Emotionally Charged Page 8

  “I’m not doing anything on purpose.”

  “I know. But that’s how it is. At least, unless you’re surprised by something, or unconscious.”

  “Well this is all pretty surprising stuff, but you still don’t have superpowers.”

  I folded my arms. “I don’t know exactly how this stuff all works, okay?”

  “Okay. Let’s work it out then. What sort of range does my... blocking have?”

  “Oh! Right, maybe I can demonstrate the superpowers from a distance. Good idea. Let’s go outside and I’ll see what happens. I’ll still need some strong emotion to tap, though. Anger or fear emotions are easiest.”

  “Sure, okay.” He still looked unconvinced, but I was grateful he was at least humoring me. “But you probably shouldn’t go out looking like that.”

  Dean dropped his gaze to my chest and I blushed. Then I looked down too and saw the crusty bloodstains across the front of my trench coat and shirt that I’d slept in.

  Dean dug out what he assured me was his smallest T-shirt and I went into the bathroom to change and clean up.

  I peeled off the old clothes, and after giving myself a quick wash down, tried to clean them off too. The blood rinsed easily off the plasticky material of my trench coat, which I was happy about since it was almost the only thing I had of my own now. The white peasant blouse was unsalvageable.

  I put on the shirt Dean had given me. The fabric was old and worn to super softness and there was a picture of a cartoon super-critter on the front. Is he having a laugh at me? I tried to tuck the shirt in, tie it to the side, do anything to make it not look like I wore a tent. Nothing worked, so I just left it untucked.

  Dean paused and looked me over before we left the trailer. “Looks good on you.”

  He said it in the same matter-of-fact tone he’d used when he complimented my smile the day before. I just shook my head and tried to cool my face. I never understood why guys liked girls wearing their shirts. Wearing a guy’s T-shirt felt like the most unflattering fashion ever.

  It wasn’t too early, but no one else seemed to be out and about in the trailer park. Still, it turned out finding some anger to tap proved easy. Just a few trailers down the sounds of a domestic came clearly though thin walls. I stood outside, and Dean backed away until I felt the cold leave me. I gave him a thumbs up.

  I let the heat of emotion radiate into me, trying my best to absorb it efficiently, and my muscles burned with strength. A stop sign across the laneway seemed like a decent target for a superpower demonstration.

  I checked Dean was still watching, grabbed the pole with both hands and put my foot against the middle. I pulled with my hands and pushed with my foot, and the solid metal pole bent easily in half.

  It felt good to be so effective with my powers, and I couldn’t resist a smile when I saw Dean’s jaw drop. I had probably looked the same when Jake had demonstrated his powers by smashing that bench. Ugh. Way to break a mood.

  I didn’t even care then how much work someone must have put into the careful mosaic artwork on the bench Jake had destroyed. Neither had Jake. He’d just demolished it to make a point without a second thought. I should have realized then what I was getting into. Destruction of property isn’t exactly good-guy behavior. But I’d been blinded by surface things, not to mention dazzled by an empath much better at this stuff than I was.

  I felt bad for having busted an important street sign. I strained to straighten the pole, which proved harder than bending it in the first place. Once bent, it just wanted to remain crooked.

  A red flash caught the corner of my eye. I turned to look down the long laneway through the trailer park toward the road that passed the other end. Jake’s Maserati cruised by at a speed designed for scoping.

  In a blur, I dashed back to Dean as fast as I could until my powers waned in his presence. I still had just enough momentum left when I reached him to push him out of the middle of the lane and into the cover of the nearest trailer.

  “Okay, I believe you!” Dean said, looking down at where I had my hands still on his chest from pushing him. I dropped them away and gave him some space.

  “No, it’s them. The car down there.”

  “The ones from the bank?”

  I nodded. “I don’t think they saw us. But that was them, looking for us. It’s why I need your help.”

  “My help?”

  “Yeah. I have a plan.”

