Of Delicate Pieces

by A. Lynden Rolland

  Thea’s arms blurred as she lifted them to fluff her white curls. “You need to spend more time away from here.”

  Alex couldn’t see Thea very well, but she sensed her loveliness. Thea had thrived growing up in an age where curves equaled beauty, and so she always flaunted her magnificently full figure in a way that Liv never had. Thea appeared photo-ready even though Alex knew she rarely left the house. She used to say that when you’re never alone, you never want to look like you think you are. In life, Alex hadn’t believed Thea’s profession as a medium, assuming it was a spinoff of the Parrish legends. She’d been as green as Thea’s wallpaper.

  Liv’s bleary silhouette fell back on the pillows of the window seat. “I used to have friends. Then they all had to go and die. Damn them.”

  Chase tightened his grip, and Alex saw the colors through him. The glow around Thea tinted indigo, but when she spoke her words escaped in a breath of silver-blue wisdom. All Alex could make out was “lonely.”

  “Wrong.” Liv threw her arm over her head. “I wish I was lonely. I wish I could find some … ” she raised her voice several octaves, “ … peace and quiet around here!”

  A giggle erupted from the far corner, and Alex saw a blurry person with flashes of yellow hair. She elbowed Chase to show him the jester’s hat in the boy’s lap.

  Liv sighed. “How do you put up with it, Grandma?”

  “I’ve heard them since I was old enough to babble.” Thea waved off the seriousness of the question, and the gold bracelets on her wrist clinked together.

  “I used to be good at blocking out the dead.”

  Although his features were vague, the Jester’s voice was clear, unlike the two living individuals in the room. “You aren’t very good at denying your vices.” He circled his hand in the air, framing her full figure. Then he mimicked shoving food in his mouth.

  Liv’s round form jumped from the window seat so quickly a blurred trail of color followed her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The Jester watched Liv approaching and clutched at the wall. “Earthquake!” He jolted his body back and forth. “Oh sorry, that was you walking.”

  The first part of Liv’s response was muffled. “ … hate you.”

  “Shouldn’t have let me into your head, then.”

  “It wasn’t you who opened that door. It was Chase.”

  “You let one in, you let them all in.”

  Alex felt Chase’s guilt as if it were her own.

  “No kidding. They come by the truckloads.” Liv plopped back to the window seat and toyed with the yellow stones lining the windowsills.

  Alex remembered those stones. When she was little, she assumed they were expensive. Old people always had valuables stashed around their houses. And when they died, their relatives pillaged their belongings and went on antique shows and made a fortune. When Alex was alive, Liv’s grandmother told her that voix stones weren’t worth anything to anyone who didn’t know what they could do. Alex hadn’t understood at the time that the dead treasured different things than the living. Looking around the house now, Thea’s stock in the afterlife could rival the Queen’s diamonds.

  Thea’s muffled response cushioned the room. Sweet as honey, sticky with concern.

  “My friends,” Liv replied.

  “Your melancholy is misplaced. They’re much more alive than you think. Save your pity for greater things.”

  “Like yourself.” The Jester giggled.

  Alex felt them falling away from the scene. The colors in the room bled into one another. The objects in the room melted together before they began to blur. Alex held on tighter to Chase.

  Don’t let go.

  She wasn’t ready to go yet, so she concentrated on holding minds with Chase.

  When Thea spoke to the Jester, bursts of silver-blue and indigo puffed from her mouth like cigarette smoke. “Why don’t you go rearrange the pantry like usual?”

  “I should padlock it instead,” he suggested.

  “Or go hide some socks,” Liv chimed in. She shifted in her seat to face Thea. “If he wasn’t here this place would be perfect.”

  The boy propped up his feet. “You know nothing.”

  “You keep quiet,” Thea scolded him. “And get your shoes off my table.”

  “What is he talking about, Grandma?”

  Thea kept her thoughts behind her red lips.

