by Eve Langlais
Trudging to the third floor, she heard the yells of hellions unleashed. They woke with the bells when the sawrs did.
She sighed. Was this to be her entire life? Years and years of screaming children and rebellious thoughts that never turned into action?
“Laura, thank the Merr you’re here. I have to leave.” Ptmerr Karla, who minded the children on this floor at night, sat in a chair, her features pale while children ran wild in the room.
“Leave?” Laura frowned. “You can’t leave until your replacement arrives. Speaking of which, why are you alone?” The ptmerrs always worked with a sawr.
“Ptmerr Lenore never showed up and sawr Julie got sick last night. I think she was contagious.” Karla stood and put a hand to her belly, swaying. “You need to mind the children until another ptmerr comes. I don’t feel so good.”
Since mopping vomit was a task she’d prefer to avoid, Laura shooed Karla. “Go. I can handle them for a few minutes.”
Except a few minutes turned into an hour. Then two. The rules stated the children could never be left unattended, meaning she couldn’t leave to find out what had happened. Abandoning her post would result in a punishment for sure.
So she dealt with the six toddlers assigned to her. Despite their running wild upon her arrival, they’d settled down once she dug out activities for them to do. They all bent their heads to the task except for one.
The little boy with a dark cap of hair stared intently at her.
She frowned. “Staring is impolite, Horatio.”
Despite the different cognitive levels of the children, it was drilled into the sawrs that they were to speak to them as if they understood. Obviously a rule designed by someone who never worked with barely verbal tiny beings.
Horatio continued to watch her.
“Is something wrong? Does your stomach hurt?” Perhaps he’d also caught the illness afflicting the others. Rare, but not unheard of. The children in the Creche tended to be remarkably healthy. And strange at times.
Like now.
Rather than reply, the little boy’s lower lip trembled, and his eyes moistened with tears. He reached for her, both arms open, asking for her to pick him up. But Laura knew better than to draw him near for a hug. The Creche didn’t offer affection.
At her refusal, Horatio’s brow crinkled, and his lips turned outward in a sulky pout.
For a second remorse filled her, which was odd. She’d never gotten a hug in her life. Never wanted one and yet couldn’t help but stare the few times she spied people sharing them. How would it feel to have someone that close? In her space? Why do it at all?
When the pouting didn’t work, Horatio flipped into a sly smile. The kind that brought a malicious gleam to his eyes. Ridiculous of course. A small child like this? He had no intent other than the emotion driving him at the time.
She knew this, and yet, that smile sent a chill through her.
“Shall we find you an activity?” There were many kinds of puzzles to help the developing cognition of the children.
The boy shook his head, still grinning.
Still making her uneasy.
“Perhaps you need some time to yourself.” She cast a quick glance at the seclusion room, which proved to be as awful as the name. A veritable upright coffin with no windows or light, just a stool. And quiet.
Only once had she dared close herself in that room to see how it felt. The horrific feeling clung long after. How could she threaten a child with it? Never mind she would never actually do it.
Horatio didn’t seem bothered by the thought. He turned away from Laura, sporting that odd grin, and focused his attention on a little girl.
Blonde hair kept short because it was easier to manage at this age, Ariana tended to be a quiet child. Very delicate in her mannerisms. Well behaved, too. Yet when Horatio stared, she began to scream. Shrieked as if being flayed alive—which tended to be a sound that stuck with a person.
Laura could see no reason for such agonized cries, nothing visible. Why then could she feel something shimmering around them?
The very air throbbed with a nebulous presence. A low, chilling moan vibrated the space. More children screamed, and Laura was close to joining them as something took shape in the space above their heads. Swirls of dark and light, a ghostly beast appeared with shadow claws and glowing eyes.
A ferocious monster had obviously slipped in from outside the dome. From the Wasteland.
It reached for Ariana, who could only scream and cry. She was but a child. A small, defenseless child in Laura’s charge. Despite this beast making it past their guards, she would be blamed if something happened. She had to act, not just to save herself but because it was also the right thing to do.
Before she’d even formed a plan, Laura lunged. Hesitation wouldn’t save the girl. She thrust out her arms to shove the shadow beast far from the child. Her hands, her arms, indeed her whole body, went right through the monster. She staggered before recovering from her surprise. The thing had no substance.
The screams of the children turned to sobs, and Laura turned to see the monster hovering right above Horatio, who wore a pleased smirk—and no fear at all. As if he controlled the beast.
“How are you doing that?” she asked. “Actually, I don’t care. Stop what you’re doing.” A shake of her finger was to show firmness, even though she quaked inside. Afraid of a small child. How ridiculous. He barely reached her knees.
Horatio clapped his hands and bounced with glee as he exclaimed, “Scary!”
The creature grew bigger, more menacing and prowled forward with a shadowy step. It showed Laura its glowing eyes and jagged teeth.
“You’re making that monster,” she breathed, not understanding how it was possible. “Cease whatever you’re doing at once.” Despite the rules forbidding it, she reached for the boy and grabbed hold of his arms firmly.
Small fragile sticks in her hand, she squeezed, yet Horatio continued to smirk. The screaming of the children started anew.
