Sonder (Rise of the Omni Book 1)

by S. L. Horne

  “I don’t care what the fuck you think you can and cannot do. I’m telling you what you will do, and you’ll keep your goddamn voice down,” the other man responds, his tone stern and assertive.

  “It’s just a baby!” Elara risks looking around the corner and spies a short, chubby man conversing with a taller dark-haired counterpart. The portly one’s bald head glares from the lights above.

  “I understand fully that she’s just a baby, she’s my child. Don’t patronize me, you imbecile. She wasn’t supposed to survive this long. None of the others have made it to full term. Something is happening, and my abilities aren’t working on Io nearly as much anymore. We have to work faster on the plan, and this mutt will only get in the way.”

  Elara gasps and Denton quickly places his hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Her lips feel the tight press of his palm as she understands what the speaker is implying. Her stomach churns as she watched the tallest man pace back and forth in the room, his sharp-featured face set in pure hatred. His boney fingered hands grip on his belt, pushing his coat behind them. “You’ll do as I have told you to when Katherine gets her to you.”

  “Thyone, Sir, I can’t do what you ask…” the bald man pleads. Sweat beads on his forehead and soaks his shirt around the collar.

  Whirling around, the dark-haired man strikes him across the face. “You can, and you will!” Emphasizing the last word, his voice carries down the hall. The blow knocks the shorter man back several steps and his visitor name tag skitters across the ground to the doorway where Elara and Denton stand. The visitor tag glitters up at them, the name ”Phyllis” scrawled on it in chicken scratch handwriting.

  The heated conversation having reached a conclusion, Elara and Denton turn to leave before someone spots them. As they turn away, a woman’s desperate cry floods the hallway.

  Elara rushes toward the sound, her concern for self-preservation lost faster than it came. A connecting corridor opens with swinging doors and she sees that same hospital employees, the couple from earlier, helping push an occupied bed into a room. The white-haired nurse catches Elara’s gaze for a moment before turning back to her task.

  “Move aside Katherine. I need to get through.” She pushes the patient she addresses aside.

  “Prithee, do you see it?” The patient's tan face with almond eyes looks down at her fingers, picking at the tip of her middle nail, over and over. “Chugga chugga!”

  “Tristen, I need you to move her. Get her out of here, now!” The white-haired woman in the nurse’s uniform gestures widely, directing her companion to move the patient she calls Katherine. Elara watches the scene, intent on the two who gave them directions from earlier. Something about them does not fit. “I said now!”

  Elara and Denton watch as the group moves faster when the patient strapped to the bed lets out another ear-splitting wail. They disappear behind another set of double doors, Tristen staying behind to bar Katherine from entering the room. She claws at him with frantic movements, resulting in Tristen grabbing her by the upper arms and dragging her away. Having successfully discarded the patient, he quickly rejoins his partner. Elara and Denton exchange glances.

  Another scream vibrates from behind the now closed doors, and they look toward the room with concern.

  “Is that, my mother?” Elara looks away from the commotion and turns to Denton. Everything is happening too fast for her to process it all. He takes her hand and replies saying he is just as uncertain about what is happening as she is.

  For the first time, Elara begins to make the connections from her painting visions to what is happening around her. She had never thought the stories she saw in her mind were anything more than her overactive imagination. Realization washes over her, and horror follows close behind.

  “That woman, what was she doing?”

  Muffled sounds still penetrate through the doors the birthing mother disappeared behind, and before they can decide what to do next, the doors burst open again. The white-haired nurse and the man she called Tristen rush out, the nurse carrying a bundle in her arms. She hesitates a moment as she sees Elara and Denton watching her, then continues on her way. She nods her head at them as her partner comes to her side. Then with only another moment’s hesitation, they take off running down the hall as the bundle lets out a wail.

  “Wait!” Elara turns to follow them, but Denton stops her.

  “Let them go,” he says, his voice gentle, but firm. “You cannot change what has happened here.”

  “Yes, I can!” She fights to get away from his grip, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “You think I wanted this life? This whole time I didn’t even know I was adopted. Then to find out about it, only to think my mother just didn’t want me, and now I see they took me from her? And was that my father back there?” Her questions spiral out of control, and she collapses to the ground. “I just don’t understand anything anymore!”

  Denton releases her, then leans against the wall and slides down to sit next to her where she’s plopped herself down on the floor. “Are you ashamed of who you are now?” he asks but Elara doesn’t answer. “Okay, so bad things happened to you, but they’re a part of what has made you who you are. You can’t take away all of those bad things without it affecting you and everyone else in your life.”

  “I came back to find out what happened. I needed to know.” Large tears well up in her eyes and cascade down her face.

  “I know you did, and now you do. But it’s a part of your story, even if you don’t realize it. It’s a part of who you are, Elara. You can’t just change that.” He turns his head to look at her, his eyes commanding her attention.

  Phyllis comes into the hallway then looking flustered. Paying them no mind, he shuffles past them and into the room where the earlier action has now settled down. He reaches the door and looks inside the glass window. Appearing not to find what he’s looking for, he turns to scan the hallway.

