New Sight (11 page)

Chapter 14

“What?”
L
ys
said.

“Magic? I knew it!” Brady cried, pumping a fist in the air.

“Magic?” Lys wanted clarification.

“Magic.” Mark nodded.

Lys noticed that his hands were clean—freed from the yellow goo. “What happened to that stuff on your hands?”

Mark held his arms out, wiggling his fingers. “We managed to scrape it off while you were out. Potent stuff.”

“Is that so you wouldn’t touch anything?” Brady asked.

“Yup.” Mark shrugged. “The New know I’m a touch user.”

“The ‘New’?” Brady asked, putting air quotes around the word new. “That’s a really lame name.”

“They’re not concerned about being cool,” Mark said. “They kill magic users. And that would be us.”

“Kill?” Lys asked, still not convinced about the whole magic thing. “Why would they want to kill, uh, magic users?”

“They didn’t seem particularly interested in killing us while we were there,” Kamau said.

“They wanted information,” Mark said.

“They’ll kill you,” Inez said in a hard voice. “They’ve tried to kill us a few times.”

Peter nodded gravely.

“Why?” Lys asked. Inez only glared at her, so she turned her attention to Mark. “Why would anyone want to kill someone who could supposedly use magic? We’re just kids.”

“Not all magic users are kids. They were after Mason at the hospital.” Mark turned to meet her eye, and Lys flinched.

Before, with Mr. Doyle, Lys could still feel the Need, even if she couldn’t get to it. Now it sat docile, waiting. But for what?

“And trust me, they’ll come after us again,” Mark said.

“Why are you suddenly so alert?” Inez asked Mark, eying him suspiciously. “Thirty minutes ago you were practically drooling.”

Lys thought Mark might be angry—Inez’s words were far from kind—but he laughed. “The effects of the New’s dampening finally wore off. They’ve got technology that can repress magic. I’m sure their facility is packed with it.” He jerked his head toward Lys. “Why do you think she broke so fast once we got away?”

“What do you mean, broke?” Lys asked. “I don’t really feel any different.”

“You might not feel any different now, but don’t be surprised when your magic starts to manifest itself.”

Brady turned to face Kamau. “Magic! Can you believe it? You should check out your eyes! Dude, I told you it would be awesome.”

Kamau turned his attention Mark. “I think you owe us an explanation.”

“Yes,” Lys said. Maybe they would finally get some answers.

Mark opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He turned to Inez and Peter. “You don’t know anything about magic?”

They both shook their heads.

“How have you survived?”

Lys didn’t like the sound of that.

“We make do,” Inez said, fixing Mark with an icy stare.

“Well you’re still alive,” Mark said. He looked them over. “That’s something anyway.”

“Come on!” Brady interrupted. “You’re going to tell us about the magic.”

“Fine, fine.” Mark held up a hand. “Okay, this sounds a little crazy, but let me get through it.” He took a deep breath. “It’s an old story—it goes back so far that no one even remembers the beginning.”

Brady rolled his eyes. “What, like a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away?”

Mark smiled. “Not exactly. A long time ago the world was a different place. Before technology the world was filled with wonders most people can’t comprehend.”

“Technology?” Brady demanded. “Are you some sort of anti-technology freak?”

Mark shook his head. “No. Before technology people saw, heard, felt, tasted, and smelled things on a different level than they do now.” He paused. “I don’t mean technology as in cars, the printing press, and computers. I mean technology in the very rudimentary sense—simple machines and helpful tools started it all.”

No one spoke; they were all listening intently. “Before technology, there was magic. Magic is divided into five categories. The categories are linked to our senses: touch, sight, sound, smell, and taste.”

“Mine has to be touch!” Brady said proudly.

“Just let me tell the story.” Mark held up a hand. “Back then everyone had some form of magic. Everyone was particularly attuned to one of their senses over the others, giving them abilities beyond the norm.”

“What kind of abilities?” Lys asked. What kinds of things did Mark claim this magic could do?

Mark shrugged. “Most of the accounts are gone—lost to society and progress—but the little we have uncovered is amazing. For instance, we have one journal that tells of a man who could punch holes through boulders. Another touch user could put his hand on the ground and feel what was going on around him through the vibrations.”

“Wicked.” Brady grinned.

“At one time, magic was the most powerful force on the planet. There is evidence that the societies of the world lived in peace and harmony for thousands of years.”

