by J. K. Holt
They were losing her to her own fury and grief.
Tess was not masochistic enough to seek out Rosie. They’d not seen each other since that morning, now weeks ago, when Rosie had saved her life. The same morning Loren had been smashed over the head by Fish. The morning Dray had almost been blurred.
This world was bonkers.
Tess didn’t long to go back to her own world. She didn’t miss her old school, or her old foster placements. Certainly not the detention center, in which she’d spent all of six hours before her own pain had enabled her to somehow transport herself here. She didn’t miss the way her grief would wrap itself around her like a scratchy, unwanted blanket, dragging behind her and pulling her downwards wherever she went. The only thing she missed was Maggie, but Maggie had been gone long before Tess left that world.
But Tess missed some semblance of sense. Of normalcy. Of knowing which way was up and which was down. Even with suspended belief about so many aspects of this world, she was beginning to feel yet again like nothing made sense. What was she doing, night after night, holding on to the spirit of a twisted soul? What was the endpoint here? Could any scenario really have a happy ending?
On top of that, there was absolutely no one to talk to about her loss of a compass. Dray knew one piece- what she’d done to save him, though he had no more idea than she did how. Gowan and Tulla knew another- that she wasn’t from this world. And she’d considered telling Gowan everything, but still, the truth of what happened with Dray felt so private that it didn’t seem right.
And she didn’t want to tell Dray the other bit because… well, she was afraid. Terrified that any trust they’d built, any promise of something yet to come, would be wiped clean with a revelation this large.
The whole ordeal made her feel dirty.
Several times a day, she reminded herself to stay focused. To isolate the one thing she could do to help with in that moment, to make herself useful. Which is why every night she would trudge back to the bakery, accept soup or some other meager sustenance, and sit with a man she hated.
Eventually, though, she had to admit that once again she was stuck and needed guidance from the only person who knew what she was up to. So on the sixth night of her vigil with Loren, she caught Dray’s arm as he was about to leave the shop and gave him a look. He nodded, understanding, and made quick excuses to Ashe before following her back down to the stock room.
They sat together near the door as Loren, breathing easier now, continued to lay prone across the far wall.
Tess kept her eyes on Loren as an excuse to not look Dray in the face. “Do you ever feel like kicking him?”
Dray harrumphed. “Only ten times a day. To be honest, I do take comfort in the fact that I might get to do it once he wakes up. Even if that does make me a bit of a monster.”
Tess heard the pain in his voice. “It doesn’t.”
“Do you still think he’ll wake up? He’s drinking more now. But honestly, I thought he would come to soon after you got him to swallow that soup.”
“Me too,” Tess admitted. She shifted her eyes to the floor and turned in his direction. “I agree with your evaluation- I don’t think he has any physical injuries keeping him from waking at this point. And his consciousness, or at least what I can get through to, seems- I don’t know, intact enough.”
“So what’s the issue?”
She frowned, her brows drawing together as she considered. “I don’t know. I wonder if he’s committed to really returning fully to this place. I’m not sure how to word it.”
Dray met her gaze. “Try?”
She considered for a moment as she pulled her knees into a cross legged position. She shrugged. “This whole thing is just a total gamble. I feel like I’m walking this tightrope with Loren, trying to fool him into thinking I’m someone else, this person who loves him, or at least admires him. But I have none of the information I need to actually trick him. And I have this suspicion that the closer he comes to regaining consciousness, the more aware his thoughts will become. Which, in a way is good, because I might be able to actually get some information from him. But he’s also probably more likely to realize I’m not who I’m pretending to be. He could shut down entirely.”
“It’s worth the risk.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.” Dray was decisive. “We don’t have any other choice. It’s a gamble, you’re right. But if you don’t take it, he’ll fade eventually. He can’t live off of a few sips of broth forever. And if you try, and it fails, maybe you’ll still have pulled him from this…whatever kind of trance he’s in. Once he’s out of that, maybe he’ll cooperate with us once he sees what he’s up against. Or if he doesn’t, we can try to pull the information from him another way.”
“Meaning what? You can’t you mean torture?” Tess asked. She couldn’t hide the look of disgust that crossed her features, and Dray caught it too.
“I don’t know, Tess. Maybe I do mean that. I just know that this madness has to stop. We can’t keep living like this, wondering who is going to get blurred next, or disappear into the ocean.” Dray shot Loren a contemptuous glare. “And think of what he did to you, without any compulsion. He would have done worse.”
“I know that,” Tess said, shuddering. “It’s not that he doesn’t deserve it. He does.” She drew her brows together, considering. “I think you misunderstood my reaction, Dray. I don’t care about what happens to Loren. Not really, though I’ll admit the thought of torturing someone makes me queasy. The reason I don’t want you to torture him is because of what it will do to you. Seriously, you’re already the biggest martyr I know. Everything you’ve seen, and had to endure. And the things you’ve had to do- it all comes back to you. It’s poisoning you. And if you had to hurt Loren like that, even if it felt justified… you’d carry it with you. I just don’t want you to have to live with that. At some point in time- well, I think it might break you.”
