Dev flipped off the screen. “And you callFlux Bondedtrash.”
Before I could respond, the door chime sounded.
In walked a woman, a bit older than me, maybe thirty-five. She wore a loose coat with a large hood that swung as she walked. Her Vysor flared red, illuminating the rich color of her skin. Plastered to her side was a young boy, his fingers gripping that coat like he was hanging on for dear life.
Dev’s face shifted from the jokester I knew well to his calmer, soothing face he saved for patients. He walked around the small counter we sat at.
“You must be Ms. Smith. And you, Mr. Tom Smith,” he said, looking between the woman and her son.
“Yes, I know you said Tommy was too young for the procedure, but—”
Dev gave a sad smile. “Yes, we do not perform the procedure before twelve years of age. Such a thing is against HIRCA regulations and would endanger my practice. I explained this all in my communications.”
“I know, it’s just—” Ms. Smith began, when Tommy interrupted her.
“You have to! I can’t control it!” His eyes were wide with fear—a fear I knew well. His dark eyes swirled with it and a raw power that was just awakening in him.
Dev knelt down at Tommy’s level. “I know what’s happening to your body is scary, but giving you a Flux chip early can cause major harm to your—”
“No! You have to! I don’t care about me. I don’t want to hurt my mom again.” Tears streamed from his eyes as his mother jerked him back.
“Tommy, that’s enough. Dr. Chopra knows what’s best.”
Dev and I exchanged a look when Tommy wrenched out of his mother’s grasp.
“No!” He yanked on the sleeve of her jacket and the hood fell back. Dev let out a soft gasp.
Ms. Smith had long, braided hair. She’d tried to use it to hide the burn on her neck, but it was too large. It had singed from her collarbone, up her neck, and into her hairline. The wound was still fresh enough to be oozing under the makeshift bandages she’d tried to apply.
Tommy was crying in earnest now. “I didn’t mean to! I—I just get so angry sometimes, I don’t know why. And then I can’t control it.” His shoulders heaved with sobs, and I rushed out from behind the counter and wrapped an arm around him.
“It’s all right. We know. We know you didn’t mean to.”
He leaned into my shoulder and cried, and beneath my hand, I felt all of his skin heat to an uncomfortable temperature.
Dev was still looking at the women’s neck. “How long has he been manifesting to this level?”
Ms. Smith pulled her hood back up. “A few months. Please, he’s my baby. I can’t let him—” Now she was crying too, but silently, hiding it from her son who still sobbed on my shoulder.
Dev pushed back her hood again, looking at her burn. “Did you see someone to have this treated?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve heard rumor about kids who manifest early…disappearing.”
Dev’s lips set into a hard line. “You don’t need to worry anymore, Ms. Smith. I’ll take care of you both.”
He walked behind the counter and pulled out a bottle of healing gel. We watered it down—too expensive otherwise—but it was still effective. He unscrewed the cap before gently removing her sagging bandages, then waved his fingers. I watched the liquid rise out of the bottle, float through the air, and spread itself over her wounds. Dev used his water Flux to hold the gel in place, and Ms. Smith let out a sigh of relief.
One hand still raised in concentration, he grabbed Tommy’s shoulder and gently pulled him out of my grasp, leading him back to his operating theater.
“E, you’ll watch the front,” he said with a hard edge. No need to voice the unspoken warning. Keep prying eyes out.
“Of course, Dev. I’ve got it.”
CHAPTER 6
CY
Ileaned back in my chair until the whole thing groaned in protest underneath me. Morning stand-up dragged on a good day, and after the Tanaka job last night, I'd needed to burn off some energy. A few too many hits of Vector had led me to some underground club in Blue District where the bass line matched my electromagnetic pulse perfectly.
