Erika parked. She and Lawrence got out. She came around to his side. She stood in front of him for a long moment, looking down at him. He looked at her belt.

  “It’ll be okay, Faoil.” She touched his shoulder. “Come here.”

  She pulled him into a hug. He didn’t respond at first. He was stiff and uncomfortable. The pressure of her arms was unyielding, like when Cosmic Creepers playfully neck-wrestled him to the ground. Erika rubbed small circles into his back. She kissed the top of his head. Lawrence relaxed. He felt his heart stop pounding.

  “Per the terms of the agreement,” Erika said in an odd cadence. “I agreed to be straight with you, as long as you were straight with me. I prefer to do this the easy way. I like you.”

  “You didn’t use the Contract voice,” Lawrence said. His voice was muffled. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “We never signed a Contract,” she corrected in normal speech. She gently pried him off. “Come on. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can go for ice cream.”

  Lawrence followed her into the hospital. Whomever built Morris Hospital had money. It was a nice place. Lawrence waited while Erika filled out some forms.

  “Faoil Wulfr,” someone said.

  Lawrence raised his head. The woman was not hospital staff. She wore a black catsuit with a red underbust corset, red cuffs around her wrists, thighs, ankles, upper arms, and neck. Her shoulders had white patches with red crosses. Not an inch of skin was exposed below her collar. She had a lot of makeup. She looked like the fetish version of a medic. The entire outfit was rendered in a shiny alien material like latex or rubber.

  She shimmered as if under a bad hologram. For a split-second, Lawrence saw a normal nurse in scrubs holding a clipboard. Then he got a headache and saw the fetish model. A sterling silver tag hung from a ring mounted on the front of her collar. She looked at Lawrence and beckoned.

  Lawrence stood. Erika stood with him.

  “Just Faoil,” the not-nurse said. She smiled. Anyone else would have been charmed by her smile. “Guardians need to wait in the waiting room.”

  “Where he goes,” Erika gave the nurse a Look. “I go.”

  They had a battle of Wills. Erika won. The nurse flinched. She turned right around and led the way through a security door and down a hallway.

  “Thank you,” Lawrence whispered.

  Erika said nothing. She made him hold her hand. The nurse led them through a maze. Lawrence got lost. They came to a regular-looking room. The nurse had Lawrence sit on the paper-covered bench.

  “The doctor will be with you momentarily.” The nurse left. She closed the door behind herself. There was a loud as she locked it.

  Lawrence released a breath. He looked over at Erika, who sat in a chair by the wall.

  “They don’t mess around, huh?”

  -

  Lawrence sat in the too-white hospital room. Paper crinkled under him with every shift of weight. A sick pallor shone from the lights overhead. Across from him, the man with the clipboard—Agent Keller, according to his badge—scanned lines of green text on a projected screen with a predator’s calm.

  “You tested positive for the PSI stat. You have precognitive displacement,” Keller said without looking up. “Clarity Level 4. Which is… problematic.”

  Lawrence swallowed.

  “Is it bad?” Erika said.

  “It means he sees things too clearly. Uncle Sam doesn’t like it.”

  Beside him, Erika said nothing. Her arms were folded. Her eyes were on the door.

  “You and your cousin survived exposure to a previously unknown dimensional realm,” Keller went on. “Unlike her, you have Psionic Aptitude. It qualifies you as an unlicensed psionic hazard. We don’t let those walk around unsupervised.”

  “Meaning?” Erika said.

  “He and his cousin have Legendary Mental Perk. They resist Psychic and Mental effects fifty percent easier, and it gives their PSI stat a free point. Unlocks it, since most people don’t have PSI. Lawrence’s cousin will be registered and watched.

  “Lawrence has another perk: Psionic Aptitude. He has an additional point. The Program is vague on where the Perk originated. And he has the Tiresias Perk. The Program won’t tell me what it is, except it provides an additional PSI point and doubles his base Wisdom.”

  “Three points aren’t significant,” Erika said. Standing, she came over to Lawrence. She touched his hand. She put her other hand on his shoulder.

  “Yes they are.” Keller smiled. He looked up. “One point is a fluke. Maybe one in a million people. They must register, but they often can’t control it. A telekinetic might occasionally have thrown objects curve away from them, but they don’t know why.

  “Two points is a threat. He could be a danger to himself and everyone around him. Three points is an urban threat. He could level cities. Uncle Sam doesn’t allow nuclear weapons to walk around unsupervised.”

