Guardian

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Oh, Senator Winchester is still in Paramount City. He spends most of his time up there.”

  “And here I thought he was a ‘down-to-Earth’ sort of guy.” Dorian winked.

  Kirsten gazed at the clouds. “Help me.”

  “I can send him a message if you like, Lieutenant.” Marguerite half hid behind the door.

  Dammit. Well, better than doing something stupid. She blinked. “I need to see Seraphina then.”

  “Now is not a good time. She’s not feeling well.”

  “She’s going to feel a whole lot worse soon when the ghost rips his lungs out of her.”

  Marguerite gasped, her accent grew thicker. “Mon dieu! You really do talk to the spirits.” She backed up, opening the door. “Entrez! Entrez! It is freezing.”

  Not waiting to be led, Kirsten entered and raced up the stairs. Dorian rushed in before Marguerite could slam the door through him again. The synthetic muttered in French, hiked up her dress, and hurried after them. The sound of sobbing and shouted pleas of “let me go” echoed down the third floor hallway.

  Kirsten barged into Seraphina’s room, halting in the doorway at the sight of the willowy snow-blonde girl struggling to escape padded wrist and ankle cuffs holding her to the bed like a patient in a mental facility.

  Theresa retrieved a comforter from the floor and replaced it over the girl’s lower body, though her continued thrashing promised to make it fall again soon.

  “Seraphina,” yelled Kirsten.

  Theresa jumped and let off a half-second of scream.

  “Great. Cops. Help! I’m being kidnapped!” Seraphina tried without success to sit up against a padded strap over her chest.

  Kirsten, gawking at Theresa, ran to the bed. “What’s going on?”

  “Please, you must understand… the young lady attempted to kill herself. She was to jump from the roof.”

  “You’re making that up!” yelled Seraphina. “They’ve kept me tied up for two days against my will.”

  Both women looked sincere. Kirsten skimmed Seraphina’s surface thoughts. A large amount of terror at being restrained dueled with feelings of worthlessness. She did attempt to kill herself, though at that second, fear at being helpless dominated her thoughts, making it impossible for Kirsten to tell if she meant to try again. A flash or two of dark blue surroundings came and went, Fizzle’s den. Walls swelled and sank back as if breathing, a cat-sized transparent purple phoenix circled near the ceiling, leaving a glowing trail in the air behind it. All around the room, warped versions of chairs and tables chatted to each other while sipping tea. The machines Sanjay used to make drugs grumbled and bickered like fantasy dwarves forced to toil in the deep mines. When the girl had been high on whatever chem made her see all that, she’d gotten a thrill from bondage―sober, being tied down scared her to death.

  “If you’re set loose, are you going to hurt yourself?” Kirsten kept listening to the girl’s thoughts.

  Seraphina stopped fighting and lay still, sweating and breathing hard. As the idea of being free danced in her head, the specter of wanting to die returned. “Of course not.”

  Kirsten looked down. “You can’t lie to a telepath, Seraphina. I’m sorry. There’s no legal right to suicide in the absence of a terminal diagnosis. If they have to restrain you to protect your life, they can.”

  “Please…” Seraphina cried. “Anyone could come in here and do whatever they wanted to me.”

  “I met the ghost of the man whose lungs you’ve got.” Kirsten flicked a thumbnail at her utility belt. “He was killed to get them for you.”

  Seraphina looked away, a sour face aimed at the massive pea-green curtains to her right. “I didn’t want to be saved, all right? You can tell him he can come get them back whenever he wants. Why do you think I did so much Icewhisper? I wanted to die.”

  “Why would you want to die? You’re young, pretty, comfortable… you’ll never have to work. And Fizzle is worried sick about you.”

  “Hah. Fizzle.” She laughed. “My father would never let him within a hundred miles of me… drug dealer. He’s just looking for a meal ticket.”

  “Are you sure?” Kirsten raised an eyebrow. “He seemed ready to go legit for you. Fizzle’s already stopped making whisp because of you.”

  “You read his mind too?” snapped Seraphina. She twisted her arms, but the straps held her delicate wrists secure. “Please let me out. I hate this so much.”

