Bright Star

by Grayson Reyes-Cole

  That knife would have cut him very badly had he been a regular little boy. But at that point, before he’d started training for the Service, his mother hadn’t understood how far his Talent ran. She hadn’t known that she couldn’t hurt him. No. In the last minute, she had used a Shift to deflect the knife. Rush had never even looked up from what he’d been doing. Rush hadn’t saved him that time. His mother had.

  “Did you know?” Jackson demanded.

  “Know what?” Rush asked truly bewildered.

  “Know about Mom?”

  Rush had started to turn away but he slowed his movements. His eyes focused on Jackson’s as he grasped for his brother’s memory. “I had a good idea.”

  “You never said anything.”

  “No.” Rush leaned back against the wall. There were dark smudges under his eyes. Stubble shadowed his jaw. There were beads of perspiration on his upper lip. He slid down the wall to the floor with his knees bent in front of him.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Please make her leave.”

  For an instant, the new memory still fresh, Jackson believed Rush to be talking about their mother. But he wasn’t. Jackson took in the sight of his brother who wore fatigue and frustration like a badge. Rush’s appearance was as he saw it normally, but Jackson remembered what he really looked like. He was again amazed by what he had missed over the years. He couldn’t process it. He couldn’t. Instead, he focused again on the issue at hand.

  “Please tell me why.”

  The woman of discussion appeared in the doorway to the roof. Her bright blue eyes glowed and she smelled like fresh gardenias as she walked past Jackson. She squatted in front of Rush with her arms around her knees. They were eye to eye. “I’ve searched the world over and now I’ve found you, love,” she sang softly. Rush said nothing but returned her unwavering gaze. “Jacob Rush, I am your servant.”

  “Really?” Rush asked dryly. Jackson almost identified a smirk on his lips. “Then tell my brother why you’re here and why I want you gone.”

  Bright Star stood and approached Jackson with careful steps. She followed Rush’s direction. “Your brother has been given a very beautiful gift.”

  “Yes,” Jackson stated just as dryly in a voice much like his brother’s. “I know. He reminded me of it just moments ago.”

  “Yes,” she agreed with a soft nod. “You saw what he has done in this world so far. His Talent is more than just the power you have seen. Silly little Shifts that change a room, light a match, bend a spoon. He has the power of life. But it’s much, much more than that.”

  “Again, I say, I’m aware.”

  “No, Jackson, I’m afraid you don’t understand.”

  “But—”

  “Leave it alone, Jackson,” Rush said, standing. “Leave it alone. I thought I wanted her to tell you, but I don’t. I didn’t realize how… Never mind. I’m going to bed. You can sit out here all night if you want, Jacks, but I’m going to bed.” At the doorway, he added, “And, Jackson, I want her gone in the morning.”

  He went back into the building. Jackson noticed that his brother did not look the same as he had just moments before: he had reverted to his natural form. Gone were the bags under his eyes, the washed out complexion, and the emaciated physique. They were replaced by a lean yet muscled body with its tall frame, toasted bronze skin, and those entrancing black eyes. Apparently, there was no point in hiding now or ever again.

  Resident

  When Rush woke up the next morning, there was a pain between his shoulder blades. The pain was sharp and cleared the fog in his brain. Without concern for hiding his High Energy, he growled. Why is she still here? He inserted the question directly into Jackson’s dreams and woke him up.

  “She wouldn’t leave.” Even to his own ears, Jackson’s silently uttered reason sounded pathetic.

  Make her leave, Rush demanded.

  “Why won’t you?” Jackson shot back. Then abruptly, the mental path was cut. Only with it gone did Jackson realize that he and Rush had always used a mental path to talk to each other. Never before had he thought anything of it. It hadn’t occurred to him that this indicated Talent in Rush. He had only accepted it. It was a part of the manipulation he learned of the night before.

  Jackson couldn’t think of that anymore. Perhaps, if his memories had shown his brother being anything but honorable, or if he had seen even one act of aggression, one indulgence in vice or one time when his brother had not worked to protect their family, then Jackson would have been able to give rise to his anger. But he couldn’t because Rush had done nothing; nothing short of protect him his entire life. His brother had demonstrated a care and concern for him that was even stronger than the care and concern Jackson had displayed for others in the Service. Jackson’s brother was noble. There was not and would never be an argument to the contrary.

  Jackson reached for the mental link again, but this time the mental path had been cut neatly. His brother had shut him out just like that. Jackson tried to open the line of communication again, but found he could not. He tried harder. His brow creased, his heart raced, the hair at his nape stood on end. His nose started to bleed. He stopped.

  The door to his room opened and Rush entered carrying a towel. He threw it at his brother who pressed the soft material to his face. “You shouldn’t have done that,” Rush told him.

  Jackson offered silence as he tilted his head back and applied pressure to his nose.

  Finally, after he was sure the bleeding was subsiding, Rush told him, “You have to put her out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she has to go,” Rush answered as if that was explanation enough.

  “Rush.” Jackson sat, checked the towel, and pressed it back to his face. “Why?

  “You don’t understand.”

