Sleight (16 page)

I HAD SPENT two years in Seattle meeting no one else who possessed knacks. Over the last year they had started flooding in from every imaginable direction. The fact that Kenwoode hadn’t bothered to alert me to the fact that he’d called this Sawyer kid was an additional irritating twist.

A thought occurred to me though, causing me to keep the door between us. Naturals. Shades. Just because he was knacked didn’t mean that Kenwoode had really sent him. He could be playing for the other team.

“Tell me something about Kenwoode so I know you’re legit,” I directed.

The smile faded again while his brows furrowed. Then a mischievous grin replaced the smile. “Cool goatee, very particular, strict and...walks kinda stiff.”

I decided to throw another question at him though for good measure. “Brock? You know him?”

The grin disappeared and his face fell. He rubbed his shoulder with his right hand. “Crap. He’s here? Yeah, I know him. Bit of a hard ass.” He paused, looking nervous. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

Opening the door, I watched him carefully as he walked past me, unslinging a big backpack and setting it down just inside the doorway. Shutting the door behind us, I motioned him to follow me to the counter bar and we grabbed a seat facing each other. I remembered my burrito and got up to get it. “Sorry, but I’m starved,” I apologized.

It was his turn to size me up. Even though he was obviously older we were roughly the same height and build. I’d been putting on some weight and inches and getting close to six foot.

His smile flickered back to life and he rubbed his hands together, static electricity crackled in the air as I sat down again.

“So what can you do?” He leaned toward me, waiting expectantly.

This was new. Mr. G had asked a similar question early in our friendship, but the other Naturals I’d met had been either cagey about their own knacks or had been trying to get a read on me before revealing
what
they could do or even whether they
wanted
to reveal that they had a knack. This guy was totally excited about the whole thing. Reveling in it.

“A couple things. Nothing much,” I offered.

He swayed a little on his barstool. “More than one? Come on. Don’t play like that. I showed you mine. You gotta reciprocate.”

Whether due to his age or easy going nature I found myself wanting to trust him.

“Why are you here? Why did Kenwoode contact you?” After guarding my secrets for so long it was hard to just reveal them on the spot. I bit into the burrito. Luke warm.

Disappointed, his smile drooped a bit. “Well, in addition to this,” he twitched his finger again causing another miniature light show, “I have other skills.”

“Uh huh. Like what?” I asked.

Looking at the ceiling and gazing around the apartment he did a little shimmy on the stool. “Oh this and that. I’m good at tech, finding stuff, tracking, listening. All totally normal human stuff, but really good at it. My talent for electricity makes me valuable for certain things. So come on man. Show a brother some respect, and clue me in to your talent. Talentsssss.”

His presence on its own, and his having revealed his knack had allayed some suspicion. And he knew about Kenwoode and Bock. In answer I set down the burrito and pulled a marble out of my jeans pocket, holding it in my hand. He was so focused on it that it was almost laughable. I made it levitate an inch or two in the air.

Clapping his hands together he rocked back and forth. “Awesome! I would totally love that! So cool.”

Virtually everyone else I’d met that had a knack was much older, with the single exception of Justine. Sawyer had a knack and he was completely accepting that other people had them and wasn’t the least bit frightened by it. Letting the marble drop back into my palm I stuffed it back into my pocket.

Enjoying the camaraderie, I said, “I have another one, watch...”

Pointing at my arm I created a tattoo of a snake on my skin. His reaction was immediate.

“No way! That...that is just sick.” Smiling and shaking his head he looked up from my arm. “So cool.”

I let the illusion vanish and picked up the burrito for another bite. Around a mouthful of egg, bacon and tortilla I asked, “So Brock. Badass. What’s that all about?” I figured a little background on one of our co-conspirators was fair game.

The effect on him was interesting. He stopped grinning and the nervous jumping around stepped down a notch.