Peace for a thousand years? Lys couldn’t even imagine a world without strife and war.

“Until someone got greedy?” Brady again.

“Along those lines.” Mark said. “People who didn’t have great abilities with their magic were jealous of those who did. A few of them banded together and started to make technology. Things that would help everyone be the same, so there were no advantages.”

“Sounds like dystopia to me,” Brady threw in. Lys was beginning to wonder what Brady did with his free time.

“Well it didn’t go over very well. We don’t have many particulars, but before too long there were two factions—one for technology and one against.

“Technology is powerful. You’ve all used tools: cell phones, computers, or even a car. We can do so much more than the generation before us just because of the technology we have.

“Magic is powerful as well, but it works in a completely different way. Magic is personal. No two people wield magic in the same fashion. Every cell phone or pencil works the same no matter who is using it. Magic is different. The man who was so powerful in the sense of touch could do amazing things, but he could not heal. Others with their sense of touch could heal any wound.”

“Wow,” Lys breathed. If this magic thing was real, all she’d seen of it was destruction. All she’d felt from it was horror, terror, and violence. Could there be a good side to it?

“Wow is right. “ Mark looked back at her, meeting her eye.

Lys looked away.

“So people back then had super powers? Like the X-Men?” Brady blurted out.

Lys blinked. Seriously, what did Brady read and watch?

“Kind of,” Mark answered.

“So what happened?” Brady asked, leaning forward.

“The people with the technology won,” Mark said, shrugging. “They built tools and machines and discovered medicine. Soon no one had to wait for a healer to arrive to mend a wound nor did they have to wait for a powerful touch user to move large objects or build great structures.”

Inez leaned forward. “What does this have to do with us, and where has this magic been? Why doesn’t anyone know about it?” She watched Mark intently, but with a frown on her face.

“You,” Mark said, glancing around, “are all magic users.”

Silence followed the announcement.

Lys cleared her throat. “Uh, is that why Brady can crumple metal doors like newspaper?”

Mark nodded. “He already guessed his sense.”

He flexed his fingers as he looked at his palms. “It’s gotta be touch, but you said touch could heal people. Can I do that?”

“Not everyone,” Mark grinned. “I couldn’t heal a paper cut, but I can push things with my feet as well as my hands. Everyone is different.”

Lys tried to process this. Magic? Really? The logical side of her brain didn’t want to entertain the idea. However, she’d seen Brady destroy doors and cars, and she’d seen Kamau send a wave of tile floor at the guys in black. The whole world as she knew it was changing faster than she could keep track.

Kamau, who had thus far been silent, spoke. “What is the origin of the magic?”

“Good question,” Mark said, pointing his finger. “Magic comes from the world—mostly from living things. Kind of like the Force, but on a very specific level.”

“So we’re Jedi?” Brady asked, bouncing in his seat.

“No.”

“Where has this magic been?” Inez asked again. “Why do we suddenly have it?” Her tone still betrayed her disbelief. Lys was right there with her.

“Technology has,” Mark hesitated, “disrupted the magic of our world. The ability to use magic sits dormant in blood lines for a long time. It’s likely that one or more of your ancestors was a powerful user.”

“User?” Lys asked. Peter had said Brady was using. “You make it sound like drugs.”

“Not drugs.” Mark shook his head. “But some of the effects are the same. It’s different for everyone.”

“Speaking of different,” Brady started. He was staring into Inez’s eyes. “Why are everyone’s eyes a different color? I like the red better.”

Lys risked a look. Yes, Inez’s eyes were indeed swirling red, just like Peter’s. Why hadn’t they been doing that the whole time?

Inez smacked him on the shoulder. “Stop staring.”

Brady’s face lit up like he’d just got a new video game.

Mark went on. “Besides being divided into the five senses, magic is also divided into five levels. The levels range from complete chaos to neutral to anchored.”

“More lame names,” Brady said.

Mark ignored him. “Some call the levels infancy, adolescence, adulthood, middle-age, and ancient. Either way works.”

“What do they mean?” Inez asked, her swirling red eyes regarding Mark with renewed interest.

“They coincide with a person’s raw power versus their control capabilities. Black eyes are an indicator of chaos. More power than most, but also a lack of precision that can be dangerous. Red, like Inez, means adolescence or chaos neutral. Not quite as much power, but more control. Gold, like Lys, means she is adult or neutral.”