“I said enough!” She couldn’t help but give him a little shake, hard enough he let out a sharp cry.
The shadow monster disappeared but found a new home in Horatio’s eyes. Storm clouds brewed in his dark pupils as he perused her. “No,” he said in a childish voice.
There was nothing childish or weak about the wave that hit her. Slammed her into a wall hard enough she gasped. How was it he had magical powers? Magic was a thing of stories. It didn’t exist, yet tell that to the invisible force pinning her to the wall, feet dangling.
Horatio skipped up to her, which somehow made it worse. He pointed at her. “Look inside.”
She felt something scrabbling at the edges of her mind. Little tiny claws. Trying to get into her head. Her eyes widened, and she whispered, “No. Get out of my head.” How was this possible? How did this child have a power over her thoughts?
He giggled, an earworm that tunneled, and she cried out, able to move her hands finally to clasp her head. The pulsing pain brought anguished moans and tears. She hit the floor and huddled in a heap.
“It hurts.” The pitiful plaint repeated in her as she rocked on the floor. Her pain multiplied by the voices screaming with her.
And he giggled.
He. Giggled.
It proved to be the sound she needed to move past pity to anger.
How dare he hurt me.
She gritted her teeth and pushed back against it.
But the thing fought fiercely, digging in claws that tore. Invisible claws because there was nothing there. Nothing actually touched her. It all happened in her head.
My head. This thing with the mocking smile dared invade her mind.
If only she had a wall, something to block him. A great big tall one like around the nursery. As if thinking it summoned it, there appeared a wall inside her mind, a weak one that the thing with claws ripped through. She concentrated on it. Made it of metal. Which buckled. So she added stone in front of it and built it around her thoughts, an
d the stronger it got, the more the thing retreated until her mind was her own again and her eyes shot open to meet Horatio’s.
He pouted. The claws scratched the surface of her mind.
“I said, enough.” She felt herself brimming, with anger, fear, and something indefinable. She reached for him, and despite there being a few paces between them, he flew.
Thrust backwards in the air, he hit the floor and slid on his bottom. The horrible scrabbling sensation stopped, but she kept her mental wall.
Horatio gaped at her. His lower lip wobbled. His eyes filled with tears. Then the boy began to cry, big gusty wails, which was, of course, when the door opened. The woman who walked in was not just a replacement for Karla but a tawnt, recognizable in her uniform of dark blue. She took in the room of crying children and immediately fixated on her.
“What’s going on here?”
Two
“She pushed me.” Horatio gulped between sobs.
“Is this true?” A stern gaze turned her way.
Laura pointed to Horatio, who did a good job looking pitiful and benign. “He—he made some kind of ghost monster.” It never even occurred to her to lie, and she felt guilt over the times she’d heard stories and assumed those telling them made things up.
The newly arrived ptmerr gasped. “What kind of feeble excuse is this? He’s a child.”
“Hurt,” Horatio said, lower lip trembling, but Laura saw the conniving in his eyes.
She jabbed her finger. “He’s lying. Look at him. You can see it in his face.”
The tawnt gestured to Laura. “Come with me.”
“But the children,” she said weakly.
“Will be fine. This is not open to debate.”
With no choice, Laura followed her. She knew better than to explain as they threaded the halls leaving the nursery. Out in the recreation green space, the baby nannies walked their charges. Why couldn’t Laura get a cushy task working in the youngest wards?
They didn’t go toward the dormitory, nor the stocks for a whipping, but instead quick-marched to the gate. Overhead, the dome rippled. A thing made of flexible panels but not completely invulnerable. Strong storms could penetrate it, but those kinds of weather conditions didn’t happen too often anymore.
The guards at the gates wore body armor head to toe, the visors reflective and hiding any details of the person inside. If there was a person. They seemed rather inhuman. Good thing she didn’t deal with them often.
The tawnt swept her past those armored guards, and they stepped onto a moving sidewalk where it became quickly obvious that she was the only sawr outside the wall. Judging by the clothes, there was only a handful tawnts and ptmerrs riding the sidewalks. More guards, too. Kind of eerie how they towered over everyone.
She couldn’t help but take in the sights. She’d not been outside the wall since her arrival. Only those in trouble ever left.
And never came back.
She tried not to think about that, and yet it proved insidious. The dread creeping through her every nerve. The fear stuttering her heart and making her palms clammy.
How would they punish her? After all, she’d laid hands on a child. They would never believe her story of him attacking with an invisible monster.
Between the sidewalk and their hurried pace, they made it quickly to the massive building that was Merr’s seat of power. They entered a vast antechamber empty of people and even decoration, just a high domed ceiling and the sound of their feet clacking on the floor.
The tawnt yanked her through the grand space to a set of doors. Rather than the armor-clad guards Laura was used to seeing, a pair of ptmerrs stood watching, armed with scythes. Long-shafted to grip two-handed if wanted and the blades slightly curved. She’d never seen them used but heard they could slice a person in half.
The one to the left pulled open the door, and they swept into a much smaller room, empty of people.
“Wait here,” said the tawnt.