  “Katherine?” The discarded patient is nowhere to be found. They watch Phyllis with curiosity. “Katherine?” he calls out again, and this time is met with a thud coming from a nearby janitor’s closet.

  He looks around again, his gaze only stopping for a moment on Elara and Denton, then appears to decide the young couple isn’t worth his worry and starts fussing with the closet handle.

  “Katherine?” Phyllis calls out a third time. With his ear pressed up against the door, he shakes the knob. A muffled clatter coming from inside gets louder. “Stand back…” He uses his body weight to shoulder the door. It bursts open with a loud crack, and Phyllis tumbles inside.

  From where Elara sits, she can see only a small section of the closet’s interior. Katherine struggles, the hefty man having knocked her down and landed on top of her. Elara hears the patient’s high-pitched voice yelling at Phyllis to get off of her, and a minute later he stumbles out of the small storage room.

  “You fucking dumbass!” Katherine berates him, stepping out of the closet behind him after climbing over fallen brooms and various cleaning supplies. Phyllis takes a step back for each step Katherine advances in his direction, the crazy look in her eyes from before now gone, and the now apparent act of a mental patient having fallen away. Bright red with anger, veins in her face bulge as she yells at him.

  “Did you, um, get it?” Phyllis makes a face when he says the last word, and Katherine immediately backhands him.

  “Of course, I fucking didn’t! I was in a closet. You think I could get that child from inside a closet? That mutt threw me in there before I could get into the room!” She continues smacking his face. Phyllis puts up his chubby hands in self-defense, and she smacks him on his shoulders and chest instead.

  “What are we going to tell him then?” Phyllis asks. His face is pink from her blows, and he continues to back up to avoid her assault.

  “We? Oh, no, no. You. You are going to tell him. I’m not getting punished for this! As far as he knows, I got the child and did my part. I suffered in this hell hole acting cracked i
n the head, biding my time until I could get close enough to nab the child for you. I did my part! Do you understand?” Although the woman is petite, the fire in her eyes melts the pitiful man’s argument before it even starts. Katherine turns on her heels and storms off, leaving Phyllis standing in the hallway speechless and embarrassed.

  He adjusts his clothing and looks around. Seemingly unaware he’s being watched, Phyllis turns in the same direction Tristen and his companion ran off to earlier, and Denton and Elara get up to follow.

  The tail of his wrinkled and oversized shirt trails behind him as he takes the stairs toward an exit. Denton and Elara follow but are careful to keep a discreet distance. Phyllis’s footsteps and heavy breathing echo loudly through the stairwell, allowing them to trace the man’s steps without being heard.

  A door bursts open, leading to a parking garage, and the pair exchanges a wary look before taking the same exit.

  Denton warns Elara, “We have to be careful, I think he is a Vodyanik. There are many terms for his current condition, but he is definitely mad. They don’t take kindly to being upset.”

  “What is a Vod–a Vod –ya–neek? Or whatever you said?”

  “Also known as a Nix, or a male siren of sorts. No one really knows which legend has it correct. Nasty Dark Fae, though. Did you see how he stumbled into the closet? It’s because his clothes are wet on the ends, that made him slip. They can shapeshift, but they cannot get rid of the constant wet hems of their clothes.

  “That one doesn’t seem to be the best at being a Soothsayer,” Denton continues. “I would say he’s a particularly nasty one since he’s not able to mesmerize anyone. He would be the type to just yank you under the water without lulling you into a trance to do it.” Denton’s distaste for the creature was obvious in how he described him.

  Before Elara could ask any more questions, a small sound of a baby crying bounces off the walls in the multi-story parking garage. They head in the direction of the cries, but end up several levels above the noise when a confrontation ensues. They see the slimy man called Phyllis is barking instructions at the white-haired woman still in her nurse’s uniform, and her companion Tristen, who is working feverishly to strap the screaming child into a car seat. A gun appears in Phyllis’s hand and he repeats his threats.

  “Hey, hey, hey! You don’t want to do anything rash now, do you? Put the gun down, Phyllis.” Tristen puts up his hands and tries to talk the Vodyanik down. “Kita, finish strapping her in, please.” He pulls the woman behind him and puts himself between her and the gun. Turning back to Phyllis he says, “Listen, I don’t know what he told you to do, but it’s not worth it. We’re just taking her away to keep her safe, we don’t mean any harm.”

  “Lies! You mutts are all the same!” Phyllis’s hands are shaking as he holds up the gun. “You think you can just do whatever you want. You’re gonna fuck up the plan, and we aren’t going to stand for it! Humans don’t deserve to walk around making all the rules. Things need to go back to the way they were before when we were treated like the gods that we are, instead of hiding away from them, letting them believe we were never real to begin with.” As Phyllis talks, Tristen steps closer and closer to him.

  “Is that what he told you? Is that the reasoning he’s giving you to make this all somehow acceptable?” Tristen cocks his head.

  “It’s the truth! I’m tired of being walked all over! We deserve better! Now,” he says, his words becoming more shrill with every sentence, “give me the child!”