“My eyes are gold?” Lys asked. Her hand flew to her bad eye. The fingers appeared in her vision. The eye patch she’d been wearing was still pushed up on her head, right where Kamau had left it.

“Check it out, they look cool!” Brady said, pointing to the wall behind her.

“They?” Lys asked. “But my eye . . . the doctors said I would never see out of it again.”

No one spoke. Lys steeled herself and turned, gazing at her reflection in the cracked, oval mirror on the wall. Lys could still see the scarred gouges around her right eye. Most of them had faded, but the two deep ones probably wouldn’t ever disappear. Nervously, Lys turned her attention to her eyes. Her normally blue irises were swirling gold, like a paintbrush moving through a vat of sparkling, golden paint.

“Wow.” They were beautiful. Both of them. “But how?” She looked at Mark.

He shrugged. “I have no idea. A good question for Mason maybe.”

“So what does gold mean again?” Brady asked.

“Users with gold eyes have the best balance of control and power.” Mark waved a hand. “Light blue is middle-aged or neutral stable—they lean more to the control side with less power. And finally, those with silver eyes are ancient or stable—master of control, but not much power.”

“So what I’m hearing is that I’m a baby touch user?” Brady asked, wrinkling his nose.

“That’s right,” Mark said, laughing.

“Why would you want to be ancient?” Brady asked.

“Think of it like the martial arts. There are those who can hit or kick so hard they can hurt anyone, but it takes a lot of energy and it’s not very precise. A master who can hit someone in exactly the right spot doesn’t need as much power to get the same effect. Both ends of the spectrum have their pros and their cons.”

“Can you change your level?” Lys asked.

“No. At least not that anyone has ever heard of. Your level is born inside of you. There is some leeway in learning more control or more power, but it doesn’t go far. You get what you get and you learn to work with it.”

“Which level are you?” Kamau inquired.

“Chaos, like Brady.”

Lys remembered Kamau’s eyes in the tunnel. “You’re anchored,” she said.

“I guess so.” Kamau shrugged. “Brady said my eyes were silver.”

“So,” Brady propped his chin in his hand, looking at Inez. “I can see that you’re eyes are red, but what is your sense?”

Inez’s eyebrows knit together. “I don’t know.”

Mark asked, “What happens to people when you use on them?”

Before Inez could answer, Brady put his head in his hands. “Oh, man. Not again,” he said, moaning.

“What is it?” Lys asked.

“He used too much,” Peter said, shaking his head.

“I didn’t use anything,” Brady said in a flat voice. His hands started to shake, and Lys saw him curl in on himself. “I just feel so bad.”

Inez, who sat next to him, stood. “He’s going to lose it.”

“He’s not going to lose it,” Mark said.

“That’s what you said about her.” Inez jabbed a finger in Lys’s direction.

“She’s fine. Breaking is rough.” Mark turned his attention to Brady. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment Brady didn’t answer, and when he did, the despair in his voice broke Lys’s heart.

“I just can’t stop myself,” he said, gripping his hair in his fingers and pulling. “I’ll hurt someone.”

Those words—the tone of his voice; they all combined together in Lys’s mind, and she knew exactly how he felt. This must be his own Need. After seeing what he did to inanimate objects, Lys had no desire to find out what happened if he lost control.

“Can’t you help him?” she asked Mark.

“He needs to learn to control it.”

“Control what?”

“The magic,” Mark said. “If you can’t control the magic, it controls you.”

Chapter 15

“You can
control it?” Inez asked, shooting Mark a questioning look.

“Sure,” Mark said. His eyes stayed on Brady, who started to rock back and forth. “Can you handle it?” Mark asked.

Brady shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Try,” Mark said.

“How?” Brady whimpered.

“Channel the energy to where you can deal with it,” Mark said, leaning forward. Lys noticed one hand poised, ready to touch Brady.

“There’s so much, and it wants me to . . .” Brady trailed off. He didn’t have to say it. Lys knew what he was talking about. Maybe they all did.

Well, everyone except for Kamau. Lys stole a glance at him and found no recognition or understanding emanating from his eyes. Instead he looked curious, like Brady was an exhibit at the zoo.

“I can’t,” Brady said, his voice almost a sob. One of his hands jerked down to the chair, and his fingers closed over the arm rest. The cloth and wood splintered and caved under his touch, the arm breaking off with a crunch. His head came up and his other hand jerked forward, reaching out for Peter. Peter jumped up and into the chair, out of reach. Mark’s hand shot in and a flash of blue appeared as he touched Brady’s arm.