  Come on, Thea, Alex urged. Give us something. Why was the Frank name on Sephi’s contract?

  “I hope you do like it here,” the boy said, and when Thea responded with silence, he grinned. “Since you’re never allowed to leave.”

  Thea breathed sparks of red. “It isn’t safe for us Franks out there. Too many spirits who could use us to barter.”

  Everything in Alex’s sight became clearer.

  I think we need to go soon, Chase warned.

  Jester spun his hat on his finger. “Liv feels a pull toward you, Thea. Or, at least, that’s what she thinks. She doesn’t realize that she’s naturally supposed to be drawn to this area.”

  Chase tugged at her. Time to go.

  The sensation rushing against her back reminded her of the dream where she felt like she was falling and falling.

  “Ooooph.” She hit the stiff floor, falling back into her rightful mind like the crack of a head against pavement. Her Brigitta room surrounded her.

  Chase sat up next to her, rubbing his forehead.

  Alex rolled to the side. “I don’t feel so great.”

  Chase reached for her, gathering her in his arms.

  “I don’t know how you handle those colors all the time. It’s like getting motion sick.”

  “I’m learning to deal with it.”

  Rae had returned when they were out. She stood with her back to them, facing the drawing. She lifted a finger and smeared the edges of the woods surrounding the Frank house.

  “Or Rae pulled us out.” Chase reached for Rae and pressed his thumb against the side of her cheek where a teardrop would be.

  “Is she crying?”

  “I don’t think we’re the only ones in the room who called Parrish home.”

  Rae picked up her charcoal pencil and faced the drawing again. She sighed once before furiously scribbling over the drawing.

  She didn’t stop until the paper shredded.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sigorny enjoyed lurking around at the Ex House. As the holidays crept nearer, many spirits traded their time at the ball fields for a warm couch at the Ex House. The mild temperatures in this part of the country didn’t mean a thing in a mental world. Sigorny’s mind made her believe she was cold because her past holidays meant snow, wooly hats, and frostbite. Considering the crowds of people huddled over warm Ex cups, she wasn’t alone in her thinking, and this was favorable for Sigorny because eavesdropping on conversations became much easier when she was hidden behind a computer screen or crouched in a corner behind a book.

  When she was living, she was desperate and would have forced herself to hang out in the Back Room, the cool game hall, even if she hated it and found it to be primitive. Now that she was someone, she didn’t need to make such sacrifices, and the Back Room did her no good because it was impossible to hear the gossip over the booming music.

  She loved the peaceful bar area of the Ex House with its hazy glow of contentment and dancing music notes. Last week, she’d seen the box seats from floor to ceiling for the first time. Booths protruded from the wall like fields of pods, and spirits projected themselves to the intimate tables. Once the cold weather struck—even if only in their minds—spirits began to absorb the new information in their workshops more effectively because it seemed so appropriate to do schoolwork here … or read the news. The bright, shiny stream of information stretched horizontally above the bar. Her name was there in lights. A dream come true.

  The barista passed her an Ex. “It’s on me.”

  How things change. Sigorn
y’s talent for gossip had paid off. People liked her now. They respected her. She would do whatever she had to do to keep it that way. She couldn’t stop trying to outdo herself, make the next story more enticing than the last. And to be honest, she was tired of Alex Ash. How much more dirt could she possibly dig up? She lifted her hands to look at the dirt staining her fingernails.

  If she wanted to intern somewhere in the Broderick Square after the Categorization, she needed to keep producing juicier stories than any other journalist, and after her recent success, several other spirits had started sporting notepads and pencils, eager to steal any little piece of Sigorny’s success they could get their hands on. People were ruthless. She had always known this, but now she had something to lose. Determination possessed her with an itching anxiety.

