access to the prison shop, and
guards wanting drugs or sex. None of the prisoners used naksen unless forced to, for the simple
reason it was too valuable, and getting hooked with no certainty of supply wasn’t worth it. A
small amount of alcohol could be had, and things like books, toiletries, pictures of naked women,
and even a couple of carefully preserved sex toys, were traded, as well as a frightening number of
homemade weapons. I had no interest in it. My arrangement with Ganwe was simply for
protection. I had no use for the rest, and didn’t want to carry a weapon even if I’d had the first
idea what to do with one.

A month after I paid off his naksen debt, the medic surprised me on my regular medical

appointment by completely filling my implant reservoir. He treated me with as much disdain as
ever, so I doubted he’d had a change of heart.

I told Ganwe, expecting an attempt to wheedle those extra myclits from me as he did every

so often, but he just went, “Huh. They’re early.”

“‘They’?”
“The Brethren. Them Marranite busybodies. I done told you,” he added, shaking his head

impatiently at my stupidity.

“Oh yes. I don’t see the connection.”
He pointed at my arm. “Can’t risk them seeing you jerking all over the place, can they?

Embarrassing for the big men here. Things’ll be pretty good over the next week, then it’ll be back
to the same shit as before. Watch and see.”

He was quite right. Our diets suddenly improved, and there was a flurry of dental and

medical checkups. Our worn overalls mysteriously disappeared, and ragged shoes were replaced.
We were all given a luxurious three days’ exercise time under the sun replacement lamps—our
pasty complexions needed improving. I regarded it all with cynical amusement. I had nothing
against the Marranite charities who did some much needed work among the poor and unwanted,
but if they were fooled by this nonsense, I didn’t think much of their analytical skills.

My opinion would be of no importance to them, of course. Only a small minority of

Marranites—basically only the Children of Marra—considered paranormals abominations, along
with any infertile or genetically defective person. But all of Marranism took a very dim view of
homosexuality because of the importance of families to their beliefs, and of making and raising
children, so I was damned whichever line they took. Spiritism’s tolerance of ‘deviants’ was
another reason that the religion had been suppressed with such enthusiasm. The likes of me had
no spiritual haven. I couldn’t dredge up much regret over that—not after everything else.

So my strongest emotion over the upcoming visitation was simply relief at being spared any

withdrawal symptoms this week, though Ganwe warned me that the medic would probably
scrape back what he’d given me this time. I tried not to think about that because the only way I
got through any of this was to refuse to think about the bad things waiting in store for me. I had a
lifetime of them to look forward to. What was the point of living them twice?

The other prisoners were similarly unmoved. I heard a few jokes about some of the Brethren

females being ‘doable’ and fantastic plans were hatched to secrete them off to a side room and
have their way with them, but no one had much interest in the religious side of it at all. Most, like
Ganwe, saw it all as a sop to popular sentiment, and of no enduring benefit to the prisoners
themselves.

Ganwe told me the Marranites would be here for a few days, seeing prisoners, doing random

inspections of cells and so on. I looked meaningfully at his collection of ladies on the walls and
he grinned.

“Guards know better than to let them idiots near my cell. They’ll herd them down another

hall. This is a sacred monument, this is,” he said, stroking one of the pictures fondly. Other
prisoners sometimes paid to look at his collection. Wasted on me, of course.

We knew when it was to be our day to be ‘visited’ because we were taken back to our cells

after breakfast instead of the farm or to the exercise room. Already bored by the whole thing,
Ganwe lay on his bunk whistling tunelessly and picking his teeth. I did some of the light
callisthenics I’d started doing since I’d been freed of the punishing cycle of naksen withdrawals,
trying to get a little fitter and put on some muscle mass—perhaps rather pointless but to abandon
such a lifelong habit meant giving up.

The guards collected us at ten to join a group of twenty prisoners being taken to the visitors’

room. Twice our number of sky-blue-robed men and women met us there, all tidy and clean and
holy, heads covered, protective symbols around their necks and gloved hands to prevent our skin
contaminating them. They wouldn’t have admitted that was the reason, but my mother had made
me cynical. A guard read our names off a list, and as each one was called, two of the Brethren—
always a man and a woman—came up and guided the person away to one of the tables for a
private chat. No one had asked me at any point if I even wanted to see these bloody people. Only
curiosity stopped me telling the guard that I didn’t.

The guard called my name, and my two minders approached, smiling politely. I scraped up

what was left of my manners to do the same. The plain, middle-aged woman had kind, rather
tired eyes. The man—

Huh. What was left of my libido poked its head up and decided there might be an upside to

this nonsense after all. While I stared at him, the woman greeted me.

“Brother Jodimai, the blessing of his Mercy on you. Please come with us.”
She put her hand on my arm, and I let them lead me over to the table. The modest robes with

the long cape disguised the outline of their bodies pretty well, so I couldn’t tell what the guy was
like. The outfits only left their faces exposed, but that was enough, at least in his case. He had the
most extraordinary dark, long-lashed eyes, and strong, narrow features that I found curiously
appealing. Of course, I couldn’t do more than look, but he was the most normal and attractive
person I’d seen in months. For some reason they had amazingly ugly guards in prison, and the
prisoners...well, the conditions and the shaven heads made everyone look old and grey and worn
out.

I suddenly hated these people for flaunting their health and freedom in my face like this. As I

sat down, I looked the woman in the eye.

“Anyone tell you I’m a deev?”
I expected some slight disapproval, had hoped for open-mouthed shock, but she only smiled.

“Marra loves all his children, brother Jodimai.”

I did a double-take. “Really?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Are you sure you’re a

Marranite?”

Shut up, Jodi.
I jumped as a voice sounded in my head. I looked around to see who or what was doing it.
Knock it off! Do you want the guards to see you? Look at me. Yeah, me.
I turned and found Big Eyes staring at me with an intent expression.
Name’s Kirvo, not ‘Big Eyes’. I’m a deev too, just so you know. And a paranormal. We’re

here to get you out of this place.

I froze, utterly shocked as the woman—Jeyle, Kirvo supplied—babbled harmlessly about

Marranism and how it was their duty to see all his creations were well cared for. Kirvo was still
watching me.

How? I asked.
Wait. We have to go through with this for a few minutes. Try to look as if you’re listening to

her.

Who are you people?
We’re not the government. It’s easier to show you than tell you.
My heart thumped so hard I thought I’d be sick. Was it possible? Was this one of Noret’s

tricks?

No, it’s not. I can’t really prove that to you, but we don’t work for him. He can’t be trusted,

Jodi.

How do you know my pet name?
He smiled, revealing amazingly white and pretty teeth. Telepath, huh. It’s going to be fine,

trust me.

I...do I have a choice?
He frowned. Uh, sure you do. If you really want to go back in there and spend the rest of

your life sucking cocks, be my guest. Otherwise, we’re the only way you’re getting out of here
unless you want to play Noret’s game. You already said you didn’t.

Stop reading my thoughts!
A little hard not to, pal. We went to a lot of trouble to get in here to find you, so make up

your fucking mind. Stay or go.

Jeyle was still talking—was she a paranormal too or was Kirvo controlling her? Was he

controlling me?

Go, I finally said. But you better not be tricking me.
I’m on your side, kid. Lay off the dirty looks.
Which only made me glare at him. He smiled serenely back.
‘Kid’?
Hey, I’m older than you.
How the shitting hell do you know so much about me? And why are you rescuing me and not

any of the other paranormals?

His expression turned serious. You’re the only major talent in this prison, and we can’t

rescue everyone. Wish we could, but there’s no way....

Jeyle glanced at him with sympathy, and I realised she’d been listening to the conversation

the entire time. I heard her voice in my head. We can’t help them all, unfortunately. If you want,
you can help us help the others. Your powers could be very useful.

So you want to use me like Noret?
Kirvo winced. No. We want to stop you being used by Noret. Look sharp, it’s time.
What are you going to do?
Jeyle put her hands to her lips. “Let him concentrate,” she whispered, then her expression

became rather distant. Was she a telepath too?

I ought to have been more shocked, but so many extraordinary and horrible things had

happened to me this year that I had become numb. If Kirvo and Jeyle weren’t insane, and they
really could get me out of here, then great. I refused to think about being free until it actually
happened.

Kirvo arched an eyebrow at me as I had that thought, then went back to whatever he was

doing.

The room fell silent quite suddenly—shockingly so, because the noise of sixty or more

people, even talking at low volume, had been considerable. Now the only sound was the clicking
of the timekeeper on the wall.

“Okay, move.” Kirvo stood, grabbing my arm. Jeyle took my other one.
“The guards!”
“All sorted. Move, Jodi!”
All the guards in the room were looking at their feet. Everyone else stared at their hands or

the table in front of them. The security skimmers in the corners were turned away. No one would
see us leave, but how could we get past the rest of the security?

The same way, it seemed. We walked quickly down halls and into elevators and up stairs,

and at every point, people stopped and looked away, and skimmers jerked to point at ceilings and
floors.

“You can’t possibly get away with this,” I muttered as they dragged me along.
“We already are,” Jeyle said confidently, eyes bright and excited. “Keep moving!”
It took a very long time, and I expected to be stopped at any moment. Surely Kirvo’s powers

weren’t so great that he could control hundreds of people throughout this enormous underground
complex? But we continued up and up, without a single person challenging us. It was the furthest
I’d walked in months, and my wasted physique wasn’t up to it. Damned if I would let that stop
me.

Finally, when I was trembling from fear and exhaustion, we reached the last checkpoint,

standing before a pair of massive metal doors. As a smaller hatch near the bottom swung open,
my knees gave out under me, the tension and exertion too much to bear any longer. Kirvo
grabbed me around the waist.

Hold on, you’ll be fine. Jeyle’s got us.
We began to rise off the floor and then floated through the personnel hatch. By that point, I

had no more amazement left in me. If either of them had become invisible, I’d have thought, “Oh,
interesting.”

More shocks as I found myself plunged into paralysing cold, wrapped in freezing fog, and

standing on icy ground. It was deep winter, and I only wore thin overalls. The deadly cold sucked
all the breath from my body, and I began to shiver so hard I couldn’t even talk—worse than being
back in withdrawal. Kirvo’s arms around me didn’t do a damn thing to help.

“Quick, Kir, your cloak,” Jeyle ordered.
In seconds, I found myself wrapped in Kirvo’s outer cloak, and then his arms again. It did

little more than cut out the wind. I tucked my hands in against him and buried my face against his
cloth-covered neck.

Bear it for a little bit, okay? We’ve got stuff stashed but we need to get out of here. Jeyle,

let’s go.

We rose through the enveloping icy fog, over a snowy, mountainous landscape. I still had no

idea where I was in Pindone. At this point, I didn’t care.

Kirvo held me tight, his face against mine, his breath billowing in warm clouds around me—

not enough to keep me from becoming dangerously chilled, but I didn’t mind. I was outside.
They’d done it. At that point, if they’d revealed themselves to be working for Noret after all, I
almost wouldn’t have given a damn.

“B-better not b-be a d-dream.”
His arms tightened around me. No dream. Jeyle, love, make it faster, will you? His brain’s

turning to ice.

She flew us through a mountain pass that looked the same as every other mountain pass,

knife-like black rocks covered in snow and ice and wreathed in low cloud, and then brought us
down into a tiny snowfield, sheltered between two looming crags. An orange, heavy-weather tent
had been erected there. It didn’t look like a proper camping site—more as if the tent had been
dropped there and left.

“Pity your talent’s still suppressed, we could do with a fire,” Kirvo said to me. “Hop inside,

Jodi, and put on the clothes in there. Hurry. We’ve got a long way to go. There’s water and food
if you need it.”

I was too excited and stressed and cold to be hungry, but the idea of warmer clothes had me

diving inside the tent. I jumped as the zip opened again.

“Only me. Here, put this heater on.” He handed me a little battery-operated blow heater. It

would only work for about an hour without recharging, but it warmed up the space quickly and
efficiently.

My hands, which had been clumsy with cold, thawed, and I could finally fumble the overalls

open. A couple of packs stood there. As I opened one, I nearly cried at the sight of normal
clothes. Was it really over, or had I exchanged one dangerous situation for another? Too late. I
was committed.

I managed the thermal underwear—all new, and beautifully warm and soft—but then I found

it harder to get the rest of it on. After a minute or so, Kirvo stuck his head back in and saw I still
struggled with the clothes, the cold and the naksen making it difficult.

“Want a hand?”
He crawled in and helped me with the zips and fasteners, pulled the socks and boots on my

feet, then tucked everything in. All the clothes were the right size for what I’d been before prison
—a suspicious fact in itself, but not something I wanted to argue about. He jammed a woollen hat
on my head, arranged the neck and face protector so they covered everything essential, and pulled
the hood of my coat over my head. He’d shed the Marranite costume, and was dressed same as
me. All he had to do was add a coat, gloves, and protectors, and then we were both as muffled
and warm as it was possible to be.

“Want some water?”
I didn’t, but I knew the risks of dehydration in these temperatures, and I had no idea how

long we’d be subjected to them, so I accepted the canteen and a couple of energy bars. He barely
gave me time to eat them before Jeyle told us to hurry up, she was freezing her bloody tits off,
which made Kirvo grin.

“Come on, we need to collapse the tent. Can’t leave any evidence.”
With the warmer clothes, the cold was tolerable. Jeyle had changed too. They were well-

prepared and reassuringly well-organised. Dismantling and packing the tent and the small amount
of equipment took less than five minutes. Kirvo hoisted the two large packs onto his shoulders.
The three of us rose into the air a little way, and Jeyle used her powers to dump a mound of snow
where the tent had rested, obliterating all trace of our brief presence.

Kirvo turned to me. “Okay, Jodi, this is gonna take about an hour. If you can’t cope, speak

up, and we can stop, but we’ve got to get the hell out of this area.”

“I can cope. Just get me out of here.”
He smiled, the long eyelashes on those stupidly lush eyes already beginning to collect a little

snow from that swirling around us. He took my hand, and Jeyle took his. Silent as the falling
snow itself, we rose again, and then began to fly across the mountains, through clouds, and below
a shrouded sun.

It was the strangest experience of a very strange year, but the most beautiful. Though I

shivered constantly with cold, even through all the layers of high-tech cold-proofed clothing, I
couldn’t stop staring at the vision below me—snow fields and mountains and frozen rivers and
the tops of snow-covered trees. Endless and perfect and white. So much space after months and
months of concrete walls and narrow halls and the tiny, crowded cell. Clean air that didn’t taste
or smell like it had been breathed a million times. And arms around me that weren’t a prelude to
having my face fucked.

I didn’t know whether I was even happy or shocked or frightened. Suddenly, my emotions

overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t hold it back any more.

Kirvo tugged me close against him. Hey, why are you crying?
I swiped at the freezing tears on my cheeks, grateful not to have to try to speak. You’re the

telepath, you tell me.

You didn’t want me reading your mind. It’s nearly over, Jodi.
Nearly?
You have to detox. Really detox. Ain’t gonna be fun, but you already know that.
I hadn’t even thought about it, but of course if I wanted to be free of the naksen, then there

was only one way to do that. At least I won’t be in prison.

No. And we’ll make it as easy as we can. You won’t be alone. His dark, beautiful eyes stared

into mine and they comforted me, even though I had no idea why.

Why do I feel like I’ve known you all my life?
He smiled. I’m just a friendly kinda guy. We’re nearly there—ten minutes or so.
Ten minutes, ten hours, I didn’t care.
“My life’s never going to be normal again, is it?” The biting cold tore the words from my

lips.

It’s going to be better than normal. You won’t have to hide who you are any more.
I’d paid a hell of a lot for that freedom. I didn’t know yet if it was worth the price.
We had travelled at least two hundred pardecs, probably more, and had come once again to

the mountains. We had to be either north or northwest because I’d seen the distant massive
plumes of steam rising from an active volcano, and those were rare in Pindone. I didn’t want to
ask—afraid being nosy would get me dropped from a great height—but it hardly mattered. We
were a long way from the prison, and that was the important thing.

Kirvo spoke into a communicator, telling someone we were coming in, and Jeyle brought us

down on a small flat area in a steep valley. As soon as our feet touched the snowy ground, a door
barely big enough to admit a man slid open in the side of what looked at first like a natural stone
outcrop. Inside, it turned out to be a small, bare metal elevator big enough to hold four or five
people who didn’t mind being friendly. Kirvo held tightly onto me as Jeyle pressed commands
into the console. She pulled back her hood and tugged off her woollen hat and snow encrusted
face protector, revealing a long braid of grey hair.

“Home at last,” she said, grinning. “Kir!”
Her shout came because I’d collapsed, everything whiting out. Kir caught me in time and

lowered me to the floor, his arms still around me.

“Sorry,” I murmured.
“Shhh, it’s okay. A lot’s happened fast. It was the same for me. I got you.”
I buried my face in his damp, cold coat front and tried not to puke. Reaction, I told myself.

Shock. Even the abrupt change in temperature. But also fear. Was I going to another prison?

No prison. I swear.
I didn’t lift my face to look at him. I have no idea who you are.
I’m a friend. We’re all friends. Trust me, you’ll be fine.
I struggled to get myself together, insisting on being allowed to stand and succeeding as the

elevator ended its long slow ride. We’d travelled deep underground again, and I couldn’t hold
back a shiver of loathing at the thought. Would I never see the sun again?

Kirvo kept a firm grip on me. He’d barely had his hands off me since I’d met him, which

was odd to say the least, though not the oddest thing about this situation. The elevator doors
hissed open smoothly, and Jeyle stepped out.

“Hermi,” she said quietly, and then she flung herself into the outstretched arms of the man

waiting for us.

We’d arrived in a high-ceilinged, rock-hewn chamber at least as large as my old home. I

could see at least half a dozen other people, all dressed in normal warm clothes, their modern
style jarring slightly with the old-fashioned wall hangings and rugs. Wood and leather armchairs
and well-stuffed bookcases looked as normal as one could wish, and the plentiful lighting on the
walls—no harsh overhead lamps as in the prison—made it all appear warm and inviting.

It felt like a really big living room in the world’s largest house. To the left stood a large,

circular wooden table—clearly an eating area. To the rear of it, a kitchen area opened out, and
from that rose the rich, yeasty smell of baking bread. I could have said it was homey, except my
home had never felt this friendly or casual. It was like coming back to my real home. It felt very
strange.

Jeyle stepped away from the man she’d been hugging, though she still held his hand. “Jodi,

welcome to the refuge. This is Hermi.”

The man—Jeyle's age, short, rotund, and smiling benignly at me—bowed. Like her, he wore

his hair long and in a braid. “I greet you, Jodi. Welcome.” Then he grinned at Kirvo. “All went
well. I’m glad.”

“Yep. Slick and fast. Jodi did good. Well.”
“Er, thanks.” Strange how everyone knew my name.
“I won’t overwhelm you with introductions,” Jeyle said, “but you probably want something

hot to eat and drink. Kir, take his coat and things. Come, dear. You’ve had a terrible time of it,
but it’s over.”

I resisted as Kirvo tried to help me with my coat. “Hang on. Who are you? How many

paranormals are there in here?”

Hermi stepped forward. “We’re all gifted, Jodi. Like you, we’re all escapees from the prison

system. This is our home, and from here, we try to do what we can to help our tormented brothers
and sisters. I’m an empath, one of two here. There are other telekinetics like Jeyle, quite a
number of telepaths, and you’ll be our fifth pyrokinetic.” He held up his hands—tattooed like
mine, though with the empath symbol, not a PK’s. “I know you’re afraid, and this is very
bewildering. Will you let me help you?”

“How?” What could an empath do?
He came forward and put his hand on my arm. I flinched. “Easy, easy. No one is going to

hurt you. There’s no way my gift can harm you at all.”

As he spoke, a curious, undeniable sense of warmth and peace filled me, leaching away my

anxieties and fear, even my weariness—the way a good glass of temlido taken in good company
by a fireplace might do. His face twisted as if he felt worse as I started to feel better, but then his
expression cleared. The whole thing took mere seconds.

Jeyle came to his side, and he leaned on her. “Thank you, love,” he murmured. “Jodi?”
Kirvo came to stand beside me. “What did you do?” I asked Hermi, frowning.

I felt...good. Normal. How...? I stared at him in confusion. Empaths didn’t have this kind of

power—did they?

“How did you do that?”
“The government of Pindone hasn’t been entirely honest with you,” Jeyle said. “Empaths

have very special abilities, but enough of that for now. Kir?”

He touched my shoulder. “Jodi? You don’t need the coat. I’ll show you where I put it, if you

need it.”

His expression grave and respectful, he helped my fumbling fingers unzip and unbuckle, and

then took the coat, gloves, and other outdoor gear away, making sure I could see where he hung it
on a hook in a little alcove. He returned bearing three pairs of brightly coloured felt slippers,
handing a pair to Jeyle and one to me.

“We wear these inside—more comfortable than boots.”
Hermi brought me a stool to sit on, and again Kirvo helped me, changing my boots for the

slippers. Though I felt like a child, this was the kindest and most considerate anyone had been to
me in months. I recalled what Hermi had said about Kirvo.

“You know what it’s like,” I whispered to his bent head.
“Yeah. More than you think. There—they fit?”
They did, and were warm and soft and the prettiest things I’d seen since I’d been imprisoned.

Someone had embroidered them with birds and tiny flowers, for the sake of adding beauty. Tears
threatened again, but Hermi laid his hand on my shoulder and the emotion eased, whether the
result of his powers or the touch, I didn’t know.

“Come and sit with us, Jodi. I’m sure food with some actual taste won’t go amiss.”
They took me over to the big table. The other residents kept away, sitting casually in the

armchairs scattered about, as if the arrival of a stranger was of no interest to them.

They know what it’s like too, Kirvo told me in my head. “Sit down, Jodi. I’ll get you

something to eat.”

The ‘something’ turned out to be a thick and delicious bean stew—the flavour almost

unbearably rich after months of stodge—and crusty bread, accompanied by well-sweetened
khevai. In my mind, I thanked Kirvo for the consideration of small portions. He caught the
thought and smiled. He really did know what it felt like.

I ate slowly, looking around, trying to take it all in without annoying anyone. Jeyle and

Hermi spoke with Kirvo, apparently ignoring me, but not really doing so. If I looked as if I
needed something, one of them would turn to me with a smile, or glance my way and make it
clear I only had to ask. They gave me space and privacy, and since I’d had neither in far too long,
I was pathetically grateful for the kindness.

I still felt weak—too much exertion and too many shocks to the system—and I hoped they

weren’t going to expect to interrogate me soon. I couldn’t imagine what I could tell them, but I

didn’t think they’d rescued me for purely altruistic reasons.

Wrong.
I looked up and glared at Kirvo. Stop reading my mind.
Stop thinking about me when you’re five midecs away. You’re wrong. We don’t want

nothing. Anything, he amended, shooting a quick glance at Jeyle. He had a rather common accent,
as if he had come from the same background as Ganwe, but had more advantages.

No, Jodi, I ain’t had no advantages.
Now he was glaring.
You’re going to have to stop that. I can’t help what I think. I meant nothing by it. Everyone’s

new. I’m just working it all out.

Sorry. Um...sore point, that’s all. We saved you because we could. It’s really rare these days

we find out where any of our major talents are being held, and even rarer that we can get in and
get them out. You’re the first in five years.

How did you find me then?
He reached over and patted my hand. It’s a long story, and you’ve had a hard day. How long

before the naksen runs out?

I’d completely forgotten about the drug. Um...two days, maximum. Not absolutely sure.
He nodded. Cos they keep dicking around with it, yeah, I know. You can either wait for it to

run out natural, like, or we can extract what’s left so you can get it over and done with. Either
way, it’s gonna suck, but we can do some stuff to help.

No, do it straight away. Er, well, after I’ve had a chance to eat.
While you’re asleep is the best thing because you don’t get the cramps so bad. “You want

some more of the stew?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you. It was good.”
He grinned. “That’s Mareine. He’s a great cook.” He pointed at a red-haired man of about

forty, working over in the kitchen. The guy waved back. “He’s a TK. If you’re gonna go through
withdrawal soon, I’ll save the introductions until you’re back to normal. But I need to let Dedeke
look you over, make sure you’re okay. She’s our doctor.”

“Now we’ll have two,” Jeyle said, smiling at me. “Jodi, this is your home now for as long as

you want. We want you to feel safe and comfortable here, so if there’s anything you need or
want, speak up. We may not be able to do everything you ask, but we’ll try. There’s not one of us
who hasn’t suffered as you have, for the same reason. All we want is the freedom to live in peace,
and without concealing our natures. Any part of our natures,” she added with a knowing smile. “I
wasn’t expecting to have so much of that revealed so quickly though.”

I flushed. “Sorry about that. I was angry about a bunch of Marranite busybodies trying to

pretend they could help.”

“They did, only they didn’t know how they would. Anyway, a number of us are bisexual or

homosexual. No one here has a problem. If they did, I’d have to hang them up by their toes until
they stopped.”

I laughed at her innocent expression and Hermi’s scolding nudge. “You really aren’t

Marranites.”

“No, but I’m happy to use them if it suits me. Kir, take him to see Dede and then let the poor

man rest, change clothes, and so on. Take a bath too.”

“A bath? Here?”
“We got...we’ve got,” he amended at Jeyle’s look, “everything. All the facilities in the world.

‘Cept windows and we don’t need them. We’ve got a daylight lounge so’s we don’t get sick.”

“We get out in the fresh air more than enough,” Jeyle added. “You’re not trapped, I promise

you.”

Maybe not in theory, but in reality, I had no chance of walking out of here. But right now, I

didn’t particularly want to. I wanted my old life back, but it didn’t exist any more. I was open for
any substitute that didn’t involve rape and abuse.

“Do you want to see Dede first, or your room?” Kirvo asked when he’d cleared my plate

away.

I wanted to say ‘room’ but a proper medical check up was warranted. “Dede, please.”
“She’s nice. Not like them prison doctors. Those prison doctors.”
From the living area, we walked down a short hall. He helped me down a little set of steps

with the same careful solicitousness he’d shown all the way along.

“You know me, don’t you,” I said, realising there had to be a reason for his attentiveness.

“I’ve met you before.”

He smiled, but a little warily. “Yeah. Had to block the memory though, for your own good.

I’ll explain, but not now.”

“But when—”
He put his finger to his lips. “Later. Come on. You’ll like Dede.”
We passed a room stuffed with electronics. Two people worked at viewcoms, intent on their

tasks.

“The listening room,” Kirvo explained, waving a hand at the doorway.
We didn’t go in. Two rooms further on was the doctor’s office and what appeared to be a

little clinic. A woman of Jeyle’s age—short, plump, and smiling—rose to welcome me.

“Jodi, I greet you. I’m Dedeke. Call me Dede.”
She also wore a braid. Kirvo didn’t. I wondered why.
“Arwe Dede,” I acknowledged formally.
She laughed. “Oh my, it’s been years since anyone called me ‘Arwe’. I apologise for not

using your title. We don’t go in for that much here.”

I flushed. I’d been horribly rude. “No, I—”

It’s okay, Jodi. She ain’t offended.
She gave him a look. “I can explain myself perfectly well, young man. Now, Jodi, I’d like to

examine you. Do you want Kir to stay or go? I know you’ve had some appalling experiences.
Sorry, I should have explained, I’m a telepath too,” she said as I glared at Kirvo for giving away
my secrets. “The medics in prisons here are notoriously vicious. They’re just as bad in the
women’s prisons, I assure you.”

I nodded, embarrassed for knowing something so intimate about her, and that she knew

about me too.

“Shall I ask Kir to leave?” she asked.
“No...but does he have to watch?”
“No, of course not. Jodi, we’ll go behind there.”
Behind her desk and bookcases, there was a cubicle which looked much like those in any

small hospital—same basic bed, same equipment. How did they get this kind of thing up here?

She drew the curtain, giving an illusion of privacy from Kirvo, who’d taken a seat by her

desk. The clinic was well equipped, with a further three beds, and a door at the end of the room
with warning signs about scanning equipment being in use. I found it strange to see bare rock
instead of painted walls, though. It, like everywhere else I’d seen, was brightly decorated with
woven hangings and paintings, some directly onto the rock itself, some abstract, some
naturalistic, all showing a high degree of skill. I’d heard that the major level paranormals had a
tendency towards artistic talent. It seemed the rumour was true. But how long had people been
here?

Dede didn’t respond to my unspoken thoughts. I didn’t know if that was better than Kirvo’s

honesty or not. Having had no experience of telepaths before, this disoriented me more than our
sudden mad flight across the country through the powers of telekinesis.

“This is all so strange,” I blurted out.
“Yes. I know it is,” she said, nodding sympathetically, “and this is going to be a difficult

time for you, getting used to so many new things, and the naksen withdrawal on top of it. The
difference between here and prison is that we want to help you. We’ve all needed it in the past,
Jodi. There’s no need for shame at feeling weak.”

She had very kind eyes. I felt I could trust her—but what if this was all a massive mind trick?

What if she was manipulating my emotions, my thoughts...?

My chest tightened, and suddenly I needed to be out of here, in the open air, not trapped.

“Sorry...I...I need to—”

I pushed past her and dashed for the door. Kirvo jumped to his feet, but I ignored him and his

shout. I ran back along the halls until I reached the big chamber. People, eating their lunch, all
turned and stared in surprise at my bursting into the room in a panic.

I needed...I had to get out...I didn’t know how to —

“Jodi, calm down. You want to get out? I can take you.”
Startled, I threw off Kirvo’s hand and hung onto the doorpost, breath heaving with the slight

exertion and the fright.

“I need to get out. I...I....” I collapsed to my knees, heart pounding, sweat breaking out.

“Help me...please...let me out of here.” I couldn’t breathe.

He wrapped his arms around me. “Shhh, shhh. Just a panic attack. Shhh.”
I struggled a little, but he kept hold, murmuring and shushing. I wanted to puke.
Then Hermi was there, his hands on my shoulders. The terrors began to fade immediately,

and I found it easier to breathe. I slumped back into Kirvo’s embrace, exhausted.

“Easy, Jodi,” Hermi whispered, massaging my shoulders. “Just a little panic attack. Perfectly

normal.”

Gradually the sick aftereffect of adrenaline faded, though I still felt a little nauseated. I hung

my head, bitterly ashamed of myself.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. I hadn’t even done that in prison.
“Good grief, what for? For being frightened and anxious after all that’s happened? Even just

today?”

“What if it’s all a trick? What if this isn’t real? What if Kirvo and you and Dede are making

me think I’m safe and I’m not?”

“I can’t make you feel anything I don’t feel myself, or you don’t feel. So unless I believe a

lie, I can’t convince you of it, Jodi. All I’ve done to you is absorb some of the darker, more
disturbing emotions—so they pass from you to me.” He touched his chest. “I know exactly how
terrified you are. Look at me, dear boy.” I stared up into his grey eyes. “I’m not lying to you.
Neither are they. You fear we work for Noret. Our fear is that by helping someone like you, we
expose ourselves to discovery by his people. We’ve all taken a risk today.”

I wanted to believe him...it made sense...but what if they were all lying....
“I...I just panicked.”
“S’all right, Jodi,” Kirvo said, his hand rubbing mine, his warm, solid body behind me

soothing, reassuring. “I’m not lying to you. No one is. If you want to go up top, I can show you
how. If you want to go back to Vizinken, take your chances, we’ll do what we can. Thing is, we
can’t protect you down there like we can here.”

His hands were hard and calloused against my skin. They felt honest to me. “I just...let me

up. I’ll stop being stupid.”

He and Hermi helped me stand. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t look at either of them.
“Jodi, would you like to go up top?” Kirvo offered. “I’ll show you how the elevator works.”
“No, it’s okay. I was being an idiot.”
“No, you ain’t.”
“‘Not’, Kir,” Jeyle called quietly. “‘You’re not’.”

“Yeah, Mam, I know. Nag,” he muttered. “You want to see Dede, or lie down for a bit?”
How could I face a professional colleague after that disgusting display? But not to face her

would be even more shaming. “I’ll go back. You don’t need to come.”

He took my hand again. “You sure? I don’t mind. I can help maybe. If it gets a bit much and

stuff.”

His eyes held nothing but concern. Who was this man?
“Whatever you want. You don’t have to coddle me.”
“Actually, he does,” Hermi said, sounding amused. “It’s his nature, so it’d be kind if you let

him indulge it, Jodi. He’s harmless.”

“I’m not—”
“Kir.”
I lifted my head and looked at the two of them—Kirvo glaring, Hermi merely patient, as if

this was an old argument. Something was going on that had nothing to do with me, but what, I
couldn’t guess. I shook myself free of their comforting hands and began to walk towards Dede’s
rooms again, my legs still shaking a little. After a moment or two, I heard soft footsteps behind
me. I didn’t turn and look. I could figure it out well enough.

Back in her clinic, Dede brushed away my apologies. “If you weren’t having panic attacks,

Jodi, I’d think you were abnormal. If you need air, if you need to leave, you just get up and go,
okay? Kir will stay or go as you ask. If he goes, and you want him back, you only have to wish it.
Take a seat behind the curtain. I can do some basic checks before you get undressed.”

She was as accommodating as I could want any doctor to be, and I refused to play into the

stereotype of being a bad patient. When she came back around the curtain, I’d stripped to the
waist. She made no comment, just finding me a light linen top to slip over myself when she
finished listening to my lungs and heart. She was thorough, though I noticed she was a little out
of date in her methods.

“When did you train?” I asked as she finished up, taking a blood sample and asking me to

piss in a pot for her.

“Before the terrors, obviously. I try to keep up with journals and so on, but it’s difficult.

Fortunately, we’ve yet to have a really serious medical emergency, but as we get older, I worry.
That’s why I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I haven’t worked in practice since my post-graduate course. Other than with test subjects, of

course. I always intended to, but I was recruited for research....” And look at the research I’d been
doing. “I don’t know very much about practical clinical work.”

“Then we’ll learn together, won’t we? I’m looking forward to having your brain to pick, let

me tell you. Not like that,” she added hastily.

“I know what you meant.”
I pulled my shirt and jacket back on. It was warm in here. They must have had access to

geothermal energy, or perhaps they relied entirely on the wind. Running something like this had
to have taken years and years to set up.

“So, am I clear?”
“There’s nothing seriously wrong on the surface, though if you turn out to be anaemic I

won’t be the least surprised. A prison diet doesn’t lead to a long life, as you can imagine. You’re
very underweight, and appear generally run down, but you know that. They’ll have done standard
disease screening in the prison, but I’ll run a full scan just to make sure. It’s usually about the
only thing the prisons get right, though. Psychologically, you’re surely also aware you’ll very
likely suffer from PTSD.”

Her kind, matter of fact tone took the sting out of her words. “Which I am also aware needs

specialist counselling. How do you deal with it?”

“We have no psychs up here, nor do I use psychoactive drugs. However, Hermi and two of

our older telepaths have a good deal of experience helping our kind deal with this. Normal psychs
are bugger all use, really.” I raised an eyebrow at the vulgarity. “What you need is lots and lots of
decent food, unrestricted movement, and rest and freedom from stress. We can let you have all of
that, and if you need more, then we can discuss it.”

“The naksen? Will you take the implant out?”
“When you’re done with withdrawal, yes. Kir says you want to start that now?”
“Yes. As soon as possible. Do you use jozidem?”
“No. I don’t believe in pumping more drugs into an already compromised system, and

jozidem’s side effects are pretty nasty. There’s a long term carcinogenic effect.”

She made a note on her files, as if she had only stated uncontroversial fact, which she most

certainly had not.

“It’s completely safe!”
She looked at me, eyebrow raised. “Yes, I’m sure you were told that. It’s not. Neither is

naksen. At least it won’t cause cancer, but it’s scarcely a drug that should be in general use.”

“I never agreed with it, you know. I thought it was the lesser of two evils.”
“A lot of people believe that,” she said, but didn’t elaborate. “We use good old-fashioned

TLC to support those of us coming off that hideous stuff. Kir’s offered to be your nurse, and he’s
very good at that kind of thing, but if it bothers you to have a man care for you, then I can help.
We can use telepathy to help you sleep and dull some of the pain. A mild anti-emetic will help
the vomiting.”

I finished doing up my jacket. “How many of you are there here?”
“Fifty-three, all paranormals. You’re the baby of the group,” she said with a smile. “There

are two dens, with twenty-seven in this one. You’ll get to meet everyone eventually. There’s
plenty of room. You needn’t feel trapped or cramped.”

“How can you have hidden yourself for all this time? And why aren’t you still in prison?”

“Now that’s a long tale, Jodi, and Kir’s looking forward to telling you, aren’t you, dear?”
Kirvo’s distinctive voice sounded in my head. Yeah. Promised once he was clean, he could

hear the full story.

“Is it such a mystery?” I asked as she stood up.
“No, just very long and, in your present condition, probably more than you can handle. Now,

you look pretty tired, and though it’s early, I’d say you should try and sleep. Once you’re under,
I’ll extract the remaining naksen and put you on a nutrient drip. You’re going to be damn sick
when you wake up, but you’ll have us with you every step of the way. In ten days, you’ll be
completely and permanently free of it.”

“And that’s worth any amount of suffering. Thank you, Dede.”
She gave me a slight, formal bow. “An honour, Arwe Jodimai. Unless I’m asleep, I’ll hear

you ‘call’ wherever I am. Don’t try and be tough about this. You won’t impress me.”

“I won’t.”
Kirvo smiled at me as I came out from around the curtain. “You all right?”
“Why don’t you just read my mind?”
“You don’t need to be a prick, Jodi. I can’t help it. I’m trying here, okay?”
I sighed. “Yes, I know. I’m just...is there any way I can stop people seeing my thoughts? It’s

a bit like being back in the cell, with everything I do being on display.”

He came over and touched my arm. “There’s stuff we can do, but I need you to be off the

naksen first, then we have to talk about it, cos it ain’t...isn’t straightforward. Until then, can you
cut me some slack? It’s bad enough them normals hate me for what I can do.”

