Indefinite Renewal Read online

  “Hey, pal.” The voice, so loud after hearing only thoughts and background noise, startled him, and Nick jerked about, twisting to study the offending individual. He blinked several times, trying to force his eyes to focus on the real world again, and trained them on the man who had sunk into the seat in front of him, and was now turned around to face him. Older, heavyset, with a short gray fuzz of beard on his chin and muddy brown eyes, the man held a cigarette to his mouth, while his other hand clutched a half-empty pack tightly.

  “Got a light, bub?” The man continued, either not noticing Nick’s odd disorientation or too wrapped up in his own desires to care. The request brought a frown to Nick’s face, especially for being shocked into crude daylight after such exaggerated romantic daydreams, and he tossed his head in curt dismissal.

  “You shouldn’t smoke those,” he told the figure in front of him, and then finally focused in, blue eyes locking on brown ones. “They’re bad for you.” A faint smile touched his lips then, at the idea of trying to tell some guy on a train how to take better care of himself, but his stubborn streak asserted itself, and he persisted. “Those things cause cancer, not only to you, but to everyone around you, and they cause chemical imbalances in your body, and a psychological addiction. The small amount of pleasure you might derive from the nicotine, and from the comfort of having something in your mouth, is hardly worth the cost involved. I suggest you throw them away.”

  The other man had watched him without blinking throughout his little tirade, and had taken on a slightly glassy-eyed expression, probably in response to the unexpected lecture he had received. Now, however, as Nick watched, the man tugged the unlit cigarette from his mouth, smashing it clumsily against the outside of the pack as he hefted them in one hand and hurled them over his shoulder—the crumpled packet flew half the length of the car before tumbling to join the litter on the floor, where they were instantly snatched up by a trio of teenage boys who whispered and laughed and pointed fingers in the direction this unexpected gift had arrived from.

  The man himself didn’t bother to watch the results of his actions—immediately after throwing the cigarettes away he turned back in his seat and didn’t speak again, and Nick stared at the back of his head for several minutes before shaking himself and forcing a certain amount of interest in the passing view outside. But his brain was seething.

  Unbelievable, he muttered to himself. That’s got to be Williams’ bit kicking in—I told that guy to throw his cigarettes away, and he did it! Unreal! No wonder the man had his own show, and was such a motivator—people probably found themselves wanting to do what he told them, even without the training. I’ve got to be careful what I say to people, though—no ‘Go jump off a bridge’ for a while, at least, until I get a handle on how to control this.

  The rest of ride was uneventful, and Nick resisted the urge to eavesdrop on anyone or even look around, for fear that his new talents would somehow take control of his actions. It was with a touch of relief that he finally stepped out of the car and down the stair that put him a few blocks from the Club. Now, however, as the building loomed larger in his thoughts, a new fear emerged, one that had occurred to him before, but that he had refused to stop and consider seriously—this time it wasn’t taking any arguments, and hit him full-force before he could find something to distract himself with.

  What if they—the rest of the Renewed—turned out to be immune to his new abilities? He couldn’t be sure until he tried it, but if anyone would have some odd resistance to such things it would be these people, who had been alive so long and were a little different from the world around them. Worse yet, what if they could sense it somehow, or even do such things themselves?

  Marion had said that they had all thought of this and tried it themselves, at some earlier point in their lives, but that it had never worked properly. What if she had lied about the second part? What if they had each managed to get it to work, and no all had the same kind of abilities he had, but with several hundred years of experience on their side?

  Maybe this had all been some sort of elaborate test, and they had been waiting to see how long it would take him to figure it out. If that were the case, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about getting in trouble for it, but all of his plans would be shot—he would still be only their equal in ability, and still far inferior in experience. But surely they wouldn’t bother with some of the things they did, like Daniel’s sending him to the brokerage firm, if they could do such things mentally? Unless it were either a test for him, or one of the rules that they couldn’t use such abilities in competitions like this one.

  Nick shook his head and stepped to the side to avoid colliding with an out-of-breath man in a gray suit and a hurry, and cursed softly. It had all seemed so simple, at the start! But the more he thought about it, the more possibilities cropped up, and the more worried he was that something would go wrong. All too soon he found himself slowing before the red brick facade of the Club, and an odd sense of dread seemed to hang over him as he studied the dark windows glowering down at him.

  Finally he told himself to quit being such a baby, and forced himself to calm down, at least outwardly. He took the steps to the main door with as much grace and confidence as he could muster. There was nothing for it but to go ahead and see what happened—at the worst, he would simply be acknowledged for making a good attempt, and would have to devise a new plan. Quickly.

  Chapter Thirty

  The doorman let him with a nod, not even bothering to check against his list, and Nick felt an odd little lift at that. He had actually become an accepted member here, to the staff at least. A small voice at the back of his head warned that they were only human, and so didn’t count for much, but he suppressed that one angrily, refusing to allow himself to start thinking that way. He was still human too, dammit! But the voice laughed at that, asking what kind of human could read minds and mentally close doors and had a life-expectancy in the thousands of years, and he didn’t bother to answer, taking his anger out on the marble staircase as he stomped up to Daniel’s rooms. By the time he had reached the upper floor he had calmed down, and it was after several deep breaths and a reminder to himself to just get the list and go, without any funny business or impromptu experiments, that he finally raised a hand to rap on the door.

