“No—no problem.” The guy backpedaled a couple of steps, then turned around and power-walked out of the pizzeria.
The whole thing was such a blur, there wasn’t even enough time for Evelyn to be alarmed. “What? Oh my god. What was he—?”
“I didn’t like the look of the guy,” I said simply.
She blanched.
If she weren’t a federal agent, I would have offered more sympathy. But she was National, and if I did, it would only make things awkward. I gestured to the remains of our meal instead. “You want a doggie bag? Breakfast of champions.”
“I’ve had enough to last me a good long while,” Evelyn said. And she wasn’t just talking about the pizza.
We walked back to HQ in silence. The sketchy guy was nowhere to be seen—big surprise. Once they scatter, people like that squeeze through the cracks faster than startled cockroaches.
I was willing to let the sketchy guy incident go, but as we approached the bland FPMP building, Evelyn brought it up. “How did you sense what that man was up to?” she asked. “You’re a medium. As far as I know, that means no precognition, no telepathy.”
I shrugged. “Cop sense. But your empathy didn’t give you any warning?”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
Ah. If only I had a nickel for every time I’d said that…I could fill a sock with them and take a swing at that guy if he decided to come back.
“My empathic sense isn’t something that just registers regardless of whether or not I’m thinking about it, like hearing or sight. I really need to tune in. It takes focus and time before I get a read off someone. And even then, it’s pretty open to interpretation. I might sense that someone is upset, but it doesn’t tell me why. And usually, thewhyis the most important part.”
“Speaking of why….” Even as I seized on the idea, I felt shitty about it. But it needed to be said. “I know why Jacob’s been hounding you. He’s got his sights set on your project. I’m sure plenty of NPs would give their eyeteeth to discover a latent ability. But Jacob’s a Stiff—and no matter how much he might want talent, no amount of tech can make it happen.”
Evelyn gave me the most endearingly awkward shy smile. “I thought maybe I was just imagining him hovering.”
“He’s kind of hard to miss.”
“So it’s the SPECs he’s so interested in?”
Sheesh, hopefully she hadn’t interpreted his intensity as flirting. Though empaths get so little from him, who could say exactlywhatshe was picking up? “They are awfully cool,” I said. “Who wouldn’t wanna bring out their inner psych with something as easy as slipping on a fancy pair of glasses?” Especially since they could just fold it up and put it away to shut it off again.
Whoever churned out Auracel would need to diversify.
“But, listen,” I said. “Jacob can be relentless when he’s got his sights set on something, but I’d be grateful if you didn’t encourage him to try out the SPECs.” Jacob would be the ideal control subject. And the last thing we needed was some new piece of tech to negate all the testing that had guaranteed Jacob’s Stiffness.
We walked back into the FPMP building together, swiping our badges at the security checkpoint. As the elevator doors closed, guilt gnawed at my insides. Who was I to make this decision for Jacob? My husband was a grown man who could handle himself.
But this wasn’t about Jacob’s competence. This was about protecting him from himself.
We’d both seen firsthand how National operated. TKs were rarer than mediums, and if National knew what he could do, they’d be salivating to make him their guinea pig. By dinnertime, he’d be strapped to a table somewhere, with government scientists poking at his exposed brain.
I couldn’t let that happen.
So, I’d go behind Jacob’s back and lie to Evelyn. I would discourage her from letting him anywhere near those SPECs. Because I’d do whatever it took to keep his ability hidden, even if it meant making choices for him that weren’t mine to make.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JUST BECAUSE SOMETHING is the right thing to do doesn’t make it easy. On the way home, I had a hard time looking Jacob in the eye. Good thing he wasn’t an empath. My guilt would’ve given me away in a heartbeat.
And good thing I’m the poster child for resting bitch face. All it took was a few random complaints about the changes to Mood Blaster, and Jacob had no idea I was busy flagellating myself for going behind his back and dashing his high hopes.
At least…I didn’t think he had any idea. Though when we were crawling through a clogged intersection and he said, “I hope your day was at least more productive than mine,” I wasn’t so sure.
Normally, I might have “thanked” him for leaving me to do a bunch of paperwork myself, but it was bad enough I made off with Jacob’s quarry. I wasn’t about to compound the situation with playacting. He knew me well enough to spot any lie I might concoct.
A distraction, though? That, I could do. “Pull over,” I said, as we crept up on a parking spot someone else was just freeing up. We were maybe halfway home, on a mostly-residential street faced by storefronts with apartments above. Old Chicagoarchitecture with carved lintels and turn-of-the-century design, cheapened now by garish posters and neon signs.
