But only in the pause before my mother’s antique answering machine switched on, playing a message so old I’d memorized it before high school.
“...We’re not at home right now.” Mom’s voice sang out the words like small bells. “...So pleeease leave a message after the tone...BEEP!” She laughed. “Ha ha, just kidding! Here it comes!”
“Dork,” I muttered, out of habit.
The message machine beeped.
TERIAN GAZED IN fascination at the metallic box on the tile counter.
He hadn’t known such machines still existed. It was like looking at an old linotype machine, or a working trebuchet and its pile of stones, waiting to be flung over a castle wall. The phone stopped its high-pitched trill and shuddered to life. Silence wafted after the initial message, but from the static, Terian knew it hadn’t finished.
“...Ha ha, just kidding! Here it comes...”
The machine let out a loud, atonal bleep.
Terian’s new body, still unfamiliar in passing glimpses on reflective surfaces, tensed in excitement. After all, he knew who wasn’t calling. The Seven as well as the Org watched the house and its single occupant, so they might even know he was inside by now, but Terian didn’t mind that, either.
He wanted Dehgoies to know exactly where he was.
The background sound of children’s voices rose, and he glanced at the television monitor. Small faces pressed close to the likely-illegal camera, laughing and screaming in delight as that cheerful tune began to sing-song out of bow-shaped lips smeared with white and blue frosting.
“Happy biiiiirthday to you! Happy biiiirthday to you! Happy biiiirthday, dear Al—”
“Mom?” A voice emerged, panicked but low. “Mom, are you there? Pick up! Please pick up! I don’t have much time!”
Terian blinked. Voices came to him in this body sometimes. They sang to him, like the children in the metal box...but this voice sounded real.
Could it be real?
A little girl ran into the room even as Terian thought it, this one neither trapped behind glass nor a hallucination. Paint covered her small hands, and matted her dark hair in clumps. Her bare feet poked out from under a tattered purple dress, scratched and stained from play. A stuffed white rabbit dangled from her sticky fingers, and red had bled into the velvet fur.
Terian waved at her to be silent as he pointed at the machine.
“Mom?” the voice from the machine said.
The girl froze, staring at the box on the counter.
Excitement slid through Terian’s skin, a liquid heat, shared between himself and the girl. He wasn’t hallucinating the voice. She was right there, on the other side of the line. He could simply lift the receiver, speak with her...
“Mom! Please...pick up!”
A symphony lived in that voice. Physical imprints could be so endlessly fascinating, like motes of dust, each containing a singular world. Terian winked at the little girl, who took another step towards the machine.
He held up a hand, warning her.
“Crap,” the voice said dully. “Of all the times for you to actually be out of your cave.” Another silence came and went. “Mom, listen. I can’t tell you where I am. I’m not dead or in a ditch. And I’m not a freaking terrorist, okay? I’m with a friend. He’s helping me figure things out...”
Terian’s smile widened.
“...I’ll be home as soon as I can. Tell Jon and Cass...well, tell them I’m okay. And I miss them. I love you, Mom. Tell them that, too.”
Terian grinned, hearing the ups and downs in her voice as her moods shifted from reassurance to fear and back again. She’d called to reassure her mother, but she’d also hoped to reassure herself. Terian chuckled again.
Dehgoies didn’t know where she was, he was sure of it. Perhaps by now she’d learned more effective means of distracting him, too.
From the wall, a moan redirected both Terians’ focus.
Red lines and small handprints snaked across sun-faded wallpaper, running in places, like rusting metal. Whenever two of Terian’s bodies shared physical proximity they tended to share traits. The doc had said this personality configuration would be creative, and she hadn’t been wrong. At the foot of the same wall, another groan grew audible, meeting the voice still coming out of the answering machine.
“...and Mom?” The voice hesitated. “Don’t let any strangers in the house, okay?”
The little girl giggled. The stuffed white bunny bounced against her chest.
