From Killers, the Bax mysteries. A YA series.
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Piper's face runs a gamut of expressions because right there on my couch, I relay my epic saga first comes sympathy. As I give the 32nd summary of the disintegration of my family dynamic. Next is wry amusement with a hint of disgust when I rehash the dumbest night of my life, which thanks to a charitable judge got me an eight month stay at ale. It turns to hope when I recap the sheer awesomeness of my 18th birthday which ended with me having a nice chunk of change, a town home and a job. I ease into the spooky stuff by telling her about Trina and the first flash I had when I touched her bracelet, I make the executive decision to save the worst for last and jump directly to the part where I found Piper's necklace. She's dubious at first. But when I explain in minute detail, the memories I absorbed from the locket from her and Jackson's off key chain smoker rendition to the overpowering smell of disinfectant in Jackson's hospital room. She finally looks away hurt, pouring off her in waves. I don't blame her for her reaction. I mean, how would I feel if my most emotional memories suddenly found their way into someone else's head. I'm sorry. I whisper, staring at the blank spot across the room where the wall meets the ceiling. These are your memories. I have no right to them. I hear her edge toward me. Feel her touch my hand. I turned my head to face her. Relieved to see her pained expression is melted away. It's not your fault. She says with the gentleness that surprises me. Her eyes are full of compassion before her gaze drops to the locket around her neck. You didn't ask for this ability? I not a skeptical eyebrow. You believe me then yes, a two ton weight lifts from my shoulders. This confession could have gone wrong in so many ways that she would accept the notion that supernatural powers are not just stuff of comic books from a guy she's known all of two weeks is nothing short of a miracle. I'm glad, surprised, but glad she gives a half shrug. I study cultures. Remember every civilization from the Mayans to the ancient Egyptians to the Celts have legends that speak of unique individuals with abilities that go beyond what people consider normal. Most historians dismiss these stories as products of superstitious minds to explain things they couldn't understand. I've always wondered was all of it just fiction. What you can do proves that E S P exists. She breaks into a wide smile and that is so cool. I can't share in her enthusiasm as much as I want to. It'd be a lot cooler if I knew what it was called and why I have it in the first place. You have no idea where this came from. None at all. Believe me. I've thought nonstop about why my life has turned into an episode of the X files. There's no reason my brain should work this way. I've never had a concussion. I've never had surgery. The only thing I've ever done to my brain is kill a few cells with too much beer. Her brow scrunches. Could you have possibly inherited it? My eyes narrow when recovering from my first flash with Sarah's clothes. I considered this possibility but rejected it. If any member of my family had E S P, I would have known. Right. Right. Yeah. Maybe not between long bouts of moodiness and self absorption. My mom could have been a satanist, sacrificing small animals in our backyard and I wouldn't have noticed. It's possible. I finally reply. She points at my computer lying closed on my coffee table. Can I borrow your laptop? Go ahead. Piper pulls the thing onto her lap, powers it up and runs a quick Google search. 30 seconds later, she turns the screen to face me. Here you go. What you can do is called psychometry. I roll the unfamiliar word over my tongue then read what's on the screen. Psychometry. The psychic ability to read the history of an object by touching it, such impressions may be perceived in the form of images, sounds, smells and even emotions. I lean back against the cushions. Nodding. Yeah, that's it. All right. One minor mystery solved. Many, many more to go.