  “But he isn’t unsupervised,” Erika said. She put her hand on Lawrence’s. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He doesn’t even have an Affinity.”

  “Arcane Affinity is different from Psionic Affinity. The Program says he has a No Arcane Affinity Curse. Precogs are unusual. Most psions are unconscious telepaths; they’re good at detecting lies, but they aren’t trained enough to read minds. This boy can accurately see the future. He made you a sweater right before you arrived. He knew down to the minute.” Keller looked at Lawrence.

  “You saw visions of the past eighteen years ago when you were in the cradle. That isn’t precognition. It’s retrocognition. Hindsight. You lost your Status when you returned from Maelstrom, but you kept your white hair. White hair is a symptom of high wisdom, which is common among psions.”

  Lawrence realized with dread the car was bugged. Worse, the government had eyeballs watching their house. If the car was bugged, the exam room was bugged. Was anywhere safe to talk?

  “Until your other psi powers are discovered,” Keller continued. “You’re a danger to everyone around you. If you’re in a fight, or if you throw a temper tantrum and explode, you could level a town. It used to be when psions were discovered, they were executed.”

  “Then what are the next steps?” Erika looked at the agent. “Registration? House arrest?”

  “He was registered when his appraisal check came back after his return.” Keller smiled. “The next is transportation to a secure assessment facility. He will be comfortable. He will have visits. He will be placed in an induced coma for transport. Once his powers manifest, someone will determine the appropriate level of containment.”

  Alarm grew in Lawrence’s gut. His heart started pounding. Erika shot him a worried expression.

  “His aunt and uncle need to sign off on it. We should let them make the appointment for him to return.”

  “That’s the beauty of it. Psion containment is a matter of national security. We don’t need his aunt and uncle’s permission. We can expedite the whole process and take him right now.” Keller turned off his monitor. “This information is classified. If you run around talking about it, you will be charged with treason, Miss Erika. I’ll give you one minute to say your goodbyes.”

  He stood. He left. Lawrence turned to Erika. His face was full of fear. She took him in her arms.

  “The car was bugged,” he whispered.

  “The room is bugged too,” she said. She touched his face. “I’m sorry.”

  “They’ll keep me in a coma forever in some base in the desert.” He buried his face in her shirt. “I want to go home.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “I know.” She rubbed his back.

  (I’m a geist), she telepathically said. (Infiltration is my specialty. I’ll come find you. We’ll escape together.)

  (We—I can’t stay here,) he told her. (Even if I go home, they’ll just be waiting. I’ll have to leave. I don’t have anywhere to go.)

  (You’ll come with me. I’ll protect you. I promised your aunt I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I keep my promises, Faoil.)

  Lawrence clung tighter. He wanted to believe her, but she was a lone demon. How could she stand up to the might of the most powerful country in the world? He breathed in her perfume. It didn’t quite cover up the rotten-egg sulfur smell. How long before he smelled it again? How long before he saw her again? Would he ever?

  The door opened.

  “Oh, it’s you,” Erika said after a moment. “My lady.”

  “Miss Erika,” said a cool, accented woman’s voice.

  “Lawrence,” Erika said, tensing. “Look who it is.”

  Lawrence raised his head. He scrubbed his eyes. Lady Josephine Zhang, Daimyo of the Dusk Court, High Priestess of the Carmine King, strode into the room. She let the door close.

  “What are you doing here, Miss Erika?” Josephine said, her tone pleasant. “I seem to recall firing you.”

  “You did.” Erika’s tone was pleasant. Her face looked like she swallowed something sour. “There are many ways to inform someone their services are no longer required. One never expected a knife in the back.”

  “You took my son from me,” Josephine said, equally pleasant.

  “My apologies,” Erika said. She did not sound apologetic.

  Lawrence cleared his throat. Josephine looked at him.

  “The government stooge has been dealt with. My lawyers are keeping him busy.” Josephine turned her attention to Erika. “I must perform my routine checkup with my son. You need to leave. Don’t worry—I won’t steal him. You will be called when we are finished.”

  “It is his decision,” Erika said through gritted teeth.

  “Erika,” Lawrence mumbled. “I sold my soul to her to help you get out of your Contract with Lehman Bros. I must obey. It’s just a checkup.”

  Erika looked like she wanted to scratch Josephine’s eyes out.

  “Get. Out,” Josephine said, voice sweet as poison.

  “I’ll be right outside, hon.” Erika kissed the top of his head. “If you need something, yell.”

