by TylerRose.
“Does she have Sistarian DNA?”
“I think so, but I don’t know how much. We’re a Gypsy family. Gramma is the strongest seer other than myself. She reads cards very accurately. Sometimes she knows things.”
“The earthquake you experienced last night was in Japan,” he informed her. “What other natural phenomenon do you experience?”
“Tornadoes mostly; but those dreams are predictive. The actual tornado usually happens the next day. I see an occasional fire, usually through someone’s eyes. Most of the time I experience something, it is because someone is there and I am picking up their distress.”
“Can you control it? Any of it?”
“I do not attempt to control the dead. It is not for me to deny them access to their portal. These things happen most often when I am asleep because that is when I am most receptive to the energies. During the day there are distractions and they can’t get to me as readily. Sometimes I’ll feel the ground tremble during the day. Sometimes I’ll see a fire or a person in danger; but I cannot always pinpoint where they are. I can sometimes convey where they are in relation to another person who can help. The firefighter is strangely drawn to the place where the trapped person is. I was never taught the control necessary to block such distress calls and I don’t know that I would want to block them. People are reaching out in moments of terror or desperation. If they make a connection with me, they know they are not entirely alone. And I’m okay with that.”
“Would not some people think that their god is with them?” Landra Ahr asked.
“I cannot help how people perceive my presence during their moments of mortal jeopardy. How they perceive is based upon what they have been taught and what else they have experienced during their lives. I do not pose as a god. Whatever I may be in the future, I do not pass myself off as a god now. I know better.”
She left the blanket in the window and fixed another cup of coffee. “Thank you for turning this on. It was kind of you.”
“You are welcome,” he replied, watching exactly how much sugar and powdered creamer she put in before pouring the coffee.
The first cup had been waiting the previous night, prepared before she went to bed. Thus he could not easily measure each substance without disturbing her preparation. Three cubes of sugar and two heaping teaspoons of powdered creamer. Light and sweet, but not overly sweet. The mug was larger than anyone else in the house used, holding sixteen ounces instead of eight or ten, with raised butterflies around the surface.
Coffee poured and stirred, she let the cup sit while she pulled articles of clothing out of her dresser. She had showered the previous night. In the days she had been in the warehouse, he had not known her to shower in the morning. Always in the evening before bed or late afternoon before dinner.
“Because water on my skin too early in the day is like running a cheese grater over me,” she said when he made the observation aloud.
An interesting description.
She pulled on underpants, not caring that he was there, then jeans and a two-tone layered tank top. Over that, a large man’s shirt in white. Leaving the buttons undone, it hung open and down to mid-thigh. She rolled the sleeves to her elbows in fast, sure flips.
“Have you accepted what I said about eventually becoming the Sentinel?” she asked.
“I have. I know that there are things in the Universe that are not readily apparent. Things happen in their own time, when they should and as they should. I will take you at your word until you prove to me that I should not. I have decided that I should begin to act as the Sentinel now, as I already do for L’Roc-ai. There is no reason not to at this point. A service performed for two in the same house does not conflict. I perform the function for the entire warehouse as it is.”
“True enough,” she said, bending over to finger comb her hair upside down and get out the snags of the back.
“You are going out?”
“Pile Driver has a gig tonight. I’m performing, thus I need to be at rehearsal.”
“Where are you performing?”
“A party that starts around six. It’s the first time I will have gotten on stage since I came back. I’m ready.”
She stood straight, flipping her thick mane of hair back with her arm and picking up a spray bottle of water. Spritzed thoroughly, she picked up a smaller bottle of spray gel and performed the routine a second time. A small hand towel scrunched onto the ends absorbed liquid about to drip onto the floor. To the wall mirror and she raked the top and sides rapidly with her fingers to shape the spiral curls already forming under the force of water and gel. She did not use curling tool such as rollers or irons.
Satisfied with the result, she picked up a black lining crayon and carefully drew along the edge of her lower lids and then the upper. A light colored eye shadow powdered her lids and then she pulled a few shorter curls from the front to make bangs.
The women of Taverages did not apply makeup to their faces or prepare their hair in so careful a manner. Landra Ahr found her routine interestingly minimal and a striking enhancement of her natural features. She was a phenomenal beauty, more so than when she had been the blonde.
Next she packed a small take-along bag with another tank top and man’s shirt and a fresh pair of socks. Then a pair of black leather boots with fringe and silver toes. The makeup went into a zip pouch and then into the bag. She sat to put on other socks and high top tennis shoes, then went to her night stand to take out her little glass jar of marijuana. Landra Ahr had recognized the fresh scent particles in the air almost every time he’d been in her room but this was the first time he’d seen the source.
Holding out her left hand, a copy of the jar appeared in her right. The first put away, the copy went into the travel bag along with a quickly copied lighter and her pipe – not copied.
“You used to smoke cigarettes,” he remarked, realizing he’d not seen her light a single one since she’d been living in the warehouse.
“I don’t do that this time.”
