The Gryphon Project

by Carrie Mac

  Without being asked, Fawn changed into her nightgown and crawled into bed, although it was still light out and not even eight o’clock. She gathered Bunny in her arms and waited for Phoenix to start reading. With a steadying breath, Phoenix started the story. When she got to the part where Horse tells Rabbit about being made real, Phoenix had to pause to will back the tears that threatened once again.

  “Keep going,” Fawn said as she stifled a yawn.

  “‘Does it hurt?’ asked the Rabbit.

  “‘Sometimes,’ said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ‘When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.’” Phoenix sighed. Chrysalis claimed it didn’t hurt, being reconned. But it had to, didn’t it? Despite their intravenous drips and sedation? As your bones knitted together? As your new skin stretched over muscles and tendons? So accelerated? Did Gryph feel anything right now? Had she? The two times she’d been where he was now?

  “Read.” Fawn’s eyes were closed now.

  “‘Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,’ he asked, ‘or bit by bit?’

  “‘It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become.’

  “I can’t—” Phoenix’s voice was thick. “I just can’t read this one tonight, Fawny.”

  But Fawn was now, thankfully, asleep. Phoenix closed the book and set it gently on the bedside table, and then she just sat there on the edge of her little sister’s bed as the dusk grew, and slowly the tiny pinhole lights set into Fawn’s ceiling reacted to the dark and brightened into constellations. Exhausted, Phoenix stretched out beside Fawn, who breathed heavily with deep sleep. But Phoenix couldn’t sleep. Instead, she lay staring at the starlit ceiling, waiting for the household to creak into slumber. The sound of her aunt and grandma leaving, old Riley being let out for one last pee, then Eva and Oscar climbing up the stairs to bed.

  Phoenix feigned sleep when she heard her parents’ footsteps near. Oscar and Eva stood together in the doorway, watching their daughters sleep, before shuffling down the hall to their own room. When she heard their door shut, Phoenix crept out of Fawn’s room and sat on the top stair until her parents were in bed and the lights turned out. Then she made her way down the stairs, avoiding the same creaks that Gryph had mastered on his many illicit midnight field trips. She collected a jacket and her backpack and let herself out the back door so stealthily that not even Riley stirred in his bed just steps away.

  PHOENIX RAPPED on the little window on Willis’s hut by the gate. He’d fallen asleep sitting up and came to with a guilty start. He didn’t ask why she wanted to be let out, and she was thankful for it. He just buzzed her through, as he probably had done the same for Gryphon many a time.

  “Hang on just a minute there, kiddo,” he said when she was on the other side. He passed her a slip of paper with a phone number. “That’s mine. You call me if you get in trouble.”

  “Thanks, Willis.” She tucked the number into her pocket, doubtful he’d be of help where she was going.

  As if reading her mind, he nodded sagely and said, “I know people.”

  “Okay.” She thanked him again and headed off toward the nearest train station outside the Shores, which was a good half-hour walk. She couldn’t take the train right out of the Shores, because the station had constant surveillance. She’d never walked this way alone after dark, and she was dismayed to discover that she was frightened of the eerie night silence and the fact that she was the only person— not that she’d necessarily want to meet anyone out here.

  The station was well lit, and she was glad to see it as she came around the last corner. It shone like a beacon, and she practically ran the last block. She rushed up the stairs and onto the platform, then pulled out Saul’s phone and composed a text to Tariq, copying Huy and Neko as well. “Meet me at the Balmoral in one hour.”

  Tariq was the first to reply. “Saul? Is that you?”

  So he was suspicious. Or surprised to hear from him, at least.

  Huy and Neko’s replies came while she was boarding the train, and both texts consisted of just one word. “Okay.”

  PHOENIX PUSHED HER FEAR ASIDE as forcefully as she could manage as she made her way to the diner they’d gathered at after the rave. She was the first one of the group to arrive, so she chose a booth at the back and ordered a cup of coffee and a muffin, just to get the waitress to stop hovering.