“Those normals.”
He pulled a face at me. “Not another one.”
I grinned at his disgust. Such a big kid. “You want to show me where I can sleep?”
He took me down more halls and steps, past private workrooms and unused living quarters.

This place was astonishing. The ventilation system alone was a minor miracle. “How long did it
take to build this?”

“Hundreds of years. It’s real old. The electrical stuff is new, most of the rest ain’t. Us

paranormals been living here on and off for a couple of thousand years. It’s big enough to hold
‘bout two hundred people.”

I ignored the imperfect Pindoni as I tried to comprehend his words. “How? Surely the

government knows about this.”

“Nope. Sure, every so often they find out, but people like me been making sure they don’t

remember all this time.” He tapped his head and grinned. “This is our place, Jodi. There’s places
like this all over the planet, all over Pindone. This is the biggest, but it ain’t the only one.”

“‘Isn’t’,” I corrected absently. “And you’ve been here how long?”
“‘Bout nine years. We worked hard to get it working this good. One day, everyone like us

will be able to live here, if they want.”

“You plan to free all the paranormals from prison? Get them off naksen?”
“Eventually, yeah. Gonna take a while.”
No kidding. Stunned by what I’d heard, I followed him in silence as we turned and went

down yet again, and found ourselves in a wide hall with doors coming off both sides.

“Here’s the sleeping quarters. Washrooms and showers through there—sorry, we gotta share,

but there’s plenty—and there’s two bathrooms at the far end. Everyone cleans up after
themselves, ‘course. I picked you out a room, but if you don’t like it, we can change it.”

He opened a door close to the end, near the bathroom. The room, like everything else, had

been carved from stone, with wooden posts and lintels supporting the door, a low ceiling, spare,
but not bare. A beautiful tapestry hung above an graceful, simple wooden bed, and some simple
ornamenting touches like the carved lamp base, some scroll work on the furniture, gave an
elegant feel to it all.

The bed itself was covered with several cheerily coloured woollen blankets, and stood ready

for occupancy. There was a pale wooden chair, a little desk with a reading light, and a bookcase
with books, though I couldn’t see what they were. One wall held built in cupboards, with an area
that served as a dresser with a mirror hanging over it, a small sink to one side, and drawers
underneath. I had so much space to store nonexistent possessions.

“It’s fine,” I murmured. The lack of windows was a bit disturbing, but the room was well

ventilated, and far more spacious and unthreatening than the cell—and I didn’t have to share with
anyone. “Where are you?”

“Uh, next door.” He shuffled his foot rather bashfully. “Thought you might like to have

someone close you could ask about stuff. If you don’t like it, I can move you—”

“No. I like it. I...everyone’s being so friendly and kind. I keep waiting for the axe to fall.”
“I keep telling you. There ain’t no axe.” He looked up, tilting his chin defiantly. “It’s what

we do. This is our home, and you’re family now.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring, if you knew my family.”
“Yeah, I can guess. Mine weren’t—” He grimaced. “Don’t want to talk about it, if you don’t

mind.”

“No, of course not.” I went and sat on the bed. The mattress felt soft and yielding. I

wondered how old all of it was, and how on earth they’d got all this stuff up into this desolate
region. “Dede said I should sleep.”

“Think you should, too.” He went over to the drawers, pulled out the top one and withdrew a

toiletry bag. “Basic stuff in there, if you need anything else, just yell. Clothes, towels, everything,
all in here. We got plenty of water and power, you can bathe or shower, whatever you like. Lap
of luxury after prison, right?”

“It certainly is. How long did you know I was coming?”

He smiled rather proudly. “Months. Been planning it for ages.”
“Since I was imprisoned.”
“Um, kinda.”
“Kirvo, I need to know how you fit into all this.”
He shook his head. “Not now. You’re gonna be sick as shit for a week or more and you

won’t remember much. You concentrate on getting that crap out of your body and then we can
talk all you want. You gonna have a shower or something? You won’t feel like it tomorrow.”

I wasn’t happy at being put off, but he simply refused to be persuaded. I gave up. He had a

point about it being the wrong time, I supposed.

“Shower.”
“Okay. I’ll leave you in peace—the shower doors lock, so don’t be frightened. No one’ll

come in.”

That hadn’t even occurred to me, but something made it important to him. “The place is full

of telekinetics. A shower lock won’t stop them.”

He glowered at me. “It’s the principle, ain’t it. I was trying to be nice, Jodi. Shit.” He ran his

hands through his dark hair, apparently genuinely distressed.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I was just...thank you. I appreciate the concern.”
“Yeah...look, you do your stuff, and I’ll come back, help you get to sleep. Need to make sure

you’re off nice and sound so you miss some of the withdrawal crap.”

“Thanks.”
He looked about to say something, then he shook his head and walked out. I’d been a bit of a

bitch to him, but I didn’t like people hiding things from me. I couldn’t sense any ill will from him
or any of the others. It was either a gigantic con or they really were who they said they were.

I grabbed the toiletries and headed to the door, then had to go back and collect things like

towels and bathrobes, to which I hadn’t had access for months. The bathrobe was made from
natural dyed material, very soft and warm, with a raised nap that I couldn’t help rubbing against
my face. Several changes of clothing hung in the closet, and enough socks and underwear to keep
anyone happy. Everything was good quality—though not new—and handmade, like the soap and
other items in the toiletry kit. They lived well here, but not extravagantly.

As I opened the door to one of the shower rooms, Dede ‘spoke’. Jodi, don’t lock the door. I

know Kir’s got a thing about it, but you might pass out. And mind how hot you run the water. You
don’t want to shock your system.

Got it. Why does he have a thing about it?
That’s his story to tell. I’m going to be monitoring you while you’re in there, just for safety.
Of course. I couldn’t really get used to it, but it made sense.
The shower room, clean and neat and quite unlike the one in the prison, had underfloor

heating—incredibly luxurious after the last few months. It was also perfectly private, which I

appreciated. I undressed and then went to the sink to clean my teeth…and got a shock.

I hadn’t seen my own reflection since I’d entered prison, mirrors not being considered

essential in any way. Now I could look my fill, and be horrified at the change in my appearance. I
looked like a faded version of the Febkeinze beggars I used to see on the streets, all pale and thin
and big eyed, my blonde hair nothing more than stubble. After each of our twice-weekly showers
in prison, our heads and faces had been shaved, the same razor used for both jobs and with little
concern for comfort either. Every time I’d ended up with grazes and cuts.

A shaver had been provided here too—electric, of course. I rubbed my face and found it

prickly. I wanted to be clean, properly clean, and as civilised as I could appear. So I shaved,
cleaned my teeth with care, and then took a long, extravagant shower, relishing warm water on
my skin after so many hasty cold ablutions. I relished being able to touch my own skin without
anyone watching me, or wanting me, or knowing that as soon as I finished, I’d have a ‘customer’
to hastily service before the guards threw us out for the next lot of prisoners. I found myself
soaping the tattoos on my hands a bit too obsessively and decided it was time to get out. I had
enough neuroses. I didn’t want a compulsive behaviour disorder on top of it.

The thoughtfully provided moisturiser, thick and sweet smelling, would feel as good on my

cock as my face. For the first time in months, I almost had the urge to masturbate, but I didn’t
really feel aroused, and besides, knowing Dede could listen in put me off a bit. But I could, if I
wanted to. Knowing that was almost a miracle. My being here definitely was.

Though I didn’t normally sleep in the things, I put on a pair of pyjamas simply because I

would be a patient for the next week or so. Then I tried this mental voice trick.

Kirvo?
Hey. You all done?
I’m clean and sweet and ready for a nice long nap. Do you need to come in?
No, but I’d like to. He sounded rather shy—or wary.
Then come in.
I climbed into bed and sighed at the luxurious softness of it all. It reminded me of the bed in

my grandmother’s house. I hadn’t thought of it—or her—in years. Which was a shame because I
remembered her with a lot more fondness than I did my immediate family.

A tap on the door. “Come in, Kirvo.”
He’d changed into a thick sweater and old, comfortable pants, but he looked tense as if he

expected me to insult him. “You, um, can call me Kir, if you like. We ain’t big on formal names
around here.”

“Okay. How does it work?”
He sat rather nervously on the edge of the bed. “I kinda...press on the thing that makes you

sleep. Don’t know what it’s called. I ain’t real smart.”

“You seem pretty smart to me, but maybe you didn’t get the chance for an education. When

did they imprison you? How old were you?”

He traced a random pattern on his knee, not looking at me when he answered. “Seven. Not

officially prison. ‘Juvenile detention’,” he added, sneering. “Don’t know why, cos I was shot full
of naksen. Weren’t no different from the other kids, ‘cept they knew I was a para.”

“They made it hard on you?”
“Everyone made it hard on me. Got taken to the big prison when I was seventeen cos they

said I was too much to handle. I wasn’t supposed to go until I was eighteen.”

Slight and young looking even now, though he’d said he was older than me. As ‘fresh meat’

he must have been piled on. “You had it rough. Sorry about what I was thinking before, about
advantages. I didn’t know.”

“I know, I just...thought it was kinda ironic.” He looked at me from under his lashes. “I was

there when you...uh...in the bar. I was talking to you when the fire started coming out of your
hands. I saw them take you away. Couldn’t do nothing, couldn’t risk it. I shoulda helped but...I
was afraid of them finding out about here.”

“You were there? I don’t remember.”
He tapped his head. “I, uh...you know. I had to, Jodi. But I swore I was gonna get you out

and I did. Sorry it took so long.”

I could only stare at him in amazement. “How long were we talking?”
“A bit. You were upset about the thing at work.”
It seemed a lifetime ago, like my research. “Do you know anything about why my talent

suddenly appeared?”

“I don’t know why you didn’t know, if that’s what you mean. I was as surprised as you were.

I felt real bad about it. Wouldn’t give Jeyle no peace until she helped me find you, get you out.”

I reached out and patted his leg. “Then thank you. No, you couldn’t risk everyone here. I

understand.”

He nodded, but he still looked rather upset. Took it to heart, obviously.
“When you’re up on your feet again, we’ll introduce you, show you around. Easier to do it

slow. We’re not hiding shit from you, we just...don’t want you to freak out. It’s happened before.
Ain’t pretty.”

“I understand. One thing—was it chance, meeting you in the bar?”
“I was there on business.”
He didn’t look at me as he spoke. I wasn’t entirely sure he’d told me the truth, but then if he

could manipulate memories....

“People find it hard to trust you, don’t they? Because of the powers?”
“Yeah. Me and empaths. People hate us. Like you do.” He got up, his expression now closed

in. “You ready?”

“Kir, I don’t hate you.”

“No? With all them thoughts in your head about me manipulating you and tricking you and

how you can’t believe a word I say?”

I gaped at him. “I’m trying to understand. And I do think you’re lying to me, although I

don’t know why.”

He bit his lip. “Okay. Here’s what I’m gonna tell you now. The rest, you have to wait for. I

met you in the bar. It wasn’t by chance. Your talent really surprised me, and I ran to protect
everyone here. I did everything I could to get you out.”

“Not by chance?”
“No more, Jodi. I ain’t having this conversation when you’re about to be off your fucking

head for a week. You can trust me. I’d never ever hurt you.” As he spoke, his fierce eyes bored
into mine.

“I believe you,” I said.
“Good. Now lie back. I can hang around for a bit if you want to drop off natural, or I can

knock you straight out, whichever.”

I winced. “Do you mind waiting?”
“Nope. Mind if I sit here? I can sit on the chair. Don’t need to be near you.”
“No. Please. Sit here. It’s a big bed.”
His face split into a smile, which suited him much better than sullenness. “They are, ain’t

they? The beds are great here.”

“It all is. I really am grateful. I never expected to leave that prison alive.”
He nodded. “I know how it feels. I remember what it was like, thinking there was nothing

but prison in the world. People forget...what it was like before.”

“You mentioned your family—”
“Don’t.” His face twisted. “You’re supposed to be going to sleep.”
“Then you get comfortable. You’re perched there like you expect me to knock you off. Sit up

here, beside me.” I patted the other pillow. “I’m so tired, don’t think it’ll take long.”

“Lucky you. I can’t sleep in strange places real easy.” He walked around the other side of the

bed and hopped up, stretching his long legs out alongside me. “Sure this ain’t bothering you?”

“That telepathy of yours good for anything other than being nosy?”
“You sure do have a mouth on you.” But he grinned. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Close

your eyes. I’ll be here when you wake up. Not gonna be much fun.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”
I closed my eyes and snuggled down. He kept his hand on me, which was sort of nice. I

didn’t know why but his presence, his touch, reassured me in a way I’d never experienced with
another man, except for Timo, whom I would have once trusted with my very life. The memory
of Timo caused me a sudden pang of loss and yearning. How could he have betrayed me like that,
to have written me off, when we had once shared all our secrets?

Maybe he was scared. He’s got a family to protect same as me.
Kir, stay out of my head.
Sorry. He squeezed my shoulder and got a little closer so his warm bulk lay right against my

blanket-wrapped body. But this’ll be easier on both of us if I....

Chapter Eight

I woke to pain in my back and head, and intense, exhausting shivering. For too many

seconds I was sure I was back in prison. Someone touched my face.

“No, Ganwe, leave me—”
“Not Ganwe. You’re not in prison.” It’s me, Jodi. Kir.
I blinked against the soft light—something blocked it. Someone’s head. “I f-feel l-like shit.”
I moved my arm and something dragged against it before Kir caught my wrist. “Careful.

That’s the drip. You warm enough?”

“No. F-freezing.”
“Can fix that.” He touched my face, stroking my forehead gently. I pushed up against the

touch, wanting more. It helped. I felt a little less crappy than I’d expected, and I wasn’t vomiting.
I couldn’t stop shivering, but I was warmer than I would have been back in the cell, or in the
storeroom. It felt more like a not too severe dose of flu than anything else, though if I’d had to get
up and do anything physical like walk, I’d have been out of luck.

The door open and closed, then I heard the soft thud of footfalls across the rug.
“And how’s our boy doing? Kir, take these. Around his back will be the most comfortable.”
Dede’s head replaced Kir’s. She bent low and touched my face as, behind me, Kir put

something wonderfully warm against my kidneys.

“How are you doing, Jodi? Any symptoms I should be worried about?”
“N-no. Just c-cold.” But not so much now. “Heat f-feels good.”
“Thought it would. Kir will keep the pads coming while you’re awake, so long as you’re not

overheating. Headache? Worse than usual?”

“Yes, no. D-doing b-better. Time?”
“Two. In the afternoon. You’ve been asleep for twenty-four hours, which you clearly

needed.” She sounded amused by that fact. “Kir, I can spell you for a bit. You need to sleep.”

I tensed up in alarm at the thought of him leaving, though it was quite irrational of me to

want to keep him in constant attendance.

“I’m fine.” Kir said, his tone stubborn. “Slept in the chair some. I ain’t going nowhere.”
“You don’t need to be here all the time. Jodi’s not dying or anything, are you?”
“No. K-Kir, you c-could sleep on b-bed.” I grunted as cramps hit me. Kir shifted, then he

lifted the blankets and shoved another of the wonderful heating pads between my grabbing hands
and my aching gut. “Th-thanks.”

You want me to sleep in the same bed with you, Jodi?
She’s right. You need to rest. I’m not going anywhere. I...like you being here. It’s reassuring.

I had no idea why but it was, and for him too, I felt.

Dede tsked. “Very well. Jodi, let me check you over, and then you should go back to sleep.”
I endured her checking my pupils and listening to my heart, checking my blood pressure and

taking my ear temperature. When she finished, I realised I had another problem.

“Dede, I need to pee.”
“Not on your own. Kir?”
“I can manage. I did in prison,” I said grumpily.
“You’re not in prison, and you’re certainly not passing out and fracturing your skull on my

watch, Arwe Jodimai. Kir, get his robe and slippers.”

This was ridiculous, but my two attendants wouldn’t believe I could manage, and I felt too

exhausted for a fight. Kir took the drip bag in one hand and put his free arm around me.

Easier not to argue with her, seriously.
You could have stood up for me.
He grinned. Yeah, but I don’t want you falling over neither. Careful.
I felt like a geriatric, but I was conscious that I’d normally be a lot worse twenty-four hours

into withdrawal. The fluid support and the warmth made a huge difference, as well as the anti-
emetic. Kir was an excellent nurse, no doubt about it—deft and matter of fact, and letting me do
what I could manage, while helping me when I struggled.

Dede was still in my room when I staggered back in, and helped Kir get all the heating pads

and covers arranged again.

“I’ll be back later with fresh heating pads and another bag of fluid,” she said. “Kir, you make

sure you eat. I know you.”

“Run away, Dede. Jeyle’s got the mother thing covered.”
I ignored both of them, huddling under the covers and wishing I had three times the number

of heating pads because the cold in me was bone deep. I could easily overheat, so they were right
to be cautious, but I could not warm up enough to stop shivering.

“K-Kir? P-please. C-cold.”
He waved her out. “See you later, Dede. I need to sort this out.”
Someone dimmed the light down to the barest golden glow. I heard Kir walking around,

cloth rustling and fasteners clinking as he undid them. Then his weight on the bed, and the covers
raised, making me shiver harder, until he tucked in behind me, his arms carefully around me.
Better?

Yes. I could relax with Dede gone. I hated looking ill around another doctor—just an

irrational thing of mine. Kir felt so warm and firm behind me. If Ganwe had done this in prison,
I’d have been throwing up in terror. There’s something about you.

I’m just an ordinary guy who can read your mind, that’s all.
That’s not exactly ordinary.

Compared with the shit you can do? Nah. You warm enough?
Strangely, I was. The shivering had gone down to tolerable levels and if I didn’t move, the

