章 10: Mickey

I was flexing my Ability as I was walking the streets. Making snowflakes dance in the air, as though on the invisible current of wind, making the noise of oncoming traffic a little bit louder, extending my senses to envelop surrounding buildings, and feel their pressure.

It was something I did when I felt threatened, a way to reaffirm my ability to influence the world. To someone like me, the world was more malleable than to most, and there was a certain comfort in that. But influence didn't translate to power. It was almost like Newton's third law applied to life: for every action, there was an equal opposite reaction. The more you were able to affect the world, the harder the world hit back. The more influence I had, the more danger I was in.

Adrenalin was rushing through my blood, because the thing I was about to do had the potential to be dangerous and stupid. I was going to travel into wraith territory.

Wraiths weren't supposed to interact in mass. I mean, the PA had no rules against it, but it was just common sense: after all the trouble they went into to protect our identities from the human population, gathering in large groups was like painting targets on our backs. Avoiding each other was a smart thing to do, and we did, for the most part. But it was one of those strange rules that everybody knew, but almost no one followed. In the end, the need to interact with someone of your kind drove wraiths to seek each other out. As a result, there was a small, secretive community of genetically altered people, hiding in plain sight among oblivious humans.

Not every wraith in the city was a member of this community. I, for example, didn't want anything to do with it. Putting myself at risk to socialize with others like me wasn't that appealing. And besides, they weren't really like me. Hiding the extent of my Ability from the PA was hard enough; hiding it from other wraiths would probably be even harder.

But I needed to find the man with blue eyes. I needed information. And there were only two places to find information about a wraith: the PA's archives and the wraith club.

I knew where to find it from my early days of living on my own, when I was stupid enough to believe that there was someone out there to help me. I came to rethink that position after a couple of visits, and haven't been there since.

The place where wraiths met was hidden in a big office building on the outskirts of the town. It wasn't supposed to be invisible, just extremely boring. There was an old door with peeling paint, accessible from the parking lot, and a small sign with 'Local Postmark Collectors Association' written in a barely legible font.

Behind that door, there was a narrow staircase leading deep into the guts of the building, and another door, even less noticeable than the first. The club itself looked like it existed outside of the normal flow of time. There were tables and dusty chairs, probably older than I was, and stands with old stamps glued to yellow paper. On the far side of the room, a small window led to the kitchen. For a small price, you could get tea, coffee or cheap beer, and something to eat if you were desperate enough.

The owner of the club, an old, solemn man named William, was standing behind a reception desk, reading a newspaper. There were maybe half a dozen people inside: some were drinking beer, talking in quiet voices, others were watching a game of Death Pilgrimage, possibly waiting for their turn to play the winner.

Death Pilgrimage was an old wraith game, past down from the Middle Ages. It was played on a circular board, painted with concentric circles and symmetrical spoke-lines. It functioned as a spiderweb, with horizontal lines being 'sticky', while vertical lines allowed figures to move freely. The figures themselves were made of glass, or, traditionally, rock crystal. Unlike chess, these figures didn't have specific roles. However, their color affected their behavior, with pure ones being the weakest, and black ones - the strongest.

The goal of the game was simple: to end up in possession of a figure that collected the most kills or outlived all others. However, it wasn't just about intellect and strategy. Players were allowed to change the color of the figures with their Ability, making it a competition in mental endurance as well.

But, like chess, the game itself told a story. It was supposed to represent a real ritual of Death Pilgrimage that ancient wraiths adhered to. When a wraith felt the coming of the Disease, they were sworn to abandon their families and leave the lands of the wraiths forever, venturing deep into the desert until the heat or the Disease would kill them.

The strongest and the most resilient were actually able to cross the desert and reach the lands beyond, where the ancient humans lived. So, for centuries, the only wraiths humans ever encountered were frightening creatures baked in sand and blood, their Ability magnified tenfold by the Disease, driven by it into murderous madness.

