by Mary Lindsey
I resumed my seat at the foot of the table.
Charles shuffled the papers in front of him and tapped a stray paper into place. “Speaker 102, you asked if we held hearings to make ourselves feel better. The answer is no. We hold them because sometimes a miracle happens. Sometimes we need to be reminded that there are circumstances under which rules should be broken. Sometimes we need to show the same compassion to each other that we show to the Hindered.”
My heart was hammering so hard, I was certain everyone in the room could hear it.
I held my breath as Charles continued. “You have delivered a miracle today. You put Alden’s breach into context for us. We have decided unanimously that Alden’s choice was justified and his soul should not be discontinued.”
I inhaled through my nose. My lungs ached as if I’d been underwater too long.
“He will be on probation, however,” Charles continued. “The two of you will check in with us one month from today for reevaluation. We will not allow you to step out of your role as Speaker until that time. You and Alden must perform your job as usual until we meet again. It is our sincere hope that you will change your mind during this month and decide to remain a Speaker.”
Charles nodded to the others, and they exited, leaving me alone at the opposite end of the long, shiny table from him. Paul stuck his head inside the room. “Ophelia said you wanted to speak with me, sir?”
Charles folded the top paper from the stack in front of him in quarters and then over several more times. “Yes. I would like to converse with Speaker 102 privately for a few minutes.” He deftly folded the corners on a diagonal. “Do you understand what I’m asking of you, Paul?”
Paul glanced up at the camera bubble. “Yes, sir. I’ll take care of it.” He strode from the room, closing the door behind him.
I watched in silence as Charles placed the pinwheel of paper in his palm and began to twist it. He smiled at me, then pulled on the exposed edges.
“You said you had been my mentor in my early cycles.” I nodded to the paper he was working on with amazing speed. “Did you teach me origami too?”
His fingers never stopped moving, even when he looked at me to answer. “I did.”
I clasped my hands in my lap, resisting the urge to work on my own partially finished paper in front of me.
“Have you put the pieces together yet?” he asked, rotating the paper in his palm as he worked his way around, shaping the paper.
“You’re the elder Rose went to with her request.”
He answered with a smile, then placed his completed paper rose on the reflective tabletop. “Even Council elders aren’t permitted to tamper with the recycling of souls. Not even if it is for the best of reasons.” He stood and walked to the door. “Do you understand?”
I stood. “I do.”
“I think it best that you convey the outcome of the hearing to your Protector yourself.” Charles winked and handed me Alden’s USB drive before opening the door. “Be careful, Speaker 102. We don’t take second chances lightly, and neither should you.”
He nodded to Paul, who escorted me back to the lobby, where Race was wringing his hands and pacing.
When I gave him the news, he whooped so loud, hotel patrons stared. After kissing me and hugging me to the point I thought my ribs would break, he invited Paul to the bar in the hotel lobby for drinks.
I watched as Paul slid on a stool next to Race. Paul presented ID and the bartender gave him a beer. The fake ID didn’t surprise me. Nothing about the IC would surprise me. These guys lived in a world that would seem unreal to anyone who wasn’t inside it. A world of ghosts. A world where Heaven and Hell could be confirmed. A world that made a difference. My world.
Squinting, I stepped out of the lobby into the sunshine. I knew exactly where Alden would be. I ran down the drive of the Hotel Galvez, across Seawall Boulevard, and down the stairs that led to the Gulf.
This was the beach where the happy memory Alden had shown me took place. For the first time ever, the sound of the ocean brought peace instead of dread.
I paused when I stepped off the concrete step into the sand. I inhaled the salty sea air and faced into the wind, letting it blow through my hair. Dad’s death would always sting, but because of Alden, I understood it was beyond my control—just like Zak’s death was beyond my control. Alden had enabled me to help Zak find that shaft of white light he deserved. I could only hope another Speaker had done that for my dad if he needed help.
I brushed away my tears and struck out through the sand. The sun was brilliant, and even though it had been cool for several days, the temperature was in the seventies. I loved this place, and I loved Alden, who was leaning against the seawall staring at the surf. I knew he could feel the joy my soul was transmitting.
When I met Alden that first time at my dad’s grave, I was certain he was a figment of my imagination. Nothing could be more real than this.
He didn’t look at me as I approached; he continued staring out at the waves. This was the first time I’d ever seen him without a shirt. My throat tightened when I noticed a small tattoo of an origami rose on his upper arm. A smile pulled at the corners of his beautiful mouth as I placed the USB drive on his discarded shirt and brushed his hair away from his face.
“Hey, Lenzi,” he whispered, barely louder than the surf.
“Rose,” I said as our lips met. “My name is Rose.”