  His hand never completed its task, however—even as his knuckles brushed against the wood he heard the click of the lock, and the door slid away from him, revealing the room behind it. Nick froze in mid-motion, hand still raised as he stared at the now-open door, and at the man on the other side.

  “Nick!” His brief heart-stopping thought that Daniel had sensed his presence faded before the man’s obvious surprise, and he slowly let his arm drop back down to his side, forcing his face into what he hoped was a casual grin.

  “Daniel.” The two of them stared at each other for a minute, reminding Nick briefly of the image of himself standing before the mirror with chocolate syrup on his face, before his father finally stepped back and pulled the door open for him to enter.

  “Sorry,” the older man managed, moving away from the door and toward the chairs in the center of the room. “I was just a little surprised, is all—actually, I was just on my way out to deal with some things, but that can wait for a moment. Have a seat, make yourself comfortable.”

  “Thanks.” Nick sank down into his usual spot on the couch, giving the room a quick glance around. Everything looked the same, and the bright sunlight from the open window threw a broad beam of almost blinding light down across the table, dappling his leg with its brilliance—for a moment he was tempted to mentally close the drapes, but managed to stop himself in time, and frowned at his own carelessness. He’d have to watch himself here, especially since he was suddenly feeling the boyish urge to show off before his parent. None of that, especially now.

  Daniel had settled into his chair by this time, and faced Nick squarely, fingers laced together in front of him—despite the warm weather he was wearin
g a high-collared gray pullover and black slacks, and seemed comfortable in the cool of the room. For an instant neither spoke, then Daniel bowed his head slightly and took the first line.

  “So, how are you, then? It’s been a while since we last saw you here—we were starting to get a little worried.”

  “I’m fine,” Nick responded, smiling at the idea of worrying the man over anything. But of course he had also said “we”, which meant that he could simply be speaking for the Club members as a whole, and have had no particular anxieties himself. Nick dropped that line of thought before it went too far, and accepted the words at face value, for the moment. “Really—I’ve just been kind of busy lately, is all. Like I told you before, I had things I needed to straighten out for myself, and I also had a book to write.”

  “Yeah, how is that coming?” Nick couldn’t tell if this shadowy figure in front of him actually believed what he was saying or was merely being polite, and again he repressed the urge to peek into his mind and find out. Now wasn’t the time to test it. Later, maybe; for now he tried to relax and keep to polite conversation.

  “Pretty well—I’ve got the rough draft finished, so now it’s mostly a matter of polishing it up and maybe expanding on a few points, then sending it out to a publisher and crossing my fingers.” The novel had actually turned out quite well—he had written on it each day, after his exercises, and the doctor’s memories had been invaluable, enabling Nick to analyze the experiences he was undergoing and make sense of the results. He had stuck to hypothetical cases and anonymous earlier studies, however, in an effort to avoid any references to his own abilities, both to keep from making the general public suspicious of him and to keep from giving anyone at the club any ideas. After all, he hardly wanted to go through life as a carnival freak, being forced to perform for audiences and shunned from so-called ‘polite’ society: and as for the other Renewed, if they didn’t already know how to do that sort of thing, he certainly didn’t want to give away his advantage, and he was fairly certain Daniel and Michael and possibly Marion would read the work, if only to see what he had been up to. He pulled his thoughts back to the present and the room as he realized that Daniel was speaking.

  “You realize,” he was saying with a faint smile and a touch of condescension, “that you don’t have to subject yourself to the vagaries of an editor’s interest? The money you will receive at the end of this contest should be enough for you to purchase a majority in some small publishing firm, and then you can publish it yourself, by pulling a few strings. Or, if you’d rather put your own funds to other uses, I’m sure I have an interest in at least one firm, somewhere or other—I could have it published for you.”

  Nick laughed and shook his head. “Thanks, but I don’t think so. You may simply want to have your own way in everything, but I’d rather have the work succeed for its own sake, because it was good enough for people to take an interest in it. If I get it published by pulling strings and spending money, I’ll never know if it was actually any good, or if it was only the money that got it there.”

  His father shrugged at that. “What difference does it make? After all, the end justifies the means—if you want it published, and then have it published, by any means necessary. Isn’t the publication itself the whole point?”

  That got another laugh. “I can see that, whatever else you’ve been and done, you were never a writer or performer. The idea is for the work to be accepted on its own merits, and only those, so that it can stand alone, separate from any money or influence you might have. That way you know your idea had value on its own, without having to be bolstered by outside sources—that’s the real point.”

  His companion simply waved a hand in casual acceptance. “Whatever you prefer, I suppose. You are correct, of course—I was always a conqueror and a collector, never a creator, so perhaps I cannot understand your reasoning on this. But if that is how you want it, very well.” He leaned forward then, and a predatory look crossed his face, lingering for a moment behind the dark eyes. “And now, what of my own interests? Is that why you came?”