  “Why do you want to die?” Kirsten sat on the edge of the bed and held the girl’s hand.

  Seraphina squirmed, but couldn’t move enough to pull away. “Why the fuck do you think? You’re the psionic.”

  “If I had to guess based on that dream you were having, I’d say you’re most upset that your father won’t acknowledge you. I know this sounds lame, but the only opinion that matters about you is yours.”

  “Ugh.” Seraphina twisted her entire body, pulling at her arms and legs and trying to sit up. “You bitch.” She scowled at Theresa. “Let me out right now. You work for me!”

  Theresa folded her hands and looked down. “I cannot let you harm yourself.”

  “Grr.” Snowy hair matted over Seraphina’s face as she whipped her head to the left to glare up at Kirsten. “How would you feel if you spent half your life wondering who your father even was, then the rest being treated like half a person? He won’t admit to being my father. Says it’d cause ‘too many problems’ for his political career.”

  “I think he’s beyond that point now. When you ruined your lungs, he arranged for a man to be killed. He’s gonna go down one way or the other.”

  Seraphina rolled her eyes. “See? He wouldn’t even accept me to save my life. Has to keep everything hush hush. Probably won’t put ‘Winchester’ on my tomb. Besides, he’s a damn senator. You’ll never touch him.” She sagged limp, staring at the ceiling, her voice a weak whisper. “They own the world. You don’t understand. The Senate, the ACC, they talk. They make deals no one knows about.”

  “That’s called avoiding nuclear war and the extinction of humanity,” said Dorian.

  Kirsten squeezed the girl’s hand. “Why not force him? Threaten to go public?”

  Seraphina burst into tears, straining to get away from Kirsten. “No. I can’t do that to him. He’s an asshole, but he’s still my father. I won’t do anything to hurt him.” She tugged at her arms to wipe her face, and cried harder when she couldn’t.

  Theresa leaned in and dabbed her tears with a white cloth.

  “That man’s public opinion of you doesn’t matter. He obviously cares for you if he’s gone to these lengths to protect you. What he says to the world means nothing.”

  Seraphina scowled through a tangle of hair at her. “How could you possibly know what it feels like? All I’ve ever wanted was for him to say he’s my father. Fuck all this money.”

  Dorian sighed.

  Kirsten kept quiet for a little while, still holding Seraphina’s hand. “My mother hated me. No matter what I did, I could never be good enough. I made it to ten before she tried to kill me. I used to sit inside the closet she locked me in, listening to her scream and ask God why she was cursed with such a horrible beast for a child.”

  Seraphina seemed to melt into the pillow, jaw a little open, eyebrows furrowed. Theresa fussed at the young woman’s hair to set it to some kind of order.

  “My father… well, he did love me, but he was so afraid of the ghosts, he was always going on business trips. Every time his company needed someone to go somewhere, he’d volunteer. In three years, I think he might’ve spent a total of six weeks at home.”

  “I don’t remember my mother. I was like three or four and she left me with one of her friends, who I wound up thinking of as Mom. I used to make dolls out of old autoinjectors while she got high and slept with whoever had credits to burn. I think I spent the entire fifth year of my life naked because we had no money, or that woman never bothered buying anything other than food and drugs. You wouldn’t think it
, but the johns were pretty cool to me.” Seraphina took a wheezy breath and let it out. “One started buyin’ me stuff. Clothes at first, then a toy or two… nothing too expensive because that woman would’ve sold it. Those guys took more care of me than ‘Mom’ did. I still don’t know how she figured out Winchester was my dad… I was eight. She drags me here threatening to blast it all over the NewsNet.”

  Kirsten squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t all that bad. Could’a been way worse. None of the johns touched me. I didn’t get shot whenever the idiots outside got riled up.” She shrugged. “Course, Winchester assumed a paternity test would free him, but when it came back positive… That woman’s probably dead. I never saw her again. Overnight I went from street trash to princess. All the time he said I had to promise never to tell anyone I was his real daughter. Anyone that found out about me got some bullshit story about me being a charity case and he didn’t want publicity ‘for my protection.’”

  “I don’t understand. Having a child from an affair is not a big deal to the political crowd. It happens all the time.” Kirsten grumbled.