Brady froze. His fingers twitched, then his reaching arm went limp, falling to his lap.

“Better?” Mark asked, hardly a trace of concern in his voice.

Brady didn’t say anything, but Peter pointed and said, “What did you do?”

Mark shrugged. “It’s a shock of static electricity. One of my specialties.”

“And it stops you from using your powers?” Peter asked.

“Only for a little while. Usually long enough for someone to get back in control.”

Inez frowned. “If you just used your magic, what happens to you?”

“Same thing that happens to anyone else. I’m sure the two of you have experienced the side effects of using.” Mark looked at Inez and then Peter.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Inez said.

“How do you cope?” Mark asked as he turned his attention back to Brady, who had his head in his hands again.

“Depends,” Inez said, glancing away. “It just depends on what we have to work with.”

Mark nodded.

Lys listened to them. She looked at Brady, then over at Kamau who still seemed more interested than concerned. “What just happened?”

Everyone turned to look at her. Maybe the words came out harsher than she intended, but it didn’t matter.

“Well?” she asked. “Sorry, but I don’t get it.” She turned to Kamau first, but he just shook his head.

Next she set her sights on Mark. “What’s going on?”

Mark sat back, sighing. “Using magic isn’t free.”

“Okay,” Lys said, “so what does it cost?” The comment was supposed to be flippant, but Mark studied her for a moment before answering.

“Good way to put it.” He paused. They all waited. “Using magic is better than anything you’ve done before. It enhances your senses in ways you can’t even imagine. But . . .” he trailed off, narrowing his eyes. “But it takes a toll. It leaves you wanting more, and the more usually involves something unsavory.”

Lys knew immediately that he had to be talking about the Need. “Using magic feels good?” she asked, trying to understand.

“It sure does,” Peter said. “Really good.”

Nothing about the Need felt good, except when she hurt people. “Wait, whatever I just went through didn’t feel good.”

Mark shook his head. “No, breaking isn’t fun. When you learn to channel, that’s when it gets better.”

“Better?” Lys didn’t like the turn this conversation just took. “What do you mean?” The image of her living the rest of her life battling between the Need and magic (if that’s even what was going on) left her shaking her head. No, Mr. Mason promised to help her. He promised to cure her.

“Better,” Mark agreed. “It still takes work, but I haven’t met anyone yet who can’t learn control.”

“Learn control?” Inez asked. She shot icy daggers at Mark. “We’ve been searching for a cure.”

“A cure?” Mark cocked his head to the side. “You don’t need a cure, just some training.”

“There’s no cure?” Lys asked. An invisible hand reached out and socked Lys in the stomach. She hadn’t realized just how much hope laid in that little word. Cure. Hope. An end to all of this. The slippery footing her mind had been perched on fell away, and with it the possibility of ever being normal again.

“No,” Mark said. “Mr. Mason thought you were a magic user, and when he knew for sure, he came for you. He trains magic users—helps them through breaking and then teaches them how to use properly.”

Lys didn’t hear anything after the no. No cure. Her heart fell through her body and landed at her feet with a resounding thud. No hope. The last string that lead back to normality had just been cut, and as the end fluttered around her mind, she broke again. Only this time there wasn’t any magic involved. This time she felt her sanity give way.

“I have to use the bathroom,” Lys said as she shot to her feet. “Where is it?” She could hear the crazy in her voice, but didn’t care. She had to get out of there.

“Down the hall, to the left,” Inez said, pointing.

Someone said her name, but Lys ignored them. She walked briskly from the room. Passing the bathroom, Lys dredged up a vision she’d seen when she broke. Another way out of this place lay at the end of this hall. A bolted door greeted her trembling hands, but Lys didn’t bother with the handle. Instead she knelt down and pushed on the bottom panel of the door. It gave way, and she wriggled through.

Fear and anger pulsed in her veins. Her mind rushed ahead, thinking about what she would do as soon as she got to a phone. First she’d call her parents. Her dad knew plenty of people in Las Vegas. Someone would come to pick her up. Or at least take her to the hospital where she could be properly chained down.

The rough surface of the Velcro straps still chafed Lys’s wrists in her dreams. She unconsciously rubbed one of them as her feet tried to catch up with her mind. The dark hallway ended abruptly, but another door stood in front of her. This time she tried the handle. It turned.

