Ren: God's Little Monster

by Sarah Noffke

  “What?” she says with a disbelieving laugh. “Of course it was a dream. I saw a vision of the future.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” I say loudly. “You’re a Dream Traveler. Well, half anyway.”

  “A what?” she says, sounding like I’ve just told her she was a different species.

  “That was my reaction when he told me,” Dahlia says. “I asked him if he was on drugs.”

  Adelaide looks at Dahlia briefly, irritation making her face pink. “Oh, would you shut up.”

  “Don’t talk to her like that,” I say and ball my fists on either side of me. “What you do in your dreams is real. Your consciousness goes to real places and does real things.”

  “So I really did that?” she says, her voice turning to a hush.

  “Yeah, you defaced a national treasure, you dumbass,” I say.

  “Don’t call me that. This is your fault. If you’d been around then I would know who I am,” she says, her words growing rushed.

  I sink my probe into her mind, as I do with most as I try and figure out the best way to control them and not be detected. It always gives me a snapshot of how their mind works. It’s abstract, but enough information most of the time. “I’ve been in hiding for almost two decades,” I say. “So excuse me for not being around to tell you to slit your throat before you created a huge problem. It’s never too late and that’s my advice. You’re dangerous and should just off yourself and save us all the trouble.”

  “Ren,” Dahlia says, a warning in her voice.

  “What?” I bark at her. “Is it my fault that this little monster is putting graffiti on the Louvre? I didn’t even know about her until today.”

  “Well, you know now and I’m not offing myself as you’ve so kindly suggested,” Adelaide says. “But I do think I am a monster, especially now that you tell me I actually did that to the Louvre.” Then her eyes go cold. “If my dreams are real then that means…”

  “What have you done?” I say.

  “Nothing,” she says, her voice suddenly artificially high. “No murder or anything but…”

  “Oh, for the love of God,” I say, stomping my foot. It’s only to keep me from throwing Dahlia’s gaudy collection of antique vases across the room.

  “See, I need your help,” Adelaide says.

  “Where are you living?” Dahlia asks, sounding calm which only makes the heat in me simmer.

  “Nowhere, right now,” she says, her tone dropping. “I mean I had a room in London, but I left it. Sold everything I had to buy the plane ticket to come over here. I knew I had to find you,” Adelaide’s eyes are suddenly heavy as she looks at me. “But I’m not here asking for money. I’m asking for help. I can get money myself. I just tell people and they give it to me. However, I do usually get caught. I’ve been in jail more than a few times.”

  “That’s because you’re sloppy and have no control. You can’t just tell people what to do. They’ll be suspicious when the mind controls wear off,” I say.

  “Mind control…so I was right,” she says and doesn’t look especially happy about the idea. “That’s what I can do. I’m a Dream Traveler who has mind control…” she says almost to herself, as though trying to rapidly process.

  “And you’re telepathic too,” Dahlia says, always willing to help the invader who is ruining my life.

  “What? Why do you say that?” Adelaide says.

  “Well, you read Ren’s thoughts at the café when you touched him, right?” Dahlia says.

  “Those were your thoughts?” she says to me, looking surprised and then also amused. “What do you have against goats?”

  “Besides the fact that they are irritating little shits?” I say.

  “So I have telepathy?” Adelaide says.

  “It’s linked to touch,” Dahlia says.

  “Oh, then I’m not hearing voices?”

  “Well, you are, but they are the thoughts of the person you’re touching,” she says.

  “Badass,” Adelaide says, looking excited.

  “Not so fast there,” I say, holding up a hand. “You’re a monster and your gifts aren’t something to be excited about. They aren’t gifts at all. Usually I think of myself as cursed.”

  “These are the gifts you have too?” she says.

  “Yes,” Dahlia answers for me. “But he has more skills. Ren is extremely powerful, however he’s right. You have a lot to learn.”

  Adelaide then looks at me and her stare has an extremely persuasive quality to it. Not like Dahlia’s, which rattles me. It’s like this girl has just drilled down into my emotional center and dropped a bomb into it.

  “Teach me. Please,” she says.

  “I’ll think about it,” I say, pulling my eyes away as I swallow hard. The liquor is churning in my stomach now, threatening to erupt out of me. I turn to the guard closest to Adelaide. “Take her out of here. Let her roam the grounds or whatever, but keep an eye on her.”

  He nods at once and marches forward. When he is in front of Adelaide he stops and looks at her. “This way, ma’am,” he says in his neutral voice.

  “Go fuck yourself,” she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest and giving me a challenging look.

  Before I can respond the guard turns and continues his trek to the door.

  “Where are you going, Bobbie?” Dahlia says to the guard.

  He halts and turns to her. “To do what she said, miss,” he says.

  “Don’t, Bobbie,” I say, feeling the vein in my neck threatening to break the collar of my shirt. I stride over to Adelaide and stare down at her. She flinches from the threatening look I give her. “You will go with the guard. You will be watched. And you will not give any orders to anyone while I deliberate on what to do with you. Do I make myself clear?”

