Pathfinder

By J.A. Jaken

Shai discovers he is a pathfinder and is desperate to find a genetically suitable partner to prevent his extrasensory talents from running amok. Unfortunately those talents make him a target for the brutal crime lords and other violent denizens who inhabit the city of Nhil-Rhar. Shai needs to learn how to use his pathfinder senses--no matter how much they terrify him--before he's trapped in a partnership that will enslave him for the rest of his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.A. Jaken
• Release date: Apr 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9780986233043

J.A. Jaken

J.A. Jaken has been writing fictional stories and novels for more than ten years, most frequently in the fantasy and science fiction genres. She got her start in the profession writing slash fanfiction, where she has published numerous stories under the pen-name Rushlight. Over the years she has written short stories and novels in genres ranging from science fiction/fantasy to gothic horror to modern detective mysteries, most with at least a touch of m/m romance to them. She lives at home in the southwestern U.S. with her college-aged son, a cat, and the family Rottweiler. Outside of writing, her interests include studying foreign languages, practicing martial arts, riding horses, and collecting medieval weaponry.

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Disclaimer

This book is a work of fiction which contains explicit erotic content; it is intended for adult audiences only. Do not read this if it's not legal for you.

All the characters, locations and events herein are fictional. While elements of existing locations or historical characters or events may be used fictitiously, any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental.

This story includes graphic scenes of sex and/or violence. It may contain descriptions of erotic acts that are immoral, illegal, or unsafe. Do not take the events in this story as proof of the plausibility or safety of any particular practice.

Chapter 1: Nightfall

"Hey, Shai, cover my shift for me tonight?"

Shai looked up from the bucket of soapy water he was using to wipe down the bar and tossed his head to clear his heavy bangs out of his eyes. In your dreams, Nichols, he said with a grin.

Around them, the common room of the Hunted Lord loomed silent and empty, a mausoleum of slimly fashionable tables and chairs, the colorful neon lights of their fixtures extinguished during these early hours. The large stage across from the bar was littered with pieces of technotrash detritus that the band from last night had left behind, washed in the watery grey light coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the far wall. The solid black floor looked leaden in the shadows of the rain that slid over the glass.

Shai turned his attention back to his work, chuckling inwardly. Aaron Nichols wasn’t a bad sort, but he had an annoying habit of trying to draft other people into doing his work for him when he wanted to sneak off to do a little extracurricular fundraising of his own. Fortunately, Shai had plenty of experience in deflecting his rather obvious ploys.

I’ll make it worth your while. Aaron sidled up to the other side of the bar and leaned across it, trying to catch Shai’s eye. He was stylishly waif-like, with a shock of bright red hair cut in such a way that it emphasized the lean lines of his face. The effect was compounded by the blood red stripe of makeup slashed diagonally across each of his cheeks. Bright silver glinted at his throat and wrists, dulled from their usual luster by the absence of overhead lighting—faux bondage symbols that were more ornamental than functional. He was eighteen but looked fourteen, which was a definite asset in his line of work.

Next to Aaron, Shai always felt a bit unremarkable. He was—he'd always thought—nothing much to look at, with chin-length brown hair and green eyes that were a shade too pale to be interesting. His face was too angular, and while there was a certain delicacy to his features that had prompted more than one lover to call him pretty, he would never have Aaron’s careless beauty.

Eli’s going to whip your ass if you’re hiding wages from him again, Shai warned, pushing a sleeve up over one thin wrist. He dropped the rag he held into the bucket next to him and stepped back to survey his work with a critical eye. The countertop shone.

Aaron smiled disarmingly. How’s he gonna find out? Especially if there’s someone covering my tables for me?

Shai liked Aaron—had even fucked him once or twice—but he still wouldn’t trust him farther than he could throw him. Aaron had the scruples of a shark set loose in bloodied water; he was hopelessly drawn to anything that gave even the vaguest promise of money or pleasure. Not to mention that Shai had far too much invested in his job here to even consider doing anything that might jeopardize his future employment.

