The Forgotten

by Bishop O'Connell

  Dante smiled. “Thank you, Magister.”

  “We can be there in a few hours.”

  Dante glanced at his watch. “That’ll have to do.”

  “Where do you want to meet us?”

  Dante gave Faolan the address of the club and ended the call. As he tucked his phone away, he turned to Siobhan. She’d stowed her shotgun and helped herself to a beer from the bar.

  “Well, it is your place now, yeah?” she said. “I didn’t figure you’d mind.”

  At that moment, Dante missed Brendan more than he had in quite some time, but he smiled at Siobhan. “I need your help. We have a hell of a task ahead of us, and not much time.”

  “As I said, I’m with you,” Siobhan said.

  When his phone rang, Dante answered it without looking at it. “Something wrong, Faolan?”

  “Well, you’re half right,” Elaine said. “And as a hint, I’m not Faolan.”

  Dante closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “Can you get to me or do I need to come pick you up?”

  “I managed just fine before you showed up,” Elaine said. “Give me the address.”

  Dante narrowed his eyes at the sound of an engine starting, and his mouth turned up at the corners. “Is that a Vanquish?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Wraith realized she was awake. The feel of cold wood against her back made her hesitant to open her eyes. A distant but powerful fear was coursing through her. Even if she couldn’t name that fear, she knew it, and knew it was hard earned.

  “What do we do if she doesn’t wake up?” Geek asked.

  “She will,” Sprout said.

  “Weren’t you the one who was convinced she were dead?” Con asked.

  “I still think she is, but that doesn’t she mean she won’t wake up.”

  There was a long pause.

  Wraith opened her eyes and saw the boys exchanging glances.

  “Um,” Con began. “Actually, yeah, it kind of—­”

  “You’re awake!” Ovation said and was immediately on his knees at her side.

  “I told you so,” Sprout said.

  “Are you okay?” Ovation asked. “We were getting worried.”

  Wraith nodded. “I think so, where are we?”

  “No idea,” Geek said. “We assumed you could tell us.”

  “Seeing as you were driving, as it were,” Con said.

  Wraith started to get to her feet, and Ovation took her hand and helped her up slowly. His arm slid around her waist and she was keenly aware of how warm his hands where, how soft his touch.

  “Easy does it,” he said when she was on her feet.

  “Thank you,” Wraith said. She made to tuck her hair behind her ear, but felt incredibly stupid when she realized there wasn’t enough to do that.

  The smell hit Wraith first. It was familiar, and a flood of emotions washed over her, but she had no memories to give them context. She looked around the small room and felt that familiar pain of not recognizing a place, but knowing she should. It was thirty feet by twenty, the walls were brick, the floor was old planks, and the ceiling was crossed with exposed wooden beams. The only door was old and warped wood, and the spot where windows might have been once were now bricked over. Despite that, the room was well lit by some secret source.

  Against one wall was an old sofa, much too large to have come through the door. A tattered loveseat was opposite the sofa with a battered coffee table between them. The furniture wasn’t familiar, but when she touched the pieces, she remembered pushing them around the room, arranging them in the current pattern. Her fingers came away covered in thick dust. She absently wiped it on her worn, ill-­fitting jeans and looked around the rest of the room. There were three bare mattresses on the floor. Next to each was a small cardboard box that seemed to serve as a nightstand. A fourth bed sat apart and perpendicular to the others, closest to the door. It didn’t have a box. In far corner was what appeared to be a workbench.

  “You know this place?” Ovation asked, but it wasn’t really a question.

  “I do, but I don’t remember it,” Wraith said, eyeing the bed that sat away from the others.

  “From the looks of it,” Con said, “no one’s been here in ages. Dust is inches thick.”

  “And no foot prints but ours,” Geek said.

