by Joshua Roots
My heart pounded and my hands went all sweaty as heavy footsteps clanged down the staircase. Apparently someone upstairs was listening, because the human meat-missile thumped across the library and exited without hesitation. I released the breath I’d been holding and eased back into the room, but jumped behind the naked plaster man once more when I heard more murmuring from upstairs. The voice was female and it rose in pitch.
I drifted toward the stairwell, pausing underneath it so I could hear the conversation more clearly.
“Alex, please,” Carla said in a weary voice. “Three of my people are dead. It’s a major tragedy, both personally and politically. Any momentum we might have gained is stalled while both sides recover from this. The only positive thing out of the entire situation is that the Delwinn Council is willing to work with us to focus on the heroics.”
A meeting? No wonder Mr. Charisma had shooed the drunken woman away.
Carla paused, started to speak, then paused again. I realized she was on the phone.
“Yes, of course I am still trying to help you all,” she finally answered, “but you have to understand my position as well. I’m just the Ambassador to the Skilled, so I don’t have a lot of pull within their organization. These things take time. If we push them too hard, they’ll lock us out for good and we’ll be right back where we started. Yes, I’ll talk with the Elders, again. Keep in mind, however, they are going to be extra cautious in the wake of this attack. Alex...Alex, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have to cut this short. Send Monica Father Pierce’s availability and I’ll see if we can set something up. Indeed. Yes, you too.”
Carla hung up, then cursed. “I’ve been telling him the same damn thing for months now,” she grumbled. “You’d think he’d listen.”
“You’re free next Wednesday if you want me to pencil Pastor Rado into your schedule,” a different voice said.
“Thank you, but don’t bother. Alex means well, but our priorities have shifted.”
“Stiff-arming him?” Monica asked.
The Ambassador sighed. “Yes. I feel bad for him. Really, I do. He’s just the messenger. But none of his superiors seem to understand how inherently skittish the Council is. Or that they are just as busy as the rest of us.”
My Spidey-Senses went into high alert. The Council was skittish about a lot of things, but anything that had Carla and this Pastor Rado person lathered up was worth investigating. Especially since she referenced the attack.
“But enough business,” Carla said, firmly. “There’s a party that needs my attention.”
There was a scuffling sound like a chair on hardwood floors and I scooted back behind the statue. Carla spun down the stairwell with surprising grace considering her outfit. She was followed by a plump brunette that I assumed was Monica. The ladies chatted quietly as they crossed the room and exited through the door.
Alone in the library, my mind ran over the Ambassador’s conversation. My curiosity about Mr. Charisma sated, a new hunger about the Ambassador and this Pastor Rado person gnawed at my insides. It sounded like he, or the group he represented, wanted an audience with the Elders. But something about the insistence of the request caused warning flags to go off in my mind. Why would the Pastor be so focused on a meeting, especially with the attack at HQ still fresh in everyone’s minds?
I glanced at my watch and cringed. It’d been over ten minutes since I’d left Steve. With the Ambassador back in the throng, I couldn’t afford to be missing much longer. But I also couldn’t shake my curiosity. Opting to satisfy the latter, I eased out of the alcove and climbed the stairwell.
Like the rest of the library, the recess was a cozy space with a large, wooden desk that offered an impressive view of the back lawn of Carla’s estate. The desk was covered with photos and trinkets, but no paper files. Not that I was surprised, but I was annoyed. It was a new age and almost everyone, including the Ambassador, kept their To-Do list or schedules on a tablet or phone.
It was a massive inconvenience for those of us wanting to poke through their personal belongings.
I moved some bills around before noticing a small legal pad with hand-drawn images. Most were the doodles of a bored person, with random bubbles surrounding words or dates. There was nothing about “Pastor Rado,” so I pulled my phone out of my pocket and put the name into the search engine.