Sorry, he said succinctly, hefting the heavy water bucket with both hands as he turned to leave. He cast a thin-lipped smile in Aaron’s direction. I’m afraid you’re going to have to find someone else.

Working at the Hunted Lord wasn’t quite as glamorous as it might seem to the outside observer, but Shai had no complaints. Eli Steiner wasn’t a bad employer to have: he gave fair wages, and he treated his people right. He had a habit of taking in strays off the streets, as long as they promised to keep themselves clean and weren’t affiliated with any of the neighborhood’s gangs. And while he didn’t require his kids to whore for him, he didn’t exactly discourage them from doing so, as long as he saw a percentage of the profits. Eli was nothing if not an able entrepreneur.

Shai had always been grateful that Eli didn’t expect more from him than that he help keep the place clean and take his turn waiting tables in the evenings. It had become a point of pride for him that he’d never had to resort to selling his body in order to stay alive during the years he’d lived on the streets, before Eli had taken him in. Now that he had an actual roof over his head and regular meals to look forward to, it would seem like self-betrayal of the highest caliber to do so.

Coward, Aaron said affectionately, following him into the back hall. His shoulder brushed Shai’s as they stepped into the kitchen. You’re a fuckin’ prude, you know that?

Yeah. Shai grinned ruefully and hefted the bucket up to the sink where he could empty it. Sweating slightly from the exertion, he wiped the back of one hand across his forehead. But I’m an employed one. And people like Aaron would never know what it was like not to know where their next meal was coming from, or to huddle shaking and hungry in some back alley waiting for winter to pass. Coming to work at the Hunted Lord was like being granted the keys to a whole new world.

Freak, Aaron said with a grin, and leaned in quickly to kiss him on the cheek. Save me a dance tonight, all right?

Sure. Shai knew Aaron would forget about him as soon as the paying customers started coming in, but still, he appreciated the thought.

Then Aaron was gone, and Shai heaved a sigh of relief, wiping his hands dry across the front of his pants. He’d need to get some sleep before his shift started that evening, but for now he still had a couple hours to himself before he had to turn in. Pushing his hair back out of his eyes with one hand, he snagged a semi-clean plate from the counter and piled it high with leftovers from last night’s dinner, then turned to make his way upstairs.

Most of the upper floors were reserved for the hostel’s paying clients, but there were a cluster of rooms near the back of the second floor where Eli housed the people who worked for him. The Hunted Lord catered mostly to businessmen of one ilk or another, rich playboys looking for a taste of the inner city, aspiring musicians hoping to make it big before the city devoured the last of their savings, spoiled sons and daughters of VIPs who wanted to break free of daddy’s influence, at least for a while—certainly no one Shai had any interest in running into outside of the nightclub’s business hours. There were also a number of rooms on the fourth floor that Eli rented out by the hour, although Shai generally steered clear of those.

There weren’t usually very many people awake at this time of the morning, and Shai managed to make his way upstairs without running into another soul. He stopped off briefly at his room to grab his coat and then started up the back stairs toward the roof. He let the door swing shut behind him as he ducked into the dimly lit stairwell, precariously balancing his plate on one hand while he shrugged into his coat with the other.

He relaxed into the sound of the rain pattering against the rooftop as he emerged into the narrow breezeway at the top of the stairs. The covering over it extended a few feet beyond the edge of the doorway, and Shai leaned a shoulder against one of the pillars there as he sank down to sit cross-legged on the ground. The roof felt cold even through the tight leather of his pants and the knee-length thickness of his coat, but at least here he was marginally shielded from the rain.

Balancing his plate on his knees, he hunched his shoulders against the light splatter of drops that hit his skin and gnawed absently at a cold chicken leg. Despite the rain, it wasn’t particularly cold outside this time of year. No one else ever came up here, as far as he knew, and the spot had become a sort of haven for him ever since he’d discovered it about a year ago.

