Stolen

EXHIBITION

As I walked toward Bauer, I passed a chair facing my cell, presumably where Tess had been taking notes. When I glanced at the chair, it started to shake. I'd like to think it was scared of me, but I rarely invoked that response in living things, let alone inanimate objects.

"Earthquake zone?" I asked.

"Shhh!" Matasumi said, holding up his hand.

Matasumi crouched beside the chair and studied it. The chair rocked from one diagonal to the other, back and forth, faster, then slowing, then regaining speed, tilting almost to the point of tipping, then reversing.

Matasumi motioned me forward. When I didn't move fast enough, he waved impatiently. I stepped toward the chair. It kept rocking. Matasumi thrust his palm at me, telling me to move away. I did. No change. He crooked his finger to motion me back, eyes never leaving the chair. I walked beside it. The chair kept rocking, speed unaffected. Then it stopped. Bauer flashed me a wide, almost proud smile.

"What did you think of that?" she asked.

"I'm really hoping it doesn't mean this place is built on a fault line."

"Oh, no. We chose the environment very carefully. You didn't feel a tremor, did [43] y ou?"

I shook my head.

"You'll see that sort of thing quite often down here," she said. "Don't be alarmed if you wake up in the morning to find your magazines in the shower stall or your dining table upside down."

"What's causing it?"

She smiled. "You are."

"Ms. Bauer means all of you," Matasumi said. "Our subjects. I doubt you personally would have much impact. Werewolves are known for physical, not mental powers. These events began several weeks ago, as our collection of subjects grew. My hypothesis is that they result from the high concentration of diverse physic energy. Random spurts of energy causing equally random events."

"So it just happens? No one's doing it?"

"There's no discernible pattern or meaning to the events. They're also quite harmless. No one has been injured. We're monitoring it closely, as there is always the possibility the energy could build to dangerous levels, but at this point, we can safely say you have no reason for concern."

"If objects start flying, duck," Bauer said. "Now, let's resume the tour before we have any further interruptions." She motioned to the ceiling. "We're underground. The outer walls are several feet of reinforced concrete. Perhaps not impossible to break through-if you had a wrecking ball, plus a bulldozer to dig your way out. The second floor is also subterranean, so this level is more than fifty feet down. The ceiling is solid steel, as is the floor. The one-way glass is a special experimental design. It will resist-how many tons of pressure, Lawrence?"

"I don't know the precise specifications."

"Let's just say 'a lot,' then," Bauer said. "The doors at either end are reinforced steel, at least as strong as the glass. The security system requires both hand and retinal scans. As you've already discovered, the walls between the cells are not quite so impenetrable. Still, there's not much to be gained by knocking peepholes into the next cell since, as you can see, it's currently unoccupied."

She gestured at the adjoining cell. It was empty, as was the one across from mine.

"Our next guest might be familiar," Bauer said, leading me farther and motioning left.

The man was watching television. Average height, trim and fit, dirty blond hair made several shades dirtier by a lengthy interval between showers, whisker shadow growing into a full-scale beard. Familiar? Only vaguely. By Bauer's introduction, I guessed he was a mutt, but I couldn't be sure without smelling him. Of the few dozen mutts in North America, I'd recognize about half by sight alone. For the others, I needed a scent to jog my memory.

"Werewolf?" I asked.

"You don't know him?"

"Should I?"

"I thought you might. He knows you quite well. By reputation, I suppose. Do you have any contact with the werewolves outside your Pack?"

"As little as possible."

It was true. We didn't go out of our way to associate with mutts. Unfortunately, that didn't mean we lacked contact with them. I'd probably had a run-in with this one before, but I'd had so many run-ins with so many mutts that I could scarcely separate one from the next.

Bauer moved on. Matasumi was right behind us now. Tess had resumed her note-taking, jotting down my every word. I'd have to start being more eloquent. If they were recording me for posterity, I wanted to sound at least moderately intelligent. "Clever" would be good, but a stretch.

"Next on the right we have a Voodoo priest."

"'Voodoo' is the common name," Matasumi said. "The correct terminology is 'Vodoun.'"

Bauer waved off the distinction, then tilted her hand like a [44] spokes-model toward the cell on the right. I knew I'd have nightmares about this, dreaming that I was sitting in my cage scratching my butt while Vanna White here conducted tours of the [45] ward-" And on the left we have a rare example of the female Canis lupis homo sapiens, common name 'werewolf.'"

The man in the cage had dark skin, short dreadlocks, and a close-cropped beard. He glared at the one-way glass as if he could see through it, but his eyes were focused a few feet left of our group. His lips parted and he muttered something. I couldn't make out the language, but I recognized the raspy voice as that of the man who'd been shouting earlier.

"He's cursing us," Bauer said.

Matasumi made an odd chortling sound. Tess stifled a giggle. Bauer did one of her eye-rolls, and they all laughed.

"Voodoo priests have only the most negligible powers," Bauer said. "They're a minor race. Are you familiar with that term?"

I shook my head.

Matasumi took over. "We have the good fortune to have someone on staff who was able to supply us with the details of classification. Major and minor refer to the degree of power a race possesses. Major races include witches, half-demons, shamans, sorcerers, necromancers, vampires, and werewolves. These groups are relatively small. Minor races are much larger. In fact, it would be a misnomer to even call them 'races' because they often have no blood ties. Typically, they are normal people who display a certain aptitude and may have been trained to hone these talents. These minor races include Vodoun priests, druids, psychics, and many others. To a layperson these people may appear to have great power, but in comparison to a witch or a werewolf-"

"There is no comparison," Bauer cut in. "Not for our purposes. This 'priest' has no skills that the weakest witch or shaman couldn't top. Our first and last foray into the world of the minor races."

