by Jess C Scott
Nin registered the name, Trevor. It was the night shift’s head guard himself.
“What’s in there, anyway?”
Another soft ‘thunk,’ and the sound of some coins being emptied out of a wallet onto the tabletop. Nin thought it was pathetic, if they were casting bets on who could shoot the highest number of paper balls into the basket. Perhaps the day shift was less boring than the night shift.
“Bunch of items from one hundred years ago.”
“Older than Gilbreth?”
“Oh yeah, way older.”
There was a round of raucous laughter, before one of the chairs screeched across the floor. Nin kept close to the wall. He thought he made out three different voices.
“Seen his latest missus?”
“Kelly?”
“Yeah. Freak in bed, so I’ve heard.”
“She knows I wanna bone her.”
“She’s like, what, nineteen?”
Some of the coins shifted from one side of the table to another. “And Varian’s ninety!”
One of the guards gave a loud tsk. “Gold-digger, I’d say.”
Nin didn’t think he’d get much out of the guards’ gossip session. They didn’t speak of the lockdown, the parchment piece, or Tavia at all.
He made his way, unseen, past several other guards, all of whom said nothing. Dresan simply shook his head, when Nin next ran into him.
Each time Nin looked at Dresan, when they crossed each other’s way at the halfway mark, he felt less and less certain they were going to chance upon anything related to Tavia. They knew it was against the odds, that they’d find Tavia in the building. Still, they held on to a sliver of hope.
Nin and Dresan ended up exiting via the ladder on the top floor, which led up to the rooftop. They timed their movements according to the degree of movement of the security cameras, which they already knew the locations of from previous trips to the Omega unit, and hid against one side of the roof’s partitions.
“No sign of her,” Dresan confirmed, in a dejected tone. He really was hoping they’d manage to find her, or something that would lead them to her. “Did you see or hear anything?”
“Only some gossip.” When Dresan turned to look at him, Nin added, “Some guards were passing their time. Male bonding session.”
“No mention of Tavia?”
Nin shook his head. “Just Kelly—Gilbreth’s…lady.” Nin would have punched the daylights out of the guards if they had been talking about Tavia in the same way as they did about Kelly.
Nin had been wondering about Varian Gilbreth. He was considering breaking into Gilbreth’s house. It might provide some clues as to what the man knew of the Elven race.
Nin’s distress filtered through clear, methodical rationalizing, as he gathered all the details which might add up to something more certain.
He remembered the parchment piece in his wrist device, and brought it out to let Dresan have a look at it. They crouched, staying close to the floor, to remain undetected by any guards on patrol in the outdoor walkways of The Gilbreth Institute.
“Redroot and diamond dust,” Dresan muttered in a low voice. As he read it, a faint shimmer seemed to go over the words he was reading. They looked at each other—the glimmer that had gone over the parchment was not a product of their imagination. “One part moonshine; one part Elvenhumankind.”
He listened, in grave silence, as Nin told him about the pure iron in the sensors of the vault.
“Do you think they’re…in on it?” Dresan asked Nin, in all seriousness.
Nin pulled his brows together. “Who?”
Dresan gestured with his head toward the tree in the compound. “Anya. Leticia.” Dresan paused, not knowing if he should feel bad for doubting them. Maybe the elves had allowed something to slip through the cracks. He added with a tense note in his voice, “Leticia’s boyfriend?”
Nin rubbed the back of his neck, squirming unnervingly for a moment or two. “What about the boyfriend? Who is he?”
“Julius,” Dresan replied, thinking back to an earlier conversation with Leticia. “I only got his first name. He’s a student at their university…I was chatting with Leticia for a bit, before you entered the Omega unit.” He wondered if he should have pressed her for more fine points. It hadn’t occurred to him then. “It just seemed a little…strange.”
“What are you talking about?”
Dresan tried to put a finger on it. “Something wasn’t right with Leticia. There was this sense of her being…somewhere else…like she’d had too much Coca tea…except we didn’t give her any.”