  “Be careful what you say, Phyllis. You know what happens if you try to use your abilities on me. Just put the gun down. We can work something out, something that involves no one getting hurt.” Tristen stands so close to him now that the heated breath in the cold air from the short man’s mouth steams up his glasses.

  “I can’t. He told me what I have to do. If I don’t do what he says, his punishment will be far worse than anything you can do to me.” Phyllis’s voice shakes now. In a flash of movement, Tristen overpowers the Vodyanik and takes his gun.

  Elara looks at Denton and as quietly as possible, she asks, “If he’s a Soothsayer like you said, why doesn’t he make Tristen do what he wants?”

  “Because Tristen is an Omni. You heard Phyllis call him a mutt. I think they both are; Tristen and the white-haired woman he called Kita. No matter a Fae’s ability, if they use it on an Omni it drains that Fae’s life and power. If Phyllis were to tell Tristen what to do, he would sacrifice part of his life with every word he spoke. Not only would it drain his life, but it wouldn’t work, and then Tristen could use that same power back on him. It’s why everyone is afraid of Omnis,” Denton explains.

  Tristen takes the butt of the gun and strikes it across Phyllis’s face. Blood splatters onto the concrete, and fells the man like a heavy tree.

  Kita watches the confrontation, seemingly unconcerned. “Did you get her certificate made?” she asks Tristen.

  “Yeah, I left off the father, so he’ll never know.” Tristen turns away from Phyllis and rushes back to the car, shaking his fist in pain from the blow.

  The two Omnis climb into their car and peel out of the garage.

  Elara and Denton watch as Phyllis slowly rolls to his side and puts a hand to his dripping wound. Letting out a series of obscenities, he sits up and holds his spinning head. A piercing ring sounds from his jacket, his phone insisting his immediate attention. Pulling it from his pocket, he takes an older style phone out and flips it open.

  “Um, yes, Boss?” As Phyllis speaks, Elara can see a tooth has been knocked free from his mouth. He speaks with a slur. “Yes, Sir. Absolutely, Sir.” He tries to get to his feet but ends up dropping back to the ground. “I understand, Sir. I did as you ordered... I have killed and disposed of the child like you asked, Sir.”

  He looks around, fear in his eyes as he lies to his boss. “Just a bit of a fuss, nothing I couldn’t handle myself, Sir. Of course, right away.” Flipping the phone closed again he lets out another string of obscenities, this time more colorful and imaginative. He takes the phone in his hand and throws it straight at a concrete column, the device shattering on contact.

  “My father…” Elara begins in a hushed tone. “He wanted me dead? Does he know I’m alive? Does my mother?” Denton leads her out of the garage as she continues. “Where were they taking me? And why? I don’t understand why they took me?”

  Her mind spirals in a flurry of questions, and with every question, more come to her. They multiply and she gets lost in a spiderweb of thoughts. Her father wanted her dead? Her father wanted her dead. The realization shocks her thoughts back to the present.

  “I think they knew he was going to try something,” Denton says thinking out loud. “There are not many Omni left after the last war. It was an awful mess. The Dark Fae launched a bioweapon which resulted in the bubonic plague. It all started when the humans began to burn witches and when Catholicism spread like wildfire. Humans were even forcing each other to the faith, meaning they no longer saw the Fae as gods or goddesses, and they burned anyone they thought to have powers. The Light Fae struck a truce with the Dark Fae on behalf of the human race and married off one of their most powerful Seers to a Nix. They struck the deal to live among humans as normal people, to no longer make mortals bend to their wills. The Light Fae got to save the humans, but sacrificed their protection of all Omnis.”

  “So, they went into hiding, voluntarily? Sticking together to stay safe. But you said they can’t get hurt. I don’t understand. Why would they—” Elara corrects herself, “I mean, we—need to be protected?”

  “Because the abilities of an Omni to absorb the power used against them and deflect it back on those who threaten them are all still just as susceptible to basic weapons as any other. You can die in the flesh, the same as any human with the exception of natural causes. It’s only magic and old age you’re safe from.”

  “You talk about all this as if you’ve experienced it,” she says.

  “I have.
” The look in Denton’s eyes reflects a thousand words of pain. “We’re immortal as long as magic exists, in the sense that unless we die of unnatural causes, we don’t age past our prime. Those who wish to be seen as older can retain more years, and often the really old choose this, the idea being that respect is often given to an elder, rather than a younger looking person like myself. If magic is done with a huge imbalance, that can age a Fae as well.”

  Immortal. The word stands out in Elara’s mind. She is immortal. Suddenly she wonders when she will wake up from this never-ending dream. Of all the information she has received up to now, the thought of living forever is daunting. Does she know others that just never seemed to age? How many Fae are really out there, living next to her, walking by her on the streets, having done so for hundreds of years? Her immediate problems seem so small now compared to the lifetime she still has ahead of herself.

  “So, what do I do now? I came back to see why my mother gave me up, and now I know my father put orders out to have me killed, and I think I was taken away from her unwillingly. I don’t know what to do, Denton. It’s all wrong, and none of it is good.” Tears stream down her face. “I didn’t want any of this!”