A Division of Souls - A Novel of the Mendaihu Universe

by Jon Chaisson

CHAPTER TWELVE

  Alien Relations Unit, Branden Hill HQ

  Caren closed her eyes and leaned heavily against the wall of the debriefing room foyer, physically and emotionally drained. An air vent overhead blew a cool breeze onto her face and pushed away the beads of sweat from her forehead. She relished its calming, distractive effect on her nerves, letting her forget her surroundings for the moment. She’d never liked the Questioning part of her job—interrogating the suspect or being interrogated for a case herself, the process was absolute hell for everyone involved.

  Goddess…how did I get to this point?

  She cursed quietly at the predicament she now faced. If she had been any more aggravated by the attack at St. Patrick's Cathedral, it would most likely have been directed at her parents instead of at the Shenaihu. She knew that to be a pointless gesture, as she could not will herself to do so. Through her blood she would always be irrevocably tied to battles against the Shenaihu. The innate knowledge of the Mendaihu soul welled within her, waiting to be brought out. To curse her parents' mission was a pointless gesture; to curse her parents' heritage was to curse at her own soul.

  Mendaihu sehndayen-ne, she thought. Teachers of the faith. Priests in their own right. Aram and Celine were, among other things, dedicated and ordained teachers of the Mendaihu faith in the Universal One. The dedication to their faith and the Bridgetown community gave her a sense of fierce pride. Pride, which the Mendaihu never relied on.

  She smirked, remembering her father’s words regarding that deadly sin. Pride is all well and good, Karinna, but the minute you rely on it, you're dead. Faith is the real energy; pride is just the sugarcoating.

  To hell with this frustration, she was damn proud of her parents! They had saved many a soul while serving on the Alien Relations Unit, just as she had. They had taught her, and many others, the way of the Mendaihu, and how to harness and utilize the powers in the energies of the universe. But was she honestly Mendaihu? Even with the training and her bloodright, was she even worthy of the name? Being Mendaihu was a tone of being she felt she had to earn rather than inherit, and she was a hell of a long way from reaching that goal. Today’s events were proof of that: she had not been prepared at all for any of it. But who could have been?

  What did you do to us, Nehalé?

  If she were any other person in this city, she would be terrified of these Shenaihu right now. This was not an army, or some ragtag group of self-professed revolutionaries, bent on political overthrow. This was not some jacker gang like Vigil, who sought repentance by way of anarchy and disruption within the corporate system. And this was not a religious crusade. Far, far from it. It was not a display of revolutionary zealotry.

  Like the Mendaihu, the Shenaihu were a spiritual force transcending political boundaries. In many ways they were very much like the Mendaihu, and not just in spiritual presence. Their reality was beyond the normal limits of human and Meraladian life. They could look through the mind of an innocent, straight into the very soul within. They craved inner meaning, far past the tangible possessions and short-term stimulation of the modern worlds. Like the Mendaihu, as with so many other spiritual followers, the Shenaihu passion to achieve their spiritual goal was unyielding: redemption within the Universes, to retain the knowledge they once had as eternal souls in the ether and lost upon becoming real in this universe.

  So alike, yet so utterly, unchangeably different.

  She knew she should be terrified of them, knowing what they could do. They’d caused death and chaos during the last Embodiment. And they had killed her parents five years ago, leaving her an emotional and spiritual wreck. And today, they had killed recently awakened Mendaihu at the church and who knew how many other places. Forcibly taken spirits from their bodies and ended their physical lives, without remorse. And it was all in response to Nehalé Usarai’s ritual.

  But she wasn't scared of the Shenaihu.

  In fact, she understood them all too well, and that terrified her. Like Poe, she was a seasoned profiler, and it was second nature to learn how to think like the other, no matter who they were. She needed to release this fear, before it was too late. She needed to tell someone what she understood about the Shenaihu. She felt it strongly, wordlessly, within her soul, begging to come out. She had tried a number of times with Poe without success, though she blamed herself for her inability to find the right words. She did not get much farther with Farraway. She hadn't had the time or place to sit down with Sheila, her ex-partner and once close confidant, but the temptation grew stronger daily since the Nehalé’s ritual.

  Inside the debriefing room, she could hear the clamor of Sheila's voice filling the room. That girl was never one to go quietly when asked, and had fought against Questioning all the way. For perhaps the fourth time, she described the visit to Nehalé Usarai's apartment and what she had sensed there; the call to the cathedral and what she had witnessed and sensed; the aftermath and her own personal reactions. Inspector Farraway, cold and distant as usual, listened without interruption.

