Kismet gawked around at the immense foyer. The grand staircase spiraled up and around the crystal chandelier. Hardwood floors were slick under her bare feet. They glimmered and shone with a fresh coat of wax. The regal, pre-war construction was a far cry from the industrial brick buildings of the inner city.

She followed Alistair into the parlor on the left. It was now split in two rooms, a lobby and another room, closed off from the public. A wooden desk stretched across the back wall with a woman dressed all in black seated behind it.

A Watcher… I’ve never seen one in real life before.

Kismet stiffened. Her heart pattered under her ribs. Ribbons of colour rippled around the room and soft lavender wisps encircled the woman. Kismet closed her eyes.

Now is not the time. Not in front of a Watcher. What if my powers get out of control and she has me arrested or something?

The Watcher’s nose was buried in a fashion magazine. Short curly black hair was done in medium length twists. Little wire-rimmed glasses slid to the edge of her nose. She looked up with a bright smile when she heard them enter.

She doesn’t look so scary.

“You ok?” Alistair asked.

“Uh, um yeah. I’m fine.”

The hive of voices nibbled the base of her skull. She put every ounce of focus into shoving them down.

Not now. Not now.

She fingered the headphones around her neck and instinctually checked her CD player was still firmly clipped to her hip.

Alistair frowned, but didn’t question Kismet further and guided her to the desk. The arches were carved in intricate vines and leaves. Elegant wallpaper decorated the vaulted walls in pale white and blue flowers. A fireplace was centered on the left wall room adorned with lit candelabras. She trailed behind Alistair. The ornamental red floral rug was soft under her feet.

I hope I’m not getting it dirty.

“Hey Kate,” said Alistair, leaning against the desk. The way he moved was so fluid, he seemed to drape himself across everything. “I know it’s late, but you wouldn’t happen to have room for one more?”

“Hmm, let me see...” Watcher Kate turned to a thick binder open in front of her, flipping through pages. She looked up at Kismet. “Room five is available?”

…it’s not the best, more like an attic…

“Sorry, it’s all we have at the last minute.”

“That’s more than fine,” said Kismet. “Thank you so, so much.”

Kate passed her a key from a collection displayed on the corkboard behind her. She slipped it into her pocket.

“It’s on the top floor,” Kate explained. “It’s the only room on that level, so you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you, you’ve both been so kind,” said Kismet.

“I’m turning in for the night, but if you need anything, I’m staying right in here,” said Kate, gesturing to the room behind the desk. “Regardless, you’re in good hands with Alice.”

Watcher Kate dismissed herself, disappearing into the backroom, the binder tucked under her arm.

“I’ll show you around if you like?” Alistair offered. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Oh, no, but that’s ok,” said Kismet, fiddling with the cuffs of her sweater.

“Let me show you where the kitchen is at least,” he insisted.

“Ok, if you're sure,” she said.

Everything seemed to be in a glaze, like a clear fog covered her line of vision. It was difficult to process she was still in the same city she had been born and raised in. The environment in itself wasn’t so unusual, but it was as though she’d slipped into another realm. Everything looked the same, yet she had no idea what the rules were supposed to be anymore. So, she figured it was a safe bet to continue following Alistair.

I’m just happy he’s willing to help me, but I wonder why?

Alistair led her into the hall, past the length of the staircase. They entered the back hall, then he pushed through thick double doors. The kitchen cabinets were stained a deep brown to compliment the stone floor and lush green wall paper. A wooden table took up most of the center, draped in a table cloth decorated in apple print.

Kismet looked up at him with large, hopeful eyes. “I can cook in here?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “It’s too bad there’s not someone here to do it. I can’t cook for shit.”

“Do you want me to make you something?” she asked. For the first time in ages, excitement flared within her. The knot of dread sat in the pit of her stomach eased if only a little.

… It’s been a bit since I’ve had a nice meal… but I don’t want to inconvenience her…

“No, that’s alright,” he said.

“If I’m making something for myself anyway, I may as well share.”

“Well, if you put it like that,” he grinned and plopped into one of the chairs. His long legs stretched out underneath.