  She left. Josephine let the door swing closed. She moved to it. She turned the lock. It closed with a loud .

  “Now we won’t be interrupted,” she said turning to him. She smiled. She pointed to a spot on the floor. “Stand there. Remember how we stand? How do professionals stand, boy?”

  Lawrence moved to the spot she indicated. He spread his legs shoulder-width apart. He stood up straight and clasped his hands at the small of his back.

  Josephine crossed her arms. She took her time looking him up and down. She walked around him in a circle. She wet a paper towel in the sink. She wiped his face. She took off his glasses and held them up to the light. She used a small cloth to clean them. She put them back on his face. She lifted his chin with two fingers. Lawrence dropped his eyes.

  “Good boy,” she cooed. She pinched his cheek just a bit too hard. He didn’t flinch. “You’re almost ready to move in with me. A bit more training is required. You must be loyal only to me. You would spend every waking moment in my shadow or at my feet, where you belong.”

  She snapped her fingers and pointed at a different spot. Lawrence moved to it. Josephine put a blood pressure cuff on his arm. While it inflated, straightened his collar. She touched his wrist to check for pulse. She made notes without asking permission.

  “Um, Josephine?”

  “Open your mouth.” Josephine took a sucker out of her pocket. She pushed the sucker, still in its wrapper, into his mouth. “Close. Let it sit on your tongue. No talking.”

  Josephine was Japanese. She had white skin from spending all her time indoors, almond-shaped eyes, and angular features. She wore her hair long. Today she had it done up in a bun with several pins. She wore silk pants, a lavender blouse, and a white coat. Her eyes had red sclera with white pupils. She was much taller than a normal Asin woman, over six feet in flats. Today, she wore heels.

  Lawrence once had a vision of Josephine applying leeches to her face to make her skin paler. She looked him over with a predatory expression. She had sharp, carnivorous teeth. Her nails were long and black. He could tell it wasn’t polish. Josephine was a jorogumo, a spider-type spirit. Her hobbies were eating men and BDSM. Her day job, her passion, was being a professional slaver.

  “Your blood pressure is fine,” she said taking the cuff off. She made him stand.

  Josephine took Lawrence’s height and weight measurements. She made him walk back and forth several times. She ran her fingers over him. Whenever she touched him, power flowed out of her nails. Lawrence tensed every time he felt it. It was like having a live wire dragged across every inch of his skin. She squeezed each of the muscles in his arms and legs. She ran her fingers over his back and chest. She cupped and squeezed his middle.

  She circled behind him and placed a hand on back of his neck. “Straight,” she reminded him. Her fingers pinched the base of his skull, then trailed downward with precise pressure.

  “You still have the Dolorite’s brand. Hm. A shame, but my tattoo is still here. If the demon argues your ownership he will deal with me. You are .” Her hand lingered on his back. “Breathe in.”

  He did. Her other hand pushed against his stomach.

  “Again.” She moved her hand over his back. She moved with the kind of professionalism that felt like a lie. Nothing was overtly inappropriate. Nothing lingered too long. But every touch felt like a violation.

  “You’ve been eating properly,” she said, poking him. “Better than I expected. Someone’s been looking after you. Was it Erika?”

  Lawrence sucked his cheeks in. Josephine laughed.

  “Good boy.” She pulled the sucker out.

  “My aunt and uncle are taking care of me.”

  “Ah.” She pulled a bottle of pills from her purse. She poured two. They looked like gummy bears. She pressed one to his lips. “These are vitamins. Open. There we go. No biting.”

  Lawrence chewed and swallowed. She fed him the second one.

  “Good boy.” She scratched his ears the same way he did the neighbor’s dog. She leaned down. She trailed her nose along his neck, sniffing. “You stink of humans. La, we’ll fix it.”

  She lifted his chin. He moved like a poseable puppet, stripped of dignity. Protesting would just bring pain. Josephine held a thin silver tape to his neck.

  “Perfect. Collar size: small. La, you’ll grow into it. Unless… no. I suppose you won’t.” She smiled without humor and made a note. She measured his wrists, ankles, and waist. She did not give him permission to move.

  She unwrapped a small wax-paper package and handed him a burger. It was hot, greasy, but had no sauce. It was real meat on a real bun. No ration stamps.

  “Eat.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m your doctor, sweetie. I want to see what happens.” She slapped the back of his head. “Do not question me again. Eat.”

  He took a bite. The flavor exploded across his tongue. It was fat, salt, a little bloody. It looked like ground beef. It tasted like chicken. His body responded as the Program buzzed. A screen snapped into view.