Beneath him, the city of Nhil-Rhar spread out in all its dubious splendor, looking as if it were a picture that had been drawn by a psychotic child with a box of enormous crayons. This section of the city was a hectic jumble of narrow streets and even narrower alleys, lined on all sides by unrepentantly gaudy buildings of various shapes and sizes. At four stories high, the Hunted Lord was one of the tallest vantage points in the area, and its roof provided a fairly uninterrupted view of the surrounding blocks. In the far-off distance, Shai could see the outline of the towering megacomplexes that marked the beginning of the business district, looking hazy and indistinct through the curtain of falling rain.

The rain softened the streets’ outlines slightly, and daylight had its usual effect of stripping the buildings of the scintillating colors and neon flashiness that graced their walls and windows at night. Nhil-Rhar was a city that truly only came alive after the sun went down, although Shai could still see the occasional tweak hanging out on the street corners, braving the rain in the hopes of scoring a quick hit. The whores were harder to spot, mostly because they had the good sense to find shelter under the overhangs of the nearby buildings, but Shai was able to pick them out with ease.

It looked...innocent, from way up here. There’d been a time, he knew, when Nhil-Rhar had been a place of learning, of enrichment, a sprawling metropolis that had once been the technological marvel of the free world. Its citizens had made startling breakthroughs in science, medicine, art, engineering...any of a hundred areas that had been all but forgotten in recent years. Of course, that was before the Purge, when the city’s government had grown so large and so greedy for expansion that it collapsed under its own weight and splintered into the various factions that controlled the city today. Those areas of the city that weren’t of interest to the larger cartels fell into the grasp of various battling street gangs, each vying for control of the larger whole like scavengers picking apart the remains of a half-eaten carcass.

Ancient history.

Sometimes, Shai believed he could feel the echo of those early pioneers, pulsing like a heartbeat underneath the layers of grime and corruption that characterized the city today. There was still evidence of them out there if you looked hard enough: in the faint shadow of graceful architecture behind the garish paint and lights of the buildings, in the eerily symmetrical layout of the curving streets in the inner neighborhoods. Sometimes he felt almost physically aware of them, like seeing a shadow flickering at the edge of his vision—like they’d left footprints in the fabric of the city that even time couldn’t entirely rub away.

He was quite certain that didn’t happen to anyone but him.

It wasn’t the first impression he’d ever felt in that way, but it was the most disconcerting. Kind of like being haunted by a ghost from an alien world.... And it wasn’t just the city; he got impressions about people as well sometimes that didn’t seem to have anything to do with the people themselves. Like how he’d look at the occasional stranger and hear voices raised in an argument that wasn’t going on anywhere around him, or feel the ghost of remembered pain he knew he hadn’t ever experienced first-hand. It was truly eerie when it happened, although for the most part he managed to ignore it whenever it did. As far as he was concerned, he had a kind of heightened perception of things that others just...didn’t. The last time he’d mentioned it to anyone was to the priests in the orphanage where he’d spent his early years, and the subsequent beating and reduction in rations he’d received had convinced him never to bring it up to anyone, ever again.

Not feeling particularly hungry anymore, he stood up and shook off the droplets of rainwater that clung to the edges of his coat. There were days when he’d spend hours up here, just looking, but if he stayed outside any longer he’d get soaked through to the skin. He had better things to do than sit here and brood, and the memories that haunted him were particularly bad today.

Turning his mind deliberately away from them, he turned his back on the city and went inside.

Chapter 2: Hunted

Night fell across the city with the weight of a wet blanket, heavy and clinging and near suffocating in its inevitability. It peeled away the illusion of innocence that camouflaged Nhil-Rhar during the day, coming to life with the lurid shine of neon lights and the heady echo of raucous laughter. The hot press of bodies on the street vied to pursue the transient pleasures that gave their tawdry lives meaning for the brief span of time between sunset and sunrise.

