The Wicked City (6 page)

June twisted her lips.

“They took one look at your eyes,” Sam said, “and they knew.”

“My eyes? What about my eyes?”

“They’re very green,” Cindy said.

“I thought you were wearing contacts the first time I met you,” Micha said.

“I know they’re really green. I’ve had them my entire life.”

“Your eyes are connected to your brain,” Sam said. “The stronger your power, the more your eyes are affected.” He widened his own at her, dark and gleaming. “How powerful are you? Aural captivators are rare, but not undocumented. I’ve heard about the Siren Song.”

“That’s a myth,” she said sharply.

“What’s a Siren Song?” Cindy asked.

“A strong enough aural captivator,” Sam said, “can harm a person with their voice. Maybe even kill them. So they say.”

“Are you going to help me or not?” June sat forward. “Or are we just gonna talk shit all day? If you can’t do anything for me, tell me, so I can find someone who can.”

“Yes, I’m going to help you. But you have to give me a little time. Right now, go get some air and calm down. I need to make some phone calls.”

The room had a balcony. She took Sam’s advice and went out for another cigarette. Towers loomed around her like watchful giants, the world buzzing around their bases far below. The air ripped and pulled at her hair and clothes.

After a few minutes, Micha stepped out, not wearing a coat. He walked to the railing where she stood. June finished her cigarette and flicked the butt out into the wind.

“I’m not angry at you,” Micha said. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“Yeah, and how do you know that? You don’t know me.”

“I think you wouldn’t look at me the way you do if you didn’t feel some remorse.”

She didn’t respond.

Micha jerked his chin outward. “What do you think of it? Chicago?”

She bent over and rested her arms on the railing.

“Doesn’t matter what I think of it. Jason, he’d be acting like a stupid tourist right now. It’s not like L.A., where he lives. For one, you don’t have as many pretentious douche bags walking around.”

Micha chuckled. “You just haven’t been to the right places yet.” He shifted toward her. “This is a true metropolis. Something to behold. Intimidating sometimes, but majestic. A testament to what humans can create. It’s an entity, you know. We as entities create other entities. That’s what humans do.”

“You’re not from here, are you? No one talks about where they live like that.”

“I am, actually. I guess I’m just not jaded.”

June almost said “you will be,” but Micha didn’t need any more negativity.

“So your brother is an actor in L.A.?” Micha said. “You and I haven’t really talked much, have we?”

“It’s not been a very good time for socializing. And yes, he is. He does more grunt work at studios than acting right now, but he’s working on it.”
Was
working on it? She pushed the terrible thought away.

“Has he been in any movies?”

“He’s done some extra work. A few commercials. Had a small part in a TV pilot, but it never got picked up.”

“You know, it’s okay that you ran.”

She squinted against the wind. Micha’s hair fluttered over his forehead, his own eyes squinted as well.

“Tell my brother that.”

“Out here, on the run, you still have a chance to save him. In there, if you’d let them catch you? You’d
both
be screwed.”

Her hands trembled from the cold. Or emotion. Or both.

“Right now both our lives are messed up,” Micha said. “But we have to figure out the right thing to do before more people get hurt. Before anyone else goes down because of this.”

Putting the needs of others first. She being selfish as she was, she didn't know if she could ever tolerate someone like that.

“You’re a good man, Micha.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know me.”

The air whistled around the balcony and pushed under her shirt like a solid icy mass.

“Why don’t we go back inside?” Micha motioned to the door. “It’s cold out here.”

She stood up and turned away from the railing. “All right.”

Back inside, Cindy had a fresh glass of whiskey. Sam leaned on the back of the sofa he’d been sitting on, cell phone to his ear, hip jutted out. June walked around him and discreetly checked him out, or so she thought.

“I saw that,” Sam murmured.

She shrugged and flopped down in her spot next to Micha on the other sofa.

Sam lowered the phone and pressed it against his shoulder. “June, who was the lead researcher on your study?”

She struggled to recall. “John…McKormic? I think. Short guy, balding. Obnoxious.”

“Do you know him?” Sam asked Micha.