Nin sat back, coolly facing Dresan. Half of him didn’t want to even consider the notion—that Anya and Leticia had something to do with Tavia vanishing, or that they did know something about the missing piece, and had helped an overseer—Gilbreth?—capture a real, live elf.
The other half of Nin loathed admitting that he knew Dresan could be right. Tavia may have been kidnapped, and might be held hostage, unless something even more sinister had befallen her. He tried to banish that thought quickly from his mind.
“Redroot,” Nin repeated the word from the poem, thinking his thoughts aloud. “That’s the root from the tree, Bloodstar.”
“Diamond dust.” Dresan pointed to his crystal pendant. The little particles swirled inside the pendant, when he gave the crystal a light shake. They had always called the ice particles “diamond dust,” without knowing there was anything special to it.
“Moonshine…” Nin held up his own pendant, to the light of the full moon above. “A sliver of a moonbeam.” When he angled the pendant correctly, the moonbeam pierced through the core of the pendant, much like the way a ray of sunlight converged through a magnifying lens, to focus on an intense point where all the light was concentrated. The focal point of midnight, moonlight, and magic, was much brighter and stronger than a common moonbeam.
“Elvenhumankind,” Nin finished. “Someone’s out for our blood.”
He looked once again at the title of the missing piece: ilfirin. It was the Elven word for ‘eternal life.’
Nin pointed to a small circle at the bottom of the illustration. Dresan squinted at the swirl, before making out the design within the circle. He could make out three numbers.
“2, 1, 7,” said Nin, his voice moving to a tone lower. “Gilbreth’s time of birth and password.”
Chapter 13:
Nin and Dresan returned to the train carriage, and decided it was safer to return to The Velvet Underground, where they would have access to a few more materials they had gathered in the past on Varian Gilbreth and his institute. They’d also be further away from the precinct. No one was aware of how many potentially hazardous rooms the entire complex contained, rooms that could be supercharged with pure iron ions that were invisible to the naked eye.
Dresan, Leticia, Nin, and Anya moved in single file, wordlessly, when they passed through the passageway which linked the train system to the elves’ underground abode. To Anya, the tense, chilly atmosphere was asphyxiating. The icy winds of Helli’sandur were tolerable compared to the freezing over of easy interaction amongst trusted friends and teammates.
Nin seemed to be in a cold spell. He was wondering about Leticia, how she’d account for her earlier whereabouts, when she hadn’t been able to join them. Why hadn’t she been around? Did it even matter, to know the reason?
Anya touched the back of Nin’s arm, in a comforting gesture. He seemed to shrink away—“Don’t touch me,” was the message his body language conveyed. His response cut deep, which made Anya realize she had fallen under Nin’s spell harder than she ever intended. He could weave magic with his words, and charm the birds out of the trees with his persuasive, urbane charisma. She was caught in his web. A web not necessarily made up of lies, but which was still going to be difficult to untangle herself away from, if it was at all possible in the first place.
Nin and Dresan hastened to Tavia’s room, where the computers were set up. They looked worri
ed, a look Anya had not seen across their faces before. They switched on all the computers and appeared to be frantically searching for something. Anya guessed they must be looking for potential places to look for Tavia. If they had any clue as to where she might have been taken, they were not giving it away. Anya and Leticia both felt that their presence was no longer needed, or wanted.
“Can we help,” Anya ventured, trying desperately to get Nin to look at her again.
But he only answered coldly without even looking up, “No, we’ll take it from here.” He added, “You’ve done enough.”
Anya could only wonder what he meant by that. Did he suspect them of sabotage? How dare he, she thought to herself, but noting the intensity of the situation, she and Leticia decided it would be best to just leave.
Anya and Leticia shuffled back to the stone church. Anya kicked a pebble on the way back, along the abandoned train tracks, which brought forth a small cloud of dust. She watched the dust disintegrate, as the minute individual grains of sand settled back onto the ground. It paralleled her sentiments on the entire night’s events. Things had gone as planned, only to fall to pieces right at the end, into nothingness.
