Untouched. Samantha Hunter

best friend. Her only friend. She hadn’t had another pet since he died when she was fourteen, ten years after he’d skidded across the floor into her arms. She still felt the pinch of losing him around her heart.

      “I said I’m fine.”

      She stood up, putting distance between herself and Kristy, heading for the door to make it clear she wanted Kristy to leave.

      “Fine, I’ll go, but I’d like to know something first.”

      “What’s that?” Risa shoved her fingers through her hair, impatient and anxious. Something had changed in the room, something was different about Kristy, her posture, her expression, but Risa couldn’t tell exactly what it was. She didn’t like being at such a disadvantage. She could sense something about Kristy’s mental state, but it wasn’t solid—like when a word you needed was just beyond your reach.

      Kristy crossed her arms over her chest. “I’d like to know why you have a folder here with my name on it that tells you everything from what schools I attended to what men I date and what medicines are in my bathroom cabinet.”

      Risa froze. Kristy must have snooped while she was unconscious. Her mind raced for what to say, how to cover the truth, but Kristy filled in the silence between them.

      “I was looking for a doctor’s number when you passed out, a phone book or something with some information, and I found your files. I saw the hallway on your computer screen—you’re monitoring everyone in the building, aren’t you?”

      Kristy pinned Risa with a shrewd gaze. “I’m guessing you’re not agoraphobic, either. Are you law enforcement? Is there something dangerous going on here? I want to know. Do you want to tell me exactly why you’re doing all of this, and how, or do I call the police and have them ask you?”

      What the hell could she say? Kristy wouldn’t believe the truth—would she?

      Risa’s urge to connect with someone, anyone, warred with her instinct to protect herself. She also hadn’t forgotten her duty to keep top secret information secret. Her former life was as top secret as it got.

      As Kristy stood staring at her, Risa thought maybe she could tell her something—a version of the truth, if not the truth itself. She’d been watching Kristy for months—there was nothing to suggest she was untrustworthy, and Risa didn’t want the police digging around. Dr. Laslow had warned her about keeping a low profile. She had a normal life now, whatever that meant, but she still had to protect her past. Her powers might have disappeared, but all of the things she knew and witnessed hadn’t. As Kristy reached for the phone again—to dial 911, no doubt—Risa stepped forward, putting up a hand in a halting motion.

      “Please, don’t call the police. I’ll tell you what’s going on.” She tried a smile, knowing her attempt was lame. “Did you say you brought bagels?”

      AN HOUR LATER, the bagels sat cold in the center of the kitchen counter, uneaten. Risa’s appetite had faded and Kristy was listening with such rapt attention she’d forgotten to eat.

      “I can’t believe this—are you serious? You worked for the government as a psychic? You could read people’s minds?”

      “Yes, most of my life. My parents, too. And my grandfather. He approached the government in 1941, to help with the war effort. He felt it was his duty. He was already married and had my mother, who inherited the same ability, and then that was passed on to me. My father was a CIA agent, a regular guy. He met my mother back before…”

      Risa drifted off. She couldn’t tell Kristy that, after her mother and father’s romance Dr. Laslow had made sure no such contact would be made with Risa. He’d said there was too much risk involved, too much access to secrets concerning Risa’s powers. She cleared her throat and just skipped the subject altogether.

      “Since then, our family has worked for the government, secretly, of course.”

      “Well, Reagan used to consult astrologers, I heard, and he took a lot of flack for that. So I can understand why they wouldn’t want to let the media know they used professional psychics—and back to World War II even! But you don’t have any powers now?”

      Risa shook her head, relieved to be able to tell the truth on that, at least. She’d figured explaining her former abilities as psychic ones would be easier for Kristy to understand, without giving away too much. In reality, Risa wasn’t a psychic, though her abilities had paralleled what some psychics claimed to be able to do. People talked about psychics all the time; it was a useful, harmless comparison that would serve its purpose.

      Unlike psychics, who were a more paranormal phemonemon, Risa had inherited a supercharged nervous system that was physically differently than any normal human’s. She could link with anything that held an electrical charge—man, animal or machine. She didn’t operate on what she “felt” or on vague images, as psychics did.

      She couldn’t find dead bodies through dreams or pieces of clothing, though she could tell you exactly where a killer buried his victims just with a touch. Risa was hardwired to become part of what she touched. But it was best to keep her secrets, for Kristy’s own protection, as well as anything else. In spite of her lack of abilities, there were still nefarious people who might be interested in “studying” her.

      “Yes, they’re all gone, so now I’m trying to lead a normal life. But I lived on government compounds since I was born—”

      “Like an army brat?”

      “Yeah. Like that. My parents died on a mission when I was five, and I was raised by the staff we worked with. I haven’t known anything else. Ever.”

      Kristy’s eyes welled up, and she reached across the table just as Risa drew her arm out of reach of the comforting touch. “That’s just awful. You poor thing.”

      “I liked it, mostly. I helped people. What I did was important.”

      “And you’ve had these blackouts since your accident?”

      Risa nodded. “They’re supposed to go away in time. That’s what Dr. Laslow said.”

      “He’s your physician?”

      “He was the doctor who took care of me since I was born. My mother, too.”

      Kristy sat back, clearly astounded and processing the information. “I can’t imagine—you went on missions? Like a real spy?”

      “Sort of. I was never really trained as a spy. They just needed me to ask people questions, you know, to find out information.”

      It had, of course, been much more involved than that, but she’d already said more than she should, and was feeling anxious about her revelations. Risa had been trained to keep secrets, but it seemed the point of “girl talk” was to tell all, something she wasn’t free to do.

      “So, you know all kinds of top secret stuff?”

      Risa shifted uncomfortably. “Some. But you know the old line. If I told you about it, I’d have to kill you.”

      Kristy smiled at the cheesy joke, and shook her head in amazement. “I still don’t understand about the files and the video—why do you monitor everyone who lives here?”

      Risa had the grace to blush. “It just seemed like the natural thing to do—strange people, strange environment. I was at a major disadvantage. When I lost my ability to read people, to hear their thoughts, I became isolated, like I was in a vacuum. Knowing what was going on around me made me feel safer. I really didn’t mean to intrude, you know, I never watched anything…private. And I’d spent so much time living on government property, and having most things I needed at hand or taken care of, that it’s been difficult adjusting. And I had some experience with electronics, so…”

      “So wiring into all of our apartments allowed you to keep track of us so, for instance, you knew I was heading out to the store when you called me to pick up groceries for you,” Kristy deduced, frowning slightly.

      Risa