The Gryphon Project

by Carrie Mac

  “What’s my dog’s name?”

  “Riley. He’s fourteen, and can hardly make it up the stairs anymore. Your dad picks up his rear end and walks him up them like a wheelbarrow. Or Gryph carries him up.”

  Phee’s mind slowly opened to the possibility, but the mental shift was painful, as if it were her rib cage being sawed open instead. “Tell me about my granddad.”

  “Alzheimer’s. He’s losing his marbles, but your grandma won’t put him into a home, even though your auntie Trish thinks she should. Your mother doesn’t. She wants him at home as long as possible.”

  Phee’s head spun. She gripped the edge of the bench and leaned forward, putting her head between her knees. “You could find all this out somehow. On lync. Anyone could.” She said it, but she didn’t really believe it.

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know.” Phee shrugged. “I don’t know anything anymore.” To her horror, she was about to cry. She kept her head down, not wanting this boy to see how he’d completely unhinged her.

  “I can tell you something that no one could know. No one.”

  “Okay.” Phee’s voice sounded small. Defeated. She dared a teary peak at him. “Give it your best shot.”

  “Your brother pushed you into the river.”

  Phee sucked in her breath as if she’d been punched.

  “He only told you”—Marlin counted back on his fingers— “eleven days ago. And I know that because he called me afterwards and told me that he felt like shit about telling you. He wondered if he made a mistake.”

  “Did you know before?”

  Marlin nodded.

  “And you never told me?”

  “I swore I wouldn’t tell a soul,” Marlin said. “So long as he wouldn’t tell anyone my secret.”

  “So he knew. About your status.”

  Again, he nodded.

  “So you lied to me when you said I was the only one who knew.”

  “True.”

  How could they be sitting on this ordinary bench talking about such crazy things? Such unbelievably unordinary things? How could Phee’s life be so crazy, yet this bench was still just a plain old bench? She gripped the edge in her fingers and watched them turn white. She closed her eyes and willed the world to return itself to its upright position, but when she opened her eyes nothing had changed, and there was Marlin, standing in front of her, a stranger who knew her so well.

  REVEAL

  She was full of questions, and Marlin—or Saul—had an answer for every single one. Marlin, as he instructed her to call him, joined her on her bench. Phee couldn’t see him as Saul anyway, even if he was. Saul was blond and tanned and every bit the star football player with the physique to match. This guy looked like a badass four-eyed skater boy who rarely ate. And besides, no one was ever supposed to be reconstructed into a different identity. That had been made law decades ago, after a string of criminals had done just that, looking to evade capture based on their appearance. That’s when the technology became classified, and the various labs combined into one master lab, Chrysalis. But the illegal recon aside, Phoenix had much more simple questions.

  “How did you find me tonight?”

  “I was following Neko.” Marlin’s eyes reddened. “And keeping an eye on Nadia.”

  Nadia! What about Nadia! “She knows?”

  “Of course not. She’d never believe me, and she’d probably be the first one to turn me in. You know her.”

  “But she loves Saul. I mean, you.”

  “Not me. Not anymore. She’d be scared. Confused. I don’t want to put her through that. I don’t want her to have to lie. Not when the consequences are so high.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever be able to tell her?”

  “I can’t see how I could ever get her to understand,” Marlin said sadly. “Do you?”

  Phoenix had a flash of what it would look like if Marlin tried to convince Nadia that he was really Saul. There’d be screaming and hysterics, and yes, Nadia would be on the phone to Crimcor so fast that he’d hardly have time to beg her not to. The punishment for illegal reconning was decommissioning. Death, in less polished words. Phoenix pushed that awful thought far away.

  “Where have you been all this time?”

  “I can show you. But not now.”

  And the most important question of all. “What do you know about Gryphon’s death?”

  He paused before locking eyes with her. “Everything.”

  “But?” Everything about the way he said that one word told her that he wasn’t going to tell her.

  “But I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

  “Was it suicide?” That’s all that mattered. If she could just prove that much.

  Marlin glanced up at her. “What do you think?”

  “When Gryph gets curious about something, he needs to experience it for himself before he’ll let it go and move on.”