“Good for you. But you still smoke the pipe,” he observed.
“Yep and I won’t be stopping that.”
“May I ask why?”
“One: I like the buzz. Two: It quiets my mind. Three: As well as you enjoyed my performance with the stereo, I’m even better with the buzz happening. More relaxed and able to feel and convey emotional content of the songs. Four: I like the buzz.”
“I see.”
“One thing. No one but you knows I sing. No one but you knows I sing in a band. No one but you knows I perform on stage. We will keep it that way.”
“As you choose. Will you be back this evening?” he asked.
“Don’t know. Depends on how late the gig runs.” She opened her small desktop safe and took out several bills. Copied, originals put back while the reproduced bills went into her pocket. “I’m gone. See you later.”
Travel bag snatched up, she vanished, leaving him alone in her room. When he was ready to leave, he turned off the coffee maker and returned to the Command Center. Jerome came in a moment later.
“Tyler going to come down today?”
“She has left the warehouse,” Landra Ahr replied.
“What? She didn’t come by us.”
“She teleported from her room and will likely not return until tomorrow.”
“She tell you where she was going?”
“Tyler is an adult, Jerome, and need not tell anyone where she is going or why.”
“Wait. She’s under your command as much as we are, ain’t she?” Jerome asked, to see what the mechanoid would say.
“I have no authority over her. She knows her enemies and ours very well. Better than I do. She should be in command of this group. There is nothing I can teach her about the battles in which she is engaged. In fact, she has taught me many things over the past few days.”
“Like what?”
“She has told you she spent eons studying hundreds of timelines, has she not?” Landra Ahr asked ba
ck.
“Yeah, so?”
“What do you think someone of her intelligence and memory retention would gain from such an experience? How many times did she view the battle we have yet to fight once? Thousands. How many times have you seen that battle? Never.”
Jerome clamped his mouth shut, the truth hard to swallow.
Landra Ahr continued, tone sharp and impatient. “You look at her and you see a runaway girl you could not stop from going on her Life’s Journey. A journey that has brought her full circle back to you with a wealth of information for the asking and you ignore it,” he jabbed a finger into the air. “You all but ignore her.”
He flipped on a monitor. “I recognize a fascinating woman, wise beyond any physical appearance, experienced in things which you have no comprehension and containing the knowledge of the Universe. She is our single greatest resource and, without her information, our situation is unwinnable. And you ignore it. Open your one good eye and that thick mind of yours, Jerome, and see her for who and what she is. You protect a goddess in the making, if she’s not one already.”
“I do know that part.”
Landra plugged himself into the computer. “Do you? And what have you done with that? Nothing except bicker over plates until she almost left. You will not be a leader until you can recognize and utilize what each soldier brings to your team. You must take the time to learn all there is to know about each person, to discover how they best function within the team or if they function at all in a group.”
Screen filled with data, his fingers raced over the keys.
“She does not know how to function in a group. If you are waiting for her to reach out and make the effort, you’re going to be waiting a long fucking time. It is not going to happen. You have to do the reaching out, as you did the night she ran away. Just once is not going to get the job done. You have to teach her how to function in a group dynamic. You have to teach her how to trust again. I give you one last thing on which to think: If you want her to stay after the battle is done, you had better get to work on giving her a reason to want to remain on Earth.”
He paused.
“You are dismissed.”
He turned away from Jerome to begin analyzing more of his conversations with Tyler and the psionic events of the previous night.
Jerome almost expected to feel a slap to his face as if he’d learned this lesson from Chen. Blinking slowly, not at all liking the way things had been going between himself and Landra Ahr—who had never used the word fuck before—since Tyler had moved in.
Something about being upbraided in his own home rubbed him the wrong way. He could not, however, deny that Landra Ahr was partially right. He had been seeing Tyler as the seventeen year old girl on the run. He hadn’t made much of an effort to include her after the incident over the dishes. He’d been giving her space as she had requested, the space he’d advised himself to give her. Landra Ahr perceived it as ignoring her because he didn’t know about the private agreement or the book.
Jerome stalked out and took the Torino for a long drive. He ended up at Chen’s place and they engaged in a sparring match. After ten minutes of throwing Jerome around and generally beating up on him, Chen disengaged. Jerome lay on the floor a moment heaving for breath.
“You are not focused. What’s the matter?”
“I’m fine,” Jerome replied, hopping to his feet for the next round.
“You are not. If your mind is elsewhere then none of you is here. What’s going on?”
Jerome dropped his hands in a sigh of defeat. “Landra Ahr gave me a dressing down about not seeing Tyler for who she is and not trying to include her.”
“Is he right?”
“Sorta,” Jerome sighed, more irritated with himself. “She told me to keep my distance for now. My Staff Power hurts her and she can’t deal with a relationship right now. But she wants to. I thought she would come to me when she was ready to be part of the group. That she’d talk when she was ready to tell. She hasn’t come to me about anything. We all have dinner together and she goes right back to her room. She asked me not to push so I’m not. I don’t want her to run again. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I didn’t get the chance to talk to her today because she didn’t come out of her room to leave the warehouse. She doesn’t bother to go down the stairs or elevator.”