  We waited until the Maserati had continued on, then we snuck back to the sanctuary of Dean’s room.

  The minor effort of our excursion had left Dean looking paler than normal. Some blood showed through his bandage, and I worried it wasn’t healing right. He took the last couple of painkillers from his drawer.

  He took a seat on his bed and I paced in the small space in front of him while I presented my plan. A plan to block Jake and his team’s powers for good.

  As I thought, Dean had no idea how to even begin blocking an empath’s powers permanently.

  “That’s why I want you to practice on me.” I looked into his gray eyes, and spoke as earnestly as possible. “You can learn how to do it by locking away my powers.”

  He didn’t respond. He just stared with his usual blank expression.

  “Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, making you learn how to do this and take on those guys, but you saw how dead set Jake was to get rid of you. It’s the only thing I can think of to keep you and others safe, so you can protect yourself properly. Without, you know, turning to assassination or something. We can’t even call the cops on them—not while they still have their powers.”

  Dean nodded. “I understand. I can try, but it still feels kind of crazy. I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Me neither,” I admitted. “I only really found out about my own powers last week. I know less about yours. It’s not like there’s an Empaths Help hotline. We just have to experiment, I guess.” I slumped down onto the beanbag. “When I use my powers, it feels like sun warming my skin, filling me with energy, spreading heat through me. When you’re around, I just feel cold.”

  Dean made a face. Normally, I would know exactly what that meant, but without my powers, as far as I knew, the emotion could be anything from anger to just passed gas.

  “I just mean, if energy is warm, it’s like a cold lack of energy. Can you, I don’t know, try and visualize projecting more coldness?”

  It felt stupid even as the words came out of my mouth, but Dean tried anyway. I could see him concentrating, but nothing seemed to change.

  We gave up and had toast for lunch.

  Dean’s dad wasn’t around so we sat in the living room. It smelled of stale beer and weed. I pretended not to notice.

  “Why are we even like this?” Dean said with his mouth full. “I mean, how do we even have these powers? If I understand them more we might get further.”

  I tried to piece together the few bits of information I had. None of it sounded particularly scientific in hindsight. “Well, for empaths, we just sort of absorb excess emotion from people and it makes us stronger.”

  “So you’re like emotional vampires, feeding on other people’s life force.”

  “That’s silly.”

  “Fine, leeches then, or some kind of parasite.”

  “Harsh.”

  “Okay maybe, but really, excess emotion? You think people don’t need every bit of the emotions they are feeling? That anything you can tap into is just fair game? That it’s yours to take?”

  “I...” I hadn’t thought of it like that. “I just thought the powers were part of being a hero.”

  Dean had inhaled his toast and pushed crumbs around the empty plate with his finger. “Pretty people, hot cars, wads of spending money... was that your idea of being a hero, too?”

  “Just the perks?” I fake smiled, toothy and pleading and not even caring about my crooked teeth. I was being lectured, but I deserved it. Dean had a way of seeing things I’d been blind to. I needed to hear what he thought. “
What is your idea of a hero?”

  “Someone who doesn’t think about themselves, who puts others first always, even before their own life. Someone like...”

  Dean stood up without warning and dumped his empty plate into the sink. He paused there for a moment then came back to sit next to me on the couch. I chewed my toast slowly and stared at the floor, wishing I could understand Dean more. Without my emotion-sensing powers, all I had were questions. Really hard-to-ask questions.

  “I wish I knew how you were feeling.” I blushed and rambled on. “I just mean, something has made you block all your feelings away, so much it extends out and blocks empath powers too. There must be a reason. If I knew more about how, or why, it might help.”

  Dean made eye contact for a moment before returning his focus to the stained carpet. I didn’t want to push too hard, so I took a different tack.

  “Maybe if you could work out how to let emotions out a little, it might be easier to also pull them in more, create a more powerful block than your normal one. Something that could lock down an empath permanently, like Jake said blockers can do. Do you think you could try letting some emotion through?”

