Malcolm smiled softly. “I’ve got a good mechanic I can recommend, if you’re interested.”
I was filled with affection, a gentle warmth I’d always imagined felt like fatherly love. I’d only felt it once before, with Mr. Smith, from my last foster family—the only decent home I was put in. Malcolm was, indeed, very fond of me. I thought of a warm breakfast on the kitchen table whenever he looked at me that way, reminding me of Mr. Smith’s maple syrup pancakes and freshly squeezed orange juice.
“That would be great, thanks!” I beamed at him, then remembered the cucumbers. “Just so you know, the couple you guys lifted—they know each other. They didn’t think anyone would notice, but you know me. I think they’re quite seasoned, too. You might want the cops to check with Nevada casinos.”
“Good point. Thank you, Harley.” Malcolm gave me an appreciative nod. “They’ll get banned, anyway, and we’ll put out a nationwide alert on their profiles. They didn’t show up in our system when they came in.”
“Ah, yes, facial recognition cameras. I keep forgetting we have those,” I muttered, as I caught movement at the corner of my eye, then above us. Looking up, the flicker of a shadow in a corner by another vent made me still. I could’ve sworn I’d just seen that long black tail again…
I must be tired.
“They’ll get arrested, too,” Malcolm replied.
I shrugged. “Hey, man, that’s what happens when you don’t keep your nose clean.”
In retrospect, I could’ve ended up a lot worse, as a foster kid. We were the discarded souls that nobody wanted. Most of the kids in the system ended up in juvenile detention centers and, later on, prison.
It wasn’t really their fault. Nobody chooses to be a criminal at the age of twelve. Your environment pushes you. The lack of involvement from the authorities when you signal abuse from one foster parent, then another—it makes you lose any semblance of hope. The system doesn’t believe you, and you grow up distrusting the system in return.
Nobody listens to you. Nobody cares. You do what you can to get by. That’s how it usually goes down for us kids with black garbage bags.
I did good for myself. I stayed out of serious trouble, despite my often-troublesome abilities. Of course, the other foster kids didn’t grow up with a note from their dad, telling them to “stay smart” and “stay safe.”
As miserable as I was without parents to call my own, I still felt a little lucky to have had that handful of words to guide me.
It was better than nothing.
Chapter Three
Shortly after the incident, my shift was over, but the night was far from coming to an end, with about a dozen customers left at the poker and blackjack tables. Only one of them was walking away with more money than he’d come in with. The others filled me with a sense of disappointment, and, at the same time, hope—the idea that they’d try again next time, and maybe beat the house.
I wasn’t a gambler myself, nor would I ever indulge. Given my ability as an empath, I’d already experienced the thrilling highs and the devastating lows from all the players I’d had to sit next to during my work hours. I could never get over the pit in my stomach after watching someone throw twenty grand right into the dealer’s hands. Loss was one emotion I was already familiar with, and it wasn’t something I needed more of. On top of that, at nineteen, I wasn’t even legally allowed to gamble. Working there and pretending to be a gambler, however, was a different story, thanks to several legal loopholes that Malcolm had taken advantage of, in order to get me on his crew.
“You have to let me set you up on a date with Daniel,” Malcolm said with a smile, watching me as I collected my clutch from the top of the bar, then put my leather jacket on. The jacket was one of my favorites, and I rarely parted with it, especially given these cool early spring nights we’d been having lately.
“Now, why would you do that to your own son, Malcolm?” I grinned.
“He’s nineteen; you’re nineteen. You’re a good girl; he’s a good boy. You’re lonely, and Daniel sure could use a female presence in his life. I could go on,” Malcolm replied, rubbing the back of his neck.
His wife died when Daniel was only five, so it had been just the two of them for a very long time. Shortly after he became a single dad, Malcolm put the police badge away and started working in security—a slightly safer line of work, since he couldn’t put his life at such risk anymore. Not while raising a son, anyway.
Malcolm was being truthful, though. Daniel was a good guy, and I’d met him a couple of months earlier. I’d noticed the sweet looks he gave me, but I didn’t think anything of it until Malcolm first suggested a date. This was his third attempt, and it was going to be a no, once again. Daniel was sweet and all, but he just wasn’t my type. Not that I actually knew what my “type” was, but something inside me just didn’t click with Daniel.
Besides, being in a relationship meant I’d have to eventually explain my weird powers, and I was nowhere near ready to have that conversation with anybody.
