by H. D. Gordon
I'm sure that there are people who would literally kill to be able to do the things I can do, but they couldn't possibly understand what sort of deal they'd be making. Sure, being able to see the thoughts and memories just as that person does, or know their true intentions and inclinations can be useful, but the ability takes a toll. Sometimes, I feel as though I'm not built for it. I have trouble dealing with my own inner dwellings. Experiencing, understanding and knowing the struggles and battles of others is that much harder. Alexa doesn't understand why I try to be nice to most everyone I meet, unless and until they give me a good reason to dislike them. When people meet someone who is unkind, sometimes they say Well, you never know what they're going through & , but I do know. Over the years, I've known the loss of loved ones that were never mine, I've cried over harsh words that were never spoken to me, I've touched the anguish of spoiled love. Truly, and deeply, I've felt the damage of many souls in this world. And, as I said, sometimes I'm not sure if I'm built for it. I'm not sure if any single soul is.
So, the unexpected dread and pain radiating from the woman's soul in the store instantly shook me. I almost withdrew from her mind as a result of it, and had to force my feet to keep moving so as not to freeze in my tracks. My stomach tightened and my throat followed suit. These emotions weren't aged with memory, they were fresh and raw, and because I couldn't help myself, I sought out the source of the issue.
The first thing I got was a name, and with it, I did actually pause in my sneak around to the rear of the store. Mark. The warrior who'd lost to Kayden in the Arena. This woman was his sister, and she was worried about him beyond expression. None of these things caught me too off guard; Mark was bound to have family, and if Alexa had been hurt as bad as he had in the Arena a few days ago, I would be riddled with dark emotions as well. The thing that surprised me was that her dread wasn't because he'd lost in the Arena, it was because she was afraid of what was going to happen to him now.
I did my best to separate myself from the fear of Mark's sister, whose name I couldn't help but gather from her mind as well: Martha, or as those who knew her referred, Marty. Though I could empathize with her, it was actually lucky for me that her nerves were all in a tangle and her mind was a mess. It made it easier to take my mental hand and wrap my fingers around the heart of it. But, it hurt me in the same way she was currently hurting to have to be so near to it. If you command a person's soul, you undoubtedly feel the heat of it.
I didn't want to speak a command in my mind, as I had with the animals in the woods and with Victoria. This was a more delicate matter. I couldn't let her know that some outside force was grasping her. I needed to pass like silk over a glass table; make her think that the thoughts and actions I intended to place upon her originated from her own ambitions. So, I halted when I circled around and approached the back entrance of the small shop. There were no shrubs on this side, and no porch either, just a wooden door with polished hinges. I leaned my back against the wooden exterior of the house, the door just inches to my right. My hold on Marty grew ever steadier as I decreased the distance between us. I closed my eyes, and even though they remained shut, I slowly began to open my vision into Marty's being. Physically, I was standing outside in the almost dark. Mentally, I was fixing myself a cup of tea and fretting over a brother that didn't belong to me.
I knew where I wanted to go once I got inside, but the place wasn't set up like an average shop. In fact, with deeper recess into Marty's mind, I learned that it wasn't really a shop at all, and the name carved into the wooden hanging sign out front suddenly made sense to me. This was where people came when they wanted to place bets on the fighters in the Arena. Marty had taken the job as bookkeeper as an alternative to battling in the Arena herself. Apparently, most of the female Brocken's took jobs like this. I supposed my sister was a rarity in more ways than one.
But, Wagers wasn't just the betting booth that Martha managed, the rear of the structure was also her home. The front room, where one would enter should they want to place a bet, was sectioned off from the rest of the place. A counter and signs declaring rules and such hanging above it were about the only things in the front of the place, but behind the counter was a steel door, which led to a short hallway that led to another steel door. Beyond that door, was Marty's living area, which was nearly as sparse as the business side of the building. She had a combination kitchen/dining room, one full bathroom, a small living room, and an even smaller bedroom. She also had another steel door behind the wooden door that I was currently standing next to.
