Chasing Power (Hidden Talents) (26 page)

“See, it’s like this.”  Crouching, Lane touched the back of the woman’s neck softly, tracing a path up towards the back of her head, “This is your cerebellum.  A little higher is the occipital lobe—that’s what handles the vision—and this is the parietal lobe, which handles language functions.  Now, the interesting thing about all of these different parts of your brain is that they are all connected by a series of veins and arteries.  They all require blood flow in order to operate.  If something happens to impede that blood flow, well that’s what they call an aneurysm.  And should your aneurysm burst well, that’s when you die or, if you’re lucky, simply lose that function of the brain.”

Sam smiled at the woman brightly, “The point of all this is to illustrate that as good as I am at taking out a fuel line and a crucial pinion on a motorcycle one hundred feet away, I’m even better at pinching itty bitty little veins shut.  And that isn’t messy at all.”

The woman swallowed heavily and, ever so slightly, cringed away from the two of them.

“You’re making one wonderful case for your life right now,” the woman said.  Her acting skills impressed Lane.  She looked and sounded cool, but the stink of fear oozed off her like sour milk.  It was almost too easy to reach in, to amplify that fear even more.  But she blazed on: “You got all this power and no care how you use it,” she said, “Are you really surprised that we want you eliminated?  And make no mistake, you’ll be eliminated.”    

Perfectly still, Sam stared at the woman a long time, until the rider started to fidget, moving her legs like she had to go pee.  Only then did Sam deign to speak, going on as though she’d never heard the previous threat, “We’ll start with something easy.  Did Hal make it out of that building alive?”

“The bastard’s alive, all right.”

“Is he still coming after us?  Where is he, close?”

“How the hell should I know what that freelance psycho is thinking?” the woman snarled, “Hello, he’s insane.  I stay away from people like that.”

Sam turned to Lane, “Is she lying?”

Lane shook his head.  

“OK.  Next question.  Why me?  I’ve never threatened your organization.”

“You don’t have to threaten us to be a threat.  No one wants to take the chance.  Not after what happened with Mikelson.”

And now something in Sam’s bearing changed, and she went from curious to taut, “What do you mean? 
What does that mean
?”

Despite Sam’s block, Lane could sense a deadly undercurrent of tension building.  He looked at Sam, puzzled, but her face was still, unreadable.

Sensing the change in the mood, the rider glanced between them, clearly working on a way to take advantage, “How is it that you don’t know?”

Sam didn’t answer, but her mouth thinned into a straight line.  The woman smiled.  Dang it.  Now that she knew Sam had a weakness, their advantage was compromised.  Tapping Sam on the shoulder, Lane cleared his throat.  “Why don’t you let me take a turn?”

Nodding stiffly, Sam straightened.  She seemed to realize her mistake, because she didn’t quite meet Lane’s eyes as she strode into the forest and feigned interest in the foliage. 

“Let’s pretend we know nothing—”

“Pretend?”

“Who’s Mikelson, and what does he have to do with this?”

The rider shrugged, making a show of yawning.  “I’ll just say this,” the woman said, pitching her voice low, so that Samantha couldn’t hear, “That girl may seem innocent, but she’s made some mighty nasty enemies.  And for my part?  I’ve learned from experience, sometimes it’s better to take a talent like hers out of the equation before it blows up in your face.”  

Sam eased a few steps closer, still intently studying the flora and the fauna around her feet, but Lane could sense that she was trying intently to hear, curious about what was being said.  The rider noticed as well, and rolled her eyes, “That’s something you should think about, big guy.  You can’t rein her in forever, you know.  We’re doing a public service here, for all the Talents.”

“No one reins me in,” Sam snapped, “No one controls my talent except me.”

Catching Lane’s eyes, the rider arched an eyebrow.  There was no need to argue with her—Sam had just proven her point.

#

By the time the tow truck brought them into the little town, it was heading into 5 P.M.  The town was picturesque, made up of sweet homes with perfect lawns and white picket fences.  The “downtown” consisted of mostly empty storefronts.  A few blocks down was the next commercial center, a strip mall that included a super center, a mechanic’s, and a small general store that looked to be holding on by the skin of its teeth.  The only restaurant within walking distance was really more of a local gas station/espresso stand/café/kitschy gift shop.

