Technomancer (Unspeakable Things: Book One)

the end, I found I couldn’t shoot a man in the gut when his hands were up. I’d not seenhim make any moves at me, or I would have done it anyway. Whatever his power was, I had no evidence that it was violent in nature. But I remained guarded. These people were anything but friendly.
    When he had stopped shimmering and could speak, he found the muzzle of my .32 auto in his face. This time, to my gratification, he looked worried. He didn’t have a gang of faithful minions surrounding him now.
    “We’ve not been properly introduced,” he said.
    I had to give it to him, he was smooth. Smoother than I would have been with a gun in my face. My lips had curled away from my teeth, and I must have resembled a snarling dog. I was angry, and my leg was still bleeding. I was in a dangerous mood.
    “Give me your name, then,” I said. “I’ll have them carve it into your headstone.”
    “Thomas Gilling,” he said evenly. “And yours?”
    “Quentin Draith.”
    Gilling nodded, then made a gesture of recognition, lifting a finger into the air and opening his mouth into an “O.” My trigger finger tightened in paranoia, but he didn’t seem to notice.
    “Draith,” he said. “Ah yes! The blogger! I know you now.”
    “You’ve read my stuff?”
    Gilling nodded. His demeanor had changed a great deal. He seemed almost affable, despite my gun barrel, which never wavered from his face.
    “I thought your columns were nonsensical originally, you understand,” he said. “But I followed your bits and dribblings. You actually helped me make my initial contacts among the fringe of the Community. People with minor objects and other hangers-on.”
    “Glad I could help,” I said bemusedly. “Now, if you don’t want to die, I suggest you step back through.”
    Gilling looked back over his shoulder toward the rip. “Almost too late for that. I really must apologize. When you asked to join us, I didn’t take you seriously. I didn’t think you could possibly have the kind of power you demonstrated back there.”
    I almost said “what power?” like an idiot. I barely managed to stop myself in time. Realizing I needed to seem as cool and powerful as possible, I didn’t confess my ignorance. Instead, I nodded as if I completely understood whatever it was he was hinting at.
    “Quite impressive,” he continued, watching me. “You were immune to both a sonic attack and a thermal projection.”
    “You mean the hammer and the rag doll, right?”
    “Ahem,” he said, as if I’d soiled myself. “Naturally.”
    “Yeah,” I said. “I can be hard to take out.”
    “Quite,” Gilling said. “But I’ll tell you what really impressed me, what made me come after you for more information. The knife
did
strike home, didn’t it?”
    I took a half step back just in case he was planning another test. My pistol twitched in my hand.
    Gilling made a calming gesture. “Again, let me apologize. We behaved abominably. You are possibly the most powerful rogue I’ve ever met.”
    I frowned at him. “How do you figure that?”
    His hands spread wide again. This guy really liked to talk with his hands.
    “Don’t be modest,” he said. “You resisted the powers of three others. No one there could touch you, I’d wager. Rheinman’s blast went right by you and hit Caroline. That was quite a shock for us. I knew that it couldn’t be somethingas simple as a shielding force that cocooned you, preventing harm. No, if it had been that, you wouldn’t have been vulnerable to Fiona’s knife.”
    “You mean the kid who slashed me?”
    “Yes. After you stepped out, she held her blade aloft to show the rest of us it was stained with your essence. I inspected her blade immediately. That was the moment I became intrigued. I had to follow you.”
    “What for?” I asked.
    “Why—to offer you membership in my coven,” Gilling said. “After all, you did say you wished to join us, didn’t you?”

I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or violently pissed. The cultists might or might not be murderers, but I was certain they had stabbed me.
    “What’s happened to you people?” I asked, honestly confused. “You look like normal enough individuals—housewives, schoolkids, laborers. How could you turn into a group that sits around in a circle and
bleeds
things?”
    “May I sit down?” Gilling asked, as politely as always.
    I gestured toward the chairs around the table. The shimmer in the midst of the sliding glass door had turned