“Yeah. Brock. So we all don’t really get into stuff about other Naturals. You know? Like totally against the rules. Unspoken, but still kind of a rule. Us talking about our talents one-on-one is kosher but talking about someone else’s gifts is like not cool.” He glanced at me. “But since I kinda outed him for being a jerk, I guess I could tell you why he and I...don’t actually get along.”

Licking melted cheese off my fingers I took another bite and nodded for him to go on.

“Yeah, so, it was like this. We were on a thing, for Kenwoode, a while back. First time we ever worked together and...so here it is...I kind of screwed up and he got pissed.”

I just raised an eyebrow.

Rubbing his hands on his pants, static electricity sizzling, he went on. “We were...collecting information. Stuff. I got us in and opened a safe. Little number, old fashioned, no big deal.” He smiled sheepishly. “Brock was the safety. Muscle. Protection. And the man in charge too. I was strictly the talent. We got the stuff but we must have triggered a silent alarm because a couple of guys, not real security because we were boosting stuff from a place that wasn’t legal, but anyway they made us and we were caught with our panties down. Brock was pissed, like I said, but he didn’t have any trouble with the first guy. The second guy was a problem.” Sawyer paused and grimaced. “He got Brock in a headlock and I thought he was gonna choke him out. Which would have totally blown, ‘cause Brock was the lead, and my ride you know? So Brock signaled me to zap him.”

He paused to take a breath, and gave me a sickly grin. He obviously wasn’t enjoying reliving the memory.

“So I zapped him. But I kinda missed. Well, not completely ‘cause I totally knocked the guy out...but I scorched Brock too.”

I hid a smile with my hand but Sawyer wasn’t fooled.
“Yeah, I know, it’s kinda funny but he’s got a really big scar and he threw down on me something fierce ‘cause of it. Turns out he wasn’t really signaling me, he was getting ready to throw a judo move. I misread it.”

My curiosity was piqued. “Scar? Where.”

A nervous grin flickered over his face. “Right in the glutes man.”

“YEAH, YOU GO ahead and laugh but Brock is so not funny when he’s bent. He’s got anger management issues.
I
think,” muttered Sawyer.

I got myself under control and stifled another chuckle. I couldn’t even think of the last time I’d laughed. It felt good.

“Are you local?” I asked.

Sawyer twisted left and right on the barstool. “Not really. Portland, so not far. The Great Pacific Northwest and all.”

I had questions and he seemed willing to talk. “What’s Brock’s knack?”

“Nah, can’t tell you that. Remember? But I can tell you that Brock’s got serious talent envy. Don’t flash your stash at him. He’s not subtle when he’s irritated. Has trouble controlling his emotions.”

I’d been a witness to that. Regardless of Sawyer’s open nature it appeared that some topics had been taken off the table.

Another angle of questioning might work though. “What did Kenwoode tell you about what’s going on? Why did he contact you?”

He stopped twisting on the barstool and started drumming his fingers on the countertop. “I actually called him. I was here for something else and needed some coin so I hit him up. As far as what he’s told me? Let’s see...Goodturn’s out of commission, there’s some half-wit that’s been hurt, you’re a keeper and there’s a rogue witch that’s in serious need of getting her ass kicked.”

I decided to let his offhanded comment about Breno slide. His comment about Mr. G surprised me. “You know Mr. Goodturn?”

His eyebrows arched and his mouth dropped open. “Are you serious right now? He’s sort of a legend. At least he might be. Some people think he was the Mad Dwarf. If I’d known he had a shop here in Seattle I would have jumped a Greyhound years ago to just like, you know, sit in his presence.”

I was floored. Legend? Man, did I have some serious catching up to do with Mr. G when he was back among the fully functioning. “What’s your role? Specifically?” I probed.

He gave me a sly look. “You
are
relentless aren’t ya? As advertised. Cool. Mostly for my skills on a computer, but also for…” he snapped his fingers and a blue spark leapt toward the ceiling.