Dray looked away at her words, the truth of them catching him out. “It wouldn’t have to be me.”
“Yes, it would. Ashe, Emme, and I don’t have it in us. I don’t think your mom does, either, much as she acts the part of ice queen sometimes. Fish hates Loren but still might love him a little too, so he can’t. And Rosie would gladly do it, but for vengeance. It would change her too, just like it would change you. And she’s already close to the edge. It would have to be you. And that’s what I can’t stomach.”
Dray pulled at a strand of thread from his pant leg, absently twirling it around his pinkie before tugging it loose. He rubbed the thread into a ball before dropping it on the floor, and then surprised Tess by reaching for her hand and squeezing it. He leaned forward, his face a foot from her own, and waited until she met his gaze.
“I hear you, but Tess- it doesn’t matter. If it changed me, it changed me, and that would be that. Don’t you see? It’s worth it, to me. It’s worth the risk. And I’d be sorry if that meant it made me less of a person you’d want to be around, but I’d still do it. That’s my choice. Just like what you do next is yours.”
He stood, pulling her up with him, and cut Tess off before she could argue. “-Just, pray it doesn’t come to that. If you can’t pull information from him, maybe he’ll just die. Maybe that would be best.”
∞ ∞ ∞
Once she made the plan, Tess moved quickly. If she stopped to think about it, she would reconsider, think of the risks, and second-guess herself.
She made certain she was alone with Loren, closing the door firmly behind her. She took a deep breath and then knelt beside him, grabbing his hair and jerking his head to hers. She hoped he could feel it. She closed her eyes and reached for him roughly with her mind. Come here! You’re needed. We are running out of time.
She’d had practice at this now. His presence came willingly enough, quicker than before, even, and with it his confusion; she pushed it aside, as an uncaring adult might dismiss a whining child. They are close, too close. I need to know what you know, befo
re it’s too late.
Too late? Who is too close? He responded. I don’t… what information?
Everything you have. I need confirmation that the information I’m receiving is correct. I need you to tell me what you know. Tess kept her thoughts authoritative, channeling her inner school marm. And I need it now.
Loren’s consciousness responded in a way it hadn’t before. Nearly deferential in nature, and timid in response. But, there’s so much to share. Maybe if you could tell me specifically-
No time! I’ve told you this already. She thought back. Open your thoughts to me- I’ll sift through them for myself and decide what’s important.
Loren was still uncertain, almost recalcitrant in the feelings she caught back, his response wheedling. I can’t just-
You can, and you will. Prove that you are still someone of value, that you can still help me, or I will leave you here to rot. I swear to you, I will leave you. She let the words hang there, and then forced herself to follow through, moving to pull away from him.
Wait! he thought. Don’t go.
Tess halted her retreat and hung there in the silence, allowing him the chance to change his mind. Pushing him any further felt like the wrong move. She counted to ten, to slow her thinking and keep her from being hasty while in the space between.
Then, unbelievably, he began to open himself to her, his thoughts and feelings appearing before her as threads that glimmered, tenuously.
It felt immediately familiar, an experience as singular as she’d ever known. Though while it was similar to entering Dray’s mind, it was qualitatively different as well. With Dray, he’d been there, willing and open to finding and retrieving his memories and the emotions interwoven with them. Loren was allowing her access, but grudgingly, and out of fear instead of trust. The threads around her seemed raw, angry, like the product of an abused animal rather than a fully functioning human.
Perhaps this is exactly what she should have expected to find inside someone like Loren. It felt dirty to be here, to be asked to see and touch what she needed. She had no idea what else Loren had done, what he was capable of. Did she really want to see it all?
But she was here now. What she needed might be in her grasp. There was no choice to be made here, only a need to move forward. Tess pushed aside her dismay at entering his mind more fully, and allowed herself to take hold of him. Take what you need, then, he thought at her. She caught one more feeling of him that smarted of an old wound, but ignored it.
She reached out to the nearest scarlet thread. It burned slowly as she held it, but she kept hold long enough to see a blurry image of childhood. A young boy clamoring for the attention of a woman (mother, maybe?), who remained aloof and involved in something out of view. The boy was Loren, she could tell that much, though almost everything else was blurry.
Tess had no interest in searching through Loren’s early memories, though the armchair psychologist did wonder what kind of childhood would create a creature like him. It wasn’t relevant or helpful, so she let the thread go. She reached again.
-another memory from childhood. Irrelevant, so she released it. Tried again.
-him as a young adolescent, studying over some book while candles shone in the background. His expression was pained, but intent.
Tess’s irritation did not need to be faked. She let it leak out. This is not what I need.
I don’t know what you need! He nearly shouted back, his own frustration echoing in his subconscious, and Tess flinched.
She would need to guide him more. But what could she ask about more specifically?
Wharfton. What have you learned?
More strings. She reached for one, catching an image now of the town from the ocean. Loren was on board the Blackbirder, speaking with someone- the captain, by the looks of his uniform. And there was another man- she knew him! He’d been the one to interrogate her…Winslow! That was his name.
