Wild-born by Adrian Howell Page B

Cindy called again in a slightly exasperated tone. We waited for a moment in silence.
    “Hello,” I heard her quiet voice say inside my head, and I finally understood what was going on. Alia could speak directly into people’s minds!
    “She said hello,” I whispered to Cindy, and then called out, “Hi there, Alia!”
    “That’s a little better,” called Cindy. “But remember what I said, Alia? You have to speak the words too. With your mouth. And it wouldn’t hurt to come into the kitchen and say it directly to him.”
    “It’s okay,” I said, unsure why the girl was so afraid of me but not wanting to cause any trouble.
    But Cindy shook her head and said, “No, it’s not okay. She needs to learn.”
    I looked toward the doorway again. Alia was standing there, silently looking at me, her face rigid with fear. She looked really small in her oversized cotton shirt and pants, and I guessed she was about four or five years old. I smiled again, trying my best to look harmless. She took one small step forward, then another. Ever so slowly, she crossed the kitchen until she was almost close enough to shake hands with.
    “That’s right, sweetie,” Cindy said softly, “say hello. This is Adrian Howell. Adrian, this is Alia Gifford.”
    “Hello, Alia,” I said as gently as I could.
    Alia tensed up, but she didn’t back away. I could see her lips quivering slightly.
    Then, in a barely audible whisper, she said, “Ha-ow.”
    “Hi,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief.
    Cindy stage-whispered to us, “Shake hands!”
    I stretched out my right arm, but a little too suddenly. Alia jumped back like a frightened cat. She surveyed me with infinite caution before finally stepping forward again and slowly putting her arm out. As her trembling hand reached mine, I didn’t squeeze it or shake it, but just let our fingers touch for a moment.
    “Good girl!” said Cindy, crouching down and opening her arms wide. Alia jumped into them, and Cindy gave her a big hug, saying, “That was a pretty good hello, sweetie.”
    Picking her up, Cindy said to me, “Alia has a lot of trouble speaking with her mouth, so usually she’ll just talk into your head, okay?”
    “Sure,” I said, shrugging. Judging by the way the kid was clinging to Cindy, I seriously doubted she was ever going to speak with me anyway.
    Cindy carried Alia into the living room, which was spacious and clean, with a rectangular coffee table and two long sofas. There was also an old-fashioned redbrick fireplace with fake firewood in it. There was no TV, but instead there was a long bookshelf built into one of the walls. A stairway led up to what I assumed were the bedrooms.
    Cindy tried to set Alia down onto a sofa, but Alia refused to let go, so Cindy sat down herself, keeping the girl in her lap.
    Cindy then closed her eyes, as if in prayer. I watched her, wondering what she was doing, but then I noticed that my staring was making Alia really scared, so I looked away.
    After a few minutes, I heard Cindy say, “Listen, Adrian, I’m really beat. My shift starts tomorrow, and I have to get some sleep. Like right now. Let me sleep for a few hours.”
    I turned to her. “Yeah, okay. What do you want me to do?”
    “Just stay put. Don’t leave the house. Our protection has gotten smaller. I’ve reinforced it just a bit now, but it still might not even cover the whole street. I’ll restore it completely as soon as I sleep some. Sit here. Read. Do whatever.”
    “Okay, sure. What about...” I nodded toward Alia, who was still clinging to Cindy for dear life.
    “Oh, this little monkey?” Cindy smiled, and then said to Alia, “How about it, Ali? You want to stay here and make friends with Adrian?”
    Alia looked up at Cindy and frantically shook her head.
    Cindy laughed, saying, “Yeah, didn’t think so. But he’s going to live here too now, you know. Sooner or later, you’ll have to get used to it.”
    After a quick glance in my direction, Alia buried