“Not if I get there first,” she counters. Owen watches the exchange with little interest. He’s still shaken from Jensen appearing out of the blue today. Wanting to question him about Pixie Dust was one thing, but about the murder of his Aunt Sylvie? That’s insane.
“Too bad he didn’t give us a warning about Jensen’s visit,” he says. “That dude has a hard-on for me.” Astrid makes a face of disgust at his wording. “What gives?”
“He’s a Fed. And wants to close the case completely. It’s not unusual.” She tells Quinn what he said about the bullets matching in Owen’s aunt’s murder and Atticus’s. “They’re connected. Like we thought.”
“Except now I’m a suspect.”
“We’ll find the real killer and clear your name,” she says. “Until then, stay out of sight.”
He shrugs, not wanting to argue about it. He’d just like to roam about freely without the risk of going to jail.
“So what did Casper say?” she asks Quinn. He describes the real estate information and the connection to the fires.
“The stuff about WIND-E and Metamorphosis makes sense,” Owen says. “That property is hot and a lot of lower-income families are getting the boot.”
“If Demetria is serious about her desire to help the Swamp, this has to be a problem for her.”
“Yeah,” Quinn agrees. “Casper had something else to say.” He locks eyes with Astrid. “Something about you and your echo.”
“Oh yeah, what’s his great insight?” Her sarcasm is unmistakable.
“That you’ve got to get control over it, the way I’ve gained control over the currents.” He looks at me. “And how Owen uses his manipulation.”
“It’s not that easy,” she says. “I’ve tried.”
“Have you?” he asks. “Holden locked me in a room until I figured it out. I fried the electrical system on our house so many times. He eventually made me learn how to repair it myself. Owen, what about you?”
“Man, I spent hours working with mine. I mean, there were a few scares when I first moved in with my Aunt Sylvie. Like, shit would happen, and I couldn’t always tell what was real or not. Like if I got scared or angry, it would just come out in these subconscious bursts. My aunt got tired of it and I hated not being in control, so I practiced. A lot.”
Quinn jerks his chin at Astrid. “What did Atticus do to help you?”
Her jaw locks. “I’m not talking about this.”
“Astrid, it’s important; what happened last night was really bad.”
“Shut up, Quinn. I handled it. And what Atticus did was give me gloves and didn’t bitch at me when I needed a minute alone. It works, and it doesn’t hurt anyone. Last night was a freaking anomaly.” She glances at Owen for help.
He can’t back her on this one. Quinn and Casper are right. “He has a point.”
She tosses her hands in the air and rises like she’s about to leave the room.
He grabs her arm. “It’s not just about protecting yourself. These gifts…they’re bigger than we realize. It’s important that we keep testing them. I’m not convinced they’re limited.”
“What do you mean?” Quinn asks.
“The more I use mine, the more it expands. The more I can do. Like shielding myself when Jensen got here. Took me a while to master that.” He releases Astrid’s arm. If she wants to leave, she can. He’s not going to fight her. “You’re stagnant, Astrid. Don’t let your ability control you—control it first. Use it. Own it.”
A hot tear builds in the corner of her eye. She doesn’t wipe it away, she just looks at them with a glare of death and storms from the room.
Quinn sighs. “Well, that went well.”
“Yeah. She’s stubborn.”
“She’s just trying to protect herself.”
“I’m afraid she’s doing the opposite,” Owen argues.
Quinn looks at the clock. “The city offices open at ten. I’m going to go down and see what kind of records I can get on the Metamorphosis and who owns it. Keep an eye on her okay? Last night shook her, hard. Don’t let her pretend otherwise.”
Owen nods and watches the man leave, all the while an idea percolating in his head. He has an idea he can help Astrid. She just has to agree.
*
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Right, so getting Astrid to agree to his plan may take some work.
“Did you just suggest I start using Pixie Dust?”
Owen leans against the railing on the balcony attached to the upstairs apartment. He found Astrid here after she stormed off. “Only because the chemicals found in it allow us to use our abilities on one another. I’m willing to let you hear my echo so you can try to desensitize yourself.”
Wisps of her blonde hair blow in her face from the cool morning breeze coming off the harbor. She shoves her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie and for the first time since he’s met her, she seems small—vulnerable. From the dark glint in her eye, she knows it.
“What Quinn said before, about Atticus challenging me, wasn’t exactly true. The gloves were a concession. When I first moved in with him, I wore six layers of clothes all day—even to bed. I had on a hat constantly. Tight pants and shirts and socks. My sensory issues were paralyzing. I could barely function. Everything was too loud, too smelly, too…everything.” She holds up her hands, which are covered in a thin pair of gloves. “This was an improvement. This was success.”
He nods at her story; it makes sense and he doesn’t want to slight her growth.
“When I first discovered my abilities, I couldn’t do much. It was nothing more than a little slight-of-hand. A few times I just scared the crap out of my aunt by moving shadows across the room, or I’d trick her by making it seem like something moved. But little by little, I figured out how to manage it. And I stopped just playing games and learned how to use the manipulation to protect myself and others.”
“Like when you blocked Jensen from seeing you today?”
“Yep.” He leans his elbows on the railing and looks in the distance. “It’s one reason I’m so angry I wasn’t there when she was killed. I could have protected her.”
She watches him carefully for a moment, then confesses, “I should have been there when Atticus was murdered. I was off disobeying his orders and…” her cheeks turn red at whatever she’s remembering.
“Dropping bombs on me and the rest of the crew. Yeah, I remember.”
“Using Pixie Dust seems incredibly foolish,” she says.
“A little bit, yeah. But how else are you going to do it? Pick some random person off the street and ask if you can touch them? You’re hot and everything, but random touching is generally frowned upon.” He flashes a grin.
“You do know that you can’t hide anything from me if I hear your echo. I have access to your deepest thoughts and feelings. Hints of your desires and things about your past—” She stops abruptly.
“What?” he asks.
“Your past. I may be able to see what happened between coming to the group home and you living with your aunt.” She studies me. “Would you be okay with that?”
“Maybe we’ll both learn something.”
Her forehead creases in thought. “Quinn will kill me.”
“He doesn’t have to know.”
That doesn’t seem to appease her, but she moves on. “And what about the drug effects, isn’t that a bad idea?”
“Not if we’re in a safe environment.” He steps closer to her. “I won’t lie. I’ve experimented with the drug—part of the process of infiltrating the group. It’s, well, like James and Demetria were looking for, a little bit like Neverland.”
“Peter Pan and the Lost Boys? God, what is that all about?”
“No flying, I promise, but the high isn’t bad.”
“Not funny.”
He smiles. At least she’s considering it. “It’s your decision, Astrid. I just want you to know I’m willing to help if you want me to.” He moves toward the door. “Think it over.”
She nods, and he leaves her out there to make the decision on her own. It’s a weird, risky proposal, but it may be an important step in developing their team. One he’s willing to dive into his own past to make happen.
Chapter Eight
Astrid