No wonder they hate us so much.

The players currently venturing on the symbolic Pilgrimage were a young man and a woman in her forties. They stopped playing and looked at me, as did everyone else in the club.

'Hi'

I waved awkwardly.

William put down his newspaper:

'Can I help you?'

He didn't recognize me. No wonder. I was probably sixteen or seventeen when he saw me last, and much less composed.

There wasn't a secret code to announce that you're a wraith, per se. But any manifestation of the Ability would have sufficed.

I fished some change from the pocket and threw it on the counter with a polite smile.

'Yeah. Can I get a cup of tea?'

As I said it, the coins landed. Two of them rolled a bit and stopped, both balancing on their edges.

William looked down and then gave me a friendly smile.

'Sure thing, son. I'm William, by the way. Welcome.'

Everyone in the club instantly relaxed. The game of Death Pilgrimage continued.

William poured tea into a glass and put it in front of me.

'Sugar?'

I shook my head.

'Haven't seen you around before, son. What's your name?'

I blew on the tea.

'It's Matthew. We've actually met a few years back.'

'Matthew... oh, you're Linda's boy! Well look at you, all grown up. How have you been?'

There was a genuine warmth in his voice when he mentioned my mom's name, and I couldn't help but like him a bit more for that.

'Good, I guess. How are you?'

William made a face.

'Getting old, son. Ain't it a thing?'

It was. Most of us never had to worry about getting old.

We chatted for a while. I was following the game with the corner of my eye. The young man was losing. He was probably close to my age, but looked like a fifteen-year-old boy because of his disheveled blond hair, big eyes and skinny figure. There was a stubborn, pissed-off expression on his face as he was losing one figure after another. He managed to turn one of them purple, but it didn't slow down his opponent for long. The woman was calm and friendly. She was smiling, confidently moving her pieces along the lines. Most of them were orange or red.

'So, Matthew, is there a particular reason you've decided to visit us again? Or were you just sick of being around humans?'

I hesitated, looking at tea leaves at the bottom of my glass.

'I'm looking for someone.'

William smiled.

'Oh? Let me guess. A young lady?'

'No'

His eyebrows flowed up, but he didn't say anything.

'A man. Tall, very lean. Maybe homeless. Blue eyes, a small scar under his lip.'

'Well, what is his name?'

'I don't know.'

William chewed his lip.

'And he is... someone who could have come here?'

I nodded.

'Yes.'

He was silent for a minute.

'No, I don't know anyone like that. And If I don't know this man, no one here will. Sorry, son.'

Behind us, the game was coming to the end. All of the blond kid's figures were trapped. The woman moved hers in positions to attack, not bothering with defense.

Then, suddenly, the kid smiled. He squinted a little, and suddenly all five of his remaining figures simultaneously turned black. He shot a quick, smug look at the woman.

What a fool. Turning multiple pieces at once was extremely hard for most wraiths, especially turning them black. To do what he just did, you had to be at least C5, maybe even stronger. And power like this is not something you should throw around.

He was showing off, triumphantly proud of his potent Ability. But potent Ability wasn't something to be proud of; it was something to be scared of.

I returned my attention to William, disgusted.

'Thank you. It was a long shot, anyway.'

Damn. What was I supposed to do now? My mind helpfully reminded me about the other place I could find information about the man with blue eyes, but I wasn't crazy enough to consider gaining access to the PA's archives. Still, by now I felt like there was no way back. I've concealed our meeting from the Protector, so now there was only one thing left to do: find him and learn what he knew about my mother. The question was: how?

I finished my tea, said goodbye to William and headed for the door. The game was over: one black figure remained on the desk, slowly turning back to pure. The kid used it to kill his other figures and then went on a rampage hunting down enemy pieces. Reckless strategy, but effective.

I almost reached the door when someone touched my shoulder. I turned around and saw the blond player standing behind me with a somewhat tense expression on his face.

'Hey. I'm Mickey.'

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