The three of them were engaged in some argument. She couldn’t pick up on all the words. Tess considered fleetingly as she watched it unfold that perhaps she could only see as much of it as Loren could remember as well. Less like a perfect movie, more like the reflection of an image, blurry from disuse and possibly changed due to time. She tried to focus the picture, but couldn’t. Snippets came. They were arguing about the Sea Dimple- the old fishing spot south of the town that the gang had hypothesized to be some sort of important location to the lampreys- it had been the location blamed for the sick fish that caused the Blue Plague, though they now knew it to be nothing of the sort. The lampreys, and Loren, were behind it.
Tess pulled herself back to the memory at hand. Loren wanted to return to the Dimple, but the captain was arguing that it was too dangerous. Something about unwanted attention from the locals? She couldn’t pull it together more than that.
Tess pulled back and grabbed the nearest floating memory, remembering that the closer ones were often related to whatever she had just been viewing.
-Loren, reading a message. He crumpled it and glared out the nearest porthole.
What is this? She asked into his consciousness. Certainly something that would tick him off might be helpful information.
He made another memory available. Him, hiding in the dark with other men. The location seemed familiar but it was hard to tell in the near blackness. They were moving now, shifting. One of them had caught something. No, caught someone. Tess heard a scream and pulled back from the shock, dropping the memory in her haste.
It was her. It was when Loren and his thugs had abducted her from the Muddy Gull.
Loren sent her a questioning thought, surprised at her reaction. Tess had to pull herself together fast, before he caught her feelings. Be cold, ice. Who is this? Why is she important?
Another memory. She guessed what it would be this time, and braced herself accordingly. Even so, it was hard to watch the scene unfold on the Blackbirder. Herself, gagging on her own bile, pulled from the floor like trash, interrogated by Loren and Mr. Winslow. To keep herself from reliving the experience too vividly, she instead focused on opening herself to feelings from Loren.
She caught a whiff of disdain, like the business of hurting people was beneath his paygrade. She also felt suspicion, directed towards her. Tess waited, intent on staying with the memory as long as she could. There might be helpful information.
Eventually, Loren had pulled out his device (the same one now in her possession), pushed it to the back of her skull, and pressed the button. Tess watched, but from his point of view it didn’t seem the same as when she’d seen Russ be blurred.
What was different? The orb had glowed as it had absorbed Russ’s aura, swirling like a miniature galaxy contained in a marble. In this memory, the orb seemed less vivid. Not so alive- much more mundane. Could it be because Loren couldn’t see auras as she could? Come to think of it, no one from his memories had them…nor any from Dray’s. Because she was seeing their world from his perspective. It made sense.
So maybe this is what it looked like to Loren when he blurred someone. In the memory, Tess had passed out, and Loren left the room, moving purposefully through the ship until he entered another small room containing a bed, small drawers, and a writing desk. She recognized the space from his previous memory- there was the porthole he’d stood next to as he’d read the message that frustrated him. He opened a small drawer within the desk and retrieved a leather-bound bundle, unsealing it to reveal dozens of the small marbles. He pulled the one from the back of his machine, holding it above the bag for a second as he stared off into space before dropping it in with the rest. He then pulled a different bag, containing seemingly identical marbles, and placed one into the machine.
This was something. It looked like the device needed a new marble every time to work. Much as a gun needed a new bullet to fire.
He had moved now, and Tess was about to let go of the memory and move on, but she caught herself. He’d returned to her that night, one more time. Sure enough, he was heading back,
grabbing Bram from his position of guard at the door.
It was jarring to see a man before her who was now dead, by Dray’s hand. Loren and Bram reentered the room, looking down at Tess, still lying prone on the floor. Tess knew she’d been faking this time, just having regained consciousness. Loren nudged her, hard, then kicked her. He was still skeptical of her, doubtful that she had been blurred. He was right to be, of course, but Tess couldn’t tell how he’d known.
What is it about this girl? She thought to him.
Different. Special. She might be a piece to what we’re looking for.
How do you know?
The opprimer didn’t work on her.
Was that the name of his blurring machine? She thought to him- You’re certain?
Tess felt herself pulled from the memory, as another floated closer, almost like Loren was providing it. She grasped it, pulled back into Loren’s memory and body. He was in town, lying in wait. Dray and Tess appeared, followed by Fish. Loren twinged at the sight of Fish, some hidden pain perhaps, then grew cold again. See? She’s there again, later. After I used the opprimer.
Tess knew the fight that followed- it was what had landed Loren here in this room, unconscious and recovering from injuries. This memory would provide no further information. She pulled away, but maintained her hold in his consciousness.
She wasn’t sure what to ask next that wouldn’t give her away. But she felt him tugging at her, the question lingering- is this what you wanted?
You’ve done well. She thought to him, still aloof in her manner.
A thought occurred to her- another gamble. Is there any information I can provide you with in return?
She could feel Loren considering. Are you progressing with your research?
