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  Repulsion

  Book Two of the Compulsion Series

  Perrin Briar

  Chapter One

  IT’S THE COLD that gets you.

  Like a hand bigger than a man’s body, squeezing, ever so slowly. Cold brings the pain. It is the temperature of the Grayskins, the opposite of humanity. The warmth doesn’t slip away, it simply disappears, displaced by the frost.

  Many things can stop the cold, but it is always there, waiting. In the deep night, it grips you. When the dawn comes, the cold leaves the same way the warmth left, without relief or any reassurance that humanity has returned home, even for a day.

  Siren groggily opened her eyes wide, exposing them to the damp dust filtering through fifty feet of live oak branches. She lay facing upward in a hammock strung between the immense lower limbs. For a moment, between the icy night and the glaring day, she enjoyed the beauty of her world.

  But the base urge of hunger eventually forced her to face the world below. Where was she exactly? It didn’t matter. Every place in this world was the same. Cold. Sick. Desperate. And now, without Wyvern, lonely.

  In recent weeks, Siren had become adept at avoiding anything that walked upright, living or otherwise. The Grayskins offered her nothing. Humans hadn’t proven very good company either. She had begun a journey to Nowhere and had succeeded in getting there.

  Siren vaulted to the ground and rolled up the hammock, quickly stuffing it into a backpack. Even in Nowhere, it paid not to be vulnerable. The slow were vulnerable.

  A squirrel darted from a nearby tree to the one Siren had just vacated, working its way up and around the trunk in furtive twitches. As she watched, she considered breakfast, pausing to reach under her shirt and run her hand over her sharp ribs. No, her body hadn’t fallen apart yet. Better to keep moving.

  Deeper in the forest, she cleared away brush and leaves from the motorcycle that kept her away from friend and foe. Strapping on her backpack and zipping up the huge man-sized leather jacket, she kicked the motor to a roaring start and wound through the trees, scattering all manner of wildlife on either side. Her dark hair moved like a flag in the wind.

  The trail led to a dirt road, which in turn fed to cracked blacktop. She opened up the throttle until the feeling of freedom overcame her. At last she had arrived at the only state where the truth of the past and fear of the future could not touch her.

  The sun dried her lips, the wind parched her cheeks. As the engine heated up, sweat dripped down her legs and made them itch. She had no time to scratch. The faster she rode, the more she had to concentrate on the road ahead, disregarding anything close to her.

  Her thoughts left her half-starved body and sought comfort in maintaining her stiff arms. She could stay this way. Out here, miles in front. She could stay this way for hours, days. It had been days. She allowed her speed to decrease, her field of vision to expand to the sides of the road between her location and horizon.

  An abandoned car went by on the left. Probably empty anyway. Too easy. It took skill to hack a gas pump. All it took to drain a car was the ability to suck, something every newborn had.

  Gas station ten miles ahead, a sign proclaimed. She opened the throttle a bit, but not too much. She had to keep her vision wide enough to see that station. The fuel gage said the tank was three-quarters full, but she knew that wasn’t right. She let up on the throttle, then a little more. Her fear was realized as the two cylinders traded coughs, then stopped making noise altogether.

  Siren squeezed the clutch and smoothly rolled to a stop, switched the petcock to reserve and tried to restart it. Nothing happened. She stepped off, set the kickstand, and stared at it. Then she cast around.

  Miles of road behind her, miles ahead. To each side, weeds, then trees. Pine and live oak. No one was in sight. No one in her mind. The hypnotic state brought on by the vibrations of this machine began to wear off.

  The wind dried the sweat over her body. She thought of untold millions of gallons of gasoline all over the world. Refinery tanks, pipelines, tankers, railroad cars. Useless to her.

  She picked up her backpack, the bow she’d lifted from a distant arms store, and set off into the woods. Too exposed on the road with no motor.

  Chapter Two

  ONE STEP at a time, the ground moved underneath her. Not nearly as diverting as motoring, this method of travel forced Siren to absorb the world around her. It also made her aware of the hunger that bit her insides. Still, it was better than stopping. When she stopped, she would be truly alone. And when the fatigue became too much, she had to close her eyes. There, she always saw the same thing…

  A barn in the middle of nowhere, the Grayskins controlled by a mere boy…

  Siren shook her head. She didn’t need to think about that. Not right now. Not ever.

  Where were all the squirrels? Siren thought vaguely. Squirrels liked trees, she supposed, and here there were only weeds. She had left the trees behind miles ago, not that she had noticed. She must have headed too far west.

  Her mind was not sharp. Her vision was blurred. She had not found a place to fill her water bottle since she had left the trees behind. How had she wandered so far into nothingness?

  She closed her eyes and focused her thoughts. Wyvern, the brother that had always been there when she needed him, guiding her, protecting her, teaching her, was there to greet her. But he was dead, a knife slipping between his ribs. Thanks to him she had escaped unharmed, at least physically. She should not be alive. Maybe she did not deserve to be.

  A clang and a squeal.