“I know who he is,” Micha said. “I’ve talked to him at fundraisers. He’s a brilliant man, created more efficient research techniques, made them more streamlined and specific.”

“So jacking my blood was his idea.” June scowled.

Sam placed the phone back to his ear. “John McKormic? Do you know him?” A pause as he listened. “Yes. Send someone to have a chat with him, someone who can get some information. Send a witch if you have to.”

Cindy jerked her head around.

“Find out if the other Coffin twin is alive,” Sam said. “Call me back at this number.”

Sam took the phone from his ear and clicked off. “So you know this guy, Micha? This researcher?”

“We’re not best friends or anything, but he knows me. I’m sure he knew my…wife, too, if she worked at the Institute.”

“Well then, we need to make sure he doesn’t see you, since he’ll recognize you. You’re staying here at the hotel until further notice, with June.”

“We’re staying here?” June asked.

“You want my help, you get my protection. Package deal.”

“So benevolent,” June said. “We could just go in and shoot up the place, too. Cindy would love to help with that, I’m sure.”

She shot June a glare.

“Completely realistic,” Sam replied. “You’ll keep your ass here until otherwise told not to.”

June saluted him. “Aye aye, Captain.”

“Good, you passed your second test. We’re getting somewhere.”

“What was the second test?” June asked.

“Doing what I tell you to, without question. Cute
and
smart. Cindy, I’m having Robbie come pick you up.”

“I am
not
cute,” June said.

A huge flat screen TV hung on the wall between the two sofas; June sprawled on one, Micha the other. They were watching a news program. She couldn’t pay attention though. Everything about her current situation bothered her—lying down, watching TV, cozy and safe while somewhere, in the depths of the foreign city surrounding her, her brother languished as a prisoner. If he still lived at all.

Sam’s bodyguard, Muse, had returned about an hour before, and she and Sam left together, Sam declaring he had “important business” to take care of. He gave them strict instructions not to leave the room in his absence. June had no intention of wandering around the hotel showing off a lack of common sense or taking a stroll down Michigan Avenue with a big target on her back.

“Does Sam live in this hotel or something?” June asked.

Micha wasn’t watching TV, either. He was stretched out, shoes off, arm propped on the back of the sofa. “I don’t know.” He sounded distracted and distant. “I don’t know a lot about Sam. Just that he’s gregarious. I mostly try to avoid him. I’ve only actually met him once before today.”

“Why doesn’t he like you?”

“Because I’m a normal. He doesn’t think I should be sticking my nose in paranormal affairs.”

“But you help paranormal people, right? All that activism stuff?”

“Not to his specifications.”

She gazed at the ceiling, at the dull afternoon light stretched across the swirled plaster. “So what’s Sam’s specialty? Besides belligerence? And clearly being insane. What’s his super-duper special paranormal power?”

“Not really sure about that, either. People say he doesn’t have any abilities. He’s just crazy and thinks he does. I know he’s got something, though, or his followers wouldn’t flock to him. He told a reporter one time his ability depends on subterfuge. It works better if no one knows about it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, he’s clearly not a mind reader, or he wouldn’t need that little girl. You think they’re screwing?”

“It’s hard to tell.”

They were quiet for a minute, the TV droning away on the wall, newscasters jabbering back and forth.

“I’ve been thinking about the Institute,” Micha's voice was soft.

“I’m trying not to.”

“All the years I worked with them, all the times I’ve been there…” He didn’t sound particularly distressed, more wondering than hurt. “They brought you there from the airport?”

“Yeah, they sent a driver to pick us up.”

“Did you see the big sculpture out front, in the courtyard?”

She tried to recall the details of their arrival. A small crowd of protestors had been gathered out in front of the tall, white building and they drew most of her attention. Some of them looked bored, sitting on the curb with their signs propped against their legs. The driver explained with a chuckle they were always around, every day, though they had little reason to get excited unless someone important or a news station showed up. The sculpture Micha was referring to rose from a broad circular fountain in the middle of the courtyard—a huge, granite angel with arms and wings gloriously spread. The sculpture was pretty. Jason had certainly seemed fascinated by it.