  Wraith felt a rush of panic and looked around for Toto. She spotted him lying on a huge doggie pillow on the far side of the couch, allowing an unobstructed view of the lonely bed and doorway. Toto watched her intently, but was somehow sad. Something in his eyes told her there was more behind his look than just a desire for treats or scratches behind the ear. Without thinking, Wraith walked to the workbench. No one said anything as she stepped past and around them.

  The wooden surface was covered with tool marks and burns. An old soldering gun sat next to a spool of solder, still shining despite the coating of dust. Rolls of copper wire sat in organized rows, and mechanical hodgepodge sat in little trays: gears, magnets, springs, pieces of leather, and various metals, each in its place. Wraith ran her hand over the wood, then the workings. Her feet kicked a small wooden box.

  “Fritz,” she said in a whisper when she saw the box.

  “What?” the boys asked in unison.

  “This was Fritz’s workbench,” Wraith said.

  “Looks steampunk,” Geek said.

  Wraith didn’t answer. She reached under the table and found the hidden release without consciously knowing it was there. A large section of the work surface popped up half an inch.

  “A hidden compartment?” Geek asked. “Cool.”

  Wraith lifted the lid slowly, as if something might leap out and attack her. Inside was a single leather glove, more like a gauntlet; it would come nearly to her elbow. It was covered in armor-­like brass plates, each riveted onto thick leather. Copper tubing ran along the forearm from a large opening, where something was obviously missing, to a winding mechanism at the wrist. She ran her finger over the glove hesitantly, afraid to pick it up. Without knowing, she knew it would fit her like, well, a glove. Brief memories, too quick to make sense of, flashed through her brain—­though the impression she was left with, she understood. Her left hand traced over the tattoos on the back of her right hand. The glove was what had let her draw those supermassive, hyperaccelerated particles and shoot them. No. It was supposed to help her control it better, right? But it hadn’t worked? Was that why she’d gotten tattooed? Or was the glove to increase the power?

  “What’s that?” Ovation asked from over her shoulder.

  “Not sure,” Wraith answered.

  “Definitely steampunk,” Geek said from her other shoulder. “And completely awesome!”

  Wraith felt the others crowd around to look, but she ignored them. Something was on the edge of her brain; she could just touch it with her fingertips—­but it was maddening that she couldn’t grab a hold of it.

  “What do you suppose these are for?” Con said, reaching out to pick up a ­couple of lenses that had camera-­like apertures inside them, and several small jeweler’s magnifying lenses attached.

  Something inside Wraith surged to the surface. She smacked Ovation’s hand and turned on him. “Nein! Nicht berühren!” she shouted, glaring at him.

  Then it all made sense, and was so obvious she couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it before. She set the lenses and glove on the surface of the bench after closing the hidden compartment. As she examined the lenses, she reached and picked up a small screwdriver. A few small adjustments and the collection of jeweler’s lenses came off.

  “Ich bin so ein dummkopf,” she muttered, then grabbed a tray and retrieved similar lenses from inside it, but these were colored. Over one lens she attached a blue, then a red, and finally a purple jeweler’s glass. Over the other, she put a dark-­gray tinted glass, a yellow, and lastly an orange. When
the work was done, she pulled the goggles from her bag. She screwed the new lenses into place. When it was done, she nodded.

  She looked over the goggles and shook her head. “I can’t believe I was so stupid before.”

  “So,” Con said. “Spreken ze English again?”

  “What?” Wraith asked absently as she looked over the glove. Something was still missing.

  She spotted another tray and grabbed it. It was filled with pieces of polished glass. She selected a pale blue one, then she grabbed the soldering iron and a roll of copper wire.

  “What the hell is happening, mate?” Con whispered to Ovation.

  “I haven’t the foggiest,” Ovation said.

  “Should we be worried?” Geek asked.

  “I wish I knew,” Ovation whispered.

