The Rift Singer

Hunter’s day started out fine—he’d found a great job on his Sidegigs app—easy, paid well and only three day’s work would pay enough for a month of groceries. He hadn’t even minded getting up early enough to bike to the market. He climbed the steps out of his basement apartment and unlocked his bike. Strapping on his helmet, he hopped on and wobble, wobble, scrape.

“Damn it.”

He rolled the bike and its flat tire back under the eave and locked it, put his helmet on the steps and headed down the street on foot. Two blocks over, he could catch the bus and he wouldn’t be too late. It was nice out, chilly like most October mornings in Philly, but at least not raining.

That is until he was half a block before the bus stop and the clouds moved in. Raindrops laughed at him for thinking he would have a great day.  

He arrived at the market on time but drenched. The Italian Market had been a Philly staple since 1890 and had been enlarged and improved several times over the years. There was all manner of specialty foods from every ethnic group, as well as gifts, cookware, lawn ornaments and whatever else you might need.

Pulling open one of the heavy doors, he pushed his way through vendors setting up. So far he was rumpled, damp and grumpy. Still, he was determined to have a good day.

His gig was to give out product samples of meatless Italian meatballs. He’d set up his table, cooker, and cooler, on the opposite end of the market from the tattoo business where Niko Evander worked. It was a big place, full of people. Hunter told himself that he could work this gig for three days without ever seeing the cocky asshole. The chances of running into anyone he knew were slim. Yet, here he was.

“Hunter, what are you doing here?” Niko called from behind the deli counter as Hunter passed.

“Working. Same as you,” Hunter hurried on, his wet shoes squishing. Niko’s responding scoff had him turning back to address the college kid. “What are you doing here?”

He gestured at the deli counter as a gray-haired woman joined Niko. She barked instructions in Greek and the younger man ducked his head and turned away to do as he was asked. Hunter smiled and walked away. Evander’s Deli had been a staple in the Italian Market since Hunter could remember. Apparently, even if he had a regular job as a tattoo artist, Niko still paid his dues with Grandma Evander. Hunter hoped the lady worked his ass off. Then he wouldn’t find Hunter and start something. Because starting things was Niko’s specialty.

Niko had been relentless in his pursuit of Hunter’s friend Isabelle Paradiso. Not that any of it was Hunter’ s business. He and Izzy were friends, that was all. But he was protective and thought her far too good for the likes of a snippy college jerk. But…big brother, he was not as Niko snidely informed him. The damned kid went so far as to infer that Hunter was mooching off her because his rent was so low. Far below the going rate.

Hunter pulled the folding table and cooler out from its storage place. His samples were sizzling away in the skillet by the time most morning shoppers were out. The tiny meatballs sent out a calling card of mouth-watering goodness, so all he had to do was unleash his feelers, as he called them.

He and Izzy had been working together for more than two years, training each other on their various abilities. Izzy was a seer—visions of different time lines, of past and present. She could also see energies of people, enough to understand how they changed with their emotions. Hunter’s gift of future seeing only extended a minute or two, and only of people close to him, never his own future, mind you, or something useful like that.

Still, he intended to practice seeing people’s aura’s, their energies. He took a deep breath, settled his own nervous energy and blinked, sending invisible threads out among the shoppers to reach potential buyers for his wares.

 He worked it through mid-morning and made several sales before he had to stop. Mentally exhausted, he was ready for a break when the vision happened. As it often did, randomly. The room buzzed and faded. Knowing things were about to go black, he reached over and flicked off the skillet, steadying himself at the edge of the table.

The black dissipated quickly into a vision of himself and Niko right here at his table.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you.” The young man ran a hand through his dark waves. “I don’t know what you have against me and Izzy, but we’re getting serious, so I think you should just back the hell off.”

“What?” Hunter watched himself talking with Niko as though in a dream. Of all the people’s futures he didn’t want to see. Niko was number one.

“You heard me. You think my motives are sus, but I’m high-key into her, so you need to chill.”

Hunter laughed. “Dude. You sound so ridiculous. You really are taking this Gen Z speak too far. It doesn’t impress me, and it doesn’t impress Izzy. And I do think you’re sus, but that’s beside the point. Izzy is my friend. Was my friend before you came on the scene, and I don’t think you have what it takes to be with her. She’s special, okay? Like more special than you could ever understand.” Hunter thought of this as he watched himself speak. Niko was a normal, not gifted and, like most folk, had no idea of the supernatural realm.

“I know she’s special. She’s smart and funny and nice. Not to mention hot.”

A snort came out of Hunter. “You don’t get it. She’s got abilities. Like supernatural abilities that would blow you away if you knew about them. Which is why she hasn’t told you.”

Niko’s dark brows angled up on his forehead. “What are you talking about?”

Darkness flooded Hunter’s vision. He was back, the noise of the market shoppers cascading around him, a young woman standing at his table. “Are you gonna give me one of those meatballs?” She scowled.

“Oh, yes. Of course.” He speared one on a toothpick, handed it to her with a napkin. He went into his spiel, but intentionally made it short. After she left without buying anything, he put a lid on the skillet and searched for the back later sign. He needed to get out of there before Niko showed up.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you.” Niko called out.

