not to.”
“All the years I worked with them, all the times I’ve been there…” He didn’t sound particularly distressed, more wondering than hurt. “They brought you there from the airport?”
“Yeah, they sent a driver to pick us up.”
“Did you see the big sculpture out front, in the courtyard?”
She tried to recall the details of their arrival. A small crowd of protestors had been gathered out in front of the tall, white building and they drew most of her attention. Some of them looked bored, sitting on the curb with their signs propped against their legs. The driver explained with a chuckle they were always around, every day, though they had little reason to get excited unless someone important or a news station showed up. The sculpture Micha was referring to rose from a broad circular fountain in the middle of the courtyard—a huge, granite angel with arms and wings gloriously spread. The sculpture was pretty. Jason had certainly seemed fascinated by it.
“Yeah,” she said. “Sorta. I was paying more attention to the protestors.”
“It’s called Benevolence.”
She snorted. “It should be called Irony.”
“A lot of people don’t like that the Institute is in the Illinois Medical District. Detractors say the Institute can’t be classified as a medical facility because they don’t do medical research. Supporters counter they study human physiology there, which makes it a medical facility.”
“If we’re lucky,” June said, “they’ll blow it up. Then everyone’ll be happy.”
Micha was silent. The revelation had to be difficult for him, his once happy place now a fortress of villainous bullshit. Unfortunately, Micha needed to learn no good deed went unpunished.
“How did you discover your abilities?” Micha asked.
She welcomed the change of subject, even if the subject they switched to wasn’t one she enjoyed discussing.
“Hell if I remember.” She hoped the words sounded casual enough that Micha wouldn’t pick up on the lie. “People didn’t know as much about supernatural stuff when I was a kid, so Jason and I didn’t know we were different for a while.”
“What made you realize it?”
She shrugged. “We were spoiled. Kids, teachers, even our parents, they’d just do whatever we wanted. We didn’t think it was strange. Then around second or third grade, people started noticing we were weird.” An old anxiety stirred in her gut. “Around that time we found out for ourselves we were screwed up.”
“People always find out. One way or another. I saw how my sisters were treated.”
“Yeah. Our parents split up because of us. Always fighting about discipline, about all the stress we put on them. They must have thought they were losing their minds. My dad hated us. He was afraid of us. Me, especially. Jason quit using his power around the time we realized we had it.”
Micha turned his face to her, frowning. “That must have been rough.”
“Yeah, well. When we were fifteen, we moved with our mom from Rhode Island to California to get away from him. She got an offer from an opera company in Los Angeles. Singing’s her passion. Fitting, huh?”
Micha smiled faintly.
“California gave me a place to rebel like crazy. I lied about my age, got an apprenticeship in a tattoo shop, learned my skills. Then I filled my head with holes and covered my skin with ink. My mother was relieved, I think. Normal teenage bullshit versus being a freak of nature.”
“You’re not a freak of nature. Paranormal abilities are not a disease.”
“It’s easy for you to say that.” She tried to keep the bile out of her voice. Micha probably heard it enough. “Our mother got this guy to come over to our apartment and talk to us a couple times a week. He was impervious to our abilities, so he could teach us how to control them. That was when, you know, all this stuff started to become ‘science.’”
“Was he a vampire?”
“A vampire?”
“Vampires can block most paranormal abilities.”
“Hell, I don’t know.” She heaved herself into a sitting position. “Doesn’t matter, though. It was what it was. It is what it is.”
“Eloquently put.”
She sat quiet for a moment, knees drawn up, elbows resting on them. “What about you? What was it like being the odd one out?”
“You don’t want to hear about that.”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
Micha rubbed his face. “It’s boring and inconsequential. Another time.”
“Unfair. After I just told you my darkest secrets.”
“Life isn’t fair. And you wouldn’t want it to be. That would mean all the bad stuff happens because you deserve it.”
She grinned. “It’s a good thing you’re hot. Otherwise, by now I would have punched you in the face for all these gems of wisdom you keep flinging at me.”
Micha sat up too, on one elbow. “So are you in a relationship? Got a special lady?”
“Oh my God, stop.”
Micha laughed.
She feared she might actually blush. “No. I don’t want a boyfriend. Not right now.”
“I don’t remember introducing you to my wife. I do remember meeting you. I remember what I thought of you when I met you.”
“You thought I was an uncouth, nasty little punk girl, didn’t you? Most people do. You probably still think that. Because I am.”
“I thought you were absolutely fascinating, and I still do.”
“I bet you say that to all the supernatural girls.”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t really know me, Micha. You don’t really know yourself right now.”
Micha sat up fully and swung his long legs over the side of the sofa. “There you go with ‘you don’t know me’ again. I know you’d like me to kiss you.”
Heat swiftly shot up her neck and into her cheeks. “Why do you think that?”
Micha opened his mouth, but then hesitated, before titling his head and giving her a smile. “I can tell. I have amnesia, but I’m not stripped of my perceptions.”
“Oh really? So you’re into dirty punk girls?” She struggled not to start mocking, her natural defense mechanism. “’Cause whether you know it or not, you were married to a very austere, beautiful woman.”
“I don’t
