Secret Keeper

My name is Beaumont Sinclair, but most people only know me as Beau. I work almost full-time at a hole-in-the-wall pub called 'T's' named after its owner. It's a pretty good job, even if I am mostly a dish-pig- twenty-one is still the legal drinking age, so I can't serve for a few more years yet, but T is good with me cleaning tables and scrubbing glasses. I'm cheap labour for the things he hates to do and I don't scare easily.

It has been almost two human generations since The Breach, that's almost two hundred years for them to get used to the fact that we are here and staying. There are still some factions that preach the purist message, insight discrimination against those who are anything but strictly human. That isn't a high population these days.

T's is officially human friendly but there are few purebloods in our area, they prefer the safe heights of their exclusive towers. The less kind would call us freaks, or they did in the beginning. From what I learned in school, humankind has always had to have someone to hate, even if was a different shade of their same species. The Breach, the collapse of the thin, invisible veils keeping the human and otherworldly planes apart, only gave them their next target.

We are just as resilient as humankind, though, and we freaks, otherworlders, supernaturals, have carved out a place in their world- we've reshaped it, in fact. From what I understand, the supernaturals have inhabited the human plane for longer than even the humans know, inconspicuous, hiding, living amongst them, with them. After The Breach, when all things supernatural and magic were revealed, stripped to their core, there was no hiding or blending in. It was just luck that the majority of humankind had evolved enough not to demand immediate and outright death of all supernaturals. It also helped that we had come out in such numbers that every other person knew someone who was, to some degree, a supernatural. Nobody wanted to have to cull half their street, plus their friends' kids, not when there were other options.

I can't say from first-hand experience, but the old ones say that the timing of The Breach was as good as it could have been in terms of the development of humankind; any earlier and they would have panicked and possibly massacred anyone who even almost resembled a supernatural, any later and their technology might have been so over-developed that they could have decided that they were superior and tried to enslave or capture us- that would not have ended well either. As it was, governments had warily looked on the situation as if we were visiting from another country, rather than another plane. Trade agreements were drawn up, laws and guidelines followed. Soon, there were even supernatural lawyers to represent our kind and serve the justice system.

That was all way before my time, of course, but schools think it's important to our history- they're probably right- so it's drilled into out skulls like all the human history before it. I left school last year, graduating as a second tier. There was the option to continue study to achieve first tier, but school was never my favourite place. Second tier would let me take on a job that was necessary, paid well and kept food in my belly. First tier was reserved for those interested in biomechanics, inter-plane politics and high-stakes medicine.

My Da was three quarters fae and my Ma was a descendant of a wind spirit by the name of Sematu, so I'm more supernatural than not. The offspring of different supernaturals aren't so rare anymore and my generation is the latest and greatest at developing new, unexpected abilities. Mine? I'm a secret keeper. I can look at anyone and know, right away, what secrets they hold in their heart of hearts. There are quite a few secrets that harm no one, like sneaking a second piece of chocolate cake on occasion, then there are loud, pushy secrets busting to get out and change lives. Sometimes, it's all I can do to button my lips to stop them falling out.

When I was younger, I didn't understand why secrets were supposed to be kept. Blurting out questions got me into more trouble than not, until I learned to keep my mouth shut. I learned that it was inappropriate to ask my Da's friend why he went to bed with another man when his wife was out, and that the woman in the shops didn't want to hear that I was sorry she was so sad and alone. Everyone has something to hide, some secret. I get to hear them all.