  “And I won’t understand if you don’t answer the damn question!” Jackson returned. He didn’t like puzzles. He had never liked puzzles. He didn’t like delays. He didn’t like for the people around him to keep secrets. It was rare that anyone could keep anything from him, but when they did... Talking around this subject was only making his patience wear thin. “Why does she have to go? And when you answer, try not to be cryptic.”

  “I can’t tell you why,” Rush told him with muscles straining in his neck. “But I can tell you that she is trouble.”

  “You don’t even know her.”

  “Jackson, trust me when I tell you I know her,” Rush argued. Then in a softer tone, he added. “You know about me now. You have your memories back. You know I have certain… Talent… and…”

  “Then you do it!” Jackson spat angrily. He wanted Bright Star to stay, but even more, he wanted to thwart the brother who had kept such an important secret from him. Rush certainly had the power to do it. And Jackson had no desire for her to leave. He didn’t completely understand why, but at that moment, he truly couldn’t say he cared. Rush should get rid of her. “This is part my place, too. And, I want her here.”

  “You have to do it,” Rush explained, raking his hands over his face. He sat down in the recliner in the corner. “It’s not you she’s after. You don’t know why she was on that roof. You won’t hurt her, and… Jackson… I might. It has to be you.”

  Jackson challenged. “Rush, if you trust me. If you would just tell me… then I…”

  Rush didn’t answer. Jackson knew that he wouldn’t. He knew his brother wouldn’t tell him anything that hinted at his link to Bright Star. Even if it meant she remained in the home to torment him. Determined to protect him to the end, Rush wouldn’t tell him.

  Jackson knew who would. He backed out of his room and headed down the hallway to the guest room. His whole body could feel the disapproval seeping out Rush’s pores into the universe. This time, Jackson didn’t listen.

  Rush fell into pace just behind him.

  “Do you know why Randall was calling me the other night?”

  Rush shook his head.

  “He was calling
me because Thad was back in holding.”

  Rush’s eyes widened. “He got the rock?”

  “Yes,” Jackson answered. He saw the question in his brother’s eyes. “Nobody got hurt, thank goodness. I don’t even know how they got him in there.”

  “But how did he get the rock back?”

  “We don’t know. No fucking idea.” Jackson rarely swore, but this situation was ripe for it. “He got it back and we were lucky he didn’t kill someone.”

  “You had to get it from him?” Rush’s eyebrows furrowed. It was as much a look of concern as Jackson had ever seen from him.

  “Yeah,” he responded. “You can’t imagine the levels of High Energy he puts out when he first gets that thing.” Then with a sarcastic sneer he appended, “Actually, I’m sure you can.”

  Rush ignored that statement. “Is he OK?”

  “I don’t know. I was going to go see him today.”

  “Do you think they’ll let him out?”

  Jackson considered that. “Probably. If they figure out how he got it and are able to neutralize the source.”

  “Why not just let him keep it? He gets the one violent surge out and then no more stored up Energy. He’s calm.”

  Before he could answer, Jackson felt the hairs on the nape of his neck rise. He felt his breathing rush and his skin tingle. He looked up and Bright Star was standing in the door.

  “There’s no food in the kitchen.” It was hard to tell whom she addressed. Her gaze flashed back and forth from the ground to Rush, but her body was turned to Jackson. “I was going to get something. I want to contribute, you know. Say thank you. Anything special you want for dinner tonight?”

  Old Times

  “Bright Star?” Jackson started pushing his vegetables around on his plate. “You haven’t told me how you ended up on that roof. I mean, maybe we should call the police.” She made a face. “If you don’t want to do that, I’m sure I can get someone from the Service to investigate discreetly. Really, no one will know what they find but us.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” she said in a docile tone. She gave him a comforting smile and her blue eyes seemed to glow under the shining fringe of red hair.

  For a moment, Jackson softened. In the end, she had come away from this fine. Whole. Jackson’s face clouded as the image of this woman in a puddle of the glistening blood, her face stained red, imposed itself on the moment. “Bright Star, you almost died up there!” Jackson declared. “You can’t let them get away with it. There is no reason to protect someone who could have killed you.”

  “I’m not protecting anyone,” she argued. Funny how she could argue forcefully and at the same time convey the vulnerability that had led Jackson to try to save her in the first place. Her eyes were down as she continued, “I’m just telling you there’s no need for the police. What happened, happened. Besides, I may not have died.”

  “If you didn’t think you would die—and I assure you that you would have—then why did you call out to me?” Jackson asked. Bright Star kept her eyes on her plate and was silent.

  “Great question. Why don’t you answer him?” Rush interjected as he strode into the room.

  Jackson took note that his brother, who normally walked with his shoulders hunched and his head down, directly addressed the newcomer as he neared the table. He still wore his dreary layers. A faded black long-sleeved knit shirt. A dark, army green t-shirt over it. Baggy faded black jeans. But somehow, he looked larger, stronger. He sat down and reached for the bowls at the center of the table. Jackson couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Rush eat something besides cereal or burritos.

  “I called for help, you just… you just answered.” She explained reluctantly. Jackson noticed that she looked at him but never directly at his brother. Jackson wished Rush would stop making the poor thing so uncomfortable. Jackson had seen his brother intimidate people plenty of times, but this time he obviously did it on purpose.

