Odette had told me she’d heard me during a seizure and my voice had helped her. With my free hand, I blocked her spasming arm that was hitting the cobbles over and over. The twitching and uneven breathing slowed down until she lay still, her head in my lap.
A couple of ladies passing by slowed their paces. They cast horrified glances at the girl.
“How awful. She should be locked up.”
“In broad daylight!”
“Where is she supposed to have a seizure?” I snapped. “Only at night?”
They scurried away, muttering nonsense under their breaths.
“Don’t listen to them.” I brushed a golden curl of hair from her pale face and frowned when my not-so-clean fingers left a smudge on her cheek. She smelt of orange blossoms and talcum powder. I felt like a dirty ogre. “You’re fine. It’s going away.”
She blinked slowly, trying to say something.
“Don’t talk.” I released her arm. “I’m not going to leave you until you’re all right.”
The gentleman came out of a side alley, his face distorted with rage. “Stay away from my daughter!”
“I wasn’t… Sod it.” I removed her head from my lap as gently and quickly as I could and ran off.
A brick wall closed the alley, but climbing it wouldn’t be a problem. I could drop the loot behind me and let the gentlemanhave it while I escaped, but the wallet sat heavy in my pocket. It had to be full of banknotes. There wasn’t the ghost of a chance I would renounce that ready.
“Boy!” The man’s voice came loud and clear.
Dammit. He was like a bloodhound.
I leapt and grabbed the top of the wall, but a strong hand pulled me down. Pain burst in the back of my head when the man slammed me against the cobbles. White light exploded in front of me.
And that was it. Darkness.
2
A SECOND CHANCE
Irene
My late mother had always said that diplomacy was the art of convincing someone that your idea belonged to them.
Judging by Papa’s scowl, I wasn’t doing a good job.
The fact I was able to detect his feelings confirmed he was annoyed by my insistence.
People’s feelings had always assaulted my senses. Mama had been afflicted with the same curse. Sadness, happiness, pain, anger… I experienced people’s emotions as if they were mine. Growing up, I’d learnt to protect myself from external feelings, but it was an exhausting struggle I often lost.
If I focused on breathing deeply and on the feelings of one person, I might avoid a seizure.
“Would you please listen?” I sat next to him on the sofa in the sitting room. Our physician was visiting the thief Papa had knocked out that morning. “That young man is our responsibility. He’s unconscious, and who knows what kind ofinjury you inflicted on him? Not to mention that you caught him because he’d stopped to help me.” Which filled me with gratitude and awe.
Papa’s facial muscles twitched in an attempt to contain his botheration, and light brown tinted his aura. My curse also allowed me to see feelings as colours glowing around people’s heads.
Papa didn’t soften. “I listened to you when you told me to bring him home and send for Dr. Fletcher. I think that’s enough.”
“Don’t send for the police.” I put a hand on his arm.
“He stole my wallet.”
“Did you take a good look at him? He’s so thin, pale, and weak. He must be starving. Being imprisoned won’t help him.”