cramping didn’t start up again. Soon be over.

~~~

Of course, it wasn’t, and my initial relief that it wasn’t as bad as previous bouts of

withdrawal, was more than moderated by the fact that it went on for far longer than any of them.
Kir stayed with me every second except when he had to relieve himself. He held me, he washed
me, dressed me, kept me warm, and listened to me bitch and whinge like an overtired child when
I was at the end of my tether, so sick of cramping and shivering and feeling like a reheated turd.
He kept me asleep a lot of the time, but Dede and I both warned him not to overdo it because of
the risk of blood clots. I had to get up and move around a bit, however difficult and painful.

After a week I began to despair of ever feeling normal again, and only knowing that it had to

end kept me remotely sane. Kir was patience personified. I wondered whether he was innately
good at dealing with whiny little shits or if it was remaining guilt over not being able to help me
when I’d been arrested. There hadn’t been a lot of time to talk, and my concentration was
wrecked. But I promised myself there’d be some enlightening conversations when this was all
over or I’d want to know why.

The dreary business went on for so long, I knew exactly what to expect when I opened my

eyes each ‘morning’ (or whenever Kir allowed me to wake up). So this time, it confused me
when I didn’t feel like shit. I lay as still as possible, thinking if I moved, the cramps and shivering
would start up again. But they didn’t. I wasn’t cold, my headache had gone, and my gut only felt
empty. Was it really over? Behind me, Kir was breathing slow and evenly. I didn’t want to wake
him up. He’d been so very kind and had done everything possible to help me through. And now I
was through it.

Dede?
Yes, Jodi? Ah—you feel better?
I really do. I’m going to detach the drip, but don’t disturb us. He’s asleep.
Yes, he would be, poor dear. Don’t get up without his help, will you? Or call me?
Don’t want to get up at all. I can enjoy being in bed now.
She chuckled. I know what you mean. I’ll be along later. Be careful with that IV port and

give me a yell if you bugger it up.

I stuck my tongue out, and she got the message, because she chuckled again. Litter from my

long residence strewed the side table, where I found gauze pads and tape. I pulled a pad out, and
then held it over the bead of blood from the IV catheter. As I waited for it to stop bleeding, I
cautiously checked myself over. I still felt weak, and rather tired, but my thoughts zipped along,
clear and sharp, like they hadn’t in months. I felt alive, really alive. And I was free to do...well,
that was the fascinating question. Free to do what?

A question for later. I held out my hand, revelling in the lack of tremor. My eyesight had

returned to normal, and all the annoying tics and jerks that had plagued me had gone. Naksen was
vile. If these people really wanted to try and get all other paranormals off it, they had my
complete support, no matter what their plan.

I carefully rolled over so I could see Kir’s sleeping face. He looked so innocent and young,

his thick eyelashes brushing his cheeks extravagantly. His best features—his eyes, his teeth—
were hidden like this, but he still wasn’t hard to look at. He had a very masculine face, hard
planes and lines, very different from mine which, much to my embarrassment, tended more to the
delicately feminine side. Yet for all his rough speech and unpolished ways, he wasn’t
aggressively male. He reminded me of Timo, and how gentle and kind he was with his boys.
Hard to imagine Kir in prison. It pained me to try. If I’d suffered what I had as a full grown man,
what he must have gone through as a child in such conditions was too horrible to think about.

I dozed a little, watching him like that. When I opened my eyes again, he was looking back.

He smiled.

“Hey.”
“It’s over.”
My voice sounded rough, weak, and naturally he instantly wanted to do something about

that.

“Want some—” he started to ask.
Don’t move. I grabbed the front of the pyjama top he wore.
Okay. He grinned at me. “You really are feeling better.”
Thanks to you. Thank you.
You’re welcome. He fumbled his hand out from under the blankets, and hesitantly touched

my cheek. “Need a shave.”

Uh huh. You don’t.
Don’t grow much of a beard. Dark Pindoni, you know what we’re like.
I do. I think you’re very handsome.
He flushed. I’m scrawny.
I moved in closer, so I could nearly touch his face with mine. No, you’re not. Kir...can I...?
“Yeah,” he breathed, warm and eager against my cheek.
He lay still as my lips brushed his, but as I flicked my tongue gently against his mouth, he

moved his arm and put it around me. I couldn’t bear to wait, or be careful. I pressed in against
him, and took his mouth in a demanding kiss, my hand twining in his short dark hair, so I could
get even closer. He tasted...oh, so lush and masculine, his body warm and hard and strong against
mine. I was starving and he was my feast. Greedily I ate him, drank him down, seeking out every
molecule of his scent and flavour. I wanted to be inside him, inside his skin, I wanted to touch
skin. He was greedy too, his hands searching, frustrated by the pyjamas, thrusting inside

whatever gaps he could find, hard, calloused hands on my flesh. I licked him, nibbled him,
wanted to consume him. Ached from needing this touch, from missing it for so long. His smell,
clean and rich and male, rose from his skin and I buried my nose behind his ear to inhale it.

I was hard, a miracle after so long without even the least twinge of interest in anything

sexual.

I want you.
What do you want? His hand found its way inside the waistband of my pants, and then seized

my cock, his skin so hot and dry against mine. I gasped against his neck, as I thrust into his hand.
That?

Don’t...for mercy’s sake...don’t stop....
My tongue demanded what his hand gave me, and the more I sucked and delved, the harder

he squeezed and stroked. It took so little time to bring me off, it was embarrassing, but the climax
left me shuddering, tremors of sensation shooting through my newly responsive body, even down
to my toes. My skin flushed hot as if I’d run twelve temidecs, and I could only lie in the
protective curl of his arms until I regained control over myself, while he kissed me gently, lazily,
on mouth and eyelids.

Feeling better?
I...thank you. I slipped my hand between us and reached between his legs, but he flinched.

You don’t want...?

Yeah, but you don’t have to.
I looked into his eyes. You know I want to. I need to.
He grinned, showing his small, perfect teeth. “Well if you need to....”
It had never been anything but disgusting when I’d had my hand on men’s cocks in prison.

But this, touching the warm perfection of Kir’s erection, felt right, and healing. I drove him mad,
petting it, welcoming it, revelling in its soft skin over the rigid flesh. He shivered and squirmed as
I played, stroking it with my finger tips, and then with a firmer grip. Later, I would look, but now
I just wanted the sensation of touch. He kissed me, hard, begging, eager and wanton, while my
hand tormented him, his eyes squeezed shut.

I wanted it to last because Kir was beautiful. His cock was beautiful. It was such a perfect

moment, I was afraid that when he came, I would never see another like it. But when he came,
and his eyes flew open, his breath leaving him in a deep sigh, and his body leaning against mine
so trustfully, it felt even more perfect. I wanted to see him come once for every blowjob I’d been
forced to give in prison, and then a hundred times more. The sight might just eventually replace
those memories completely, and I would be glad to have Kir’s ecstatic face in my mind instead.

We wiped our hands on the sheets since all the linen needed washing. I lifted the collar of

my shirt and sniffed. I smelled stale and ill, and I wanted a shower.

“You want to join me?”

He hesitated. “Maybe next time? You ain’t had long to enjoy them on your own.”
I kissed him on the forehead. “When you’re ready, I want to know what happened to you.

You know all my secrets.”

I swung out of bed, taking it slow. I felt a little dizzy but it cleared quickly. I was just fine.
“Can’t help that, I told you.”
“Kir, I’m not having a go at you.”
Kir smiled, but there was still hesitancy in his expression. “I know. Go get clean. I’ll sort out

the bed. I bet you’re starving.”

I was, actually. All my senses were awake, properly, and I was hungry to fill them. If he’d

given me the slightest hint he wanted it, I’d have thrown him to the bed and pleasured him again.
But he was more sensible than me about being cautious, so I just collected my things and went to
the shower room.

I won’t lock the door, I told him as I undressed. In case I faint.
I’ll keep an ear open. Not that I would want to rush in there and find you all naked or

nothing.

I grinned at the empty air, and hoped there would be chances to find each other in a state of

undress that didn’t need me to pass out.

My reflection told me I still looked frail, but inside, I hummed with energy. Oh, I had no

stamina, and I’d have to take it easy for a day or two, but I no longer felt old and ill and clumsy. I
looked at my fingertips, wondering when I would be able to rediscover the blasted talent that had
landed me in this mess. I needed to talk to Kir more about this whole business. There had to be a
reason I didn’t know about my powers for so long.

When I returned to the bedroom, I found he’d showered too, and stripped the bed. He smiled

at me as I took his hand.

“Breakfast?” I asked, giving him a kiss.
“More like lunch, but yeah. I’m hungry.”
Word had got out. Dede knew of course, and waited for us in the living area. Jeyle and

Hermi were sitting in the armchairs—actually she sat on his lap in one chair—and exclaimed at
seeing us together.

“Well, you really are feeling better, Jodi,” Jeyle said.
“I feel great, thanks to Kir and Dede.” Dede waved at me and I grinned. “Thank you.”
Kir slipped away from me. “I’ll get us some food. You can chat, okay?”
I hovered near the armchairs, not sure if I should sit, or go over to the table since we were

about to eat. I settled for perching on the arm of one of the long sofas. Dede came over for a
closer look at me.

“No dizziness? Sexual function has returned, obviously.”
“Dede!” Kir protested from the kitchen. I matched his tone with my glare.

“Do I have any privacy at all in this place?”
“Nope,” she said cheerfully. “Besides, I’m a doctor. I ask nosy questions.”
“Restrain yourself, Arwe Dedeke. It’s not nice.” She just shrugged, grinning at me.
Jeyle seemed more reserved in her delight at seeing me up and about than Dede. “I’m glad

you and Kir are getting along,” she said. “But can I, as his friend, just ask you to be a little careful
with him, Jodi?”

Dede shook her head in apparent disgust. “Oh, Jeyle, they woke up and had sex. It’s not an

exchange of vows.”

“Could we all please stop talking about my private life?” I said, exhaling in exasperation.
I got up and walked over into the kitchen where Kir was assembling a tray of food and

plates. I leaned my chin on his shoulder. “They always like this?”

“No. I ain’t had a boyfriend here before. This is all pretty new to me.”
I put my arm around his waist, unsure how I felt about the term ‘boyfriend’ but not

displeased by it. “That makes two of us. Please tell me you’re about to stop playing with that
because I’m about to pass out from hunger.” My stomach obligingly made a rather rude growling
noise as I spoke. “See? The beast is awake.”

“Here.” He handed me a piece of bread and butter. “Shove that in your mouth while I get the

rest of it. You guys eating too?”

A chorus of assent answered him, so I had to grumble and wait, chewing on the delicious

bread, while he brought out more plates and food. It was just the five of us. After I sat down, and
a plate with something more substantial than bread—cold cooked meat, with a salad and sliced
fruit as a side dish—was finally put in front of me, I asked, “Where’s everyone else?”

“They already had lunch,” Jeyle explained. “We’ve all got things to get on with, so except

for dinner, we tend to go our own way during the day.”

She looked at Kir as he passed her a plate. Their intent expressions indicated they were

talking in their heads. I tried not to look as bothered as I was by that.

Hermi was watching me. “Eat up, Jodi, and then we can answer some of your questions. I

know you’ve got dozens. Kir’s been dying to take you on a tour of the place too.”

“Maybe someone can tell me about your group. Why are you all here now, and not in

prison?”

Jeyle glanced at her lover, who nodded. “Okay, I’m the historian so I suppose that’s my job,”

she said. “I don’t know what you remember of your school days—what you were told about the
terrors. You probably heard that paranormals were involved in the attempted assassination of
President Kalime, and the subsequent discovery of a network of Spiritists trying to hide
paranormals from registration.” I nodded. “Most of what you heard was pure shit, especially the
nonsense about our people working with Febkeinze terrorists within Pindone. A telekinetic did
try to kill the president, but there’s evidence to suggest he was working for the military at the

time.”

“That...no, I don’t believe that.”
She shrugged. “You’ve seen my powers, Jodi. If I wanted to kill someone, mercy forbid, I

wouldn’t have to show my hand the way that assassin did. He was set up, I’m certain of it—to
make a threat look real. What is definitely true is that the Spiritists were never involved in any
terrorism. They were helping paranormals get out of the country after the clampdown started, but
nothing more than that. Unfortunately the Marranite division in the government were successful
in gaining their proscription. A lot of people hated us already. This was just an opportunity to get
us completely under control. It wasn’t a coincidence that naksen’s development had been
completed not long before all this.”

“Are you saying it was all a conspiracy?”
“Yes. It had two effects. It meant paranormals could be herded together and controlled

without any substantial public protest, and the government of the day and their successors could
use us as an overarching security threat to justify a more general clampdown on public freedoms.
I can tell you that in my youth, our lives, our media, were never this tightly controlled.
Paranormals played an important part in society and its protection, and though we were disliked
and distrusted by a few, we integrated well. Never as well as in the Weadenal, or even Darsino,
but well enough. With a few acts of a government with an agenda, we were suddenly
criminalised, and our lives ruined. Children like Kir were taken from their families, and families
like mine were torn asunder. Every person here has lost someone—children, spouses, lovers,
family—loved ones who were either forced to keep away from them or chose to because of their
own fear.”

I thought of my own family, and how easy it was to be cast out. “How did you get out? And

who set up this place? That didn’t happen overnight.”

“No, it didn’t. The Weadenisis were outraged by the oppression of a group they have always

held in great respect, which is why we don’t have diplomatic relations with that country.
However, that didn’t mean they gave up on us—”

I held up my hands. “Hang on. Why would the Weadenisis—”
“That’s another long story,” she said with an apologetic smile. “Anyway, the Weadenisis

began to work covertly, setting up cells and networks. They work slowly because they, uh...have
had some experience at doing this before.” I frowned at her. “You’ll have to just accept some of
this, Jodi. It’s all a bit complicated.”

“Okay. They got you out?”
“Yes. They’d had some success smuggling lesser paranormals out of the country, even

breaking them out of secure compounds, but we major ones were a problem. The government
finally made a fatal error though—they moved us to two major prisons, all together. Kir was in
our group. Most of the younger ones were in the other. It was our group they managed to free.

Unfortunately, the other attempt failed, and after that, the government dispersed talents like you
among the general prison population, many to the underground detention centres, which made it
impossible for telepaths to scan them. If Kir hadn’t found out where you were being kept, we
would never been able to free you.”

I looked at Kir, intent on his food. “How did you find me?”
“That girl, Ajeile,” he said. “I was keeping tabs on your parents, but they didn’t know where

you were and didn’t try to find out. After she visited them, I kept tabs on her and that’s how I
confirmed you were there.”

“She’s not a spy?”
“If she is, she don’t know it. Doesn’t know it.” And with that cryptic remark, he turned back

to his food and refused to look at me again.

“We’ve had very little luck like that since the main break out,” Jeyle continued. “Some of

our people are working for Noret—most would have refused as you did. We don’t know where
the others are. It’s one of our main activities, trying to locate them. But every time we do
something like we did in getting you out, it closes off one avenue of attack. The Marranites will
now be much more difficult to infiltrate, even with Kir’s skills.”

“And the Weadenisis had this all set up for you?”
“Yes, more or less. They were using it as a base for several years, adding to the

infrastructure, and handed it over when our group was freed. We’ve been working on it, adapting,
expanding it, but the main structure was here before. It’s been a refuge for a long time. The
Weadenisis operate similar ones in their country, because they are no more trustful of their
government than ours.” She tapped my plate. “You should eat.”

I cut some meat and ate it dutifully, trying to take in all this new information. “I still don’t

understand the Weadenisi connection. They just want to help because we’re paranormals?”

“It’s a religious belief of theirs. It’s not one I share, but it’s not unlike Spiritism in that they

believe all paranormals are joined in a communion of spirits.”

“Talking to the dead.”
Hermi cleared his throat. “No, that’s not what Spiritism involves. Don’t believe the

propaganda that told the world you were a terrorist, my dear boy.”

Hermi was an empath. Spiritists used to venerate them, or so I’d been told. “Are you a

Spiritist priest? Or a god?”

Dede nearly choked, and Jeyle burst out laughing. “Hermi? A god? In bed maybe.”
“Okay, more than enough information,” I said, glaring at Jeyle, while Hermi grinned to

himself. “So you’re all Spiritists? Is that the reason for the hair?”

Kir stopped smiling, and looked at his plate again. “No.”
“It might be easier to explain that later too,” Hermi said, patting my hand, but he looked at

Kir as he spoke. “We want to hold a greeting circle later to welcome you. Will you come?”

“Hermi, I don’t believe in Spiritism.”
“Good grief, my boy, who cares? A greeting circle is a group of friends who share a common

bond. In this case, our talents, our situation, and our friendship. The spirits don’t care if you
believe in them—they simply are. We don’t worship them or anything else.”

“I still...my mother’s a Child of Marra. I’m a little allergic to religious things just now.”
“And that I can understand. All I can say is that Spiritism isn’t a religion as you’d understand

it. In any event, you should meet everyone, and the greeting circle is the most convenient place to
do that.”

Kir still seemed unhappy. I put my arm around his waist. “What do you think?”
“Think you should do what you like. I don’t care.”
“Kir, don’t be unfriendly.” He glared at Jeyle for that comment.
“When do you want to do this? Is it just for me? I’m still a bit overwhelmed,” I said to

Hermi.

“I know that better than you do,” he said, grinning at me. “We have a greeting circle every

week or so. Tonight, tomorrow, doesn’t matter. If you want to attend, fine, if not, then later. We
have...a somewhat more urgent matter you need to help us with though, to do with the block on
your powers. Our friends from the Weadenal will be here in the next day or two and they will
want to ask you about this matter.”

“But I don’t know anything about it. I told the security investigators.” I leaned away from

him a little, towards Kir, who put his hand on my thigh.

“Calm down, Jodi. We know you know nothing. But that doesn’t mean you can reveal

nothing. Oh dear, you’re becoming distressed. Jeyle, enough for now. Jodi, finish your meal in
peace, and then Kir can give you the tour. I’m sorry,” he said, bowing a little. “It’s been so long
since I was freed from prison myself, I forget how long it takes to recover.”

Kir’s fingers gripped my thigh rather painfully. Ouch.
Um, sorry. He let go, but I felt the tension in his body. “Eat up, got lots to show you.”
Dede lifted a finger. “The clinic first, if you don’t mind, Jodi. Just a final check over. Won’t

take more than a few minutes.”

I agreed to Dede’s request with a nod, but my thoughts were on Kir, and what I hadn’t been

told. I sensed some murky undercurrents here, and I was aware that I was essentially trapped on a
remote mountain with a group of people I’d never met before and knew exactly nothing about. I
didn’t like the sound of these Weadenisis at all.

They’re fine, Jodi. Without them, we’d be fucked.
I turned to Kir, thinking the automatic rebuke for him listening to my thoughts, but not really

blaming him. Do you trust everyone here?

Yeah. But some of them don’t trust me. Some of them don’t like me much at all.
Why?

No one likes the garbage man sitting at their dinner table.
What?
But he bent down to finish his lunch and wouldn’t answer.
Neither would Dede when I asked her what the hell was up with Kir, after she’d finished her

checks and assured herself I was fine.

“It’s his story to tell, Jodi.” She paused for a few seconds. “Okay, he says I can tell you a

little. Quiz him about this and I’ll make your life a misery—just warning you.”

“Looks like the only person around here not allowed to have secrets is me.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s fair comment. But I’ve known Kir for nine years and I’ve known you

less than nine days. You’re my patient. He’s my dear friend. Forgive me for caring more about
him than you.”

For such a kind, smiling person, her eyes could look incredibly cold.
“At least that’s honest,” I said. “I don’t want to hear anything he doesn’t want me to know.

But I feel like I’m walking through a minefield without a map.”

The fierceness in her expression died, and she smiled more genuinely. “You are, and that’s

the truth. But it would have been so much worse nine years ago. Kir’s the youngest of us, except
for you. There are three of us here who were imprisoned as children—all of them were very
badly damaged, but Kir probably suffered the worst. When we were freed, he wasn’t sane, to the
point where serious consideration was given to wiping him.”

“Wiping?”
“It’s a technique that was used sometimes on overloaded empaths, and more rarely, on

paranormals who had developed such severe personality disorders that there was no helping
them, and the choice was between erasing their personalities and memories back to infancy, or
killing them. Kir was very close to being erased, just out of mercy. The Weadenisis suggested
they try some of their advanced therapy techniques. None of us had that kind of knowledge, so it
was that or erasure.”

She clenched her hands tightly on her knees, the memory apparently still haunting her after

all this time. “He was in so much pain, it was excruciating for me to be around him, for Hermi,
and our other mental talents. Anyway, he spent over a year in the Weadenal, and they performed
an absolute miracle on him, made him functional, preserved the strength in him, while helping
him to let go so much of what was hurting him. When he returned to us, Jeyle and Hermi more or
less adopted him—understand, he’s thirty-two, but was nothing like that in his emotional
development back then. Jeyle and Hermi educated him, helped him socialise, and he’s strong—
he’s done so much to heal himself. If you’d seen him when he first got out of prison, you’d have
thought he was a wild animal.”

I thought of Kir’s dark, emotionally open eyes and his generous soul, and cringed at the pain

he’d endured. “He’s amazing. I don’t understand why people don’t like him.”

“Because they’re fools,” she said, almost spitting. “Jodi, he’s improved remarkably, but he’s

still a fragile personality.”

“Is he listening to this?”
“No. I’ve extended my personal shield around our thoughts.”
“What?”
She gave me a forebearing look. “It’s an advanced technique. Just take it that he can’t hear

us, okay? Anyway, you need to be careful, don’t push, and respect his boundaries. Think about
all the triggers prison has left you with in a few months, and imagine what it was like for him, in
prison for sixteen years. I’d trust him with my life. You need to prove to me I could trust his with
you.”

“I don’t want to hurt him. He’s done so much for me. I’m just...confused.”
She patted my arm. “I know. But I also know you’ve got a good heart and good instincts.

Just don’t treat him like a freak. Too many people have done that,” she added darkly.

“Some of those people are here?”
“Some. Now, he’s waiting for you. I’ll put a mineral supplement out for you in the living

area. You’re anaemic as I thought, but not desperately. Just don’t skip meals, and make sure you
use the daylight lounge. Kir will show you. Other than that, enjoy feeling well.”

“Oh, I do.”
“And keep an eye out for your powers returning. Jeyle will be most put out if you set fire to

anything.”

I agreed to be careful, though it worried me somewhat that I could do exactly as she jokingly

warned, and then she sent me on my way. I found Kir hanging around the door when I came out.
I came up to him and wrapped my arms around him, so I could kiss him.

“She told you what a mess I am?” he asked, sliding his hands around my waist.
“I won’t ask about it. I don’t need to.” I kissed him again, savouring the taste and feel of his

lips. “Okay, show me your playground.”

I’d said it lightly, but it was truer than I realised. It really was like some giant’s folly, with

secret nooks and treasure caverns, and so many unexpected things. The pride and joy, and
essential to the health and wellbeing of the residents, was the huge daylight lounge. It slightly
resembled the hydroponics area in the prison with the large daylight-simulating lamps and high
ceilings, but this was a haven. Huge exotic ferns grew in massive tubs, cosseted by gentle water
sprays that kept the air humid and pleasant without becoming foetid. Several long leather sofas
and low tables invited the visitor to rest, read, sleep if they wished. To one side, a fountain played
water over a figure of a duga, its fins outstretched as if to splash through the ocean spray. Glass
sculptures nestled in cunning nooks on the wall, and flat growing plants trickled down it. I
wanted to sit and rest for a while, and Kir happily allowed it, taking the time to tell me what other
things this ancient and apparently endless facility concealed.

We’d only seen part of it, Kir explained. Naturally occurring lava tubes and fissures had

been patiently excavated and expanded over centuries, the refuge inhabited, abandoned, but
always remembered, the knowledge passed down by telepaths and never written down.

“S’what’s so dangerous about them locking all the paras up,” he said. “We got no continuity

going. We were lucky the Weadenisis preserved this for us, but if they hadn’t, we’d have lost it.
Paranormals got to have a sanctuary, cos governments turn on us all the time. But they ain’t ever
got rid of us completely,” he add with a flash of white teeth.

“Not for want of trying,” I murmured.
Wind supplied the energy in this enclave, though some others drew on geothermal

generation. Energy and water were plentiful, but everything else had to be brought in. They had
learned lessons from the prisons, at least. A thriving hydroponics garden operated on one of the
lower levels. It made me shiver as we passed it after our little break in the daylight lounge. Kir
didn’t suggest we go in there, but he showed me everything else—workshops, a distillery, huge
stores of food and non-perishable, and freezers full of meat and dairy products.

“Where does it all come from?”
“We get supplies every couple of months. Comes up through the mountains, and the TKs

move it up here. All happens at night so we don’t ping no surveillance. We have to be careful.
Can’t let our heat signature get distinctive. We cool everything before it gets vented. We don’t
throw anything away. All the water’s recycled, all the organic waste is composted, and the
inorganic stuff gets reused or burned.”

“And you have communications?”
“Oh yeah. That’s what the Weadenisis set this place up for. We got connections all over the

planet. But we ain’t got into some of the key systems, like the prison records. They tightened all
that stuff up after we was sprung. Come on, I want to show you something. This is my place.”

We travelled along more narrow corridors and took three sets of metal stairs before we

reached ‘his place.’ It turned out to be a fully equipped carpentry workshop, complete with lathe
and other power equipment all carefully stored. Furniture in various stages of construction stood
around—chairs, a chest of drawers, a table like those used in the daylight lounge—and on the
workbenches I saw smaller objects probably intended for kitchen use. Timber and boards were
stacked neatly at the far end of the room. There seemed to be enough to supply a small settlement
with all its needs.

I stared at all the beautifully carved wood, the sheen luxurious in the bright yellow lighting,

the smell of shavings rich, fresh, seductive. Kir seemed to find them seductive too, because he
ran his hands through a metal tin full of them as we talked.

“You make furniture.”
“Yeah. Other things too. Bowls, containers and stuff.” He waved at the workbench where

such things sat waiting to be finished. “Whatever needs doing. I learned in prison. One of the

TKs in the other group taught me some more. He’s got a shop over their side. Ferige’s one of my
friends.”

“So not one of the ones who don’t trust you?”
“No.” He picked up a handful of shavings and let them trickle from his fingers. “They use

these to make stuff smell nice. If I let them, they’d turn all my wood into shavings. Here.” He
walked over to a cupboard and opened it, pulled out a box. “I make these sometimes. Don’t know
why. Ain’t no kids here to play with them.”

I lifted one of the objects out—tiny carved animals, some naturalistic, some whimsical, all

delicate and finely finished.

“Marra’s tits, Kir, these are gorgeous. Where did you get the ideas for them?” They had to

have taken hours each, and there were a dozen in this box, all carefully packed in wool.

“Um, when I was little...before prison, I had books and books of animals. Loved them.”
“And you remembered them from all that time ago?”
“Yeah. Got total recall.” I looked at him in surprise. “Ain’t always a gift,” he said,

shrugging. “That’s what them Weadenisis helped me with. Forgetting. I ain’t real good at
forgetting, and sometimes I have to.”

I cupped his cheek and kissed it. “You’re amazing.”
He flushed. “No, I ain’t. You can keep one of them, if you like it. No one seems to care

about them much. Jeyle, she and Hermi got a few. Dede has some in the clinic. They’re kids’
things.”

“They’re really not,” I murmured. I chose a baby barchin, curled up asleep on its wool bed,

the detail simply astonishing. I swore I could see its eyelashes. “It’s one of the most beautiful
things I’ve ever seen. The most exquisite gift anyone’s ever given me.”

His eyes smiled more than his mouth did. Were people here so dull they couldn’t see what a

treasure they had?

“You’re looking tired, Jodi.”
“I am, a bit. I might lie down for a couple of hours.”
“Uh...want some company? You might faint or something.”
“Subtle, Kir,” I said, and he grinned. “Yes, quite right.”
He started to tug on my arm but I resisted. “Wait....”
“What?”
“You’re okay with sleeping with me? I’m not sick any more.”
“I know. Come on, you need the rest.”
I let him lead me out of the room. It was all...so cosy, so easy with him. It bothered me a

little but he seemed sure, and it wasn’t like I hated being with him, so why not go with it and see
where it led me?

Chapter Nine

My little barchin sat on the side table where I could see it as I lazily stroked Kir’s hair, both

of us languid and comfortable after sex.

“Six months ago, I was a doctor. I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. Now what

am I?” I murmured.

His hard, clever hands cupped my backside as he stared into my eyes. “What do you want to

be?”

“A doctor. I always did want to be one, even when I was small. Don’t see you needing me

that much.”

“Maybe. We all do different jobs. When you’re feeling a bit stronger, you’ll go on the duty

roster.”

“What do you do?”
“I’m not on it. I...uh...I have other jobs to do.”
Back to the mystery. I fingered his coarse, dark hair. “Tell me about the braid thing.”
“It’s stupid.”
“Painful stupid?”
“A bit.”
I snuggled close to him. “Then I don’t need to know.”
“It’s...um...kinda like a badge. Jeyle’s a historian, remember? She used to study the Dar-sen,

and she said they had this thing about long hair being like a sign of the clan. And Hermi said, oh,
why don’t we use that to show that we’re all a clan. This was just after we all got sprung. They
was all big on the Spiritism thing, and Hermi thought the braids would be like a badge of honour.
Stupid, really.”

“Is that why you didn’t grow yours?”
“No, I grew it. Then I cut it off.”
There were hidden things in his eyes again. I was close to stepping on a mine in his

unmapped field. “Okay.”

“Jodi, Dede didn’t tell you everything about me. I asked her not to. I want to tell you. I

just...some of it’s hard to talk about.”

I pulled him close to me, tucked his head against my neck. “We’ve got plenty of time. You

tell me what you want to and what you need to. I can wait until you’re ready. I know it’s painful.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.
We napped in each other’s arms for the rest of the afternoon, awaking thickheaded and

sleepy in time for supper. We walked into the living area hand in hand, earning us some looks.

Kir’s mouth tightened a little as he led me to the dining area, now full of people and lit to suggest
evening, rather than the middle of the day.

A quick estimated headcount indicated this was almost the full compliment of residents,

crowding around the table which had been pulled apart in the centre to make two semi-circles for
ease of access. We squeezed in at the end near Dede, but before he sat down, Kir cleared his
throat.

“Everyone? This is Jodi. I’ll get round to introducing you all later. Take it easy on him,

okay?”

People nodded and waved at me, smiling and welcoming, apparently all friendly and happy

to see me. I’d never been shy and my natural reaction would normally have been to go up and say
hello. But I’d heard too much today to be relaxed. I needed to know more about the alliances here
—who believed what, who could be trusted and who could not. For now, I would follow Kir’s
lead.

We were very obviously the youngest people in the room. Over a dozen of the residents were

quite geriatric, and two—a man and a woman—very ancient indeed, though in apparent good
health and looked after solicitously by younger companions. My arrival was big news still, and
people had been waiting to quiz me. If Dede hadn’t beat a few of them off, I’d never had a
chance to eat some of the remarkably delicious meat pie and spiced vegetables.

No one, I noticed, asked about my time in prison. What they wanted to know most about was

Vizinken, and the politics of the real world, and to gain through me a taste of what they had lost.
Mentioning some of the concerts, the galleries I’d visited before my arrest, made one little old
lady sigh sadly, and others nod with recognition and regret. They had been liberated, but far from
free, their home as effective a prison as that I’d just left. The food was better though.

Hermi oiled the conversation and kept it smooth apparently without effort. He had to be one

of the reasons such a diverse and potentially irritable group worked together so well. Everyone
deferred to him as their leader, though I hadn’t been told of any formal hierarchy. Jeyle was his
lieutenant, Dede their trusted aide. And Kir...what was Kir’s role? Beloved son and friend? Or
more? I still had so many questions, but not for this company.

After I’d had a chance to eat a little, Hermi rose and made a short speech of welcome to me,

then announced that the greeting circle would be the following night, which was when they now
expected their Weadenisi friends to turn up. This was apparently nothing of any surprise to
anyone. It happened too regularly to be exciting.

Kir stuck to my side throughout the meal. I got to know a few of the faces—two telepaths,

sitting close to us, and one of the pyrokinetics, Ronwe. He said he would help me once my talent
emerged again, explaining that PKs learned how to control their powers in childhood, but since
I’d missed out on that, I’d need training. Mostly I sat and listened to the conversation, trying to
assess personalities, interests, how I would fit in with this diverse group as both a newcomer and

a relative youngster. One oddity I noted—Kir wasn’t just the only one without a braid, he was the
only one without hand tattoos. Another mystery about my new lover.

After supper, people congregated on the long leather sofas and chairs, and, for the less

elderly among us, even on the thick floor rugs, resting butts and heads on large, embroidered
cushions. They made up a circle once more, something I’d rarely seen before I’d come here—the
Pindoni style was to sit in lines, facing, and no house had a circular table as they used here. It had
a symbolism for them, I guessed, but forbore from asking right then. After all, I’d have plenty of
time to learn all I needed to about these people. Years and years, by the look of it.

Kir and I snuggled in the corner of a sofa under a soft, dull red blanket, his arm possessively

around my waist. We weren’t the only same sex couple by any means. So strange to see women
embracing without any fear or secrecy, other men unashamedly holding hands. Between this and
the food, I believed I might eventually grow to like this rocky abode.

The curiosity about my background had not been sated, and that led to a conversation in

which I learned more about my new ‘family’. Many had been professionals before the terrors.
Jeyle had been an anthropologist and historian, working as an Academy lecturer, once married
with two adopted children, and now divorced as most of them were, their spouses having taken
the easy road of getting rid of partners damned as criminals. Hermi had been a vet. Others were
teachers, artists, engineers, programmers.

Kir was unusual in having quite a working class background. He reluctantly admitted his

father had been a cleaner cum handyman and his mother had worked as a waitress. He’d been one
of three children. He didn’t express any regret at having no further contact with his family, but I
sensed something painful there that didn’t bear poking. I hugged him closer to me and wished
he’d not had to go through it. My life had been feather-bedded compared to his. Much as my
parents and I mutually disappointed each other, at least I’d had a normal childhood, with many
happy moments. Kir’s life had been much less happy.

Talk turned to the upcoming visit by the Weadenisis, and though I had drowsed a little, the

warmth and the simple pleasure of Kir’s body against mine lulling me towards sleep, I roused
myself to listen.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “If you don’t worship or pray, what exactly do you Spiritists do

in these greeting circles?”

Hermi smiled. “You don’t know very much about Spiritism, do you? Not surprising,

considering. It’s not an old religion, but then neither is Marranism, strictly speaking, though its
roots are old. Spiritism is a conscious revival of ancient Dar-Sen tradition, a deliberate evocation
of ethics and beliefs which reject the concept of an all-powerful deity and place responsibility for
one’s actions and the happiness of society with the individual, and the individual acting in
communion with others.”

At the Academy, I’d done a module on the history of the Dar-sen peoples and their ethical

code of conduct, now held up to us as an admirable model of how physicians should conduct
themselves even though the code had been written thousands of years ago. I found it hard to
connect those principles with what I knew of Spiritism, and had never heard that it had anything
to do with Dar-sen history.

“I was always taught it was about speaking to the dead. Which is impossible.”
“Yes, of course it is. The dead don’t speak.”
He looked at me. He wasn’t telling me something, but I felt he expected me to work out what

that was.

“You claim to see the dead?”
“In a way.” Kir’s grip tightened on me again as Hermi answered, but I wasn’t sure why. “We

—that is, Spiritists—believe as the Dar-sen did all those many years ago, that the human spirit
endures beyond the physical body. That these spirits pass from life to life, and that the
connections we form between each other are both the result of our past lives, and will also affect
our future lives. There are some well-documented examples of certain spirits finding and
refinding each other in subsequent incarnations.”

“What?” I sat up, annoyed by such nonsense.
Hermi smiled patiently and waved at me to simmer down. “Wait, before you condemn our

beliefs, perhaps consider some of the things you were brought up with and ask if they are any
more provable.”

Jodi, it’s okay. Just talking. Don’t get mad.
Kir watched me with worried eyes. I kissed him and settled back. “Go on,” I said to Hermi.
“Thank you. One of the things we believe spirits carry with them are the talents—our

paranormal abilities. To us, that explains why your attempts to ‘cure’ us were doomed to fail.
You can’t cure someone of their very soul.”

“Just because we hadn’t found an answer, didn’t mean there was a supernatural explanation.

There’s a genetic basis to paranormality. The answer must lie in manipulating that.”

My response didn’t dim his smile at all. “And yet, were you ever able to explain why so

many with the genes don’t have the power? And so many with the genes and the power, have
such different talents and abilities? No. Spiritism believes the spirit finds a suitable receptacle,
and it’s the spirit not the genes which determine the actual ability.”

“You can’t expect me to accept that, Hermi. I’m a scientist.”
He shook his head. “I know, I know. Too mystical. But to us it gives us hope of a

continuance of our souls. And for me, as an empath, it’s a comfort, because I can see the spirits
who linger, unable to pass on, and know that they will and be happy when they do.” He frowned.
“My dear boy, what’s—”

I sat up and pulled away from Kir. “You’re lying.”
The room fell silent. Hermi continued to regard me with calm concern, though most of the

others avoided my gaze. Kir moved behind me. “Maybe we should take this outside.”

“Why? Don’t like to hear the truth?” I twisted to look at him.
No, because I think you don’t want to look like a fucking idiot in front of new friends. Your

choice.

I stood up, unable to keep the sneer off my lips. “As you wish.” I stalked out, not much

caring if they followed. What the hell had I fallen into here, with people who believed this kind
of drivel? I was a rational man. I would not be swayed by sentimental idiocy.

I sat on the couch and rubbed my eyes. I wasn’t up to this physically. Emotionally either,

most likely.

Hermi walked in, his steps cautious as if afraid to spook me. He sat down in the armchair

opposite me. Kir hovered in the doorway, but I ignored him.

“Someone died, didn’t they,” he said. “Someone close to you?”
“Why do you ask? Think you can see their ghost?”
“No. I can’t see anyone here.”
“Hah. Then you are a fake, because the man who died had more than enough reason to hang

around. Your beliefs are rubbish.”

Kir came into the room. Passing on all my secrets? I snarled at him.
Jodi, try not to be a prick to everyone, okay? Hermi’s trying to help. Tell him about Neim.
Why don’t you, since I don’t have any privacy.
He sighed and walked over to another chair, some distance from me, his expression a

mixture of worry and irritation. He said nothing more, keeping up a steady stare until I gave in
and turned to Hermi.

“Tell me about the man who died, Jodi. Not a friend? A patient?”
“Yes, a patient. He killed himself when I tried to help him. I have no idea why. I gave him a

chance to live a halfway normal life and he killed himself.”

I covered my head with my hands, that awful morning suddenly so fresh in my mind. One

would think after everything that had happened since then, Neim’s death would have faded a bit.
It hadn’t.

I heard Hermi move, then felt him settle next to me, his hand on my arm. Almost instantly

the grief and anger faded back to bearable levels. I looked up and glared. “My feelings are my
own. You don’t have the right to change them.”

His face, screwed up in pain, relaxed. He lifted his hand and moved back to his armchair.

“I'm sorry. I have difficulty watching someone suffer.”

I felt better for what he’d done, so it was hard to maintain my anger. “All right. But in future,

ask. I need to be able to choose.”

“Yes, you do. I apologise,” he said, with one of his little bows. “Can you talk about your

patient? Why should his spirit linger?”

“It won’t because there are no such things as ghosts.”
“Setting that aside....”
His patience in the face of my rudeness finally shamed me into answering. As briefly as I

could because it hurt to talk about this, I told him about Neim, the man’s son, and the stupidity of
his death. “He died happy, he said. He could have lived years and years without the naksen—”

“In prison.”
“No! Not a real prison, just a...he was living on the streets, Hermi! A homeless drunk with

nothing to live for. I gave him a place to live, a reason to live, and he wanted to be off the naksen,
so I arranged that.” I bit my lip. “But if anyone had unfinished business, it was him. He was so
upset about my not helping him over his son. I know that was bothering him. If he’d killed
himself because of that, it would have made sense, but not—”

“But he told you, Jodi,” Kir interjected. “He wanted to die happy. For him, that was as good

as it was gonna get. In his situation, I’d have done it different, but I get it. What was he looking
forward to? He ain’t got his boy, he’s either gonna be a prisoner or on fucking drugs. Right there
and then, he was at peace. So he killed himself because he wanted not to lose that.”

“So I did kill him.” I wiped at my eyes. “He took my gift and spat it back in my face. All I

deserved, thinking what a wonderful thing it was that I was doing.”

Hermi leaned forward and patted my knee. “Jodi, to die at peace is not spitting in your face.

Neim knew what the future held for him, and he’d had enough. You gave him dignity and a
choice, and so few of our kind have that any more. I’m sure he blessed you with his last breath,
not cursed you.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “This is why he moved on. He left regrets,
of course. But his spirit was freed. He’s reborn, and who knows, may even meet his son again in
the boy’s lifetime.”

“It’s a nice story. I wish I believed it.”
“Even if you can’t, I think you’re being too hard on yourself about your role in his death.

Your intentions were good.”

“I thought if I could find a way to end paranormality, it would mean you could all lead

normal lives.”

Kir looked away. I’d have given anything to be able to read his mind right then.
Hermi’s kind gaze forced my attention back to him. “You weren’t the first to think so by any

means. Naksen’s predecessors were developed principally as a way of helping empaths. It can be
a very difficult gift, as is telepathy. Unlike telepathy, however, people can’t be taught to shield
against us. We pretty much get everything,” he added with a dry little laugh.

“I didn’t help anyone, did I? My work, my research...I just added to the torture.”
“Your motives were pure. It may take some time for you to make peace with your past. More

time than this evening when you’re clearly tired and upset, and need to be in bed, not being
stirred up. We can talk of this again, as many times as you wish. I'm truly sorry that I spoke of

my Spiritist beliefs without exploring your personal history of grief in private.”

I shook my head. “I was the arse, Hermi.”
“A man who’s had a great deal to bear in a very short time. Only a fool would blame you for

that. Get some rest, Jodi.”

Kir stood. “Come on. Hermi’ll tell the others and you should hit the sack.”
“I'm sorry,” I said.
“Can everyone stop fucking apologising?” Kir complained. “You’re making me cranky.”
Hermi let out a little laugh. “Poor Kir. I can’t even say sorry for saying sorry.” Kir poked his

tongue out. “Good night, my dear boys. Sleep well, Jodi, and know that in your belief and in
mine, Neim is at peace, whatever he suffered in this life. Take comfort from that.”

“I’ll try. Good night.”

~~~

Kir walked me back to my room, saying nothing until we reached the door. I turned to him

and grabbed his arm.

“I’ll understand if you say no...but would you stay with me tonight?”
He nodded and opened the door. “I’ll be back in a tick—just need to clean up and stuff.”
When I came back from cleaning my teeth, I found him wearing a bathrobe and sitting on the

bed, his clothes neatly folded on the chair. “Are you sure about this? You’re being very patient
with my idiocy, Kir. I feel such a damn fool.”

“You ain’t no fool. This stuff’s hard. I got an advantage, cos I can see inside Hermi’s head,

tell he ain’t lying. You can’t.”

“No. Though I wouldn’t want either of your talents, actually.”
“Being an empath sucks. They’re great people—they have to be—but they get all the shit.”
“So do you.”
He shrugged. “You just want to sleep?”
I went to him and cupped his cheek, stared into his dark eyes. “What do you want?”
His arms went around my thighs. “Uh...you? Would you mind?”
“Not at all.”
I slipped the bathrobe off his shoulders, and admired the fine body before me—lean and

dark, with a runner’s build and scars that spoke of too many awful things that happened a long
time ago.

“Think you could bring yourself to fuck me?”
His expression became shyly pleased. “You’d let me?”
“You could hardly make me. Yes, of course I’d let you.”
“Gotta undress you first.”
“By all means.”
I had to smile at his intent expression as he stripped me, as if afraid he might break

something. “I’m not fragile, Kir.”

“I know. I just...you’re so pretty. I want to take my time.”
And he did, his hands stroking over every square midec of my skin, exploring like he’d never

seen a man before. After subsisting for so long on furtive blow jobs and hand jobs from complete
strangers, it was a luxury I hadn’t expected, intense and intensely strange.

At last he’d laid me bare, and I had apparently passed his inspection because he stood there,

smiling at me and my erection.

“Are you just going to look?”
“No. You’re so beautiful. I never seen someone so good-looking.”
“Hmmm. Dede checked your eyesight lately?”
He stuck his tongue out at me. “Cheeky bugger.”
He put his arms around me, and I crushed him close to me as I kissed him.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “For what I said, what I thought—for what you went through. I

was living like a privileged little prince and you were being punished, and yet we’re the same.”

“Weren’t your fault.”
“It was done in my name. The name of ‘normals’.”
“You gotta let it go, Jodi. The hate eats you alive if you don’t. I learned that.”
I leaned back a little so I could look at him. “You’re still angry.”
“Well, yeah. Cos I ain’t perfect and I can’t help seeing....” He took a deep breath. “Hermi

helps.”

“I’m glad he does. I don’t know how he bears it, but I’m glad he can.”
“Two-edged sword, see? Empaths need people, but people hurt them.”
“You’re the same. You need people, but they hurt you.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He gave me a half-smile. “‘S funny. I was almost lonely when they sprung

me from prison. I never slept on my own before. Felt cold.”

“That’s why you like sleeping with me?”
“You mind?”
“Of course I don’t mind. You’re the one helping me. You all are. I hope I reach the point

soon where I can repay the favours.”

“We don’t think like that.”
“I do. So, take me to bed?”
His manner was gentle in a way that told me that he knew what it was like when someone

wasn’t gentle, and worried too much that he hurt me, even though his talent should have told him
he hadn’t. He made love with skill and consideration, and I wondered where he had learned,
because I doubted anyone in prison had taught him anything other than to fear.

For me, it was enough that he looked me in the eye as he fucked me, that his hand on my

cock felt exquisitely hard, and his cock filled me like we were made to be joined this way. His

kisses when he came were desperate and grateful and so sweet that I felt a bastard all over again
for the way I’d spoken to him earlier, for what I’d thought.

He insisted on cleaning us up, which I tolerated only so long as it took, then I grabbed the

cloth and threw it in the general direction of the little sink. I dragged him down so I could hold
him and kiss him some more.

“I think Dede’s right.” He raised his eyebrows questioningly at my words. “Sexual function

has returned.”

He grinned and settled in my arms. I turned the light off. A small green lamp remained

glowing over the door. Safety feature, I supposed. The stone, windowless walls seemed less
oppressive in the dark.

I was tired but my mind was too busy to sleep. I probably kept Kir awake but I didn’t want

him to use his talent on me again. It was useful, but a little disturbing to be under someone’s
control that easily.

“Kir, these Weadenisis—they’re Spiritists? Hermi hinted they weren’t exactly.”
“They are and they ain’t. They believe in the communion of the spirits, but they think only

paranormals have souls. They think everyone else are dumb animals. Gotta say, I can understand
why they think that.”

“You don’t like normals, do you?”
“I ain’t had the best experience of them. Some are okay. We work with a lot in Vizinken,

other places. They help smuggle minor paras out of the country. They don’t all hate us, and some
suffered as bad as we did, nearly. They lost their families, like Neim’s son did. But most normals
just think we’re vermin.”

“I never thought that. I always wanted to help.”
“Yeah. But you wasn’t.” He paused. “It ain’t you so much, just them other scientists. The

ones who pushed naksen onto us. You and me and the rest of us in prison, we’re lucky the other
guys kept us so short. That guy, Neim? Was probably impotent. ‘Less of course, the dealers were
stealing from him too.”

“What, outside prison? I’ve never heard—”
He made a rude noise. “Oh yeah, like a para’s gonna report someone stealing his naksen?

The defs would lock him up for not being up on his dose. Neim probably drank to cope with
withdrawal. It’s either that, or you get all the stuff that comes from being on naksen all the time.
You need to talk to Dede. It’s bad, what that stuff does. Real bad.”

I thought about protesting that I had access to all the data about naksen for my research, but

then remembered what she’d said about jozidem. If she was right then there’d been a lot of
relevant information concealed. Apart from anything else, it meant our approach might have been
altered had we known.

“They didn’t want you to find an answer,” Kir said, answering my unspoken thoughts.

“That makes no sense. Why not find a harmless permanent solution to something they see as

a problem?”

“Yeah, I wonder why not?”
“Another conspiracy?”
“Hey, I’m just a dumb TP. What do I know?” I poked him in the side, but he had nothing

more to add. “You should get to sleep.”

“Trying to. Shouldn’t have had a nap earlier.”
“Want me to help?”
“No. Thanks. You don’t have to stay if I’m keeping you awake.”
He tightened his grip on me. “Gonna stay ‘till you tell me to go.”
“Suits me,” I said, smiling as I kissed his forehead. I thought if I kept very quiet and still, my

body’s weakness would catch up with me, but it didn’t. I kept thinking about Neim, and the
conversation with Hermi, and spirits, and none of it made any sense.

The dark seemed to close in on me. I felt the weight of the tons of rock above me, around

me, and knowing I couldn’t walk out of here any more than I could in prison, made my heart start
to race, my breathing grow out of control. I forced it down, again and again, but finally, I
couldn’t stand it any more. I needed to move around.

I swung out of bed, but as my hand reached for the lamp, a flame appeared from the tips of

my fingers. I yelped and shook my hand, but the flames wouldn’t go away.

Jodi, calm down. Stop. Relax. It’s your powers. Nothing to be afraid of. Just think of the

flames being gone. That’s it.

As the flames disappeared, I slumped back onto the bed, my heart thumping, my mouth dry

with fear. “Bloody hell.” Kir’s arms slid around my chest. “I need a drink, Kir. I really need a
drink.”

He turned the side light on, and I winced at the sudden brightness. “You think that’s a good

idea?”

“I don’t care. I’ve...I’ve got to get out of this room. I’m sorry.”
I dressed quickly, nearly falling over in my haste, and bolted. Kir, who’d dressed as fast as

me, was hot on my heels, following in silence. The living area was quiet and empty, the lights on
low. I had no idea where the controls could be found, but Kir did and turned them up a little. The
large space with its bright colours and soothing, ordinary furniture did a little to calm my nerves,
but by no means enough.

“Go sit. I’ll find you something,” he said.
I went over the sofa where we’d been earlier and sat huddled in the corner, almost afraid to

breathe, wondering if fire would shoot out of my mouth. I had no idea how this power worked.
I’d never been close to a major pyrokinetic before—let alone dreamed I was one.

“Here.”

I looked up and Kir handed me a glass of something vaguely red. I sniffed—not temlido, but

not unpleasant. “It’s something from the Weadenal,” he said. “I don’t drink spirits, but it’s
supposed to be good stuff.”

I sipped it. It tasted herby and a little harsh, but it rolled nicely on my tongue, and after I’d

swallowed a little more, I could feel my toes warming up. “It’s good, thank you. Come and sit.”

He curled up beside me, arm protectively around me, and as I sipped more of the drink, he

tried to explain my talent to me. “The fire thing ain’t hard to work out. You just gotta be careful
for a bit when you think about lights and flames and things. Don’t wish too hard for it, if you
know what I mean. Ronwe’ll help you, but you should start to feel it when you want to produce
fire. It’s about imagining what you want, but you gotta close it in, kinda.” He frowned. “It’s not
like the telepathy cos that’s kinda automatic. This, you gotta control. Try it. Hold your hand out,
and imagine a tiny flame. It’s okay—you won’t get burned. Think of a flame just above your
skin.”

I did as he suggested, and gasped as, almost immediately, bright yellow light burst into life

above my palm.

“Okay, now make it grow a little. Feel in your head how it works, what’s happening when

you do it. It works with your whole body, but concentrate on the mental part. Here...let me help
focus you....”

And then I made the connection. How the want had to be a particular kind of want, and how

changing my desire had an effect on the flame. I didn’t even have to see it in my mind. I just had
to want it a certain way. I could make it hot or cold, large or small, glow white and tight, or
yellow and loose. Strange I could feel the heat, but that I had some kind of immunity to it. I
doubted I could actually touch the flame and escape injury, but it could dance very close without
doing the harm I predicted. Something I’d never known about major pyrokinetic powers.

“Now, imagine it gone,” Kir said quietly. I did, and it worked. I grinned at him in triumph.

“See? You need to practise some more. Usually kids learn this stuff playing. It’s easier when
you’re little. I don’t know how your parents didn’t notice.”

“If they had, they’d have screamed bloody murder. My Mam would have at least. She hates

paras.”

I swallowed more of my drink and thought gloomy thoughts about my parents. I could

imagine Mam’s reaction when she got the news about me—a deev and a para. Oh, the everlasting
shame of it all.

“I didn’t like her. I scanned both of them—your Da was worried sick, but she’s...all twisted

up. Reminded me a bit of my mother.”

I finished the drink and set it on the little table in front of us. “Does she know you’re out of

prison?”

“Nope. That’s cos Mam’s dead. Killed herself.”

He drew a knee up under his chin and stared into space.
“I was only little so I didn’t know what it was I was reading from her, but her thoughts were

all jumbled, dark. I think she hated us. ‘Specially after the twins. One kid was okay, but three of
us.... Da was always working—he was great when he was around but he wasn’t around much.
Mam had to work too. Told me I had to help look after my sisters when they were born. I was
only four, but I was so proud, cos I was the one who had to make sure they was okay. Didn’t
know it wasn’t the usual thing for a baby to look after other babies. I did the best I could, but it
was hard. Wasn’t playing, it was real. Mam cooked, kinda, but I done the bathing and dressing
them, and looking after them when she was off in bed, refusing to come out or speak to us. Don’t
know what was wrong with her. I loved my sisters like some kids love their pets. They was
everything to me.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “When they found out I was a TP, Mam slapped my face.

Next day the men came, dragged me away. She didn’t look at me. Da wasn’t there, don’t know
why.”

I leaned on him, resting my chin on his shoulder. “She might have had depression. She

sounds as if she couldn’t cope with life.”

“Yeah, I figured that out later. But at first, I was hysterical, missing them, missing my sisters

most of all. I didn’t know what to do, see. I needed...I needed someone to look after. To love.
Ended up looking after the other kids in the prison, best I could. Hermi says I was using it to
replace my mother. I felt...real empty and lost a lot of the time, and then I got angry. Got into
fights, sometimes protecting me, sometimes protecting other kids. Got flogged three times, but it
didn’t stop me. I’d see some little kid being hurt, I had to wade in. I couldn’t help myself.”

Flogging. A child. I shuddered. These things weren’t supposed to go on. “And you found out

about your mother when?”

“Not till we all escaped. Da and Mam never visited in prison. I found out a lot later Da

turned care of me officially over to the Children’s Department. No one told me about Mam, you
see. Dunno why. Officially, I could have been adopted, but no one wanted a telepathic kid who
was stuck in ‘detention’ for fuck knows how long. Had to wait until I was a grown man before
anyone wanted me. Jeyle and Hermi kinda claimed me as their own. ‘Course they got their own
problems about families.”

“You were in prison, I was in school. Top of every class, popular, good at whatever I tried.

And I had the gall to bitch about my family,” I said, shaking my head at how little I’d had to
complain about.

“Your Mam’s real religious, ain’t she? She always been like that?”
“A little. She was always a bit odd compared to other mothers I knew. I was smarter than her

—a lot smarter—and too arrogant to hide it, and I didn’t make any secret of what I thought of her
religious manias. It was a relief to both of us when I left home at fifteen to go to boarding school.

I never lived at home again after that, not permanently. But they weren’t cruel parents, and I had
everything I needed. Nothing compared to your childhood.”

He shrugged, but said nothing. It was perhaps somewhat tactless of me to talk about my

family at all, in the circumstances. “Where are your father and sisters now? And would you want
to contact them?”

“They live in Derwedis. That’s south, near the coast. Other side of Tsikeni.” I nodded—

never been there, but I knew where it was. “I got Jeyle to take me there once. Wasn’t gonna talk
to them, I just wanted to see my sisters, know if they were happy and stuff. That’s when I found
out from reading my Da that Mam died after I got taken to prison—and he blamed me for that.
He hates me. To him, I was a curse on his house, and he’s glad I got taken away.”

He paused to rub his eyes a little. “He remarried a while ago. My sisters are married too, got

a kid each. They’re okay. They don’t remember me at all.”

“Oh, Kir. You’re no curse. You’re a blessing. Your mother was ill and your father would

rather blame you than face that.”

“I know. Don’t change nothing, though. I saw my sisters’ kids and I was so glad neither of

them was a para. I didn’t want them to break their Mam’s heart like I done broke mine.”

I cupped his face and made him turn so I could kiss him, and try to swallow some of the hurt

like Hermi had done for me earlier. “You didn’t break anyone’s heart. The only one at fault here
is the government.”

“I know that in my head. Just...in my heart, I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it.”
I pulled him close to me, and then leaned back on the sofa. Someone had folded up the red

blanket we’d used earlier. I drew it around us again so we were warm and snug. I couldn’t make
what happened to him right, but I could show him that he was cared for and very much wanted
now.

“I was like you, you know. Wondering if Mam was hanging around. She wasn’t. I’ve seen

the spirits though, through Hermi’s eyes. They don’t talk or nothing. It’s creepy. Even Hermi
thinks it’s creepy. He always tries to get them to move on. I wonder sometimes if Mam hung
around for a while and got sick of it. But I figured she probably was in a hurry to get to a better
life. This one sucked for her.” He forced a painful smile onto his face. “She’s probably around
somewhere. Some twenty-five-year-old woman, maybe with kids again, and this time she done it
right. What do you think?”

I kissed his forehead. “I think wherever she is, she’d be glad how you turned out.” He

shrugged, not believing me. “One day,” I murmured. “I want to find Neim’s boy and tell him the
truth. That his Da loved him to the day he died. I think, hearing your story, that he needs to know
that.”

“Yeah. One day, we’ll make that happen, okay?”

“Okay.” He wriggled down and laid his head on my chest. I rested my chin on his dark hair,

and held his hand. You deserved better.

I’m making up for all that now. You sure you don’t want to go back to bed?
Can’t. Feel trapped. You good?
Better than good. Go to sleep.
Yeah, in a....