  “You think he was obsessed with death?”

  “Not obsessed necessarily, but fascinated, sure.”

  “Especially after he found out about me.”

  “Let me guess, about a year ago.”

  “Yeah. You noticed?”

  “I noticed how reckless he’d become. How often he blew his wins.”

  “Sometimes he said he wished he could be reconned so he’d know what it was like. What you and I went through. I wondered if maybe he was trying to punish himself for pushing you into the river.”

  “Not like this. I can’t see him killing himself.”

  Marlin paused before answering with a voice thick with misery. “There’s your answer, then.”

  “You have to help me prove it,” Phee implored.

  “Does Chrysalis honestly think he’d kill himself?”

  “They’re investigating it as a possibility.”

  “Maybe”—Marlin thought as he spoke—“maybe they think it’s his way of getting out of his contract.”

  “Why would he want to do that? Why has he been screwing it up so bad lately?”

  “It’ll all make sense. Soon.” Marlin glanced at her. “Before the final ruling. I promise. Gryph will come home.”

  “It was almost over today, you know.” Phee told him about the meeting at Chrysalis, about seeing Gryph in stasis. When she finished describing her brother as he was now, she was surprised to see Marlin’s eyes welling with tears, until she reminded herself that he was Saul underneath the disguise.

  “But it’s not over. We’ll fix it. We’ll bring him home.”

  The sun was starting to crest over the pitched roofs nearby. Phee had to get home. No matter how badly she wanted to lock herself and this apparent stranger in a room until she knew everything, she had to be home before her parents noticed she was gone. If she got caught, she’d never be able to sneak out again.

  “Who’s we?” Phee asked. “The guys? They know about you?”

  “Only Gryph.”

  “I’m supposed to believe you?”

  “I only told you and Gryph. And Gryph doesn’t know about this.” He gestured at his new body.

  “Only because he was dead when you”—Phee didn’t have a word for what Saul had done by getting a new identity—“when you became Marlin?”

  He nodded. “And the others don’t know about any of it. It’s too risky. For everyone involved.” Marlin put a hand on her shoulder but quickly took it off when she flinched. “Look, Phee. I know you have to get home. And I promise I’ll meet you again, whenever you want. But I can’t explain everything now, okay?”

  “No. Not okay.” Phee shrugged her backpack onto her shoulders. “But if you are Saul, for real, then I know you’re only going to tell me when it suits you. So. Fine. Whatever. Okay.”

  He grinned at her, pausing a long time before replying. “It’s good to see you, Phee. Really good. I’ve been watching Nadia and she’s been so sad. You’re a really good friend to her. And me. And a good sister to Gryph, even after he admitted pushing you in that river.”

  It was
bizarre to hear him talking to her so familiarly when he looked like a complete and utter stranger. But still, she sensed something more from him—Saul’s inner self shining brightly enough that she was warmed by it, even at this odd distance. He was in there. Saul was. In that stranger’s body. And who was Marlin? Or his cells and DNA and bones, rather? Where did Saul get the illegal recon? Was it safe? Had his family been reconned in the same manner? And why? The questions that lurked in all the shadows.

  Phee reeled from the overwhelming hugeness of it all. She wished she could stay and interrogate him. But she had to go home. The sun was above them now, and the day was warming up.

  “I have to go. How can I get hold of you?”

  “You can’t,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”

  She had so many questions, but no time at all. She had to get back. She said goodbye to Marlin … or Saul … or whoever he was, and sprinted back to the station.

  WHEN SHE GOT TO THE SHORES, Willis was frantic.

  “There’s only five minutes left on my shift!” He ushered her through the gate. “What would you have told the day guy, huh? You’re only lucky he’s not here yet.”

  “I’m sorry, Willis. It won’t happen again.”

  “That’s right!” he replied to her back as she sprinted across the green. “Because I won’t let you out in the first place!”

  Thank God, everyone was still asleep. Riley wagged his tail but didn’t bother to get up as she crept through the kitchen. As she passed the fridge, she realized how hungry she was. She opened the door and was just reaching for an apple when her mother appeared in the doorway, bleary-eyed, her robe hanging loose on her drooping shoulders. Phee froze, apple in hand. What if Eva had gotten up in the middle of the night and found her gone? What if she’d been waiting for her all this time? But no, her mother smiled weakly at her, then took the apple from her.