  Siren’s eyes snapped open wide, a hand finding her bow. She peered around for the origin of the noise. She saw nothing.

  “Ow!” the squealing thing said.

  It came from her left, a clutch of scrubby trees she hadn’t noticed. Behind it was a poorly-concealed camper van. A small boy stood with two handfuls of rocks in his hands, eyes wide and staring at Siren.

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter Three

  SPICE, old sweat and smoke filled Siren’s nostrils before she could open her eyes. When she did, she recognized its source was an inch from her face. The old woman jumped back.

  “Ever so sorry,” she said. “We didn’t know if you were still alive.”

  She licked her lips as though Siren might have become a meal otherwise. She was a middle-aged woman wearing a dress every color of the rainbow, sewn together in pieces like an old patchwork quilt. Her skin was dark and wrinkled by the sun. Her hair, though naturally thick and wiry, was neatly pulled back into a single braid. She could have been Native American, but Siren didn’t think so.

  “Happy to disappoint you,” Siren said, looking at the woman sideways.

  She sat up, still in the place where she had blacked out earlier.

  “Just a little too hungry,” she said.

  “Why don’t you come eat with us?” the old woman said. “We have plenty, and you might not get much farther otherwise.”

  Siren was weak, but the few minutes of rest had given her the energy to think. She Sensed three people nearby, including the boy and a young woman she couldn’t see.

  “That’s very kind of you,” Siren said.

  This kind of hospitality was indeed rare. Communities were tightly knit and tended not to trust outsiders. Generosity was appreciated whenever encountered. Still, Siren did not trust it.

  “Do you think you can stand now?” the old woman said. “I was ju
st getting supper started.”

  Siren struggled to her feet like a newborn colt, unsure of herself. The older woman took her arm and supported her. Siren hated that she needed the help. They walked toward the camper, its outside door light glowing as evening faded.

  Something about being near people gave Siren a strength she couldn’t get from nourishment or any kind of rest. It was like their emotions came alive in her mind, forcing her to acknowledge them. It was natural for her. She had never noticed it until she discovered her ability to Compel others by nudging their emotions.

  The bench Siren sat on in the van was covered with an Afghan blanket. Across from her were two small windows that looked out through the trees at the large orb of sun on the horizon, preparing to take a dive.

  The windows were clean, surrounded by hanging trinkets and pendants on chains. There must have been a hundred or more of them: crucifixes, medals, small gold nuggets. Some were intricately styled and would have fetched a good price in the old cities. Even today they would be quite expensive, Siren thought. Such things were rare.

  Siren placed her hand on her chest and fingered the carved wooden arrow head beneath her shirt, then instinctively glanced at the older woman standing by a bubbling pot on the stove.

  “What’s your name?” the old woman said.

  “Siren. What’s yours?”

  “Ella. I’m very pleased to meet you. The boy’s Lucas, and his mother…”

  Ella pointed up toward the sleeper over the cab of the RV, where another woman was sleeping.

  “...is Daisy.”

  Daisy tossed a little when Siren walked in, and now lay with a pillow over her head as the other two women conversed.

  “I hope you like spicy soup,” Ella said. “I’m afraid it’s the only way I know how to cook anything. I could just use cucumber and it would still turn out spicy.”

  “It’ll be the pot you’re using,” Siren said. “There will be a spicy lining from what you cooked in it before.”

  “Of course!” Ella said, shaking her head. “Why didn’t I think of that before?”

  She shook her head with a smile.

  “You’re a sharp one,” she said. “And to think, we could have avoided eating just spicy food all this time.”

  Siren smiled back. It concealed her alarm. There was something somehow false about Ella, something Siren didn’t quite trust. A kernel of suspicion sprouted in her belly.

  For the first time in a great while, she opened herself up to her Compulsion ability. She poked and prodded at the old woman. Ella glanced—a fraction of a second, blink and you would miss it—toward the pendants that hung round the window. A shot of playfulness, edged with darkness, came through the bond. And then excitement, and it flared when she turned her eyes on Siren.

  Everything clicked into place.

  Ella was a trickster, a vulture. She hadn’t just found or made these trinkets. She had stolen them from weary travelers like herself. Siren imagined with disgust the number of bodies necessary to amass such a collection.

  She needed to get away from there, as fast as possible. But she still needed to eat. Was there a way she might be able to use this moment for her benefit?

  “You’re so kind to take me in like this,” Siren said sweetly. “It’s so rare to come across kindness these days.”

  The soup was still cooking. It couldn’t be doctored until right before serving, after it had been poured into bowls. That would be the time to strike, Siren thought. Right when these people planned on taking advantage of her.

  “You’d be surprised how many good helpful souls there are,” Ella said.

  Indeed, Siren thought. Helpful enough to leave their treasured things with you.

  Ella tasted the soup with a wooden spoon and grinned.

  “Mm,” she said. “Just about ready.”

  She turned to the open door.

  “Lucas!” she said. “Time for dinner!”

  Daisy, in the bunk above, rolled over and dropped her legs over the ledge of the sleeper.

  “Good evening, Daisy,” Ella said. “We have a guest.”