Without a thought as to who or what might be on the other side—frankly a police officer would be welcome right now—Lys pushed the door open and went through.

This time she found herself in a storage room full of costumes and boxes. Racks of dresses, feathered boas, sexy shoes, and skimpy undergarments crowded most of the space. Another door on the far wall stood open. Lys looked back and found that the door she had come through didn’t have a handle on this side. In fact, as she let it swing closed, it almost entirely disappeared, blending into the wall and leaving only a small seam.

In another time and place she would have been thrilled to find a secret door into the basement of a Vegas night club, or theater, but now she didn’t care. All she wanted to do was get out of here. If Mr. Mason couldn’t cure her, then maybe someone else could.

Lys walked through the storage room, her shoulders brushing the gaudy costumes, her eyes glued to the far door. If she got lucky, one of the performers would be down here and they would let her use their cell phone to call her parents.

A haze settled over Lys as she moved. The hallway outside stood empty, and Lys walked down it, looking for someone to help her. Or at least a way out. However, her brain seemed to be disconnected from her actions, and she had a hard time making decisions about which way to go. The lights were on, but no one was home.

The basement soon became a frustrating maze for Lys. The haze morphed into gray which turned into different perspectives, and Lys shook her head. She stumbled through the hallways, trying to figure out which view from her eyes was her own. Panic threatened to bring her to her knees, but Lys fought it.

Finally, after forever, Lys saw a green and white sign that said “EXIT.” She stumbled toward it, tears streaming down her face. Stairs led up and Lys couldn’t climb them, so she crawled, her hands groping for the handle. Freedom and escape from the madness her life had become lay just beyond that door. If she could get there, she could get help.

Her hands brushed the bar, and Lys pushed. Her fingers slipped off and she almost face planted into the door. A snarl of frustration escaped and Lys threw herself at the bar, pushing with everything she had. The surface gave way, and she fell, hands crashing onto a cement landing.

Light touched the night sky, but only from one direction. Stale, desert air blew through her hair, filling her nostrils with the stench of body odor, alcohol, and tobacco. Lys got to her feet, still holding on to the door, and caressed the concrete wall of the building. For a moment Lys forgot the horror of her life and reveled in the normality that lay before her. Then a car went by the alley, tires screeching, and snapped her out of it.

Lys let go of the door, hoping that allowing it to shut behind her would rid her of the world of magic and men in armor. She could deal with the Need just as long as it was the only thing she had to deal with.

Crazed euphoria filled Lys, and she felt her lips curl up into a manic grin. She lurched down the three concrete stairs and kept going for the end of the alley. Vegas never slept. Someone had to be around.

She heard humming and didn’t realize the sound came from her until she got close to the end of the buildings. The random tune came from her lips unbidden, and she laughed at herself.

The scrape of feet on asphalt behind her brought her up short.

“Hey, what we got here?”

Dread washed the euphoria away, and Lys suddenly felt more grounded than she had in days.

“She’s a looker,” a guy’s voice said from behind her.

“And she looks lost.”

Lys closed her eyes. Crap.

“Hey little lady,” the first voice said in a heavy, southern accent. “You need some help?”

Right, like they were going to help her. Lys didn’t stop walking, but she did turn so she could see her “helpers.”

Four big guys occupied the alley behind her. All of them walked with an overconfidence that only came with getting exactly what you wanted, and all of them leered at her with the hungry eyes of animals in heat.

“Oh, I’m good,” Lys said, trying to sound nonchalant. Her heart started making its way up into her throat. Thirty feet to the road.

“What are you doing out here all alone, darlin’?” the guy with the southern accent asked, stepping after her.

“Just meeting a friend.” Lys shrugged. “For coffee.” Twenty feet to the road.

“Where at?” another of the guys asked.

“Starbucks.” There had to be a dozen Starbucks in Las Vegas, right?

The end of the alley lay about fifteen feet away, but now the guys were closing fast.

“Forget your friend, darlin’. You come get some coffee with us.”

“Uh, no thanks.” She managed a forced smile, glancing over her shoulder. “He gets kind of jealous if he sees me with other guys.” Ten feet to go. She wasn’t going to make it.

The southern guy raised his eyebrows. “Well then, we’ll just have to avoid the Starbucks for a while.”

They all closed at once, lunging forward, hands outstretched for her. Lys cried out, turning, hoping she could make it to the end of the alley before they got her. However, she didn’t encounter open air. Instead her face crashed into another guy’s chest.