  Wraith heard but ignored them; she was focused on the task at hand. An equation formed in the air around her, then settled on the soldering iron and brought it to life. She attached the thin wires across the back of the piece of glass. As she worked, symbols and numbers settled into the glass itself, forming a winding and almost organic formulation that shifted, but always reached a zero sum. When the last solder was complete, she cleaned the iron and critiqued her work: an intricate weave of overlapping wires along the back of the glass, guiding and directing the formulation inside as well as keeping it stable. Wraith inserted the glass into the opening on the glove. It was loose, but she took a screwdriver and tightened the ­fittings until the glass was held firm, and it filled with a faint light.

  “I thought you didn’t know what it did,” Ovation asked.

  “Es verfeinert die Manipulation von Quanten uber-­exotische Teilchen,” Wraith said.

  “What?” everyone said together.

  Wraith let out an exasperated sigh. For the briefest moment, she felt dizzy, like the room had abruptly stopped spinning. But she recovered quickly. “I said . . .” Her words died as the understanding slipped away. She looked from one face to another. Everyone looked at her expectantly, except Sprout. The little girl just smiled and took Wraith’s hand, squeezing.

  “It’s okay,” she said.

  Wraith dropped the gauntlet onto the bench. “No, it’s not. At all.”

  “Just sit down for a bit,” Sprout said and led her to the loveseat.

  Wraith fell into it. Toto came over and placed his head in her lap.

  Ovation and Geek sat on the couch, Con paced the room, looking it over.

  “Okay,” Ovation said. “You said Fritz was German, right?”

  Wraith nodded.

  “You probably just learned it from her,” Geek said, “and how to work on that stuff.”

  Wraith glanced at him. No, he didn’t believe that either.

  “Oi, I think something’s missing over here,” Con said. He was staring down at the floor next to the bed that was off on its own.

  “What?” Ovation asked.

  “No idea, mate,” Con answered. “Four somethings actually, small and round.”

  When Wraith approached, Con stepped to one side, not saying anything, just gesturing to the floor.

  Wraith knelt down and looked. Sure enough, amid the dust that coverd the old planks were four voids, all circles of different sizes.

  Con chuckled. “Almost looks like someone’s spare change might’ve—­”

  Wraith looked at him, and she felt herself smile. Con’s words died, and her hands went to her pockets, searching fantically. She froze when her fingers touched the edge of the quarter. She took it out and set it slowly, almost reverently, down on the floor. It fit perfectly in the largest void.

  “What’s it mean?” Ovation asked.

  Wraith smiled at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. “It means I can find her!”

  “How’s that, then?” Con asked.

  Wraith held the quarter in her palm, headside up, and concentrated. Numbers and symbols drifted down, circling the coin and forming the calculation. “It’s entangled, on a quantum level, to another coin Shadow keeps with her,” Wraith said.

  “Magical science?” Con asked.

  “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,” Geek said and smiled. “Arthur C. Clarke’s third law.”

  “No idea what you’re talking about, mate,” Con said.

  Nothing was happening. Wraith focused harder, reaching out to find the bound coin.

  “Quiet,” Ovation said. “Can’t you see she’s—­”

  Then Wraith felt it take hold and she spun to stare at a bed across the room, the one furthest from her. She rushed to it, feeling the pull from the quarter in her hand. Falling to her knees, she moved the box, then pulled it open, but it was empty. She focused again, then realized it was the bed. Hesitantly, she tried to lift the mattress.

  The coin fell from Wraith’s hand and bounced on the floor as the entire world seemed to collapse around her.

  “Let me help,” Geek said. He easily lifted the mattress, setting it on its side and leaning it against the wall.

  The uncovered spot almost gleamed from the lack of dust. Alone in that sea of polished hardwood sat a single penny.

  “What the hell?” Con asked and knelt down.

  Wraith closed her eyes. “No, this isn’t right,” she whispered.

  Con and Ovation went to the other beds and lifted them, but Wraith knew what they’d find before they even looked.

  “A dime,” Ovation said.

  “I got a nickel, mate,” Con said.

  Each boy carefully returned the beds to their original spots, then gathered around Wraith, each setting a coin down next to the quarter and penny.