  Next door, Poe was taking Nick through a less intense line of repeated questioning. Caren felt sorry for him...for both men, actually. Nick had joined this ragtag department of oddities and misfits nearly two years ago — he had requested a transfer from South City Metro Police, and in that span of time, the most he'd ever seen was a small riot caused by neo-antialienists in the Waterfront District. If Nick walked after what he’d seen, Caren would not stop him.

  Sheila finished first, exiting the room and cursing under her breath. She paused in the doorway, rubbing her eyes and shaking her head, frustrated and angry, yet accepting the interview with grudging acceptance. Her sensing abilities had been maxed out twice in the same afternoon, and the exhaustion showed on her face and body. Lifting her eyes, she saw Caren and offered a weak smile. Farraway abruptly cut between them with barely an acknowledgement, and walked away silently towards the back stairway. No doubt he was just as pissed off.

  “Hey,” Sheila said, her voice soft and weak. She stood close, too close. Caren hadn’t expected the proximity and shifted.

  “Uh...hey,” she said nervously. “You okay?”

  Sheila gave her a noncommittal shrug. Her energy had peaked some time ago, and she was not taking the crash too well. She wavered, but only slightly, as she stood. She touched Caren on the shoulder and squeezed. “Yeah,” she breathed. “I'm cool. Thanks for being there.” She moved forward and embraced her. “You saved me yet again.”

  Yet again. Goddess, she’d forgotten about this feeling, this nervousness. Years ago, before they were both ARU agents. Caren awkwardly circled her arms around her, countless memories flooding back, the emotions behind them struggling to escape. She had forgotten the sensation, the closeness that she had felt with Sheila. She had never been afraid of this unconditional love she had for those closest to her, and especially those she worked with and had cared about for close to ten years...yet something was missing now. A dark chasm, partly due to the loss of her parents and partly her self-imposed distance, had opened between herself and nearly everyone she knew. Sheila, who had once been her longest and closest friend, now seemed a dreamlike oasis of serenity she could not permit herself to approach, only to view from afar.

  She was almost unaware that Sheila had been crying into her shoulder.

  “Shhh....hey,” she whispered into her hair. Words she had meant to keep inside slipped out: “Hey, kiddo. You're still my sehnadha. Don't go losing it on me.”

  A sob that could have been a laugh was her response. Caren drew her in, caressing her protectively. Goddess, how I miss this... They embraced, longer and closer, this time without the wall of distance. Sheila pulled away first, but only to look at her straight on. She half-hid a devilish grin behind the palm that wiped away her tears.

  “…sehnadha, huh?” she laughed. “Haven't heard you call me that in a long time.”

  Caren found hers
elf blushing, but couldn't do anything to cover it. They were still close friends, even after a five-year absence of emotion. She admitted to herself that she did miss her, terribly.

  “My shadhisi,” Sheila whispered, winking at her.

  Caren couldn't help but laugh, a secret joke between them. She did miss her, more than she could ever possibly show her, but those emotions had been from another time, another place entirely. The most she could do now was remain loyal and caring, and Sheila had accepted that. She drew her into another embrace. “Hey,” she whispered into her ear. “I'm just glad you're alive, girl.”

  “Me too, kiddo.” She pushed her out of the foyer and into the main hallway. “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat.”

  “Fine time to think about eating,” Caren teased. “We’d better use the cafeteria…it looks like Farraway is fixing to haul us into another team meeting.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me,” she said. “He’d just about had enough Telling for one day, by the looks of things.”

  Caren sensed there were unspoken words, and stopped her in the middle of the hallway. “What did Farraway ask you?”

  “Nothing…” she shrugged. “Nothing important, really. Just wondering if…”

  Caren nodded. “…wondering if you and Nick were comfortable with this case, right?”

  Sheila did not look surprised at all. “Yeah. That’s the gist of it. He was so hard-assed about it at first, at least with Nick and me…now he’s all over us, making sure we’re safe and sound. Almost sounds as if he’s covering his own butt.”

  Caren shook her head quickly. “If he can ask about me and mention my parents all in one go, he’s definitely not hiding anything. Protecting us, maybe, but hiding for his own safety?” She shook her head again, pushing off towards the cafeteria again. “Not a chance.”

  Sheila wasted no time picking up the cue. “So what would he be protecting us from, if he were in fact doing so?”

  “I wish I knew,” she lied.