  Tariq pushed through the doors not five minutes after she got there. He looked around frantically, but when he spotted her, his expression swiftly changed to disappointment. This stung, but she had tricked him, after all. He slid into the booth across the table from her and nodded when the waitress gestured at him with the coffee pot. He didn’t say hello, and she didn’t either, so the two of them sat there like silent lovers after a quarrel, he stirring cream into his mug with angry clinks of the spoon and she sitting as still as she could, not touching her coffee at all, her muffin tilted on the plate in front of her, the pat of butter melting beside it in the humid heat of the diner.

  “Air conditioning’s busted,” the waitress said by way of apology when she eyed the yellow slick on Phoenix’s plate. To Tariq, “You want your usual, honey?”

  She knew him, of course. Gryph and the guys came here often enough.

  “Thanks, Penny, but not right now. Maybe later.”

  Penny left, placing the coffee pot back onto the burner at the server station. Tariq waited until she was well out of earshot before sliding the muffin out of the way and leaning across the table.

  “What are you doing?” His tone was angry, to match the dark glare of his eyes.

  “You better start telling me what’s going on, Tariq.” Phee’s voice shook. She was more nervous than she’d thought. “I’m serious.”

  Tariq sat back, his arms folded. “What is ‘serious’”—he put quotes around the word with his fingers—“is that you came here alone. By yourself. To a dangerous part of the city. Gryph would be furious.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well, he’s not here to comment … is he?”

  “I’m working on it, Phoenix.” Tariq’s look was so intense, so earnest, that she had a sudden wash of regret for her midnight stunt. But before she could apologize for tricking him to meet her, in came Huy—impeccably dressed as usual, despite the hour—and Neko, following close behind, his hoodie pulled over his head in defiance of the heat, the cuffs of his baggy pants dragging on the ground. He looked as though he’d rolled out of a deep sleep and straight in through the café’s front door. She’d probably woken them all up. Well, good. God forbid that anyone should get a good night’s sleep while Gryph’s future hung in the balance.

  “Have a seat,” she said, already angry with them all.

  “She’s got Saul’s phone,” Tariq announced to the others by way of explanation. At first, Phoenix wondered at how quickly he’d pieced together her little puzzle, but then she saw that she’d left the phone sitting out on the table. As she reached for it, Tariq did too, snatching it before she could and tucking it in his pocket.

  “Tariq! That’s mine!”

  Huy shook his head. “It’s Saul’s, Phoenix.”

  “But I found it.”

  “Where?” Neko asked.

  “Do you know where he is?” Huy added.

  They were certainly acting as if they didn’t know what had happened to him either. But it could be just that. An act. With no leverage left, she told them about looking for Saul in the mall, after he’d summoned her there with a cryptic message.

  “So,” she said when she was finished with her story, “where is he?”

  “We don’t know,” Huy said.

  Phee looked at Neko. “Do you know?”

  He barely looked up. “Nope.”

  “Tariq?”

  He shook his head.

  “Does this have to do with what happened to Gryph?”

  The three boys shared a look. Tariq spoke for the three of them. “I don’t think so.”

  “That’s it
?” Phee slammed a fist on the table. “That’s the best you’ve got? ‘I don’t think so’?”

  The waitress, startled, looked up from her seat at the counter, where she was nursing a cup of tea and chatting with the short order cook. The cook and waitress glared at Phee, but soon went back to their conversation. Phee lowered her voice.

  “You have secrets. All of you. About Gryph. And Saul too, I bet—”

  “Hang on,” Neko said, interrupting her. “What makes you think you know anything about any of us?”

  “Let her talk,” Tariq said.

  Neko ducked his head again and jammed his hands into his pockets with a scowl.

  “Neko Balkashan, of all of you boys I know you the most. I’ve known you since you were born, so don’t tell me that I don’t know you.”

  With a nonchalant shrug, Neko muttered something under his breath.

  “What did you say?”

