Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis (7 page)

“If you want a taste you can jump in for a moment.” She sipped again.

He waved her off. “That’s okay. It would feel too awkward having boobs. I wouldn’t even notice the coffee.”

She snorted it.

While she rummaged for napkins in the Nippy-Nom bag, the comm crackled to life. Captain Eze’s holographic head appeared.

“Agent Wren, I see you are having little success with your endeavor to learn how to breathe coffee.”

Kirsten tried to laugh; it just made her choke more. Dorian laughed enough for both of them.

“There’s a 21-11 in progress at the Hoyt Towers in Sector 204.”

Head tilted back, she gasped a few breaths and blinked the tears out of her eyes. “Think it’s a telekinetic or an actual?”

“I’m hoping you will answer that.”

“Understood, sir. I’m on my way.”

His bright smile gleamed for seconds before his head vanished.

“The man has exquisite timing.” Dorian settled into the seat.

A rearward tug on the left control stick caused the patrol craft to rise straight up. Right stick twisted right, the car’s nose followed suit.

“Interesting,” said Dorian.

“What?”

“You have the lateral control on the twist and the roll on the stick. Most people do it the other way around.”

Kirsten shrugged. “I never played video games. Was too busy digging through trash bins for food.”

Dorian gazed at the roof. “What’s got you in a mood?”

Foot forward, the car lurched up to two hundred. She hit the lights. “I spoke to Nila last night.”

He snapped around to look at her. “What? Why? I asked you to leave her alone. She’s delicate.”

Left stick left, the car slid sideways, right stick right; it rolled into a banking turn around a building. The overall effect resembled skidding through a corner. “I had a bad date.”

“Do you ever have good ones?”

Three hundred miles per hour.

“You drive like you’re in a video game,” he grumbled, clinging to the seat. “Okay, sorry. Please slow down.”

“What do you care, you’re already dead.”

An ad-bot whizzed by so close the car passed through the hologram.

“Whoa! Dammit woman, slow the hell down. I may be dead, but you are not.”

She let off on the pedal. “Nila’s not delicate. She’s guilty. She thinks she’s next, thinks she cheated death somehow, and he’s waiting for her.”

Dorian grunted through a hard left. “That shouldn’t have pissed you off like this. Or upset you. Who did what to a kid?”

Kirsten’s grip eased off on the sticks. “Shani. Nila’s daughter. She stared at me as if I was some kind of killer there to take her mother away.”

She hung a sudden right into an uncharted tunnel. Horizontal blocks of steel and glass joined numerous buildings along a two-block area, creating a three-dimensional maze ordinarily off limits to hovercar traffic. The route plot arc, a yellow ribbon on the NavMap, twisted and unkinked into a straight line as she came out the other side, back into mapped area. Dorian emitted uneasy noises as she leveled off and pushed forward on the left stick, causing the car to drop like a stone.

“Oh, come on. You don’t have a stomach to get sick with.”

That wry grin she loved/hated so much curled his lower lip. “You seem more confident since you’ve been going through the hand-to-hand training.”

“I won’t crash. You should have thought of something else for a focus than a patrol car. Bit less risky.”

“I tried.” Dorian gestured with a dismissive wave. “Rene’s mercs didn’t seem too inclined to laser me to death at home on my couch. I think there’s some bits of me in your chair still.”

The car swung through the aperture of an enclosed roof parking deck aiming for a landing in the emergency lane. Kirsten tugged up on the stick, buying just enough time for unfolding wheels to accept the car’s weight. A gasp of coolant fogged out from beneath as the hover unit powered off, drowning out the sigh sliding through her teeth.

“Sorry. I’m being shitty.” She turned to face him. “Something’s bothering me about Nila, and I’m―”

“Really pissed off, yeah I got that part.” He shook his head before dissipating into a cloud of mist that reformed standing outside. “Question is, at what?”

Kirsten took a breath, let it out, and shoved the door upward. Motionless until the soft hiss of its ascension ended with a
thunk
, she climbed out and stared at his belt. “I’m pissed Rene got away with killing you and turning Nila into a civilian afraid of her own shadow; never mind the effect it had on Shani.”

He looked off to the side. “I’ll find him sooner or later.”

“By the time you are strong enough to be a threat to him, he’ll be dead.”

Now Dorian wore the pissed-off face.

