The Scribe Read Free

this factory for any length of time, I wanted to install a modern flash oven. Maybe get some decent flooring to cover the cracked concrete.
    “Any idea who this recruit is?” I asked casually.
    “Just that she contacted me through Myrtle.” At my mystified look, he explained further. “Myrtle’s a friend of our mutual friend Henry’s. She’s set up a halfway house of sorts a few blocks over.” Julian inclined his head toward the south end of the building. More and more jackers were moving into our decrepit slice of Chicago New Metro, and the tru-cast reporters had taken to calling it Jackertown—not the most flattering description, but probably accurate. The place was an abandoned slum, and wayward jackers moving in didn’t improve it much.
    “So this new recruit has already been vetted by Myrtle?” I worked the muscles between my shoulder blades, trying to unwind the tension. It had only been a couple weeks since Serena walked in from nowhere.
    “Not exactly,” Julian said. “The recruit contacted Myrtle by private message and seemed to already know we were looking. She just wanted Myrtle to set up the meet.”
    “So another walk-in,” I said. “Because that went so well before.”
    Julian spread his hands wide. “I didn’t know much more about you when you walked through my door.” He smirked, like he knew something I didn’t. Either Julian was far too trusting, as Anna suspected, or his ability to influence people made him dangerously overconfident. He made a mistake with Serena, and he probably shouldn’t have let me in either.
    Two sharp raps sounded at the front.
    “Could you do the honors?” Julian gestured toward metal door. An ancient punch code lock was all that we had for security, beyond what we could do with our abilities. And the weapons.
    I pulled the gun out of the back of my pants while I strode toward the entrance, lunging out with my mind beyond the door. If there was anything at all suspicious outside, I would shoot first and ask questions later. My mental reach pushed through the relatively weak mind barrier of the person at the door, plunging deep into the soft gel her mind. I got a flash of her personality before she shoved me out again: young, wary of strangers, but also wildly willing to take risks.
    I gripped the rough handle of the gun tighter and hesitated at the door. She knew I was there and nothing strange had happened yet. No sudden instinctual need to flee, like Julian’s brain would cause. No impenetrable barrier like Anna’s. Of course, no one could detect my ability with a simple mind surge either—I had to touch my victims before I could use my skill. If she was bent on attacking, she was saving it for later. Maybe once she was inside.
    I held the gun at the ready as I opened the door.
    Covered from head to toe in black, including a face-hugging Second Skin mask that obscured her features, she wasn’t at all what I expected. Her eyelids moved under the mask, and she minutely cocked her head, so I knew that she could see me.
    “Are you going to shoot me or invite me in?” Her voice was strung tight and her right hand slowly flexed, as if it wished for a weapon to counter mine.
    “It’s alright, Sasha,” Julian said over my shoulder. “Please invite our guest inside. No reason to keep her waiting out in the cold.” A gust of crisp winter air pulsed over the threshold, as if to underscore Julian’s words.
    I eased back, clearing the doorway, but my gun stayed trained on her. She took two steps inside, watching me through her mask and keeping an open path to the door.
    “Put the gun away, Sasha,” Julian said. “I’m sure that our guest won’t be any kind of trouble.”
    I assumed that he had dipped into her instinctual mind to control her. Or at least made sure she wasn’t a threat. I tucked the gun into the front of my pants, but kept a hand on it.
    Julian welcomed her inside with a sweep of his hand. “You won’t need the mask, not if you’re