I should unlock the door, I thought, that way Gavin and the others won't have to wait outside when they get here. And, in my head, I watched as Marty locked the two steel doors that led to the shop, and passed through her small living area to first unlock the steel door, and then unlock the wooden one beyond it. A thought entered her head then, and I had to slap it away and insert my own. She'd wanted to peek outside the wooden door, even though she had no idea why. I'm just tired, I thought, Maybe I could use a cookie or two with my tea. Marty moved into the kitchen.
I took one final shuddering breath, and went in.
Turning the knob slowly, I pushed the first door open, keeping my hold on Marty's mind the entire time. Just stay in the kitchen, just stay in the kitchen. I pushed the second door open, the steel door, and cursed in my head when the hinges creaked ever so softly. From the kitchen, and in my head, I could feel Marty's brow crease, and her feet begin to move in my direction.
In my panic, I reached out and stole the memory of the squeaking hinge from her mind like a sweet-smiling pickpocket. Marty stopped in her tracks, unable to remember why just a moment ago she wanted to go check on something in the living room. Just stay in the kitchen. Have a cookie. Sweat swam down my back. Marty shrugged, thinking that whatever she'd been thinking of would come back to her in a minute. I tucked the memory into a holey pocket in my mind. It wouldn't be coming back to her. She turned to a small cabinet near the sink and pulled out a box of Oreos, which were her weakness in human food. She wasn't sure if she really wanted to have one. They held no nutritional value for her, but for some reason, she always enjoyed the taste. She pulled one from the box and leaned against the counter. I wiped a hand across the back of my neck and wrinkled my nose when it came back wet. Then, I slipped between the crack I'd opened in the steel door.
I went immediately to the small coat closet that rested to the side in the small living room, not stopping to study any of the dÈcor or design of the room. I bite my lip when I placed my moist hand on the knob of the closet door. Praying to whomever that these hinges were without voice, I twisted my wrist and pulled gently. The closet door swung out with no protest. I turned my body to the side, and slipped inside. I held the knob twisted until I pulled the door shut again, and then slowly released it so that the latch could slide silently into place. In the kitchen, I released Marty before she could eat her fifth Oreo.
I sat down in the small closet, noting that it was just as bare as the rest of the house. Only one coat hung from the rack over my head and a small umbrella lay tucked against one of the walls. It was pitch dark inside, with only the seam of light coming in from the bottom of the door. I tucked my knees against my chest because there was absolutely no way to spread out in this space, and scooted back on my butt until my back met the back wall. I concentrated only on breathing quietly and waiting. The meeting would start in about twenty minutes.
On the other side of the door, Marty had just exited the kitchen and was making her way over to the leather recliner that sat next to the leather sofa in the living room. She clutched her teacup between cold hands, wondering if she had ever felt warm in this place. She couldn't understand why she was so worried about her brother, she'd just checked on him in the hospital this morning, and he'd seemed to be getting better. Sure, he'd surrendered in the Arena, and even though she loved him, she was admittedly a little ashamed by this fact. But, whether it was frowned upon here at Two Rivers or not, surre
ndering was an option that the warriors always had. So, why did she feel so sure, in her gut, that Mark was in danger? She couldn't shake the feeling that she was close to losing him somehow. The question she wanted answered wasn't so much why did she feel that way, the question was what was she going to lose him to?
I pulled out of her head then. My worries over my own sibling were too strong to take on someone else's as well. I would have to keep my guard up, in case Marty decided she needed to get into the coat closet or something, but I relaxed a little because I kind of needed a break. I hadn't been lying when I'd told Jackson that I was tired. For me, mental exertion has always been more taxing than physical exertion. I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes once more. The darkness behind my closed lids was somehow more appealing than that in front of my open eyes anyway.
