Free Broken Shadows by AJ Larrieu Page B

open.”
    “Huh.” I’d never noticed it before, but other people must’ve, because it only took five minutes for the sounds of lock-picking to start as the first of them filtered in.
    I turned my back and slid on the gloves. They were thin enough that they didn’t make handling glasses too difficult. I poured the beers and let Malik handle the cosmos and martinis. More people showed up, and the tip jar on the bar started filling with bills and coins. I was starting to feel hopeful about my chances for moving out of Jackson’s place sooner than I’d calculated.
    To my surprise, when business picked up, Simon came back and pitched in. He bussed tables, took orders and added tips to the jar as if he didn’t own the place. And he was efficient. He wove in and out of the crowd without making a wake in it, catching bottles before they hit the ground, refilling waters seamlessly, replacing guttering candles and wiping up spilled drinks. I was impressed.
    My hands were sweating in the leather gloves, but I didn’t dare take them off. The skin between my wrist and my shirt sleeve had already brushed half a dozen people. I expected to pick up little charges from those contacts, but it didn’t happen. I had to assume that grounding Paulie earlier had somehow neutralized them, but it couldn’t be for long. During a brief lull, I yanked off the gloves and splayed my palms against the metal bar, feeling how cool it was despite the close, warm air in the bunker. No static charge, no spark.
    A guy at the end of the bar snapped his fingers at me. I considered telling him he was being rude, but settled for thinking it as loudly as I could while I asked him what he wanted. He only looked more unpleasant as he ordered a gin and tonic. I gave him my best don’t-fuck-with-me glare as I delivered it and took his cash. No tip. Asshole.
    “Mina.” It was Simon, just come back from the floor with a tray of empty beer bottles floating in front of him. “Let me see you in the back?”
    Great. First week on the job and I was already in danger of losing it. “Uh, sure.”
    I followed him through the archway behind the bar and into his storeroom-slash office.
    “Look, if this is about that guy, I’m sorry. He snapped his fingers at me.”
    “What? Next time tell him to fuck off.”
    I stared.
    “I’m serious. I don’t take patrons disrespecting my staff.”
    “I’ll...remember that.”
    “Right. I only wanted to see how you’re handling this. Have your new powers been a problem at all?”
    I explained to him about meeting Paulie before my shift. “I think I’m...sort of neutralized for now. I haven’t picked up any more charges.”
    “Do you think you could? Have you given it a try?”
    I furrowed my eyebrows. “No. Why?”
    “Here.” Simon held out his hand. “See what you can do.”
    “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I’d brushed at least a dozen customers without any effects, but that didn’t mean holding hands with Simon was going to have similar results.
    “Go on. I’m not afraid of you.” He quirked his wide mouth and left his hand where it was, fingers spread, relaxed.
    “Okay...” I took his hand. It was warm and spare, a piano player’s hands. He wrapped his fingers around my palm as I grasped his, all but enclosing my hand.
    “Anything?” The focus on his gaze was intense. He might have been scanning my mind, I couldn’t tell.
    “Nothing.”
    “But you still have a bit of a charge from Paulie.”
    “You can tell?”
    He nodded. “Your head is spinning, girl.”
    “I tried to ground it, but...”
    He was right. There I could feel the residual power pulsing irregularly through my blood, each tiny surge like a miniature static shock.
    “Let me help you.”
    “I’m not sure you can.” I was just going to have to wait until it bled away.
    “Come on. You were a converter, right? You know how this works.”
    I had to laugh. “No, I don’t. No one does.” I frowned and looked at my hands.