Hearing the voice, Hunter’s shoulders sagged. Too slow. Again. “We don’t always get what we want, Niko.” He smiled, but it wasn’t his nicest.

“I don’t know what you have—”

“I don’t have anything against you.” Hunter put his hand up. “Or Izzy, or the two of you.” Okay, this wasn’t exactly true, but he couldn’t quite say why he had an issue with them. He just did. “But she’s a friend, and I don’t want her to get hurt. She’s been through a lot.”

“I know all about her and the old man,” Niko said.

“Whatever.” Hunter gestured vaguely. “I’m on a break.” He found his sign and plopped it in front of Niko with a glare.

“I know you think my motives are sus, but I’m high-key into her. So, you need to back the hell—where are you going?”

“I’m on break.” Hunter walked away. He needed to go. Just get away from Niko and he wouldn’t say it. But damn it. There were things that needed to be said.

“Asshole,” Niko hissed after him. Hunter stopped, his shoulders sagging. Don’t do it. Just keep walking. “Yeah. You heard me. You just don’t want to hear that I’m getting some a—”

Hunter was at Niko’s chest, his finger jabbing into his solar plexus. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He pushed the younger man. “Just walk away.”

“You walk away. This is my place.” Niko’s arms were wide, indicating the entire marketplace.

Hunter ground his teeth. “You have no clue about Izzy. They practically save the world everyday.” He firmly believed this. Between Izzy and Tam and Marlowe, they did a lot of good in the world. Hunter helped them. They all did. Abraham and Arial, Ziggy and Cobb, even Volpi in his way. Everyone pitched in. They understood the enormity of it all. “And what do you do? You draw on people.”

“I’m an artist. You work in a bar and sell whatever shit this is.” He jerked his chin back at the skillet. “And what do you mean, they? Who are you talking about? Izzy? I know she teaches, so if that’s saving the world, then great.”

“You just don’t know.” Hunter walked away again, having already said too much. Niko followed him.

“But you weren’t talking about the University, were you? And who’s they?”

“Never mind.”

Niko grabbed his arm. “No. You tell me what’s going on. Is Izzy in trouble?”

“Let go of me. She’s fine.” He jerked his arm out of his grasp and strode away. He knew he’d said too much. Now all he could to was avoid talking to Niko again for the rest of the day. And tomorrow. And hopefully, the rest of his life.

∞

At five, Hunter cleaned up and put his equipment away, his belly rumbled as he wandered back through the vendor stalls and crowds. Once again, Evander’s deli called to him. But this time, it was a philly cheesesteak and potato salad. There was already a line of people waiting, and he’d stepped up to the queue when he heard his name. Looking to the side, he saw Arial waving at him.

“Hey,” he came up to her. “What are you doing here?”

“Grabbing dinner.” She flashed him a bright smile. Arial was part of that saving the world crowd Hunter had almost divulged to Niko. “I’m picking up cheesesteaks for me and Abraham. Come up with me. Save you a wait.”

He glanced back to the end of the line. Five more customers had queued up.

“Okay thanks.”

They chatted about his gig at the market, and he casually brought up Niko. If the kid was going to show up at Izzy’s house, Hunter would make himself scarce.

The petite girl grinned again. The white teeth brilliant against her dark skin. She cocked her head at him in a decidedly avian movement. “Why? You got a thing for Niko or something?”

“God no. I’m just looking out for my family, you know?”

“Izzy can take care of herself.”

“Yeah. I know. Niko is just…the worst.” He made a face. “He called me fucking vintage.”

Arial laughed. “He said your T-shirts were vintage, and they are.”

“Bowie is classic.” Hunter insisted. “Niko’s a normal.” He refused to call him an innocent. “He’ll never understand what it is we do.”

“Maybe that’s what she’s looking for. Normal. Especially after Volpi.”

He sighed, thinking about his earlier slip up with Niko. Should he admit that to Arial? If Niko came back to her, she should be prepared. They moved up a fraction of a step in line.

A buzz in his ears preceded the blackout. His hand reached out and he felt Arial take his arm. But he didn’t hear her. He was somewhere else. Outside the market, a black entity swept through the street and overturned tables. He blinked and saw Arial staring at him.

“What?” she asked.

“Outside,” he said and ran. He had only seconds to get there.

Jerking on the heavy door, he sprinted through the brew pub’s outdoor tables, Arial on his heels.

A fierce gust of wind tumbled down the sidewalk. It blew hats, scarves, and unattended bags across the sidewalk. Shoppers scrambled. The energy blasted toward the tables and Hunter sprang in front of two children, shielding them from the whip of the umbrella as it came unmoored and slammed against the building.

“Microburst!” he shouted. “Everybody inside.” He glanced at Arial who hesitated only a second before ushering bewildered patrons toward the door. Two more chairs and a table toppled and rolled.

Just as quickly as it happened, the blast died out, leaving only the murmur of questions as customers came back outside.

“I heard there was some weird weather patterns happening today.” Hunter supplied casually as people cleaned up. But under his breath, he murmured to Arial. “What was that?”