Lane and Sam perused for snacks, grabbing a few things for Al before heading out to see where things stood with the car, which had been towed to the parking lot of the strip mall.  Lane could tell before Al even started shaking his head that things weren’t going so well: “I got it all fixed, but there’s a problem.  We need a new fan belt.”

“All right, go to the car parts store and buy one.”  After one too many sleepless nights, even Lane was beginning to wear thin. 

“No can do,” Al said, “The only automotive store also happens to be this all-inclusive grocery, clothing, and toy store.  And, to put it nicely, they’ve got jack shit.”

“Why don’t you ask the mechanic down the street?” Sam suggested.

Al shrugged, “I’ll try.”

#

Ten minutes later, Lane and Sam waited anxiously outside the mechanic’s.  Sam, bored, stared at the sign, which read “Tops Garage” and wondered if the lack of apostrophe meant “tops” was supposed to be an expression, or if Top just lacked crucial grammar skills.  The garage itself was a holdover from the sixties, with ugly, angular architecture and unchanged peeling lime green paint job.   Al walked out and rejoined the group.  “Nope.”

“Nope?  What’s that mean?”  Lane, hands shoved deep into his pockets, had been tense the whole morning.

“Dude, what do you think that means?”

“‘Nope’ as in he doesn’t have the part or—”

“Oh he has the part.  But he says he can’t sell it.  He’ll be happy to fix our car for us, though.  For three times the going rate.”

Lane groaned, “You’ve got to be kidding me.  Harry and I have already maxed out most of our cards.”

“Are you forgetting something?”

Lane stared at Al blankly.

“Use your mojo powers!  Hell, with Sam’s help, you could probably talk him into dancing the mambo.” 

“Oh.  Right.  OK, I can do that.” 

Sam raised her eyebrow.  Al shouldn’t have had to suggest that.  Lane really was distracted.  She wondered what the motorcycle rider had said that she hadn’t heard.

“Sam, if you come with me I’ll—” 

The cell phone rang.   

Ah, Tess, Sam thought, you have the most abysmal sense of timing.  At first, they tried to ignore the phone, but Sam swore the ringing became more insistent the longer they waited.  Groaning, Lane picked up, “Hey, Tess, can this wait?  OK, give me a second.”  Lane put his hand over the receiver.  “I have to take this.  But I have an idea.  May I, Sam?”  Lane put a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Hey!”  Sam felt the rush, as energy suddenly flowed from her.  Just as quickly, it flowed from Lane back to her, along with a strange sensation.  Lane cocked an eyebrow and grinned, “Kay, that should do it,” he said, going back to the phone.

“Do what?”

“Let’s just say I made the mechanic susceptible to your suggestion.  Just go in, flirt a little, and he’ll give you whatever you want.  Go on, talk to him, it’ll be easy.”

Lane dug some cash out of his pocket, handed it over, and went back to the phone, uhn-hunhing his way around to the back of the mechanic’s shop.  Sam watched him go.  Lane wanted her to do what, exactly?

“This’ll be awesome, Sam,” Al said, “I’ll walk you through it.  I’ve known Lane so long, I know just how he does it.”

“Hey, guys!”  Harry came tearing across the street, “The general store across the street.  They’ve got arcade games.”

“Harry,” Al said, “I’m a little busy right now.”

“They’ve got Asteroids.”

And with that, Al and Harry were gone, leaving Sam to manage on her own.     

Flirting, that was it?  Sam looked at the mechanic’s shop, thinking.  Lane sure thought it would be enough.  His powers, she’d realized, seemed low-key at first, but there were a lot of great possibilities that went along with them.  

However, flirting to get what she wanted?  That was not so much Sam’s style.  Not just because it was rankling, but also because she had no idea how.  How was it girls like Anne and that girl in Lucky’s had guys dangling on their pinkies with a giggle and a toss of the hair?  It was silly.  Ridiculous.  And, also, Sam couldn’t deny, kind of useful. 