Kismet investigated the cupboards to see what she was working with. Everything from spices and herbs to pasta, rice and vegetables was fully stocked. Even the fridge brimmed with food and condiments.

“Are you sure all this is free?” she asked, looking at him over her shoulder. “What am I allowed to use?”

“Anything you want,” he said. “Help yourself.”

I can’t believe this.

As much as she wanted to explore and experiment, she decided to keep things simple and set about making club sandwiches.

“Is there a reason you don’t wear shoes?” Alistair asked.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Huh?” She flushed. “Oh. Not really.”

“Would you like some? I think Jack is staying here with Caroline, and she might be a similar size to you. He uses these sort of pocket dimensions, so they travel with everything. I bet she won’t miss a pair.”

Kismet’s cheeks reddened and she fixated on slicing the tomatoes. “I’m fine. You’ve already been more than helpful.”

“It’s no trouble, really,” he said, getting up from the table. “I think they’re up in their room. They owe me one anyways. I’ll be right back.”

“No, please -”

It was too late and he had already slipped out the door. Her cheeks burned, unshed tears stinging the rims of her eyes.

I haven’t been here an hour and I’m already a burden. What must they think of me? Maybe this was all a bad idea.

By the time Alistair returned with a pair of sneakers, the sandwiches were plated at the table. He sat down across from her and passed over the shoes. They were white with a ring of glitter around the sides.

Kismet tugged them on. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“It’s the right thing to do for one,” said Alistair, taking a bite of the sandwich. “Second, it’s dangerous for us to just wander willy-nilly, especially if you’re unfamiliar with how things work around here.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. The amber aura surrounding him cinched a bit closer to his body. “These hostels aren’t the only place for wandering mutants to end up, and I wouldn’t want you to find yourself in the wrong hands.”

“What do you mean?” she frowned. “I thought Ivy controlled all things mutant related on the mainland?”

“Yes, but not everyone is a big fan of the situation, I’ll say.”

… Jack and Caroline … they better steer clear of her… She doesn’t look like she needs their brand of trouble…

“What are your powers, anyway?” Alistair asked.

“Huh,” Kismet blinked. “Oh, um -”

Do I tell him the truth?

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, “ said Alistair. “You don’t have to tell me. It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m a telepath.” The words rushed from her and she studied the crust on her sandwich, the flowers in the vase, the clock on the wall, anything. Tension squeezed her chest.

I don’t think I’ve ever said it like that before.

“That’s super cool!” Alistair exclaimed. He scrunched his eyes closed. “Ok, I picked a number from one and ten, what am I thinking?”

A mixture of tension and relief stirred within her, unsure how to react, she stumbled over her words. “I don’t do it on purpose.”

Alistair opened his eyes again. “Oh. Why not?”

“It’s not polite,” she said, twisting the tattered ends of her sleeves. “Also, I don’t know how. Not really. I can choose to if I want, it’s trying not to that’s the hard part actually. If I were to have answered your question, I may have come back with a lot more information than you initially wanted me to go in for. That’s not fair.”

“So you’re going to The Academy then? Why wait so long?” he asked.

“No, ideally, I’m going to Portsmouth Island. Ivy kinda freaks me out to be honest.” She flushed deeper. “I don’t mean any disrespect, it’s just I’ve heard some scary things, you know?”

“Honestly, I don’t blame you. I didn’t go to The Academy either,” he said. “A lot of kids from the island choose not to. Watcher Kate out there was the only one from my grade that went, let alone become a Watcher.”

“Is it true? What they say about Ivy?” Kismet leaned forward, her tone hushed. “Does she really suck out people’s life?”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” said Alistair, chewing his sandwich. The gold light around him flared and flickered like a candle flame.

“Really?” Kismet gasped.

“Uh huh,” he nodded, swallowing the last of his bite. “Once, when I was about ten, Ivy tracked Bill to the island. I guess he’d been running fight clubs here in the city and she found out.”

“And that got him the death sentence?”

“She doesn’t mess around about matters of reputation. If humans were to see us as a threat, I mean, a real genuine one, it might instigate another war. The tension is high enough as it is, I don’t think Ivy likes anything rocking the boat.”