Chapter Ten

I woke in my own bed with Kir tightly wrapped around me. I fumbled for the light, only just

remembering to be careful about my wishes in this matter, and glanced at Kir’s timekeeper,
sitting on the side table. It was only seven, but we’d gone to bed early, even with all my
disgusting theatrics.

Dede?
Good morning, Jodi.
Please don’t tell me you and Jeyle undressed us and put us to bed last night.
Okay.
Dede....
We didn’t! I woke you up, and you and Kir stumbled off under your own steam. I put you

back to sleep properly. I’d have left you where you were because you two were cute as buttons,
but Jeyle said you’d have a hell of a cricked neck and she was right. How are you feeling?

Physically or emotionally?
Either.
Um...perhaps not back to full health, but I can see it from here.
Excellent. Now Wesejne and Kateju will be here in an hour or so, so Kir will want to be

awake for that. Don’t keep him too busy.

Your interest in my sex life is a little unprofessional, Arwe Dedeke.
Nonsense. A healthy libido is a sign of a healthy man. I’m merely recording the information

for future reference.

I rolled my eyes at her and told her we’d be up as soon as Kir woke. I needed a pee and

didn’t want to wake him, but my slight shifting about did that. To look into his sleepy brown
eyes, full of affection, and know it was for me, had already become my favourite morning treat. I
hadn’t had that since Timo had made his choice. Kir’s kisses were also a welcome treat.

“Dede got us to bed.”
“Thought she might. She walks around a lot in the night time.”
“She seems to have been amused by finding us on the sofa.”
He grinned. “She’s an old perv.”
Kirvo hon Tanwen, you take that back.
No. Pervy old doctor.
I grinned as the mental battle launched, laughed at seeing Kir so silly and teasing. Two

weeks ago, I never thought I’d smile at anything again, and here I was, listening to two idiots
arguing about who was the most perverted.

Finally I nudged him. “Hungry. Food. Please.”
“Okay. You gotta learn where everything is. I can’t wait on you hand and foot.”
“Certainly not.”
We had time for more kissing and groping, and it might have led to more except Kir

remembered his friends, and said he didn’t want to be late. So we had a shower—still not
together but I had hopes—and then walked out to the living area. The place was full of people
again—lit more brightly too, the diurnal cycle clearly regulated with daylight imitation. One
could almost forget the lack of windows. Almost.

As we came up to the table, I cleared my throat. “Uh...everyone. Sorry about last night. I

uh...found it all a bit...uh, overwhelming. I made a fool of myself.”

“You’re not the first and you won’t be the last,” Jeyle said cheerfully. “Come and sit, Jodi.

Hermi, make yourself useful and bring some more toast, will you?”

There was plenty to eat—no porridge, for which I was grateful, since the mere sight of it

would certainly make me vomit—but there was toast, and savoury pastries, fresh, delicious fruit,
and both khevai and jilaj. No one was in a particular rush to leave. I told Ronwe about my talent
re-emerging, and we arranged for a private training session later that day.

“We might even be able to persuade someone to take us up top so you can really let rip.

Haven’t done that in too long.”

His lover—Lonin? Lonem?—poked him. “I will if you don’t get too close to Mount Kizwha

this time.”

“But I like volcanoes. They call to me.”
“They’ll boil you in lava regardless. Be good, or you’re not getting lucky for a week.”
Ronwe pulled a face. This seemed to be a regular routine between them because several of

the others sitting near them joined in the teasing. Kir listened to them with a grin on his face and
several winks at me. I was happy to sit back and let people be normal and happy around me for a
change.

Hermi was as friendly and kindly as he had the day before. Jeyle was pleasant, but she gave

me a few looks that made me wonder if she was angry with me. I supposed I could hardly blame
her, especially if Hermi had suffered because of my tantrum.

Dede told me a while back that it was a miracle that Hermi and Jeyle could make it work.
I turned to Kir. I wish you’d stop doing that.
Um. Sorry. I kept forgetting. When you’re this close, I can’t tell a lot of the time if you’re

talking or thinking.

Oh. I didn’t realise. Is it because of Hermi’s empathy, that Dede said that?
Yeah. She said a lot of major empaths find it hard to get close to people because of what they

find in their hearts. I know what it’s like. Fortunately, most people here are shielded. I’d go
crazy if I had to listen to what they think of me all the time.

I leaned in and kissed his cheek, my arm around his waist.
“No necking at the breakfast table!” someone called out.
Kir gave her the finger. Don’t listen to them, they’re jealous.
They should be. You’re cuter than any of them.
He smiled, flushing a little. I ain’t.
Yes, you are. Especially when you blush like that. Jeyle’s giving me the evil eye.
The ‘no necking at the table’ rule is cos of her and Hermi. They carry on something terrible

if you let them.

I kissed him again and sat up. “Sorry. Kir’s so irresistible.”
That won a smile from Jeyle, and a couple of giggles from further up the table. Kir looked

down at his plate and pretended it had nothing to do with him.

I felt ravenous, but we’d been provided with plenty of food and plenty of time to eat it.

Nearly an hour later, as I eyed the khevai pot and wondered if I really wanted another mug, Jeyle
put her hand to her ear.

“Oh, they’re here.” I wondered if she’d received a telepathic message, but now I looked

more closely I saw she wore a tiny communicator earpiece—and so did Hermi. Actually, quite a
lot of people did. I supposed I might be given one later on. “Kir? Jodi? Are you done? They want
to see you.”

I wiped my lips and fingers. “All yours.”
“We’re over on the other side this morning. We take turns,” she explained as the four of us

headed down one of the apparently endless tunnels in this place. “This evening we’ll have the
greeting circle here. Everyone’s excited about meeting you, Jodi.”

“I have no idea why,” I said, meaning it.
Jeyle shrugged. I wondered how long it would be before I stopped feeling like an outsider.
The ‘other side’ involved a short hop into the freezing air of the outside world. Mist and

clouds still obscured the sun, but I was glad to see open sky, however briefly, and the snow-
draped mountains still had plenty of power to awe, before another mountain about a pardec away,
swallowed us up. Jeyle explained underground tunnels connected the two centres, but it was
simply faster and more pleasant to fly everyone across. Since they had plenty of telekinetics,
there was no reason not to use their ability—not when airships never approached these
mountains, and no Pindoni satellites could track something as small and fleeting as humans
flying between the peaks.

She introduced me to three people—two of them, to my surprise, Febkeinzes, both only a

little older than me. Uliem was a TK, as was his wife, Wizinaera. Febkeinzian was constantly
enmeshed in civil war, and refugees from our poor and unstable neighbouring country
periodically flooded into our larger cities, but I’d hardly expected any to have found a haven
here. I looked to Jeyle for an explanation.

“The Febkeinze paranormals have suffered nearly as much—partly as a result of the war,

partly as a result of suspicion the Pindonis have whipped up among the security forces there.
We’ve managed to rescue nearly twenty major talents over the last two decades.”

Uliem pressed his slim, brown-skinned hands together and bowed. “Sadly, Arwe Jodi, many

of our colleagues have been caught up in the wars there. We have no way of knowing where most
of them are. We work with our Pindoni friends to do what we can to locate them.”

“We’ve had more luck with Febkeinzes than our own people,” Jeyle added, grimacing. “At

least they don’t use naksen, at least not as far as we know. Come on, the others are waiting.”

I also met another empath, Noora, a tall woman who had to be in her sixties, a serene smile

on her ascetic features. She and Hermi embraced like friends who’d not seen each other for years,
but that couldn’t be right.

Noora and Hermi kinda feed each other, Kir explained as we trailed after Jeyle and the

others. We spread the empaths out because they keep the groups healthy, but if they had their
preference, they’d be together. If a week goes by and they don’t see each other, Hermi gets a bit
crabby. Prison did bad things to both of them, and being around all us damaged ones, hurts them
a lot.

Keep the groups healthy?
They’re like our hearts. The heart of the group. Ask him about it later.
Okay.
I didn’t know our side of the refuge well enough to make a comparison—the differences I

noted didn’t seem important. Kir had explained they divided food production, and those who
made clothes and shoes worked on this side simply because they had the space. Otherwise,
people lived where they felt most comfortable. After being freed from prison, the ability to make
such choices was central to the rebuilding of their lives and health. I hadn’t been offered many
choices yet, but I was happy with those that had been made for me. I wasn’t in any hurry to
change things.

I did notice that while Noora was as friendly to Kir as Hermi, the two Febkeinzes quite

obviously kept their distance.

They don’t like you? I asked as we walked along another narrow hall.
They don’t approve of me. They’re Feb-gailis, he said as if that explained everything.
And?
And...they don’t approve of me. What I done. Later, Jodi.
I swore I’d get to the end of this mystery before the day ended because it was driving me

nuts—the idea that people disapproved of Kir, and Kir being so irritatingly close-mouthed about
it.

And I know you’re listening.
I can’t help that, Jodi.

As we came to a door and entered a small meeting room, his sour expression suddenly

brightened as he saw the two people waiting for him. He rushed over and the tall, good-looking
male stranger took him into a warm—and rather intimate—embrace. Tongues were involved. I
tried not to let it bother me. This, I guessed, was at least one of the reasons for Kir’s skill in the
bedroom.

Kir turned, still grinning like a fool. “Wesejne, Kateju, this is Jodi.”
The slight, severe-faced woman bowed. I didn’t know the proper form to use in reply, so I

simply nodded. The man came over and also bowed.

“Brother Jodimai. Long have we prayed for your release, and your freedom has been greeted

with joy by the Elected.” He held out his hand. “I am Wesejne. This is Sister Kateju.”

“Uh, hi. Um, nice to meet you,” I said, shaking his hand and wondering if they were always

this formal. Kir gave me no clues.

“Everyone, come and sit,” Hermi said.
The room held no meeting table or chairs, only armchairs and a sofa, again arranged in an

obvious circle, around a long, low wooden table. A tray of cups and a large pot of jilaj—the
favourite Weadenisi beverage—sat ready for us to use, rich, sweet steam rising from the dark
liquid. The warm, golden lighting created a soothing ambience, but despite that, I found it hard to
relax around all these strangers with their unknown agendas.

Kir sat beside me on the sofa, Hermi and Jeyle beside him. It quickly became obvious

everyone here deferred to Wesejne and that he would run this meeting.

“Brother Jodimai, apart from our great relief at your escape, your particular case has been the

subject of much interest since Brother Kirvo alerted us to the mental block on your powers. I
understand you’re still finding your feet, but I believe it’s essential that we get to the bottom of
how this was done to you.”

“I’m more than happy to help, but I honestly know nothing at all.”
“That’s because your memory has been tampered with, and over a very long period of time.

Brother Kirvo, please summarise for Brother Jodimai, the sequence of events once you became
aware of the block.”

“Wait.” I frowned at Kir. “I thought you’d met me for the first time in that bar?”
“No,” he said, shifting a little. “It’s a bit more complicated than that. Jodi, don’t give me that

look.”

I clenched my jaw, hearing the echo of Ganwe saying that to me on more than one occasion.
I ain’t him. Stop glaring at me!
“Go on,” I said through gritted teeth. “This should be fascinating.” Jeyle frowned at me. I

ignored her.

With a less than patient air, Wesejne continued. “Brother Jodimai, Brother Kirvo did nothing

that he was not ordered to do. His actions were all sanctioned by your people here, and by the

Elected in the Weadenal. He doesn’t deserve censure.” The man had a nice long nose to look
down at people with, and he used it now.

“I said, go on.” I’d decide later if any censure was needed. I didn’t like this guy, and I didn’t

much care if he knew it. Who the ‘Elected’ were, I had no idea. Something else I hadn’t been
told.

Kir didn’t look at me as he spoke. “I was on a recon in Vizinken, checking out some of the

researchers working for the Nats. Jodi, you weren’t anything special—just one of the people we
planned to check out. But while I was scanning you, I realised there was something weird going
on with your memories. You had....” He glanced at Wesejne who nodded. “There’s a mental trick
telepaths—some telepaths—can do, which doesn’t just erase memories, it replaces them. Unless
you’re trained like me, a telepath wouldn’t pick it up, and I only picked it up cos I was paying
you some attention.”

“Replacing memories? Of what?”
“I didn’t know. I spent a bit of time picking at the block, but no go. I reported back to people

here, and they told me to keep working on you. So I, uh...kept arranging to run across you,
working on the block a bit more each time.”

I held up my hand to interrupt him. “Wait… How many times, exactly?”
“Uh. Seven?”
I glared. “And you screwed with my memory each time?”
“I had to! You worked for the Nats! If they picked me out of your head, everyone here would

have been at risk.”

“And tell me, Brother Kirvo,” I asked, grinding my teeth, “did we have sex on any of those

seven occasions?” He nodded, looking down at his hands. “I see.”

Kateju attempted to explain. “Sex is a way of—”
I didn’t want to hear any more. I stood and walked out, slamming my hand against the rock

wall outside and not caring that I’d bruised my hand. I wanted to throw up. I had no idea where I
could do that. I needed to get out of here....

“Jodi—”
I whirled. “You raped me. Raped my mind and my body.”
Kir stepped back, waving his hands frantically in denial of my words. “No!”
“Yes! You used me. You manipulated me, stole my memories, had sex with me. What else

did you do for your friends here? Did you call the defs that night? Are you the reason I ended up
in prison? Was I just some bloody tool to use and throw away? How much have you done to me,
Kir? How many tricks did you pull to get me into bed with you?”

“I didn’t! I just...lowered your distrust a little. Not much—you wanted it.”
“But you can say anything, and I’ve got nothing to argue against it, because you took away

my memories! Damn it, I thought there was something wrong about all this and now I know. Is

this what you do, Kir? Play with people’s minds? Play with their memories so they don’t
remember what you’re doing? Use them?”

He clenched his fists and turned away from me. I didn’t care what he did, so long as he did it

away from me. I walked off down the rocky corridor and quickly got lost, ending up on a set of
narrow wooden stairs that led who knew where.

I shook so hard I could hardly breathe. I put my head between my knees and tried not to

throw up. What had he done? Being with him had been so easy—too easy—and every time I’d
been suspicious, my doubts had mysteriously disappeared. I was such a bloody idiot. I should
have known it was too good to be true.

I sat undisturbed for a long time. I didn’t know what to do now. I felt so unsafe, so frightened

of being around these people when they could harbour such a monster. Encourage such a
monster, in fact. He’d used me, with their blessing. I wanted to go...home, I guessed. I had no
home. But this place was worse than prison because I had no idea what the hell was going on.

I heard footsteps, but before I could look to see who it was, I found myself flying through the

air and hurled against the rock wall, all the breath knocked out of my body. Jeyle stalked up to
me, her face a mask of loathing, her hands extended as if she wished they were wrapped around
my neck—they may as well have been for all the air I could pull in.

“I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate you,” she spat. “You little shit!”
Invisible bands crushed my burning chest, and my vision dimmed. I was dying, and maybe I

didn’t care too much that I was.

But then I dropped abruptly to the floor. I gasped and heaved, dragging air back into empty,

tortured lungs. Jeyle and Hermi were arguing, him pleading with her to calm down. I was too
busy trying to breathe to listen to the specifics—something about how he couldn’t let her kill me,
but she didn’t understand why not.

“Look at me, Jodi.” I blinked up through watering eyes at Jeyle’s furious features. Hermi

stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to him?”

“What I did to him?” I coughed, incredulous at the unfairness.
“Yes. You call him a rapist? Do you have any idea how many times he really was raped in

prison?” I looked away. The two things didn’t negate each other. “You little shit—do you know
how hard he worked to get you out? He wouldn’t rest, would barely sleep until he found you.
Nothing in his life was as important as getting you free. And this, this is how you repay him.”
She actually spat at me, spat at my feet. “You make me sick.”

“He forced me to have sex with him.”
“He did no such thing. You didn’t even ask, did you? You made assumptions, screamed at

him, accused him of a filthy crime, when you don’t know the full story—”

“Because you’re hiding everything from me! You’ve lied, he’s lied, I’m supposed to trust

you and all this time I’ve been manipulated and manoeuvred and...you make me sick too, Jeyle.

All of you. Just leave me the hell alone.”

She hissed in a breath, and I felt sure she’d lay into me again, but then Hermi muttered

something to her and with an angry snort, she stomped away down the corridor.

I coughed and rubbed my aching chest. It felt like someone had been whacking it with a

hammer.

“Jodi, are you all right? I'm so sorry about that. She shouldn’t—”
“I don’t want to talk to you, Hermi. You’re as bad as the rest of them.”
“Yes, that’s quite true. May I sit?”
I turned my face away from him, not wanting to look at him and be fooled by his so innocent

expression. “Touch me, do anything to change my feelings, and I’ll hurt you.”

“I only want to talk, Jodi. I love Kir as my son, but I know you suffer too.”
I didn’t answer. Anything I could do in this situation played into their hands. People

surrounded me who could make me think what they wanted, feel what they wanted. They altered
perceptions of reality as easily as breathing. For all I knew, I lay dying in a cage. They could
make me believe anything.

He said nothing, but I heard him shuffle and ease his portly body down onto the ground with

a soft groan.

“He’s been in agonies, wondering how much to tell you, and when. He knew you’d take it

badly, but he didn’t think it would be this badly. Rather, he hoped you wouldn’t.”

“You honestly think that this could ever be good news?”
“I know, I know...but you and he seemed to be reaching an understanding. He didn’t want to

damage that, and we didn’t want to damage you. He wanted to build something with you,
something clean, before he burdened you with the past. We tried to advise him, but no one of us
knew what would be best, since he was the only one who knew you well. For months as he kept
you under surveillance, his feelings for you became very strong, even though he knew—we knew
—it was hopeless. You surely have seen how much he cares for you.”

It was Ajeile all over again. Except...I did know Kir’s feelings were involved. Or had seemed

to be. As had mine, or they’d started to be. But how could I trust what I felt or thought? How
much was normal attraction, how much manipulation?

“I don’t know what to believe any more. I thought...I thought it was completely natural, how

this started. Now I don’t know what’s going on. You should have told me. He should have.”

He put his hand on my arm and I flinched, but he didn’t withdraw. I couldn’t detect any

attempt to use his talent. “You’re right to be angry and hurt. We’ve handled this badly.”

“You really have. Jeyle has no right—”
“No. That was quite wrong of her, what she said and what she did. But then she’s as

damaged as the rest of us. To us, rape is...what we endured in prison. What Kir endured as a
child.”

“I was raped in prison too. Only difference with me is that someone I...I like...liked...did it to

me as well. Who do I turn to now? Who do I trust?”

“I would hope...in time...you could trust us.”
“Not a hope in hell, Hermi.”
“I can’t blame you for that, but what alternative do you have?”
I glared at him. “Would you stop me leaving?”
“My dear boy, where could you go?”
“Tsikeni? Leave the country, go to Darsino? Dindornes, even. Surely....”
He shook his head. “Tsikeni isn’t that liberal that we can find safety there. The Darsinis are

Pindone’s allies, and you’d never make it to Dindornes. Not on your own.”

I gritted my teeth. “Prison would be better than this. At least I knew who the enemy was.”
“We’re not your enemy. Kir isn’t, I swear to you. Blame us, blame me, but he did our

bidding because he’s trying to help us. He’s a soldier, following distasteful orders. He’s been
brave enough to do what others of us are too frightened to attempt, and for that, some have
censured him. He’s even killed for us, to my great sorrow—but in doing so, he’s saved many
lives. He does terrible things to keep us safe. Some of us are so nice as to judge him for that. I say
to them, he’s given you the luxury of being here to despise him.”

“The hair thing is to do with that.” I should have realised it sooner. I remembered reading

about it now—cutting one’s hair had been a Dar-sen custom, to show grief or ostracism. And
these people imitated them in so many ways, or tried to.

He nodded, grey eyes solemn. “Yes. There was a disgraceful scene and some thought he

didn’t have the right to call himself a Spiritist or to be part of this group. So he cut off his braid
and refused to grow it again.

“Charming people you have here.”
He nodded again, mouth turned down sadly. “We’re deeply flawed, I acknowledge that, and

our actions are reprehensible. We’re the ones at fault. He’s not to blame.”

“Did you force him to do what he did to me?” Hermi’s silence was my answer. “Then he

shares the blame.”

“Jodi, what you feel is quite justified. The harm’s been done, and you’ve been hurt by us. By

me, by decisions I was part of. But...can you not try to forgive? Our intentions were pure—
you’ve seen what we’re rescuing people from, how large and powerful the enemy is.”

“Do you know how much evil’s been done in the name of ‘I only wanted to help’? Even I....”

I clenched my fist, thinking of Neim. “Where is he?”

“In Ferige’s workshop, but please...he has no armour against you. You feel deeply wronged,

with good cause, but...he’s been through so much. Please, Jodi.”

I drew in a breath and held it to calm myself down. “I just want to talk,” I said, trying to

unclench my teeth. “You and your creepy friends will have to wait until I have a chance to do

that.”

“Of course. Help me up, could you? I’m too old and fat to be sitting on stone floors.”
I did so with difficulty—he really wasn’t good at sitting on floors. His knees clicked as I got

him upright. “The workshop?”

“Down there, first right. Please, just—”
“You don’t have the right to ask favours of me.” Yet his eyes still mutely pleaded. “I’ll do

my best.”

“Thank you. And...I'm sorry.”
There was no point in repeating my complaint, so I only nodded. Holding my bruised back, I

walked stiffly in the direction of Kir’s friend’s workshop and hoped I wouldn’t encounter any
more angry telekinetics on the way.

He was alone, working in the corner, planing a piece of dark wood down with slow,

concentrated movements, red curls of shavings surrounding his feet. I wondered if he was making
something or whether he only sought the action itself. He looked like shit. If he hadn’t been
crying it had been a close thing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, standing in the doorway.
“I didn’t know how. I guess I hoped you’d never find out.”
“How were you going to keep something like that from me? Kir, you forced me to sleep with

you as certainly as if you’d put a gun to my head.”

He stared up at me, his expression dead. “I never made you sleep with me. I didn’t have to,

and I didn’t want to.”

“I wouldn’t have slept with you if you hadn’t fucked with my mind.”
“You were looking for sex each and every time, Jodi. All I did was help you have it with me.

You wanted me. I didn’t make that happen.”

“The problem is that I can’t dispute that because I can’t bloody well remember, can I?”
He set his tools down and hugged himself. “I ain’t lying.”
“How do I know?”
“You don’t. But you’re so caught up in what I done to you, and don’t even care why. Guess

you think I like doing this kind of shit to people. I love being a rapist for these guys. Makes me
feel all glowy inside. ‘Specially seeing how they order it and then hate me for it.”

I stepped closer. “Why do you let them? What could possibly justify this, Kir? I'm not Pregar

Noret. I'm not a criminal, a villain. All I wanted to do was help paranormals. Why...why treat me
like that?”

“I never planned...see, I have to do it all the time. A lot of the guys we’re trying to track,

keep on top of, have shields. I can’t read their thoughts. Sex is one time that the shields are
weaker, so I get them into bed, read their minds, then make them forget. We have to. Noret’s got
telepaths.”

“But why me? Why track me?”
“Because of your research. I wasn’t looking for you that night though. I followed someone

into a medical conference, and found you by accident. Your team was on our list, but not
actively, if you see what I mean. Just there as a possible. Since you were right there, I figured I
could find out what I could from you, but when I started to read your mind, I realised someone
had been playing with it. And you didn’t know. I knew right off this wasn’t something Noret’s
guys could do—hardly any Pindoni telepaths could—so I needed to find out more.”

“You tricked me into bed.”
“You wanted me before I did a thing to you. You wanted me after you got out of prison and I

didn’t have to do a thing there neither.”

I walked to the far side of the room and stood against the wall. I wanted to sit, but I didn’t

want to be so vulnerable. “I can’t trust my instincts, my memories, even trust my trust. I want
you, but what if that’s you making me think that?”

“I ain’t.” I kept looking at him and he slumped. “It’s the same for everyone and me. Am I

fucking with their heads or not?”

“Surely you can see that by doing what you have, I haven’t any reason to believe you. Do

you actually want me or is this another one of Hermi’s games?”

He raised his head to glare furiously at me. “Hermi’s nothing to do with it! He hates all this.

He takes the blame, but it ain’t him most of the time. I told him how I felt about you. I’d got to
know you, and you were like...so clean and bright after some of the people I’d had to fuck, your
mind felt so good. I hoped one day maybe.... He told me it would be real hard to make it work
with you, if you knew. I just...yeah, I wanted you. You wanted me too. It wasn’t a lie.”

I shook my head, trying to clear it. I had two realities in my brain, two images of Kir, two

images of Kir with me. One was so seductive, so much what I wanted. Him, brave, caring,
loving, and me caring a great deal for him, grateful for what he’d done to rescue me. The other
image was of a coldly manipulative agent, who’d thrown me to Noret’s thugs and the prison
system, brought my fate upon me for an agenda I had little sympathy with.

“The talent thing was an accident, I swear. I didn’t know what the block was on you for. I

freaked and ran. I could have done more, but I was afraid of being picked up, and then that’d put
the whole operation in danger. All I could do was a quick mindwipe on you and get out.”

“How big a price are these people prepared to pay for their happiness? A price others have to

pay? You do, I have...how many others, Kir? Why do you let them do it to you?”

“I got no one else,” he said quietly. “Hermi and Jeyle are my family. All I got now. They

saved my life. I’d have nothing if it wasn’t for them and Wesejne and the other Weadenisis. I
owe them, big time.”

“They ask too much. And you go too far.”
“I’ll go as far as I have to. What do you want, Jodi?”

“An apology would be nice.”
“Would you believe it? I'm sorry as hell, I swear I am, but I'm reading your mind. You don’t

believe a word that comes out of my mouth, so what’s the point?”

“Not much. Kir...I...I’d do anything to turn back time to this morning and not know any of

this.”

He laid his tools down. “Me too. I was kind of getting used to being happy.”
“I didn’t want this for you. You’re a victim too. We can’t fix this, can we? Even if I could

forgive you—”

“You’d never trust me. I don’t blame you for that none. It’s just a thing.”
We stared mutely at each other. I could have loved him so very easily, and now that was all

destroyed. I mourned that harder than I did the loss of my blissful ignorance.

“We should go back,” he said finally. “Wesejne’s pissed.”
“I grieve deeply.”
“Well, yeah. But we need him, and you need us, even if you hate our guts. Don’t poke him,

Jodi, I'm warning you.”

~~~

Jeyle had gone, and so had Noora and the two Febkeinzes. Hermi was waiting, his

expression rather grim, and Wesejne looked at me like I was a turd someone had trodden into his
best floor rug. As Kir and I sat down, the woman—a telepath, I presumed—tried to drill me into
a wall with the force of her glare.

“Arwe Jodimai, are you ready to continue or should we delay this until tomorrow?” Wesejne

asked, his voice icily formal. Apparently I was no longer his ‘brother’.

My tone and my frigid expression was a match for his. “Let’s move on.”
He dismissed me from his attention as he turned to Kir. “Brother Kirvo? How do you think

we should approach this?”

Kir cleared his throat. “I need to dig through Jodi’s early memories, around the time he’d

normally manifest—five, six. Jodi, I need Kateju and Wesejne to watch too because they might
spot something I don’t.” He flinched a little at my instinctive revulsion. “See, I know you don’t
like the idea, but it’s the only way to do it.”

“Do what you need to. It can hardly be worse than what’s already been done.”
That made Wesejne scowl even more. I stared back coolly back at him. I didn’t care what his

relationship was with Kir. I had been violated, probably at his instigation. I owed him not a damn
thing.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Kir muttered. “The other thing is that you’ve got two sets of memories

—one real, one implanted. It might get a little freaky when we get to the real ones because you’re
not familiar with them. You have to believe that it ain’t me putting them in there, okay?”

“I’ll do my best. No promises.”

He nodded, unsmiling. “Okay. Hermi, you should do your thing, keep everyone calm and

together. Don’t know if I can handle any more freaking out today.”

Knock it off.
It wasn’t a dig at you, Jodi.
Jeyle’s not here. Who else are you poking at?
He sighed. No one. I can’t do this while you’re crapping at me.
Do you think I might have more than half an hour to get used to all this shit dumped on me?

I'm trying, Kir. Stop pushing.

Okay.
I hated that beaten down look in his eyes, but I had to remind myself, I was the wronged

party. The problem with trying to remember that was, he’d been wronged too. Just not by me.

With ill-concealed impatience and thinned lips, Wesejne waited for us to give him our full

attention.

“We should get on,” I said, and Kir nodded. I didn’t think I imagined Hermi bracing himself.

This wouldn’t be much fun for any of us.

“Jodi, it’s easiest to remember stuff right if I throw you back into it, okay? It’s more vivid.”
“Whatever you need to do.”
He nodded again, and frowned, as did the Weadenisis. Suddenly my mind filled with images

of things, places I’d long forgotten—my kindergarten, my first teacher. The smells of chalk and
glue and the dust of the playground, the sounds of a dozen tuneless children shouting our way
through the national anthem at assembly. My best friend in my first year of school, a girl I
literally had not thought of in more than twenty years. Crying over a dead bird I’d found in the
garden, and Mam scolding me for bringing it into the house. Da digging a hole for a tree, and me
carrying a bucket of water for him in the scorching summer’s heat. Visiting my grandparents and
watching Granmam hand feeding a baby barchin. Nothing to indicate I was a pyrokinetic.

But then I was back at school again, being inspected by the school medics as all the children

were. They took me to a quiet side-room and put me through a series of tests....

Who were ‘they’?
“Wait!” I opened my eyes. “I don’t remember that.”
“That’s cos it’s one of the hidden images. They hid it under the barchin memory,” Kir said.

“Hold on.”

Someone gripped my hand, but I didn’t know who because I had already plunged back into

childhood, to a clinic visit I had never recalled before. And a tall man with thick dark hair, and
strange, bicoloured eyes....

I yanked my hand free. “Kregan!” I gasped. “He was there too!”
“Jodi’s old boss,” Kir clarified to the Weadenisis. “Who’s the doctor?”
“That was Arwe Nidinwe. But I didn’t meet him until I went to his school on a scholarship

when I was eight.”

“It appears you met him somewhat sooner,” Wesejne said. “And either he or someone

connected to him, obscured your memories of that earlier meeting. Brother, please continue.”

It took a long time, and I had to keep stopping for a break, because suddenly remembering

medical examinations and tests and people who’d not been in my brain before now, disoriented
and frightened me not a little.

Finally I pulled away from everyone.
“Please, I have to stop.” I had a horrendous headache and my heart pounded. If they

continued, I’d pass out or vomit.

“For now, we have enough to begin our investigations,” Wesejne said, then he waved a

careless hand at me. “You may go, Arwe Jodimai. We have things to discuss with Brother
Kirvo.”

Well that wasn’t rude at all.
Shaky and angry, I stalked out, ignoring Kir’s mental call. Who did Wesejne think he was?

Grand champion in the ‘Being a bastard to people you barely know’ stakes, for sure.

I found Uliem hovering, almost certainly at Kir’s suggestion, not far from the meeting room.
“Arwe Jodi, please, come with me. You will need something to eat and drink.” He plucked at

my sleeve. “My wife has made some tea, from Febkeinzian. You will like it.”

Sounded more like a command than anything, but the man was being courteous in the formal

way many of his people had, even the very poorest, so I followed him back out to the living area,
deserted by everyone but his wife.

“Where’s Jeyle?”
“Ah, she is...Noora is with her. She asked if we would convey you back to the other side,

when you have rested. Please, have some tea. And would you like to try hvani? Wizinaera makes
excellent hvani.”

‘Hvani’ were small, spiced biscuits that took some of the taste of the bloody horrible tea

away. I smiled and tried not to puke. The flavour was a little like water strained through ground
up three-day-dead rodents, only not so pleasant. Uliem’s expression as he sipped it was close to
orgasmic.

“Very good,” I lied, and the woman smiled at me. I’d not yet heard her say a word—perhaps

she didn’t speak our language. “How long have you been here?”

“Longer than the Pindonis. We arrived six months before they were freed. Indeed, we helped

to free them. A small repayment of much generous hospitality and kindness, and of course they
are doing much to help our friends.”

“But you don’t like all the help you get, do you?”
Uliem frowned and set his stinky cup of tea down. “I have no idea what you’re referring to,

Jodi.”

“Kir. Having to kill to keep you safe. You don’t like it. He said it’s religious.”
“Our religion objects to his sexual proclivities and behaviour, Jodi,” he said, pursing his lips.

“Not only is he promiscuous, he is also homosexual. Such a man is not pious.”

Damn it, not another one. Of all the things I’d expected him to say, this wasn’t on the list. I

stood up. “Where’s Jeyle, did you say?”

He stiffened with offence. “You disapprove of our views, Arwe Jodi. Do you always judge

before you know the facts?”

“I’m not the one doing the judging. Could you tell me where she is? Oh, never mind.” Kir?

Please, where’s Jeyle? I don’t care if she wants to murder me but I can’t stomach these people.
Or their bloody tea.

Wait. We’re coming out.
The two Febkeinzes, clearly highly offended by my behaviour, took the food and teapot in

the kitchen, and then talked quietly between themselves in their own language, undoubtedly
commiserating with each other about having to deal with such an uncouth creature.

I ignored them, and went over to sit in one of the armchairs. I never expected that Kir’s

sexuality—or mine—would be censured here. Hadn’t Jeyle said there were a lot of ‘perverts’
here?

The sensation of being trapped threatened to overwhelm me. It would make my morning

complete if I had a panic attack on top of everything else. I felt as bad as my first day in prison,
and nearly as confused.

Kir and Hermi came into the room, Jeyle behind them with Noora. She didn’t look at me, but

then she didn’t glare at me either. To my relief, the two Weadenisis weren’t with them.

Kir came over to me. “Wesejne and Kateju are going to contact their people and run some

checks on Kregan and that doctor, that school. They want a list of all the pupils you can
remember in your class, but if you can’t, we can probably hack their records. It’ll take a day or so
before they get anything.”

“You think Kregan’s involved in this?”
“I don’t have a clue, but I’ve had enough and so have you.”
Hermi turned towards the kitchen. “Uliem? We’ll see you at the greeting circle.” Uliem

waved, carefully avoiding looking at me.

“But they’re Feb-gailis, you said,” I muttered to Kir.
“Don’t matter. They pray to their gods and still believe in the spirits. Don’t bother me none

what they do.” His eyes showed his exhaustion. “Come on.”

Hermi and Noora embraced, and then Noora took my hand and smiled goodbye. Jeyle

walked ahead of us and ignored me, continuing to do so as we flew back to the other side of the
refuge. As soon as we landed and went down in the elevator, she took Kir’s arm and told Hermi
to come along with them, leaving me on my own. The message was clear. They didn’t really give

a damn what I did so long as it wasn’t around them.

My headache had grown worse. I had nothing I could take for it, and the only person who

would have helped, had just been rescued by his ‘parents’. So I went off to Dede’s clinic,
expecting a lecture, but at least I knew she didn’t hate me or Kir for being a deev.

Dede knew what had happened, of course—it took her all of three seconds to read my mind.

“Oh...Jodi.”

“You could have told me. You should have. You’re my doctor.”
“I'm also Kir’s. Take your shirt off. Let me see what she did.”
Her touch was gentle as she checked my pupils and blood pressure, probed my bruised back

and hand, but I wished there was some way I could have some privacy from all these damn
telepaths. It was worse than walking around naked.

“Telepathy’s a curse as much as a talent,” she said from behind me. “Believe me, I don’t

want to know your thoughts right now.”

I jerked away from her and took my shirt. “Is that all you people care about? How

uncomfortable I might make you? How much poor Kir would suffer if he told me the truth?”

“Jodi, sit. I'm not your enemy.”
“People keep saying that. How am I supposed to believe it?”
She spread her hands helplessly. “Because the alternative is a permanent state of paranoia,

and you’ll be unable to distinguish reality from fantasy at all. Let me give you something for the
pain. The bruising’s not too bad, and you haven’t broken anything.”

“You mean Jeyle didn’t. Oh, of course, she’s a friend and I'm an unwanted nuisance.”
She gave me a disgusted look. “Do you plan to alienate everyone in the refuge today?” she

said as she went over to her drugs cabinet.

“Sorry. I don’t feel very lovable right now.”
“I don’t need to love a patient to look after them. Mind your manners or you’ll end up with

one less sympathiser.”

“You surely take his side.”
She gave me two painkillers and some water and waited for me to take them before she

answered. “I don’t see you and him as being on opposite sides at all. I know how he feels about
you, and I know how you would feel about him, given half a chance. This has been badly
mishandled, and Jeyle’s being unfair, but I understand why she’s reacted like this. Kir’s had to
put up with so much shit, it’s unbelievable. If we weren’t all so closely tied together and didn't
need to work with each other, I’d have insisted those of us who didn’t think he was unspeakable,
went to another hideout altogether.”

I gave her back the glass, and she put it in her little autoclave.
“The Febkeinzes, I almost get because religious bigots don’t surprise me any more, but you

lot? What’s wrong with you? I don’t know why you put him through this. With his

background...why turn him into a rapist, the very thing he loathes?”

She winced at the word. “You’re quite right. It is rape. It’s just...I suppose we all suffered so

much abuse in prison that what Kir does...doesn’t seem so bad. Can you at least understand that?
We’ve had to compromise so much, lost so much, we can only hang onto such shreds of comfort
as we can.”

“You’re no different from the government if you argue that. Doing the unspeakable in the

name of good.”

“You should know.”
I yanked my shirt back on, angry again. “All my patients signed consent forms. They knew

what they were getting into.”

“Consent where there’s no real choice, is no consent.” She held up her hand as I drew breath

to yell. “I understand your point. I'm only saying that when one is in an abnormal situation, it’s
easy to lose sight of the real ethics. I think of all of us, Kir is probably the only one who never
has. Yet he does it anyway because he knows it’s important.”

“So why don’t you do it? You’re a telepath, and a woman would have more chance of

success in this kind of work.”

She stared at the ground. “There are reasons why I can’t. Kir’s stronger than me. We abuse

that. I can’t excuse it. I can’t change it either.”

“So that’s it. I accept Kir raped me for reasons people considered sufficient at the time,

leaving him and me both screwed up, and I'm supposed to go on as if nothing’s happened.”

She looked me in the eye. “What you do is up to you.”
“I can hardly leave.”
“You could...possibly. Your memory would have to be erased. You know too much.”
“Another mindrape.”
“If you see it that way. You think we have so many choices? You think we aren’t all coping

with trauma? Jeyle’s husband divorced her while she was in prison and went off with his
mistress, taking their children with him. Hermi’s lost access to his daughters and wife. I’ve
lost...many things. We’ve been raped, tortured, abused for so many years. We can either sit on the
ground and refuse to do anything because of the burden of our many sorrows, or we can get up,
go on and fight.”

“But you weren’t raped by one of your own.”
Hesitantly, she laid her hand on my arm. “Only you can make your peace with Kir over that.

Normally it’s the last thing I’d tell a rape victim to do but these aren’t normal circumstances.”

“And if I don’t, then I'm on the outer.”
“Not with me, not with Hermi. Not even with Kir. Jeyle may not forgive you, but she’s a

mother defending her chick. As for the rest of them....” Her lip curled in a sneer. “Hating Kir
would probably make you a champion.”

“That’s unfair. It’s immoral.”
She sighed. “Since at least as far back as our earliest records, paranormals have shared a

common ethical standard, an understanding of how we have to behave if normals aren’t going to
kill us out of hand. We don’t use our powers to kill. Oh, we can kill. We’ve been soldiers. But we
don’t use our talents. Kir’s done that, and the others are revolted.”

“But if he had to kill for good reason, why not use his talent? A weapon would put him at

risk, and he’s not the first paranormal to do this, surely.”

“No, he’s not, and others have done so with far less reason. But the taboo runs deep and isn’t

lightly overturned. Kir didn’t do so lightly, but he’ll always put the protection of the innocent
above any other considerations and well above his own happiness.”

“And this cuts no ice with these people?”
She pursed her lips. “They believe there’s always another way. I don’t really know what they

expect Kir to do. I don’t see any of them volunteering to take his place. He’s had special training,
certainly, but others could do so.”

“His hands—the tattoos were removed by the Weadenisis?”
“Yes. Their covert tactics are much more advanced than anything we have, and they

mastered the safe removal of paranormal tattoos even before the terrors. But people here are
proud. They don’t want to think of themselves as spies. They want to cling to their professional
status, their high moral principles, and let Kir be—”

“The garbage man?”
She nodded. “They’ve made their choices concerning him. Now, so can you. Censure or

forgive. Only you know which will heal you most.”

“His power—your power—terrifies me.”
“Yes. And if it stopped terrifying you, you’d immediately suspect one of us of manipulating

you. Take your time, Jodi. Think about it. Talk to him and talk to me. Kir’s worth the effort to
understand. He’s not evil.”

“He’s lucky to have you as a friend.”
“You have me as a friend too, dear. Now, how’s your head?”
I paused and listened to my body’s messages. “Better. I feel wrung out.”
“Then maybe a nap after lunch, and then a good hour or two in the daylight room. Weren’t

you and Ronwe supposed to be practising your talent at some point?”

I’d completely forgotten. “Does it matter?”
“Yes. It does. So do it. Go on, and try not to fret about this.”
“I don’t have anything else to do but fret. Have you nothing I could work on in here?”
“Yes, I do, but not today. Your thoughts are too disordered and you’re distracting me. Shoo.”
I really needed some damn shields.