  Species Job unlocked: Abomination. Abomination Job assigned.

  Species Template: Hybrid. Classification: Unknown.

  Abomination – lvl. 1 (Stats +2)

  Abomination: You are not Human. You are something else. Abominations are grotesque, unnatural, or cursed entities violating the natural order. Often, they are Outsiders, the spawn of something horrible, or born of a bizarre union. How they level is unknown.

  PSI +1. PSI power: unknown.

  Abomination Skill assigned: Malleable Form. Malleable Form – lvl. N/A

  Malleable Form: Intrinsic to all Abominations is their impossible, contradictory biology. Mutations with the Exclusive tag are no longer Exclusive.

  He dropped the burger. It fell to the floor with a wet slap.

  “You failed to become a Hellion,” Josephine said quietly, “Because you were never human.”

  Lawrence blinked. He couldn’t breathe. She pinched his cheek between two fingers. “Say ‘thank you,’ sweetie.”

  “(ERIKA),” he whispered. In his mind, he screamed.

  Erika phased through the door like a ghost.

  “Get. Off. Him,” Erika snarled. She seized the back of Josephine’s coat and threw the woman away. Erika swept Lawrence into her arms. In the same motion, she drew a Kahr K9 pistol from her purse and leveled it at the other woman.

  “Stop,” Josephine snapped. She got to her feet. She seemed unfazed by the gun pointed at her face. “Enough.”

  “What did you do to him?” Erika accused.

  “I revealed his Species Job.” Josephine adjusted her clothes.

  Lawrence threw his Status into Erika’s feed. Erika’s eyes flashed as she read it.

  “Empty night, put your weapon away before the stooges come,” Josephine said.

  Erika put the pistol in her purse. She did not let go of Lawrence or take her eyes off Josephine.

  “How?” Erika demanded.

  “I fed him a burger made from a local. If he was human, he would have gained a certain Horror Job. He did not.” Josephine picked up her clipboard. She made a note. “If he was a half-human hybrid, he would have gained it anyway. He did not. The Program doesn’t know what he is.”

  Erika studied his Status. She asked, “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” he lied. He was shivering.

  Josephine retrieved the sucker. She removed the wrapper. She moved across the room toward them. Erika tensed, but Josephine ignored her. Josephine shoved the sucker back into his mouth.

  “Stay quiet while the adults talk. You don’t need to speak.”

  Lawrence obeyed. It was a root beer sucker. He tasted nothing but shame. Josephine held out her hand. After a moment, Erika took it. They talked in silence, neither moving.

  Erika sighed. She nodded.

  Josephine closed the file. “You can keep him for a day. Then I’m sending him to the Scholomance. They have a psionics program. He will be safer there than in government custody.”

  “Why?” Lawrence said around the sucker. He stuck it between his cheek and gum.

  “Because the humans will come for you, Lawrence,” Erika said. She scratched his skin with her nails.

  “I’d prefer it to be on my schedule.” Josephine couldn’t resist touching him again. She tweaked his nose. “Let it rest on your tongue, son. When someone wants to hear you talk, they will tell you to speak.”

  Lawrence lowered his chin. He buried his head against Erika.

  “Can we leave?” Erika said.

  “In a minute.” Josephine folded her arms. She liked to make people wait. “Given he was raised by witches, he will be placed into a dorm with other witches. Be on your best behavior, my boy. If I hear one single complaint, you will find yourself under my tutelage before you can blink.”

  Lawrence believed her. He kept his mouth shut. He nodded.

  Josephine withdrew a small box from her pocket. She opened it. She presented him with a slim gold watch. It looked expensive and feminine.

  “This is a gift for my adopted son. Put it on your wrist.”

  Lawrence obeyed.

  “The face says, ‘This individual is the Property of Lady Josephine Zhang,’” Erika read. “It has your titles.”

  “It meets all the qualifications for an identification card or doggie chip. It is a passport with diplomatic immunity. He may roam with my permission,” Josephine said. “It is kinetic-powered. It functions as a school-appropriate collar. No mortal police force may detain him.”

  Lawrence studied the watch. He felt depressed. He could hide his tattoo and brand under a shirt. He could forget they existed. This watch’s weight was a constant reminder he was claimed. She thought of him as a dog she needed to chip.

  “La, such a beautiful boy,” Josephine said happily. “You may leave.”

  (Twenty-four hours?) he asked.

  (Less), she said.