The next day, Tanya’s cheeks were still salty with tears, but everything felt a little bit clearer. It was tempting to fall to pieces, fret about her Mum and her brother, and to sit glued to the news all day as if a saviour would swoop in and save them. The headlines today stated that wasn’t the case:

  “Whitechapel gang holds citizens hostage from outside help.”

  She’d skimmed through it brushing her teeth. The water worked so she reasoned she might as well use it for now. The heading was incredibly misleading, one of the gang members had developed some sort of monster hybrid powers and was taken for testing against his will. A mugshot later identified him as Undercut—the man who had spent the whole time on her arcade machine. She agreed with them preventing cops from entering until she saw a photograph of all the police they’d killed. Their bodies and some other civilians had been used to block one of the roads in Whitechapel. She turned her phone off after that.

  Tanya had survived so far, even against someone both a higher level, and with a group to back them up. Gaining more power— that was essential to guarantee her safety. The news was still plugging its anti-powers spiel, but Tanya thought that if her powers were going to kill her, they would have already. Smaller sites had been revealing all sorts of people using their powers to save others too.

  She checked her boiler and the water was still warm which was a pleasant surprise. The electricity was still working too. She made a mental note to work out how to keep her tattoo gun working if it went out. There was a generator in the back but it was still finite and would only last about 10 hours of tattooing she’d guess, give or take.

  Her phone battery needed to be rationed too. She should only use it plugged in. That way it would be full if they lost power. She pushed past the string of beads into her living room and her heart twinged at the same scene as last night.

  You’re gonna be strong. Once you got a plan, you can do anything.

  Grabbing bread from the bin, she slathered it in cheese. Before trying out her new Abilities she’d work out exactly how long she could last here. Bread and cheese was a good start, both perishable so she’d only have them a few more days. She munched on her breakfast as she emptied all of the cupboards. Most of the fridge items had dates written down in whiteboard marker on her fridge. Otherwise, she’d forget to finish them in time. But the cupboards were a whole different kettle of fish. She swore she hadn’t seen half of these tins since she moved in.

  Most of them were still in date so she added them to a master list. Her last grocery run was only a couple of days ago so as long as the fridge held out she’d be okay. The little notebook of scribblings turned into a bunch of papers stuck together as she worked out different ways of fitting the meals together. She settled on two plans, one for if she was lucky and could keep things cold and another for when it died. Starting on the frozen stuff was a plan either way, the further in she got the less she’d have to binge when it turned off. She needed to balance spreading it out with the risk of wasting food.

  If she was lucky she could pace this to last two weeks before she’d be out. It would be down to one week if the electricity died and that was including a couple of days of being very hungry at the end.

  With a long list and a pile of food all over her dining table, it was finally time to go back to the shop. She hadn’t realised until it was time, but maybe she’d been procrastinating a bit. Organising food was easy. She’d done plenty of food drives growing up or preparing for the ever-rainy camping trips her parents arranged. They said it was to be one with nature but she always knew it was all they could afford.

  The door downstairs taunted her. When had her machine ever scared her? Even on her first day as a mentor for the man who never smiled, she was desperate to pick it up. Flashes of the snake pulsed through her mind; its eye, slithering between the brothers, its fangs caught in her arm. She was confident in her ability, she always had been. Even with the nerves of her first time on skin, she knew exactly how it would feel and that she’d put the work in. She had no idea what this tattoo would be capable of, or what it should be.

  That wasn’t even the worst part. She wasn’t comfortable testing it on anyone else so she’d have to tattoo herself. It was a line she’d never crossed before. Lots of her friends had smudged old-timey tattoos hidden under jeans or long sleeves, only to be shown a few drinks under. Tanya had never seen the point before, pain was a distraction, and tattoos were best served with single-mindedness.

  She pondered through all the reasons she refused to tattoo herself whilst tying her docs. There was a bead of blood on the toe. She wiped it off.

  The staircase down to the street smelled musty like always. Today, the street seemed louder, filled with obnoxious birds tweeting right outside her bedroom window and distant screaming. She even caught the sound of her first faraway siren since Adder had entered her shop.

  Creaking as quietly as possible, she opened the door to the street. It had only been overnight but she welcomed the fresh air with a deep inhale. She’d taken a full step out before she saw her; a middle-aged lady. She might have known her, or perhaps the lady simply had one of those faces. Her bindi was stark red against her ashy brown skin. Tanya could tell from a single look that she hadn’t slept in days. She was going to back into the door and try and shut it without her noticing but her eyes locked onto the movement. The lady sprinted over.

  What should I do?

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  You don’t know what powers she’s got. Get in the shop.

  Tanya averted her gaze. Speed-walking towards her metal cover, she unlocked it. She struggled with the key.

  Shit.

