PsyCop Briefs: Volume 1 by Jordan Castillo Price

Author:Jordan Castillo Price [Price, Jordan Castillo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JCP Books LLC
Published: 2016-10-11T00:00:00+00:00

5

Jacob turned and got a load of me, then glanced down at himself. There was a single smear of glowing glitter on his leather jacket, which he buffed off neatly with the heel of his palm.

I swallowed back a groan.

“I have some napkins,” he offered.

“Don’t bother. You’ll just grind in the glitter.”

“Not if we’re careful.”

“But, your hand….”

“It’ll just take a second. C’mere.”

I rolled my eyes and eased into the alcove beneath the UV bulb, where a poster proclaimed in luminescent letters, Men’s Rights Are Human Rights! Maybe it was best for him to take a stab at cleaning me up in case there’d be black lights at the party. After all, he couldn’t make it much worse—plus, if he was focused on my peacoat, he wouldn’t need to dwell on his throbbing knuckles—or the poster’s stupidity.

Jacob pulled out a napkin, hunkered down in front of me, and dabbed.

My heart skipped a beat, and my field of vision went white.

There was no big boom, no smell of ozone and crisped hair, no dancing afterimages, but it seemed like there sure as hell should have been. At least Jacob felt it too, the energetic smack when the white light I forgot I’d been hoarding arced from me to him, and he lit up brighter than a well-positioned strobe light. He gasped and staggered back, and then he gave a long and heartfelt shiver.

Well…that was one way of distracting him from his shitty evening.

He resettled his jacket with a shrug and rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t believe I…I’m so sorry.” He shifted around as if he was suddenly uncomfortable in his own clothes—or, heck, maybe even his own skin.

There weren’t really words for this energy swap phenomenon—not yet, anyhow, since the field of Psych is so new. The give-and-take routine is uncharted territory. Whatever Jacob does, he’s strong. But even so, I worry that someday I’ll channel more juice than he can absorb. Maybe the overflow would just go back wherever it came from—maybe not. I haven’t overloaded Jacob’s mojo-receptors yet, but I wasn’t keen on testing our limits when we had no idea what the consequences might be.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Jacob took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It tingles.”

I’m visual, he’s somatic. The energy I label as white light feels effervescent to him. “C’mere.” I opened my arms. “Pass some of it back.”

It was as good a time as any to experiment. I’d generated a bunch of protective energy, and the only scary thing in that old theater was the fact that the people in it actually believed their own idiotic hatespeech. He reached toward me, just one hand, and we pressed our fingertips together. And waited. The sixth sense can be elusive. Unless I’ve got a visitor from the spirit world chatting with me, everything feels subjective, and frankly, somewhat made-up. It seemed as if I could feel the energy teeming beneath Jacob’s skin, but it also felt like a figment of my own imagination.

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