“Excuse me, young lady. You can’t leave your car there.” A middle-aged Asian woman in an expensive suit approached from the door of a small office.

“Please stand back, ma’am. I’m responding to an emergency call at this address.”

“You don’t look like the police. They don’t have black cars, and they don’t wear black uniforms. Are you filming?”

An orb droid the size of a fist whirred out from behind her, clicking and beeping as it recorded still images of Kirsten, the car, and the area.

“Go back to your office; I don’t have time to explain. Call it in if you want, this is a Division 0 investigation.”

“Wait… the psionics?” The woman blinked.

Here we go.
“Yes. Please let me―”

“Oh, my! You’re a real psionic? What’s it like? Were you born that way, or did you decide to become psionic later?” The woman poked and pawed at Kirsten, enamored by just touching her. “Can you read my mind? Do you know what I had for dinner last night? Can you tell what my son’s name is?”

In Kirsten’s imagination, the woman was in an arm bar, bloody nose pressed to the hood of the patrol craft. In reality, she smiled. The overbearing curiosity was almost as bad as fear.

“Mrs. Koga, I really must insist you get out of my way before someone gets hurt. I am sure Jimmy is fine, and the tempura was amazing. Now please.”

With the grin of someone who had just met a holovid star, the parking manager raced back to her office.

“Admit it, you enjoyed that a little bit.” Dorian fell in step at her side.

The elevator followed a central shaft through the building. Down seven floors, it opened to reveal a large atrium chamber. Each of the four walls contained the front face of a huge apartment made behind the façade of a freestanding house. Shimmering holo-projectors created the image of open sky along the ceiling; and judging by the existence of drains, it simulated the weather.

A giant flowerbox of sorts surrounded the elevators, separated at the center of each side by a path to the courtyard. On the west side of the garden, a black man in a silk suit stood near a woman in an ivory-colored gown. Between them, a girl of about twelve sat on the edge of the garden in a smaller version of her mother’s dress. Mother and daughter had their hair up, held in place by an interlocking arrangement of delicate silver strips. All three were thin, with high cheekbones. The daughter stared with a sullen face at the ground; her father appeared on the verge of screaming. It seemed only the mother’s presence had prevented an all-out war.

“Careful,” said Dorian. “I know how you get around rich people. You’re already in a bad mood; keep it professional.”

“Good morning, Mr. Greene. We got a call about possible paranormal activity? I’m Agent Wren, Division 0.”

The man nodded at her, reluctantly accepting a handshake that ended as fast as he could. “I am worried my daughter might be psionic. I need to know so we can get her fixed.”

Mrs. Greene glared. The girl sniffled.

“Excuse me, fixed?” Kirsten fumed.

“Well, you know.” He waved his hand in a rolling gesture. “Cured. I’ll not have psionics in my family.”

“It’s not a…”
goddamned “…
disease, or a choice. You’re either psionic or not; it doesn’t just happen out of the blue one day.”

“It’s not the sort of thing this family needs associated with it. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Kirsten…” Dorian put a hand on her shoulder.

She closed her eyes and let the air out of her lungs. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“Well, things have been breaking. Plates, holo-bars, her younger brother’s toys flying around.” The mother explained symptoms reminiscent of a classic poltergeist.

“I found it online… Sometimes this happens around twelve or thirteen with girls.” Mr. Greene’s eyes bulged ever so slightly from his skull. “Most times it goes away, but it’s only getting worse.”

The daughter shuddered, her body language apologizing for her existence.

“It’s just as common for boys, Mr. Greene. Girls are just more sympathetic in movies. Where is your son?”

“He’s at my mother’s.” The woman spoke up. “He was not taking the disturbance well. Before you ask, no, it did not stop when he left.”

Kirsten approached the daughter. “Hi, sweetie. Can I bother you for a minute?” She turned to Mr. Greene. “Shall I assume if she is psionic you’ll no longer want her and I’ll be taking her back to the dorm?”

The girl burst into tears, covering her face with both hands.

“You can assume if the son of a bitch does that, I’ll be taking my daughter to a new apartment, without him.” Mrs. Greene put an arm around the girl who leaned into her, glaring up at her father with hurt eyes.

Kirsten liked Mrs. Greene.

“Alexis. Will you please look at me?”