  Daisy looked Siren over, suddenly wide awake. She climbed down a ladder to the cramped kitchen area, working her way around Ella, now pouring soup into bowls. Siren watched carefully, knowing the moment of spiking would come soon. Ella picked up an unlabeled vial from a shelf. That would be it.

  Siren decided to strike.

  She hit Ella with a powerful force of confusion. Ella physically stumbled, and when she came back to the bowls, vial in hand, she frowned, unsure of what she was meant to do next.

  Siren forced a thin string of Compulsion into the older woman, who now nodded, certain of what she ought to do. She sprinkled the mysterious powder into three of the bowls, instead of the one she had initially intended.

  “Let me give you a hand,” Siren said.

  She picked up the bowl without the extra ingredient, and one with. She moved outside. Daisy unfolded a table from a compartment on the side of the camper. Siren put the two bowls down and sat in front of the one without the mysterious powder.

  Ella came with the remaining bowls. Daisy and Lucas took a seat. Ella looked a little spaced out, going through the motions without thought.

  “Dig in,” Daisy said.

  They did, the family sharing a smile with one another as they did so. Siren enjoyed the soup. It tasted good, despite the spice. Siren felt stronger by the second. Within minutes Siren’s spoon scraped the bottom of her bowl.

  “That was delicious,” Siren said. “If it’s not too rude, I’d love to ask for seconds.”

  “Of course!” Ella said. “I’ll get it for you!”

  “No need to trouble yourself,” Siren said. “I’ll get it.”

  Siren picked up on the strong sense of mirth from the other diners as she spooned the soup into her bowl. Siren felt the same.

  Chapter Four

  WELL-RESTED eyes jolted into being, looking left to right. Nourishment and hydration pulsed in Siren’s capillaries.

  Night had fallen, the cold returning with a vengeance, a slimy snake to a camper’s sleeping bag. It was before dawn, time to make a silent exit from the gypsy camp. It had been a risky exercise, allowing herself to sleep, but she’d desperately needed it.

  She had waited until the powder had taken effect before setting her own head down to sleep. She was pleased to find they were all still fast asleep, how she would have been had their plan worked.

  Siren wanted to put some distance between herself and the gypsies as soon as she could, but there was one more thing she had to do. Moving slowly and quietly, she crept to the door of the camper.

  She stepped inside and grabbed handfuls of food and stuffed it in her pockets. Then she froze, a peculiar feeling coming over her. She turned.

  The boy was looking directly at her.

  Siren jerked back, reaching for him with her Skill. She needn’t have bothered. A snore escaped the boy’s throat. He was sleeping with his eyes open. She smiled at the boy and left.

  Siren entered the darkness, wishing she was riding fast again, with pinpoint focus and no mental energy to spare for thoughts of Whitegate and Quinn’s betrayal. Death was certainly in her past. She strongly suspected it would be in her future too. Her death, certainly, and the deaths of many others.

  No points of light escaped the Sun, wherever it was, to land in her visible domain. It was going to be another long day.

  Chapter Five

  SIREN had made the water bottle last all day. Her skin felt alive, crawling with tiny creatures. The weak but spicy soup of the night before was the last hot meal she had consumed. The day had proceeded with her nibbling at the food she had stashed in her pockets.

  She still had the desire to keep moving, just as she had when driving her stolen motorcycle, but movement was much more difficult now. Whatever nourishment she had derived from the gypsy’s soup, however harmless, had been barely enough to get her the miles she had walked so far.
r />   Fear and loneliness gripped Siren. She had been so resolute after Wyvern’s death left her with no family, and Quinn’s deception had further left her isolated. She was on her own. Now she felt the pain and humiliation of knowing she needed someone, and the desperate emptiness of having no one. She felt like crying, but there was no time. She had to find help.

  The smell of manure assaulted her senses. She sniffed under her arms but realized it wasn’t her. Her spirits lifted. Her senses were still working, and she was on the verge of discovering over survivors. The very slight breeze gently puffed against her.

  She turned toward the wind and she saw the source of the odor; a large barn surrounded by intact fencing, a house in near orbit. She started walking toward it, forgetting for the moment the evils she had faced just recently.

  She Sensed people. There were no harsh emotions in this place. As she got closer, she saw a man with his back to her. He was cleaning his boots, like he was getting ready to go inside the house.

  “Excuse me!” Siren said, building speed. “Excuse me!”

  The man started, and turned in her direction.

  “Christ Almighty!” he said.

  He reached back, fumbling with something, before bringing it up and angling it in Siren’s face.

  “Woah!” Siren said. “I’m unarmed!”

  The man’s hands shook, his aim all over the place. His eyes were wide, and then, taking Siren in, began to relax.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “I thought you were one of them. You gave me quite a shock.”

  “I’m sorry,” Siren said. “I thought, with me talking you’d know I wasn’t one of them…”

  “Yes, yes, you’re right,” the man said. “I was just caught unawares is all.”

  “The name’s John,” the man said, wiping his hand and extending it.

  “Siren.”