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sitting on the platform bench, carrying on a conversation on his cell, but by the shift of his shoulders, the way his free ear was cocked in my direction, it was clear he had zeroed me. One of Kellen's men? Precautionary on his part? Perhaps. My own cell chimed. It was Sylvie. Meet me at five at the Alley. We have to talk. Wrong number, I said, just loudly enough for the other man to hear, and hung up. The train was hurtling into the station. I boarded, the other man locating himself on the other end of the car, still laughing and having his pretend cell conversation. We were the only ones inside. The train hurtled east, towards the harbor district, leaving the stilt-like buildings and the neon lights behind. Ahead, the city was shrouded in disused darkness. I knew the  |
car interior was vacuum-sealed, but I could swear I smelled the salt of the ocean. The man following me was reacting even more strongly, as his eyes were watering. He held up his fingers to his nose, and for an instant our gazes met. I knew at that moment that losing him would not be easy. It wasn't a matter of pulling off something dramatic, like jumping off, or shaking him with misdirection, because the moment we saw each other I saw his nostrils flare ever so slightly. That was his vestigial talent. He had marked my scent, and he would follow it to the end. To hear a reading of this piece, visit the Multimedia section.  |
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