Halfblood Journey

by Rheaume, Laura

  Reave denied vehemently, “I absolutely did not…”

  “Who is proposing?” Ian asked, walking in with Captain Termaine Rogers; he was carrying a second plate of food and juggling three cups, two of which Mercy jumped up to take from him.

  Mercy said mischievously, “Captain Reave said I was his dreamgirl.” She carried the second cup to Scythe, who accepted it with thanks. She gave it to him, smiling brightly. Then, she didn’t return to her seat; instead, she decided to stand by him, drinking her juice and watching her dad enjoy himself.

  “What? I’m gone for ten minutes, Mercy, ten minutes!” He gave Reave a mock serious look, “I know your people marry earlier than we do, but I believe that even fourteen is a bit young.” When the man opened his mouth to object, Ian waved his hand, “However, you seem like a good man, an upstanding citizen. If my daughter loves you, then, I have no…”

  “Enough!” Reave raised up both hands to ward them off. “I am a married man. Mercy, you have my apologies, but I would never consider a Human mistress, or any mistress for that matter, and I am sorry that I spoke so unsuitably to you.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, “but I wasn’t really offended.”

  “If you are done, Ian,” Captain Rogers said blandly, well used to the man’s sense of humor. “Captain Reave, I am going to release two of my men to Special Agent Scythe, per Ian’s recommendation, in addition to himself and Mercy, of course.” He added to Ian, “Since there might be a stink about Mercy, I’ll put in the report after you leave.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that, Termaine.”

  “I don’t have a spare medical officer, though,” he added, sitting.

  Scythe nodded, “That is fine. I appreciate any assistance from the border patrol.”

  Reave said shortly, still rankled from what was to the Kin an extremely embarrassing mistake, “Okay, let’s coordinate and brief the teams before we head out to Juniper. It promises to be a bear of a day.”

  Scythe stood up and gathered his things, “We’ll start our preparations as well. I won’t need the soldiers that each of you have assigned to me until just before we leave, so they can assist you until then.” He strode to the door with Mercy, their hands full of dishes. Ian took another quick bite and then grabbed his plate and followed them out.

  Chapter 13

  It was the same room he had taken them to before, and only a short amount of time had passed since they had left it, but it felt completely different to Mercy. Scythe was obviously more comfortable than he had been the previous night, now that they were all sure that he could search her memories safely. He was also more energetic after he returned from his short nap.

  He was taking charge of things again and bossing her around, but there was something softer in the way he talked to her that felt like a fresh breeze on a muggy summer afternoon; it made her jitteringly excited. Added to that, their growing eagerness to begin the hunt for Phillip had infected her as well. She hoped like they did that her memories would give them something valuable to work with.

  Scythe asked, “Okay, how many times did you see him?”

  “Just a few, I guess. I stayed mostly by Grant, and we kept out of the way of the rest of the unit.”

  “Okay, let’s have a look.” For the second time, Scythe did not move when he said they were going to begin.

  Mercy knew that he was still being careful with her, something she really liked after being treated like a leper. She stepped up to him and dropped her light, everyday shield. Since she hardly ever did that, she felt wonderfully free and uncomfortably exposed at the same time. She looked into his deep green eyes and waited. She trusted him completely, as much as her father, or anyone in her family. She felt what she now realized was just a small fraction his power swell and then focus. Although she knew it was coming, she still gasped when it started.

  She was blind, floating in a sticky emptiness that clung to her and pulled her in all directions, dizzyingly spinning her in circles. Her arms flung out on their own as she tried to stop herself. When she felt a warm hand take hers, she gripped it, and, suddenly able to see again, she stepped into his bright green eyes.

  She hovered in the air in front of him, her legs crossed in a sitting position. She held on to his hand when he tried to pull it away; she didn’t want him to fade to gray, like he had done last time. Around them, light, colorful orbs whirled and then settled down into calmer orbits, with the exception of a few energetic ones that danced throughout the sky.

  Here, as long as she held his hand, she could see him better. He was softer: his eyes, his mouth, his whole face; the tight way that he held himself and the tension that was always there in the real world were both gone. He was harder: the two emotions that he sometimes fought with were not hidden away here. They pulled heavily on him: fear and aggression. And, right there in the way he stood and in the heat of his gaze: the strength and confidence of a man who knew exactly what he was capable of doing with his body and spirit.

  She thought he was amazing in every way.

  “Show me the young Phillip.” His voice pulled at her, and a thin vine grew out of her and floated toward him. He lifted his free hand and it curled around his arm. Tiny buds started growing on it, and when he looked at one, it bloomed.

  Mercy was there again, at the border patrol station in Juniper. Grant stood next to her, talking to an older, very serious captain who had nothing but disapproval for her presence there; she was admiring the beautiful landscape painting behind his desk when a young man came in with an armful of boxes. He stopped at the door abruptly, unsettling his load, which looked for a moment like it was going to fall. She couldn’t help but smile at the way he clutched at the wobbling boxes and shouted outlandishly.

  “Whoa! Hold on there! No...no...it’s okay. I got it! I’ll just put your order in the other room, sir.” He turned around and hurried off. She craned her neck to see if he would return, but he didn’t.