Shai watched it come as the sunlight trickled away like blood seeping from an open wound. Already, there was a fairly good-sized crowd inside the nightclub, with the promise of more to come as the evening progressed. Loud technopunk music throbbed through the air, setting up a steady vibration against his eardrums that was as familiar as it was forgettable. The floor of the club gleamed glossy black under the scintillating glare of the lights, crossed by glistening trails of color reflected from the neon fixtures on the furniture.

He made his way around the edge of the floor to deliver a tray of drinks to table nine in the corner, deftly sidestepping a pair of giggling young women who were all but hanging off of each other as they made their way toward the bar. He liked the hectic atmosphere of the club, liked the way it got under his skin like an itch he couldn’t scratch. The music, the tension, the crowds, the lights.... There was an anonymity here that he couldn’t imagine finding anywhere else.

Anonymity was the breath of life to Shai. He’d learned from bitter experience how dangerous it could be for someone like him to draw attention to himself. He was a nonentity—a nobody, only as powerful as the allies he was able to make for himself. On the streets, he’d been a tempting target for muggers and rape gangs alike, although he’d gotten adept at avoiding both. Sadly enough, he’d turned out to be completely inept at picking pockets, which would have provided at least some kind of leverage in a world where money was the equivalent of power. Instead, he’d learned how to stay in the shadows, to blend in, so that the attention of the bigger and more powerful denizens of the city never had an excuse to turn his way.

Which was why it was more than a little disconcerting to find himself being stared at while he finished serving his latest order.

The girl looked like she couldn’t be a day older than twelve, although it was difficult to tell sometimes. Slim and willowy, with straight platinum blond hair hanging past her elbows, she looked as pale as a china doll and just about as fragile. The loose sleeves and fluid lines of her clothes marked her as New City, probably from out by the Arch, although she didn’t look as if she felt out of place here.

The tallish brown-haired man standing with his hand on her shoulder could have been her father, bodyguard, or pimp—there was really no telling. He looked even more innocuous than the girl did, with narrow features and thin metal spectacles perched on the end of a hooked nose. The wariness in his eyes told Shai he felt considerably less comfortable in this place than his young charge did.

Habit made Shai pretend he didn’t notice the scrutiny, although inwardly, his nerves were jangling. He ducked back into the crowd and did what he did best, which was make himself vanish completely. Even so, the memory of their gazes stayed with him—the girl’s in particular. And he couldn’t even say what about the pair had unnerved him; they certainly looked harmless enough. But he’d learned over the years not to ignore his instincts, and right now they were telling him to stay as far away from those two strangers as he possibly could.

He tried telling himself that there was nothing to worry about, that he was overreacting, and after a few minutes he’d almost managed to convince himself that his sudden panic had been entirely the result of his overactive imagination.

At least until he heard his name spoken by one of the club’s customers when he went back to the bar to fill his next order of drinks.

Caught off guard, he almost dropped the glass he was filling, but he managed to get himself under control before he gave any other visible reaction. Half-turning, he glanced up from under his bangs to see a tall, slim woman with rigidly spiked blond hair talking to one of Eli’s kids behind the bar. Her face was sharp-featured and unsmiling, with unnervingly intent grey eyes. The one-piece beige outfit she wore looked disturbingly military.

Shai had never seen the woman before in his life, but he knew instinctively that anyone who’d have a reason to be asking around for him so blatantly was not his friend. As casually as he could, he set the glass he held down and turned away from the bar.

He only got about three steps into the crowd before he ran into Eli. His boss’s normally genial face was pale behind the shadow of his beard, and there was something that looked like honest fear simmering deep in the backs of his eyes. Eli cast a quick look toward the bar before closing a hand around Shai’s arm and dragging him toward the edge of the dance floor, where they were marginally shielded by the sea of heaving, gesticulating bodies.

