Of Delicate Pieces

by A. Lynden Rolland

  Jonas couldn’t share who sent him, but when it came to Alex, he could go on for days.

  “My friend, we grew up together. She’s gotten loads of attention since she died because she looks like someone named Sephi Anovark.”

  Ms. Portiere pressed her hands together like a prayer. “It’s true, then? The resemblance is strong? I wish I could travel to see it for myself.”

  “You know who Sephi is?”

  “You’re asking that of one of the gifted? She is our greatest treasure.”

  He tried to shake his head, but the suction from the floor yanked him too hard. “I don’t know much about people like you.”

  “People like me,” she repeated. “They pollute your mind early in death, don’t they?”

  He saw the opportunity, and he grabbed it with shaking hands, preparing his questions. He never liked jigsaw puzzles or word problems, and this task felt too much like both. The Havilahs were hunters. If Astor was gifted, of course he’d need to run away. End of story. What’s the big mystery?

  “What’s the connection with Parrish? Why did the founder of this town leave when he could have inherited Parrish?”

  “Astor came to us for help. He was a Havilah and he hated it. That godforsaken family couldn’t see past their fears. Astor Havilah had no special talents, but his daughter did. She was taken from him, Havilah or not, because she showed early signs of being gifted. His family imprisoned his daughter, one of their own, with the intent to sell her into servitude. Astor and his wife left Parrish so when they had more children, they would be safe, and to bring some retribution to his family.”

  “Why are you willing to tell me all of this?”

  “Because your friend needs to know. Eidolon is probably trying to poison her mind against us.”

  Ms. Portiere stood and curled her finger, gesturing for Jonas to follow. He groaned with the effort it took to snake-crawl, dragging his knees and twisting his torso down a long passageway of dank smelling books labeled: Mystery A-F.

  “My family descends from a gifted builder who began his work by constructing catacombs. We fled here from New England when the Cinatri family paid us to build a world for the gifted, to live with Balin Cinatri underground. My ancestor never forgave himself for encouraging us to bury ourselves, for deciding to hide instead of fighting for our rights. He sentenced himself and all the Portiere family after him to be guardians over what he’d built. History isn’t something you can run away from. Astor Havilah didn’t understand that.”

  At the end of Mystery A-F, they entered an unmarked aisle, or Jonas couldn’t see the label from down on his belly. The deeper they traveled, the darker it became. These books were different. They snarled and snapped at him.

  He craned his head to peer at them. “What’s wrong with these books?”

  Ms. Portiere stroked the bindings with a wrinkled finger. “This is our history before the founding of Astor when we lived … ” She peered downward. “Astor knew where we were located long before 1839 because of his hunting ties. It was his idea to bring us out of the ground. A Havilah, of all people, brought the gifted into the light. To right the wrongs of his witch-hating family, he created something to protect them.”

  Ms. Portiere bent down to look at Jonas. “When you mentioned your friend who looks like Sephi Anovark, your mentality shifted. Did you realize? I did. I’ve always had a knack for reading between the lines, or between the waves.”

  “The waves?”

  “Some members of my family are blessed with the gift of seeing the mental state of others around us. Don’t look so surprised; there isn’t much to it. If you’ve ever seen an EEG machine, it’s very much the same. Our minds use electricity to communicate, and I see the signals producing that activity. That’s how I knew you weren’t here to harm anyone. You were here searching for knowledge. I saw the gamma waves.”

  “No offense, but that’s weird.”

  “In my family, it isn’t. Such a small thing classifies us as gifted. I have always seen the waves more vibrantly than anyone else,” she said, straightening up and puffing out her chest. “When you mentioned your friend, your waves decreased to alpha. Close your eyes.”

  He would do whatever she asked as long as she would turn off the vacuum hiding in her basement.

  “Like that. When people close their eyes, the waves change to alpha, and yours changed the same way when mentioning the girl. Because you genuinely care for her, I will escort you out of town unscathed. I consider anyone looking out for the Anovark girl to be on our side.”