  “I know!” Seraphina tried to sit up again, which triggered a fit of thrashing and growling. “That’s why it’s so much worse. It’s like he’s doing it just to be cruel!”

  “It doesn’t make any sense, which means it must be who her mother is.” Dorian tapped a finger to his chin. “The only thing I can think of to scare him that much would be something that would jeopardize his position with the senate… I bet he had a tryst with a woman who held some kind of station in the ACC.”

  Marguerite twitched.

  “Either an intelligence agent or one of their political elite… either one would get C-Branch picking through everything the senator ever touched.” Dorian glanced at Marguerite. “She knows a lot more than she’s letting on… but it’s not that he has a daughter. It’s who he had her with.”

  “I think it’s more complicated than you realize.” Kirsten hesitated, trying to speak with care. “Did you consider the possibility your real mother’s life might be threatened if you weren’t a secret?”

  Seraphina flashed a pained expression.

  “I hope that’s the crush of regret and stupidity,” said Dorian. “She still suicidal?”

  Kirsten patted her hand. “Seraphina? You’ve survived a hard start in life. I don’t know how true Fizzle’s feelings are, that’s something you two will need to sort out. I can’t say why your father did what he did, but it’s not worth your life… especially if he’s protecting your real mother. Can you tell me you won’t hurt yourself and mean it?”

  Seraphina stared at the tents her feet made in the comforter. “I don’t know. Is that ghost going to tear my lungs out?”

  “Technically, they’re his,” muttered Dorian.

  Kirsten shook her head as she let off a weak chuckle. “He told me he came here intending on squeezing the air out of you while you slept, but he couldn’t do it.” An idea hit her. “He knows you tried to kill yourself. Considering he died to keep you alive, he’s going to be angry if you do it. Suicide ghosts tend to linger for decades, and he’d be hounding you the whole time. Do you really want to deal with that?”

  “Really?” Seraphina looked up, horrified. “That’s not true is it? You’re just trying to scare me.”

  Dorian manifested amid a haze of whitish energy. “It’s true. Suicides linger.” He maintained visibility for a few more seconds before fading.

  Theresa backed up. Marguerite twitched twice, blinking

  Kirsten smiled at the trend in Seraphina’s surface thoughts. “I think she’s having second thoughts about rushing into the grave.”

  “Please let me out.” Seraphina whined.

  “Your father is sending a psychiatrist. Not until the doctor says it’s okay.” Theresa looked down.

  Kirsten sighed. “I’m sorry. I can’t do anything except send in yet another psych doctor. You’re not a minor, you’re not psionic, you have shown suicidal ideations, and your father is a senator.” Even if he is a murderer. “Think about what I said. Killing yourself isn’t an escape from depression. It just makes it last forever. It doesn’t stop on the other side… and you get to have an angry ghost hounding you.”

  Seraphina squirmed more out of protest than any genuine attempt to escape.

  Kirsten turned to leave.

  “Hey,” said Seraphina. Kirsten glanced back. “Tell that guy I’m sorry he died.”

  “I will.” Kirsten bottled up rage and frustration, showing only a sad smile to the world. “I’m doing everything I can.”

  She plodded down the stairs and let herself out, finding it strange Marguerite didn’t follow. “Great. The senator’s probably watching a video of everything I said in there. He knows I’m on to him.”

  Dorian nodded. “Probably. Though I doubt he would do anything to you at this stage. He knows you’ve got no proof… but I’d expect some saber rattling.”

  irsten looked down at breasts smaller than she’d grown used to, almost nonexistent. The virtual elf body made her feel thirteen years old again. Her airy white crisscross top connected to a sigil-inlaid leather skirt she felt certain would show the world everything if she leaned even an inch forward or back. Laced leather boots came up to her knees, lined with fringe, and mystic sigils carved into the side of a wooden longbow in her hand glowed bright green.

  “Are thee ready?” asked Evan.

  She looked to her left at an indigo-robe wearing Monwyn. Longish black hair framed a chiseled face, surrounded by a thick black beard along the jawline. His intense blue eyes stirred a range of emotions from wow he’s gorgeous to danger: get away from him. Hearing a nine-year-old boy’s voice come out of the ruggedly handsome man in his thirties caused her brain to skip.