Alexis Greene wiped her cheeks dry, swallowed, and did as asked. Kirsten gazed deep into her soft brown eyes, past the all-too-familiar shame. The young girl’s surface thought chatter swelled and faded as she dove deeper, probing for the telltale signs of psionic ability. Dorian waved his hand past the girl’s face, getting no reaction whatsoever. After a few minutes of concentrating, Kirsten straightened up and turned to face the parents.

“Well, there is a problem. But it’s not Alexis.”

“What is it?” Both parents asked at once.

You’re a miserable excuse for a father.
She forced a neutral look. “She is not psionic in the least. That means you have an actual spirit in your house.”

Mr. Greene flashed a broad smile at his daughter. Alexis glared, having none of it.

Dorian wandered around the garden, standing behind the women of the family, smiling at Mr. Greene.

“A spirit? Like a ghost?” Mr. Greene’s voice went up in time with his eyebrow. “You don’t honestly expect me to bel―”

Mr. Greene turned into Mr. Grey.

Kirsten looked at the streams of color-lit water in the fountain, trying not to laugh in front of them. By the time Mrs. Greene and Alexis turned, Dorian had ceased his manifestation. Mr. Greene walked without a sound to take a seat next to his wife, staring into space.

“I could help you with this issue, but, seeing as you don’t want psionics in your house, I suppose I’ll just go back to the station.”

Mr. Greene raised his hand. “Wait. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to the daughter you were ready to throw away for being different.”
Dammit.

Dorian winced.

He looked up with a numb expression. “It’s been crazy.”

“Don’t make excuses, make amends. You realize you basically just told me that I am a sub-class person.” Kirsten turned, took two steps, and stopped. “Which one’s your apartment?”

Mrs. Green pointed; her husband studied the ground.

Kirsten walked to the door, tapping a police override code into the holographic display above her forearm. A chime came from the panel on the wall and the doors slid open with a soft squeak. Dorian went in first, smiling back over his shoulder.

“You handled him pretty well. Are you okay? That seemed a little too close to home.”

The living room had a few items out of place: a small vase on the ground leaking water, holographic picture bars knocked askew, and a spilled bowl of decorative nuts. The kind of irregular and strange-looking objects people leave in bowls on tables to look nice, not for eating. Carvings of wildlife flanked the primary holovid player, a life-sized wooden jaguar on the left, a majestic elephant on the right.

“Yeah, I’m not dwelling on that bitch anymore.” She moved into the dining room, whistling at an onyx table big enough for twelve. “I think I’m going to find Rene.”

“You don’t want to get mixed up with him,” he said, shaking his head.

A jade lion flew from a shelf, missing her by an inch. She whirled, just in time to see a spectral smear vanish into an enormous animated electronic painting of a nebula.

“Yeah.” She ran after it, down a corridor among bedrooms. “I do. He hurt you.”

Dorian went wide, going through the wall. She skidded to a halt by the door to Alexis’s room, judging by the holo-posters. Inside, Dorian rolled on the ground atop a suspension of white vapor. The apparition had a defined head as well as two hands, with little more than smears of fog between them. Human at a basic level only, the shape of the head hinted at male. It punched at Dorian’s chest; his smirk called it a minor nuisance.

“He’ll have lackeys again. You will hesitate before killing them, since they’re just dominated.” He grabbed it about the neck, trying to hold its bobbing head up, a lead weight atop a noodle. “Lash it.”

The spirit went wide-eyed, and a teen’s entire collection of concert holodisks rippled from wall-mounted shelves at her. Kirsten held up a hand to guard her face, but yelped and dove to the side when several hit her hard enough to break skin.

“Ow, son of a bitch.” She touched a cat scratch on her cheek. “I can suggest them to go away.”

“What do you plan to do with him once you catch him?” The sound of punching emanated from the room. “Command is quite wary of suggestives.”

The flurry of objects subsided, and she whirled into the doorway. Threads of poltergeist wrapped around Dorian, making a clean strike impossible. “They’re not fond of mind blast either. Yay for me I can do both. We take him in alive, he can’t suggest anything with an inhibitor on.”

Dorian flew into the ceiling, causing a lamp made of three rose-shaped LED bulbs to flicker. An assault of school-issue datapads fouled Kirsten’s aim. The spirit wisped through Dorian’s fingers and darted into the next room. He reformed on his feet, chasing after it.