~~~

I did as she said, ate, rested, and sat under the bright, warm daylight lamps. Physically, I felt

better. Mentally, I was a wreck. I wavered between anger and paranoia, self-loathing and loathing
of the other people here. I was in prison still—a comfortable, well-furnished prison, but still a
trap. Being with Kir had masked this fact. Now I had no allies, and I was ready for exploitation
by another Ganwe. They were surely too fastidious to demand blowjobs—but then they’d happily
asked Kir to whore around for them, so maybe they weren’t.

My mood lifted a little when later that afternoon Ronwe and his lover took me outside, away

from the mountain and along the Gulkami range, near Mount Kizwha, a small active volcano.
They explained that they used the volcanoes to hide their heat signatures.

“Not that the Pindoni satellite system is that sophisticated, not officially, but we can’t take

the risk,” Lonin explained. He’d once been an electronics engineer, Weadenisi-trained, and had
worked on the first satellite systems. “Since relations broke down with the Weadenisis, the
Pindoni surveillance apparatus took a bad knock. We were leasing space on their satellites.
Putting our own up took a lot of time and skills we didn’t have. Of course, we don’t know
everything the government is doing now. I wouldn’t mind betting our surveillance is at least as
sophisticated as theirs—we’ve got access to the Weadenisi data, you see.”

Hovering in midair over a pristine, endless snowfield, great plumes of steam and smoke

rising a couple of pardecs ahead of us, and surrounded by vast, dark and white clad mountains, I
listened with only half an ear to his burbling. All this talk of surveillance and spying brought
back unhappy memories, and I didn’t completely approve of what they did with the information
they received. But Lonin found it fascinating, so I pretended I did too. I’d made enough enemies
that day. And being outside, however frigid the air, lifted some of the ever-present oppressiveness
from my heart. I amused myself watching the clouds of vapour coming out of Lonin’s mouth, and
wondering if he talked this much in bed.

Finally Ronwe interrupted Lonin’s long and technical explanations. “Right. Jodi, make a

fireball about the size of Lonin’s arse.”

I gave Ronwe a baleful look as his lover smacked him.
“Do I need to take my gloves off?”
“Only if you want to.” He pointed at a spot a few midecs away from the aforementioned

backside. “Just...imagine it. Then want it.”

Kir’s words came back to me, and I remembered the feeling....
A ball of fire about three midecs wide appeared with a slight pop and floated steady as a rock

right next to Lonin’s butt. A jolt of pleasure rippled through me, much more powerful than what
I’d experienced last night, and I gasped at the almost orgasmic sensation. I put a little more power
into the flames, and the pleasure ramped up, my balls tightening almost as if I was about to come,
but without the frantic need to do so. I swallowed and thanked fortune neither of my companions
could read my mind.

Ronwe crooned with delight. “Yes! Perfect...no, don’t lose control.” I’d let it drift down a

little in my distraction over my physical reaction. “You’re the master, not the fire.”

“Mmmm, toasty,” Lonin said, holding his hands out to the miraculous flames.
“Get back, dear, he’s about to make it bigger. Go for it, Jodi.”
I could, I realised, very quickly grow addicted to this power. Every time I used the

pyrokinesis for anything bigger than a candle flame, it stroked my pleasure centres—the bigger
the flame, the bigger the rush, the more intense the thrill up my spine and into my cock. No
wonder Ronwe had fallen in love with his volcano. I wanted to ask him if it was the same for
him, but I didn’t dare. Not today, at least.

“You’re a natural,” Ronwe finally declared. “Now remember—you can shape any flame as

easily as the stuff you produce. It works exactly the same.”

“Can you show me how to make a weapon?”
“What?” Lonin floated in front of me, his green eyes frowning.
“I want to know how to use my power to defend this place if I have to. I want to be able to

control it without having to think. I want not to be useless, Lonin.”

Ronwe patted his lover’s arm soothingly. “It’s okay, Loni. He’s got a point. It’s not like we

don’t all have potentially lethal abilities.”

“Except Hermi.”
Ronwe gave me a funny look and I wondered what else the government hadn’t told us about

empaths. “Pay attention, Jodi. I’m going to show you how to make a thermal lance, PK style.”

If I thought making fireballs was fun, melting rocks felt like being a god. I terrified myself—

what must the early peoples have felt, seeing one of their kind produce this kind of power? How
frightened had they been? And the Pindone government were worried about PKs who could just
about light candles with their talent? I felt like going to Vizinken and cutting Parliament House in
half, to show them I could.

And then five minutes later, I’d be electrocuted, shot, and most likely bombed. No, not very

sensible. But tempting.

I said as much to Ronwe. “Yeah, it is. PKs have always had it the worst—TPs creep people

out, but we flat out scare them to death. Even when we were legal, we had to keep things quiet.
Of course, it would be utterly unethical to use our powers to kill, so we’ve tended to avoid being
used by governments when we could. Hasn’t always worked.”

“Are we unstoppable then?”
“Hardly,” Lonin answered tartly. “Watch. Throw a fireball at me.” I did and he deflected it

without moving a muscle, sending it skittering off into the air until I made it vanish. “Something
harder, now.”

Throwing fire at a real living person scared me more than the rock melting had, but Lonin

was equal to anything I sent at him, even when Ronwe joined in. We spent nearly an hour

duelling and messing around, until Ronwe put his hand to his ear and then held up his hand.

“Guys, we’ve got to go back. They need Jodi again.”
What now, I wondered.
Re-entering the refuge’s stony prison felt harder than it should have been. I wondered if I

could somehow move to a less oppressive hideout. One less populated by people with whom I
apparently had so little in common.

To my surprise, Kir came to collect me from the elevator. He searched my eyes, seeming to

want to know how I was.

You ain’t gonna like what we found, Jodi.
They’re fast, aren’t they?
The information wasn’t that hard to find, once we knew what we were looking for. Come

with me.

Jeyle still after my head?
He managed a grin. Think a little lower down.
Ouch.
He started to walk on, but I touched his arm. I talked to Dede. She argues very prettily that I

should try to move past my anger for my own sake as well as yours.

Can you?
I don’t know. I...don’t want to feel this way forever. I need time.
I figured.
I thought he’d be pleased I was prepared to make the effort to understand, but his reaction

was so muted, I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. After a moment or two, I moved on. This
wasn’t the time or place for this conversation.

We went to another smaller meeting room with a viewcom and printer set up in the corner.

Wesejne looked as pleased to see me as I felt to see him. His girlfriend wouldn’t meet my eyes at
all. Jeyle merely nodded at my arrival. Hermi smiled but not as warmly as before—maybe afraid
his lover would cut him off. Or something off, anyway.

“Okay, what’s the bad news?” I asked as I took my seat.
“Nidinwe hon Malin and Kregan hon Sersa are brothers,” Wesejne said.
I started in surprise. “But the names—”
“Their parents split up when the kids were little,” Kir said. “Kregan went with his Mam,

Nidinwe to his Da, and each took the name of the one with custody. Definitely a connection
between them, and Kregan with Nidinwe’s school.”

“So, that’s interesting but why is it significant?”
“The significance,” Wesejne said, “is that Kregan lived in the Weadenal from the age of six

until he was twenty, when he returned to Pindone. While he was in the Weadenal, his mother
became the intimate friend of a telepath who had once been part of the Elected but who had left

when our group suffered a political schism.”

“The Elected?” I looked at Hermi. “You know, if people would come right out and tell me

the stuff I needed to know, I wouldn’t have to ask so many stupid questions.”

“The Elected,” Hermi answered, “are paranormals who have similar beliefs to Spiritists, but

who differ from us in several key issues. They have, for many years, been able to promote the
welfare of paranormals, and in some cases, conceal them.”

“We’re the reason that the Weadenal is such an enlightened, benevolent place for our kind,”

Wesejne added, glaring at me.

“If you’re so benevolent, how come some of your people didn’t want to stay?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
I resisted making a rude gesture and turned back to Hermi to finish this tortuous explanation.
“The Elected and this schismatic group, all practice a highly sophisticated mental shielding.

Kir and Jeyle are the only ones of us here who’ve learned the technique.”

Kir broke in to explain more. “See, Jodi, to a telepath, most shields are like looking at a brick

wall. We can’t see through them, but we can’t not know they’re there. What me and Jeyle got is
like a pane of glass—only, it’s more like a painting of a window, because what people see ain’t
what’s actually going on in our heads. It’s camouflage. A telepath can look at me, never even
know I was a talent.”

Understanding dawned. “Kregan’s a paranormal.”
“Highly likely,” Hermi said. “Or he knows someone who is—perhaps his brother—and that

person’s the one using Weadenisi techniques to suppress and replace memories in people like
you.”

“In the school!”
“Yes,” Jeyle said suddenly. I jumped in shock when she spoke. “The perfect cover. And one

the Weadenisis use themselves. They also use secretly paranormal doctors to find such children
and retrieve them before they get into the official system. We’ve been doing the same thing here,
but on a smaller scale.”

“There’s a numeric discrepancy,” Hermi said. “Whatever you think about Spiritism and our

beliefs about spirits and talents, the fact is, the numbers of paranormals globally has always been
astonishingly constant, allowing for records being lost or not kept and so on. In Pindone, we’re
missing over a hundred major rank paranormals, given our population size and given the numbers
before the terrors started. We’re pretty sure we’ve accounted for all who’ve been arrested, jailed,
or recruited by Noret. We’re still short.”

“What if you’re not the only unknown paranormal, Jodi?” Kir asked.
I stared at them all. “Nidinwe’s school was a front? And my fellow students...were all

paras?”

“Probably not all of them,” Hermi said. “That’s why we need your help. How many of your

school friends are you still friendly with...sorry, before, you know...?”

“Uh. Three or four. I know where others are working, but we don’t maintain contact. Timo—

Paltimo hon Darmo—is one. He’s my best friend. I met him at the school and we went through
the Academy together. He’s two years older than me. Damn, and he’s infertile as well,” I said,
suddenly connecting it all in my mind. “He has the gene. We were tested when we registered for
sperm donation. But we can’t involve him in this, Kir. It’d ruin his life. He has a family.”

“Yeah, but he’s our best chance of finding out if you’re a one-off or part of a pattern. If I get

close to him, with you talking to him, I can see if he’s blocked.”

“No, I won’t allow it. He’ll be imprisoned. If you release the block like you did to me....” Kir

looked away guiltily. “I can’t, Kir.”

“There is no need to release any block, Arwe Jodimai.” I turned to Wesejne. “Brother Kirvo

is skilled enough to detect the presence and quality of any mental tampering.”

“But what about his family? And if he’s a paranormal, what will you do?”
“Nothing. We ain’t interested in him, only what’s been done to him.” I wouldn’t hurt him

any more than I’d hurt you, Jodi.

Not deliberately.
I know what I did wrong, okay?
Kateju decided she’d been quiet long enough. “Arwe Jodimai? Brother Kirvo doesn’t need

your permission. The only difference your cooperation will make is that his task will be
somewhat easier. This is too important for you to veto.”

I barely restrained myself from snarling. “Fine. Then I refuse to cooperate in your attempt to

ruin my friend’s life the way you ruined mine.”

I got up and walked out, fairly vibrating with fury, but Kir, running behind me, caught me up

a little further along the corridor. I clenched my fists and tried to hold in my anger as I turned to
him.

“I don’t blame you. But Timo has two little boys who need their father. I won’t help you

destroy that family.”

“I wouldn’t.”
“You’ll do what they say. You have to. This whole...den of luxury and indolence is paid for

by them, isn’t it? You have to dance to the Weadenisi tune or they pull the plug.”

“I owe them. A lot. But they don’t own me.”
“Wesejne is behaving like you’re his pet on a leash. Like all the Pindonis are only there to do

what he wants.”

“You have no idea what he’s done for me.”
“Yes, I do. They saved your sanity. Like you saved mine, by getting me out of prison. But

I’m still trapped here, and you’re still caught by them. Neither of us can do as we truly wish.” I
sighed and leaned against the wall. “And Kateju can hear everything we’re saying, can’t she?”

“No. I’m shielding us. Jodi,I wouldn’t hurt Timo. You love him—and no, I wouldn’t do it

out of jealousy. That’s your thing, not mine.”

“Stop reading my damn mind!”
“Stop thinking then!”
We glared at each other.
“I’m not jealous,” I said. “I don’t like him. He’s an arrogant prick.”
“Takes one to—”
“Shut up.” I looked away from him. “Timo’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve to be ruined.

Those two in there, they don’t care. If exposing Timo will further their bloody agenda, they’ll do
it. Either order you to do it, or do it themselves. Damn it, it’s Ganwe all over again.”

He moved in front of me. “Timo’s not the one we’re after. We need to know what Kregan’s

up to.”

“Then go after him.”
“Not until we know what’s going on. Look, Jodi. I swear. We can go in, talk to the guy—”
“You’re forgetting one small point, Kir. Timo never called or visited me. For all I know, he

hates me.”

“No, he don’t. I checked on him when I was trying to find you. He’s frightened and worried,

but he don’t hate you.”

I sagged with relief. “Can you protect him? His family?”
“Absolutely.”
“And if Wesejne says we have to expose him?”
“I’m saying no. I ain’t much here to some, but the Weadenisis listen to me. If there are some

of our kind nice and safe and hidden, we got no reason to change that. But it’s who’s doing the
hiding and why, we need to know.”

“You could use your talent to make me agree, couldn’t you?”
His lips thinned and then he turned and walked away.
Kir!
He whirled. “And this is gonna be the way it is forever with you, ain’t it? I ain’t a human to

you, I’m just a fucking spook.”

“No, it was more...you could use it but you’re not using it. So...that tends to makes me trust

you.”

He frowned, then nodded. “Okay. But it’s still there, your suspicion.”
“Yes. How can it not be?”
He leaned against the opposite wall, his shoulders drooping with fatigue. “It’s like being a

kid again, you know? Even though I never had no powers in prison, the other kids hated my guts.
I didn’t even do nothing to them.”

I could almost see the lonely child he must have been. So hard to remember to be angry with

him. “You messed with my head. You’re talking about messing with Timo’s head, and he’s
important to me. I have a right to be suspicious.”

His jaw worked. “They want me back in there.”
The thought of Wesejne and his arrogance made my upper lip curl in contempt. “Then do run

along.”

“You can stop being a prick any time, Jodi.”
He began to walk away. I caught up with him and grabbed his arm. “You want me to trust

you with someone who’s the most precious person in the world to me.”

He put his hand over mine, and stared into my eyes. “He won’t get hurt by anything I do, or

that I can stop.”

I couldn’t ask for more than that. Wesejne and the woman would be much cruder and more

careless than Kir, and I trusted him more than them. But I didn’t want this at all.

Chapter Eleven

On the surface, the plan seemed benign—call on Timo in the dead of night and talk to him

about Arwe Nidinwe’s school so Kir could see what had been blocked in his memories and if the
block was the same kind of thing done to me. What happened after that worried me. It felt like
the others, even Jeyle and Hermi, dismissed every protestation I made on behalf of these entirely
innocent people. It made me want to shake them and ask if they really wanted to drag more
people into the hell their own lives had become.

I had to have a fake biochip implanted in artificial skin over my real chip. There wasn’t time

to completely replace it as had been done to Jeyle and Kir. The naksen reservoir had to be
removed too, a procedure which didn’t hurt at the time, but made my arm ache unbearably when
the anaesthetic wore off. Dede was stingy with the pain relief—only, she swore, because my liver
needed the rest after the naksen. She claimed to be on my side over the issue of Timo, but maybe
she thought I needed to hear that.

At least it won me an exemption from the bloody greeting circle charade. I’d intended to

sleep but the pain and worry about Timo, what we planned to do, and confused feelings over Kir,
acted better than any stimulant to keep me awake. Going back to Vizinken as an escaped prisoner
also worried me. We’d be there at night, and in disguise, but I’d lived there for years. What if
someone recognised me?

A knock came at my door. Jodi, it’s me.
Come in, Kir.
He didn’t walk far into the room, instead hovering around the doorway. He frowned as if he

had an intractable headache. “I, uh...you’re distracting me. I couldn’t concentrate on the greeting
circle, so I excused myself.”

“Sorry.”
“Not your fault. Um...want me to do something about that?” He pointed to my arm rather

hesitantly, as if he realised that he could no longer use his powers on me without my protesting.

I thought about it. “Do it.”
The pain dropped off to the merest ache, a tiny shadow of what had been. “Amazing,” I

murmured. I tried not to think about how a telepath could have the opposite effect with as little
difficulty.

“Can’t do it too much. The brain gets used to it.”
“Still—thank you. I’m sorry I took you away from your friends.”
He shrugged. “My choice. You think you can sleep now?”
“Not a hope in hell. Why don’t you sit down?”

He sat rather warily on the chair.
“Will Wesejne be angry about you missing the greeting circle because of me?” I asked.
“Ticked off, yeah. He’ll live. Jeyle says I should keep away from you, but since we’re gonna

be spending so much time together anyway, don’t seem much point. I got too many people to
avoid here already.”

“I don’t want you to avoid me. We’re not children, Kir.”
He nodded. I sensed he wanted me to invite him to stay, and I wanted to...but I could never

trust that feeling. “I wish there was some way we could—”

“There ain’t,” he snapped.
“Then why are you doing this? You could be out there with your friends.”
“I didn’t want you to be in here hurting on your own.”
“It’s something I need to get used to.” He pulled a face. “When do we leave tomorrow?”
“Before it gets dark, cos we don’t want to be driving in the snow at night.”
We were taking a veecle. Kir, Jeyle, and I all had to have identities that would stand up to at

least some scrutiny in case security or traffic control stopped us. Sophisticated and near
undetectable makeup—another Weadenisi invention—would cover the tattoos. Those people
really scared me. They embodied everything that had made Pindone so paranoid about
paranormals.

“You should rest,” he said.
“Because you won’t need to listen to me.”
“No, not that,” he said, giving me a baleful look. “Cos you need the rest. I could help you....”
“No...no, thank you. The arm...no.”
“Okay, I heard you the first time,” he said, grimacing impatiently. “I get everything twice,

remember?”

“Thanks, I’d almost forgotten my thoughts are public property.” He scowled and made to get

up. “Wait. Kir, why don’t you help me build shields?”

“Yeah, cos me not knowing all your nasty thoughts about me would fix everything, wouldn’t

it.”

It was insanely difficult to discuss one’s mental processes when the other person could hear

you marshalling your arguments. “You’re listening to me trying to sort things out. Why not give
us both a rest and teach me how this shield thing works?”

He sighed. “Okay. I guess I was being a little stupid, hoping—”
“Wait...hoping?”
He looked away, as if he realised his eyes were open windows onto his feelings and had

learned not to give things away through them.

“I was kinda hoping you’d be willing to learn the Weadenisi technique. I had this stupid idea

about you and me working together. Jeyle did it, but none of the others would. Well, ‘cept Hermi,

but I wouldn’t let him work with me cos him being an empath and being chucked into a big city
is like boiling him in acid. And Dede’d already taught herself to shield before the terrors started,
so it was too late for her too.”

“Why did the others refuse? Is the shield inferior?”
“No, better. But they don’t want to be spies, and once they learn the other shielding, you

can’t really go backwards and use the Weadenisi one, not without a lot of motivation and work,
and it’s about a fifty percent failure even then. Basically, it’s either or. Uliem and Wizinaera
taught some of them the other way, and the rest was rushing over each other to learn it, in case I
tricked them or something. Now they’re all fucking useless.”

“Because the shields are detectable.”
“Yep. Whole thing gets thrown on me and Jeyle. I was hoping....” He gave a little chuckle.

“And with everything I done to you, too. The normal shield’s easy. I can do that tonight. You
want it?”

“No. I want the other one. Can you do that tonight instead?”
His expression changed to pure surprise. “You’d work with me?”
“I can’t see why the option should be removed. Any chance to get the hell away from here is

good.”

“‘S what I feel,” he said fervently. “But I can’t do it before we leave.”
“So...if I get picked up, I’m vulnerable.”
“Yeah, but I can cover you. You need to stick with me, but you need to do that anyway, cos

your cover’s not airtight. We go in quick, do the thing, and you get back to safety. A shield won’t
help you. It’d help us, until a TP got in and cracked you. Or they tortured you or drugged you to
make it break.”

I shivered and hugged myself with my good arm. “I wish I didn’t believe that’s going on.”
“Believe it. There’s things that won’t just keep you awake tonight, they’d keep you awake

for the rest of your life if you heard them. ‘Specially you being a doctor and stuff. I met people in
the Weadenal...bad shit.” He looked at me directly now. “You need to sleep. Seriously.”

“Dede’s hiding the good drugs, and I had a nap this afternoon.” I still felt tired though.
“Well, we got three choices. I move over the other side where I ain’t real welcome, like you

saw. I get Dede or another TP to sit in here and shield you until you do fall asleep. Or you stop
being an arse and let me knock you out. You choose.”

“Some choice.”
“It’s the way it is.”
He appeared so fragile from weariness and sorrow and disappointment, fine lines around

those so revealing eyes, his mouth drooping. The world placed too much on him, as had his
supposed friends.

“Okay, knock me out,” I said. “My liver will thank you, and so will my arm.”

He got up and then leaned over me, touching my forehead, the roughened skin of his fingers

strangely cool and soothing.

