Maggie von Spreckleson Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO
Sebastian let out a low whistle as he surveyed the girl’s apartment, which was tiny and stuffed to maximum capacity with… Sebastian couldn’t even tell. An unmade futon rested between an old tattered easy chair and the refrigerator. A shower stall and toilet were crammed next to the kitchen sink, almost as an afterthought. There was no stove, just a small counter with a hot plate haphazardly resting among dirty dishes. There were clothes strewn everywhere, mixed in with piles of books and CDs. If there was a TV or stereo they were buried under a heap of junk because Sebastian saw no evidence of their existence. The only other furniture in the room was a small side table and a child size chest of drawers.

“My, my, this girl is an utter pig.” He nudged an over flowing ashtray that was resting on the floor next to the futon with his foot. A wine glass was laying helplessly on its side, dried wine pooling in its bowl like cracked, dead earth.

Dillon shrugged as he picked up a stack of mail that was flung on the chair and began flipping through them.

“It looks like she doesn’t get any personal mail at all. This is just all junk mail and circulars. I don’t see a single envelope for a credit card, bank statement or any other identifying mail.”

“Most people do their bills online these days. However, I highly doubt this girl even knows how to turn a computer on, much less own one.” Sebastian leaned over the sink and wrinkled his nose as the pile of dirty dishes. “Can you get a read on her from the apartment, other than she’s filthy?”

“I can try.” Dillon replied absently. He stood in the middle of the room and closed his eyes, arms hanging loosely at his sides. Sebastian stopped his pacing and relaxed, calming his own mind so his partner could ‘read’ the apartment with no interruptions. Sebastian wasn’t exactly sure how Dillon accomplished this and he didn’t care so long as he got the job done. Dillon tried to explain it to him once. Something to do with an emotional finger print people walked around with. If that person spent enough time in a particular area that ‘fingerprint’ would eventually rub off and Dillon was able to see it and, if he wanted, manipulate it. Though Dillon was young, he was good at what he did. The downside to his ability was it weakened him physically. Already painfully skinny and pale to begin with, Dillon’s skin had turned an almost deathly white; sweat broke out on his forehead and he swayed. Sebastian didn’t budge except for the tightening of his jaw muscle, almost imperceptible. He knew Dillon well enough to know when he needed his help and now was not the time.

“Her name is Maggie von Spreckleson. I can’t find anything about her father so she must not think about him much. Mother died 13 years ago. I can’t get a name for the mother.” Dillon swayed on his feet but Sebastian just shrugged and watched. This was old news; Alexander had already apprised them of her past. “Works at the record store on fifth, part time. Mara’s Music.” Dillon suddenly opened his eyes and lurched forward, clutching the back of a dirty old chair for support and shivered. “Most of her thoughts are just too… blocked, hazy. Protected, I guess. Somehow.” He took a deep breath, his brow furrowed in thought. “Weird. I didn’t know people could do that.”

“So this little girl doesn’t have that emotional fingerprint?” Sebastian peered around the room again, noticing that there were no pictures of family or friends. No decorations at all, in fact. Just empty walls, the paint peeling from years of layers building up.

“Not exactly like that.” Dillon limped slightly as he headed for the front door. “I just can’t explain it. See, some people can block mind readers from reading their minds but people can’t, or shouldn’t, be able to hide the residue of emotion from me. You can block someone from reading your thoughts by, say, thinking another thought that they could pick up on. Emotions are only easy for people to hide physically. Not psychically. Each thought leaves a sort of energy code.” Dillon spread his hands open in apology, long narrow fingers still shaking slightly from his effort. “Her energy codes are muddled up. I can’t sort them out. They are just kind of like a pile of… grey. Without those codes and fingerprints, I can’t get a good read on what’s going on inside her head.”

“Could it be her telekinesis?” Sebastian pulled open the door and bowed facetiously to Dillon, who ignored the gesture but couldn’t resist giving the older, stronger man a mild shove as he walked by. Sebastian didn’t even budge; just rolled his eyes. “Maybe something more?”

Dillon shook his head. “No, her telekinesis shouldn’t make it a problem. She’s still human… just with an extra added bonus. It shouldn’t make it more difficult for me to get a handle on her. It’s not like reading a vampire, which I hear in impossible, or even a werewolf or Shapeshifter,” Dillon slanted his dark brown eyes in Sebastian’s direction and grinned, “ because they are a different species. Not human.”

“I’m insulted.” Sebastian rolled his eyes again and pulled the door shut with a thud as he followed Dillon down the stairs. “So, it’s just another mystery to add to our mystery girl, is that it?”

“Pretty much. Where to now? We’ve got to find her before the others do.”

Sebastian pulled a set of keys from his pocket; a car horn beeped obediently in the distance and they headed toward it. “She’s been a drifter her whole life but she’s lived here for awhile. She’s attached. She’s established territory. She won’t up and run permanently without a fight. Go to the record store.”