by Natale Ghent
The leader raised his hand. “This is it,” he said. “We have proper facilities this time—an outhouse and a stream with running water.” He gave a weak smile. “The stream is behind the cabin. If you wish to wash up, please do so now. Keep it brief and don’t leave anything behind. We want to get inside as soon as possible. There’s food to prepare and watch to keep. I need some volunteers.”
Half a dozen hands were raised. Four people were chosen and the rest dismissed.
Caddy stayed beside Poe as the group walked to the stream. They wound down a rock-studded slope, stepping over the polished bones of tree roots. At the river, the men drifted off on their own, moving toward a cluster of smooth grey stones that reclined like seals at the base of a low waterfall. Poe leaned toward her.
“Stay with the women and watch the trees for movement,” he said.
Caddy followed the women farther downstream. They searched for a quiet pool and found one in a wide curve of the river. It looked so deceptively peaceful, she could almost convince herself that nothing was wrong. The women mutely shed their clothes, as though it were the most natural thing to do. Caddy peeked shyly at their naked bodies. They were as varied as the coloured pebbles in the stream. Yet each one bore the mark on their arm, even the girl who had helped her. They stepped into the pool, undergarments in hand, and sank up to their necks. Dunking their heads, they scrubbed their hair. Some pulled water methodically up their arms and over their shoulders. No one talked.
Removing her jacket, Caddy folded it neatly and placed it on the riverbank. She did the same with her shirt and pants. Everything else she left on—her bra, her underwear, even her sneakers and socks, because she wanted to wash the dirt and blood from her shoes. Folding her arms across her chest, she slipped into the water. The cold energized her skin. She navigated over the slippery stones to a flat spot. When she was in over her hips, she inhaled and dunked below the surface. The river burbled in her ears. The water felt so good, she wanted to stay under forever. Bobbing up for air, Caddy blinked the stream from her eyes and worked off her undergarments. She scrubbed them together and pulled them back on, floating lightly on her toes. Next, she rubbed her sneakers with a handful of small stones until they were clean—as clean as she could get them. No matter how hard she scrubbed, the blood left a faint stain on the fabric.
The women eventually emerged from the water and Caddy did the same. When everyone was dressed, they walked together up the slope. Caddy trailed behind the girl, sneakers squeaking with wet, hoping to speak to her. The right opportunity never presented itself because the women remained silent, so she did too.
Inside the cabin, the smell of fried onions and bread dough tugged at Caddy’s appetite. The men were already there, sitting on the floor. The girl took a seat between two older women. Poe was reclining against the wall on the far side of the room. There was no space beside him so Caddy took a spot on the edge of the group.
The cabin was dark, the one small window providing little light for the cooks to prepare food. They worked, stacking strips of fried bread into a small teepee on a wooden board. A woman offered them around the room along with a pitcher of water and a single glass. No one took more than one piece of bread, Caddy noticed, though they must have been as hungry she was. When the bread came her way, she did the same, taking only one piece. The woman beside her took two and gave the second to her. The last thing Caddy wanted was preferential treatment. She accepted the bread out of politeness and looked around to see if anyone had noticed what the woman had done. They were all focused on the bread in their own hands. She felt too guilty to eat two pieces, so she pushed one into her jacket pocket for later.
After the bread, the group relaxed. Small circles were formed with people speaking in soft voices. Caddy looked at Poe. He was resting against the cabin wall, his eyes closed, the diffuse light from the window highlighting his cheekbones. He covered his face with his hands and shuddered, and Caddy realized he was crying. She wanted to go to him, to comfort him and tell him it wasn’t his fault—no matter what he thought—he wasn’t responsible for Meg’s death. As if reading her mind, he dropped his hands to his sides and his eyes locked on hers. The door to the cabin opened and everyone turned. It was Hex and Red.
KENJI AND CO.
Skylark glided alongside Kenji. He walked, one foot after the other, like a human. It looked so fun.
“Do you always move with your feet?” she asked. She was still feeling the effects of the blue drink from the bar.
“Yeah, most of the time. Why?”
“I don’t know. I just thought everyone glided or jumped around here.”
“I jump,” he said. “And sometimes I even glide. But I like walking. That’s what legs are for. Besides, I don’t want to attract any unnecessary attention.”
“What do you mean?”
“People don’t glide on earth. Whenever I’m there, I walk so I don’t stand out any more than I already do.”
“Do you go there often?” Skylark asked, trying to contain her excitement. If she were a Guide, she’d never leave the earth behind. “Often enough.”