What’s going on? Shai demanded, fighting the urge to wrench his arm away and run as fast as his legs could carry him. Even after nearly two years of being off the streets, the old instincts were still there. Who’s looking for me?

Eli’s grip on his arm tightened, as if he sensed Shai’s reflexive urge to flee. Physically, Eli Steiner was an intimidating man, with a dark thatch of silvering black hair and a burly frame that had cowed more than one prospective adversary into rethinking the wisdom of crossing him. The thought that Eli could be afraid of anything was enough to set Shai’s nerves singing.

Agency sweepers, Eli said shortly, twisting Shai around to look at him. He cast another dark look back in the direction of the bar.

Shai stared at him, his mouth going dry. The Agency was what was left of the scientifically-oriented government that had ruled Nhil-Rhar in its earlier days, although they’d been forced to resort to criminal enterprise the same as anyone else in order to survive in the ensuing anarchy that followed the Purge. The militant branch of their organization were known as sweepers; they had a reputation for hunting down individuals in the city seemingly at random, for reasons known only to them.

As a general rule, the people targeted by the sweepers were never seen again. If there was one here looking for him....

But how? And why?

I want you to go upstairs. Eli’s tone was tense, but there was an edge of steel under it that Shai found oddly comforting. At least until they’ve gone. Ethan has enough sense not to tell them anything,—referring to the kid currently being interviewed at the bar—but just in case that isn’t enough for them, I don’t want you anywhere they might run into you.

Shai felt a sudden, unaccountable frisson of dread move through him as he stood there staring up into Eli’s eyes. The heat and noise of the club seemed to recede around him, and he somehow knew, without any doubt whatsoever, that there was no way he’d be able to stay hidden upstairs. The sweeper was here to find him, for whatever incomprehensible reason she had, and she wouldn’t stop looking until she found him. Even if that meant she had to tear Eli’s club down around his ears.

And Eli, for all his faults, was the closest thing to a father Shai had known in a great many years. Opportunistic and unprincipled though he may be, Eli had one redeeming characteristic, and that was that he was faultlessly loyal to the workers he chose to take under his wing. He wouldn’t turn Shai over to the Agency, even if it meant pitting himself against one of Nhil-Rhar’s most powerful ruling factions.

Okay, Shai said, even though he had no intention of doing any such thing. He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see the blond New City girl from earlier standing right behind him, although he couldn’t have said why. His heart was pounding.

Go. Eli gave him a small shove and then faded into the crowd, clearly intending to head back in the direction of the bar, where the sweeper was waiting.

And damn Eli anyway for being so stubborn. Didn’t he know protecting Shai would be the death of him? Feeling increasingly anxious, Shai moved around the edge of the dance floor toward the back stairs, knowing he didn’t dare chance using the main entrance if he wanted to leave the club unobserved.

He didn’t have a conscious plan in mind, but somehow it wasn’t a surprise when he saw Aaron’s whip-slender form emerge from the crowd in front of him. Yet another example of that eerie perception of his, as if he’d somehow known just where the other boy would be. Without stopping to think, he grabbed Aaron’s arm and pulled him back into the crowd.

Hey! Aaron’s reflexive protest died stillborn as he took in the tension in Shai’s expression. Instantly, the light in his eyes sharpened. What’s going on?

Sweepers, Shai said succinctly, casting a quick glance around to make sure he hadn’t been followed. It infuriated him that he could feel so vulnerable inside his own home. I need to get the hell out of here, Aaron.

Looking for you? Aaron looked stunned. "Why the fuck—"

"I don’t know. The anxiety Shai felt was like a living creature trying to crawl up out of his throat. I don’t know why, but I need to get out of here. I don’t want to use the front doors—"

Yeah. Aaron shook off his paralysis, glancing in the direction of the bar. We can get you out through the kitchen....

"I can’t go that way. The sweeper was at the bar asking for me. I don’t