“Why should she employ such pretension?” Chen asked.
“She shouldn’t. It’s not that she ported out from her room. It’s that she—“ He cut himself off, not sure what he was going to say and if it was going to make him sound like a bigger ass.
“She didn’t tell anyone other than Landra Ahr she was leaving and where she was going,” Chen finished for him.
Jerome only fumed.
“Why should she?” Chen asked. “Landra Ahr is the commander of your covert unit. She told the commander and need not tell anyone else. You are used to being the one everyone comes to for advice and to give whereabouts. You are used to being the leader of your group. She is a very powerful woman. More than you know. Why should she allow anyone to have supremacy over her?”
“Has she been here to talk with you too?”
“I raised her, Jerome. From a baby. We talk on those things she is able to talk about.”
Jerome rolled his eyes. “Not you too.”
Chen smiled to himself. “I am guessing that was the gist of Landra Ahr’s dressing down? The value of her as a resource and person in her own right?”
“I’m getting sick of hearing it.”
“Then do something about it and quit bellyaching about not being the boss of everyone. She will give you everything she is capable of giving.”
The slap was harder than most, to enforce the distaste of so important a lesson. The matter set aside, they resumed sparring. When Jerome returned home, he read the journal again with fresh eyes. Having memorized the thing didn’t mean he’d learned it. Now he was going to learn to apply what he was reading.
Landra Ahr’s sensors detected her sudden appearance in the kitchen at one in the morning. He determined to leave her be this night. They could talk in the morning. Her physical readings showed she was very tired, almost exhausted, muscles fatigued. He heard Jerome’s door open and tuned into the kitchen’s sensors to monitor the interaction.
“You’re home,” Jerome said as if he’d not heard her in the kitchen.
The sink ran and a glass filled. Swallowing noises. No reply to the question.
“Where did you go?”
The glass filled again.
“That is none of your business,” she said, voice strained and thick.
“You okay? Your voice is hoarse.”
“I’m fine.” She was walking toward the hallway.
Jerome stepped in front of her in the doorway, blocking it. She glared up at him.
“I’m trying to reach out here. I’ve kept my distance like you wanted; but I’ve not been as congenial as I could be. I’m trying to correct it, okay?”
“If you want to reach out to me, see me tomorrow at noon and bring a joint. I’m going to bed.”
She teleported, reappearing in the hallway at the foot of the stairs to walk up. Jerome turned around in the doorway, arms up high against the inside of the frame, and watched her go up. Well, it was progress. She coulda ported directly up to the room.
Landra Ahr stopped monitoring Jerome when he returned to his bedroom. He continued to monitor Tyler, however. When she at last went to bed, he tuned tightly into her room. Through the night she slept soundly with normal dream cycles. No portals, no earthquakes. He suspected that her efforts onstage, which were considerable when he compared readings, had a great deal to do with the peace of her night.
Having heard her instruction to Jerome to come to her at noon, Landra Ahr decided to speak with her before Jerome arrived. He needed to speak to L’Roc-ai first.
8:30am, he went to Roc’s room. She bade him enter and he was not at all surprised to find her up and dressed for the d
ay. She had always been an early riser.
“We must talk a moment,” he said in Taveragian.
“About?”
“Tyler.”
“She has been the topic of much speculation these days. You and she have had several conversations in secrecy.”
“Privacy is not secrecy. I have no doubt that she would have such conversations with you if you were to knock on her door. You and she have the potential to become very close friends. You have much in common.”
“Such as?”
“That you will have to discover for yourself. In what manner do you perceive her telepathic speech?” he asked, getting to his purpose.
“What do you mean?”
“Is it loud? Strong, quiet, weak?” he clarified.
“It is clear but very soft. Sometimes I barely hear her. Why do you ask?”
“Bear with me a moment. Do you think it is soft because her telepathic ability is weak or because she is exerting a great deal of control and overcompensating?”
“I have guessed because she is weak. We have seen almost no example of her abilities,” she said, not mentioning that first night Tyler had held her mother’s ring.
“You should rethink your guess. You will no longer try to probe her mind. She is aware of your attempts and has not retaliated. She does not appreciate the invasion. Had I known you were doing it, I would have told you not to in the first place.”
“Why does she not tell me herself?” L’Roc-ai asked.
“Because there is a chain of command and she is respecting it even though she is not a part of it.”
“Not part of it? I thought in coming to live here she had agreed to be under your command as the others are.”
“She is no more under my command than the moon is. She knows more about the battle and Adamantine himself than all of us combined.”
“She knows more about him than his own daughter does?” she questioned with no small skepticism.
“She and Jerome are going to talk this morning. I suggest you make an effort this evening. I also suggest that you tune yourself in to the energies surrounding her when she sleeps. You are closest if she should need assistance.”