“...There are some people after me, and...well, it would be better if you could just go to Grandma’s for awhile. Or Aunt Carol’s. Please? Just do what I—”
There was a click. The voice abruptly cut off.
Raising his eyebrows, Terian looked at the little girl. Seeing the blank look in her eyes, he smiled.
“Are you finished?” he asked her kindly.
She held up her hands, pinning the bunny to her chest with one short arm. He understood her without words.
“No more paint?” he said sympathetically.
She shook her head, bouncing her dark curls.
Terian clucked his tongue, rising easily to his feet. Following her back into the other room, he lifted a paint brush from the edge of the television stand, using his fingers to wipe away stray hairs. He handed it to the little girl.
“...Let’s see what we can do about that,” he murmured.
Squatting fluidly, he examined the woman. No sound came from the area by his feet, but a single eye stared up, almost childlike in its attentiveness. The woman whimpered as Terian touched her skin. The eye closed, leaving the face featureless under hair and paint.
He checked the belt he’d been using as a tourniquet.
He considered loosening it, then pulled a flip knife from his back pocket instead, scanning options on the marred skin. Both arms had tourniquets already, both legs. The obvious choices had been tapped; to overuse any one would bring an end within heartbeats. He clasped a handful of her hair, speaking to her softly.
She had already given so much.
The little girl fidgeted. “Paint!” she shrieked. “Paint!”
“Relax, dearest,” he murmured.
The woman groaned when he sliced into her scalp. The eye flickered open and she fought to breathe as paint ran past her eyelashes, making her blink and gasp like a panicking child.
“Shhhh,” he said. “Shhh...”
The little girl jumped up and down.
He straightened, watching as she pushed the metal brush into the fresh pool, using one chubby hand to balance on the woman’s forehead and then scraping the brush back and forth on the wall, leaving behind an sweep of broken red lines. Occasionally, she would look back at him, showing him one part of the drawing or another.
“Good,” he said, approvingly. “Yes, very nice work, Melissa...very nice. Looks just like your bunny...yes.”
The little girl beamed back at him, her eyes shining.
I CLUTCHED THE receiver. Something was wrong.
I couldn’t breathe. This pain wasn’t like what I’d felt in Seattle...it wasn’t...
Cold sweat broke out on my skin. A kind of liquid dread made it difficult to breathe...like someone treading in circles over a rotting corpse, crushing maggots...
“...and Mom?” I fought to swallow. “Don't let any strangers in the house, okay? There are some people after me, and...well, it would be better if you could go to Grandma’s for awhile. Or Aunt Carol’s. Please? Just do what I—”
A hand reached in front of my face, depressing the phone’s silver tongue.
I glanced up and back, still holding the receiver.
Revik stood there, his face blank until I saw his eyes.
He motioned with his hand for me to get up. When I hesitated, he caught hold of my elbow, jerking me to my feet. He steered me down the corridor. The horrible feeling didn’t go away; if anything, it got worse, until I no longer cared whether Revik was angry or even if I’d done something...again...that
might get us both killed.
He took me through the glass front doors of the diner and to the street outside. The sun reflected coldly from the windows of high-rise buildings, but it only blinded me, making the sickness worse. I planted my feet when Revik stopped.
Still holding my arm, he pulled out a mobile phone, hit a single key. His message to whoever picked up was brief.
“Yes,” he said. “We’ll need it.”
He clicked the phone shut and threw it at a nearby garbage container, hard enough for the bin to vibrate as the phone rattled against the insides before it came to rest. Jerking me closer by the arm, Revik turned to speak, then stopped, staring directly at my face.
The anger in his eyes faltered.
“What?” he said. “What is it?”
I tried to answer.
“What, Allie?” His voice sharpened, but he didn’t sound angry at me anymore. “What is going on? What’s wrong with you?”
My stomach lurched. I turned away from him, throwing up coffee and part of a danish in a thick sluice on the sidewalk. A family was walking past us, aiming for the diner, and one of the kids gave a sharp cry of disgust.