  Neko glanced up from under his cowl. “Nothing.”

  Tariq gave Neko a shove. “Show some respect, kid!”

  “Sorry.” Neko had fixed his sight on the cutlery in front of him. “But …”

  “But what?”

  “But …” His shoulders still hunched, he lifted his eyes. “You really don’t know me, Phee. I’m not two, or five, or ten anymore and you have to stop treating me like Nadia’s kid brother because I’m more than that. More than you’ll ever know.”

  Phoenix was taken aback. Neko had never talked to her like that. And she had to admit that he had a point. Before she had to come up with something to say, Tariq broke in.

  “I think we should all go home.” He pulled out his wallet and laid enough money on the table for the whole bill. “It’s late.”

  Phoenix felt her cheeks flush with frustration once again. “And my brother is still dead!”

  Huy looked away, his face suddenly pale and drawn, betraying his bravado act. Neko didn’t look up from his angry slump at all. Of the three boys, only Tariq met her pleading eyes.

  “Phoenix—”

  “No!” She could hear the lies already. “I want the truth. You guys know what happened! You could fix this mess.”

  Tariq cast a quick glance at each of the other boys before answering for them all. “What if you don’t want to know the truth?”

  Phoenix sat back as if she’d been slapped. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Tariq held her gaze.

  “Tell me,” she practically whispered. “Tell me anyway.”

  “Don’t,” Neko said.

  “Don’t,” Huy echoed. “Not yet.”

  “Tariq. Tell me.” Phee waited. But Tariq said nothing.

  “Fine.” Furious, she grabbed her backpack and shoved her way out of the booth. “All three of you can thank yourselves for keeping Gryph dead.”

  “Wait.” Tariq ran after her. “I’ll go with you.”

  “No!” Before she could think better of it, she shoved him so hard that he fell back, crashing against the counter, upsetting the tip jar. It fell to the floor and shattered, spilling coins and glass across the linoleum. The waitress half stood, but then paused when she caught Phoenix’s angry glare, meant for Tariq. “Don’t patronize me! Don’t see me home safely, don’t spare me the truth, don’t even talk to me until you’re ready to be real! I’m sick of your lies! All of you!” She slammed open the door to the street, the hot humid stench of rotting fish hitting her hard as she sucked in a deep breath, trying to slow her shallow, panicky gulps for air.

  She ran for the station, not out of fear but because she wanted to feel something other than the terror and sadness that sat heavily across her shoulders. She welcomed the ache in her lungs and the hot stretch of her muscles as she took the stairs two at a time up to the platform. Exhausted, she sat directly in the line of sight of the security camera. It was safer, and while she’d told Tariq that she didn’t want him to see her home safely, the truth remained that it was dangerous down there, and she was nervous.

  WHICH IS WHY she leaped up, ready to flee when she saw a boy approaching, his eyes fixed on her.

  “Hey!” She waved both arms at the camera. “Security!”

  “Phoenix!” the boy shouted. Still waving, Phoenix squinted to get a better look at him. Tall and lean. Dark hair, curly. Long nose. Glasses. No one she’d ever seen before. “Wait!”

  Behind her on the nearest wall, the intercom crackled. “Security. State your emergency.”

  But the boy was talking, and within seconds he had her full attention.

  “Phoenix Elaine Nicholson-Lalonde.” He wasn’t yelling. He was speaking calmly, hands out in front of him in a gesture of goodwill. “You live at the Shores, 26 Abalone Drive. Your mother is Eva, your father is Oscar. She’s a doctor. He’s a minister, and he’s always praying.” The boy smiled, and it was for real. Not fake. Not forced. “Like that time the media got pictures of us in one of his pray-ins.”

  Us? “Who are you?” Phee stared at him, trying to place him. But she’d never seen him before, she’d swear to it.

  “I have something to tell you. In private.”

  The voice sounded again, tinny and bored. “Security. State your emergency.”

  With her eyes locked on this stranger, Phee answered the security guard on the other end of the intercom. “It’s okay. False alarm.”

