Untouched The Girl in the Box - By Robert J. Crane Page 0,27

smile. “I heard, but it’d be indelicate of me to bring it up first. Still, I guess that makes you unique.”

“I’d settle for less unique. It’s probably less painful.”

“But you don’t get to choose, do you?” He leaned forward in his chair. “You’re a succubus, the first of your kind of meta that the Directorate has seen. Top of the power scale when it comes to your strength and speed, and you’ve been granted a different power than someone who could, say, affect the temperature in the room or breathe life into the dead or put someone to sleep with a song.”

“Different.” I squirmed on the couch, feeling a sudden desire to burrow into it, away from this conversation. “That’s one way to put it.”

“How would you put it?” The way he asked it was so smooth, so empathetic, that it touched a nerve in me and I didn’t try to dodge, I just answered.

“I would say...” I took a deep breath. “That I’ve been disconnected from people my whole life. First, because I was locked in a house with my mother, and now because I can’t touch anybody without killing them. That I’m doomed to go through life untouched, like a porcelain figurine set up on a high shelf, so fragile it might break if anyone were to take it out.” I tasted bitterness in my mouth. “Except I’m not the one that’s fragile. Everyone else is.”

He stared at me and then nodded, real slow. “I can see how you’d feel that way.” He paused, as though steeling himself. “Can I ask about your mother?”

“She’s missing.”

“That’s not what I was gonna ask.” He didn’t look away, even though I did. “If this is too deep for the first time we’ve talked, go ahead and stop me, okay? But I’ve heard rumors, and I’m wondering if they’re true. Did your mother beat you? Lock you in metal coffin?”

“Yes,” I said in a muted whisper, “that is too deep.”

“Okay.” He nodded, picking up a notebook and a pen. “How about this? Let’s go back to what you want to talk about.”

“Um. All right.” I thought about it. “Do you have to report everything I say to Ariadne and Old Man Winter?”

He smiled, but it was overly cool. “Professionally, that would be unethical. You and I are stepping into the territory of doctor and patient, which means that there’s confidentiality that extends to whatever we discuss in the course of that relationship. So, no—I’m not reporting to the higher-ups on what we talk about here, unless what we talk about here crosses the line—”

“Into something dangerous?” I asked, an odd sense of numbness falling upon me. “Into something threatening?”

“Exactly. Ariadne and Mr. Winter want to make sure that you’re mentally healthy.” His eyes were focused on me, but not in the uncomfortable way that Old Man Winter did. They were warm, and knowing, and that was why I couldn’t meet them. “I don’t think I’m revealing any big secrets when I say they have high hopes for you. The Directorate may be one of the only places you can safely exercise your powers in the world, that could give you a path, and some meaning if you wanted it.”

“They want me to join M-Squad.” I said it while looking at the laces of my shoes, studying a little piece of snow that had caught on the edge of the rubber sole and hadn’t quite melted yet.

“They see a path there for you.” He looked down at the notebook. “They see a natural fit with what your mother used to do in the old days for the Agency. From what I’ve heard, you have a certain fearless quality and tenacity that would serve you well in a variety of walks of life.”

My mouth felt dry. “What if I don’t know what walk of life I want to tread?”

He paused before answering. “Then I’d say you’re probably an eighteen-year-old.”

“I’m seventeen.”

He laughed, a low, quiet one that actually brought a smile to my face. “From what I’ve heard, you have a lot of confidence—a lot of brass, I’d say—in standing up to adults who seem like authority figures. Not mouthy, pointless defiance. Rebellion is a natural teenage quality, but most teens are not gonna confront a guy like Erich Winter about much of anything.”

He put down his pen and notebook on the table at his side and looked back at me. “You’ve got confidence in some areas that most others your age don’t. But here’s