A spiral staircase in one corner of the stone church led to the rooftop. Anya and Leticia settled there, the same way Nin would go to his special place in Helli’sandur. Anya sat, wrapping her arms around her knees, watching the two a.m. skyline of Zouk City, two miles away in the distance—bright little lights of a city that never truly went to sleep.
“I have this unsettling feeling in my gut,” Anya confided to Leticia. “I don’t know why.” There wasn’t anyone to blame for the misfortune. Not to her knowledge.
Leticia was alone in her own zone, crestfallen, almost. “I’ve got something to tell you, Anya…”
“Hmm?”
“I was going to tell you earlier…” Leticia’s tone was weary, and pained. She closed her eyes, resting her head against one hand that was propped up on her knee. “But you were just about to go…then you and Nin, and Tavia, were already on the way to the compound…”
Anya turned her head towards Leticia, who kept her gaze lowered. “What is it you wanted to say?”
“It’s Julius.” Leticia’s mind was a swirl, as she tried to piece things together. She gazed down at one of her shoes. “I shouldn’t have gone for the rehearsal.”
Anya jabbed Leticia on the arm lightly. “What did he do?” Anya detested it, whenever something or someone caused a dear friend of hers any kind of torment. She made no bones about it.
Leticia held her hands and arms out, as if looking for some tell-tale marks. “I think he drugged me, Anya.”
In a horrible, appalling flash, Anya knew what Leticia was getting at.
“With what? Where? When?” Anya’s anger simmered under her skin. An inner red sun seemed to raise the temperature of her blood. She was riled up someone they personally knew had done something so despicable.
“I thought it was odd,” Leticia continued, in a croak of a whisper. “He said he had something to show me…so during a break, he led me into one of the rooms backstage. It was just the two of us.” Leticia craned her head back. “He brought out an inhaler…I took one whiff…it was something earthy and musky…like wet soil and wood…I think I…passed out. When I came to…I was in the room. Alone.”
Suddenly, Anya remembered the text message she had received from Leticia. “Is that when you sent the message?”
“What message? That I’d get here at eleven forty-five?”
“No, not that one. The one with the question about elves living forever.”
Leticia pushed back some strands of her black hair, which were clinging to the sides of her face and neck. “I never sent that.” Leticia dug her cell phone out when she saw Anya wasn’t buying it. “I didn’t send it! See?”
Leticia showed Anya the items from her ‘sent’ inbox. “Did you reply? I didn’t hear anything from you after I said I’d be here at eleven forty-five.”
“I have it,” Anya scrolled through her inbox. “And my reply”—Anya read the text aloud—’Asked Nin your question—his reply: more than a few centuries…’”
Anya exhaled with a sigh of frustration. “God, Lei…” Anya roughed up her hair. She was close to pulling some of the more brittle strands out. “Couldn’t you have been more careful?”
“I…”
“Julius—he used your phone. He used your phone to contact me, pretending to be you so I’d answer.”
A shade of anguish colored Leticia’s dark eyes. That was quite a conclusion that Anya was jumping to.
“It’s true!” Anya was in a frenzy. “Did he say anything? Anything at all?”
Leticia shook her head. Her heart swung between two points: first on Julius’s side, then on the side of facts and evidence. “Nothing…why would he do that, anyway?”
Anya was more distraught at the ease at which they had been beguiled. “We knew from a long time ago, not to trust anyone!” Anya’s tone was colored with hostility and accusation. “How could you break that rule?”
“How was I supposed to know what he was going to do? And it was you”—Leticia deflected the criticism back to Anya—“you broke that rule first, by talking to Ithilnin in the first place.” Leticia said Nin’s real name with a certain amount of cynical distaste, which Anya resented. Leticia’s view was that Anya treated Nin too well, more than he needed to be. “I mean, what was that whole thing here at the church about? We practically confessed everything to him—everything! What we do, how we earn our money, where we’ve been. He could turn us in and off we’d go to jail. We’d be stuck there till we’re grandmothers…or till we die!”