"So for now you're keeping him here…?" I prompted.

"Until we need the cell," Bauer said.

Guess it would be too much to hope that they'd release subjects who proved unworthy.

"Trial and error," Bauer continued. "More often than not, we've made excellent choices. For example, take a look at the guest in the room next door."

The next prisoner was another man, this one in his late thirties, small, with a compact build, light brown skin, and finely drawn features. He lifted his gaze from a magazine, stretched his legs, then resumed reading. As he'd looked up, I amended my age estimate to mid-forties, maybe closing in on fifty.

"Can you guess what he is?" Bauer asked.

"No idea."

"Damn. I hoped you could tell us."

Matasumi forced a pained smile. Tess gave an obligatory laugh. Obviously an old joke.

"You don't know what he is?" I asked.

"No idea," Bauer said. "When we picked him up, we thought he was a half-demon, but his physiology is all wrong. Like most of the major races, half-demons have common physical traits, as we've learned in examining the three specimens we've acquired so far. Armen doesn't share any of them. His anatomical quirks are all his own. His powers aren't half-demon, either."

"What can he do?"

"He's a human chameleon." She waved off Matasumi's protests. "Yes, yes, Doctor Matasumi will tell you that's not an accurate description, but I like it. Much more catchy than 'unknown species with minor facial contortion [46] abilities.'"She winked at me, again as if sharing a private joke. "Marketing is everything."

"Minor facial contortion abilities?" I repeated.

"Mr. Haig can willfully alter his facial structure," Matasumi said. "Minor changes only. He cannot, for example, turn himself into you or me, but he could change his face enough so he would no longer resemble his passport photo."

"Uh-huh."

"It doesn't sound very useful for everyday life, but it is incredibly significant in the larger scheme of things. This particular power is completely undocumented in the annals of parapsychology. I'm postulating a new evolutionary shift."

He smiled then, the first smile I'd seen from him. It shaved decades from his face, lighting his eyes with childlike excitement. He watched me and waited, lips twitching as if he could barely contain the urge to continue.

"Evolutionary shift?" I echoed.

"My hypothesis is that all supernatural races-the true races, the major races-are the result of evolutionary anomalies. For example, with the werewolves, somewhere in the very distant past one man somehow developed the ability to change into a wolf. A complete quirk of nature. Yet a quirk that improved his ability to survive and therefore was reflected in his DNA, which he passed to his sons. The minor powers of a werewolf-longevity, strength, sensory enhancement-may have been part of this initial change or may have evolved later, to make werewolves better suited for the lives they lead. Similar anomalies would explain the beginnings of all the major races."

"Except half-demons," Bauer said.

"That goes without saying. Half-demons are a reproductive hybrid. They rarely transmit their powers to their offspring. Now, back to Mr. Haig. If my theory is correct, these random evolutionary changes must happen with some frequency-not commonly, but more often than would explain the few existing major races. Perhaps some of these deviations are so recent that there aren't yet enough members to classify as a race. If that is true, then Mr. Haig may be the forefather of a new species. Over generations, his power could develop exponentially. Where Mr. Haig may only be able to fool a traffic officer, his great-great-grandson may be able to alter his physical structure enough to become the officer."

"Uh-huh."

Matasumi turned around and gestured to the last pair of cells across the hall. "Here are two more interesting specimens. Look to your left first, please."

In the cell beside the mutt, a woman lay on the bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. She was roughly my age, maybe five-six, 120 pounds. Dark red hair, green eyes, and enviably clear skin that looked like it had never sprouted a blemish. She radiated vibes of sturdy good health, the sort of woman I could imagine cheerfully manning some National Park outpost.

"Witch?" I asked.

"Half-demon," Bauer said.

So half-demons could be female? No one had said otherwise, but I'd assumed they were all male, maybe because the only two I'd ever met were men or maybe because when I thought "demon" I thought "male."

"What's her power?" I asked.

"Telekinesis," Bauer said. "She can move things with her mind. Leah is the daughter of an Agito demon. Are you familiar with demonology?"

"Uh-no. The shortcomings of a modern education."

Bauer smiled. "Not much call for it these days, but it's a fascinating subject. There are two types of demons: eudemons and cacodemons. Eudemons good, cacodemons bad."

"Good demons?"

"Surprising, isn't it? Quite a common religious belief, actually. Only in Christian mythology do you find demons so thoroughly… demonized. In truth, both kinds exist, though only the cacodemons procreate. Within each of the two types there's a hierarchy based on the demon's relative degree of power. An Agito is quite high on the scale."

"So I guess telekinesis is more than a parlor trick, then."

"Much more," Matasumi said. "The implications and applications of such a power are infinite."

"What can she do?"

"She can move things with her mind," Matasumi said, parroting Bauer's earlier description.

In other words, they had no idea what the "implications and applications" were either. Sure, telekinesis sounded fine, but what could you really do with it? Besides grab the salt from the counter without leaving the dinner table.

"Are there many female half-demons?" I asked.

"Males are more common, but females aren't unknown," Matasumi said. "We actually selected Leah for her gender. We've had some difficulties with our male subjects, so I thought females might be easier to manage. More passive."

"Watch it," Bauer said. "You're surrounded by women here, Lawrence. Yes, women seem to make better subjects, but it has nothing to do with passivity. Women are better able to assess the situation and see the futility of resisting. Men seem to feel an obligation to fight back, no matter what the odds. Take our Voodoo priest. Rants and curses all day, every day. Does it help? No. But he keeps doing it. How does Leah react to the same situation? She stays calm and she cooperates." She turned to me. "Have you ever seen telekinesis?"

"Uh, no," I said. "I don't think so."

She smiled. "Time for a performance, then."