  “Let me make you a proper breakfast.” Eva stopped in front of the sink and set the apple on the counter, where it promptly rolled onto the floor. Eva glanced down at it, as if it were an enormous distance and that’s how far she’d have to trek to retrieve it. “Oh dear.”

  Phee hurried to pick up the apple. “How about I make you something?” With gentle hands, she steered her mom into a chair at the table and went about putting on a pot of coffee; grinding the beans, pouring the water. Normal things that did not feel in the least bit normal anymore.

  EVA SAT AT THE TABLE while Phee mixed up the batter for waffles. Her father came down as the waffle iron was heating up, and then Fawn too, bounding down the stairs and into the kitchen with an armload of stuffed animals.

  “Bunny said Gryphon is coming home today,” she announced as she sat the stuffed rabbit in his usual spot, only the tips of his ears appearing over the tabletop. “So he and the other stuffies want to be waiting for him. Like at a surprise party. I’m going to line them up on the front steps.”

  “Fawn, honey,” Eva began. “I don’t think …”

  “Actually,” Fawn shifted her armload and plucked Bunny out of his seat. “I better do it now. In case he comes home in time for waffles.” With that, Fawn flounced out of the room with her plush entourage.

  “Oscar?” Eva raised bewildered eyes to her husband. He nodded and got up to follow Fawn.

  He kissed Eva’s forehead as he passed. “I’ll take care of it.”

  BUT FAWN would not be swayed. She set up her stuffed animals on the steps and all along the front walk. She strung the banner from her recent birthday party along the porch railing, and arranged her tea set on the little table beside the swing. At some point, after waffles and before Fawn was finished her preparations, Eva retreated to her bedroom, defeated by Fawn’s enthusiastic determination and refusal to accept the truth about her brother.

  Oscar had to go to the church to take care of some neglected work, so it was up to Phoenix to try to dissuade Fawn from insisting on her ill-timed and inappropriate party.

  Phoenix joined her little sister on the porch swing, where Fawn was taking a little break from her party preparations.

  “Hey.” Phoenix offered Fawn a glass of iced tea.

  “Can you make some iced tea for the party? And maybe a cake? The chocolate one he likes with the cherry goop in the middle? You know, what he had for his birthday?”

  “Look, Fawn—”

  “Or cupcakes,” Fawn said with a shrug. “That’d be okay too.”

  “Gryph isn’t coming home today.” Phoenix took Fawn’s hand, knowing full well Fawn’s mind was already ten steps ahead and out of the door of this conversation. She had to make Fawn understand before she drove Eva crazy with her childish optimism. “He’s not coming home today, and he might not be coming home ever. Do you understand?”

  “Grandma will make a cake. Want to go over with me and ask her?”

  “Fawn!” Phoenix gave her a stern shake. “Listen to me!”

  “I am!”

  “No you’re not.”

  “I am.” Blatantly, and with a cheeky grin to boot, Fawn tipped her glass of iced tea into Phoenix’s lap. “And I think you’re stupid. So there.”

  Phoenix resisted the urge to grab her little sister by the arms and hurl her off the porch in one furious move. “Get me a towel,” she growled. Fawn stood up, arms folded defiantly.

  “I don’t want to. I’m busy.”

  “Get me a towel!” Phoenix tried to account for Fawn’s absurd behaviour. She was only little. She didn’t understand. She was as upset as the rest of them but couldn’t communicate her feelings the way they could. And all the while, the cold wet splotch on her lap widened, seeping between her legs as if she’d pissed herself. “Now!”

  “No!” Fawn stamped her foot. “And you should shut up and stop talking about Gryphon like that!” With that, Fawn took off. Down the steps, out the gate, and across the green at breakneck speed toward their grandparents’ house. Phee let her go. She got up to go back inside but left the stuffies where they were.