  She narrows her eyes, the ones just like mine. Just like my mum’s. I want to rip them from her, but then that thought makes my stomach turn over. Adelaide stays silent.

  “You may be powerful but compared to me you’re a fucking roly-poly,” I say. “I’ve studied your mind and if I so desired I could make you climb to the tower of this mansion and jump, so I suggest you do what I say.”

  “Threats don’t work on me,” she says.

  “I’m realizing that,” I retort.

  She holds my gaze. “You wouldn’t really make me kill myself either.”

  “No, but I’m considering hypnotizing you until you pass out. Ask the guards. These marble floors hurt like a bitch when you collapse,” I say.

  Her eyes dart to the guard standing beside me. I’m guessing he nods because I notice the sudden tension in her throat as she swallows.

  “Now, are you going to leave this study and follow my orders or not?” I say. “Because I don’t want to worry about you torturing Dahlia’s staff while I tear this room to pieces.”

  She dutifully nods and turns for the door.

  Chapter Nine

  “You aren’t tearing the study to pieces,” Dahlia says at my back.

  I turn after watching Adelaide leave the room. Deliberately I pivot to face Dahlia, who is standing now. She’s taken off the “cool” mask and is showing me her true face. Her pinched expression of anger makes her look more beautiful somehow, like a mermaid before it’s about to rip the throat out of a sailor. Her hands rest by her sides, her posture straight. I shiver from the calm ferocity spilling off her.

  “No, I’m not tearing this room up until you leave,” I say and stand to the side waving an arm at the door.

  Dahlia glides to the door, but doesn’t open it. Instead I hear the terrifying sound of the lock falling into place. She turns, her back to the door and her hands behind her. “Ren, for ten years I searched for you,” she begins in a low voice I can barely hear. I step forward, realizing that’s probably what she wants. The closer I am, the easier it will make it for her to scratch out my eyes. I pause three dangerous feet from Dahlia. “For over eighteen years I’ve missed you. And we’ve only been reunited for three months. It hasn�
�t been easy to allow you back into my life but it’s been worth it. I love you, you know that, but this…” And just then her voice cracks. She pulls in a breath and brings her arms to her sides. They are perfectly steady. “I don’t know how to assimilate this into our lives. Into mine.”

  “Dahlia,” I say, finally realizing how fragile we are. Relationships have never been of interest to me. Destroying them is something I’m superb at. But preserving them now feels like a feat similar to erecting the Great Pyramid. “Dahlia,” I begin again. “I have to help Adelaide. She’s dangerous. If I don’t then she’s going to show up on all the Lucidites’ news reports. She’s going to—”

  “I’m not arguing that you have to help her,” Dahlia cuts me off. “She needs to understand who she is and what she’s capable of. I’m just not sure I’m in a position, after everything you’ve put me through, to stand by while you foster your daughter’s gifts. It’s not how I pictured this reunion between you and me going,” she says.

  “What?” I say, the air skipping out of my lungs like they’ve been punctured.

  “It’s been hard enough to start again, to share my home with you, which I lived in for so long alone. And now what do you expect me to do?”

  “I don’t know, Dahlia,” I say, turning from her. Thrusting my hands into my hair.

  “She needs to be with you.”

  “I know!” I scream, my back still to her.

  “But I don’t think she should be here.”

  “Dahlia, no,” I say, not prepared for this misdirection. My head beats like a drum, the alcohol not numbing the torture erupting in my mind.

  “You know she’s too much of a risk to my staff, to me. And you and I—”

  “You’ll be on tour soon,” I say, turning to her, catching the regret in her eyes before she covers it up.

  “Ren, this is my home. It’s been so hard to share it with you. And now you’re asking me to share you and my home.”

  “I’m not asking anything. I haven’t even had a chance to think.”

  “You’re a genius, Ren. Don’t pretend that you don’t know what you have to do. You’ve already dissected this situation, assessed your options, and decided on the best strategy which will benefit everyone. Do not pretend that this decision comes as a shock.”

  I nod. I knew Adelaide wouldn’t be good in this place. Honestly, she would be best held at the Institute, but I’d be obligated to live there again. For eighteen years I willingly imprisoned myself in that sterile underwater facility. I can’t do it another time.

  “I can make this work, Dahlia,” I say, ignoring my logical side. Dahlia is the only one who ever made me behave irrationally based on emotions. And yet I don’t care. I can’t lose her. Not again.

  She stares at me and something shifts on her face. The hurt retreats and the anger flares. “Damn it, Ren, how could you have been so careless! We were just creating a life together.”

  My nostrils flare at that phrase. I get that’s what we were doing but I’m still not comfortable with the idea of making a life with another person. Even Dahlia. “I obviously made a mistake. I didn’t know it at the time,” I say.

  “Well, it wouldn’t have happened at all if you hadn’t screwed half the population of London,” Dahlia says.

  “Don’t give me that much credit. It was probably more like twenty-five percent.”

