The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance (Trisha Telep) (Kitty Norville 0.50)

That was a horrible thought. Squirming uncomfortably in her chair, arms refolded tightly against her chest, she shrugged. “I don’t know. But it could be. It, um, we look like we need to be isolated for a little while. A few hours. Maybe a full day. It’s nothing really harmful. I doubt we’d need medical observation,” she added quickly as Hindsight drew in a breath to speak. “It’s just. . . potentially embarrassing, I guess you could say. The sort of embarrassing where observation would just be a bad idea all the way around.”

“What, like you break out in massive pimples, or something?” Backhand asked, wrinkling his nose at the possibility.

“Uh . . . something like that,” Carrie muttered.

“In that case, I think we should avoid it. If it’s not harmful, but serves no purpose other than to isolate us for a while, we’re not going to be free to do our jobs in patrolling the city,” Steelhand pointed out. “And if it happens right after we leave the baseball game, then we should definitely avoid the baseball game.”

“Nice try, Steelhand,” their supervisor quipped, “but the two of you are still making a public appearance tonight. Be on the alert as you leave the ballpark though. Choose a different route, leave at a different time, but I do want you to go and make nice with the civilians. Try to ward off the powder and limit any direct vectors for contamination. Try to see who attacked you, Foresight.”

Nodding, she unfocused her eyes, attempting to return to the point in time when they were assaulted with the powder. She focused on following their futures, and strained hard to follow the two men. She caught a glimpse of cement walls, metal shelving and glass instruments. “I’m seeing ... a lab of some sort. Ah! Dr Mockery,” she realized, catching a glimpse of the Rescindant. “I’m pretty sure it’s him; he usually has those purple goggles of his and I can see them perched on his head. It’s definitely his minions who are trying to dust us with the powder he’s been making.

“He’s . . . He’s watching something on a monitor. He’s yelling at them. He’s not happy. Whatever the dust does to us ... ow ... I don’t think it gives the results he was looking for. I’m sorry, I can’t see any more right now.” Closing her eyes, she rubbed gently at her temples, trying to ease the headache that came from pressing too hard against time.

“All right, you have your assignments. Do keep in mind that Foresight can’t see everything, so stay sharp, keep your eyes open and be safe. There are old Ascendants, and there are bold Ascendants, but there aren’t any old, bold Ascendants . . . except for Mr Invulnerable, of course,” Oversight joked. No one laughed.

“Dismissed!”

Everyone gathered up their briefing reports and headed for the door. Carrie/Foresight turned to her partner. He looked like he was frowning behind his blue mask and, every once in a while, he glanced her way almost warily. She had no idea what he was thinking or why he was frowning. But she knew he was spoiling for a fight.

The door closed behind the others, leaving the two of them alone in the briefing room. She stood, but he didn’t move. Clearing her throat in the awkward silence, she offered, “Well, just in case we do go through with what I foresaw, I think we should go grab a couple of old uniforms to stash somewhere in the city before we head for the ballpark. In case that powder is some sort of contaminant.” When he just studied her, she prompted, “What do you think?”

Folding his arms across his chest in a pose reminiscent of her earlier one, he tilted his head a little. “I think you should tell me what you foresaw. The thing that requires ‘isolation’ and is ‘potentially embarrassing’ to both of us. As one of the potentially afflicted, I have a right to know.”

And have you screaming and running for the hills at the mere thought of being intimate with me? The woman you cannot stand outside of business hours?

She shook her head. At least she had a better excuse to use than her fragile ego. “You know why I can’t do that, Steelhand. Foreknowledge of an incompletely foreseen event can potentially lead to an even worse situation. League rules.”

“Fine. Then let’s talk about you trying to dump me as your partner. What is up with that?” he demanded, shifting in his seat to look at her. “I thought we were good together.”

Good together . . . The words flashed through her, leaving behind an entirely different connotation than the one he meant. Once again, she could see their bodies intertwining, vulnerable and intimate, reducing her from Foresight, heroine of the city, to Carrie, lonely, longing woman. Flushing, she cleared her throat and dragged her mind back to the more neutral aspects of life.

“You and I do make a good team out in the field. I don’t deny that, I have never denied that, and I swear that what I said just now in front of the others stands,” Foresight repeated. “You are an excellent addition to the team. I just . . .”

His dark brown eyes had narrowed at her blush. They narrowed further now. “You just . . . what? You just want to get rid of me? You just want another partner? You just want to go solo? Is that it?”

I just want you to look at me like you look at Farshot! But that wasn’t entirely accurate, so she bit back the words, frustrated. He was polite to their red-suited teammate, even flirted a little with her, but Foresight - Carrie - wanted more. She wanted more than he was giving her; she just didn’t think there was anything more within him for her, and was afraid to find out for sure.

Aware of the passing minutes, she shook her head. “We don’t have time for this argument right now. We’ll talk later.” Then swallowing the unpleasant lump of her discomfort, shoving it deep down where it wouldn’t interfere with her job, she headed for the ladies’ locker room.

It didn’t look like Steelhand the Uninterested was going to try to get himself into her armour-reinforced stretch pants anytime soon. Shame.

“I’d be happy to. It’s one of the few perks of the job,” Foresight/Carrie said to yet another citizen wanting to have a picture taken with her and her partner.

Steelhand’s smile was definitely looking strained, and hers was beginning to feel that way. She smiled a little more, posed with a giggling young woman between the two of them while the girl’s eye-rolling boyfriend took the picture. Over Steelhand’s shoulder, Carrie spotted a mother and a little boy coming out of one of the doors in the concrete-block wall. The moment the pictures were done, she gave the crowd around them an apologetic smile.

“Thank you all for your continuing support, but I see that the bathroom is now free, and even superheroes need to, well, you know. Steelhand? Shall we?” she asked, indicating the door behind him. The bathroom trick was really simply a ruse to get away from all the people. Sometimes it was the only thing that worked - the public could be so demanding.

“Please do excuse us,” he said graciously, wading through the crowd with an eagerness that betrayed his dislike for the press of people. As he had explained during the interview process for this job, it was one thing if he initiated the contact and could brace himself against a person’s thoughts, but an unexpected touch was unnerving and unwanted. She would’ve liked to believe that his disinterest in her was due solely to his dislike for inadvertently reading other people’s minds, but he didn’t seem to hesitate when it came

to being close to Farshot. After all, today wasn’t the first time they’d gone to the movies together.

Thankfully, the citizens parted way, and the pair made it to the bathroom door. As soon as the two of them were inside and Steelhand had thrown the lock, he faced her, guessing her intention. “You’re going to read the future?”

She nodded. “It’ll be easier now that we’re closer to the events.”

Leaning back against the wall next to the door, she stared across the room and unfocused her eyes. Her awareness of the crowds out on the mezzanine level faded as her attention twisted itself inside, then out, and she saw —felt - once again the scene of her and her partner being attacked. This time the image changed. They weren’t ambushed unknowingly, and coated in the yellowish powder by surprise; this time, she watched herself fling up a protective bubble, then lash out telekinetically, capturing the two attackers as they tried to flee.

She saw Steelhand stripping off his gloves, saw him touching the face of one of the masked, struggling captives. But then the vision switched off without warning. That was the frustrating thing about her gift; she only ever saw in glimpses and snatches, incomplete pieces. It was like trying to grasp the image printed on a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle with only a dozen pieces to go on. Sighing, she closed her eyes and shook her head.