  Dean shook his head. “I don’t think I can just... do that.”

  My suggestions weren’t working, and Dean seemed less and less interested in trying them. And very uncomfortable talking about emotions at all. But he had let emotions through in the past, or at least had been surprised out of holding them back so much they blocked my powers. In the alley, and when he was shot, he was too shocked to keep a tight rein on his feelings. I hadn’t actually read his emotions those times, but I hadn’t exactly tried. Other things on my mind and all. If I could just surprise him again now, I could see what happened, see what he was really feeling.

  But how could I surprise him? I didn’t know why I thought the first idea that popped into my head seemed like a good one, but I acted on the impulse before common sense or embarrassment could stop me.

  I leaned over and pressed my lips against Dean’s.

  They were soft and cool and spread slightly under mine. My eyes fluttered closed and a shiver crept over my scalp. Then I felt the coldness leave me and I opened my eyes, surprised my impulsive action worked.

  Dean’s gray eyes looked into mine, inches away, just as surprised.

  I focused on reading any emotion I could in them, drawing them into me. What I felt was heavy with depression, a sadness as deep and hard as a glacier. Hiding within it was something small, tentative and warm. Something guarded so closely I couldn’t identify it. I moved my lips back away from Dean’s. His breath was fast and hot on my face.

  The sadness I’d tapped overwhelmed me, like a heavy weight around my chest dragging me into black water. I backed away to the other end of the couch, shaking my head like I’d just been boxed in the ears. “Too much... bad feelings...”

  I could tell Dean felt confused, hurt, and then the icy chill spread through me again and I couldn’t read him anymore.

  He finally found his words. “You did that just to get my guard down?”

  “And it worked, yay?” Clearly not yay. “I’m sorry; it was just an idea that came to me. Your emotions were just a bit much for me to handle. But I’m sorry, anyway. I shouldn’t have done that, or I should have asked first. But I couldn’t have asked first or then it wouldn’t have surprised you.”

  “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.” Dean had closed off completely. He didn’t look sad, or upset. He didn’t even look angry. He had gone back to complete emotional shutdown. But now I knew on the inside he kept hidden a deep well of grief, pushed down, out of sight. Emotions I couldn’t even handle for a few moments. No wonder he blocked them away.

  I could tell his life wasn’t easy. Everything around us screamed poverty. His dad didn’t seem to work, and was possibly an alcoholic.

  Dean came across as smart, and able, and so... kind. Even when he’d pressed me on acting spoiled, which he’d been right about, he could easily have been much crueler. With the pain he held inside, I was surprised he wasn’t.

  I tried to smooth things over with Dean. He didn’t talk much for the rest of the day, but remained cooperative, nodding and trying a few more suggestions to practice his powers. We tried some visualizing techniques but honestly, they just felt wanky. It was still early when Dean started looking gray and tired, and I could tell his bullet wound troubled him.

  We ended the day frustrated and without any headway on locking down my powers.

  I insisted Dean kept his own bed and I curled up on the beanbag. He fell asleep before me, and for a while, before I found my own rest, I stared at him, remembering the sensation of the deep, black despair he kept hidden inside.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Thursday morning, I woke up to Dean trying to tiptoe around me.

  “What time is it?” I asked, squinting at the window. The mostly bent blinds didn’t block much out but barely any light showed through them.

  “Six thirty. I need to get to work.” Dean put on a dark-blue hoody with holes at the elbows. “I’ll be back about three.”

  “What? No.” I bolted upright in the beanbag. It shifted under me and I almost fell on my side. “You can’t. If you’re out working all day, Jake might find you.”

  Dean sighed and didn’t look at me. “I have to work, Livvy. I didn’t even get to cash Dad’s welfare check this week, and I’m out of money.”