When a knock sounded on the door, about fifteen minutes later, my head snapped up and my eyes popped open. I cursed myself in my head. I hadn't intended to, but I'd almost fallen asleep here in Marty's closet. I could only imagine what her thoughts would have been if she were to open this door later, and find me curled up and passed out in her coat closet. I was wide awake now. My mind was wide awake too.
Marty made her way over to the door. Who's there? she asked.
Me, said a gruff voice. I knew it to belong to Gavin. My mind reached out and found that he wasn't alone, though. Two others were with him. Patterson, of course, was one. And, to my utter surprise, Ms. Baker, my teacher, was the other.
Marty called out, It's open, and the three made their way inside.
I pulled away from their minds, trying to focus myself on the conversation. How are you doing? Gavin asked, sounding genuinely concerned about Marty.
Marty sighed. Worried sick. Can I get you guys anything to drink before we start?
All three guests declined. Marty told them they could have a seat then, and I assumed that they all did. Gavin spoke softly, What exactly are you worried about?
I'm not even sure, Marty began. I just am. I thought you were going to help me figure that out.
I will, Gavin replied. But, Marty, I need to know that what we say here won't leave this room. If you care about yourself and your brother, you'll need to take what I say as truth. Gavin paused. Then, you will need to choose a side.
There were a few moments of silence before Marty answered. I swear, what we say here will never leave this room. I trust you, Gavin. You've always been a good friend to me and my brother. Please, tell me what you know.
Ms. Baker spoke next. You know of the Prophecy, yes?
I could imagine that Marty's eyebrows were creasing along with mine, but after a moment's thought, I remembered Alexa telling me about a prophecy that she'd read from some journal the librarian had given her. Something about how she was supposed to save the world . I'd blown her off a little at the time, telling her that it was silly to believe in something like that. I'd been a very stupid girl these past few weeks.
I do, Marty said. What does that have to do with my brother? Her voice shook a little on that last word.
Gavin spoke again, and though his voice was as gruff as always, it took on a note of pain that I had never heard from him before. Let me try to explain, he began, and I could swear I heard him clear his throat. I know what you're feeling right now. You're worried sick about Mark and you have absolutely no reason why. You feel like somehow he's slipping away from you, like maybe tomorrow you'll wake up and not even be able to remember who he is. You can't shake the feeling that & that you re, he cleared his throat once more. That you're going to lose him somehow. That right?
Marty's voice wavered again. Yes. How do you know that?
Gavin's voice was hardly a whisper. I leaned forward and turned my head to place my ear against the closet door. Because, I think I had a son once, he said.
The room fell silent. Ms. Baker spoke softly, We know he had a son.
What, what are you talking about? Marty asked.
Everyone in this room has known Gavin for a very long time, said Patterson. Do you remember him having a son? he asked.
No, said Marty. And, I'm pretty sure I would remember something like that.
He was-, Gavin started, and couldn't seem to finish the sentence.
Just a baby when they took him, Ms. Baker supplied. It was awful. When Gavin came to me, I couldn't even recall the boy at all. And, when we talked about it, Gavin could hardly remember either. If not for the blue yarn, I probably wouldn't have believed him.
I'm sorry, said Marty. You're losing me.
Gavin found his voice. It doesn't matter. I don't remember him at all anymore & but I remember what I felt like when I realized he was gone. I remember the way my heart constricted. I remember the & the misery of it all. I had a wife, you remember her? Justina?
Marty seemed to take a moment to think about this. Oh, yes, she said. I remember. She passed away after that horrible car accident & Right?
Wrong, said Gavin. That's what they made everyone believe. Hell, sometimes I don't even know what the truth is anymore. But, in my heart, I believe that she died giving birth to my son. Do you remember what my wife was?
Hmm, Marty answered. I think I remember her being a Searcher? This is awful, and I don't agree with it, but I think I remember that because people were talking about how the two of you had married outside of your races & I'm sorry, but I'm still kind of lost here.