  Scythe rotated his wrist and another bud burst open.

  She sat on the porch of the second floor of the border patrol offices. From there she could get a wide view of that side of town, but she wasn’t interested in the shops and homes. Her eyes were riveted to the sight beyond the town’s short wall. She had positioned her chair just beneath the awning to keep dry and watched the storm move across the desert. There wasn’t anything like this where she lived, a city with enormous walls where someone had to watch special channels to see what weather was like. Thick, gray clouds stretched down from the sky, like a huge curtain that sometimes parted to let, miraculously, the sun send a few thin rays through it, before it swept closed again. She waited and watched, not wanting to blink in case she missed the lightning. It would slash across the sky in a web-like streak for a second and then steal away just as fast, always leaving her in anticipation of the next one. As soon as the lighting disappeared, Mercy listened for its voice. Sometimes the thunder started as a low rumble that continued to expand until it became so loud that it made her shake, but other times it crashed, jolting her in her seat right away. It was the closest she had ever been to something so raw and wild; it scared her every time, and she loved it.

  Someone stepped up behind her, and she turned to see Phillip, who gazed past her at the storm. He was way older than she was, at least five years older, but she thought he didn’t seem old, or try to act older, like many young men did at his age. He was very handsome to look at, with light brown hair, hazel eyes and tan skin, but the most attractive thing about him was his easy smile and friendly personality. She had seen him come in and out a few times, always hurrying on some errand for Captain Petrial, but had never spoken to him. In fact, it was strange to see him standing still.

  She smiled politely, even though he wasn’t looking at her, and turned back to the storm. Another flash made her jump and gasp, and then cringe at her own childish reaction. She heard him chuckle behind her and turned around again.

  He was watching her now, and she felt herself blush under hi
s scrutiny. “You must be from the city. Only a citygirl would be sitting in the rain, begging for a cold.”

  “Yeah,” was all she could manage. She swallowed and tried to pull her eyes away, and because she was so focused on him, she felt it: a little something right there. She tilted her head, the puzzle clearing away her childlike shyness.

  “Well, I don’t get to lay around like some lucky devils I could mention, so I’m off. See you later, citygirl.” He waved and went back into the room.

  She leaned back in her chair until she could see through the doorway and watched him cross the room, his light gait barely making a noise on the wood floor. Then she noticed that no one else was in the room and wondered where the captain had gone off to. He usually sent her out when he was leaving and locked up the room behind him. She knew she should probably leave, but this was the best place to see the storm, so she decided to risk staying a bit longer.

  Mercy turned back to the storm with her eyes, but not her thoughts. She had heard that people in bordertowns like Juniper were superstitious about the powers that some people developed naturally, and she had been raised, in any case, to not talk about them. Because of that, she wouldn’t dream of asking him, or of asking anyone else about him in case it brought him trouble. However, she had felt something like the flow of power around him, just for a second.

  The next few memories were short glimpses of him as he brought goods, took laundry or ran other errands for the unit.

  In the sixth memory, Mercy barged into Captain Petrial’s office from the hallway. She was used to walking in by then, even though she had only been there for a short while. The captain seemed to enjoy treating her like his daughter, and she had, with less than decent hesitancy, taken advantage of his leniency. So, instead of knocking like everyone else, she just strolled right in to see the captain at his desk and Phillip next to him, looking over some paperwork.

  Mercy paused only a second, before excusing herself, “Oh, sorry Captain Petrial. Don’t mind me, I’m just going out to watch the sunset.” The sunset was another thing you only saw on the entertainment unit, unless you counted the sight of it dipping below the city walls. Halfway to the porch door and her favorite chair her step faltered. She hadn’t heard the captain’s snarly voice reprimanding her; it was something she had grown fond of since it was always followed by a grudging acceptance of whatever it was she wanted. She glanced over her shoulder and then stopped completely in the doorway.

  Petrial sat staring down at the screen in front of him without moving, which, while it was strange that he hadn’t acknowledged her, was not particularly alarming. What did bother her was Phillip. He laid down the papers he was holding and stared at her. His usual, cheerful manner was gone, replaced with alarm. Slowly, it started bleeding to something angrier.

  She flushed, embarrassed by her rude behavior, “Oh, I am so sorry. You really are busy with something important, right? I should have knocked and then, well, I guess I shouldn’t have just come right in...Do you want me to go?”

  Phillip blinked in surprise, and then said, “Ah, no, go on out. Maybe I’ll be out in a second to watch the sunset with you, citygirl.”

  “Okay. Sorry, Captain!” The older man still didn’t move. It looked like he was so angry that he wouldn’t even talk to her. She felt her shoulders hunch in on her, and her stomach twisted up in a knot. “Uh, yeah, I am really sorry about that.” She slipped outside, closing the glass door quietly behind her, already thinking of ways to make it up to him. Maybe if she brought him some of that chocolate he liked...

  As her hand lifted off the handle, she sensed something that she had only experienced at home: a strong surge of power. She stepped backward and turned her head to look through the door. Captain Petrial had his head in his hands, and he was swaying a tiny bit in his seat. Phillip had his hand on his shoulder, steadying him, and might have been comforting the man, except that he was staring at Mercy. He didn’t look angry, like before, or friendly, like she was used to. He looked like he was deciding.