  Tired or not, she needed to maintain this fabulous new storyline. The other day, she’d been late to leave the ABC classroom because she was arguing with Professor Duvall about a minerals assessment. Skye Gossamer shimmied into the room with her movie-star face twisted in distress. Sigorny waited in the hallway to listen to Skye fret about some incident in the woods, something she couldn’t remember. Couldn’t remember? That didn’t happen to a spirited mind, but Sigorny turned to leave because tree-hugger Skye was probably scared of something ridiculous, like uprooted flowers along the side of the road.

  She stopped when Skye mentioned eyes internally following her everywhere. Her mind wouldn’t let them go. Luminous eyes, Skye said before she asked if that meant what she suspected.

  Give me more, Sigorny pleaded, but Duvall was no dummy. She must have sprayed some crazy concoction in the air or grinded some of her stones into dust because the conversation silenced. It didn’t take long to figure out what they’d been discussing. Research was so much easier with a brilliant mind. Sigorny patted her own head to thank it. When she connected eerie glowing eyes to the traits of the gifted, she ran with the idea, even if she didn’t have hard information.

  The gifted were here. They’d been spotted by a newbury.

  The article went straight to the top of the news ticker. Spirits in the streets began to recognize Sigorny, to celebrate her. Some were even beginning to trail her to see where she found her sources. It was surreal! Witch sightings sent the city into a panic resulting in the Chancellor himself addressing the masses, claiming that Ardors were stationed in town, and the Patrol was doing everything they could to keep the city safe.

  Sigorny followed up with a quick thought to her fans: why would they need Ardors in town if the Patrol was keeping the peace?

  Tonight, she lucked out. She reached the Ex House early enough to disguise herself behind the computer in the corner of the bar. And who came to sit across from her? None other than Alex Ash and Skye Gossamer. The powers that be were shining down on her! She stuffed her mouth with her fist to keep from squealing with glee.

  “How are you sleeping?” Skye asked Alex after they each ordered a hot drink.

  “It’s getting worse,” Alex replied.

  Sigorny jotted down ideas. No sleep. Alex is anxious? Addicted to something? Mental disorder?

  “Is it Rae’s fault?”

  “I don’t think so, but I’m worried about her.”

  “Why? She’s older than you are. She should be worried about you.”

  Alex let out a long exhale. “I worry about anyone who sleeps less than I do.”

  “What does she do all day?”

  “She sketches. Or she visits Duvall, I think.”

  “I thought she sketched at night.”

  Sigorny assumed they were discussing the Lost One. No one knew anything about the child, but it wasn’t abnormal for a Lost One to set up shop in a city for a few months and then move on. No one paid much attention. Lost Ones were like stray dogs.

  “Why aren’t you sleeping?” Skye asked.

  “Chase’s nightmares don’t help. He’s been having them more and more.”

  “Car crash?”

  “Yeah.”

  Why would Chase’s dreams affect Alex? Were they sneaking around at night? She wondered if that might be newsworthy. Newburies breaking the rules. Nah, that was last year’s news. Besides, newburies no longer wanted to hear about each other. They could participate in that sort of gossip in the vestibule. She needed more about Sephi Anovark.

  Alex sighed. “There’s so much going on around here. When I first died, I wanted to know everything. About me, about Sephi, about my family, and who I was.”

  Sigorny leaned so close to the computer monitor that the energy from the screen began to tickle her cheek.

  “I’m starting to think there’s a reason that spirits leave well enough alone.”

  Skye’s arms stretched high enough into the air that Sigorny could see them above her monitor. Skye reached for the classical music notes and caught them in her hands. “What do you mean?”

  “Think about it. Information is out there everywhere. Our world has no limits. There’s a reason why certain things aren’t shared. And I think there’s a reason why spirits don’t seek it out, why they don’t want to know.”

  “You’re losing me.”

  “Ignorance is bliss.”

  Skye released the notes, and they flew to the ceiling. “You’re the last person I expected to ever hear say that. You ask more questions than a four-year-old.”

  “Have you ever been into that health center? You should go. It does make you feel better, but most of the exercises aren’t about analyzing people or places. They’re games, and math, ideas, and progression.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Whatever happened to history?”