  She didn’t need to turn around to know the lady was gaining on her. Without so much as a weapon, this could go wrong very quickly.

  Tanya, if you make it outta this, never go anywhere without a weapon.

  Tanya rose to face her, deciding it was safer to stand and prepare than be caught from behind.

  The lady was younger than Tanya expected up close, late thirties with scared brown eyes and tears flowing down her round face. She was even shorter than Tanya, something Tanya wasn’t used to. Under any other circumstance, Tanya would have approached her with a bright smile and touched her arm absent-mindedly to check-in. This was one of her neighbours after all, and a safe-looking one at that. Tanya hated how whatever was happening had taken away her trust in people.

  The lady gripped Tanya’s hands desperately and Tanya backed away slightly.

  Necrosis? Dark magic? Fire?

  More tears dripped down the lady’s cheeks. She respected the distance, taking a step back and then getting onto her knees and begging. The sari on her top half trailed along the floor and blood and beer seeped through the fabric of her blue jeans. The lady was lucky she didn’t get glass stuck in her from the bottle, although Tanya sensed she wouldn’t care if she did.

  “Please, please help me. I’m begging. I know you have no reason to trust me. I’ll do anything. It’s my son. He’s just a boy. Please.” She had a London accent with a hint of something Indian, like she’d moved when she was a child.

  Tanya weighed her options. She shouldn’t trust a random woman after what happened with Adder, but if she was telling the truth, Tanya wasn’t sure she could forgive herself for not helping a little boy.

  “Do you have a class?” Tanya asked. If time was of the essence this could be bad for the boy, but she had to make sure she was safe first.

  “No, I don’t, but my son—“ she cried.

  “System, can she prove it?” Tanya pressed, desperation flooding her voice. She really wanted to help her.

  Error: Insufficient information for response.

  She raced through ways she could prove this wasn’t a lie. Part of her wanted to say to hell with it and follow her, but being in close quarters she’d not been in before was too risky. An idea sparked in her mind.

  Can you set up pacts for when—or if—someone’s worthy down the line?

  She felt a pause and then the presence of the voice. This wasn’t the automatic response she’d had today, this was bigger. She’d forgotten how this felt, the somewhat crushing weight of eyes too large to fathom.

  Searching…

  Yes, there is no reason for the contrary.

  It was going to be okay. She could do this.

  “I’m so sorry,” Tanya started. "But I need you to swear you’ll let me see yer Interface when ya get one. If the pact works, I’ll know you’re tellin’ the truth."

  The lady nodded wildly. “How? How?”

  “Me number’s 10056. Use the word pledge.” Tanya’s voice wavered saying her number. She hated every part of this. She wasn’t sure how she’d cope if she got in there and the boy was already dead, or worse.

  “I’m Ishita Priya Sharma and I pledge Number 10056 to see my interface if I get one…“ Her voice broke and she started sobbing. “She can have anything she wants. Please.”

  Tanya’s heart fluttered and her stomach dropped. Ishita had no idea what she’d done, the amount of power she’d just given her.

  “Please. Please come.” Ishita took Tanya by the arm again, pulling her further down the street.

  Tanya could have broken out easily, but she let herself be led.

  System, what pacts do I have?

  * * *

  Pacts

  Number 43

  Joseph Adder Patterson

  Pledges no harm of any kind to 10056 or any ally.

  Pledges information that would help her.

  Number N/A

  Ishita Priya Sharma

  Pledges anything 10056 wants.

  Automatic Interface retrieval when activated.

  Would you like to see the exact pact wording?

  * * *

  No.

  Her eyes kept moving to Ishita: anything 10056 wants.

  She had no idea how enforceable that even was, not that she wanted to find out.

  Ishita led her to a small brick walkway going above an empty shop. Tanya braced for whatever she’d find inside. If she squinted it was a lovely family home full of pictures and beautiful Indian rugs, but everything was shattered with holes in walls and glass scattering the floor. Every light had a pile of glass underneath it; not a single bulb was intact. What caused this?

  Ishita ran through the small corridor into a bedroom where she spoke in a language Tanya didn’t understand. Her voice was soft but panicked. Tanya sped up to follow her.

  That’s when she saw the boy. The room was so dark that at first there was just a hand reaching out of the wall. It was so small, with pudgy fingers full of tension, like it was trying to will itself out. Ishita grabbed his hand, pulling and pulling. It did nothing. Blackness was inching up his arm so slowly Tanya could barely see it move, but every time she looked again, more of his arm had been consumed. Where was the rest of him?

  She adjusted to the gloom. There was a darker patch of shadow than the rest of the room around it. It was the shape of a boy, small and chubby and desperately trying to pull himself off the wall. He was two-dimensional and his arm was all that was left remaining tangible. It hung in the air in front of him, pulled again and again, to no avail, by a desperate mother.