“You don’t actually need to do that, do you.”
“Um....” His expression said ‘caught’ as clearly as if he’d spoken it.
I grabbed his wrist as he went to lift his hand. “It’s okay.”
He nodded, and when I woke up the next morning, I couldn’t remember him going.

~~~

Jeyle announced we would be leaving at noon since she wanted to drive slowly and not

excite any unwanted attention. The driving conditions were atrocious, but with her talent and
mine, we would have no actual difficulties.

I spent the morning going over a list of names of students from the private boarding school

I’d attended until the age of sixteen, before I’d been allowed to enter the Academy two years
early and gain my first degree at a ridiculously young age. It surprised me how few people I’d
kept in contact with, or knew the fates of. I’d always thought of myself as gregarious, and I’d
certainly been well-liked, but now I had to accept that I’d never really let myself get close to
anyone except Timo and a couple of other boys. Afraid of my secret sexuality being revealed,
shamed by my provincial, restricted background, and always worried my uncouthness would
reveal itself at the wrong moment, I’d kept everyone at arm’s length.

Kir made no comment on my scanty notes, collecting them up and then telling me to go find

Hermi who’d help me with my disguise. My short hair would expose me quicker than the tattoo
would, so I had to wear a wig as well as concealing makeup, and synthaskin over the incision on
my arm. If I was arrested, the deception would be revealed very quickly, but Kir promised me
that wouldn’t happen while he was around. I’d have to stay in close proximity to him at all times,
to ensure his shielding covered me.

Finally being flown three pardecs to the hidden garage, and then getting into the veecle and

out on the open road, came as a relief, even if our driver radiated so much hostility I didn’t need
empathy to detect it. The road improved once we hit the main north-south highway. We
encountered little traffic, unsurprisingly—only a few syngas-powered, heavy-goods movers,
plying their way slowly to the few towns and settlements unconnected by the rollo network, the
occasional private veecle passing us at high speed. Our veecle was snow-fitted, but Jeyle gave the
wheels some assistance. We never got stuck or skidded, quite amazing in a five-hour journey of
that kind.

We had to stop and change over batteries once, using the chance to drink some hot khevai

and eat some pie. We avoided civilisation, naturally enough, but we had no need to stop in any
town until we arrived at Vizinken as the street lighting flickered on, and the sun, having poked its
head out for a mere half hour after the snow that had fallen all day, disappeared below the
northwest mountain crests.

We got stuck behind snow cleaners and light urban traffic, a few slow transit carriers, packed

with weary passengers on their way home to their supper. Jeyle drove with perfect patience,
obeying every regulation with care, and keeping away from other veecles. We didn’t want to be
involved in even a minor accident while in the city. Every time we approached an intersection, I
tensed up. Fortunately, Jeyle wasn’t an empath or I’d have driven her insane with my anxiety.

As we drew closer to our destination, my tension levels racked up still further. “Tell me

about this fellow we’re visiting,” I asked Kir, trying to distract myself. “A normal?”

“Yeah, but his Da was a paranormal. Seeing how his Da and his aunt and her husband all

ended up in prison cos of them being Spiritists, he’s none too friendly with the government
types.”

“The man died.”
Kir gave Jeyle a funny look before he answered. “Yeah. Meram never found out the truth

about it neither, and it’s something that really bites. So he’s sound. You get a lot of normals like
that, see—people whose parents or sisters or brothers or friends got hauled away, or shoved onto
naksen and their lives fucked. The Spiritists don’t have no trouble recruiting, even with the
risks.”

“One of my colleagues—former colleagues—was arrested for associating with them.”
“Yes,” Jeyle said. “We heard about that—they had the wrong information, but we could do

nothing to help the man. An accusation is enough to ruin a reputation, a security rating. We have
to exercise extreme caution in our dealings with the Spiritists. We need them very much more
than they need us.”

“You all need the Weadenisis more, right?”
The mirror reflected her glare at me. “Yes. Don’t judge them because you antagonised one of

our staunchest allies, Jodi. Wesejne is honest to the bone.”

“Maybe, but he’s an arrogant prick.”
“Tell me—would you prefer him or Noret to be in charge of your future?”
“Ask me something easier, Jeyle.”
Kir smirked at me in the mirror, but I wasn’t lying. I didn’t know the answer. Both men were

arrogant, and I knew neither of them well enough to assess their motives. I had a feeling her
question wasn’t theoretical.

Meram hon Rensire lived on the north edge of Vizinken, a prosperous, older suburb full of

highset homes and tall fences giving the residents privacy. He lived not far from Timo, in fact,
which made me crouch down below the window even though it was full dark by now, and if
anything, the street lighting with its harsh shadows did more than enough to hide my face.

“Knock that off, Jodi,” Kir snapped. “You act like a criminal, people’ll see you that way. I’m

scanning. Anyone recognises you, they’ll stick out like a beacon. Walk proud. You ain’t got
nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Sorry. It’s just...this was my home.”
“‘Was’ being the operative word,” Jeyle said unkindly. “Kir, let him know we’re a minute

away, please?”

Kir’s message meant that as we drove up towards a neat house on an ordinary street, the

garage door unfolded, and our veecle swept in without the slightest pause. A short red-haired
man, my age or thereabouts, with a permanently worried expression, came to us as the garage
doors closed with a well-oiled hiss.

“I greet you, Jeyle, Kir—and our new friend,” he said as we climbed out of the veecle.
“We greet you, Meram,” Jeyle said, clasping his hands. “This is Jodi.”
I gave a little wave. “Uh, hi. I, uh, greet you too.”
He smiled rather solemnly, and then ushered us into the house where we could shed our

outer gear. His wife, Terna, a pretty woman with a motherly figure, welcomed us as he’d done,
and served up khevai and hot rolls without waiting to ask if we wanted them. Warm, tasty scents
from the kitchen promised a good meal for us later on. After so many hours in the cramped
veecle, staring out onto a wintry landscape, it was as welcome as a hot bath.

The home was comfortable without being luxurious—a family home, and with images and

knickknacks displayed that indicated family was very important to these people. It was not unlike
my parents’ house, but without the rigid formality and obsessive tidiness Mam imposed.
Children’s toys were piled out of the way in the corner, ready for use, and a stack of well-
thumbed medical journals had clearly been hastily straightened up before we arrived. The place
was neat and clean, but I didn’t feel I had to apologise simply for sitting on the sofa and wearing
it out.

It became clear that Meram and Terna were old and good friends of Kir and Jeyle. Kir

regularly stayed with them, and a cover of him being a cousin’s former husband had been set up
for years. For me, being back in a normal, middle-class house again disoriented me considerably.
Meram was a doctor like me, as his parents had been. I didn’t know what he knew of my
background. I waited to take my lead from Kir and Jeyle.

“Arwe Jodi, we’re being very rude,” Terna said at last, smiling at me. “It’s always such a

pleasure to see two of our friends. How long have you known Kir?”

“Uh, a few months,” I said. Kir didn’t look at me. “He’s been...very helpful.”
“He’s so brave. We owe him our lives.”
“So do I. Have you always been Spiritists?”
Meram’s expression clouded. “No. My aunt was a prominent member. She was arrested and

imprisoned for her activities. My father was wrongly convicted for being involved with her. I
grew up hating Spiritists. Ten years ago, one of my aunt’s old friends contacted me, and I learned
more about what had happened when I was a child. My grandparents raised me, but they had
believed the same lies I did. I don’t know what happened to my father, but I know he was no

criminal. One day, I hope to prove that. Until then, I’ll work to spare others the misery I
endured.”

His wife covered his hand with her own. “Are you a Spiritist, Arwe Jodi?”
“Just Jodi and...well, I don’t know much about it. I think the work you’re doing is amazing,

but the religious side of it...I’m not a very spiritual person. Raised a Marranite, curse in his name,
that kind of thing.” I shrugged. “I’m a scientist. I like facts.”

Meram managed a smile at that. “On that, Jodi, you and I can agree. I’m dying to ask you

about where you trained and so on, but it’s best I don’t. However, would you mind if we held a
small greeting circle? It won’t take long.”

“Uh, sure. No, I don’t mind.” I hadn’t been expecting a religious ceremony.
“You can join in, watch, or I can find you somewhere—”
“No, I’ll watch. If that’s okay.”
He nodded, and then the four of them got up from their chairs and sat in a circle on the rug.

He looked up at me. “We don’t keep the chairs in a circle because it gives it away, what we are.”

I gaped at him. So that explained.... “My mother would never allow chairs to be pulled

around. Ever. She smacked me hard once for even suggesting it.”

“Yes. Stupid prejudice, but there you have it. You can sit here too, Jodi. I promise, nothing

unfactual will happen.”

He was only teasing, and what could it hurt? So I climbed down and sat next to Kir and

Terna. Each took my hand.

Meram cleared his throat. “My friends, my beloved Terna, I greet you. It’s been a little while

since we saw you, Kir, Jeyle. My spirit lifts to know you are well, and that your friend, Jodi, is
also well.”

“My spirit lifts to know you are both safe, and that your family continues to be healthy and

happy,” Jeyle replied gravely.

“We bring you greetings from our friends, and news,” Kir said.
And that was it, basically. Just formal welcomes, some information they hadn’t already

covered, while holding hands. No prayers, no invocations, nothing else. The only thing vaguely
spiritual about it came at the end, when Meram asked us to send our thoughts to the spirits of two
recently deceased Spiritists, and to wish them well on their journey to the next life. Then with a
final squeeze of my hands, Kir and Terna set me free, smiled and then sat back up in their chairs.

Meram looked at me with amusement. “You seem confused, Jodi.”
“Um...that’s all there is?”
“Well, yes. It’s a coming together of people, our spirits—a connection. In a bigger circle,

there will be more news, more deaths to commemorate, welcomes, and so on. Issues to discuss,
and, oh, arguments too. All we’re doing is reminding ourselves that we belong to a great
communion of spirits, part of a river of existence. You can see why the government’s terribly

threatened by us.”

“I can see why the Marranites are, anyway,” I murmured, thinking of the vast religious

industry and the influence it possessed. “Don’t you need an empath for a greeting circle?”

“Goodness no,” Terna said as her husband rose to clear our mugs and plates. “We welcome

them, but they’re not essential, no matter what anyone says. We don’t sit around trying to talk to
the dead, you know.”

“Uh, no, I know that.” Jeyle sniffed at me behind Terna’s back. “You have children.”
“Oh yes. Twin boys and a girl. They stay over at my parents when we have other overnight

‘visitors’, though they know Kir. My parents are Spiritists, but...they don’t know what we do, and
we want to keep it that way.” A warning, and I nodded. “Meram’s childhood was so miserable,
he was determined to make a happy home for as many children as we could manage. I put my
foot down after three. The twins were a real handful.”

Meram smiled at her. So much in love, it made me jealous, and homesick for Timo all over

again. “I’ll go dish up supper,” Meram said, “and then you three probably want a chance to rest
before you go out.”

The plan was to visit Timo in the dead of night after his family had gone to bed. I had cold

feet again, but if this charming couple could put their lives and happiness at risk for the sake of
paranormals, why did I scruple at asking Timo some questions?

Are you sure it’s safe? I asked Kir as Meram and Terna left the room.
As sure as I can be about anything, he said, giving me an impatient look.
Okay. I wanted this part over.
Jeyle went out to help our hosts. I looked around the small sitting room again, and now

noticed an old image of a tall, handsome, red-haired man in pride of place.

His father?
Yeah. Guess they must’ve picked a donor with red hair.
I nodded. With the ban on allowing paranormals to marry or adopt children, a lot of people

had lost their families. They would be, like us, carrying a lot of anger and pain. But so far it
hadn’t erupted into open—or even covert—revolt against the policy. Could that anger ever be
tapped to make things change? And would it mean a civil war in Pindone like those which had
rent Febkeinzian and Denebwei? I was no politician, nor a historian. I only wanted justice. It
seemed a distant dream.

We ate a simple but hearty meal. I found I liked Meram and Terna a great deal. Their

generosity and openness reminded me of Da’s parents. Terna was a teacher with an interest in
history. She and Jeyle taught me a lot that evening that I’d never learned in school about
paranormals, though she admitted she could never teach her students what we freely discussed
here in private.

“One day,” she said with a sigh, reaching for Meram’s hand.

“Yes. One day,” he said, looking at us with a determined expression. “Now, Kir, you know

where to go and where everything is. You and Jodi can share the twins’ room. We’ll see you in
the morning. Jodi, our home is yours, please treat it as such.”

“Thank you.”
He smiled and then Kir indicated we should go. We collected our packs and he took me to

the back of the house, while Jeyle claimed the guest bathroom. The large bedroom Kir and I were
to share contained twin beds and the detritus of two boy’s lives—toys and dozens of books on
buildings and mechanical objects, a bulging closet full of clothes, and an enormous image of an
erupting volcano given pride of place above the beds. Stars and planets decorated the bedcovers,
and a model of the planetary system hung from the ceiling.

“Is this all right with you?” Kir asked as he set our packs down. “I could sleep on the sofa—”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Okay. I’m gonna knock you out again though, if you don’t sleep.”
He sat on the bed and ran his fingers through his dark hair. I tried to resist the urge to scratch

under my damn wig, hateful thing, and decided I had time to refix it, so I ripped it off.

He looked up at me. “You okay?”
“Why do you ask that sort of thing, Kir?”
“So you don’t freak out on me about my telepathy every five seconds?”
I’ve been using your telepathy to talk to you all damn day.
Yeah, but it ain’t the same as me pulling stuff out of your head. Look, if it’s really bothering

you, don’t go. Wesejne don’t need to know.

No. I want to see him. I’m just...scared.
Yeah. He’s a lucky man, having you care so much. Pity he’s a coward.
He’s not! He wanted a family, always did, and I couldn’t offer him that, even if there wasn’t

homophobia to worry about.

Kir stared at me. No, he could have called you in prison.
No, he really couldn’t. You’re being a prick.
Yeah, maybe. Maybe I’m jealous too.
He lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. There’s another reason I’m a prick. Every

time I come here, I feel guilty. Damn good thing Meram ain’t no empath like his Da.

Guilty? Why?
Cos his Da’s not dead, neither’s his aunt. But I can’t ever tell him that. Least, not until

Pindone stops being so fucking paranoid about us.

I sat on my own bed and looked at him in astonishment. But why would you conceal

information about that from him? I thought he was a friend. And how come Meram thinks he’s
dead?

Cos it’s the official story the family got given. I didn’t know myself until I met the guy in the

Weadenal. This was two years after I met Meram, so it wasn’t like I started off deceiving him—
get that look off your face, Jodi.

Not looking at anything, you prick. So, his father’s hiding from Meram?
Kir shook his head. Not exactly. The Elected are protecting him. There’s a lot of our people

down there, refugees, but we can’t use them cos of the risks. Their families all think they’re dead.
None of them ever seen their people again.

How many, I wondered. And why had this lost population not been harnessed in some way

to fight the oppression? Poor bastards. But if the Weadenisis have been doing this for all these
years, why the hell did they let things get this bad in Pindone?

Cos there’s only a couple of hundred of them. They do a lot, Jodi. But they can’t fix the

whole of Pindone for us. Every time they do big stuff—like the breakouts that got Meram’s Da
out of prison, or our lot—they’re risking their own safety. They got plans for us, they just work
slow and careful. Mostly they try and get people out of the country, if they can, cos they can look
after them down there. That’s where they’ve been putting all their energy. You should talk to
Wesejne about it.

Huh, I don’t think so.
Your choice. We’ve got at least two hours before we head out. You should rest or read or

something. Watch a dramasim, he said, nodding to the skimmer in the corner. Be ‘normal’.

Ha ha. I gave him a sour look.
He closed his eyes. I’m gonna get some sleep. Jeyle’ll wake us up when she’s ready to go.
I looked at him, stretched out against the cheerful starry covers, long legs crossed, so lithe

and male and alive, and a wave of such loneliness and desire hit me so hard it physically hurt.
And then my stomach churned as the desire was followed by an equally powerful wave of
confusion at my wanting someone who’d violated me and destroyed my life.

I needed privacy. Some hope. “I’m going to have a bath,” I snapped.
“Good idea.” No overt acknowledgement of what he’d have to have read in my thoughts.
Humiliated and angry with myself, I picked up my personal pack and fled.
The bathroom was small, and stuffed with bath toys and children’s goods, but clean, new-

looking towels had been laid out, and there was a generous sized bath as well as shower for me to
choose from.

I ended up taking an hour-long bath, making use of the bottle of cleanser which had been put

out with the towels especially for our use. The sweet smell did much to ease my fraying nerves,
as did the luxury of the hot water. I tried very hard not to think about my situation, or anything
much at all, but my thoughts kept drifting where I didn’t want them to go—back to prison, or to
Timo. Or to Kir. Once, a bath like this would have had my mind working on my research, but
that was now gone for good, and dwelling on that fact, didn’t help. Perhaps I should get Ferige to
teach me woodworking too. I no longer had a job. I needed a hobby.

When I could bear to spend no longer in the bath, I got out and dried myself. I then wasted

another twenty minutes reapplying the tattoo cover and refixing the wig. By the time I finished, I
was pruny but calmer, and ready to face Kir again.

He woke up not long after I came back into the room—or at least, he pretended to wake up—

and gave an exaggerated sniff. “Hey. You smell like flowers.”

“They have nice toiletries and I...well, I’m still not over the prison showers.”
“No. Took me about two years before I stopped bathing three times a day, so I could use

Jeyle’s cleanser. She used to stock up.” He looked at the timekeeper, then concentrated for a few
moments. “Your man’s asleep, so’s the family. We could go early. Jeyle’s awake.”

“Okay.” I wanted it over with, even though I didn’t want to do it at all. “Kir…one thing. I

won’t lie to him, and I won’t let you lie to him.”

His lips thinned. “I’ll do what I need to, to keep you safe and us safe. If that means lying, if it

means wiping your memory, I’m gonna do it. Don’t take that attitude with me, Jodi.” His lips
compressed in annoyance. “Let’s move.”

Jeyle was ready to leave, though she looked tired. We didn’t take the veecle, since it would

arouse the interest of the neighbours. Instead, Jeyle lifted us in complete silence over the snowy
rooftops and respectable white-blanketed gardens, flying low and fast over respectable suburban
streets and their sleeping occupants, Kir scanning to ensure no one peered out behind curtains and
shutters and wondered who the hell we were.

He reached for my hand as we came close to Timo’s house, the familiar neighbourhood alien

from this angle. I squeezed his fingers tight, grateful for the comfort, as Jeyle brought us down to
the porch.

As we landed, the door opened. And there he stood.
Timo.
He was dressed only in white pyjamas and dark green bathrobe, rumpled and sleepy, dark

curly hair sticking up every which way, his eyes confused but still so handsomely blue. My
breath caught, and his eyes widened as he saw me. He didn’t shout because I put my finger to my
lips, but he reached for me and pulled me into his arms. His familiar warm scent, the feel of his
slight beard on my cheek, made me tear up with homesickness and affection.

“Jodi,” he whispered. “Marra’s balls.”
“Let’s go inside, Timo.”
He held my arm all the way into the house, turned on the smallest lamp in the room, and then

made me face him. “Jodi...did you escape from prison?”

“Yes, and these people helped me. Timo, we need to talk to you, and I need you to be quiet.”
He glanced back towards the bedrooms. “Hana—”
“Your family’s safe and asleep,” Kir said, his voice gentle but commanding attention. “I’m a

telepath. We rescued Jodi, and now we want your help.”

“For what? Jodi, please...I can’t risk them, I can’t—”
“Shhh. Timo, you know me, would I do that to you?”
He shook his head, his eyes suspiciously bright. “I would have come but they...came to

work. Made it clear if I tried to contact you...we’d lose everything. They threatened the boys. I’m
so sorry.”

He hung his head. I patted his shoulder and wanted to hug him, but Kir was watching.
“Timo, I need to ask you about your childhood.”
He frowned at me. “Why?”
“Because someone made me forget a lot of things that happened to me, blocked my talent,

made me think I was normal. We’re trying to find out who and why. It’s something to do with
school, we think.”

“No...no.” He shook his head frantically, holding up his hands in refusal. “You can’t...I’m

not like you. Am I? Are you trying to send me to pr—”

Kir raised his own hand and Timo froze. “Calm down, Mas Paltimo,” he grated out. “No

one’s going to prison. But we ain’t got time to indulge you neither, so you keep quiet until we
need you to speak.”

Timo’s eyes grew wide with shock.
“It’s okay,” I said uselessly, glaring at Kir. “We need you not to wake people up. Timo, no

one will put you in danger. I just need some information. Kir, let him talk.”

“I don’t know anything about your talent,” Timo said, glancing worriedly at Kir and Jeyle.
“No, I know. All you have to do is remember some things. Let me guide you. Do you trust

me, Timo? Will you let us do this?” He nodded, though still clearly anxious. I put my arm around
his shoulders. “Thank you. Now....”

I guided him through the questions Kir and Hermi had put me through, with Jeyle prompting.

Kir said nothing, but he recorded it all in his perfect memory. Finally, he nodded at me.

“We’re done,” I said, hugging Timo a little,.
“I don’t understand, Jodi. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know all the answers. Near as I can tell, someone wanted to make sure I never found

out I was paranormal—and that no one else did either. We wanted to know if your memory had
been interfered with in the same way. Kir?”

Kir, who’d gone over to watch Jeyle working, turned around. “Yeah, exactly the same. For

the same reason, I think.”

“I’m a paranormal?” I nodded. “Marra’s tits.” Timo clutched at his bathrobe, pulling it

closed around his chest. “You’re going to expose me?” His voice went high-pitched in terror.

“Not if it meant my life,” I said, staring into his eyes, trying to reassure. “This is what will

happen. Kir here will erase all memory of this event from your mind. You’ll wake up tomorrow
and never know we were here—”

He grabbed for my hands. “Forget you? Jodi, no!”
“Timo, there are telepaths working for the government. They tried to recruit me. It’s not safe.

I won’t be gone forever, I swear. You have to trust me.”

“I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Same here.”
We stared at each other, regretful and longing, until Kir coughed a little. “Guys?”
“Uh, yeah. Kir is going to plant a suggestion in your mind so you visit some of the people

from school. He needs to check their memories too. No one will ever know. There’s no danger.”

“If I refuse? You’ll do it anyway?”
“Yes.” That was Jeyle, at her most cold and unsympathetic. “Because someone is controlling

a lot of innocent people and manipulating them, and we have to know why. It’s bad enough that
the government is suppressing us, but whoever did this, isn’t part of that. You could be in grave
danger, Mas Paltimo.”

“I hate it, but she’s right, Timo,” I said. “You have no idea how bad the situation is. Kir’s

good. You won’t be aware of any of it, and he’ll disappear from your life without you ever
knowing.”

“That’s horrible,” he said, shivering. “How can you be so calm, Jodi?”
If only he knew. “Because there are worse things.”
He touched my arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“Absolutely not your fault. Kir, leave him with that, at least. Knowing it was all he could

do.”

“All right. Say your goodbyes, cos I gotta do my thing.”
Kir’s voice lacked any trace of friendliness, and Jeyle’s expression was set in stone. I

ignored them both as I hugged Timo and whispered that I loved him, and would come back when
it was safe. I had no idea when that would be.

Then I let him go, and his expression went blank as Kir set to work. A couple of minutes

later Timo rose like a sleepwalker and let us out of the house. The door closed behind us with a
quiet, final clunk that made me die a little inside.

Kir said nothing as we flew back to Meram and Terna’s. Smart man. Jeyle delivered a curt

‘Good night’ and a warning to me not to sleep too late, and went off to her room.

In ours, I sat on my bed, my fists clenched, unable to stop shaking.
Kir came over and knelt in front of me, his hands resting lightly on my knees, his dark eyes

kind, searching my face.

“I just...seeing him. I miss him. I miss...all of it. My life, my...Timo, and—” I closed my eyes

and bit my lip to stop me saying things that would hurt us both. What was done was done, and the
past could not be unmade. But Timo’s eyes as we said goodbye would haunt me forever.

“Calm down—”

“Use your talent on me, Kir and I’ll turn you into a roast dinner. Don’t you dare wipe my

memories.”

He gripped my chin and made me look at him. “If I wanted to do that, you’d never know it,

right? You think that’s all I am? A telepath?”

“I want to hate you,” I said, my voice shaking so hard I could barely understand my own

words. “How can I make a friend of someone who did what you did?”

“You just...do. If you want to. I can apologise and apologise and it won’t make any

difference. It’s done, and if I had to, in the same situation, I’d do it again because it’s bigger than
you, bigger than me. It’s not just for me, Hermi, all of us. It’s your friend, his family, the others
like him. It’s people like your guy, Neim. It’s people like my sisters, growing up thinking their
brother killed their Mam. I’d do it again even if you hate me. I love you, Jodi. But you’re just one
guy.”

He rocked back on his heels, his expression set, waiting for me to bite back. I couldn’t. All I

could see was Neim’s desperate face as he begged me to find his son. Timo as he pleaded with
me not to bring my hellish fate on him and his. All the sad, hopeless paranormals I’d put through
my clinical trials, treating them as cannon fodder for the greater good.

“I want it to stop hurting,” I whispered.
“I can make it not hurt.”
“Not with your—”
“No. Shhh. Let me make you feel good. I need to.”
He leaned up and kissed me, barely more than a brush of his lips against mine, as if he was

afraid how I’d react to more. I went stock-still, my thoughts, my feelings colliding so hard I
couldn’t react with words or act. He moved so he could sit on the bed beside me, then kissed me
again. This time I responded, ravaging his mouth, greedily, wantonly, because tasting his warmth,
male and desirable, felt better than the agony in my heart. His hand tugged at my belt, and I
helped him undo it, still kissing him and rubbing my hands up and down his slim, muscled back.
I needed him naked, I needed to touch warm, living skin.

He sat up suddenly and tore off his sweater and shirts as I clawed at his lean, brown body,

needing him to come back, closer, so I could touch him. So needy, so weak, and yet I couldn’t
stop this craving because it made me feel good and I wanted something to end the pain. He let me
tug him down so I could stroke and touch him. His hand slid into my open trousers, palming me,
and my cock swelled against that knowing, possessing touch.

“Please,” I whispered, kissing him desperately, begging. “Please, Kir.”
He moved down, but before I could complain about the loss of his lips on mine, his mouth

touched me again, only lower. I arched, sudden heat and slickness on my cock so intense and
welcome. I spread my legs, eager for him to close in. He pushed a hand under me, cupping my
buttocks, squeezing, as his sweet, sweet mouth worked on me. I gripped coarse, thick hair, his

smooth shoulders, needing so much to have him connected to me, needing his mouth on my cock,
sliding with skill and gentleness, his mouth a haven for my pain and my lust, his hands on
backside and thigh claiming me and possessing me.

It ended fast, my orgasm hot, shattering, him swallowing me down and giving no quarter

until he had tasted it all and released me, and as I shuddered in the grip of climax, he licked me
and kissed me until I grew calm and limp to his touch. My fingers released the hair I’d held so
cruelly, and I moved them to caress his cheek—no stubble though it was night, his ancestors a
strong and beardless race of warriors.

I pushed myself up, and he stood, hard in the trousers I fumbled to undo. His hand guided

my face to his crotch as naturally and easily as any man might, but I froze, jerking back.

“No.” My heart raced, my nostrils flaring in memory. “No, I can’t.”
He crouched, holding my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. “Hey, it’s me. Jodi,

it’s me. It’s okay.” He held me until I stopped shuddering. “I’m sorry.”

“Just...I can’t, I can’t....”
My fists clenched so tight my nails felt like they cut into me.
“No. It’s okay, I—”
I reached down and cupped him. “No. I want...stand up.”
He did, but then lay down again, insisting on kissing me, petting me, murmuring gentling

words that I should have been ashamed to need if it wasn’t him saying them. My fingers played
over his erection, still trapped behind cloth, touching and stroking the warm hardness, teasing
him, but without him doing the least thing to encourage me.

He didn’t resist as I tugged his erection free, shimmied a little as my hand wrapped around it,

his tongue more eager, more demanding as I stroked silky, perfect skin, a touch as familiar as my
name to me, even though he was yet unfamiliar, terrifying but desired. He gasped and writhed
under my hand, a touch too desperate to be as skilled and gentle as he had been, but he didn’t
seem to care.

And when he’d spent, he licked every trace of himself from my fingers, kissing the tips with

a reverence that made my vision blur, then he kissed the moisture from my eyes. He held me
close, and stroked my back, an illusion of intimacy that I so desperately needed, though the gulf
between us was, in reality, as wide as before. Somehow he manoeuvred us around, and a little
time later I found myself divested of clothes and under covers.

I thought about accusing him of using his powers for evil, but decided I didn’t want to

disturb this fragile, temporary peace between us. He curled up against me, his head familiarly
against my shoulder the way Timo used to fall asleep, and the pang of homesickness and sadness
hit me again, though distantly, bearably this time. I kissed the top of his head, grateful and
ashamed at the same time.

Thank you.

His fingers over my heart tightened a little. Sleep. Long day tomorrow.
True, and travel, emotion, and the brief, vivid sex had exhausted me. I had things I wanted to

say to him, but my thoughts were chaotic and my mouth uncooperative. They would wait.

But as I drifted off to sleep, I thought I heard him say something. Words that, if he’d said

them aloud, would not be easily overlooked, easily erased.

If you loved me the way you love him, I’d never give you up.
On the edge of sleep, I didn’t know if I said, or he heard me reply, If I loved you...I could

never let you go.

Chapter Twelve

He’d gone when I woke, but as I dressed, heavy-hearted but calm, he returned, apparently

having only been out to use the bathroom. He stood, assessing me—reading my mind no doubt,
so I didn’t bother asking questions. Nor did he.

“Your friend’s awake, and he’s fine. I did what you asked, but he still feels like a shit. Not

much I can do about that.” His tone implied Timo deserved his guilt. “Meram and Terna are
having breakfast. We need to leave when they do, or it’ll look funny.”

To offer me shielding Kir would drive with us out of Vizinken and to a rollo station some

hundred pardecs north, then to catch a rollo back to town. He would stay with Meram as long as
it took for Timo to contact our school friends. Even with my own experience of Kir’s great skill
and power, I still worried that Timo would expose himself to the security forces.

Kir walked over to me—but didn’t come too close. The intimacy of the night before had

been a truce, but now the war had resumed. Nothing had really changed.

“I’ll be tracking him, Jodi. Anyone pays too much attention to him, I’ll notice, and deflect

them. He’ll be as safe as you will be back in the refuge.”

“I don’t want to be back there and safe, I want to be here. Protecting my friend.”
“You can’t do nothing. All you can do is risk him and you. You said yourself, someone

might see you, recognise you. You need to go. Now move, will you? Put the wig back on, they
don’t know you was in prison.”

“‘Were’.”
“Why bother pretending I’m better than I am? Least to you. You know what I am.”
“You sound like Ganwe when you talk like that.”
“That’s cos me and him come from the same streets. I could’ve been him, if I hadn’t been a

spook. You think I use people same as him and you’re right. I do. Just not for the same reason.
Stop worrying about how the fuck I speak. I can act when I need to. I don’t want to do it around
you.”

Breakfast was a rushed, subdued affair. Meram and Terna had jobs to go to, lucky people,

and clearly knew better than to ask about our mission. Meram had prepared a food package for
our journey, and with that handed over, a last hug to Jeyle and a handshake to me, they sent us on
our way.

There was no chatter this time. I hunched disconsolately in the backseat as familiar streets

and landmarks passed me by. On the street, people rushed to their jobs, getting on with their
lives. Vizinken sparkled in the cold sunlight, the snow where it lay undisturbed, a pure clean
mask over any defects.

If Jeyle took a right turn here, drove down that road there, continued but a little way, we’d

come to my old house. I wondered what had happened to it, whether my parents had sold it,
rented it out, or maybe even donated it to Mam’s blasted temple. The loss of my little home hurt a
good deal that morning. I missed this city so very much.

We drove back north on the main highway, the snow of yesterday cleared efficiently and not

replaced overnight, though more would probably fall before evening. Two hours later, Jeyle took
a side road and we came to one of the smaller stations on the main north-south line, only a matter
of ten minutes or so before a southbound train was due.

Kir said nothing to Jeyle, but she kissed his cheek and smiled at him before he opened the

door. I got out of the back seat and stood in the freezing, clear air, waiting to change seats with
him. He nodded to me.

I could be a couple of weeks getting back to you all. Try not to fight with too many people.
Be careful.
He flashed white teeth at me as he grinned. I’m always careful.
Of him.
That too. Go on, and don’t piss her off.
I’ll stop breathing then, shall I?
He shrugged and then walked off. I watched him for a second or two, then got back into the

veecle. Jeyle waited only long enough for me close the door and fasten restraints, before she
turned the motor over and we set off.

She wasn’t inclined to talk, and I, with all my miserable thoughts, was in no mood for more

of her accusations. I resented her attitude, frankly. She had no right to it, however much she cared
for Kir. But I wouldn’t argue, not on an icy road and her in charge of the only transport, mundane
or paranormal.

But after an hour, I decided to ask. “I need a favour.”
She risked a glance at me, her mouth displeased. “And what makes you think I would grant

one to you?”

“Because it’s not just for me. Do you need to be a telepath to teach those special shields you

and Kir use?”

I’d clearly surprised her, for it took several seconds for her to answer. “Not for all of it, but

to put the final touches.”

“You can teach me some of it and Dede can finish it?”
“We can try. Not everyone has the ability. It’s not easy. Why? Want to hide your nasty

thoughts from him?”

“Yes.” Her expression shifted subtly, as if I’d surprised her but she would never admit it.

“He explained...that there are strategic advantages to the special shields.”

“He’s never going to work with you covertly, Jodi. I won’t allow it.”

“Fine. I’ll just go find one of your telepathic friends and ask them to build the ordinary

shields for me. Then the chance to take from his shoulders some of the atrocious burden you lot
have placed on him will be lost. One way or another, I will have shields, and my privacy back.
I’d have thought you would realise how much that would help him too.”

Her eyes narrowed as her hand tightened on the control stick. “We should have left you in

prison.”

“Agreed. At least I had a value there, even if only as a pathetic little cocksucker. But you and

he took that away from me, so now you have to finish what you started. Teach me to shield, or
get someone else to.”

She drove on in grim-faced silence. I was serious in my intention, but I’d wait until Kir could

teach me the special shields, if she would not. I had so little else to do.

After nearly half an hour of ignoring me, she said, “It takes a long time.”
“I have plenty. How do I start?”
“A series of mental exercises. I doubt you have the discipline.”
“The worst that can happen is that you’ll be proved right.”
She refused to talk to me at all then until we arrived at the refuge, stalking off with Hermi as

we came into the living area, and leaving me to the tender mercies of two elderly telekinetics
whose names I couldn’t recall at that point. They clucked over me for being so skinny and
insisted on my eating far more than I really wanted.

After lunch, a check in with Dede, and a session with Ronwe, I returned to my room and

found a sheaf of printed notes on my bed, a handwritten one on top. ‘Do these, in order, and for
the prescribed time. Dede can test you in a week. I expect you to fail.’

No signature—it required none. I wondered if she would ever stop hating me, and how

Hermi could abide being with her if she projected such negative emotions.

The mental exercises involved such strange ideas as imagining myself in and behind a

waterfall, concentrating on the inner surface of a child’s ball, and trying to see a piece of glass
without looking through it. They appeared completely random to me, nothing related to what I
wanted to achieve, but damned if I would ask Jeyle for help. Hermi probably would, but if I
failed, I wanted it to be all my own fault.

So for the next week I either followed the shield preparations in my room or the daylight

lounge, exercised physically to regain my fitness, or worked with Ronwe to perfect my control
over my talent. I think the obsessiveness with which I approached the matter bothered him, but
he’d had over forty years to learn how to precisely shape and control the mysterious fire, and I’d
had less than a month in which to do so.

Maybe we weren’t supposed to use our powers to kill, but I wanted to be absolutely sure no

one would capture me again without a fight. Besides, making flames shoot a quarter demidec
from the ends of my fingers, hot enough to melt metal and rock, was better than orgasm.

‘Nights’ were hellish, and I ended up spending most of them on a sofa in the living area. My

bedroom was too quiet, the air too still. The ventilation worked too efficiently and silently, and
no other noises could be heard through the solid rock walls. The prison had been the opposite.
There, the constant sounds of hundreds of other men had often disturbed my sleep. What I longed
for was normality—the soft noises of my law-abiding neighbours going about their lives, distant
flutters and squeaks and tweets and flappings of other living things, reminding me that the world
existed. Here, once I closed my bedroom door, it was like being sealed in a pod, and I rarely fell
asleep without surging to full wakefulness at least once with my heart racing and my thoughts
panicking.

I didn’t know why the lack of windows bothered me more here than it did in prison. I

supposed the sedative effect of the naksen or the overwhelming symptoms caused by withdrawal
had masked my claustrophobia. Once, Kir could have masked it too.

I could only hope the panic attacks would die off, and spent as much time outside or under

daylight simulation as I could. I doubted I would ever find this place as safe and welcoming as
the others did. I was an outsider, and though I no longer had anything to hide from my
companions, I still felt separated from them by upbringing, by history, and my own attitudes.

I couldn’t bring myself to attend the next greeting circle, held three days after we came back

—another mark against me in Jeyle’s eyes, and disappointing to Hermi. A religion based on
spirits allegedly visible to empaths offered no more comfort than Marranism did. I was jobless,
faithless and homeless. I didn’t feel like sitting in a circle holding hands and sharing feelings
about all that with people I didn’t know or particularly trust.

At the end of the week, I visited Dede and asked for her assessment of my progress.
“You understand I’m not the expert on these Weadenisi shields, don’t you?” she said.
“Do what you can,” I told her. “I want to know if the exercises are working.”
She closed the file in front of her. “Very well. Think of two balls, one red, one blue. Place

the red one inside the shield, the other in your public thoughts.”

A week ago, such an instruction would have been nonsensical, but now I understood. I did

my best to follow her command, and then she concentrated.

“Right. I can still read both but the red one is definitely fuzzy. I can’t tell if it’s a thought

you’re having or a memory.” She smiled. “I think you’re on the right path. Keep working.”

“Can you do anything to speed it up?”
“Not at this point. But you’re doing well. Your thoughts are far less intrusive. You think,

emote, very loudly, but now what I’m reading from you is muted. Makes it easier on me.”

“That’s something at least,” I muttered. “Does that mean you’ll let me work with you now?”
“Yes, it does. We don’t usually need two physicians, but we certainly need a back up, as well

as someone who can deal with emergencies. You can teach me what recent techniques I don’t
know and I can teach you good old fashioned doctoring.”

She gave me some texts to read, but told me that I should concentrate on the shields.
As I stood to leave, I asked, “Any word from Kir?”
“No, but that’s not unusual.” The tightening of her mouth gave a slight lie to her words,

though. “We’d get reports from his field contact if there was a problem. It’s how he works—
alone.”

“By choice or by necessity?”
“A little of both.” She pushed her glasses back. “You’ve made progress on more than the

shields. Your anger is muted.”

“I can’t sustain the rage. I don’t want to. I feel I ought to, but...how sick is it to want my

rapist? I even ended up liking Ganwe, in a strange kind of way. I didn’t hate him either, and I
should have. Does that mean there’s something wrong with me? There’s a name for that kind of
thing, isn’t there?”

She nodded. “If you’re thinking of what we see in domestic violence cases, yes, but I don’t

believe that’s what’s happening here. I'm no psych, but in my inexpert opinion, it’s a much more
complex situation. There are similarities, of course. Ganwe and Kir were protectors as well as
abusers. It’s natural you would want them as allies, not enemies. But do you feel the same about
Kir as for Ganwe? Do you honestly believe the situations are the same?”

“They both raped me.”
“You were terrified of Ganwe. Appeasing him was the only way of staying safe. That was

never the case with Kir. Think, Jodi.”

“I do little else these days.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “As Kir’s friend, I want you to accept him, let the pain go. As

your friend, I want the same. You don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen, or that it wasn’t wrong,
but he’s no Ganwe.”

“He keeps saying that too.”
“Because it’s true. Tell me, do you think Ganwe loses any sleep over what he does to people

like you? He’s trying to survive, but does he even regret the choices he makes to do that?” I
shook my head, knowing he didn’t. “Then maybe that’s the path you can follow to allow Kir to
make amends, and yourself to heal.”

“Did you forgive your abusers?”
“I...try very hard. I try to understand. It’s difficult when I know their excuse was simply

boredom, and the petty exercise of power over the powerless. The wantonness....” She drew in a
breath, and I put my hand on her wrist, seeing how much this cost her. “The cruelty is very hard
to understand or forgive.”

Kir had not been wanton, or cruel. “You’re a good person, Dede. Far better than me.”
“Just older, dear. Now, take it quietly and keep up the good work on those shields.”
I turned to go.

“You should come to the next greeting circle,” she said, rather abruptly.
“Why? I’m glad you and your friends like the feeling of communion, but it does nothing for

me. I don’t believe in your spirits, whatever Hermi says.”

“It’s not my spirits I’m concerned about. You have a soul which needs to be fed. I draw a lot

of comfort from Spiritism.”

“I don’t think I can. I'm sorry.”
She shrugged, mouth sad. I walked out, still very much adrift, and wishing that I could fool

myself into taking her advice. It would never work, though. I didn’t want my soul fed, I wanted
my brain occupied, my hands used for healing, not fire-making. And I wanted to know about Kir,
and Timo, and what the hell was going on in Vizinken.

~~~

I received no warning of his return. I walked into the living room for my lunch—which I had

taken to having early as a way of minimising my interactions with the others— and found Kir
taking his ease, sipping khevai and talking to Dede, Hermi, and Jeyle.

He turned as I came in, his expression uncertain, dark circles under weary brown eyes.
“Hey,” he said.
I stopped dead, my throat closing up. “Hi.” It surprised—shocked—me how pleased I was to

see him again.

“Won’t you join us?” Hermi said with a grave smile. “Kir was debriefing us, and it involves

you. Unless you’d rather wait for him to explain privately.”

Kir gave me no clues, so I walked over to the table. “Now is fine.” I took a seat. “Everything

went well?”

“Everything and everyone is fine,” Kir said. “In and out, slick and neat. Your friend doesn’t

know anything about.... Hey, you’ve got shields.” He frowned at me. “Thought you was gonna
wait for me to—”

“Wanted to surprise you,” I said. Jeyle sniffed. “They’re not finished.”
“No, I can tell. Good work, though.” He seemed pleased. Surprised, but pleased, which made

up a little for the tedium and frustration of the past three weeks. “It’s a bit strange not being able
to go straight into your mind though.” He tilted his head, and his mouth moved as if he wanted to
ask a question, then he stopped. “Um, are you okay with hearing this? It’s more shit about your
school.”

“I can deal with it. Go on.”
It annoyed me more that no one had told me he’d returned. I didn’t even know how long

he’d been sitting here without my knowing. I shot a look at Dede, but she gave nothing away.

“What did you find out?”
“It’s like we thought. Kregan’s shielding. Man, it’s a beautiful job too, but he slipped up a

couple of times while I was scanning— “

“How?” I wanted to know so I could avoid the mistake. “How did he slip up?”
Jeyle narrowed her eyes in impatience, but Hermi touched her hand and she said nothing.
“He’s good, really good, but it’s hard to keep it perfect all the time, see, and he wasn’t

expecting me to be watching so close. I sent a thought into his head about you, and he...didn’t
react. Nothing. When he should have. And then he passed a skimmer that was playing a news
item about paranormals and crime. Again, nothing. Not normal. He hid his real reaction, but
forgot to put up the camouflage, the fake reaction. But only those couple of times.”

“You still don’t know if he’s a paranormal.”
“No, but I bet he is. Anyway, I was telling everyone, I got a fifty percent success on your

school chums, Jodi. All blocked, same as you, in almost exactly the same ways and at the same
point in their lives.”

“Only fifty percent?”
“Cover,” Dede murmured.
I nodded. “So now what? And how many students does that mean? Are we only talking

about adults?”

Kir held up his hand. “Whoa. I got no idea about numbers. I tracked twenty—ten were

positives. I don’t know about the kids, because I ain’t been to the school.”

“This is not something for us to decide now,” Hermi said. “We need to consult with our

friends in the south, and all of us here. You should take things easy,” he said, laying his hand on
Kir’s arm, “When would you like to address a meeting?”

Kir rubbed his face tiredly. “Um...tomorrow? I want to hurry, but seriously, I’m wiped, and

it’s been going on for years. Another day won’t hurt no one—anyone—and Jeyle should send a
report down to Wesejne. I could write it up myself but you know how fast I’d do that.”

“Leave it to me,” Jeyle said. “Do you want lunch?”
“Nah. Later, maybe. I was kinda hoping to talk to Jodi.” Her mouth turned down in

disapproval as he looked at me. “You busy?”

The invitation surprised me. “Not really. Here? Daylight lounge?”
“Lounge.” I ignored Jeyle’s fierce glower. “Now? Or after you’ve had a chance to....” I

discreetly indicated our angry telekinetic and her lover.

“Nope, now. Talk to you guys later.”
He rose and took my arm in a firm-fingered grip, apparently quite determined that we would

talk, and talk now.

“They didn’t tell me you were back,” I murmured as we walked along the rock-walled

passages.

“No, I know. Pissed off about that.”
The lounge was empty, rather to my surprise—there were usually always a couple of people

enjoying the light and the pleasant atmosphere generated by the plants and the water features—

and I wondered if Kir had sent a message ahead. He said nothing about it, though, as he took up
his favourite position on a long sofa near the ferns. I sat in an armchair near him and wondered
what was on his mind.

He didn’t say anything, apparently content to simply look at me. It unnerved me somewhat,

but I let him scrutinise me. Finally he sighed and sat back.

“You and Jeyle still at it, I see.”
“You make it sound as if I'm deliberately provoking her.”
“No, I know you ain’t. Me and Hermi talked to her a bit about stuff. I hoped she might calm

down a bit.”

“Short of tranquilisers, I don’t think she’s likely to.”
He grunted in agreement, then rubbed his face again.
“Tired?”
“Oh yeah. Takes a lot of concentration, following a dozen minds all at once, trying not to

expose myself or the people I’m with. You physical talents got no idea.” He smiled, showing his
teeth. “Nice work with the shields. Seriously. I wasn’t expecting that.”

His eyes held the question. “I’ve been thinking about what Dede said. What you said. And...I

choose forgiveness.”

“Just like that?” Was that wariness or suspicion in his voice?
“No. It isn’t easy, Kir. I’ve spent a lot of time agonising, thinking, trying to understand.

Talking to Dede and Hermi. I thought the shields would give us both a rest.”

“I appreciate it. Thank you.”
Our gazes locked. There was so much more I wanted to say, so much I wanted to talk about,

but he was tired, and words were a blunt weapon. I didn’t trust either of us not to screw it up.

So I changed the subject. “Can you help me finish off my shields?”
He shook himself as if throwing off some unpleasant thought. “Sure. Day or two tops.

Actually, it’s kinda weird that you done that because...I think we’re gonna have to go in after this
Kregan guy. Might be good to have an option to bring you in on it.”

“And do what?”
He gave me a one-shouldered shrug. “That’s what everyone’s gotta talk about. Talk, talk,

talk.... I’ll end up doing what they tell me to, if I don’t decide to do something else.”

He slid down and swung his long legs onto the sofa, lying on his side so he could stare at me.

“You doing okay, Jodi? Least you can’t crap at me to pull it out of your head any more.”

“You could.”
“Too much fucking trouble. Are you?”
I looked at him, wondering if he wanted the truth or a comfortable lie. “No, not really.”
“Jeyle? You could’ve moved over the other side if she’s giving you too much shit.”
“No thanks. I’ll take honest loathing over hypocrisy any day.”

“You don’t like most of us, do you?”
“I don’t belong here, Kir. I haven’t been away from my old life long enough to consider this

any improvement. And I won’t ever be a Spiritist.”

He nodded. “We ain’t got a lot of choices to offer. You could stay in one of the other refuges

around the country, but they’re mostly Febkeinzes, or you could go to the Weadenal, but I don’t
think you’d like the Elected any better.”

“I don’t want to stay anywhere. I want to be doing something...I want to be fighting actively,

not sitting around for your big-dicked friends down in the Weadenal to come up with an answer.”

“Big-dicked?”
“Oh, fuck off, Kir.”
He laughed and snuggled down. He didn’t protest when I threw a pretty dark green knitted

blanket over him from the back of the sofa. “Thanks. Didn’t sleep much.”

“Was there something you wanted to talk to me about, that you brought me in here?”
He shot me a guilty glance. “Um...no. Not really. I just...it’s been a tough three weeks and I

wanted to talk to you. I know that’s taking advantage.”

“I can’t stay angry forever.”
“No.” He pulled the blanket around his shoulders. “You’re right—the shields help.”
“Good.” His eyes drifted shut. I’d have sat and watched him sleep except that was an

exercise in masochism. “Talk to you later.”

He grunted and curled further into the blankets. I waited a little longer until his breathing

deepened, then I slipped out. I still needed my lunch, though I would probably have to grab
something and take it to my bedroom if I wanted privacy.

Unfortunately, Dede, Hermi, and Jeyle were still there, talking. They fell silent as I

approached.

“He’s asleep,” I told them.
“It always takes a lot out of him,” Dede said, getting to her feet as I kept on my way to the

kitchen, hoping to avoid conversation with any of them. She murmured something about catching
us all later, and walked out.

I made a cheese and salad sandwich in the kitchen and poured some milk, setting it all on a

tray. When I came out, Jeyle glared at me, and I’d finally had enough. I set the tray down on the
table, then leaned on my hands towards her.

“What?”
She narrowed her eyes at me, her fingers clawing where they rested on the table. “What are

you doing, pretending to be friendly with him?”

“Jeyle, my love, be calm,” Hermi murmured. She ignored him.
“I’m not pretending anything,” I said. “He asked me to go with him to talk, so I did.”
“I wish so much we’d left you to rot in that jail.”

I closed my eyes and prayed to any passing deity for the strength to keep my temper.
“You people have had years to become used to what Kir does in your name. I’ve had weeks.

If I can try to restore something like friendship with someone I have every right to hate, then the
least you could do is be civil. I’ve had quite enough of your poor manners, Jeyle. Hermi, please
excuse me.”

Jeyle sneered and I turned to walk off.
Hermi called to me. “Jodi, please.”
“Let him go,” she snarled. “We don’t need him and neither does Kir. He’ll break my boy’s

heart like he did before.”

Outraged, I wanted to bellow back at her, but then I saw Hermi’s expression, pleading with

me. So I stopped and concentrated on what lay behind those irrational, angry words. “I doubt Kir
and I would ever have a relationship where that would be possible. Even if it was, it’s our
business, not yours. I'm not your cheating husband.”

She yelled in incoherent rage, but Hermi quickly embraced her, and though she struggled,

she was no match for his determination or his talent. “Now calm down,” he murmured. “Jodi,
please sit. We need to sort this out. Jeyle, please, my love. This can’t go on, it really can’t. It’s
hurting Kir and you and Jodi.” He kissed her cheek and cuddled her, but the tension in her body
scarcely diminished.