Laura found herself seated on a plain chair while the tawnt knocked on a thick, yet plain door before entering.
Time stretched, an eternity for her to run through all kinds of possibilities.
A whipping in front of all the sawrs to show what happened to those who disobeyed.
Banishment to the deadly wastelands.
Death.
It never even occurred to her during all her frightful scenarios that they would believe her. Children did not create monsters out of thin air.
When the door eventually opened, Laura couldn’t help a morose expression. She rose, body heavy, step slow. The fine grain of a wood floor underfoot was a rare and expensive thing. Most flooring tended to be of the concrete or rubber variety. It gleamed, not enough to reflect, but it did show its cleanliness.
“Hurry up. I haven’t all day.” The sharp rebuke brought her jerking forward to stop in front of a large desk. More wood, but older. Gray and knotted, the exterior rough. The top of it was smooth, some kind of clear resin coating it.
Laura kept her head bowed and did a short bob. A gesture of respect couldn’t hurt.
“She’s older than expected,” said a gravelly voice.
“A few years shy of thirty, Merr.”
“Past her bloom, so why now?” A query spoken musingly aloud. “Look at me, sawr.”
Laura’s gaze lifted and met the keen gaze of an older woman. Her skin a light tan, her eyes not quite round. Her jet-black hair stopped at the shoulders and had streaks of gray.
Merr said, “You may leave use, Tawnt Odelle.”
No argument, just quick obedience.
The door shut with a quiet click, and Laura fought not to fidget in front of the stone-eyed stare.
“You are sawr Laura, correct?”
She nodded.
“According to your file, you’ve been here quite a long time. And other than a minor period of adjustment when you arrived, never a complaint before this.”
It didn’t seem to be a question, so Laura didn’t reply but did burn slightly at the “minor” thing. The whipping at the time felt anything but. She’d balked at the tight strictures that bound her upon her arrival. She’d asked questions. Argued. Shown too much spirit and so they broke her. They broke everyone who didn’t toe the line.
“I was told you had an incident with Horatio this morning.”
What had the tawnt told Merr? Should she downplay it or stick to the truth? The truth would make her sound crazy. Yet it wouldn’t be the first time a sawr claimed the children had done something odd. Laura had been one of those who sneered when they tried to tell their tall tales. Those sawrs took a walk and never came back.
The reminder made Laura scramble to find a plausible lie. She opened her mouth—
“I would not suggest lying to me.”
The rebuke brought heat to her cheeks. “Does it really matter? Truth or lie, I will be punished.”
“Making decisions for me?” Merr arched a brow. “How impertinent. You don’t know what I want from you. Although I will start with answers. What happened with Horatio? The truth from your lips, or I’ll rip it from your mind.”
Laura’s mouth opened and shut as she processed the threat. “He conjured some kind of ghost beast and used it to scare the children.” She didn’t add it scared her, too.
“Is that what the Academy teaches these days? They tell you of ghosts?” Merr snorted. “Perhaps they do a disservice by not explaining simple ectoplasmic manipulation via psionic energy.”
Laura blinked at all the unfamiliar words. “I’m sorry, Merr. I don’t understand.”
“Meaning what you saw was not a magical spirit being controlled by Horatio but the shaping of energy into a mirage.”
Laura gaped as Merr confirmed what Horatio had done. “He made a monster.”
“Only the image of one. The rest of it was bluff.”
“I beg to differ,” Laura huffed. “It hurt.”
“Hurt how? Did it touch you?”
“No. Not exactly. Mo
re as if it tried to crack into my mind.”
“Tell me more.” Merr leaned forward.
“It was like this thing, this creature, was trying to get inside my head. And it hurt.” The phantom pain of it was not easy to forget.
“You seem fine.”
“Because it attacked me in here.” She tapped her temple.
“And you fought it off?”
She nodded.
“How?”
Her shoulders lifted. “I don’t know. One minute, Horatio was making us all scream, and the next, the pain was gone and he landed on his butt. Perhaps falling broke his concentration.”
“You shoved him.”
Laura shook her head. “I didn’t touch him.”
“Not entirely true.” Merr touched her desk, and an image appeared over it.
Laura’s mouth rounded as her encounter with Horatio played out in front of her, the beast not as fearsome this time. The encounter didn’t take long. Merr rewound it and paused it to the moment where Laura grabbed Horatio by the arms.
“You shook the child.”
“He was scaring—"
“I don’t care what he was doing. You laid hands on and shook Horatio.”
“Not very hard.”
“Yet hard enough you obviously triggered him.”
It took her only a second to realize. “You’re blaming me for what happened.”
“You obviously set Horatio off.”
“Because he was being bad.”
“Hardly bad. Merely experimenting with his abilities. But that’s neither here nor there. I’m more interested in the fact you fought him off. How did you do it?” The hard gleam in her eyes demanded an answer.
“I don’t know what you mean. You saw the video. He fell on his own.”
“Because you shoved him. Before that, he was attacking your mind. You fought him off. How? Did you use a large door that you slammed shut? Maybe a moat or a wall?”
“Wall,” she murmured. “How did you—"
