Page 80 of Swamp Kings 2

I can’t help that I have more, and it’s not helpful to her to be treated like she’s handicapped.

But she is.

She is not.

Brothers,Fetch cut in, amused.

“Last one,” she warned. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Fin said.

Fathom usedhistoolsand this time he saw a shift in her little brain waves, almost like a flash glitch. He froze, seeing she’d played scissors rather than the intended rock.Did you let her win?

I did not. She changed her mind at the very last measures in a second.

Intuition,Fetch marveled.It’s like our powers, only they don’t come with controls. I’ve seen this phenomenon in Rowan.

The little girl held up her hand toward him. “You did very good for your first try,” she praised. “You’re supposed to slap my palm with yours,” she instructed. Fin raised his hand, and she grabbed it, forcing the smack. “Like that.”

She turned to Fathom now. “You wanna play?”

“I do,” he said, ready to study this phenomenon again.

“Two out of three,” she reminded.

Fathom followed all her directions, curious over the fuzz that seemed to collect on his electrical systems as he did.She did it again,he marveled to his brothers when she switched her answers on the third tie breaker, right at the farthest edge of the final second.Are you helping her?he asked Fetch.

Not a single bit, Uncle Fathom,he assured.

“You did very good,” she praised him too, nodding with a happy smile. “You’ll probably beat me next time.”

The women giggled quietly as they watched and Fathom eyed her little palm, up and waiting for the loser’s smack. He gave it and she suddenly climbed in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank you for playing with me Uncle Fathom,” she mumbled.

She crawled off and crawled right up Fin next. “Thank you, Uncle Fin.”

She turned and ran to Fetch now, andhe laughed when she lunged on him, catching her in his arms. Fathom and Fin measured the difference in their hug, noting the use of her full body, the wattage of energy used, and how she never let him go.

****

“What’s on your mind,” Seer asked quietly from the passenger seat. “I can feel it cutting into my skull, whatever it is.”

Bishop didn’t know how to put it into words, or which shit to start with. “Well, my gifts were driving me nuts and I figured out an on off switch for them,” he said.

“Yeah?” He felt Seer’s eyes on him.

“Everything I touched, looked at, heard, smelled—it was all coming with… information about each. Shit I didn’t need or want, just a flood of unchecked data in a constant state of rapid flow.”

“Well… that’s good,” he said, nodding slowly for many seconds.

“I’m worried about this vision you had,” he forced out.

“I figured that,” he muttered, more nods.

“It’s not making sense. You see us rescuing Mabel, you don’t see anything about kids, we rescue what you don’t see and don’t rescue what you do.” He moved his hands along the steering wheel, unable to shake the dread. “We weren’t gonna take Spook and we did. Even though he didn’t ride with us… what if that screwed it up?”

“We don’t know it’s screwed up.”

“We don’t know it wasn’t,” he challenged, glancing at the weary look on his face. Bishop really didn’t like it, none of it. “I didn’t want to look at the drawing of what would happen if I didn’t fulfill the vision and now, I think I need to know.”

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