“Sorry, Malcolm, but it’s still a no for me,” I replied gently, careful not to let him down too hard. “I mean, I’m happy to go out with the both of you, since there’s so much of San Diego I’ve yet to experience, despite growing up here, and you guys know all the good burger joints, apparently… But I’m not getting into the dating game anytime soon, and I’d hate to string Daniel along.”
“Can’t blame an old man for trying.” Malcolm shook his head slowly as the shadow of a smile passed over his face.
“See you in a couple of days.” I winked, waved him goodbye, and walked out through the back door. I’d parked my Daisy in the far-right corner of the employees’ parking lot, away from the others, and I could see her from where I was standing as I searched for my keys at the bottom of the clutch. Customers parked their cars on the other side of the building.
The casino door closed behind me with a loud click, and my fingers finally clasped around my keys. My stomach seemed a bit upset, as if there was a little monster inside, gnawing away at it. Leftover pizza for dinner it is, then.
There were a few other cars in the lot, besides my Mustang, including Malcolm’s black sedan. I walked over to mine, welcoming the cool darkness of midnight. The stars glimmered overhead, in the company of the giant pearl commonly referred to as the moon. I’d always been captivated by it, especially when it was so big and glowing so close to the Earth, though I knew its size was an optical illusion, the horizon tricking my mind and warping reality.
A shadow darted across the asphalt before me, but vanished somewhere behind my Daisy before I could see what it was. I ignored the sudden chill and kept moving, keys in hand, eager to sink into a hot bath at home.
“No, please!” a man yelped somewhere farther down on 55th Street, just where the parking lot ended in its shoddy wooden fence.
My heart hammered in my chest. I walked faster, my stilettos clicking across the asphalt as I reached my car.
“What… What are you?” The same voice grew louder, and I stilled, crippled with horror. But it wasn’t my horror—it was his.
I squinted into the darkness, but couldn’t find the man who had cried out.
Maybe he was just some dude who’d snorted too much of that “good stuff.” But his emotions were far too powerful. I’d experienced drug-induced panics from other people, and none were as intense as the thick sheet of ice constricting my heart in this moment. Besides, my instincts were already telling me to at least find out what was going on, to see if I should call the police.
I walked around the car, toward the fence. I looked down 55th Street, both ways, but there was nothing to see, other than dim orange lights cast by distant streetlamps.
“What the…” I muttered, catching movement somewhere to my right, just where the small apartment blocks started rising, lined with palm trees.
The man whose voice I’d just heard emerged from the shadows. He tripped and fell over, just twenty feet away from me and right in the middle of the street. Fear crashed into me in a second, much more brutal wave, paralyzing my muscles. Oh, man, he’s scared out of his mind.
“Get away from me!” he shrieked, then stumbled to his feet and started running again.
“Dude, are you okay?” I called out as he got closer.
He was pale, paper-white almost, his face drenched in sweat and his crisp, Friday-night-out suit covered in dirt and cuts. He was pretty roughed up, his lip split and a purplish bruise blaring around his left eye. He stared at me for a second, then exhaled sharply with genuine relief. I felt hope bursting inside my chest—his, as he hoped I would save him. From what, though?
“No, I’m not! You’ve got to help me, call the police!” he said, his voice trembling. “I can’t see… I can’t see who it is… or what it is, but it just won’t let me be!”
“Um, wait, what?” I got confused, fast.
My initial thought of a drug-related trip gone horribly wrong crossed my mind, until a shadow flickered across the ground. I looked down and saw the long black tail I’d seen earlier inside the casino. It lashed out from the shadows to my right, and coiled its tip around the man’s ankles, sweeping him off his feet.
“What—” I didn’t manage to finish my thought. The man fell hard on his back, screaming as he got dragged away. “No, no, no!”
I dropped my keys and clutch and jumped over the fence, my left heel slipping. Not the best night for stilettos, clearly.
“HELP!” he cried out.
I ran after him, slightly limping from the pain budding in my left ankle. His emotions were toying with my senses, and it took considerable mental effort for me to push it all down so I could focus on what was happening as I followed him.
Whatever had latched onto his ankles had a surprisingly long tail. Snake, maybe? No, what kind of snake can do that?
A large figure took form in the semi-darkness ahead, with light from a streetlamp offering me a better view. My stomach churned, then wriggled itself into a small, painful ball, as I came to a halt. This was not a snake. Nor was it a man.