Computer. He had to be Kenwoode’s hacker. I wondered if he was anywhere near as good as Baffle. But another question came to mind. “The electricity thing is cool, but how do you use it?”

If he was a peacock he would have fanned his tail feathers. He straightened up on the stool and his grin showed more teeth than I thought possible. “Oh man! You wait, I got some ridiculous moves with my juice! But...there isn’t much I can show you indoors that’s safe. I can kill almost anything that runs on a current. Turn stuff on that’s off, knock someone out of his socks, boil water, start a camp fire, so like I’m totally great in the woods, not that I like that, and if I have enough time I can magnetize stuff like nobody’s business!”

I shook my head. “How does it work?”

Shrugging he spread his hands out to his sides and wiggled his fingers. “Like most of us I guess. I influence a space, use my hands to help my concentration. It’s enhanced by static electricity.” He rubbed his corduroy pant legs together and flexed the fingers of both hands as electric waves danced over them. “I wear stuff that helps it along.”

Curious, I pulled my stun gun from its holster. “Would something like this mess with your knack?”

He smirked. “That little joy buzzer? Nah. Knack? That’s a word not many of us use.” He pointed at the stun gun. “Give me a jolt with that thing.” He looked over at the windows facing the street. “Do those open?”

“Yeah, they open. Are you crazy, you really want me to use this on you?” I asked.

Hopping off the barstool he went to a window and pushed it up, letting in a blast of cold air. “Yup. Jam it into my chest and pull the trigger!” He pulled his jacket open with both hands, baring his t-shirt covered chest.

I slid off my stool and walked over to him. He extended a hand toward the open window and grinned. “Come on, let ‘er rip!”

I placed the device against his chest and pulled the trigger. There was the loud ‘bramp’ sound and the electrical poles sparked and crackled as the visible current traced over his body, his eyes reflecting the light. He wiggled his outstretched fingers and a rope of electricity shot out through the window causing a cloud of steam as it made contact with the light rain outside.

“Holy—” I gasped.

Chuckling he pulled the window down. “Right? Cool huh?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said.

Folding his arms over his chest he grinned. “Some people get all kinds of messed up in the head about all this...but I love it. It’s like right out of a movie.”

No kidding. “So, Preston sent you. What’s the next step?” I asked.

His grin dimmed a bit. “First off, don’t call him Preston. I’ll bet you picked that up from Brock. Brock’s always pushing the limit. Kenwoode, he’s a stickler for manners. You know? Wearing a suit and all, like all the time. This job is my first real opportunity working for him since the screw up. He’s connected. My rep needs repairing, I’m kind of excitable, so he’s giving me a second chance. And you’re gonna ask about his talent too. I’m not gonna tell you what it is but...it is completely off the hook. Nobody else can do the thing he does and be prepared to freak out a little when you see it. As far as what comes next that’s coming from him, but he wanted me to introduce myself. He thought we might hit it off.”

Well, so far it seemed like that might actually be true. “Where’re you staying while you’re in town?”

“Mr. K said he had a room for me.”

It stood to reason that Kenwoode was planning on giving him a room over at Mr. G’s.

“Okay Sawyer. Welcome to Seattle. Let me fill you in on what I know,” I said.

Grinning, Sawyer sat down at the counter. “Awesome.”

Sawyer and I spent an hour comparing notes. There were enough gaps in our collective information that we had plenty to discuss. It became clear that he didn’t know about my bachelor existence so I left that secret intact. We shared some stories about our knacks, which he called talents, and we talked about some of our experiences with other Naturals.

His open nature was refreshing. He asked about my school and that led to a long explanation of the events that took place before and after the kidnapping; which then moved the conversation in the direction of Kenwoode, Mr. Goodturn and Sonja.

Kenwoode
had
asked him to do research on Sonja’s location and he was waiting for a secure connection to the internet to get started. But other than the basics of why he was in town I had more background than he did, which made me feel a little less irritated with Kenwoode.