Maybe, Sam decided, it’s about time I figure this flirting thing out.  Purely for intellectual reasons, of course.   

Casting a glance back to make sure the guys were still engrossed in the arcade, Sam pulled her T-shirt down to show a little more cleavage—or clavicle at least—and sauntered into Tops’ Garage.

Tops was in the back, removing a carburetor on a car that was probably old enough to scrap.  A life of hard smoking made his age hard to pin—he could have been anywhere from his late twenties to late thirties.  Still, he was fit and all, and he had that rough look that so many girls were drawn to.

He looked up as she strolled over, wiping the grease from his hands.

“I told your friend,” he said, “I’m not a store.  I don’t sell parts, I install them.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Sam said, sighing and leaning against the hood of the car behind her.  Stretching her arms out behind her in what she hoped was a suitably sexy pose, she yawned with soft mewl.  Then she blinked up at him through her lashes.  Tops furrowed his brow, confused.  Sam glanced at the car she was leaning against: a beige Ford Taurus. 
The story of my life
, Sam thought darkly
, I wish for a Camaro, I get a Taurus.

But she wasn’t about to back down now.  Sam brought her right leg up, planting the foot on the side of the car.  Her chest might be meager, but God had made up for it in the leg department.

“I just have a problem.  And I was hoping you might be able to help me out.”  Sam widened her eyes and pouted her lips, licking them a little.

Suddenly, Tops lost his cool look.  He coughed and crossed his legs, leaning back against the car on hydraulics behind him and hitting his head on the rear-view mirror with a “bang!”  He grabbed the back of his head, stepped a few feet, looked at her, blushed bright red and laughed self-consciously.

Bingo.

Sam sighed, “You see, it’s not the money, but the time.  I have to get to Seattle, because, see, my mamma...” Samantha looked down and sniffled.  It came out more like a snort, the saliva backfired up her nose and into her lung, and she began choking.

“Oh my god!”  Tops ran over and started pounding her on the back.  Coughing and choking, it took Sam a second to get her breath back.  Smooth, Sam, real smooth.  Great job seducing.
  “
Are you OK?”

“Yes.”  Sam managed to wrangle her gasps into something like soft sobs.  But then Tops’ slaps had turned into an all-out back rub.  Sam hopped off the car, taking two steps away.  Actual touching had never entered her original equation.

Seeing his hurt look, she realized that recoiling in horror when a man touched you was probably not the best way to pique his interest.  Darn those instincts.  She’d have to start over.

She smiled shyly at him.  Oh, no, I’m not antisocial, she projected, just hard to get.  Tops grinned back and took a step towards her.  Samantha took another step back, laughing awkwardly: “As you can see, this whole situation’s got me really upset.”

Tops nodded, “Don’t worry, hon.”  He smiled, grabbed a wrench, and flexed his arms.  “There ain’t nothing Tops can’t fix.  If it’s a part you need, it’s a part you’ll get.” 

Sam swallowed a giggle and smiled, leaning forward over the top of the Taurus.  “Really?  I sure would appreciate it.”

Tops winked, “Consider it done.”

#

There was nothing like a little positive reinforcement to stir the blood, Samantha thought walking, no, swaggering back to the general store where the boys waited, fan belt in hand.  So she’d used a couple of cheap tricks.  So she’d had a little help from Lane’s talents.  At least she’d—wait—what had she accomplished?

I totally compromised my dignity
, Sam thought,
and, in return, I got a fan belt.  Hunh.

Inside, she found Al and Harry right away, standing next to the arcade games.  But they weren’t playing Asteroids.  Instead, they were chatting up a redhead.  The red uniform vest she wore over her plunging V-neck sweater signaled that she was now supposed to be at work.  And she was working hard—at pretending to restock cans while she chatted with the boys.

As Sam walked up, the girl shot her a glance, sized her up, tossed her head dismissively, and turned back to the guys.

Not exactly a prime role model, Sam realized, deciding to call her experiment a wash.