Free Closed Hearts by Susan Kaye Quinn

my eyes. An older jacker, mid-twenties, stood to Julian’s side, calm but ready. I vaguely recognized him from the mages’ lair. His hair looked like he cut it himself in the mirror, and his jeans were not quite ragged enough for holes. His stringy fingers tapped a rhythm on his folded arms, but his face was impassive, as if he was awaiting Julian’s orders to either strangle me or escort me out the door, and he didn’t much care which one it was.
    Julian’s lips pressed into a straight line. I gripped the upholstered chair and struggled to my feet. Raf had slid from his seat and lay like a doll slumped on the ground. I quickly linked into his mind, but he was only passed out. I held still, in case any sudden moves would bring Myrtle down on my head again.
    “Hinckley,” Julian said. “Could you take care of the keeper’s friend?”
    My back stiffened as Hinckley strode over to Raf, but he simply hooked his thin but muscular arms under Raf’s and hoisted him back into the chair. He propped Raf so he wouldn’t fall out again, even as his head lolled.
    “She has a phone,” Myrtle said. “Said her father was coming to get her.” My heart climbed up in my throat.
    “You called your father to come get you?” Julian’s voice was incredulous, as if that was the stupidest thing I could possibly have done. At the moment, I was thinking he was right. My dad would be walking into a trap.
    Julian curled a fist and eyed the door. “Well, that will only make this mess even bigger. I suppose that means we can’t stay here.” He pressed his fist into the wing of Raf’s chair. “I might need your assistance, Myrtle.”
    “I should say so.”
    Raf jumped up from the chair, startling me so badly I nearly fell back into mine. But he wasn’t awake at all. The overwhelming presence of Myrtle filled his mind. Hinckley jogged to the door to open it before Myrtle puppet-walked Raf through. I hurried close behind Raf, resisting the urge to grab his hand. Julian and Hinckley followed so close I could hear Julian breathing through his teeth.
    More jackers filled the street since we’d gone inside. Gathered in bunches on the steps of their brownstones, they looked like the jacker gangs in the camp, minus the arm bands. Both of Hinckley’s hands fluttered, playing an invisible piano in the air and turning away the stares of the street as his gaze swept forward and back. How could he control so many jackers at once? A long time ago, I had managed to knock out an entire warehouse of jackers, one after another, but that was only because I caught them off guard. Controlling a host of readers at once was reasonable for any jacker, but turning the heads of this many hyper-alert jackers?
    Even people forward of Hinckley’s head-turning trick retreated up their steps and inside as we neared. Julian walked with his chin up, not obviously controlling anyone. Were they fleeing before Hinckley could reach them? Or was it Julian’s presence that made them retreat to the safety of their houses?
    We moved as a pack past an alleyway, as well as another shop papered with jacker faces stamped “MISSING.” After rounding the corner, it became clear we were going back to the mages’ headquarters. I couldn’t think of anything else to do but go with them. Raf and I wouldn’t last on the streets, and I couldn’t take any risks with Myrtle. She was so strong, she might accidentally kill Raf without even thinking about it.
    We passed the street where we had left Norma and her gang, but there was no sign of them. It was nearly dark, the bluish plasma of the streetlights replacing the reddish glow of the sunset. When we reached the crumbling brick entrance of the mages’ headquarters, a dark-skinned boy a couple of years older than Julian knelt in the doorway, welding a metal patch to the frame. His mini laser welder threw sparks on the sidewalk and singed the air with a sharp smell. Shiny black goggles cupped his eyes.
    “Sasha.” Julian