  She just shakes her head. “And a girl studying to be a nun? Really, Ren?”

  I shrug, remembering clearly the night I scammed the virgin who was working with her study group in that pub. It hadn’t been hard to lure her away from them, but convincing her to leave with me took a little more effort. “What can I say, I was looking for a challenge.”

  “Damn it, Ren you should have had it snipped,” she says, pointing at my pants.

  A scream akin to a noise a school girl would make falls out of my mouth. “Have you lost your mind, woman?”

  “Oh really, you’re impossible. Why do I love you so much?” she says as she throws her hands in the air, real frustration in her voice.

  “Dahlia, this is something unexpected, but I have to help Adelaide and I want you beside me.”

  She lifts her blue eyes and studies me for several seconds. Then she shakes her head. “I can’t. I realize I’m not being fair but I need space to deal with this all.”

  “You’re dumping me? Because I have a daughter?” I say.

  “No, I’m saying we need to separate while you figure out your shit. As much as I care about you, I have to think about myself and what a distraction like this will do to my career,” Dahlia says.

  “Right, so this is all about you preserving your bloody stardom and getting rest so you look fresh on stage for your fans,” I say.

  “My fans and this career were there when you abandoned me!” she yells and the vein in her neck bulges to the surface. Never have I seen her this mad. And I know she has every right to be. We were good. As close to happy as I’ve ever been. And this, well, it’s too much to ask Dahlia to deal with. My reasonable side sees this. Sees that having to share my attention isn’t something she deserves. And in pure Dahlia form she’d rather have none of me if she can’t have all of me. I can’t argue with her. I would probably ask for the same space in her situation. But I’m not ready to be reasonable, so I say, “I came back. After everything I put you through, I came back.”

  “Yeah, and now you’re back, but with a deranged daughter and a job that if you have it your way will become even more dangerous. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved, but right now I’m not sure our lives are congruent. I am a Middling, and remember you said I would never understand your life and the things you’d have to do. Maybe you were right all along.”

  “Don’t…” I say.

  She holds up her hands, like she’s blocking me. “I already have, Ren. This is my decision.”

  I swallow hard. Never would I beg, not even for Dahlia. “Fine, I’ll give you space. You know where to find me if you change your mind.” I speed by her, whipping the door open and not casting a look back as I stride away.

  Chapter Ten

  The benefit of working as a strategist for so long is I can cut off the emotions connected to a situation and make clear, unbiased decisions. Under stress I work best. Not like a soldier. They work based on protocol. I invent new solutions. Ones that will bring about new results. I’m a master at creating change. And that’s what has to happen right now if I’m going to fix this mess that is my life. I make three phone calls before seeking out Adelaide. I expected to find her having the kitchen staff making a bonfire and the landscapers roasting their hands over it. Imagine my surprise when the heathen is sitting unassumingly at the dining room table and sketching.

  “What is she doing?” I say to the blockhead guard standing at her back.

  He turns. “She’s drawing, sir.”

  “Why?” I say, not looking at the girl who has turned around and is giving me an aggravated look.

  “I’m not sure why, sir. She just asked if she could have some paper and pencils,” the gorilla says.

  “She asked?” I say, my eyes now darting to her face.

  “I even said please,” Adelaide says, batting her eyes at me.

  “Whatever. You weren’t raised in a barn is all that proves,” I say.

  “A tiny two-room flat, actually,” she says, turning back around to the table.

  “But you didn’t have dirt floors, did you? Or drink out of a trough?”

  She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even appear to have heard me. Just turns back around. Then all I hear is the sound of a pencil sketching against paper.

  “All right. Craft time is over. You’re leaving,” I say and turn and walk off, knowing what is about to come next.

  “What?!” I hear Adelaide say behind me. Then the sound of her footsteps. “You’re sending me away? How can you do that? I need help.”

  I halt and she notices a second late and stops a few paces in front of me. “And you’re ge
tting it. It’s just you can’t stay here,” I say.

  “Where am I supposed to go?” And now she sounds frantic, and the worry in her eyes is pure. She’s used to being alone, but not scared. And now she is both. Now that she realizes she’s not crazy, but actually powerful, she’s afraid. Generally people would rather be insane than talented, hence the reason that most choose drugs over greatness.

  “You’re going to London,” I say.

  Her eyes blink rapidly. This is a girl who has always been strong. I see that in her, but she’s close to crumbling now. We all have a breaking point. Well, not me. But everyone else.

  “I just got off a plane from London though. Like, this morning,” she says.

  “Well, then you’re going to have a bloody awful case of jet lag,” I say.

  “You can’t abandon me,” Adelaide says.

  I give her a long look. “Who says I was?”

  She blanches with surprise. “But you said—”

  “Why doesn’t anyone ever fucking listen? I said you were going back to London,” I say.

  “So you’re not abandoning me?”

  “Don’t say it like that,” I say with a grimace. “That makes us sound like we’re—”

  “Family,” she says, drawing out the repugnant word.