  Jonas’s eyes snapped open. Alex wasn’t an Anovark. He didn’t dare share this with Ms. Portiere, not if it would threaten his safety. The pull from the ground eased, and Jonas could lift his head.

  Ms. Portiere came to a stop by a black door. Jonas took a crawl back, feeling paranoid. He worried she was about to shove him into whatever waited behind it and leave him there. The door had a nasty energy.

  Ms. Portiere stood over him and twisted the knob. Jonas felt his heart in his throat. She opened the door a crack, only enough for a sliver of light to seep through, and she waited, glaring at the space between Jonas and the doorframe. He slithered closer. The door swung open and the breath of the whispering books chilled the air so he stopped breathing to prevent inhaling it. It took concentration to resist something he was used to doing. He inched forward and peered into the opening, noticing a spiral of downward, twisting stairs.

  “This leads to your old town? The one from the 1600s?”

  “Now it’s a cemetery of sorts.”

  “I’m afraid to ask … ”

  “The dead reside there, but they are very much alive. Just detained.”

  Detained. A fancy word for imprisoned. He was about to end up in spirit jail for all eternity, he knew it. The worst part would be when his brothers found out. He pictured Kaleb’s smirk and Jonas’s fingers tightened their grip, clawing at the rotting wood of the doorway.

  “Astor founded the most foolproof underground prison for any of the spirited that came into our territories or broke our laws.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “Why? You don’t think spirits have their own prisons for us?”

  I never really sat around and thought about it, you crazy witch.

  “Now you know why I was shocked to look up and find you sitting twenty feet away from the doorway.”

  Jonas felt his mind shuffling through its contents, trying to remember the names of the underground cities his professors mentioned in Eidolon. He cursed himself for not paying more attention. Even with a brilliant mind, he couldn’t remember what he didn’t hear.

  “Down there is where you’ll find our former haven,” she said, curling her nose. “Down there is where you’ll find Paradise.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alex found it funny how her mind dictated her weather. The temperature in the redwoods didn’t shift much, but during the fall season she walked through the California trees and shivered with the chill from an east coast autumn because that’s what her mind remembered. In Maryland, autumn smelled like chimneys, apple spice, and cinnamon, and such scents flooded her senses as she hid among the crowd on Lazuli Street. She wondered what everyone else smelled.

  Alex’s friends were still working in Moribund, so there wasn’t anyone she wanted to see. Her desire to be inconspicuous caused her mind to dress her in a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses. She would fit right in at the floral shop that always projected sunlight.

  Last year she hadn’t seen the floral shop—she hadn’t seen a lot of things—but in the spring, she followed a mossy stairway off Lazuli Street labeled: Olfactory Pathway. It led to the small building with a wooden sign: Olfactory Cottage. It was like any ordinary flower store, but each time she visited, something new and spectacular added itself. She’d been there over two dozen times, and now the shop could only be described as magical. Massive waterfalls crashed down from the sky to land in ponds with
lily pads that hummed music. Mazes of rosebushes weaved through the yard with benches soft as pillows. Flowers sprang up in clusters varying in shapes, size, smell, movement, and emotion. The gardens stretched for miles. Balloons of rainclouds nourished the land, leaving trails of rainbows, except by the pine trees where snow clouds suspended overhead like white-gray umbrellas.

  Alex already finished her requirements for the day. Her activities at the health center left her exhausted before attending Paleo’s one-on-one session though Alex questioned why she needed extra lessons about the history of afterlife science labs. The day left her tired and cold, so a trip to the sunlight was exactly what she needed.

  It was a shame she couldn’t relax. Paranoia kept nudging her between the shoulder blades. Someone was watching her, but when she turned no one was there. The softness of the pressure made her wonder who would be looking at her in such a way while she journeyed through a field of pansies.