  WHEN EVA finally dragged Fawn home that night, she still refused to bring in her stuffed animals. Only Bunny was taken in, because she slept with him. The others stood vigil in their designated spots on the steps, and were still there when Phoenix left after dinner for Nadia’s. She told her parents that she was sleeping over, but she’d told Nadia she had to come home, to be there in time to go to church with Oscar the next morning.

  Truth was that Saul—Marlin—had texted her after Fawn had taken off, instructing her to meet him at the benches at eleven that night. She would hang out with Nadia until it was time to meet him.

  NADIA, AS USUAL since Saul disappeared, was in her pyjamas when she answered the door. She and Phee settled in the kitchen, perched cross-legged on the island counter, a tub of double-fudge ice cream between them.

  “Where are your parents?”

  “They took Neko to a psychiatrist in Brampton.” Nadia dug her spoon into the carton, aiming for the ripple of fudge.

  “On a Saturday?”

  “No.” Nadia talked through a mouthful. “His appointment is Monday morning. But they’re worried he’ll stay out all night again or do something crazy, so they took him early.” She swallowed. “They promised him a day at the go-cart track. Like he’s six.”

  “A psychiatrist?”

  “You know my parents.” Nadia nudged the carton toward Phee. “They don’t give a crap unless we slit our wrists or lock ourselves in our room and starve to death. They think Neko is screwed up because of Gryph’s death being …” Nadia let her words trail into silence.

  Phee said it for her. “Permanent.”

  “Yeah.” Nadia nodded. “And Saul disappearing.”

  “But they think you’re okay? Even though he’s your boyfriend?” Phee clutched her spoon tightly in her fist, giving over to the pain of it digging into her palm instead of giving in to the urge to tell Nadia about Saul. Part of her argued that if the tables were turned, she’d want Nadia to tell her the truth. But the larger, more convincing part of
her reminded her that she was not Nadia, and that Nadia was a very different person. Someone for whom denial truly worked wonders. Someone for whom truth was not as valuable or all that questioned in the first place. Nadia was not like Phee. Not in the least. She didn’t need answers and explanations nearly as badly as Phee did.

  “Oh no, they think I’m totally screwed up too,” Nadia went on. “But in their funny math, him seeing a friend die is worse than my missing boyfriend, so he goes first. Even though Gryph was my friend too.” She glanced at Phee. “Sorry—I mean, Gryph is my friend too.”

  “It’s okay,” Phee said. “I know what you mean.”

  “Anyway,” Nadia said with a sad sigh, “I have to go on Tuesday, but I convinced them I wouldn’t do anything rash in the meantime. Plus, they said I can go on my own. You can come, if you want.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re lucky your parents aren’t freaks like mine.”

  “They’re freaks in their own way, trust me.”

  “But like, only teaming up to charge one of us off to a specialist. Like, would it kill them to just sit us all down together and talk? Like you guys do.”

  Phee nodded. She was thankful for her parents. She’d never envied Nadia hers, with their cool exchanges and schedules carefully designed to avoid each other and their kids wherever possible. Except times like this, when they were more than willing to put on a show and make it look as if they were attentive and involved. When they weren’t. Not really.

  THEY TALKED MOSTLY about Saul and Gryph, of course, with Phee editing herself so much that she finally gave up and let Nadia do most of the talking. She worried that her best friend would be able to read it on her face, or in her body language. That she could tell something was up and that Phoenix was lying. But Nadia was awash in sadness, and couldn’t see past her own misery to inquire much about Phee’s. Normally this would bother Phee, but not tonight. Tonight she was thankful that she didn’t have to lie any more than she already was. They put a movie on, but mostly for an excuse for a couple of hours of silence, and then it was time for Phee to go.

  She hugged Nadia hard before leaving. Nadia stood at the door, waving, which made Phee so sad that she almost cried. Nadia had no idea what was going on around her, how her friends were sinking in the quicksand of secrets and deception. Phee prayed she could fix it before it all crumbled and everyone was made to pay for the sins, great and small. Nadia too, for if she wasn’t so narrow-minded about things, Phee could include her in some of the mystery, and there might’ve been some hope that she and Saul could be reunited, if only in his new form. But then Phee couldn’t blame her. She wasn’t even sure she knew what she thought about it all. Except that it was illegal. And dangerous. And ultimately fascinating.