The results were varied, covering everything from a defunct toothpaste brand to a Ska cover band in Orlando. Interesting as those sounded, I was willing to bet the person I was looking for was the Pastor Alex Rado from a non-denominational church in Maryland.
“Why are you pressuring my new friend Carla?” I asked the image on his biography page.
Whatever his motivations, I wasn’t going to get the answers that evening. Instead, I saved the web address, then tucked the phone back into my pocket.
Deciding I’d over-extended my time away, I slid down the stairs, checked to make sure the coast was clear, and slipped into the hallway.
“Where the hell have you been?” Steve demanded as I wandered back into the main room.
“Spelunking. Where’s my drink?”
He took a pull from his bottle of wine. “I got tired of holding it, so I pitched it.”
“Fair enough. So, did I miss anything?”
He snorted. “Hardly. Most of the guests have avoided me. Which is nice. I hate when groupies hover in my aura of awesome.”
“I bet,” I said sarcastically.
He ignored my quip. “Your buddy Mick and that badass Elsa stopped by.”
“Where’d they go?”
“From the way they were all over each other, I’m guessing upstairs.”
I chuckled. Ah, puppy love. Or, considering those two, it was more like Rottweiler Lust.
“Oh, and one of those Council stiffs was looking for you.”
My shoulders tensed. “Which one?”
“Old dude, beard, fancy robes.”
I frowned. “That describes almost everyone on the Council.”
Steve shrugged. “You humans all look the same to me.”
“Har har. Was he cool or kind of a jackass?”
“Complete jackass,” he said with a wry grin. “Which also describes most humans, come to think of it. I do make a few exceptions for you and your dad, though. The rest of your species kinda’ sucks.”
“It’s a shame you feel that way, Minotaur.” Steve and I turned. I flushed as Elder Devon gave us a tight smile. “Some of us have been championing your cause for decades.”
“Well, waddya know,” Steve said, nodding at the man. “Here he is.”
Devon gave Steve a withering glare that bounced ineffectively off the beast’s apathetic hide.
The old man gave me the once-over with a disapproving look. “You are not in your formal robes.”
“I dropped them off at the dry cleaners the other day so they’d be all pretty for our shindig on Saturday. They weren’t ready for pick-up yet.” That was a lie. They’d been sitting there for at least a week. I just hadn’t bothered to get them.
“Well, I’m grateful you’re here.” His tone didn’t match his words. “Even if you’re out of uniform,” he added with a hint of annoyance.
“Would have been here sooner,” I said in an exasperated voice, “but my date here kept worrying about what to wear.”
Steve brushed imaginary lint from his shoulder. “You can’t rush this much sexiness.”
The Elder fought to maintain control of his neutral expression. He inhaled, then leaned in. “Please behave this evening. Remember, you’re representing the Council here.”
I raised my right hand. “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”
“Just keep smiling,” Devon growled before stalking off, muttering curses under his breath.
“So that’s one of the dudes you’re reporting to now that you’re the Council poster-child, eh?” Steve asked.
The knots in my shoulders eased the farther Devon moved away. “Yup.”
“Sucks to be you.
”
Mr. Charisma appeared as the Elder vanished into the crowd.
“Time for the ceremony.” His steely expression hinted that there were no other options.
“Excelsior!” I said with a flourish of a hand. The security man’s upper lip curled ever so slightly, but he said nothing. Instead, he pointed at a woman in a tux carrying a set of small chimes. She walked through the crowd, tapping the chimes lightly.
The noise of conversation dimmed as guests were ushered by the wait-staff toward the base of the large staircase. I spotted Mick and Elsa who waved and walked over. The guard was absolutely stunning in her blue gown. Had she not been with Mick, I wouldn’t have recognized her.
“Elsa, you look amazing.”
She beamed. “Thank you. I’m more comfortable in gym clothes, but sometimes a girl needs to dress it up a bit.”
“Well, you succeeded. You’re not bad yourself, Mick,” I added, tapping the side of my lip. The Healer grinned sheepishly as he rubbed the smudge of lipstick off his mouth.
