Eddie lowered his head, set his gaze on the ground, and hoped he wasn’t playing the part of an absolute fool.
He walked slowly, staying close to the flickers and pulses of air that suggested a man’s shape, and as Eddie passed a boy—maybe eight, maybe ten, who stared in rapt, almost lusty appreciation at the security officers in uniform—Eddie stare directly into the boy’s eyes. His presence didn’t seem to register on the boy’s face at all.
He can’t see me. This close, with Eddie’s gaze drilling into him, and the boy was either unable to see or unable to comprehend what his eyes were detecting.
Send the right signal, activate the right cluster of cells in the human brain, and voila. “Nobody’s home,” Eddie whispered. He was immediately hushed, and though the man’s words were nothing more than a whisper, the tone was insistent. Maybe they couldn’t be seen, but they could sure as hell be heard.