“Ewww! Mom, that lady’s barfing!”
I heaved again, bent in half. I didn’t think about moving, not even to aim for the potted tree in the cement walk. Revik stood impassively, holding my arm, his eyes sweeping the street. I heaved a third time, gasping. When it started to feel like it might be over, I wiped my lips with the back of a hand.
Revik cleared his throat. “Are you finished?”
“I think so.”
Spitting to get the excess saliva out of my mouth, I plugged my nose with my knuckles when the stench of stomach acid and coffee reached it.
“You need the restroom,” he said. It wasn’t a question. He exhaled. “I’ll wait. But not for long, Allie.”
“I had to call her.”
His voice became a snarl. “So you pick the stupidest way imaginable? You could have asked me!”
“I did ask you! You said no!”
“That was weeks ago! Why here, Allie? Why now?”
“My fucking dad died today, okay?”
He opened his mouth to answer...then his face went blank.
I turned away, pausing on a couple staring at us from where they’d just been about to enter the restaurant. Meeting my gaze, the woman hesitated, clutching her jacket to her throat. Great. Revik and I had just become drunk-domestic-violence couple. I let out a short laugh, still looking into the woman’s wide, concerned eyes.
When I turned, Revik stared at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Allie, you realize that anyone could have picked up?”
“I wasn’t in...” I remembered we were in public. “I wasn’t in that other place—”
“It doesn’t matter! You could lead them straight to her...if they weren’t there already!”
“With my mom?” I shrieked. “That’s great, Revik! You told me you could keep her safe!”
“You think you are helping her?” He stepped closer, dropping his voice to a rough whisper. “I listened to you, Allie...you might as well have told them to use her to get to you.”
He seemed about to say more, then bit it back, adding,
“...And you let your voice be recorded. Do you have any idea what that is, to have a recent recording on a target? For an infiltrator this is like...a present! At the very least, they could trace the call. Every branch of law enforcement has Rooks in it, SCARB more than any other...”
“I wasn’t on long enough for that.”
He stared at me, openly disbelieving, then averted his eyes, forcing his gaze back to the diner. His jaw hardened.
“Should I go in with you?” he said.
I shook my head. “No. I’ll come back. Then you can yell at me all you want.”
He released my arm so suddenly that I lost my balance.
Without looking at him, I pushed my way back through the double glass doors.
Our performance hadn’t gone unnoticed inside the diner either; staff and customers gave me a wide berth as I staggered past the cashier’s desk. I retreated into the restroom. My fingers grasped for the bumpy silver handles and twisted the cold water on full. Because of the prosthetics, I couldn’t stick my face in the sink like I wanted.
I cupped water to my lips instead, washing out my mouth, then dabbing my forehead.
I checked my face in the mirror. It looked the same. It still wasn’t mine.
Revik was waiting when I came out, but on the other side of the door, away from my puke.
“Ready?” His voice remained cold.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to tell me what happened?”
“You heard me. I said I was alive, and with a friend. Nothing they didn’t already know.”
He stared at the cement, hands on his hips.
When I didn’t go on, he turned, walking in the direction of the harbor, passing the parked motorcycle without breaking stride. I followed him at a distance. Straight ahead, glass buildings blocked my view of the water, but I glimpsed a white complex adorned with sail-like tents.
At the next stoplight, I approached his side warily.
“Aren’t we going to the airport?” I said.
“No,” he said. “We’re not taking a plane anymore.” He looked at me. His voice leaked frustration. “Will you tell me? You say no one picked up. You weren’t in the Barrier. So what is this?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you felt something?”
I hesitated, then nodded.
“What?” he said.
I started to answer, but the cold feeling rose, forcing me to take another breath.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I really don’t.”
When I didn’t say anything more, he shoved his hands into his pockets, walking as soon as the light changed. I followed after he’d gone a few steps. Then the feeling surged back for real, and I knew suddenly...I knew.
