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"There are othertests?"
"Yes." Michel picks up his swords and puts them on the table and then takes the wooden practice swords fromme.
"That was the most important one, but yes, there areothers."
He comes back to my side. In his hand is a dagger, which he places in my hand, closing my fingers aroundit.
"When you hold this, what do yousee?"
I frown and try to pull my hands away, but he holds themfirmly.
"Just let your mind blank for a moment. Remember the connection I showed you the other night. Think of how it felt. Open yourself to the knife. Let the images come to you. Don't beafraid."
I relent and focus on the dagger, its steel blade shining in the overhead light. I remember when Michel touched me the night we met and that strange connection that formed between us. I glance down at my hands on the blade and try to imagine forming that kind of connection withit.
The ivory hilt has strange symbols etched that resemble letters from the Russian Cyrillic alphabet. I turn it over in my hand and close my eyes, trying to blank my mind as Michel instructs. Then I feel as if the ground beneath my feet heaves and my stomach lurches with it. The world around me disappears and I'm in a room somewhere, the walls dirty, pockmarked, the furniture worn. On a table, plates and cups are stacked, half-empty bottles line up beside them, and in the center is an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. Everything is covered in flecks ofcrimson.
I turn in the vision and see a man leaning back in his chair, a bloody gash from one side of his neck to the other, the blood flowing down his chest, bubbles of blood frothing out of his mouth. The scent of blood is thick, turning my stomach and I glance down and see blood covering my hands and arms, and in my hand is the bloodydagger.
I'm trying to cut off the man'shead.
I cry out, dropping the blade. As soon as I do, the vision dissipates and I'm back at the dojo. Michel reaches out to steady me as vertigo strikes, holding me up as my bearings return, taking one of my hands inhis.
"Tell me what yousaw."
I look in his eyes. "I saw," I say struggling to speak over my dizziness. "I saw a man with his throat slit. I was covered in blood. The dagger was in myhand…"
"Yes," he says. "It was used in a recent murder. I brought it along to show you what your gift is. This is why you're sovaluable."
I close my eyes for a moment and try to calm myself. When I feel somewhat better, I try to pull my hand out of his but he resistsme.
"How are youfeeling?"
"I'm fine," I say and finally, Michel lets go of my hand. "I feel a bit dizzy, that'sall."
He nods. "It affects people differently." He bends down and picks up the dagger, returning it to thetable.
"What happened? How did I dothat?"
"You have touch telepathy, like I already said. But more than that, you can feel memory traces of violence in the objects you touch. When humans commit violent acts, their extreme emotions leave traces in the material they touch – weapons, everyday objects that have been touched soon afterwards. This exists at the quantum level and persists over time, depending on the material. In some materials, it persists longer, in others much shorter. After a while, the traces lose their power and vanish so it has to be relatively recentviolence."
"How long does itlast?"
"Depends on the person who left the trace, depends on the intensity of the event, depends on the material. Could be a few hours, a few days, or evenweeks."
"I've never felt itbefore."
"You've led a very sheltered life. You've been kept from violence on purpose because your parents wanted to mute your gift, keep it from being used. If you had grown up in a violent environment, you would have felt it and it would have really bothered you. Since you weren't, you have to learn to use it, learn to focus it like any skill. The more you do this, the better you willget."
I try to understand what just happened and glance around, hoping to shut the awful image off in my mind'seye.
"Agent O'Neil will take you upstairs to sign some papers and let you know when the next test will take place. Go." He nods toward AgentO'Neil.
O'Neil leads me to the door to the stairwell and to the third floor. I glance back at Michel as I leave thedojo.
He's smiling tohimself.
* * *