  “Jackson,” Rush started even as he continued to scoop food onto his plate. “Did she call you by name?”

  “I don’t remember,” Jackson answered truthfully with a frown. “I’m sure she didn’t. How would she know my name?”

  “Yes, Bright Star,” Rush tilted his head and questioned her. “How would you know his name?” The girl didn’t answer. He turned his attention back to his brother. “Jackson, with all of your Service trained skills of observation, you don’t remember whether she said your name or not when you were whisked away to that rooftop?”

  Jackson did not have a ready answer.

  “At the end of the day, you’re an officer, Jacks. Why didn’t it occur to you to ask who did it? To call for help? To file a report, anything? Follow the path backwards. See for yourself.”

  Jackson furrowed his brow. He thought back. He brought a hand up to cover his eyes and shut out anything but the memory of that rooftop. What had happened there? He began to concentrate, breathing slowly. In. Out. He breathed in and breathed out. Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, he felt his body get heavy. He focused on physics laws. Somehow, they made these Shifts easier. It hadn’t been explained in his parameters but… His body got even heavier. More and more weight seemed added to his chest until his heart was a boulder and gravity was in excess. Weighted down and down and down, Jackson expected to hit the floor and to have the breath pressed out of him, but that didn’t happen. Instead, he found his skin tingling as his soul peeled itself away.

  He had admitted it to no one, but he loved this sensation. It felt like butterflies and his knees getting weak. Only it wasn’t just his stomach and it wasn’t just his knees. All of his joints, his body just seemed to melt into a languid tingle. Like floating in warm salted water. High; he imagined this is what it was like to be high. Then, he was hovering over the roof of that building several hours ago.

  Slowly, the scene unfurled before him in his mind. There he was, crouched over her. There she was, a white and untouched angel lying in a deep ruby pool of her own making. Then he was gone. She was lying there broken and alone. Her lips were moving but no sound was coming out of them. He couldn’t tell what she was saying. Then, he heard his name like a soft sigh on the wind. His name. She called his name. Jackson Rush.

  Jackson brought his hands down from his eyes, though the cloud of Shift made the room and its inhabitants dim. Bright Star was even darker, her brilliant white skin dim like honey. Everything was hazy but the eyes. Her blue eyes were more pronounced, as they were the only things to truly penetrate the fog. “Do you know me?” he asked her in surprise.

  Bright Star put down her fork and steepled her hands in front of her. She was still and careful as she said to him, “I did not.”

  “Then why did you call to me for help?” Then he answered his own question: “Because you knew about me being the Precocial. You called me because you thought I could save you.” It hadn’t occurred to him, but it had happened before. Many times in the field, he’d fought alongside men with varying preternatural Talents. Some had called to him when they were in trouble because he was the strongest. Jackson wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. He was the Precocial. She didn’t say anything. Jackson continued, “You believed that I was the only one who could save you. You knew of me the way every other Shifter knows of me.”

  “Yes,” Bright Star chirped with a firm nod.

  “No,” Rush provided at the same time.

  Jackson looked from one to the other and back again, “Bright Star, you called to me because you wanted to be saved.”

  “Yes,” she answered with a more fervent nod.

  “But not by you, Jackson,” Rush interjected. He pierced Bright Star with his gaze, but she still refused to look directly at him.

  “Then who…” Jackson queried slowly, just milliseconds before the answer dawned on him. He wasn’t the person in the end who had saved her. Precocial or not, Jackson didn’t have the Talent. But Rush did. “How could she have known?”

  Rush re
plied solemnly, “I told you. We’ve met before.”

  “I did know Rush and I knew that he had a brother, Jackson,” Bright Star added.

  Jackson thought on this for a moment, then questions started to flood from him. “If that was the case, then why would she call me and not you, Rush?”

  “She was afraid I wouldn’t come.” Rush stated pointedly. “Isn’t that right, Bright Star?”

  The creamy-skinned, red-haired girl remained mute. She cast her eyes downward this time, not looking at either of them.

  “But how could she know that even if you were my brother, you would come? I didn’t even know about your Talent, Rush, before yesterday. How could she know you would come?”

  “She’s a very, very clever girl, our Bright Star,” was Rush’s only answer.

  “Is this true?” Jackson turned to her. She didn’t answer. Her hands rested folded in her lap and she studied her plate. “You just used me to get to my brother?”

  “I was dying,” Bright Star reminded the younger brother as she tested the thickness of her mashed potatoes with her spoon.

  Jackson swallowed. That was true. Did it matter when you were dying who saved you or how you got them to do it? He didn’t voice the question aloud.

  “Don’t stop your questions now,” Rush encouraged. “You’re getting to the heart of the matter. Don’t stop.”

  Jackson listened to his brother but his eyes were captured by the large blue ones that were—now he was certain—glowing. “What are you?”

  “The same as you!” she declared. Her eyes went brighter. “You can Shift, and so can I.”

  “But you were dying and you managed to bring me all the way to you. You managed to do it in time for me to call my brother.”