That's right, Gavin replied. We married outside of our races. We had a son who was of mixed blood. She died giving birth to him. They took him away from me. His voice cracked, and he stopped abruptly.
Ms. Baker jumped in. Gavin came to me the day after she died, the day after his son was born. He had almost no memory of the child, and the things him and his wife had purchased in anticipation of his arrival just disappeared from his possession. He was & a wreak. All he knew was that he was upset because of the car accident, the reason he believed he'd lost his wife the day before. But, there was something more & I know it hurts, but you can really explain it better than I can.
Gavin spoke again. I had gone for a walk in the woods. I couldn't stand to be around anyone. I went to the spot where I used to take Justina, not deep into the forest, just a spot that we used to share together. There was this tree there. It was just one of the old pines, but it was a place that we would meet and hang out. Our tree. I'd carved our initials into it after our first date. I remembered that well enough. But, when I went back there, after the car accident , I found three sets of initials. The third I'd carved a week prior & for my unborn son. Who I couldn't remember really at all.
When Gavin seemed to pause indefinitely, Ms. Baker took over once more. He came to me and told me he thought he was losing his mind. I made him explain his thoughts to me, and if I'm being honest, I thought he was losing his mind too. Gavin and I have been friends since childhood, and I told him that I would definitely remember if he'd had a son. Then, I remembered the blue yarn. That morning, I'd gone into my sitting room, and there had been a ball of baby blue yarn on the end table. I'd picked it up and returned it to its rightful place, but I'd noticed that there was only a little bit of it left. I'd brushed it off as strange at the time. I couldn't remember taking it out and making anything with it. But, it was there. And, when I thought about it for a while, I seemed to have a faint impression in my mind that I'd been making a hat. A baby's hat.
Everyone fell silent for a long moment. Finally, Marty said, What happened to him?
We don't know, Patterson provided. I didn't believe Gavin when he came to me after that either. But, I trusted him enough to know that he wouldn't just make something like that up. A few of us started paying attention. People disappear around here a lot.
Marty gasped. Are they going to take Mark?
Once again, a thick silence fell over the room. Once again, Gavin cleared his throat. Maybe.
Well, we have to do something about it! Marty exclaimed. I'll be damned if I'll sit back and let them steal my only br
other away from me! I'll be Goddamned!
The side of my face was pressed firmly against the wooden closet door now, absorbed in every word of this strange conversation. Ms. Baker spoke next. Calm down, Marty-,
The hell I will! Marty said, cutting Ms. Baker short. What are you guys even talking about? Do you hear yourselves? People disappearing in the night, people forgetting that loved ones even existed, what the hell is this? What kind of conspiracy are you cooking up here?
Gavin said, Now, calm down, and his tone allowed for no argument. We know you are scared. Everyone is scared. We don't even know exactly what we are up against, but we know that something has to be done. And, the Sun Warrior has finally joined us.
The Sun Warrior? Marty asked. Oh, the Prophecy. You think that some seventeen year old girl is going to save us if what you are telling me is true?
Gavin's tone was full of confidence. You don't know her. I do. She may be seventeen, but she's brave and loyal and strong and smart. She'll do what is right.
Patterson added, He's right, Marty. I have every confidence in Alexa. But, we can't go sending her into the fire alone. You've seen King William's warriors. We will need everyone we can get to join us in the rebellion.
What makes you think there has to be a rebellion? Marty asked. Why can't we just go and voice our concerns to Queen Camillia? She's a good woman, she'll listen.
I'm afraid her hands are as tied as ours, replied Gavin. I haven't spoken with her about it, because I'm pretty sure King William has eyes everywhere. He is King after all. In fact, I have some suspicions about Thomas, the Queen's third Councilman? I can't prove it, but I have reason to believe that he was the one who tried to blow up the Warrior and the Queen a few weeks ago. But, these things are beside the point for now. Just listen, we won't demand that you join us, and you've already given your word that this conversation will never leave this room, but as we said, we can use all the help we can get.