My knowledge of Sonja, and her three attempts to steal my knack was also new to him. His awareness of Mr. G was hazier than I had thought based on his fanboy comments. In his mind Mr. G really was a legend. He knew he was a significant figure in the aberrant world, knew some stories, but was totally unaware of his advanced age, and knew absolutely nothing about his life in Germany or what he had been up to in Seattle.

I decided not to share what I had learned about Mr. Goodturn’s past or the internet research I’d conducted. It was becoming clear that Kenwoode had more information about Mr. G than anyone else. I wondered why.

The stories Sawyer shared about the Mad Dwarf in Philadelphia and Boston were odd, and didn’t sound like the Mr. G I knew. The Mad Dwarf was believed to have been involved in all sorts of quasi-illegal business. It didn’t compute for me but my knack sense of Sawyer while he was talking was that he believed everything he was saying. The most disturbing thing he had shared was that this Mad Dwarf had supposedly been waging a war against the Shade community and it had resulted in many deaths.

Because so much of what he had to say was information that had been handed down through many retellings, I decided to withhold judgement, not to mention belief, until I’d had a chance to talk it over with Mr. Goodturn. All of the stories I’d been getting bombarded with over the last several days were beginning to get overwhelming.

When it got to the lunch hour our conversation slowed down and my phone buzzed.

The caller ID flashed Kenwoode’s avatar. His response to my greeting was typical.

“Benjamin, we’re back from the airport and I’d like to introduce you to my associate.”

That’d be new Natural friend number three. “Yeah, so I’m over here chatting with Sawyer. And I already met Brock too,” I said edgily.

“Good, good. Bring Sawyer along with you. Brock can wait. We need him keeping up the appearance of Mr. Giacomo being at home.”

“Sure. Uh, we’ll come right over.”

“Excellent.” He disconnected.

My having met Brock and Sawyer hadn’t fazed him one bit. Whether it was him being just plain rude, insensitive or entitled I couldn’t tell, but it rankled.

“That Mr. K?” asked Sawyer from his seat on the couch.

“Yeah. He wants us.”

We went next door and made the trek through the shop and up to the top floor quickly. Sawyer was casually interested in the pawnshop, but surprised at the marked difference between the shop and the fancy entrance to Mr. Goodturn’s with its evergreen topiary and multiple flower pots.

He looked up at the high ceiling and the skylight set into it. “Sort of a palace hidden in a shack, huh?” he said.

“Wait until you see the inside,” I said, as I knacked the lock and let us in and we headed straight to the library. Sawyer had his head on a swivel as we walked through the halls, gawking at the wood paneling, antique furnishings, high ceilings and renaissance art. He whistled softly in appreciation.

We walked up to the large entrance flanked by wood-wrapped glass doors and into the library, its interior cast in soft light from the cloudy sky outside. The slightly musty smells from the carpet and books that hung in the air, which I usually found comforting, felt oppressive. Kenwoode and a woman were standing at the far end of the library in front of the large wall of windows that faced the street, their backs to us. Although they were standing close to each other, there was a palpable negative tension between them. The woman’s posture, the way her knee-length dress clung to her form and her body language made my neck tingle with apprehension. I felt that I’d seen that silhouette before.

“Hey Mr. Kenwoode.” I said uncertainly as we approached them.

Looking back over his shoulder he nodded at Sawyer and lifted his hand, indicating the woman at his side.

“Benjamin. Let me introduce my colleague, the estimable Constance Santome, PHD.”

She turned, the light from the window behind her making it difficult to see her face; but as we got closer her features became more distinct. I could see her smile clearly, and my heart stopped. I had seen her auburn hair, large blue eyes, dimpled cheeks and long neck before. My first spark of recognition had been as true as an arrow finding its mark.

I did know her.

I’d known her my entire life.

Mom.