AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When the fog dissipated, the guy was gone, and Adam and I were standing in the outer aisle. Jaime saw us and nodded.
"Wow," she said. "And I thought my special effects were good. Hey, Kat?"
Kat's voice came over the loudspeaker. "Yes, ma'am."
"Next show? Dry ice. Lots of it."
The audience laughed nervously, grateful for the excuse.
"Did he say I could raise the dead?" Jaime said. "You know, my mom used to say that, too. Every time I cranked up my stereo."
More laughter. People settled into their seats. Adam and I glanced at each other then headed for the door. A guard pulled it open for us.
"The end is coming." Jaime climbed onto the catwalk. "Can't give him any points for originality, can we?" When that spate of laugher died, her voice dropped an octave. "Some people believe that. I don't agree. But I know one thing. When our own end does come, we have nothing to fear, because there is an afterlife, with our loved ones waiting for us . . ."
The guard eased the door shut behind us, muffling her voice as she steered the show back on track.
five
A supernatural displaying his powers in public? And exhorting another to do the same? Unheard of. Occasionally a few will argue that it's time for "the big reveal"--for us to tell the world what we are--but they never gain much momentum . . . or many supporters.
It's a simple matter of statistics and history. Supernaturals account for a very small portion of the population, maybe half a percent. The vast majority of them are from minor races with powers so weak that most live their entire lives without ever realizing they are supernatural.
Whenever humans have discovered evidence of our existence, we've suffered. They've hunted us. They've tortured us. They've killed us. Would it be any different today? No. Most people today are enlightened enough not to burn us alive, but they'd still want to control us, test us, contain us. Having the power of numbers, they could do it.
Maybe the guy yelling at Jaime was mentally ill. We aren't as susceptible as humans to things like schizophrenia, but it does happen.
If he was mentally ill, though, he was high functioning, because by the time we got to the road, he was gone.
We jogged to the theater parking lot, hoping to see him peel out. No luck. He'd delivered his message and made his escape.
"Damn," I said as we walked back. "I was really hoping he was nuts. No one listens to crazy people."
Adam shrugged. "As far as most people are concerned, anyone talking about raising the dead is crazy. I doubt he's worth worrying about, but the council will need to follow up. This will help." He lifted his cell phone. He'd snapped a photo of the sorcerer. It was a decent shot, enough to confirm that I'd never seen the guy before in my life. Adam sent me a copy, and I filed it away to pass around to some contacts later.
We waited for Jaime in her dressing room.
"Well, that was a new one," she said as she walked in. "Normally supernaturals give me crap for being too open with my powers. Did you catch up to the guy?"
I shook my head. "Adam got a photo and we know his type--sorcerer, though that was obvious from the fog spell."
"He seemed to recognize Savannah," Adam said uneasily.
"And, for once, it wasn't just someone mistaking me for my mother. He said my name. Made me feel special."
"Just what you need." Adam grabbed a bottle of water from the tray. "Anyway, if Hope's feeling up to it, we should get her to run with the story."
Hope's day job was working for a tabloid. Specifically, she covered the paranormal, everything from Bigfoot sightings to alien encounters. Having her write about the incident might seem ill-advised, but that was how we handled a lot of exposure threats. Hope covered it, sprinkling in enough false information to throw serious paranormal investigators off the trail. Something like this was bound to hit the Internet, and nothing made people say "bullshit" like having the story featured in True News.
"There's something we need to talk to you about, too," Adam said. "The real reason we're here."
He glanced at me and, for a second, I didn't know what he was talking about. Then it all rushed back.
"What's up?" Jaime opened an icy bottle of water as she settled into a chair. "Jesse isn't suffering from any lingering effects, is he? That kind of possession can leave serious psychic bruises. They'll take time to heal."
"He's fine. It's me. I . . ." I've lost my spells. My power. It's gone. The words stuck in my throat.
"Are you okay?" She tightened the cap back on the bottle and rose. "I'm sure you're not, but--" She stopped, gaze shifting to the right in a look I knew well.