  “Nice hat,” a sardonic voice teased.

  She spun around, and Jonas leaped back to avoid the smack. She felt anger boiling in her stomach. “How dare you!”

  “What? You look like a beekeeper.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” she shrieked.

  He raised a finger to his lips. Quiet. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “Your brothers have been looking for you.” She didn’t care about her volume. If someone saw Jonas here, so what? That was his problem.

  Jonas’s mouth had a natural curl to the edges, and it bothered Alex more than ever.

  “Sweet Alex. We both know you’ll forgive me.”

  She tried to ignore the fact that he seemed so happy. Whatever he was up to, he was enjoying it. “Don’t bet on it.”

  “I’m not the betting kind. I prefer to make my own luck.”

  “And you don’t care who you step on to get there.”

  “Believe what you want, but I’m here to help you.” He grabbed her elbow and led her to a nearby bench bordered by white tulips.

  “Are you allowed to be here?”

  “It’s a city like any other.”

  She sat down on a bench, and for the first time it was uncomfortable. “You aren’t in trouble after last year?”

  He shook his head and the sunlight accentuated stubble along his jaw. She’d never once seen him with facial hair. “I’m a free spirit.”

  “You don’t miss it?”

  “Hours of workshops every day? Hell, no. I found something much better.”

  “I don’t want to ask.”

  “Good. Because I can’t tell you about it.”

  “Then why are you here?” When he reached for her arm, she snatched it away. “To visit your brothers, I hope. They’re in Moribund.”

  He crinkled his nose. “I know where they are. I tried to find you there first. I thought you might go to the butterfly tree.” He softened his tone. “And no, I didn’t go see them. They’d probably tie me up and force me to stay.”

  “They love you.”

  “No, they love the idea of having a punching bag. They want everything to stay the same because they were happy that way. I wasn’t.”

  “But you’re happy now? Why?”

  “I’m doing something real. And the last place I expected it to take me was right here, but Alex … ” He raked his fingers through his hair which was longer and lighter than usual. “You have no idea how much you’re tied into this world. Sit down. This is going to take a while.”

  ***

  Chase and Gabe sat on top of a maze of walls in the basement of the Mansion of Morgues. Dust, whispers, and screaming filled the death-black room, and even though Chase helped build the maze this year, it scared him. Duvall taught them about the chemicals used in the house, and his job was to perch over the guests who walked below in the maze and sprinkle chemicals down to amplify their fright. He knew his fears were a reaction to the fumes, but when he breathed them in, his hands shook, and his chest tightened. He didn’t like losing control of himself.

  “Gabe?” Chase whispered.

  “I’m here.”

  “Do you feel something funny?”

  “This whole place makes me feel things I’m not supposed to.”

  Chase waved his hand in front of his face. Despite his enhanced sight, he could barely see it. The only plus to this job was that it gave his mind a break from seeing so many colorful emotions. “That’s not what I mean. Like in your head.”

  “You mean, do I think Jonas is close?”

  Yes. That’s exactly what Chase meant. He didn’t experience such a pull with either of his remaining brothers. Gabe had a theory for this; Gabe had a theory for everything, which was annoying sometimes, but in this case Chase welcomed it. He thought they could feel a pull to Jonas because they were trying to find him—they weren’t trying to find each other. Chase knew where to find Gabe and Kaleb, and he didn’t worry about them much anyway because they could take care of themselves. He searched for Jonas, though, whether he wanted to or not, just to know if he was okay. Sometimes, Chase saw things he shouldn’t see. Trees. Faces. He thought it might be Alex’s mind until he began seeing the specks of green ambition and greed. And he knew he was in Jonas’s head. What a frightening place to be.

  Chase wished he could see Gabe more clearly. “Do you feel him, too?”

  “Yeah. He’s not far.”

  “You think he’s checking on us?” As angry as Chase felt, a part of him wanted to believe that Jonas cared about his brothers, that what he did last year was unintentional.

