By Vanessa E. Howard

A man in a suit dropped a bottle cap on my table at the back of the soda shop. I flipped it over. It had a white dot painted inside. He knew my code, which meant he was part of the underground crime system, but he must have been new because I didn’t recognize him. I gestured for him to sit down. This shop was a comically innocent place for my clientele, but teenage boys were limited in their choice of headquarters.

“They tell me you can ‘hear’ a building’s blueprints,” he said in a low tone. “You can get in and out of places other people can’t.”

If I decided to do the job, I’d keep the bottle cap. I had a big jar full of them. My talent was always in demand. But soon that would all be over because I almost had enough dough to get out of the city. To move someplace with fewer buildings where my thoughts could be quieter.

“That’s right. Whatcha got for me?”

“The Pug wants you to steal Sweet Jen’s necklace.”

I almost threw the bottle cap in his face. No way was I working for that dirtbag again. Not after what he did to me three years ago. Newbie must not have done his homework, or he would have known the connection. It was no secret that the Pug had promised to adopt me, took me in for years, used my talent, and then dumped me back at the orphanage. All he left me was a tacky pug dog pin.

I eyed the newbie. Maybe this was a delicious little opportunity he just dropped on my table. It could get me the money I needed, along with a side dish of revenge. I shoved the bottle cap into my pocket.

“I’ll do it.”

***

Sweet Jen’s estate stood back from the road, sheltered under a large stand of beech trees, which provided convenient shadows to hide in. Sweet Jen had built her empire by cheating laborers and immigrants; stealing from her didn’t bother me.

I slunk through the trees until I reached the main building. Resting my ear against the wall, I closed my eyes and listened as the house showed me its shape. I didn’t have to touch it to hear it, but it was faster and sharper that way.

Glowing golden lines formed in my mind: a series of hallways, a round entryway, stairwells, porches. A giant room with columns—ah, that was the ballroom. On the lower level, the lines were thicker. Must be sturdier materials, brick or block. The shapes firmed up in my thoughts and I could see the heavy door, the locks, and the shelves. Sweet Jen was famous for her jewelry and for the room she kept it in—what she called the “treasure box.”

I flattened my hand against the wall, opening my eyes while holding the image in my head. Now I looked for people. They appeared as nine blobby breaks in the golden lines of the house, and I knew some of them were her muscle. Too bad my talent didn’t show which were the dangerous ones and which were just bringing her a cup of tea.

The opposite end of the house held a back entrance and an empty stairwell. I rounded the corner to cross the rear grounds, but ducked back again, holding my breath. I’d been so focused on the interior I hadn’t looked at the exterior lines, and a guard paced only twenty feet away.

I closed my eyes and watched his form break the lines back and forth until I got his rhythm. A fountain graced the center of the grounds with massive potted plants on either side. When the guard was on the far end of his circuit, I dashed behind one pot, then crept past the fountain, staying low, watching both the guard and my mental map for surprises. At the other end of his circuit, I sprinted for the corner of the building and the stairwell entrance. I slipped in, softly closing the door. This theft would be a breeze. I’d been good when the Pug was training me, but now I was the best. If my skills had grown faster, I’d have double-crossed him years ago.

No breaks in the nearby golden lines. Down the stairs and to my right was the treasure box. The door remained unguarded. Maybe with the whole house supervised, she didn’t think she needed security at this double-locked door. I put my hand on it, listening for alarms and triggers. These were harder to hear than simple lines, but I knew what to note. Unexpected circles among the lines, squiggles, empty black spots. There were none here. I grinned. Sweet Jen was too comfortable, too confident. This would be good for her.

My talent only helped minimally with lock picking, but the Pug had taught me well.

Just as I knelt and settled the picks in the lock, a black shape crossed the golden lines in my mind, and I jumped, dropping a pick. Guard. Coming this way.

I fumbled the tools back in place. My fingers trembled as I twisted the picks. Finally, the latches clicked open. I sprinted across the room, watching my glowing lines. The necklace rested on a velvet pillow. No case or lock. A golden snake biting a huge ruby, the piece was worth enough to set me up for a while. I tucked it inside my shirt. Goodbye, bottle caps.

The black shape moved closer. I only had seconds, but I only needed seconds.

I had the perfect calling card to leave behind. I bent and fastened the little flat-faced, dog-shaped pin to the pillow. The Pug and Sweet Jen would duke it out for years to come.

And I’d be somewhere far away with fewer buildings, enjoying the quiet.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Vanessa E. Howard writes primarily fantasy for young adult and middle grade. She has been a newspaper reporter, magazine writer, and college composition teacher. A member of the Flash Fiction Magic writing community and ACFW, she is also a homeschool mom and co-op teacher. She has been published by Spark and Havok and has upcoming publications with Twenty Hills and Nightshade. Ms. Howard lives with her family in Central Texas.

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