Carla weaved through the guests and climbed to the middle of the staircase. The crowd fell silent. “Thank you all for attending this evening, especially on such short notice. I rarely accept last-minute invitations myself, so you all are much better guests than I am.”
Everyone laughed appropriately.
“She’s good,” Steve said in a low voice.
“Like you pointed out, she’s in her natural element.”
“As many of you know by now,” Carla continued once the humor died, “my office suffered some terrible losses recently. Before we go any further, I’d like to have a moment of silence for the friends and colleagues who were taken from us so suddenly.”
The room became deathly quiet as Carla bowed her head. Most everyone followed suit—including Steve—but I kept my eye on things. Part of that was my standard sense of paranoia, the other part was a healthy dose of awkwardness at praying in public.
Carla raised her head. “Thank you. Now, as much as we are saddened by the loss of Meghan, Archie and Tony, we must do our best to focus on the fact that the attack could have been much worse. Although the Council and I are still trying to piece together who was responsible, I can say for certain that without the heroic actions of several people from both societies, the loss of life would have been far greater. Marcus, Elsa and Mick, can I have you three up here, please?”
The crowd parted, but as we moved toward the stairs, I leaned over to Mick. “What about Thetra, Devon and Pell? They helped too.”
“Thetra and Pell couldn’t make it. Devon’s an Elder. You know how much they hate attention. Lead from the shadows and all that.”
“You mean ‘don’t get their hands dirty,’” I replied.
We cut our conversation short as we reached Carla, then turned to face the audience.
“These three,” she said, “were the ones responsible for saving not only my life, but the lives of my surviving staff, not to mention many Skilled. For those who have not heard the story, all I can say is you need to watch the news or check social media because I’m not going to repeat it for you.”
The crowd laughed on cue once more while I struggled to maintain my smile like Devon had instructed.
Carla held up her hands, quieting the audience. “As for the reason why I’m throwing this impromptu shindig, I wanted to thank these three personally before I do so formally at the Reformation Ball later this week. This intimate gathering is for Skilled and Normals alike with no media and no propaganda. That will come later, but for now, let’s just celebrate the courage of these people. Let us also celebrate the hope their actions bring for both societies as we continue to reforge the bonds broken so long ago.”
The crowd erupted into applause as Carla shook each of our hands enthusiastically. Her words to me were lost to the noise, but I smiled anyway. Then we all faced the audience, soaking in their cheer. After what felt like an eternity, Carla motioned for us to head back down the stairs.
We descended into a mass of handshakes and backslaps which lasted forever.
Eventually the guests dispersed, filtering back to the bar or buffet tables. I continued to field questions and compliments, but all the faces became a big blur. When I finally had a chance to catch my breath, I nodded to Steve who ducked outside. He reappeared, giving me a thumbs up.
“I’m out of here,” I said to Mick, shaking his hand.
“Too much partying?”
“Yeah, I’m bushed. You two kids have fun,” I added to Elsa.
“Oh, we will,” she replied, giving Mick a wink that almost made me envy the guy.
Thankfully, I escaped the clutches of the party before anyone else—including Elder Devon—could stop me. I nearly dove headfirst into the limo. Steve was already inside, so the driver shut the door and pulled away from the house at warp speed.
The trip from McLean to Great Falls was spent in silence. The driver eventually stopped outside the main gates of the Homestead and opened the door. The Minotaur unfolded himself, stretching once outside.
“You walking the rest of the way?” I asked.
“It’ll help sober me up. Thanks for the invite, by the way. Don’t tell anyone, but I had a good time.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
Steve waved at the small guard shack by the gate. “Yo, Frank. Lemme in!”
The old security man waved back and the gates swung open. Steve thumped through them while the limo backed out and headed toward Reston. We arrived a few minutes later to the flashes and shouts of both reporters and protesters. I tipped the driver well, then disappeared inside my townhouse as quickly as possible.