  Nick chuckled. “Boy, you’ve got a one-track mind, don’t you? Yeah, I thought I’d stop by and visit for a bit, see how things here were, but the main reason was to see if you had any new instructions for that brokerage firm of yours. I assume you do, and have just been waiting for me to show up and get them.”

  Daniel didn’t answer, but instead stood up and moved around his chair to the small table by the bar, opening it and taking out a familiar-looking folder. Without a word he carried it over and dropped it on the coffee table, then returned to his seat as Nick studied the contents.

  “You are right, of course,” the older man commented idly, and Nick knew without looking that there would be a sly smile on the man’s face. He read on, only half-listening as his father continued. “I put this together earlier this week, actually, so it hasn’t been sitting for long, and I’ve kept an eye on the market since then—nothing has changed, really, so the instructions are still accurate.” He stopped there, and Nick finally looked up, to meet his father’s knowing gaze. “Your sense of timing is definitely improving, as is your acceptance of the situation.”

  That rankled a little, with its implication that he had to adapt himself to Daniel’s whim and had no say in things, but Nick calmed himself with a thought of how things would change, and returned the older man’s smile. “Yeah, well, I found that it fit me better than I thought at first,” he managed, and saw the look of approval in his father’s eyes as the meaning sank in. Even without any abilities, Nick could tell the thought that was echoing in his father’s head then—that’s my boy. The idea no longer disgusted him as much as it had before.

  “Well, this all seems to make sense,” he commented, flipping the folder shut and placing it next to him on the couch. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

  Daniel nodded at that. “Excellent. The changes I’m expecting should catch the others by surprise—most likely it will only be a matter of years now before this particular game is at an end.” It’ll be a lot sooner than that, Nick thought to himself, but he didn’t say anything, and his companion leaned back slightly, stretching long legs across the rich carpet.

  “So how is everyone else doing?” Nick inquired, feeling as if he were catching up with some old friend or distant relation rather than a centuries-old father. Then again, Daniel was his relation, and he could certainly act distant, so perhaps the thought held some merit. Right now, for example, the man was sitting with a slightly blank look on his face, apparently not sure who his son was referring to or why he would be asking about others, and Nick shook his head. Some of these people might be capable of some very frightening things, but most of them had obviously been without normal conversation or social graces for some time.

  “Have you seen Michael recently?” He clarified, and saw the understanding clear his father’s gaze. “Or Marion? I had wanted to stop by and see both of them while I was here today—it’s been a while.”

  “I haven’t seen Michael for several days, actually,” Daniel admitted, without any indication that the lapse upset him at all. “I did have lunch with Marion just yesterday, however—I believe she said something about going to Egypt to pick up a few sculptures she’d had her eye on. Apparently the government there has been having some difficulties, and so they’ve decided to sell some of their more obscure national treasures at private auction.” There was a grudging look of admiration on his face. “I don’t know how she managed it, but the whole affair has Marion’s hand all over it. Very subtle, that woman.” He seemed lost in thought for a moment, an almost fond smile on his face, then shrugged and returned to his normal impassivity. “So I’m afraid you’ve missed her for the moment—she should be back in a couple of days, though.”

  Nick nodded easily. “That’s okay—I’ll just catch her when I stop back by, after this is all taken care of.” He levered himself off the couch then, and straightened slowly, enjoying the momentary height a
dvantage as Daniel regarded him from his chair. “I should probably get going, though.”

  “Very well.” Now his father stood and accompanied him to the door, holding it open in his best butler-fashion. “I would ask you to stay longer, but I do have those things to see to, and I had best be about them.” He smiled slightly, a little more warmly than usual. “I am glad you stopped by, though—I hope that next time it will be less business, and more pleasure. We do have empty rooms here, you know—perhaps you’d like to come and stay for a few days next time, play some pool, and just get to know everyone? You’d be welcome, of course, and I’m sure both Michael and Marion would be happy to see you.”

  Great, Nick thought. Sort of an Immortals Hotel—check-out by the year 2000, drinks and fresh bodies included. But the idea did have some appeal, and he probably should meet all of the others, so for now he simply shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. But in any case I’ll be back in a day or two,” he waved the folder he held, “after I’ve taken care of this.”

  “Excellent,” Daniel replied. “Till then, then.” And he turned away, his expression so smug that Nick couldn’t help himself. As lightly as he could, feeling like a mental sneak-thief, he reached out and touched Daniel’s mind, trying to steel himself against the shock of running into some kind of mental barrier. But there was no resistance, and he slipped in as easily as he had entered Pete’s thoughts on the subway, and immediately encountered what seemed to be the two most recent thoughts in Daniel’s head. Certainly they were the clearest, and the strongest signal, but oddly they seemed almost contradictory. One was Excellent! The boy is finally starting to work out, just as I had hoped but the other seemed to be Don’t get too cocky, or too soft on him! He’s still far too independent and far too noncommittal for comfort.