  “No, I won’t take any arguments. You can’t work anyway, not with your arm like that. I bet it’s hurting.” I said the words, but my stomach cramped with guilt. Out of money? Not only had I been taking up all his time, eating his food, and getting him in trouble in the first place, it was also my fault he couldn’t get to work or a bank. I had just come from Jake’s mansion where the staff handled everything and cash was handed to you in rolls. Even before that, at home with my parents, I’d never had to worry about running out of money. I had an allowance and my parents bought me whatever I needed. I knew, sort of, that some people lived day-by-day, only just earning enough to get them by, or sometimes not enough. But this was the first time I’d ever felt how privileged I had been. Part of me wished I hadn’t handed the change from my shopping trip back to Jake. That would have made things a bit easier right now—although it was stolen money. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

  I’d work something out. I had to stop being the spoiled brat and start working harder for Dean.

  Dean sat down on the bed again with a slight wince.

  “Yeah, I thought as much. Can I have a look at how it’s healing?”

  Dean nodded, and took his hoodie back off.

  I lifted the sleeve of his T-shirt. The shoddy bandaging was twisted and had a bled through. “We should put a clean dressing on it. Or at least that’s what people seem to do in movies. Then you can walk me into town and I’ll see about some cash.”

  “And that will be safer than me going to work?”

  “I’m not going to rob a bank, if that’s what you’re thinking. If you show up at a construction site with a bullet hole through your arm, people are going to talk and Jake will find out who you are and where to find you. I don’t plan for us to be out long, and at least if I’m with you, I could knock you out or something and use my powers to get us out of there if things go wrong.”

  “Well, you have worked out one way to shock me out of my blocking ability,” Dean mumbled.

  I blushed and went to get more makeshift first-aid supplies. There weren’t many left, and they felt so inadequate. Once I got some cash in town, I’d purchase some real bandages and dressings. I made a mental note to also buy him some more washcloths to replace all the ones we’d used up.

  I unwrapped and gently cleaned Dean’s arm. It didn’t seem to have gotten any better. The skin around the wound looked red and yellow and inflamed. I bandaged the area with the last clean washcloth available in the trailer, and Dean walked me into town.

  It proved hard trying to walk casually while
still keeping an eye out in all directions for Jake and the rest of his team. I felt like an exaggerated cartoon character, sneaking up to corners and ducking when cars came past. But no one seemed to pay us any attention, and we made it to the main street without any sign of the other empaths.

  The bank was closed up, police tape webbed across the front and flapping in the slight breeze. My stomach seemed to flap the same way. Dean had lent me one of his hoodies since it was cold but I couldn’t wear my too-obvious red trench coat. I hugged the worn, soft fabric to myself and smelt him on it.

  I went into the pawn shop I saw last time I was here and sold my white-gold heart pendant necklace. I got less than half what my parents had originally paid for it, but it was something. Enough to get by a couple more days. I only hoped this would all be over by then.

  I asked Dean about somewhere good to eat, and he took me around the corner to a tucked away diner with a drug store conveniently next door. I bought a first-aid kit which had bandages, dressings, and everything we should need, then went into the diner, insisting on buying lunch for us both.

  The diner had a mix of cracking plastic table sets and a line of tall booths along the wall. It was still early for lunch so the place was practically empty, and we took a booth in the far back corner that looked nice and secluded.

  I bullied Dean into ordering something substantial, sure his body needed it, and after I set aside what I needed to pay for lunch, I slid the remainder of the cash across the table.

  “What’s that?” He was already shaking his head.

  “It’s for you.”

  “I can’t take that.”

  “Sure you can. It’s your pay. I’m paying you to work for me, to keep trying to do this blocking thing. If you can’t get to your job because of me, then I’m your job.”

  We locked gazes, both unwilling to budge, the money sitting untouched on the table between us.

  The waitress arrived and put a massive hamburger down in front of Dean, and two milkshakes that came in tall retro glasses in the middle of the table. My fish and fries were in an actual basket, the paper lining it spotted with grease. The waitress raised an eyebrow at our strange stand-off.