“So, what happened? You must have been so scared,” she said. Even now she could see the burgundy sludge of fear slick through his golden aura as the memory pushed to the surface. “We don’t need to talk about it, if it upsets you.”

“No, no,” he said. “It’s fine. My best buddy Angel and I were told to stay in my room, keep away from the windows. We didn’t listen and peeked through the curtains anyway. She looked like a ghost. Her skin, even her hair, had taken on this sort of transparent glass-like quality. Even her movements were more like a glide.”

Alistair shuddered at the memory.

Despite her best efforts, the kitchen faded off to be replaced by a small blue bedroom. The floor cluttered with open comics, and action figures. The fear became visceral within Kismet’s body as she watched the pale woman drift down a dirt road past brightly painted cabins. Ivy’s black cloak trailed behind her as her long white hair, now shimmering a clear quartz wafted like the tail of a comet. Something cold, harsh and natural yet from another place entirely. A crowd had gathered on the lawn at the house across the street. Kismet couldn’t make out any words, but there was a lot of frightened shouting. A woman levitated rocks. In response, Ivy pulled a blue thread of light from the woman’s mouth. She collapsed. A man yelled.

The other child beside her, a scrawny boy with tousled black hair and ice blue eyes stared at the scene, rigid with terror.

“Dad -” the boy squeaked, indicating the yelling man.

Alistair took his hand and dragged him to the floor so they couldn’t see anymore.

Kismet blinked, the kitchen wobbling back into focus.

“... my sisters rushed in, a blanket over their shoulders for us all to hide under,” said Alistair. “We huddled together in a little heap until Mom and Dad came to get us. It felt like hours – Hey, are you alright? Sorry if the story is upsetting you -”

“It’s not that,” she said, guilt burning a hole in her gut. “I slipped - I saw - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Kismet braced herself, uncertain what to expect.

Will he shout? Hit me? Leave?

“That must be really hard for you,” he said. “I shouldn’t have told you such an emotional story. I wasn’t thinking it could trigger your abilities like that.”

“I need to control them better. I gotta get a handle on it. I’m so sorry to invade -”

“It’s fine, really,” he said. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, still processing his reaction.

It’s almost more startling than a slap in the face.

“I’m exhausted,” he said, yawning as if to prove a point. “Would you like me to walk you to your room before I go to bed?”

“You really don’t have to.” Kismet looked down, watching her hands twist and scrunch her sleeves in her lap. “You’ve already been far too kind. I’ll give the shoes back as soon as I -”

“Forget it,” Alistair laughed. “Caroline seriously won’t miss them. Trust me, she doesn’t give up anything she’s not willing to part with. They’re yours.”

Kismet stood up, her feet feeling relieved to be covered. They didn’t quite fit, and she had to scrunch up her toes to keep from slipping around.

Alistair got out of the chair and stretched, exaggerated and cat-like. He led her into the hall and up the stairs. The gloss on the railing was smooth under her hand as they ascended. They made it to the second floor and crept past the other rooms. Shreds of dreams wafted through the air, wandering through Kismet’s mind and she pushed them away.

They came to the back hall and another set of narrow stairs leading toward the top of the turret.

“Looks like you’re getting the princess treatment,” Alistair teased. “They’re putting ya all the way up in the tower.”

Kismet smiled, flushing and looked at the rug on the floor.

“It was nice to meet you,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you around on the island?”

“Yeah, maybe,” she said. A pang settled in her chest, not wanting him to leave. “Thank you again.”

Then I’ll be all alone again. I hardly know this guy. I’ve already taken up more than enough of his time.

He waved good-night and went his own way, leaving her at the foot of the stairs. The events of the night pressed on the edge of her mind, fighting for space with the constant static threatening to rise up. She trudged up the steep stairs to a solitary door and unlocked it.

The iron-framed bed took up the majority of the cramped room. A circular window let in the lights of the city and she had a view of the harbour. Kismet stripped off her clothing, leaving them in a neat pile on the top of the dresser. She crawled into bed with her CD player in her arms, pulling the starchy sheets up to her chin. Even with headphones over her ears and music full blast, low murmurs and scraps of dreams fluttered behind her eyes. Still, she managed to slip into some semblance of sleep.