Zeklos smiled at his goofy partner. “No, but things attached to the person who owned the item. It’s called psychometry and has been used by my people, the Romani, for ages. ‘Cross my palm with silver’ they’d say before giving a reading. It was less about payment than it was for getting an early read on the person looking for guidance. I don’t know who owned this coin, but I can safely say they were not a nice person.” He had his suspicions, but telling Reyes that he thought it had belonged to either Vlad III or one of his cronies would only open up a discussion that would never end.
“You said this happens when you touch people, too?” Reyes gave him an inquisitive look.
Shrugging, he tried to brush it off. “Sometimes, but very rarely. I’m more likely to get a reading off an object. But it has happened.”
“It happened the first time you ever touched me, didn’t it?”
He could see the realization in Reyes’ eyes. Zayne was right, too. They’d been partners for only a very short time back then, but Reyes had slipped and, unthinking, Zek had reached out to help him up. “Yes, it did.”
“What did you see?” A line formed between Reyes’ two dark eyebrows, marring his handsome face with apprehension.
A smile crossed Andrej’s face and the worry line left Reyes’ forehead. “A happy child living in a land of sun and overgrown grass. There was a stern woman with kind eyes and a man with a crooked grin and gentle hands.” Zeklos paused, thinking back to that day. “I also remember a Labrador puppy and a horse named Joe.”
Reyes blinked. “You got all that from such a brief touch?”
Zeklos shrugged again. “Mother always said it was strong in me. But pleasant visions seem to flow easier than the other kind.”
“I guess this is why you avoid touching people, isn’t it?” Reyes was still watching him, monitoring his reactions.
“Exactly, although it doesn’t always work.” It was rather difficult to apprehend a suspect without touching them, especially in the desert where idiots liked to run around half naked. Zeklos left as much of the physical contact as he could to Zayne.
“Is it always this bad though?” Reyes tilted Zek’s chin upwards, giving him a thorough once over. “Your color’s coming back at least.”
“Thanks,” Zeklos said, rubbing his hands over his cheeks. “No, not unless there is a lot of negative energy attached to the item. In this case, there was an overwhelming amount of it. So much bok.” Bad luck. Andrej wiped his hands on his pants, wishing he could erase the feel of the coin from his skin. Briefly, he touched the spot where his protective talisman rested inside his pocket. Lifting his hand in the air, Zeklos waggled his fingers. “Help me up?”
“Of course.” Reyes stood and took Zek’s hand in both of his and drew his partner to his feet. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, thanks. Now put that thing away, please.” Zeklos glanced at the coin and shivered. “Better yet, get rid of the damn thing.”
Under normal circumstances, Reyes might have argued with him. Instead, he nodded and tossed the coin – probably worth several thousand dollars – into the trash. Money lost was preferable to the avoidance of evil things. “Let someone else play with bok. We need – what is it?”
“Kushti bok,” Zeklos said the ever-present Romanian accent thickening around the words. “Good luck.”
“Right,” Reyes said, slinging an arm around Zeklos’ shoulders, giving him an added bit of support. “But just in case it wants to follow us, you got some kind of magic you can whip out and protect us with?”
Chuckling, Zeklos shook his head. “Doesn’t exactly work that way,” he said. “But I’ve got something in reserve, in case we need it.”
Reyes didn’t question him. “Well, what I need right now, my little Romani, is food. And I think you could use a little something, too. What do you say?”
“I say that sounds good,” Zeklos agreed. “But you ought to drive. Just in case.”
Slipping his hand into his pocked, Zeklos’ fingers curled around the thin circle of metal he carried everywhere. Happy, pleasant thoughts filled him, things he’d impressed upon the talisman when he’d created it. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For now.
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Cross My Palm with Silver/Original Fic/PG/Very brief graphic yuckiness 2/2
Date: 2015-06-13 08:46 pm (UTC)“You said this happens when you touch people, too?” Reyes gave him an inquisitive look.
Shrugging, he tried to brush it off. “Sometimes, but very rarely. I’m more likely to get a reading off an object. But it has happened.”
“It happened the first time you ever touched me, didn’t it?”
He could see the realization in Reyes’ eyes. Zayne was right, too. They’d been partners for only a very short time back then, but Reyes had slipped and, unthinking, Zek had reached out to help him up. “Yes, it did.”
“What did you see?” A line formed between Reyes’ two dark eyebrows, marring his handsome face with apprehension.
A smile crossed Andrej’s face and the worry line left Reyes’ forehead. “A happy child living in a land of sun and overgrown grass. There was a stern woman with kind eyes and a man with a crooked grin and gentle hands.” Zeklos paused, thinking back to that day. “I also remember a Labrador puppy and a horse named Joe.”
Reyes blinked. “You got all that from such a brief touch?”
Zeklos shrugged again. “Mother always said it was strong in me. But pleasant visions seem to flow easier than the other kind.”
“I guess this is why you avoid touching people, isn’t it?” Reyes was still watching him, monitoring his reactions.
“Exactly, although it doesn’t always work.” It was rather difficult to apprehend a suspect without touching them, especially in the desert where idiots liked to run around half naked. Zeklos left as much of the physical contact as he could to Zayne.
“Is it always this bad though?” Reyes tilted Zek’s chin upwards, giving him a thorough once over. “Your color’s coming back at least.”
“Thanks,” Zeklos said, rubbing his hands over his cheeks. “No, not unless there is a lot of negative energy attached to the item. In this case, there was an overwhelming amount of it. So much bok.” Bad luck. Andrej wiped his hands on his pants, wishing he could erase the feel of the coin from his skin. Briefly, he touched the spot where his protective talisman rested inside his pocket. Lifting his hand in the air, Zeklos waggled his fingers. “Help me up?”
“Of course.” Reyes stood and took Zek’s hand in both of his and drew his partner to his feet. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, thanks. Now put that thing away, please.” Zeklos glanced at the coin and shivered. “Better yet, get rid of the damn thing.”
Under normal circumstances, Reyes might have argued with him. Instead, he nodded and tossed the coin – probably worth several thousand dollars – into the trash. Money lost was preferable to the avoidance of evil things. “Let someone else play with bok. We need – what is it?”
“Kushti bok,” Zeklos said the ever-present Romanian accent thickening around the words. “Good luck.”
“Right,” Reyes said, slinging an arm around Zeklos’ shoulders, giving him an added bit of support. “But just in case it wants to follow us, you got some kind of magic you can whip out and protect us with?”
Chuckling, Zeklos shook his head. “Doesn’t exactly work that way,” he said. “But I’ve got something in reserve, in case we need it.”
Reyes didn’t question him. “Well, what I need right now, my little Romani, is food. And I think you could use a little something, too. What do you say?”
“I say that sounds good,” Zeklos agreed. “But you ought to drive. Just in case.”
Slipping his hand into his pocked, Zeklos’ fingers curled around the thin circle of metal he carried everywhere. Happy, pleasant thoughts filled him, things he’d impressed upon the talisman when he’d created it. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For now.