Toby Streams the Universe by Maya Lassiter

Author:Maya Lassiter [Lassiter, Maya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Psychic Powers, Maya Lassiter, Suspense, Telepathy
Publisher: Waking Dreams Press
Published: 2011-11-18T23:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

* * *

A HAMMERING AT his door got Toby up from his computer. It was early evening, slanted light hitting the sides of the buildings across the street from his windows, turning their edges, where they peeked out from behind each other, gold. The valleys between buildings were dark with shadows, but the east-west streets were still lit with day. He had been staring, he had to admit, watching the shadows grow, thinking about Sarah and Linton, about Alice, about his Grandfather, about the missing pages from the Histories. He was supposed to be working on an image file for Agatha, trying to read more about her from the Stream. Well, before that he had been trying to find a future for Penelope that didn’t involve losing Ethan, but he had given up, for the moment, when all paths seemed to lead to the same place, that fucking sofa. Jesus, he could not tell Penelope that, that he had failed. No.

But Penelope and Ethan aside, the Agatha thing—that was . . . odd. The Stream would fire up, happy and twitching like a dog ready for a walk, and then the images and feelings would . . . diverge, heading off into territory he was pretty sure wasn’t related, slippery fish in river rapids. It was almost as if someone was repelling him. Was that possible? Or maybe it was himself, repelling his own attempts at reading his own psyche—Agatha was a dream character, after all.

Bang, bang—it had to be Carl. No one else banged with that particular mix of impatience and entitlement. Toby unfolded his long legs, stiff with too much sofa time.

“Come on, open up already!” Bang!

“I’m coming, jesus—” Toby shook out his legs, opened his door. “Do you ever call?”

“Well, yeah.” Carl strode in, waving a manilla folder in the air like he was batting flies, “but all your calls go to Penelope. And she isn’t picking up.”

“Her kid is in the hospital.”

Carl spun around. “Ethan? Is he okay?”

Toby closed the door. “For the moment. How come everyone knew about Ethan but me?”

“I dunno. Because you’re a dumb-ass? How could you not know about Ethan? Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of psychic?”

Toby crossed his arms over his chest, regarded his oldest friend. “What is it I can do for you, Carl?”

Carl waved the file again. “I need to know if this guy is a murderer.”

“No.”

Carl’s jaw dropped. “You know that already?”

“No,” Toby said patiently, “ ‘No’ I’m not going to help you with that.”

Carl flopped onto the couch. “Why the hell not?”

“Because, dumb-ass, the last time you wanted me to help you with something murder related, I couldn’t sleep for weeks from all the gory images you got jammed in my head. No thank you. Do you want a beer?”

“Yes. Wait—no. Don’t change the subject. Look, all I want you to do is take a look at this address and tell me if I should investigate this guy or not.”

“All you’ve got is an address?”

“Yeah.

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