  The floors creaked above them. Even during the day, the Mansion of Morgues was open for guests. It was a new development this year because of the high demand. This place was still terrifying, even when the sun was out.

  “It doesn’t matter, Chase. You need to stop letting it in. When all this began, the seeing things that you think he’s seeing, I looked into it. It can happen with spirits who have similarly programmed minds, like siblings. There’s a reason it’s discouraged though.”

  The door opened and a new group of guests prepared to enter. Chase grasped his pouches of chemicals and prepared to release them, deciding this time to hold his breath since he didn’t need to breathe anyway.

  “Of all the different workshops and all the different theories, opinions, and teachings, one thing is always the same. Something as complex and personal as the mind isn’t meant to be shared.”

  Chase took one last gulp of air because it was habit. Good thing because he felt the urge to spill his secrets. If Gabe only knew how many people were inside of Chase’s mind.

  ***

  Alex tried to ignore the nosy tulips that leaned in closer and closer while Jonas told his story. “You’re telling me that my distant relative created a town aboveground for the gifted?”

  She latched onto the silver lining. She might be a Havilah, but the gifted didn’t need to hate her if she’d been a part of Astor.

  Jonas flicked a flower bud. “What better place to imprison spirits? Even if they somehow escaped, the town acts as a natural guard of gifted minds.”

  Alex’s mind flashed to Yazzie dressed as a constellation. “Yes, I heard this story during the festival. Broderick and Brigitta Cinatri wanted their sister to live there. What made the town come above ground?”

  Jonas slid a bit further down the bench so he could face her. “That’s really why I’m here. These spirits I’m working for—don’t give me that look—if you knew who it was, you wouldn’t question it.”

  “Then tell me who it is. I can keep a secret.”

  “That’s a load of crap.”

  Alex kicked a rock. “You can’t tell me. I’m truly shocked. They sent you into a gifted territory? That was really nice of them.” She snorted. “Sounds like they care about your wellbeing. How did you get out?”

  He scratched his head. “I didn’t know it was illegal. The only reason I’m not under the ground right now is because I said I�
��d relay a message to you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, there’s more to your story than you thought.”

  “I already know I’m a Havilah. I saw the family tree a few weeks ago.”

  Jonas raised his brows. “Oh yeah? They finally let you see that? Good.” He shook his head at Alex’s triumphant expression. “They still aren’t telling you everything.”

  His words injected her with indignation, and it spread throughout her being and filled her useless veins with something that made her itch. She ran her hand over the tattoo of blue veins on her chest. “What do you care?”

  “Honestly, Alex, I didn’t. Until I found out that this was my mission. They want me to do this, so I’m doing it. Shut up and let me talk.”

  God forbid he do something admirable, something noble. Jack wasn’t the only friend she’d misread last year. She might be the world’s worst judge of character.

  “The first thing I wondered is why these spirits sent me, but I was young enough that I didn’t realize the danger of waltzing into a gifted territory. They knew I’d recognize the town.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Stop asking.”

  “Why would you recognize some dumb town in Oregon?”

  “You’ll love this. It’s a duplicate of Parrish. Right down to the light posts in the town square. Astor, Oregon.”

  Astor. The familiarity of the word caused her mind to shuffle until she held the image of Maori’s shop of junk. The coral shield from the Witch Wars.

  “This Astor Havilah guy, his daughter was gifted. His family—your family—took her away, so he didn’t want to live in Parrish anymore. Can you blame him? According to Ms. Portiere, my new best friend, Astor wanted to make amends. He also didn’t want his family to be cursed anymore. And he needed a big town with money.”

  “Why?”

  “To buy back his daughter.”

  Alex took off her hat and fixed her hair that was suddenly very messy. She lived in Parrish her whole life believing the woods were forbidden because of the Jester, when really it was her own family she should have feared. The song about the Havilahs wriggled into her mind.