Anya and Leticia spent a few seconds tuning in to the surrounding vicinity’s symphony of chirping crickets.
“It’s not the same.” It really wasn’t, from Anya’s perspective.
“Is to.”
“Is not.”
“Is to.”
“Is not.” Anya liked having the last word. This time was no exception. “Nin’s not like that—he wouldn’t do that. I knew he wouldn’t, that’s why I trusted him in the first place.”
“And how is that not the same as me trusting Julius?” Leticia questioned. “If I told you I had something to show you, you wouldn’t be suspicious of anything, would you?” Leticia went one step further. “Bet you wouldn’t think twice if Mister I’m-So-Perfect Nin led you into a room.”
Anya scowled at Leticia, but kept her mouth shut. She’d only be fooling herself, if she denied Leticia’s last sentence. Besides, Nin had shown her Helli’sandur…
Anya remembered the gift of Sight. She was keeping it from Leticia, and she didn’t feel great doing so. It felt like a betrayal, almost. Not telling wasn’t the same as outright lying, or was it?
“I meant…” Anya mumbled, “that you should have been more…careful.”
“This is crazy,” Leticia replied with a sigh. “We’ve never fought, not even once.”
Anya shook her head. “We’ve been under intense pressure, over the past…day or two.”
“Friendship—that always meant more than anything. Looks, money, boyfriends...”
Anya shrugged, careful not to slide off the rooftop in her tired, groggy state. “I’m not the one with a false nose.”
Leticia jolted up in defense. “You told!” she gasped, glaring at Anya, with a sharpness in her throat.
“No, I didn’t,” Anya said, in her most convincing voice, as she crossed her fingers beside her hip, hidden away from Leticia’s view. “I’m just sayin’.”
Leticia dangled her legs over the edge of the rooftop, precariously.
“What’s important now,” Anya went on, after taking a few deep breaths, “is for us to tell Nin what you just told me—it might be crucially important in finding Tavia. I just hope we’re not too late.”
Leticia turned to look back in the direction of The Velvet Underground, suddenly feeling very remorseful, worried and angry at hersel
f all at the same time. She spotted Nin pacing slowly at the area beside the tree with the hidden doorway, bringing his head up now and then, like he was listening to the wind.
“You tell him about Julius,” Leticia said to Anya, in a near-monotone. “And tell him I’m really sorry,” she added, almost inaudibly. “I…I can’t face them right now.” She started walking away from Anya, towards the spiral staircase.
“Where’re you going?”
Leticia held up her motorbike key to Anya. “Home. It’s been a long night.”
Anya stayed behind, listening to Leticia’s ever-fading footsteps, and then to the rumble of the bike, as it pulled out of the stone church’s driveway.
Anya brought out her own set of keys too. She gazed at the keychain, a gray teddy bear with the word “Friends” inscribed on its navy blue sweater. Leticia had the other half. When they joined the two bears’ paws together, the two key chains read side-by-side: “Best Friends.”
Nin sat at the edge of the train tracks, his back facing towards Anya. He could hear Anya approach, long before she was aware of it herself. He had overheard bits and pieces of the girls’ conversation, heard them banter about their friendship and Leticia’s “false nose,” when the night breeze blew in his direction. A close affinity with the natural elements was something he liked most about being an elf. He waited to see what Anya would have to say about the one named “Julius.”
“What’re you doing up here?” she asked first.
Nin hid a smile, keeping a deadpan face and tone of voice. “Listening to the wind.”
Anya took a seat beside him, wondering if she’d walk off if he gave her the cold shoulder. “Any news on Tavia?”
Nin shook his head. Just then, Anya realized he was holding the parchment piece in his hand.
“What’s it say?”
“Something very deep,” Nin replied, in a profound manner. “The title’s ilfirin. It’s the Elven word for eternal life.”
Nin read Anya the lines of the poem:
~~~~~
. ilfirin .