  After a long moment of silence, Geek looked from one person to another. “What’s it mean?”

  “It means I don’t know what’s real anymore,” Wraith said through the sound of her reality shattering on the floor.

  Chapter Sixteen

  In her head, Wraith went over every detail of every memory she could find as she paced the room. She was more focused than she could ever remember being. No one said anything, but even if they had, she wouldn’t have heard them.

  Like a vision, her friends stood before her. Fritz—­her small, agile form leaning against SK—­him tall and lanky, their arms entangled. Her eyes a mossy green, his light brown. She could see the freckles on his cheeks and the sad look Fritz always wore. She focused on Shadow, on her face: oval in shape, strong cheekbones, piercing dark eyes, long and straight dark hair. Wraith could hear her voice, soft and almost melodic. Stepping back in her mind, Wraith could see her friend more clearly, the casual smile belying the wisdom behind it.

  They were real! Weren’t they?

  They had to be. Didn’t they?

  No. Maybe she could’ve formed one from stereotypes she’d seen on TV or read about in books, but all three?

  “It’s a conundrum, to be sure,” Nightstick said from a corner, leaning against the wall casually and smoking. “Some questions are better left unanswered.” He turned and she felt him staring at her. “Or dug too deep into, lest you learn something you really didn’t want to know.”

  Wraith ignored him.

  Fritz’s workbench, that was real. But Wraith had completed her work so effortlessly. Apparently, she’d even spoken German. Did she have split personalities? Was that it?

  She began searching around the room, frantic to find something, anything, that would prove her sanity. No, it was more than that. She didn’t care if she was crazy, but she did care that the ­people she knew and loved were real.

  Wraith flipped mattresses, turned over boxes, rooted through drawers of the workbench. It wasn’t until she shoved the couch to look under it that anyone said anything.

  “Bloody hell, you could’ve just asked us to move!” Con shouted.

  “Here, let me help,” Geek said.

&n
bsp; The others stood off to one side and Geek lifted the couch with one hand.

  Nothing.

  He set it down and lifted the loveseat. Wraith fell to her knees and ran her fingers through the dust, ignoring the teardrops that fell.

  “There has to be something,” she said through clenched teeth. “I know they’re real!”

  A gentle hand rested on her shoulder. She didn’t pull away.

  “We’ll help,” Ovation said, his voice soft.

  “Mate, there’s nothing—­”

  “We’ll help,” Ovation said again, though not to her, his voice stern.

  “Right, then,” Con said. “Come on, there’s a wild goose waiting.”

  Wraith just sat there on her knees, head bowed, as the others began searching the room. Sprout turned over the cushions and Geek knocked on the wall, presumably listening for a hollow spot. Ovation stepped onto the couch and pulled himself up to look at the tops of the beams.

  “Oi, hello there,” Con said.

  Everyone stopped and turned, including Wraith.

  Her tears evaporated and hope swelled in her heart when she saw him over a spot on the floor away from everything. He was dragging his fingertips around a floorboard.

  “What is it?” Ovation asked, leaping down from the beam and stepping to Con.

  “This board is loose, I think,” Con said.

  Wraith was on her feet and across the room before she was even aware of what she was doing. Con moved aside for her as she knelt down and examined the board.

  “I can’t get it to budge,” Con said. “But it’s definitely not like the others around it. You got anything to pry it up with?”

  Wraith saw the faint traces of an equation drifting around the edges of the board, binding it to those around it. It wouldn’t come up without the others. Not until it let go.

  Floorboards creaked behind Wraith and she heard Nightstick sigh. “Careful, kid,” he said. “Better make sure you really want to know.”

  Wraith carefully unraveled the binding. The last number drifted away and the board shifted. With a shaking hand, she pressed on one end, raising the opposite end so she could lift it. In the space beneath was a gray metal strong box with a hinged handle on top and a simple combination lock on the face. Wraith drew it out and, at first touch, she knew this was what she was looking for.