“You sound as if you wish Kir and I were at each other’s throats, rather than trying to

reconcile. It makes no sense,” I said.

Her eyes bored into me. “He doesn’t need more pain. Or betrayal.”
“The pain is not of my making. The betrayal....” I glanced around the room where normally a

dozen inhabitants would be lounging. “You know who betrayed him. Not me.”

“It was us,” Hermi said. “Jeyle, you know it’s true.”
“I never wanted this for him!”
“Nor I,” I said. “We’re on the same side and have the same goal. We shouldn’t be enemies. I

have no hate for you, or him. I’ve offered him my forgiveness. If we’re lucky, it might lead to
friendship. I offer you my forgiveness too, though I won’t ask for it from you.”

“You have a generous soul, Jodi,” Hermi said. “Jeyle, he’s not lying.”
She buried her face in his collar, her shoulders shaking as Hermi’s shirt failed to muffle the

desperate, sad sounds from his lover. As Hermi comforted her, he glanced my way. Poor sod,
caught between us.

“Why don’t I make you lunch?” I offered. “Sandwiches okay? What would you like?”
Hermi offered a couple of suggestions in a low voice and I figured I could work the rest out.

As I put together a generic, inoffensive meal of cheese sandwiches and a couple of little
vegetable pies left over from the night before, taking my time, I heard them murmuring to each
other. I very determinedly did not listen in.

When things fell quiet, I wandered out again. Hermi had his arm around Jeyle as I brought

the tray back in and set it down.

“I was saying that she won her bet with me, Jodi.”
“Huh?”
“That the percentage of students on scholarships at your school would be the same as those

who were paranormal.”

“Oh. I guess they needed to be sure we’d go there and nowhere else. But did Kregan do this

to protect people like me, or for some other reason?”

Jeyle cleared her throat, not meeting my look. “That’s what you’ll need to find out,” she said,

her voice rusty and faint. “Kir wants you to go with him to confront Kregan. I think it’s a bad
idea.” She flicked quickly at one reddened eye, but then she sat up and tried to appear calm.

I responded as if she’d succeeded. “I think it’s something we should talk about. Do you think

confronting Kregan is a bad idea, or me going with Kir?”

She made an effort to be friendly and reasonable, which I appreciated more than she knew.

Talking to me humiliated and hurt her and likely benefited no one but me, but she still did it. I did
my best to be fair and objective and avoid anything that might trigger her hostility or fear. Other
people drifted in for their lunch, which helped a little.

Dede returned and did a double-take to see us talking. She joined us for khevai and without

prompting, began to discuss what Kir had said about the fault in Kregan’s shielding. Without
such a shield herself, it was only theoretical. Jeyle had the practical experience, and Dede and I
learned a lot from her.

By the time Kir staggered out two hours later, the armed truce had relaxed somewhat. While

I prepared lunch for him, he spoke to the others, who drew him into the discussion about
shielding, the theory and the application. As I came out with the food, Dede was telling Kir that
my own efforts had spurred her to try once again to destroy her self-made opaque shields so she
could set up the subtler version, but had failed.

“Do you think it’s hardwiring? Like the difference between long and short term memory?” I

asked.

“Very likely, though we have almost no idea how shielding works so far as the brain itself is

concerned.”

“Then maybe you could do it with the help of psychogenic drugs. Kir, you said some drugs

broke shields.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Yeah, but they’re fucking brutal, Jodi. I’d never want Dede to do that

unless it was life or death, and it ain’t. Not yet.”

“And once the shields come down, they’re very difficult to erect again—if they’re forced

down, I mean,” Dede said. “You can use some euphorics to lower their strength—a powerful
telepath can force their way past them in that case—but if you remove them completely, the

experience from the Weadenal is that the person remains unshielded, except in exceptional cases.
People who are highly trained cope better.”

I looked at Kir. “Is that true for your shields too?”
“Pretty much. I think I’m trained enough to rebuild them. I hope I’ll never find out.”
I grimaced. “Me too. Dede, I know your objections to the drugs, but it might be worth

carrying out some experiments with the safer ones, if you really want to convert to the transparent
shields.” I laughed. “Listen to me—I know all the terms now.” Even Jeyle smiled at that.

“Might be worth a try. Yes, I’ll ask Kateju about it.”
“Still don’t want you going out in the field with me, Dede,” Kir said, his mouth stubborn.
“I know you don’t, sweetie, but at least in theory I could back you up.”
“That’s how I feel,” I said. “I don’t know if I can actually help, but I want to be able to, if it’s

possible.”

Under the table, Kir patted my leg, and I smiled at him. “It all helps,” he said. “Thanks, guys.

Hermi, maybe we should talk about this tonight? I’m feeling okay. So long as it’s not a late
meeting.”

“If it looks like it’s running on too long, I’ll postpone the discussion. I think to talk about it

now would be useful. But you get some more rest.”

“I was gonna work in my shop, actually. Want to get my hands on some wood.”
Dede giggled, and Kir gave her a disgusted look, which set me off. Jeyle smiled a little more

genuinely, and Hermi relaxed. Things had gone better than I could have hoped for. For the first
time since I’d been freed from prison, I didn’t feel like an alien.

Jeyle and Hermi went off to do whatever they did in their own time. Kir suggested that he

and I finished off the work I had been doing on the shields, and Dede asked if she could ‘watch’.
We retreated to the daylight lounge again—Kir said he’d been doing so much night work, he
hadn’t seen much of the sun at all. At that remark I set a fireball above their heads, small, bright
and yellow, and he grinned.

“Been practicing?”
“Every day. It feels good.” I made the little ball of light disappear.
“Yeah,” he agreed rather wistfully. “Telepathy’s nothing like it. I wish I’d been born a TK.

I’d have squished some people instead of letting them drag me off to prison.”

“They’d have threatened your family,” Dede said. “How do you think they rounded everyone

up?”

“Yeah, I know, I was kidding. But I’d squish a few of ‘em now, if I could.” He gave her a

bright grin, but I doubted he felt as cheerful as he seemed. “Right, Jodi. Let’s take a look at your
head.”

I supposed the idea should have disturbed me, but Kir had had months to learn all my dirty

little secrets so I doubted he learned anything new. At last he pronounced himself happy, and

handed me over to Dede to test. She was also content. I felt quite smug, really, considering how
much Jeyle thought I would fail.

“Okay. Couple of things,” Kir said when she announced her assessment.
Suddenly I stood up, and balanced on one leg, my hand on my head. “What the...Kir!”
But he didn’t let me go. “That? Is to prove my point. The shield ain’t a shield, it’s a cloak. It

ain’t no protection at all.” I found myself able to stand normally. “Jodi, punch Dede.”

“No!” But to my horror, my fist drew back and however much I fought it, I could feel my

muscles bunching. Only at the very last mycsec, when I was sure my hand was about to connect
despite my desperate struggle, did he release me. I leapt away from both of them. “Damn you,
Kir!”

Dede scowled ferociously, though which of us had displeased her, I didn’t know. Kir showed

no reaction to my anger at all.

“Sorry, but I had to show you, because you’d never believe me and then you’d get all cocky.

A telepath—minor, major—can still manipulate you, Jodi. All the shield does is keep you off
their radar. But they can mindfuck you, and an empath can still read you. You’re defenceless.”

“Like hell,” I growled, and he reared back as a ball of flame appeared in front of his nose,

just as quickly vanishing. Now I’d properly horrified Dede. “Don’t ever do that again.”

He turned cold eyes on me, utterly unafraid. “I won’t have to, I hope. ‘Less you throw one of

them things at me again and I’ll knock you out.”

“You’re welcome to try.”
“Gentlemen, could you put them back in your pants, please?” Dede glared at us both.

“Neither of you is going to hurt the other or I’ll knock you both out. Jodi, sit down, please. Kir’s
not finished.”

I obeyed though I kept a wary eye on him. “Now what—shit!” I clutched at my head,

bending over my knees with the sudden, knifelike pain. “Stop!” I gasped.

Just as suddenly, the pain ceased, though my head continued to throb. I dragged myself

upright and snarled at Kir. “What the fuck did you do that for?”

“When you were six, you stole a packet of sweets from the store in your settlement. You

never told anyone, not even Timo. But when you were twelve, you left the price of the packet on
the counter because you’d lived with the guilt all those years and wanted to fix it.”

I gaped at him. He gazed back unblinkingly. “I punched through your shields. That’s why it

hurt. They’re not strong enough yet. So you need to keep working on it until I can’t get through
them, doing that.”

“Did you have to do it so painfully?”
“Yes, he did,” Dede said, giving Kir’s arm a quick sympathetic rub. “It’s the only way to test

the strength of shields. Most people here haven’t allowed it.”

“In your case, I gotta do it. Sorry I didn’t warn you.”

“You—”
He held up his hand to silence me. “You’re already wary of telepaths, Jodi. I want you to be

scared to death of them, what they can do, but in the right way. There’s tricks I can teach you,
give you more protection. I ain’t the enemy. The enemy’s a lot worse. You get caught by the
Nats, and they will be nasty. If they pump you full of naksen again, you can’t even fight back.”

His face was solemn, his eyes still cold. Was he using me again? Nothing in his expression

told me if he’d read that thought. “Warning me would have been fairer.”

“Yeah. But not as effective. We’re in a war. It ain’t no kids’ playground.”
“But I’m not an idiot. I would have listened.”
Kir shrugged, then got up. “You need to keep working on your shields. I’m going to my

workshop.”

And then he walked out. I went to follow, but Dede put her hand on my arm.
“You’re angry.”
“Yes, I am. You know why.”
“Yes. Kir’s terrified for you, Jodi. No one of us, except for Jeyle, really understands the risks

he takes. He wanted you to have a taste of what he faces every time he goes out.”

My head still throbbed unmercifully, my stomach churning queasily from the after-effects of

adrenaline. Kir had taken a risk—not that he would harm me, but that I would hate him forever
for doing that. That was how important it was to him.

“Can we work on my shields some more, or are you busy?”
Her smile told me I’d made the right response. “Not too busy. Now. Concentrate.”
An hour later, and having had a painkiller for the headache and khevai to fortify myself, I

walked down to Kir’s workroom. He said nothing as I slipped into the room and took up a seat on
the old stool by the wall.

He was making a chair out of the same pale wood I’d seen in many pieces around the place,

and I realised from the style that much of the furniture I’d seen here—all the stuff in my room,
certainly—had been made by him. Watching him was like watching my father in his workshop,
though Da used to play with electronics and machines. Both had the same easy confidence in
their tools, big hands manipulating things with skill. The total concentration, the sureness of
touch, and the way they made order out of chaos. Kir thought his talent was the most amazing
thing about him. To me, this ability was far more magical.

“You patched up the shield pretty good,” he said suddenly, after many minutes of complete

silence, apparently ignoring me.

“Thanks. Please don’t hit it again today. My head hurts enough.”
He grunted, but didn’t apologise. Didn’t even seem interested in my presence, except he

hadn’t told me to leave. I took that as a workman’s privilege, and was content to watch. I found it
restful here. I could see why Kir ran to this place when he felt stressed or under threat. The clean,

intense smell of the wood, the oil on the tools, the soft snick-hiss of the plane and the squeaking
of dowels, felt comforting, homey, even though they’d not been part of my home at all.

“Who’s the chair for?”
He looked up. “You. It’s the other half of the pair for your room. If you don’t like them, I

can make a different design. You wasn’t around to ask, but I got lots of ideas for them.”

“No, they’re lovely. I, um...shouldn’t have threatened you.”
“No. But I pushed you, pushed you hard, and you knew how far to go. The control, it’s

important. PKs can be real scary if you lose that.”

“I still find it hard to remember you’re talking about me when you talk about ‘PKs’. I have to

remind myself I’m a paranormal too.”

“That’s the difference between you and the rest of us.” He shrugged. “It’s in our bones. We

can’t forget. You might never accept it. Makes life hard for you.”

“Kir, if Timo...if you removed the block on his talent for some reason, to let him decide if he

wanted to use it—say it was safe—could you put the block back?”

He frowned. “Dunno, really. If I was the guy that done it, maybe. It’s kinda...pathways,

methods, and stuff. We’re all different. Like, I could put the blocks back on your memories, but
Dede would find it hard to make it fit the same way. The edges would show.” He pointed to the
chair under construction. “Like, I cut a piece to fit this way round, and it kinda looks the same as
the piece for the other side, but because it ain’t exact, you’d always see a gap, something sticking
out.”

“So the answer is, probably not.”
“Yeah. But the Weadenisis know more about it than me, cos they do it a lot. I never learned

cos it’s not something I need to do. Your man, Kregan, learned it, I think.”

“Did you investigate his brother? Could he be the paranormal?”
“He’s shielded, I’m pretty sure. But see, why would Kregan be there at all if he’s not the

spook? The chances of both of them being paras is like this.” He held up two fingers with
absolutely no space between them. “Only way to know is to split him open. I just got through
explaining what’s involved in that. If we do that, we expose ourselves. I can cover our tracks but
then we still have to decide about all the secret paras.”

He sighed and stood up, cracked his back, and then set the half-finished chair, covered with

jigs, upright. “Needs to set.”

He glanced at me then, and for the merest second his eyes exposed his naked emotions. He

wasn’t anything like as calm as he pretended.

“I missed you,” I said. “I was worried.”
“Worried about your friends.”
“That too.”
Kir picked up the tools he’d been using and carried them over to the storage rack on the wall.

With his back to me, he said, “You did good with Jeyle, whatever you did.”

“I, uh, found out she expects me to betray you. She thinks things between us are going

where...well, where they probably won’t go.”

“Because you don’t trust me.”
“I'm working on it. But you don’t trust me either. That’s why you didn’t bother asking for

my permission before you attacked me.”

Kir clenched his hands on a hanging saw, almost seeming like he was suspended against the

wall. “In bed, it’s great with you. But it’s like the blowjob thing for you. You can know all you
want I won’t hurt you, still won’t let you take my cock in your mouth—”

“Kir, I tried—”
“Ain’t my point, Jodi.” He turned around. “It’s what’s in your head and in your heart. I want

you, you know I want you. You know I want to be with you, and I know part of you wants that
too. But you don’t trust me not to hurt you. I do something that startles you and you light a
fireball under my nose.”

“You said you wanted me to be scared of telepaths,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Yeah. Don’t want you to be scared of me though.”
“You’re being unfair.”
“Yeah, I am. Cos I’m fucked up. You’re fucked up. If I could...if we could get past the fear,

then...we’d be good. Great. But I can’t. Like you and blowjobs.” He walked over to me, stood toe
to toe with me, his dark eyes searching mine. “I want you, but you scare me.”

“Yes. Same here. Where are we going with this, Kir?”
“You’re asking me? Damned if I know.”
“Could we...at least aim for friendship?”
He gave me a brilliant smile. “Sure.” He took my hand. “Thank you,” he whispered, resting

his cheek against it.

My heart lifted a little more.

Chapter Thirteen

They held the meeting—not a greeting circle, fortunately—immediately after supper, in our

side of the refuge. Hermi chaired, Jeyle reported Kir’s findings. It was clearly news to most of
them, and I realised then that most of them had very little to do with the actual covert operations.
Or perhaps didn’t want to know about them.

“How many paranormals are we talking about?” Ronwe asked.
“If Kir is right in his surmise, at least ten. Extrapolating from the records we got from the

school, we could be looking at as many as a hundred. That’s adults. Children...who knows.”

An excited murmuring rippled around the table. “So,” Lonin said, “will we bring them all

here?”

“Why would you do that?” I blurted out. As I hadn’t met some of them before, and had never

spoken to the whole group, I caused some surprise. Hermi nodded to me, so I continued.
“They’re all in their happy lives. Why disturb them, if you don’t have a purpose. It’ll only cause
misery.”

“But if so many respectable citizens were suddenly revealed to be paranormals, if they went

to the President,” someone else said. “It might make a difference.”

“Noret and his thugs would stop that happening,” Jeyle said. “Even if we had a thousand

examples to show him.”

“Then deal with Noret,” I said. “Kill him if necessary.” The room fell into a horrified silence

as every eye fixed on me. “Seems to me you’ve been dancing around the solution to your
situation for years. You’ve got the power to change things by force. Why don’t you? Kir, Dede,
you could make the politicians do whatever you want.”

Ferige, Kir’s pyrokinetic friend, glared at me. “Young man, that’s not how we do things.”
“Yes, and I can see how well it’s all turned out for you, living inside a rock. If you want to

wake up these hundred paranormals, then do it for a reason. Showing the president how harmless
you are is only going to get you stomped on.”

“We could ask for a sanctuary to be officially set up. An enclave,” someone said. “Apart but

autonomous.”

“You mean, a nice big prison where they can come pick you off when they need you?”
Hermi frowned at me, and Kir touched my arm. Why are you pushing?
Why not? They want things to be all sweet and tidy, but they don’t care if your hands get

dirty.

“We don’t believe in violence,” Dede said, but mildly.
“No, but they do. Did they or did they not drag you from your homes, forcibly drug you,

shove you into prison to be raped and beaten and abused, and take your families from you? And
you’re suggesting that you offer alienation to these unsuspecting bastards so you can give the
government a chance to do it all over again?” I stood up. “The first time, they used your families
against you. What are they going to threaten you with now?”

People looked at each other, some confused, some angry, many fearful. Hermi coughed.

“The Weadenisis—”

“Have their own country to protect. You people have been hiding here for nine years. What

the hell are you waiting for? You’ve got potentially twice your number waiting to ally with you.
The time for timidly begging favours from the powers that be is over. Either accept you’re
rodents in a cage, or live like humans. Not halfway.”

“If we threaten, we have to be prepared to carry out those threats.” Uliem shot a look at Kir

who glared back. “Are you, Arwe Jodi?”

“If someone tries to take me back to prison, they’re going to end up burnt to a crisp. I don’t

believe in killing. I don’t believe in being a victim either. If they force the choice, I’ll fight. I’m
not living the rest of my life here.”

“Then go!” someone shouted. “If you despise us so much, go. Run to the Weadenal, if you

want to be free and don’t care about this country or us.”

I turned to the angry man who’d yelled at me. “I care about this country. I care about

paranormals, and people. But this is no way to live.”

“Jodi, what do you propose we do? We can hardly storm the Presidential residence and take

hostages.” Hermi, reasonable and calm, as always.

I ran my hand over my short hair and sighed. “First of all we need to confirm how many

paranormals are being concealed, and then we need to know why. Someone’s got a plan for them.
If it’s Kregan, he’s clever. He could be an ally. He could be an enemy. We don’t know. Kir, I’m
going in with you to question him.”

He frowned again, this time in concern. “Your shields ain’t ready.”
“Then we wait until they are. I’m not sitting here again while you put your life on the line.

You go with backup. That’s me.” I said it to him but I looked at the others as I spoke. “You’re all
waiting for someone else to fix your lives for you. The Weadenisis rescued you from prison and
instead of saying, okay, now this is our chance to reclaim our rights, you’ve sat here in your
luxury and done nothing. Out there,” I waved, “thousands of minor paranormals are living in hell.
Do you help them?”

“We help many of them escape,” a woman said indignantly. “We’ve prepared dozens of false

identities.”

“Dozens.” I sighed. “You don’t know how bad it’s become. I do. I was there less than a year

ago. Women your age offering themselves for medical experiments to get a few weeks off
naksen, for a warm bed and decent meals. A man my father’s age....” I clenched my fist. “Killing

himself because it was better than a life with nothing but degradation and pain. I don’t want to
help a few dozen. I want to help them all, and I want my old life back, damn it!”

They didn’t want to hear it. I proposed the disturbance of their safe, easy existence, and

running the risk of going back to prison. I knew why it scared them. I didn’t know why using the
amazing powers we had appalled them so.

I sat down and Hermi stood. “Everyone, Jodi is speaking his mind as is his right. I think,

personally, he’s made a very good point—that we do need to know who is behind this and why.
As you know, I also believe that Kir has put himself at risk time and again for us, so if Jodi wants
to support him, I support Jodi. But I can’t support violence, Jodi—nor killing. If my personal
safety is to be won at the cost of mass slaughter, I would rather cut my throat and be done with
it.”

I started to protest, but he held up his hand. “The safety of innocents who can’t protect

themselves is another matter. I know some of you disagree this is a valid reason, but there are
circumstances which justify actions I would normally condemn. Kir, nothing I said is a criticism
of you, you understand that, don’t you?”

Kir gave him a weak smile. “Yeah, we’re good. I don’t want no slaughter neither. People

already hate us.”

“Exactly. Jodi, your anger’s justified, but we need a solution we can live with.”
“Like what?” Kir laid a hand on my leg and I patted it.
“That’s to be decided.” I frowned at Hermi impatiently, but he only smiled back at me as if I

was a beloved but occasionally impetuous child. “Jodi’s spoken. Anyone else have an opinion
they’d like to share?”

Two hours later, after a good deal of heated discussion and charged emotions, Kir stood

quite suddenly, his eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkling. “Sorry. I—”

He pushed his chair back with a screech of wood on stone and then walked away. Jeyle

started to rise, but Hermi put his hand on her arm then looked at me. “Jodi, please?”

I needed no other urging and didn’t apologise as I got up and walked quickly after Kir. He

sent no message to tell me to stop, so I took that as assent to follow him.

He’d headed for his workshop again. As I came in, I found him sitting on a stool, his

expression blank. I went to him and put my arms around him, and he didn’t resist, his head
against my stomach.

“I just...sometimes I get the urge to smack people,” he murmured. “Really smack, not

like....”

“Metaphorically? I understand. I don’t know how you bear it.”
“Mostly I don’t. We don’t usually talk about stuff that much. Every so often, sure...but they

don’t know much about what I do. Don’t want to know, most of them.”

“So I gathered.” I combed my fingers through his thick, black hair, hoping he found the

motion soothing. “This is an opportunity, Kir. How can they talk about pissing it away?”

“I thought you wanted to protect all them poor innocent paras.”
“I do. But maybe the best way of protecting them is to change society. I don’t want to die

inside this mountain. I’d rather die fighting the army than endure that.”

“Enough with that. Between you and Hermi, there’s been too much talk about killing

yourselves.”

“Sorry.” I crouched down, and then clutched the front of his shirt in my hand. “Will you take

me with you? I know you want to.”

“If your shields are strong enough. We don’t know what Kregan is, but I’m betting he’s a

TP. That’s what that demonstration was about this afternoon.” He closed his eyes and by the way
he winced, I knew he had a headache.

“Up.” I hauled him up by his shirt. “You need to go to bed. Hermi should have shut that

meeting down an hour ago.”

“Yeah, but people was talking....”
“No excuse. Go on.”
But he stopped me removing my hand from his shirt. “Jodi...can I sleep with you? Just sleep?

I don’t want it to mean— “

“It won’t. And yes.”
And I was truly glad he couldn’t read my mind any more and hoped my self-control was up

to it.

~~~

In the end, he fell asleep rather quickly, and I found his warm, strong body wrapped around

me more soothing than anything else. A comfort that made the walls less oppressive, and for a
change, I spent the night in my own bed and not on the sofa.

Better rested, and with a chance to mull over all the discussion, Kir waded enthusiastically

into the breach the following day. Finally everyone present—by no means all the residents—
agreed that he, Jeyle, and I would confront Kregan in Vizinken, a task which required not only
my personal preparation, but more strategic planning.

The meeting broke up, but the discussion wasn’t over. Hermi wanted to call yet another

meeting to get the whole group to agree to possible tactics, and Jeyle finally lost her temper.

“Bloody hell, Hermi. These people couldn’t agree on how much soap powder to order for the

laundry! Jodi knows this man, Kir can handle himself, and I’ll be there as backup. The others
have been content to sit on their bottoms for all this time, they can continue to do so.”

“But we’re a collective, my love.”
“A mad house,” she muttered. “No. I’m putting my foot down.”
“And if Wesejne objects?”
“Wesejne doesn’t live here,” I said. “It’s our country. Our problem. My problem.”

“That’s what worries me, Jodi. You’re making it personal.”
“Damn right. Jeyle? You and Kir can handle what you need to. I need to speak to Dede

about...you know.”

“Go on. If she argues with you, tell her to speak to me.”
I was glad not to be on the receiving end of Jeyle’s baleful look for a change.
Dede, rather to my surprise, refused to be part of it in any way. “No, Jodi, it’s unethical.”
“And drugging people with naksen for no therapeutic reason is?”
“I was never involved in that. You could kill him.”
“Which is why I want your advice about how to do it safely.”
“No. Don’t ask me again.” She turned away from me, her back stiff with disapproval. “And

Jeyle needn’t bother trying to bully me. I won’t agree no matter what she says.”

“All right. Don’t be angry, Dede.”
“I’m not. I want to cling to what’s left of my professional pride. They took so much....”
I put my hand on her shoulder and she patted it, her back still turned to me. “I’m a coward,”

she muttered.

“No. I’m sorry to put you in this position. We’ll work something out.”
I found Kir in his workroom, and told him. He accepted her refusal philosophically. “Meram

will help. Tell me what you need, we’ll run it past the guys in the Weadenal, and he can line it all
up for us. And then you need to be ready, heart and mind. It’s gonna sting, facing him. Did last
time, didn’t it?”

“Last time,” I said coldly, “I thought I was dealing with a friend.”
“Maybe you were. Don’t prejudge, Jodi. Makes you careless.”
I did what I could to prepare, physically and mentally. Every day Kir tested my shields, and

every evening I went to bed with a lingering headache.If this mission failed, and I didn’t find a
way to escape to a normal life in Pindone, then I’d have to think very hard about letting them
wipe my memory and send me to the Weadenal. I didn’t want to do that. I’d lose the little I had
scraped back for myself, even if I’d tainted that small amount by my actions. But I couldn’t see
me spending another year on this rock. I’d go stark staring mad.

It took slightly more than a week to prepare. When my shields finally reached Kir’s exacting

standards, we still had to wait for Meram to obtain the supplies we needed. Then we headed back
down the highway through a bitterly cold spring landscape to Vizinken, and to Meram and
Terna’s tidy little house. I was better prepared this time for the impact of being back in the city,
but it still ached, especially seeing it in the spring in all its cold, crowded beauty. Vizinken could
be such a handsome town. The distant mountains didn’t feel as welcoming and never would.

When we arrived, we found Meram wound up and anxious. Obtaining the drugs had been a

risky and unpleasant business, but that hadn’t upset him as much as the direct confrontation with
someone so highly placed in the security service.

“You’re risking all of us,” he said, as Terna sat grim-faced at his side. “What if you fail?”
“Then you initiate the lockdown,” Jeyle said, “and get the hell out of this country.”
Terna’s eyes glanced around her lovely, welcoming home, lingered on the pictures of her

children, her happy family. “I know you’ve all faced it, been through it...but to lose
everything....”

“We won’t fail,” Kir said. “Have I ever let you down?”
She gave him a tremulous smile and said no, he hadn’t. But that was the only smile we saw

from either of them that evening. None of us could raise a grin, for sure.

Kir had already done the reconnaissance. Kregan, like all senior officials in National

Security, had personal protection and a house covered with surveillance devices. The knowledge
of what these devices were and how to circumvent them was all in the heads of people like
Kregan’s wife, Nuela, and thus open to Kir’s probing. That weak link made our job a little easier
but still risky. If we didn’t return or report within two hours, Meram, Terna, and their children
would make a run for it—and I didn’t blame him at all.

Kregan lived outside Vizinken, on an old farm estate converted to luxurious homes for the

wealthy and influential. The security would have been tight anyway, given the kind of people
who lived there, but he had an extra layer of protection. However, the estate security hadn’t been
created with telekinetics in mind, and we simply sailed over the code-locked gates and the tall
brick fence. All the alarms had been designed to catch intruders coming in by foot. Twenty-five
years of repression had blunted the wariness about paranormals, and we could use that to our
advantage.

We landed in an exquisitely landscaped garden—Kregan’s pride and joy. I took some savage

pleasure in using that against him too. Jeyle delicately subverted the elaborate door locks and
sensors, then we entered a house I knew nearly as well as my own, so often had I been a favoured
guest. A friend. I gritted my teeth and silently pointed the route to the bedroom.

Kregan and Nuela lived alone, their children long grown up and with families of their own.

Still, Kir probed to check no one else was in residence.

Okay, let’s do it.
Kir would ensure neither Kregan nor Nuela would wake until we were ready, but we still

crept quietly along to the tastefully decorated bedroom, guided by the light of the small torches
we carried.

We found husband and wife slumbering, completely unaware. Kir beckoned me to Kregan’s

side. Do it.

And this was what had caused Dede so much anguish, and Meram so much difficulty. A

single dose of naksen, taken from a volunteer paranormal’s arm, and putting them at risk of
prosecution and withdrawal. If the cause weren’t so important, I’d be revolted by my actions, but
I put the hypoinjector against Kregan’s neck with not a twinge of conscience. The bastard had

done the same to me, and with less reason.

Kir waited for the dose to take effect, then nodded. Waking him up now. Jeyle, stand back in

the shadows, okay? He don’t need to get a good look at us. Jodi, hit the light.

I switched on the bedside lamp. A couple of seconds later, Kregan’s eyes opened, his

instinctive attempt to cry out stillborn by Kir’s will.

As we’d agreed, I took charge of things then, using Kir’s talent to communicate

telepathically with my old employer. You can’t call for help, Kregan, don’t even try. And you’ve
been dosed with naksen so whatever talent you’ve got, won’t work.

His eyes darted to me. Jodi!
Hi, boss. Long time no see.
But how...who are these people? What are you doing in my bedroom? And why the naksen

for Marra’s sake?

Oh please, stop acting, Kregan. We know about the school and your brother and what you

did to me and Timo and the others. We’re not here to listen to lies.

I held up the second hypospray. Ready? I asked Kir. He nodded again, so I put it against

Kregan’s neck and pressed the button. He flinched as he felt the sting.

That’s duprazanin. In a minute or so, it will let my friend here get behind your shields and

extract everything he needs. If you want the process to go quickly and smoothly —I glanced at
Nuela, unaware and sleeping at his side —you’ll tell us what we want to know.

His eyes had already started to water, and a tic had sprung up in his cheek—the naksen’s grip

on him was complete. And what do you want to know?

I was immune to his trying to glare at me from a position of absolute weakness, but surprised

at how enraged the attempt made me.

Why have you been concealing paranormals?
He was slow to respond, but the duprazanin together with the naksen would be making him

sleepy. Finally he answered. To...protect you.

You threw me to Noret!
It was...too late for you, Jodi. I warned...warned you I couldn’t protect you...if you stepped

out of line.

You helped him. You would have helped him force me to work for him.
I did what I could, but once he found out...became part of public record, I couldn’t help you.
So you and your brother have been saving us? For what? Don’t tell me you were building an

army and never intended to use it.

He took so long to answer I nearly shook him, but finally he did. I’ve been planning for a

very long time, Jodi. When the time was right, I’d have revealed your talent to you, and then all
of you would help to change the government and what it’s been doing.

How?

Noret’s hoarding paranormals—he wants a cure no more than you do. He wants to build an

army and I plan to stop him. But there aren’t enough of you.

How many? Kir demanded.
Kregan didn’t answer. I reached down and this time I did shake him. How many, Kregan?

And who?

Kir didn’t wait for the reply. He’s got them listed...on his viewcom. Jeyle, here’s the

password. Log in and write down the information, can you?

She went to the viewcom concealed in a cupboard at the other side of the room, pulled up a

chair and commenced work.

I stared at my former boss. How many? I repeated.
A hundred and five. Kir grinned at me in triumph at Kregan’s answer. But that’s not enough.
How many is enough? Two hundred? Three hundred? It’s enough. I say it’s enough because

it’s not the numbers, it’s the will. How many like you are hiding in the government ranks? How
many telepaths?

Four. But we can’t move yet, Jodi. You can’t change a society from the top down.
Why the hell not? Kir asked. They did it twenty-five years ago. We can do it now.
I won’t help you. You’ll bring disaster on all of us.
You’d rather watch thousands of our kind drugged and abused, than risk your precious

skin? I shouted at him through the mind link. I say, if you won’t help, then you’ll suffer anyway.
Which grandchild would you like to lose, Kregan? Which daughter shall have her house burned
down around her family’s ears?

He sneered at me. You? You’re too soft to kill. You said so to Noret.
His hands flew up in horror as a bright sword of cold flame lanced towards his eyes. I held it

unwaveringly a mere half-midec from his face as he cringed back, afraid of the fiery horror in
front of him. A lot of things have changed since then, Kregan. Oh yes, I’d kill to win this battle.
Kill you, them...her. The sword moved to hover a midec from the unconscious woman beside
him. You have a lot of family to get through before we’d have to kill you.

Please...no. Not Nuela. Jodi, she’s innocent, she knows nothing—
Innocent? You’re pleading innocence? What about Neim? What about those beggars we

walked past to get into the office? What about the people dying of cancer and liver failure
because of naksen and jozidem? What crime have they committed? No, Kregan, there’ll be no
mercy based on innocence.

You better believe him, Mas Kregan, Kir said. Cos if he don’t kill you, I will. You ain’t

dealing with no kindly Spiritist here. Your wife? Drives her veecle much, does she? Easy to make
her miss a corner and hit something coming the other way. Real easy. No one would ever know.
‘Cept you.

The pupils of Kregan’s bicoloured eyes were enlarged from the drugs, so the bright light

would be blinding him, but he squinted up at me with pure hate in his expression. So this is how
you’ve learned to negotiate, Jodimai. Through threats and violence. His mental voice was
sluggish, but the scorn was clear enough.

This is how I’ve learned to make you take me seriously, Kregan. Work with us, or we destroy

you and your family. Kir, you have the names of the other telepaths now?

Yep. We don’t need you, Kregan. But we can’t leave you hanging around if you’re not

helping. You choose.

This has to be done carefully! Damn you, I’ve laid this down for so long, you think I want

you to come in and wreck my work?

We don’t want to wreck it, we want to hasten it. Massively.
There’s public opinion to consider—
Yeah. Kir’s mental voice dripped with contempt. You and your friends spent all these years

shoving lies down people’s throats. You can use your power to do the opposite now.

Tell the truth about the effect of naksen, I said, standing side by side with Kir as I made the

flaming sword disappear. Kregan flinched most satisfyingly at that. End compulsory tattooing.
End the imprisonment and discrimination. Noret and his thugs persuaded people it was
necessary once, they can unpersuade them now. You have the ability. You just don’t have the
balls.

We don’t have the numbers.
How many telepaths?
Fifty-two.
More than enough. We have access to another twenty, more if we need them. Like I said,

with us or against us.

I leaned in, igniting a little fireball near my face so Kregan had a damn good view of my

nasty smile. Ganwe had taught me a thing or two about intimidation. You don’t want to be
against us, Kregan, you really don’t. For a start, we’ll take your hidden paranormals and bring
them to our cause. We’ll expose you—and I don’t think you’d like prison very much. That nasty
taste in your mouth? The twitching? The way your brain feels like it’s made of jelly? Think you’d
enjoy that? Or days of withdrawal when the others steal your dose? No, I don’t think you would.
That’s if the government even let you live, considering what you’ve been hiding.

I’ll bring you all down with me!
I smiled wider. Got to catch me first. Jeyle?
All done.
Kir took over. We’ll be fair. Give you time to think about it. Gotta let all that shit out of your

system, though you’re gonna feel pretty sick tomorrow. In three days, I’ll be in contact. I’ll be
monitoring you and your family, people you work with, the whole time, so don’t even think about
trying to blab to no one. Three days, you give me your answer. With us or against us. But I

promise you, I will take you down if you’re against us. It’s over, Kregan. The game’s over—
we’re playing by new rules now.

I...I don’t need to think about it. Kregan glanced at his wife. I agree.
Does he? I asked Kir.
Yeah, for now anyway. ‘Course, I could make him, but it should be his choice, free and

clear.

Kregan roused himself enough to sit up on his elbows, though the shaking made it hard for

him. I stepped on the twitch of sympathy, reminding myself I owed him nothing any more. You
threaten my family and it’s a choice?

It amused me a little to hear the moral outrage. To think I’d once admired this man and his

apparently strong ethical centre. All a sham.

Sure, I said. It’s just not a very pleasant one. Welcome to my reality, Kregan. And don’t

think any of us will trust you, or that you can trick us. You don’t know how many of us are here,
where we are, or what we can do. We’re watching you and yours. You have your secret army, we
have ours.

He slumped back onto the bed. Jodi, I’m not your enemy.
You’re not my friend and never will be. I trusted you. You let me be sent to hell on earth.

Nothing you can do will make up for that.

I’m sorry. There was too much at risk.
Shut up.
I turned my back on him, the stench of betrayal too strong to stomach.
We left not long after that, once Kir had carefully fudged Kregan’s memories to blur his and

Jeyle’s faces and names. Me, Kir left bright and clear. That I was a paranormal and on the loose
was no secret to Noret. The others, we wanted to protect in case Kregan went back on his word. I
didn’t trust him any more.

My hands shook all the way back to Meram’s house.
Safely inside, we found a relieved and delighted Meram still awake. “Will it be all right, do

you think?”

I didn’t know, but Jeyle stepped into the breach. “Yes, it will, Meram. We’ll do what it takes

to protect you, you know that.”

“Yes, we will,” I added, and she actually smiled at me.
“Then everyone, let’s go to bed, and hope that the dawn brings hope for your kind and our

country.”

Jeyle followed us into the bedroom. I was glad of that. I needed a chance to talk to both of

them about what had happened.

“Will he renege, Jodi?” she asked, eyes hopeful and anxious at the same time. “Is he a man

of his word?”

“Once I would have said so. Now...we have to be prepared to follow through with the threat.

I hope we don’t have to.”

“I nearly pissed myself when you did that thing,” Kir said, grinning as he sat down. “So did

he. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I learned from the best,” I said, and sent an image of Ganwe to him. He nodded, his mouth

turned down. “At least now he’ll understand personally what withdrawal is like. He won’t be so
casual about injecting someone else again.” I surprised myself at how brightly the anger over
Kregan’s actions all those month ago still burned in me. More than over anything else that had
happened, actually.

“I wish we could make all those people suffer it,” Jeyle said. “You did well, both of you.

Especially you, Jodi.” My mouth hung open in shock at the utterly unexpected praise. “I know
that can’t have been easy for you.”

“I, uh...it was easy at the time.” Though my hands still shook a little. “I don’t want to get into

the habit of threatening innocent people.” I wished no harm to Nuela, a woman who’d been very
kind to me. I couldn’t have carried a threat against her personally. Kregan...I wasn’t so sure. That
lack of certainty shocked me now.

“You gotta do what it takes,” Kir said. “Sometimes...you gotta be the bad guy. He wasn’t

gonna listen. He was trying to wiggle out of it right up until you put that flame near his wife.
Then he caved. If we go through with this, there’s gonna be more people we have to strong-arm.”

“We’ll have to work with him to make this happen.”
Jeyle nodded. “Yes, and once I get this information back to the refuge and people like

Wesejne, we’ll know better where our strengths lie. Kir, you need to stay here, watch him.”

He shrugged. “Figured.”
“Then I’m staying,” I said, fixing him with my eyes.
“No, not yet, and not soon.” As I started to protest, he touched my hand. “Wait—it’s cos we

need you. You and Jeyle, you’re gonna have to strong-arm our side. I can’t fight them, they don’t
listen to me. Kregan? He’ll listen. We got his attention, and he’s smart—he knows he’s beat. Our
guys are gonna take longer. And there’s Noret. We need Wesejne to work on him. But you two
gotta make it happen. Don’t let me down.”

Jeyle bent and kissed his cheek. “No, darling, we won’t. But you won’t be on your own

either.”

“It’s okay if I am cos I know I got people on my side. It’s great.” He gave us a big grin that

didn’t seem the least faked, so I had to believe his words. “But we need to sleep, and talk some
more before you leave.”

“Yes,” she said. “Goodnight then. I’ll transmit the list of paranormals to Hermi before I

sleep.”

“Wait—one question,” I said. She stopped and looked at me. “Timo. Did the list say what he

was? What kind of paranormal?”

“A telekinetic.” Her expression was kind as I sagged a little with relief. “We don’t need him

for this part of the plan.”

“Oh good. Thanks. I, uh—”
“I understand, Jodi. Goodnight.”
I couldn’t meet Kir’s eye as Jeyle closed the door. “I, uh—”
“Didn’t want your best friend caught up in this mess?”
“Which is cowardly of me, really. I mean, you are, she is, I am. Why is Timo so protected?”
“Because he’s family. I don’t have a problem with it, Jodi. And we don’t need him. Not yet.”
I turned to face him. “If this works...we’ll be free.”
“Like they say, there ain’t no picking up the tail feathers of the gakil till the boy bird does his

dancing. Took more than twenty years to get to this point. I’ll believe we’re free when we are.”

“Nice dream, though.”
He grinned. “Yeah, ain’t it. Let’s get some sleep. Big plans need lots of rest.” He stood up

and walked to me, took my hand and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for tonight.
Meant a hell of a lot to me.”

“Least I could do, really.”
“Oh no. The least you could do would’ve been a lot, lot less. That was a big thing. I won’t

forget it.”

“Well, no. Perfect memory and all that.”
“Yeah.” He smiled rather sadly. “You know your life won’t be the same whatever happens.

No more working for him or the government, most likely.”

“I know. I want...what Timo has.”
“Wife and kids?”
“Um...maybe not that. Just....”
You, I thought. The realisation struck like a blow to the gut. I didn’t want to be Kir’s friend, I

wanted...I wanted him to be what Timo had been and could never be again. But how could that
happen? Tonight had changed nothing, and whatever happened with Kregan, it still wouldn’t
change.

“You okay?” Kir frowned, worried.
“Yes. I...it was a bit of a shock tonight.”
“Yeah, it was.” He kissed me again, chastely with no hint of wanting more. “Let’s go to

bed.”

I caught his wrist. “Wait. Kir....” This would be so much easier if I could let him read my

mind. “I...the way you feel about me....”

“Yeah?” He cocked his head, puzzled.
“You still do, right? No change?”

His eyes slid away guiltily. “No. Jodi, I know you— “
“I feel the same too. I mean...about you.” Was it so hard to say the damn words? “I love

you.”

Kir froze. “Since when?”
“Since...I don’t know when it started, but I realised it just now—”
His expression changed, became almost scornful. “‘S nice, Jodi. So what happens when you

decide that I made you think that? When you start asking yourself, ‘why did my feelings
suddenly change?’”

“I...don’t know.”
“Right.” He freed his wrist. “I can’t do it. I can’t hear those words come out of your mouth.

Not again.”

“They won’t!”
“Yeah, sure. We should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”
He turned away from me, apparently only concerned with fetching his pyjamas.
“So what I feel doesn’t matter?”
“Not if you don’t trust along with it. It’s too soon, Jodi. Maybe it always will be.” He turned

and gave me a painful smile. “Um...it’s nice. That you, uh.... No one’s said that. I mean, not like
that exactly. But it ain’t enough.”

“If I can forgive you, why can’t you try?”
“Because I got no defence against you. You’ll tear me up, and I ain’t strong enough. You

can’t help it. You’d never believe these feelings were real. I wish you could,” he added in a
whisper.

“You don’t know. You might be wrong.”
“Yeah. But I probably won’t be and....” He bit his lip. “Losing you twice is too much.”
I’d lost him twice already. “Will this stop us being friends?”
“Only if you let it. I, uh....” He shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with my presence. “You

want the bathroom first?” I shook my head and he bolted, doubtless glad to get away from my
unwanted affections.

Lying in the dark, staring at the ceiling, I knew that I would never be truly free. When he told

me he wanted to settle down with a family, Timo had said he wouldn’t ever be happy if he
couldn’t have that basic wish, no matter what else went well in his life.

Now I knew what he meant.

Chapter Fourteen

Eighteen months after that night, I stepped off a rollo at Tsikeni, suitcase in hand, ready to

start a new life as a free, exonerated paranormal. At least a dozen paranormals and their families
had made the same journey to the south coast along with me to ‘Spook City’ as the port town had
become known. But the journey here had lasted longer than the three days it had taken to come
from Vizinken. So much had changed, and though looking back, it had all happened so fast, as
we had gone through it, pushing, planning, hoping, it had seemed so agonisingly slow. A
government had fallen, careers of powerful and dangerous men had been destroyed, and a
mixture of subversion, clever planning and no small amount of sheer good luck had slowly and
profoundly changed the hearts and minds of an entire nation.

In reality, less change had been needed than we’d feared. The mood for reform, for justice

had been there already after such a long repression. So many families had lost too much, too
many individuals had their freedoms destroyed, that the first cracks which appeared in the
impenetrable wall of government control, had been eagerly ripped apart by many desperate
hands. Even Kregan, so cautious at first, had been amazed how quickly the efforts of carefully
placed telepaths in ‘suggesting’ legal changes or media reports to the right people, had been
seized upon. Paranormals had not been the only group the government had tried to quell, and we
weren’t the only ones to benefit from new laws, new rights, new liberties. There were new
opportunities in the south, where a canny and open-minded local governor welcomed our kind. I
was the first refugee from the mountain refuge to actually leave the north. I wouldn’t be the last.

Paranormal doctors were in demand in Tsikeni, so I’d had a pick of positions and I’d

accepted a job in a paranormal clinic. Paranormal professionals and tradespeople of any kind

could name their own price. This city had opened its arms to a newly liberated and enfranchised

population, eager to rebuild their lives now they’d won their rights, their families, and dignity

back from those who’d so cruelly stolen it. The new government flung money at Tsikeni to

encourage paranormals to stay away from the capital, and the city used it to build houses and

infrastructure.

As the veecle took me from the rollo station to the inn which would be my temporary

accommodation for a few days, I saw new blocks of apartments going up everywhere, new

offices, academies, built with Weadenisi foreign aid, to train a new paranormal workforce,

clinics, workshops, and schools. The whole place seemed a massive construction site. Here and

there, I saw my kind, still marked with the tattoos that were no longer compulsory, working

alongside their ‘normal’ colleagues, with no naksen shake or dazed eyes. I’d had a little time to

become used to it, but it still gave me a warm glow every time I saw it.

I started work the day after I arrived in Tsikeni, and quickly found that the job offered me the

structure and purpose to my life that I’d lost when my talent had emerged. The clinic was

understaffed and overworked, but everyone there was determined to give it their all. There wasn’t

one of us there to mark time. We wanted to be there, we wanted to help, and we believed in what

we did. It was what I thought I’d had under Kregan, and now had for real.

Before travelling south, I’d spent a little time in Vizinken brushing up my general clinical

skills with the help of my older paranormal colleagues like Dede and those few normal doctors
prepared to work with us. It wasn’t that the medical profession as a whole were prejudiced
against us, but paranormals as a group loathed normal doctors for enforcing the hated naksen
dosages, and their general lack of sympathy with the problems that had brought. Paranormals
turned to their own wherever possible. For that, I couldn’t blame them.

The challenge for anyone working with them was enormous, though. Years of mandatory

drugging, neglect through poor services, the debilitation of poverty, had left a huge health deficit.
It was perhaps only simple justice that one of the things which had changed sentiment towards
our kind had been Kanar, that old warhorse, releasing a damning report on the devastating effect
of naksen upon those forced to use it. Other reports about the widespread naksen thievery and the
links to organised crime, gave weight to his highly vocal and eventually successful campaign for
the drug’s use to be banned. I found it amusing a former pariah had become our chief champion
and spokesperson, and that Kanar’s witty, cutting commentary was now an institution on the
news skims. He’d been almost as effective as all our telepaths put together.

A week after my arrival, I found a room through the clinic, in a house with four other

paranormals, all students. I could have afforded an apartment all on my own but, as Kir had after
prison, I found the prospect of solitary existence unappealing. Beside, the house was nicer than
any of the new apartments—larger and friendlier. It reminded me a little of being at university,
with the same unconventional routines and easy attitudes to life.

I soon realised, though, that years in Vizinken hadn’t quite prepared me for the open-

mindedness of Tsikeni. My first morning there, over breakfast, Laei, one of my new housemates
said quite casually, “If you want a social life here, Jodi, the clubs are the way to go. I can get you
an intro anytime you like. You like men?”

I stared at him. “Er....” No one had ever asked me that. Not so bluntly, or even at all. It

wasn’t done in the environment I grew up in, or had lived in.

Eril, a young architecture student and minor telekinetic, poked his friend. “Manners. Just

because you like taking it up the back passage. Gosh, hasn’t he gone a funny colour.” Laei
smirked at my discomfort.

The heat in my face refused to subside. “Er...yes, I like men. But I—”
“Hey, this isn’t Vizinken. Deevs don’t have to slink around any more. I'm the Children of

Marra’s worst nightmare—a paranormal deev on the loose. And proud of it.”

“A voting paranormal deev,” Eril reminded him.
“And proud of that too.”
“Uh. Me too, I guess.” I grinned in relief. “I don’t think I’ve ever admitted that as a free man

before.”

“Get used to it, Jodi. We're not taking any shit from anyone any more.”
Everywhere I went in Tsikeni, I found that same determination—to be self-sufficient, not

dependent on a distrusted government or the normals who largely still feared us. The throwing
off of shackles, real and regulatory, had had a profound effect on attitudes at all levels.
Paranormals clamoured to be part of the local governance as much as the local economy, while
the Marranite status quo, always less powerful in this liberal city, was challenged by a militant
and vocal population of the loathed ‘deevs’ and a resurgent Spiritist movement. Even I, so
sceptical, allowed myself to be talked into attending a greeting circle by one of our medics, and at
last, when I had a real choice, Hermi’s wish that I found solace in this strange religion without
gods, came to pass.

He was gently amused when I admitted this via one of our many viewcom conversations. He

and I exchanged messages at least once a day, as I did with Dede, but he was even busier than I
was. Wrangling a new world order took up a lot of time. I missed Hermi though. Even Jeyle,
since she and I had worked so closely together as the plans came together.

Kir...I more than missed. He was in the thick of it, and worked on matters I dared not enquire

into. Kir, Hermi, and a very small group of other paranormals were the secret, true powerbrokers
of this country. It was a situation we all fervently hoped would not need to be maintained forever,
once organic change gained full momentum.

I didn’t miss the mountain though. If anyone tried to make me return—or lock me up again

—they would find the new breed of paranormals had remarkably few scruples about using their
powers to defend themselves. Repression had given the will to ensure no one ever again turned us
into helpless victims. We had teeth and wouldn’t be afraid to bite next time.