  “I hated history.”

  “Well … me, too. In school. But I’m saying I guess I can see why the professors want to keep the past in the past, you know. I need to take a page out of that book.”

  “Then you might want to stop reading Sigorny’s articles.”

  Sigorny’s mind fluttered. She was a topic of conversation! She saw her reflection in the computer monitor. She was beaming like a goon and didn’t care.

  “Haven’t you wondered why other so-called reporters don’t scoop her?” Alex asked. “They report about astronomy and medical advances and the arts.”

  “I see what you’re saying.”

  “I did all that investigating into my past, and where did it get me? Sleepless because I can’t stop having nightmares about home, and the gifted, and the mental hospital where I died.”

  Mental hospital! Sigorny wrote it down and circled it three times. Once again, she shoved her fist in her mouth to keep from screaming in excitement. Alex died in an insane asylum. This was too good. Right when she thought there was nothing else to write about! Alex was crazy! The masses would eat this up.

  “I wake myself to get out of the dream, and I feel like I’ve run a thousand miles and Rae is holding my hand.”

  Sigorny didn’t need to use her infamous little notebook. The computer sat ready and waiting in front of her. As she began to type her next article, her fingers moved so quickly a haze rose up from the keyboard. She swatted it, hoping Alex and Skye would assume it was steam from an Ex drink.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sigorny L.

  Voice of the Newburies

  Ever wonder what happened to the kid last year who couldn’t get over his death? You remember him, right? The little boy who would run circles around the courtyard, howling and trying to rip out hair that didn’t exist.

  Well, I found him.

  He’s currently a resident of a mental treatment center. Eidolon’s medical center refers the mentally cracked of the afterlife to this facility. The most interesting fact about this treatment center? It’s for the living and the dead. You read that right.

  The Eskers Mental Rehabilitation Center opened its doors in the late eighteenth century in Parrish, Maryland. Not only are some of the patients dead, but much of the staff is dead, as well. I suppose whe
n the patients are insane, it doesn’t matter if they see ghosts roaming the halls. Half the doctors are Havilahs, and research shows that at one time, half the residents were Havilahs, too.

  Their most recent patient was Harrison Blotten, our young courtyard sprinter. Before Room 11 belonged to him, it belonged to a certain Alex Ash.

  So my question: will the fate of our world end up in the hands of a lunatic?

  ***

  Rae’s sketches wallpapered Alex’s room. In fact, in some areas, Rae hadn’t even used paper; she’d colored a masterpiece right on the wall. Alex didn’t mind. They belonged there, but sometimes in the dark before she fell asleep, the charcoal on her formerly white walls made them seem far too similar to the gray interior of the Eskers Institution with its moving shadows and loud emotions. It didn’t help that Alex’s dreams kept taking her back there.

  On the afternoon of the winter solstice, her mind was at peace, maybe because of the daylight, or because the happiness of the holidays prevented unwanted memories. The pictures in her sleeping mind remained blank. She could feel herself curled in a ball but could see and hear nothing. The only sense was touch. She felt a gentle hand remove her hair tie, and her scalp relaxed as her hair fell free.

  Chase’s presence arrived like a heat. He raked his fingers through her hair and shifted the pillow under her head. He loved her. The feeling was everywhere, singing to her. She did not budge from that cocoon of melodic warmth.

  His hand found hers, but when her fingers opened, she forgot about the note she clutched there, the one she found outside her door that morning with her other solstice gifts. It was a warning. It was a revelation.

  And it was from Jonas.

  Alex jackknifed awake upon realizing what Chase found in her hand, but the damage was done. He’d only seen the note for a few seconds, but that was long enough.

  “He hasn’t talked to us in months, and he sends a note to you? How dare he write to you after what he’s done!” Chase paced the room in a fury, his hands clasped behind his neck. “And he came to visit you?”