  He stepped around the desk, pulling on a smile, and walked toward the door. As he approached, he brought his power with him; it seemed to expand around him. She was impressed, actually, because he was the most powerful person she had met outside of her family. Also, it was rare that he wasn’t afraid of her learning that he had some type of ability; that made her feel an instant kinship with him. Of course, if she hadn’t had a gift, she wouldn’t have noticed a thing, but it was obvious that he knew she was aware of his strength. That meant that he must have been curious about her power, which scared her, but also excited her. It was like watching a lightning storm. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off it.

  By the time he was standing on the other side of the door, his power extended effortlessly through it and up against hers. It didn’t affect her at all. Her own abilities ran deep and wide, and she had been taught by people stronger than him how to defend herself, until she could do it without thinking. She wondered, momentarily, if he had really thought she was just going to let him touch her with some unknown power. The healing gift that she assumed he had since he had been helping the captain with a headache wouldn’t have hurt her. Even so, she was a little insulted by how naive he thought she was, so she peevishly smiled at him. He paused, startled and a little amused by her confidence, and then reached for the handle.

  She began to notice, now that she could see him up close, that his smile wasn’t all that friendly after all. It seemed a little shallow, like it didn’t go down very far. Then without warning, he frowned and turned, striding to the opposite door and through it, pushing past two men who opened it just as he reached it.

  Mercy opened the door, feeling confused as well as a little disappointed by Phillip’s sudden change of heart. He must have been offended by her arrogance and had decided he didn’t want to be open about his power after all. She joined the two men who were already reciting their reports; they hadn’t even noticed that the captain was still holding his head.

  “Are you okay, sir? It looks like you have a terrible headache. I didn’t know that you got migraines,” Mercy said. “Do you want me to get you something to drink, or find some pain killers?”

  “I don’t need a nursemaid for a couple of headaches. Now get on out of here, before I have these boys lock you up for interfering with military business.”

  She nodded, hurrying to the door and thinking that he sounded like he was back to normal. The memory started to fade away.

  “I need to see that one again, just the last part,” Scythe said.

  She nodded, although it was he who coaxed the memory out again.

  When Phillip stood across from her, with just a pane of glass between them, Scythe asked her, “Listen, what do you hear?”

  Mercy didn’t hear anything, beyond the sounds from the street below.

  Scythe lifted up his arm and the vine uncurled and returned to her. He began to fade, and she looked down at her hand as it closed over a disappearing image of his. Then, she stood across from him in the tiny office, blinking away the afterimages and a slight feeling of disorientation.

  “Did you see what he did to your captain friend, Petrial?” Scythe asked.

  “At the time, I thought he was helping him, but it looks like he did something. I’m not sure what, though.”

  “He was using his power to, I think, manipulate Petrial’s memory and he probably did it more than a couple of times. He tried to get to you, too.” Scythe looked over at Ian, elaborating when he saw Ian’s reaction, “He couldn’t even get close to her. He’s weaker than her, but that isn’t saying much. I bet most people are.”

  “I’m not as strong as you,” Mercy said, thinking about his immense power from the night before.

  “I think you might be as strong as me, if not now, then certainly later. When you first came I tried to use my power on you. Do you remember?” Scythe ignored her father’s sharp look.

  Mercy thought for a moment. “It’s a little hazy. Um, n
ot really.”

  “Well, I did, and not only did I get nowhere, but you didn’t even have to raise your power to stop me.” He said to Ian, “No one has been able to do that.”

  Ian put his hand out, and Mercy took it automatically along with his hug. “Naturally. She is a Young, after all. So, Phillip’s power is like yours.”

  “Well, I only know how to see memories and make the person relive them. It looks like he can affect them. I think he changed Petrial’s memory so that he didn’t remember the things he did in the office. It was disturbing. He was going through everything on the desk with the captain right there next to him, frozen. In any case, he had full access to the reports.”

  “If he is an activist, then that would explain some of the information mysteries.”

  “That’s right. After the last memory, you didn’t see him again, right?”

  Mercy nodded, “That was the day before the warehouse.”

  “Hm. So the question is, if Phillip was having such good access to the data, why did he cut it lose?”

  “He either had a new source, or it had become too dangerous…” They both looked thoughtfully at Mercy.

  “Or, they were moving on to something else anyway, and had planned the warehouse before Phillip had the run in with Mercy. My guess would be that they already had planned to take out the border patrol the next day, since they have a history of well thought out, precisely implemented operations. They aren’t known for being hasty or reckless. Rushing a job like that in one day would definitely fit in that category.”

  “Did you get any more leads on Phillip?” Ian asked.

  “Beyond the physical description, nothing that is really helping me, except maybe an insight into his character. He’s a smooth liar, so it is hard to know, but he doesn’t seem like someone who is comfortable with violence. He had an excellent opportunity at Mercy, but he didn’t do anything. He only moved on her when she accidentally saw him with the captain, and even then was slow to act. So far, he isn’t acting like a killer, more of a strategist.”