  “It is a violation of the Transportation Safety Act to activate an emergency resource without due cause,” the voice reported as if reading it from a card. “Be advised that your identity has been recorded and this infraction will be added to your file.”

  While Phoenix was being lectured by some faceless, half-asleep security guy, the stranger hung back in the shadows, quiet.

  The train came, and Phoenix got on, trailed closely by the boy. He sat opposite her and stared at her, unnerving her to the point that she quickly regretting getting on the car with him.

  “I’m called Marlin,” he finally said.

  Phoenix thought it was odd he’d say it that way, as if he were from another country and the idioms didn’t quite translate.

  “Okay then, the one called Marlin,” she said, “what do you want with me?” Maybe he was a fan of Gryph’s? Someone who followed him in the media?

  “Remember when Nadia broke her arm?”

  That had certainly never been in the media.

  “Who are you?” And why was he speaking so casually about people he didn’t know? About things he couldn’t—shouldn’t— know about?

  “It was at Deer Lake. We were camping—”

  “You weren’t there.” Phee knew this as a fact.

  “And she jumped into the lake, only not exactly the same way everyone else had. She whacked her arm on a rock underwater and bust it almost in half.”

  That’s exactly how it had happened.

  Phoenix’s skin crawled. Everything about him was at once creepy and compelling. “Who are you?” she asked again.

  He leaned forward. He was wearing a button-up shirt, checked, open over a black undershirt. Baggy jeans and a studded belt. Skater shoes. Arms muscled and tanned. Eyes green behind the chunky frames. No one she’d ever met, not that she could remember anyway.

  “Do you go to my school?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of? What kind of answer is that?”

  He ducked his head out of view of the security cameras and lowered his voice. “I’m Saul, Phee.” He held her confused gaze. “It’s me. Saul.”

  “Liar!” Phee gasped, her voice catching in her throat and refusing to budge. “I don’t know who you are or what kind of freak you are, but you’re sick.”

  He reached for her knee and she scooted into the next seat.

  “Get away from me!”

  “Okay, okay.” Arms up, he sat back, the aisle between them an inadequate moat. “Take your time, Phee. Think about it.”

  Phee leaped to her feet and pressed the button for the train to stop at the next station. “Get the hell away from me, you asshole.”

  “Ask
me anything.” The boy crossed his arms. “About anything you want.” Casting a wary glance to the cameras, he added, “For obvious reasons, I’d rather not get into it here. Not in detail, anyway.”

  The train was slowing, and Phee was getting off. Whether or not she would call security would be based on his answer.

  “Fawn’s favourite book?”

  “The Velveteen Rabbit. At the moment anyway.” Not even a hesitation. And then, “I read it to her at that downhill race at Winter Park, in Gryph’s change room. Nadia was wearing that jacket with the fur trim. And a pink thong.” He grinned.

  The train stopped, and Phee backed onto the platform, dazed and frightened, but mostly curious. Marlin followed her, and when the train pulled away again and they were alone on the platform, Phee gestured for him to follow her down to the street level and away from the cameras.

  THEY SAT on opposite benches that lined a walkway through a little park outside a subdivision Phee wasn’t familiar with. It looked a lot like hers, and she could see the orange glow from the lights of the security hut at the gate. She took comfort knowing someone was there, and within sprinting distance if she needed to get away. First she had to figure out who this person was, and how he knew what he did.

  “You’re a smart girl, Phoenix,” Marlin said. “Think about it. Saul disappears. This guy shows up, claims to be Saul. Strange, but not impossible. You’ve heard about illegal recons. Everyone has.”

  It was true. She had heard about them. But the same way she’d heard about terrorist attacks in faraway lands, or clandestine drug labs exploding out in the desert. It wasn’t a part of her life, and she could hardly imagine it any better than she could a fairy tale brought to life. Marlin noted the skepticism on her face and continued.

  “Like I said. Ask me anything.”