“Yeah,” she said. “Sorta. I was paying more attention to the protestors.”

“It’s called
Benevolence
.”

She snorted. “It should be called
Irony
.”

“A lot of people don’t like that the Institute is in the Illinois Medical District. Detractors say the Institute can’t be classified as a medical facility because they don’t do medical research. Supporters counter they study human physiology there, which makes it a medical facility.”

“If we’re lucky,” June said, “they’ll blow it up. Then everyone’ll be happy.”

Micha was silent. The revelation had to be difficult for him, his once happy place now a fortress of villainous bullshit. Unfortunately, Micha needed to learn no good deed went unpunished.

“How did you discover your abilities?” Micha asked.

She welcomed the change of subject, even if the subject they switched to wasn’t one she enjoyed discussing.

“Hell if I remember.” She hoped the words sounded casual enough that Micha wouldn’t pick up on the lie. “People didn’t know as much about supernatural stuff when I was a kid, so Jason and I didn’t know we were different for a while.”

“What made you realize it?”

She shrugged. “We were spoiled. Kids, teachers, even our parents, they’d just do whatever we wanted. We didn’t think it was strange. Then around second or third grade, people started noticing we were weird.” An old anxiety stirred in her gut. “Around that time we found out for ourselves we were screwed up.”

“People always find out. One way or another. I saw how my sisters were treated.”

“Yeah. Our parents split up because of us. Always fighting about discipline, about all the stress we put on them. They must have thought they were losing their minds. My dad hated us. He was afraid of us. Me, especially. Jason quit using his power around the time we realized we had it.”

Micha turned his face to her, frowning. “That must have been rough.”

“Yeah, well. When we were fifteen, we moved with our mom from Rhode Island to California to get away from him. She got an offer from an opera company in Los Angeles. Singing’s her passion. Fitting, huh?”

Micha smiled faintly.

“California gave me a place to rebel like crazy. I lied about my age, got an apprenticeship in a tattoo shop, learned my skills. Then I filled my head with holes and covered my skin with ink. My mother was relieved, I think. Normal teenage bullshit versus being a freak of nature.”

“You’re not a freak of nature. Paranormal abilities are not a disease.”

“It’s easy for you to say that.” She tried to keep the bile out of her voice. Micha probably heard it enough. “Our mother got this guy to come over to our apartment and talk to us a couple times a week. He was impervious to our abilities, so he could teach us how to control them. That was when, you know, all this stuff started to become ‘science.’”

“Was he a vampire?”

“A vampire?”

“Vampires can block most paranormal abilities.”

“Hell, I don’t know.” She heaved herself into a sitting position. “Doesn’t matter, though. It was what it was. It is what it is.”

“Eloquently put.”

She sat quiet for a moment, knees drawn up, elbows resting on them. “What about you? What was it like being the odd one out?”

“You don’t want to hear about that.”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Micha rubbed his face. “It’s boring and inconsequential. Another time.”

“Unfair. After I just told you my darkest secrets.”

“Life isn’t fair. And you wouldn’t want it to be. That would mean all the bad stuff happens because you deserve it.”

She grinned. “It’s a good thing you’re hot. Otherwise, by now I would have punched you in the face for all these gems of wisdom you keep flinging at me.”

Micha sat up too, on one elbow. “So are you in a relationship? Got a special lady?”

“Oh my God, stop.”

Micha laughed.

She feared she might actually blush. “No. I don’t want a boyfriend. Not right now.”

“I don’t remember introducing you to my wife. I do remember meeting you. I remember what I thought of you when I met you.”

“You thought I was an uncouth, nasty little punk girl, didn’t you? Most people do. You probably still think that. Because I am.”

“I thought you were absolutely fascinating, and I still do.”

“I bet you say that to all the supernatural girls.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t really know me, Micha. You don’t really know yourself right now.”

Micha sat up fully and swung his long legs over the side of the sofa. “There you go with ‘you don’t know me’ again. I know you’d like me to kiss you.”