The silence indoors was almost sensual. I soaked in the quiet, sighing contentedly as the comfort of my own home wrapped me in its warm embrace. Slipping off my jacket, I hauled my tired body up the stairs, gave the house a quick check, and was disappointed that Quinn wasn’t there to jump me again. After an evening of being wined and dined, spending some alone time with her would have been magical.
Instead, the house suddenly felt large and impersonal.
My old phone, which had been sitting neglected on my nightstand all day, buzzed several times as I undressed and crawled into bed. I grimaced, annoyed at myself that I hadn’t powered the thing down. I grabbed the device, but as I went to shut it off, I froze. My stomach sank into my socks. The screen was filled with the text messages I’d missed and all of them were the exact same.
Sleep well, puppet, the message read. Because you’re living on borrowed time.
Chapter Nine
Soul Reasons
The sun was beating down on the Gray Ghost when I pulled into the parking lot of Frederick Interfaith. A large, bland structure, the church had the charm of a soggy cardboard box. According to its website, it’d been built ten years earlier, held three non-denominational services on Sunday, and offered pre-K, Kindergarten and after-school programs.
The inside of the church was a completely different animal.
Walls were covered with finger-painted pictures from the various classes while an old corkboard hung outside the admin offices. I scanned the photos tacked next to the lists of church events. There were pictures from a couple’s retreat, a mission trip to Romania, and even a potluck dinner. In all of them, people were smiling. Not fake, posed smiles, but natural, candid ones.
I couldn’t help feeling a pang of sadness. On the one hand, it was heartening to see people actually enjoying the fellowship of others. To belong to a community that accepted and loved one another. But it was also something many hungered for, but few actually found.
Myself included.
“Can I help you?” someone asked in a sweet voice.
I pulled my gaze away from the pictures to the plump, silver-haired lady with large glasses. She was so cheery that I expected she might spontaneously combust in a shower of homemade cookies at any moment.
“Yes ma’am,” I said, unable to resist her perky demeanor. “I have an appointm
ent to see Pastor Rado.”
Her grin deepened. “Ah, you must be Marcus Shifter.”
“I hope so. Otherwise I’ve been getting someone else’s mail for years.”
The lady laughed. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Meredith, I’ve been the Office Administrator here since the Pastor was in diapers. He’s finishing another meeting, so if you want to have a seat, I’ll get you when he’s free. Can I offer you coffee or water?”
“No thank you. I’m fine.”
“Well, if you change your mind, we have fresh pots of regular and decaf.”
I thanked her again and she disappeared back into the offices. I poked around the foyer for another minute, then wandered through the large, double doors into the sanctuary.
The room was enormous, able to seat a thousand or more people at one time. Large screens hung on either side of the wide stage that was filled with microphones, a piano and an organ. A large chorus area was directly behind the altar. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass window above the stage, casting multi-colored shafts of light across the pews.
The warmth and silence of the sanctuary welcomed me, inviting me to sit and relax. I hesitated, caught in limbo between a desire to melt into the waiting arms of quiet and the awkwardness of seeing the large cross over the altar.
My family had never been overly religious, but after the damage my summoning had caused all those years ago, the folks started attending a local church. I joined them from time to time, more out of familial duty than actual desire, but the sermons never made an impact. Religious zealots had persecuted tens of thousands of the Skilled over the years and it was hard to simply ignore that fact.
It was also hard for me to fully believe any entity, godly or otherwise, could wholly forgive me for what I’d done.
Especially since I was still trying to forgive myself.
Despite my misgivings, I caved to my desire to inspect the piano. And since the sanctuary was empty, my plinking on the keys wouldn’t bother anyone, right?
Initially I just screwed around, but after a few minutes I actively tried to remember some of the principles from my instructor. My right hand spread easily to make a ninth chord, but my left ached when I tried to do the same.