She was dead. My mom was dead.
Halfway across the street, everything around me grayed. I collapsed before I realized that the problem wasn’t a sudden attack of freak weather.
It was me.
WHEN I OPENED my eyes, cars honked loudly, like alarm clocks going off around my head. I didn’t know where I was. Shadowy people stared down at me with blank faces. I didn’t know any of them.
I heard a voice I knew—
“Allie! ALLIE!”
Revik’s face appeared. His eyes, wide with panic, startled me.
He tried pulling me to my feet, then slid his arms under my knees and shoulders. He held me against his chest, murmured in my ear.
“Stay awake...please, baby. Please. Don’t fall asleep...”
I thought I had to be hallucinating. My voice seemed to come from far away.
“I’m here,” I said. “I’m still here.”
I burst into a sob.
He stared down at me, then around at the gathering crowd.
I still lay in the middle of the street, so he tightened his hold on me and stood up. Pausing to adjust his grip, he began to walk, fast, with long strides. He had me across the street and halfway down the block before he spoke again.
“Can you walk?” he said. “We’re conspicuous.”
I nodded. He stopped to set me on my feet, reaching back to unlock my fingers from his neck. Standing there, I wiped my face, wobbling on my legs.
“We have to go under the complex,” he said, his voice nearly a mutter. “...Look for ‘Llysa’s people.”
His eyes tracked faces.
Some paused to stare at me curiously until they saw Revik and blanched at whatever expression they saw in his face.
“I wish you weren’t so damned conspicuous to humans,” he said, still muttering. “It’s not just...” He glanced at me, coloring. “...Us.” I flinched at the intensity in his voice. He was thinking aloud, filling space, but the emotion felt real. “...Like blood on a white sheet. They notic
e you...then make up a reason why. Even that fucking customs officer. You didn’t just flirt with him. You let him see you...”
He looked at me, his eyes hard.
“You have to stay out of sight on the ship! I mean it, Allie...please. Please do as I say in this. I’m begging you...”
I stared back at him, hearing his accent come out stronger, confused at the expression I saw on his face. Then his actual words reached me.
“Ship,” I repeated dully. “You said ship?”
“Yes.” He watched me wipe my eyes, his accent still stronger than usual. “We need the construct now that you have blown our cover. A plane is not big enough...you need mass for a construct, weight. They take time to set up. Ullysa’s people prepped one as backup.”
I nodded.
He stood there a few seconds more, as if unsure what to do with me. Then he clasped my hand, half-dragging me down the sidewalk that led under the tented complex.
When we stopped at the end of the line for customs, his arm wound around my waist. I didn’t feel any affection in the gesture, though, not even when he held me tightly against him.
ONCE MORE, REVIK found himself at a loss.
They stood at the end of the security line that led into the customs kiosks, and he still didn’t see any sign of Ullysa’s people.
But that wasn’t what threw him...not really.
His senses remained on high alert, his fingers conscious of the gun nestled in a side holster under his jacket. It was a Glock 18, illegal for civilian use even in the United States; just carrying it risked jail time here, but he needed a full automatic for seers. Her hand clutching his was in the way of him reaching it quickly, but for reasons even he didn’t understand, he didn’t let go of her.
Seeing the row of metal detectors, he resigned himself to the fact that he might have to dump the gun, or risk pushing security to get them past. He spotted a trash can in one elbow of the zig-zagging line and decided the former was safer; he was just reluctant to do so until they’d ID’d the security team and he knew for sure he wouldn’t have to make a run for it with her.
The crowd picked up, thickening as they crushed into the main line leading to security and then customs. He glanced down at the Bridge, saw her staring up at the advertisement screens hung over the zig-zagging lines of people. There was a sort of dim confusion in her eyes as she gazed at a row of pictures of wildlife in Alaska. Grief still wavered below that, and it occurred to him again that he had to get her on board, find those guards before she recovered from her shock and lost control of her light for real.
Allie's War Season One Page 20