~~~

“That’s the last one, Jodi,” Kuminei said as she took the chart.
“Oh good,” I said, standing up and groaning as my aching back protested. It had been our

specialist geriatric clinic today and as usual we’d been overbooked and understaffed. I thanked
Dede for sending me Kuminei. An efficient medic, she would, in time, make an excellent doctor,
though that would take several more years. She was due to start lectures again in a month, and I’d
have to find a replacement. I wasn’t looking forward to it.

A knock on the clinic door. “Oh hell, not another one. Yes?”
Our clinic admin put his head around the door. He looked spooked, biting his lip anxiously.

“Arwe Jodi, there’s a Defence Force officer out in front looking for you.”

I froze as Kuminei gasped in shock, then turned to me with an anxious look. “No...Jodi, I’ll

cover, you can slip out the back.”

“And you think the defs won’t have thought of that?” I sounded a lot calmer than I felt, my

stomach already turning inside out in terror. Kir was coming to visit me this weekend. I expected
him the very next day—had been anxiously, excitedly awaiting him for two weeks now. Was this
related? “Did they say what they want, Arni?”

“No. Just asked to see you.”
I turned to Kuminei, determined not to go down like a coward. “I want you to send the latest

data to Arwe Dedeke, and if I don’t return, let her know. If I don’t return....”

She clutched at my arm. “This is supposed to be over,” she whispered.
“Yes, I thought so too.” I patted her hand. “Just...be a professional. Don’t forget to send the

data.”

“No, I won’t.” But her eyes were stricken as I moved towards the door.
How could I get the word to Kir? But perhaps it was too late for that. I pulled out my

communicator and called his number. It went to messages only, so I left a carefully coded
recording and hoped he would steer clear. But he’d already be on the rollo so he couldn’t turn
back.

The short walk to the foyer felt like a pardec. My record had been wiped well before I’d

moved to Tsikeni. I’d been pardoned, amnestied.... What could the defs want with me?

My terror turned to confusion and then to anger as I saw who waited for me. I stalked over to

him and restrained myself with difficulty from punching Kir in his grinning mouth.

“You utter turd! You knew people were panicking! You knew I was!”
“Wanted to see the look on your face,” he said, still grinning like a fool. “Hi, Jodi. Nice to

see you.”

“Wish I could say the same. Arni, would you be so kind as to go back and tell Arwe Kuminei

that this ‘gentleman’ is a friend—of sorts—and all’s well. But I’d appreciate her sending the data
anyway.”

Arni bobbed his head and fairly ran back to my office. The clinic gossips would be working

overtime now.

“What data?” Kir asked.
“Project Dede’s working on, compiling national statistics on the long term impact of naksen

on former users. She’s recruited doctors all over the country, and why the hell are you talking
about this, you bastard? Explain yourself. Why are you so early?” He really was dressed in a
def’s uniform, black and sleek and apparently authentic. And what’s up with that bloody outfit?
Kir, is this another covert —

No, legit. Come have a drink with me and I’ll explain. Dinner?
I could have plans, you know.
Do you?

“Not the point,” I said, sniffing. He laughed in my face, cheeky bastard. “Give me five

minutes. I’ve been handling sick people all day.”

It was my turn to laugh at him as he stepped back in horror.
I spoke to Kuminei and said my friend was playing a silly joke. She rolled her eyes. “With

friends like those....”

I took off my cleancoat and tossed it into the clinic laundry collection basket. “Yes, I plan to

make that clear. Enjoy the weekend, and thanks for today. You were a great help.”

“I enjoyed it. Every time I walk in here, know I have a real job...will that ever stop feeling

good?”

“Not any time soon. Goodnight.”
I found Kir examining the health notices on the wall and frowning at them. “Dede’s clinic is

like this too.”

“They tend to be. Come along, you owe me more than a drink. Bastard.”
He looked utterly gorgeous. The uniform fitted him perfectly, clinging to his tight buttocks,

emphasising his shoulders and taut belly in a way a man ten years younger would have envied.
But why the hell was he wearing it?

Does this have anything to do with why you’ve been so cagey for the last six months?
Yeah. I have to be careful about who’s listening. You okay with us doing this in our heads?
I rolled my eyes at him and he shrugged.
“Got any local suggestions?”
“Yes. But no one will want to see you dressed like that. Honestly, Kir, are you trying to upset

people?”

“Not yet. Okay, let’s try the restaurant where I’m staying. You got a veecle or can we hire

one?”

“No, I’ve got one.”
I’d never needed one in Vizinken, but Tsikeni sprawled across the plains like a rash on a

beggar’s bottom. A veecle was essential.

When he gave me directions to Tsikeni’s largest and most expensive inn, I boggled at him.

“Who’s paying for this?”

“Same people that give me the uniform. Just drive, Jodi. I got a lot of talking to do and I

need a drink.”

I felt horribly conspicuous walking in beside him. Heads turned as we walked into the

restaurant and the waiter’s obsequiousness was a bit on the sickening side as he found us a table
with suspicious speed. I was well past the point in my life where such things gave me a rebellious
thrill, and wished we’d gone to the quiet eatery near my home.

Kir appeared unfazed. I reminded myself he was an excellent actor and had been in far worse

situations, so his lack of concern couldn’t be relied upon. But he smiled as the waiter set iced jada

down for us both.

“You look good,” he said. “Shield’s still strong, I see. No tattoos?”
“No. A lot of people are having them removed.”
“I heard some were hanging on to them. Sort of a political thing.”
“Yes. A badge of honour. But most of us don’t want the government to be the one to define

our identity, and they’re ugly as hell.”

“Yeah, they are. The beard’s kinda nice.”
I touched it. I was still getting used to it. “I guess I’m compensating for prison.”
“Beard, braid...yeah, I’d say so.” He gave me a grin to take any offence from his words.

“You been back to the greeting circle? You said you didn’t mind the last one you went to.”

“A couple of times. Still not completely sure it’s for me, but when you know no one, new

town...it’s friendly.” Kir, quit the small talk. Why are you dressed like a def?

Cos I am one. He smiled at my shock. All hush hush until now, but the president’s gonna be

making an announcement any day now. The paranormals are getting their own police again, like
they had before the terrors. I’m officially a member of the PPP civil defence unit—Paranormal
Protection and Policing.

What a bloody horrible name.
S’what Hermi says. Kregan ‘convinced’ the president that the best people to keep

paranormals under control were people like them. Less resentment and stuff. I got a badge and
everything.

It would never have been possible under Pregar Noret, but Noret had been one of our earliest

successes. Police corruption had been a powerful wedge to open up public opinion in our favour
—a local outlet here, a news skim there, reporting on corruption allegations, the arrests of dirty
defs for shaking down paranormals made an unpleasant splash. More revelations took the scalps
of public servants, then a minister, and then Noret was finally toppled when he was heavily
implicated in a drugs-related bribery scandal. Kregan replaced him, and we’d made sure his
decisions supported our cause. At that point, we realised our plans would probably succeed, but it
had still taken many more months of hard work to finally achieve liberation.

Kir had been heavily involved in all that. Still, to become the policer of our own people....
But is this what you want to do? I asked.
Hell yes. You think I want to keep sneaking around to protect our kind? This way, normals

gotta listen to me. They ain’t shoving me around any more, or anyone else. You don’t like it, do
you?

I...have trouble seeing you dragging in a paranormal for committing a crime.
Already done it. Been training with the defs for the last few months, that’s why I couldn’t

talk to you about what I been up to. See, it’s hard, but it’s good, cos we can make sure it’s all fair
and square. Our people do the wrong thing, they get a better deal than before, but the normals

know they still gotta pay for what they done. It’s gotta be done right or no one’ll take it seriously.

Idealistic. Realistic?
Hope so. It’s gotta be better than what we had, right?
We had a lot of catching up to do, and it was a bittersweet thing, a pleasurable ache to talk to

someone who knew me, my history, and from whom I had to hide nothing, not even my desire
for him, though we didn’t talk about it. We ate dinner while he told me all the latest from
Vizinken, using his voice for ordinary matters, switching to mental conversation when the topic
turned sensitive. After a while I couldn’t remember which we’d used at any particular point.

At the end of the meal, as we were served jilaj—the beverage had become fashionable, at

least in Tsikeni, in honour of the help the Weadenisis had given the paranormal population in
rebuilding lives and careers—he fished in his pocket for something.

You asked me for an address a while back. You never got this from me, he said, handing it

over.

I read the note in Kir’s rather childish handwriting. Lotiwei hon Zuso, born Lotiwei hon

Neim, lived in Kardelo, a bare fifty pardecs from Tsikeni—how ironic was that?

“His son.”
“Yeah.” Actually, it’s semi-official, cos they changed all the laws about marriages and

adoptions and stuff, but strictly speaking, you should’ve applied and give a reason. I figured
you...maybe didn’t want to do that.

No. Thank you.
I folded the paper carefully and put it in my wallet. I needed to think about how to approach

the man, but now I had the information I needed to do so. If only Neim had waited a little more
time...but I hadn’t known then how drastically my life would change, so how could he have
done?

“You didn’t come down here for a social visit, did you?” I asked, looking at him over my

cup. “Not with the uniform and coming down a day early.”

“Actually I’ve been here three days.” I set my cup down and stared at him in shock. “Sorry.

It’s all...look, we should talk about this somewhere private. Come up to my room?”

“I’m ready.” What was this cagey bastard up to now?
He said nothing as we walked to the elevator. My mind raced with all the possibilities, but I

couldn’t come up with an answer. I was still processing the idea of Kir as a cop, and what a
paranormal police force meant for us. The potential for corruption and abuse was strong, but it
could be of great benefit too.

“I can’t tell what you’re thinking but you’re sure being loud about it,” he said with a grin as

he opened his door.

“Unlike you who gives nothing away.” He smirked at me as I entered the room and stopped

dead. Tsikeni wasn’t as old or elegant as Vizinken, but this could have been any room in any

high-class inn the capital had on offer. “Wow...this is pretty swish. They didn’t pay you to have a
little break in the south, did they.”

He gestured for me to sit down in one of the lovely armchairs. “No, they didn’t. Jodi, they

asked me to work down here.”

“What? Why? When?”
“Hold on, I’ll tell you. You want another drink? I think they got a bar in here someplace—”
“No, I don’t want a bloody drink. I want an explanation.”
“Okay.” He began to fiddle with the pocket chain of his uniform. “They need people to set

up a unit down here, working with the regular defs and street security. They asked me a couple of
weeks ago if I’d be part of it. I said I wanted to come down here and talk to the locals, sniff
around, see if I liked the place.”

“So this was never about me. Visiting me.”
“Yeah, it was, but there’s other things to think about.”
I frowned at him. “You sound less than enthralled. Because you’d be moving away from

Hermi and Jeyle?”

“Not really. I’ll miss them like hell, but they’re busy. Hermi’s all for the PPP thing. He says

he could never do it cos of his talent, but he thinks it’s what we need.”

“Then what’s the problem? It’s not the prettiest city in Pindone, but does that bother you?”
“No, it ain’t the city.” He stopped fiddling. “It’s you.”
“Ah.” I bit my lip. “Kir...I wouldn’t interfere with you in any way, you know. I’ll even leave

town if that would—”

He put his hand on my wrist. “I don’t want you to leave. I got to know if you want me to

stay. That’s...what I had to find out. Because of...well, you know. Your feelings and stuff. I don’t
want this to be torture for you.”

“I see.” I got up and walked to the window. I still found it easier when I could see light and

sky. The new clinic had been specially designed with the maximum windows its structure could
support. A lot of claustrophobia sufferers lived in Tsikeni. “If I’m honest, Kir...it would be
torture. But I have no right to stop you building a career. I could easily move back to Vizinken, or
almost anywhere that needs a doctor. That’d be the simplest—”

I nearly jumped through the damn window when his hand landed on my shoulder.
“Shit, sorry, Jodi...calm down.”
“Don’t do that,” I said through gritted teeth. “You know why.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t thinking. You don’t have to leave. I don’t have to take the job.”
“Yes you do. Because you’re an honest man and you’d do an honest job, and we need people

like you protecting us. I’d offer to work for this thing as well except I’d be dreadful at it and we
need doctors too.”

His hand on my shoulder urged me to turn. “I thought we was friends now.”

“We are. I want us to be. But.” I pulled away from his hand. “It’s been more than two years,

Kir. I want you more than ever. With you in the north, I could cope, barely. With you in the same
town...I’m sorry, I’m not that strong. I’m not even sure I want to be so strong that I can pretend I
don’t want you, don’t love you. So...take the damn job, and let me do what works for me. There’s
more important things than our relationship. We sweated blood to get to this point.” I moved
back a little. “Uh...when do you have to decide?”

His hand, still reaching for me, dropped to his side. “When I get back. They want to move

fast. If I said the word, I could stay here now, start right away. Jodi…what you said, goes for me
too.”

“No, it doesn’t because you’ve got this impossible fear stopping you from doing anything,

and all I’ve got is willpower. It’s not enough.”

He watched me pace around the room without saying a word for or against. I couldn’t see

how we had any other option, given his belief about my untrustworthiness.

“But one thing,” I said finally. “One thing. If at some point in the future, I’m supposed to

fling at you that you made me love you, why would my feelings be stronger now than ever? How
would that work? How would I argue that point? Two years! Over two damn lonely, longing
years, Kir. When I’ve wanted you and missed you and kept every message you sent me and
damned if I don’t spend every night stroking that bloody wooden barchin you made because it’s
all I have of you....”

I clenched my fist and stared at the floor. “Even if you made me feel like this, I don’t care.

It’s what I want, what I feel is right for me. So why can’t you accept my word?”

He said nothing, seemingly rooted on the spot by indecision. I stalked over to him and sank

to my knees. “You say I don’t trust you? I do. Enough for....” I put my hand on his belt and he
flinched. I looked up into his anxious eyes. “Please. Please let me. Just once.”

“Jodi, no, I don’t want you forcing yourself, not for me, I don’t deserve it. I don’t want it.”
“But I do! I want to be past this fear, and I want to be past it with you.” I leaned my face

against his crotch. “Please, Kir. I want to prove this to myself and to you. Please.”

He touched my cheek with his horn-skinned palm, rasped it along my beard. “You don’t

have to do this.”

“Please.”
“It ain’t—”
I clutched at his thigh. “Please,” I breathed against his leg.
No reply. I waited for him to protest, and when he didn’t, I decided the worst that could

happen would be that he’d push me away.

No, the worst that could happen would be that I completely lost my nerve. I hadn’t seriously

attempted to do this since prison. Suddenly, it seemed like a very stupid idea, and one that
wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference to his opinion.

But then his hand fell lightly onto my hair, and I remembered how gentle he’d been, and how

much I’d loved sex with him, lying with him, and I needed that again so very much. If this was
my last chance for intimacy with him, then I’d take it. His breathing stuttered as I slowly undid
his belt, and then his pants. His hand on my hair tightened a fraction.

“Jodi....”
Don’t talk to me or I’ll never do it. I used mental speech because I didn’t trust my voice not

to shake.

No. Stop. Please. I don’t want this.
I pressed my face against his crotch, against his underpants and the flesh underneath it. I

need you.

He cupped my cheek, caressing me, and then he knelt, so he was face to face with me.
“I don’t need you to do this,” he whispered, his arms going around me.
Then he kissed me, tentative warms lips against mine. I couldn’t look at him, closing my

eyes so I didn’t have to, but his lips insisted, demanding I pay attention, his tongue slicking
against my mouth and asking for permission. The heat of his body against mine tantalised and
tormented me. My chest tightened to agony at the thought of him walking away again.

Kir, don’t push me away. Please.
Look at me, Jodi. Open your eyes.
Reluctantly I did so.
“You don’t need to do this,” he said, brown eyes suspiciously bright. “I believe you. I do

trust you.”

“But...I didn’t....”
“Prove yourself? You tried and that’s enough. Don’t...don’t ever force yourself to do

something like that for me, okay?”

I nodded, my throat tight.
So, can we get off this fucking floor cos it’s killing me.
He pulled me up, giving the lie to any implied infirmity of age, and then pulled me in tight

by my sweater for a demanding kiss. My arms went around him, more for support than anything
because I shook so hard.

“Kir...you won’t push me away?”
“I swear. I never meant to...I didn’t know. Fuck, I didn’t know,” he said almost to himself,

then looked at me with those limpid dark eyes of his. “This stuff is all...I ain’t no expert in love,
you know. No one never...you said you loved me, but I didn’t really...I see people’s heads all the
time. People with the ones they’re married to, or fucking. And...they say it’s love but it’s more
like hate. Or convenience. It’s ugly.” He stroked down the side of my face. “But you’re not ugly.
To do that for me...when you could hate me and you don’t.... No one’s done that for me,” he said
wonderingly.

I leaned my forehead against his. “I just...needed to show you. Make you believe somehow.

Damn it, Kir, I’ve missed you like a fire in my heart all this time. You have to believe me.” If
only it was possible to drop my shields—but once built, they could not easily be torn down.

“I believe you,” he murmured, kissing my cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a dick over this. I was

scared, and it stopped me. I don’t want to be scared any more.”

“I still don’t know if I can do that,” I said, staring into his eyes.
“So?”
“I just...it feels to me like I won’t have finished healing. Won’t have put the past—you and

me and the thing with my memories, Ganwe, all of it—behind me, until I can overcome the fear.
It’s like an ulcer on my soul.”

He sighed and tugged gently at my left earlobe, petting it a little. “I lied to you, kinda.

Before.”

I frowned at him. “When?”
“When I said my staying depended on you. It didn’t. It depended on me. If I could stand

being around you and not....” He smiled. “Then I worked out it’s a case of I can’t stand not to be
around you. That’s stronger than any fear.”

“Then be around me. It’s what I want, and if I have to put Hermi on a rollo and bring him

down here to prove it to you, I will.”

“I don’t need Hermi to prove anything.” He kissed me, and I let myself fall into the taste of

his lips, letting it heal, letting it bless me. I didn’t care, would never care if he had wrought this
because it felt so right.

He put his arms around me, strong and so very real. I buried my face in his jacket, inhaling

his scent, the uniform smelling new and unfriendly over my memories of him.

I tugged at the collar. “You look good in this but I want you out of it.”
I heard the grin in his voice. “Yeah? Gonna make it worth my while?”
I looked up at him. “Will you let me?”
“You can do whatever you want to do. Want being the important bit of that, okay?”
“Then will you take that bloody horrible uniform off? It’s giving me hives.”
He chuckled. “Let go and I will.”
“No. Get undressed like this.”
“You’re a nut, Jodi.”
“Not flexible enough?”
“Oh fuck you.”
It terrified me, how easily we could screw things up. How fragile we both were. But right

now, as Kir squirmed and wriggled, trying to undo all the fastenings on his uniform within the
confines of my arms, and being distracted by the more than occasional kiss, I could only be
grateful, and desire him.

It seemed to me there was a lot of unnecessary crotch grinding going on even though his

pants were already undone. “Hmmm, are you up to something, Mas Kirvo?”

“Trying to get my fucking pants off, you sadist. Let go so I can take my shoes off, will ya?”
I knelt again so I could do it for him, sliding his trousers down, and unbuckling his boots,

lifting them off his long narrow feet and slipping the trousers and underwear off as well. I tossed
them aside and smiled at his exasperated snort. As I knelt up, I found myself face to face with his
cock.

“Sorry—”
He tried to move back, but I gripped his legs.
“No.” I leaned forward and kissed it, the butter-soft skin so sweet against my lips, then

buried my nose in the curls at his groin, inhaling Kir’s rich warmth, sweat and arousal and clean,
healthy man. His erection brushed against my cheek, but I concentrated on him—all of him. The
tight muscles of his firm buttocks, and long legs under my hands. The crisp springiness of the
curls on my face, delicate crinkling against my beard, and then his hands, gently, protectively, on
my head again.

“I love you,” I whispered against his belly, my lips tracing vibrations into his skin. A tattoo

of affection, invisible to all but me. His pulse beat firmly against my mouth, strong and healthy,
so alive to me.

His cock beat against my cheek too, quivering gently in time with his heart. The lush smell

of his need poked at a part of my brain I’d suppressed for too long. I nuzzled against that silky
length and he chuckled.

“Your fucking beard tickles.”
“Sorry,” I lied cheerfully and did it again, grinning at his little jump and laugh. I turned my

head and placed a little kiss at the base of his cock, letting myself feel the rigid strength behind
tender skin. Another kiss, a little further along. I dared to lick, to taste it, sliding my tongue along
the warm perfection. I let the licks grow longer, braver, exploring a little more. My hand slid up
his inner thigh and cupped his heavy balls. He twitched, but didn’t complain. He let me find my
own pace, and I was grateful for that kindness.

No one in prison had ever given me this kind of time, or consideration. Or smelled like Kir,

or petted my hair as I licked him, or touched my cheek with so much tenderness. No one in
prison had ever given me the choice I knew I had here, to stop, to walk away. No one in prison
had been as beautiful as Kir, and I had never wanted any of them. I wanted him, and the more I
could get of him, the better.

I tongued around the crown, tasting him, and before I could overthink it, took him in. I heard

my name murmured, and felt Kir’s fingers lightly under my jaw, supporting, encouraging, but
never forcing, never making this about his wants. He let this be about me, this time, and that
made the difference that let me do it at all.

I took my time, because that too was different. I didn’t need to get him off as quickly as I

could, or at all. I paused, his cock still in my mouth, so I could move my hands, touch his belly,
his legs, cup and carefully roll his balls. Exploring his body, reconnecting. I needed to draw this
out as long as I could, because the longer it took, the less it reminded me of those furtive, hasty
assignations in that cold and smelly stock room, felt more and more like the act of love I so
desperately needed.

And I was into it more than I thought possible, because I’d forgotten how much I loved the

feel of a man’s cock on my tongue, the slide and heat of it, the taste and weight of it. How
hearing the quiet gasps and feeling the helpless little jumps as I used my hands to stroke and
fondle, turned me on so much, made my trousers so tight, it hurt. I fumbled my belt and trousers
open, pushed a hand inside my pants and got a hold of myself, and then I stroked as I sucked,
imagining it was Kir’s hard hand on my cock, gripping me tight and wonderfully as I curled my
tongue around the head of his cock and used my teeth to exquisitely torment him.

I felt his balls contracting and a second later, heard a gasped out “Jodi!” But I didn’t take my

mouth off him because I wanted him, all of him, and when he came it was like a gift, a blessing.
Setting me free of the pain from the past, promising a future where I could choose for myself.
Where we both could.

He urged me to let him go, and as soon as I did, he dropped to his knees and put his arm

around me, his other hand pushing mine away so he could take over. I writhed in pleasure as he
wrapped his long, strong fingers around me, his mouth claiming me at the same time, tongue
seeking and tasting me, him, us. He fucked my mouth as his hand stroked me to a quick, messy
climax, held me as he kept kissing me and murmuring my name, whispering promises and love
and apologies over and over against my lips, my bearded cheeks.

We clung together like that for some time, and when I finally looked at him properly, I

realised his face was wet, like mine. He smiled somewhat tremulously. “I can’t...I don’t know
how...I never thought we could do that again.”

“But we did. Now we can do it as often as we like,” I murmured. I looked down—his hand

was covered in come, and about two seconds from making a mess either of my pants or the
carpet. “Come on, let’s clean up.”

In the bathroom, he stripped me properly, with reverence and the essential gentleness that

was his defining trait.

“Now, see,” he said, carefully folding my trousers over the rail and putting my shirt and

sweater on a hanger. “That’s how you treat nice clothes.”

“Your uniform is not nice clothing. It’s hideous.”
He paused, my clothes still in his hand. “It really bothers you? Is it gonna be a problem for

us?”

“Absolutely not. I’m only kidding. Half-kidding. Kir...we’ve all got bad memories of the

security forces, you know that. But you’re on our side. It’s who you are that matters, not what
you wear. I’m worried about the effect on you, though. It’s pretty rough in this town, and police
work can be ugly.”

He hung my shirt up behind the door, then turned and faced me. “Uglier than prison? Uglier

than what I seen? I can take it.”

I went to him and took his hands. “You won’t have Hermi and Jeyle to support you. Not in

person.”

“I’m fine, Jodi. All of us have to see a psych every month, more if we need it. It ain’t gonna

be easy, any of it. I know that. But it’s what I want.”

I reached up and touched his head, curled my fingers in his short thick hair. “This. This is

what I want. You.”

“Yeah. That too.” He turned his head and kissed my wrist. “Figure we can spend the whole

weekend doing this?”

“Yes, I do...though maybe....”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe a trip to Kardelo at some point?”
He paused, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. But you and me first, okay? Got a lot of catching up

to do.”

I let him take me by the hand and lead me to the bed. Yes, us first, because that was our

foundation. After that....

We had freedom, and choices and rights. And we would make our future ourselves.

~~~

If you enjoyed this story, then discover more of my books for sale at

http://logophilos.net/store

Hidden Faults is set in

the world of Periter

which is much like our own, and other than in

geography, differs in only one major respect—some of the people living on it have a gene which
when expressed, gives them paranormal abilities. Approximately half the races in this world carry
this gene, which is switched on during development by a number of environmental factors. The
gene also makes the person infertile.

Hidden Faults is a sequel to

Walk a Lonesome Road

, which is a remix of the main Pindone Files

arc. If you enjoyed this, then you might also enjoy:

Cold Front

Unsettled Conditions

The other arc set in Periter is the Darshian Tales:

Kei’s Gift

Falling From the Tree

Staying Power

Home Ground

Going Down

is also part of this universe, but is separate from the above in time and geography.

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