  “Shani picked Asara the Huntress too. Most of the other girl characters are evil, ‘cept for the elementalist and the healer.”

  “Like Xiana?” Kirsten got a twinge of a headache at the thought.

  “Yeah. She’s sorta both. She starts off as a bad guy, but winds up helping Monwyn by the third movie. You’d hate her armor; she’s always got high heels.”

  Kirsten laughed. After a few steps to get used to ‘bouncing’ more than walking―the game translated elven speed and agility in disorienting ways―she rolled her head around, feeling almost drunk at the way the heavy Senshelmet pulled at her neck. “This helmet feels strange.”

  “You get used to it. Okay, Mom… Uhh, I mean Asara! We’ve gotta go to the Cave of the Ancients and find the Ancestor Sword.”

  Is that the best storyline they can come up with? Go find a sword? Who leaves a priceless magic weapon just sitting around in a tomb? Why don’t the monsters guarding it take the sword, sell it, and retire somewhere?

  “Okay. How does this work?”

  “We’ve only got a Yume, so we can’t bypass the levels by knowing the words to the spells. You’ve got nature magic, but you’re not high enough level to use it yet so you gotta use the bow.” Evan’s attempt to flash a sheepish grin came out as Monwyn’s ‘let’s go to the bedroom’ smile. “I didn’t mean the Yume you got us sucks… it’s awesome! I mean this isn’t like the Monwyn sim at the Funzone.”

  She raised her arm. “How am I supposed to hurt any of the creatures with a stick with a string on it? It’s too light to hit anyone with.”

  Monwyn gawked at her, somehow inheriting Evan’s expression. She laughed.

  “Seriously, Mom? You don’t know what a longbow is? We’ve watched like all the movies.”

  Kirsten studied the weapon. “It so big… I thought it was a weak staff.”

  “You’ve got the level one weapon. Not Greenbriar. The real Asara’s bow is smaller but super powerful.”

  She mimicked the gesture of drawing an arrow and one appeared. A few random shots at trees later, she more or less got the hang of aiming it. “Easy enough.”

  They trekked down the road, and soon found themselves attacked by ho
bgoblins―manlike creatures with green skin and intelligence about halfway between peasant and smart dog. She adjusted to the elf’s technique of running and shooting, and it didn’t take them long to fight their way past what felt like an endless amount of random creatures to a flat stone panel on the side of a moss-covered hill.

  “Hmm. A rune of warding. It’s a puzzle.” Evan/Monwyn cracked his knuckles.

  Kirsten stood behind him, though in the real world, he sat in front of her in their living room. She wrapped her arms around him and clung while he busied himself dragging glowing blue runes around a series of tiles. Frustration at a daydreamed Senator Winchester laughing at her, teasing her that he’d killed a man and she couldn’t do anything about it got her growling. Can I blame him? What would I do to protect Evan? She debated if she could kill someone to protect him. If they’re threatening him, I wouldn’t hesitate. Could she do what the senator did and murder an innocent stranger to save her boy’s life? She couldn’t wrap her brain around the idea in theoretical terms. Murdering someone in cold blood went against everything she was. Thinking about it as an exercise sent her brain careening down a spiral of anguish. She imagined some corporation abducting Evan and forcing her to murder or they’d kill him, and kept trying to come up with ways to find a side door rather than dealing with the question.

  Evan grunted. “Mom? What’s wrong? You got squeezy again.”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” She cuddled him. “I’m thinking about how much I’d do to keep you safe.”

  He stopped moving. “Is something coming after me?”

  “I don’t know… I found the spirit, Charles… no. He’s not after you.” She clung a little tighter. “Your blockade worked?”

  “Yeah.” He got back to moving runes around. “I didn’t have a bad dream. Maybe it is a stupid ghost.”

  She held him in silence for a few minutes while he attacked the puzzle. He made up Monwyn-sounding curses along the lines of “by a shade-goblins balls” and “whoever designed this puzzle is dumber than an orc.” Eventually, he figured it out and the individual blocks glided apart to reveal a passageway.