She stopped, looked at her feet, then looked at Kenji. “I don’t think I know how to walk anymore.”
“It’s easy. Watch me.” Kenji took several steps, turned like a runway model, and walked back.
Skylark took a tentative step, wobbled dangerously, straightened herself and stopped. She was as graceful as a store mannequin come to life.
“Try again,” he said.
Lifting her chin she slowly stepped forward, placing one foot in front of the other like a geisha. “Hey … I think I’m doing it …” She flashed a huge smile just before she tipped, her arms flying up to regain her balance. When she did this, her robe popped up in place of her clothes and reverted again.
Kenji smirked. “What was that?”
“What?” she tried to deflect.
“Your clothes. What happened there?”
“Oh … uh … sometimes that happens when I try something new … It’s nothing, really.” That didn’t sound very convincing, even to herself.
“Do it again.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s a neat trick.”
Was he making fun of her? He smiled back.
“Okay, fine,” she said. Closing her eyes, she loosened her particles and slipped back to her robe state.
He clapped his hands. “Very cool.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Seriously. I’m impressed. My friends are going to love you. Now, try walking again.”
Skylark reverted to her street clothes and walked, slow and deliberate. Staring at her feet, she took fifteen steps, attempted a turn, made it and walked back to Kenji. “Was that good?”
“Yeah. Now do it without looking at your feet.”
Skylark squared her shoulders. Fixing her eyes on the building in front of her, she took ten steps, turned, focused on Kenji and walked back, a big smile on her face.
“Perfect,” he said. “You’re a pro.”
“Hey, don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Honestly. I think you’re amazing. Truly.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
No one had called her amazing in a very long time, certainly not since she’d arrived here. It felt so good. Kenji was nice. Hanging out with him was fun. She hoped his friends were as enjoyable.
They continued toward their destination, Skylark biting her lip with concentration, hands held out at her sides as she walked unsteadily beside Kenji. Every once in a while she’d pitch, exclaim under her breath and right herself. She didn’t give a thought to where they were going or who they would meet.
“Walking takes a lot of effort,” she said.
He laughed. “Even more when you’ve got training wheels.”
“Are we almost there?” she asked.
He pointed to a modest red-brick building. “This is
HQ.” He opened the door for her, grabbing her hand as she tripped over the threshold.
Skylark looked around. It didn’t belong with the rest of the city. It was dusty and old and cluttered with stuff—books, piles of papers, a worn couch. “Your friends live here?”
He ushered her toward an office, jangled the door open and towed her in by one hand. Behind a worn wooden desk, an old cowboy reclined, eyes closed, hands clasped across his chest, black cowboy boots crossed at the ankles on the desktop. He wore a big white hat, white T-shirt and blue jeans, his grey beard quivering as he muttered to himself. Skylark wanted to laugh when she saw him, he looked so comical.
Kenji let the door bang shut. The old man started awake with a grunt, jackknifed in his chair and crashed his boots to the floor. “Kenji, you big—” He cut himself short when his blue eyes landed on her.
Kenji grinned, presenting her like a trophy. “Francis, I’d like you to meet Skylark.”
The old man dropped his jaw, speechless. He cupped his beard, looking at Kenji for confirmation. Kenji nodded.
Skylark felt suddenly shy. What was going on here?
“Go ahead, Skylark,” Kenji said. “Say hi to Francis.”
She waved and smiled. “Hi. You’ve got really blue eyes.”
Francis smacked his hand on the desk, sending papers flapping into the air. “Unbelievable!”
“I found her at the bar,” Kenji gloated. “She just learned how to walk.”
The old man pushed away from his desk and cowboyed over to her, the heels of his boots clomping loudly over the wooden floor. “Say something else, sweetheart.”
She looked at Kenji, who smiled encouragingly.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “Are you a Guide too?”
Francis guffawed and shook his head. “What’d you tell her, hotshot?”
Kenji shrugged good-naturedly and slouched into an old red easy chair. He folded his hands lightly in front of him, one foot jiggling. She stood, monkey in the middle, looking back and forth between the two men.
“Okay, Skylark,” Kenji said. “Show him your true colours.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do that thing you showed me on the way over.”
“Walking?”
“No—that other thing—with your clothes.”
She hesitated. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go showing her true colours to strangers. But here was Kenji, nodding her on. And they both seemed so interested in her. It was nice to have the attention. She closed her eyes and concentrated, and her real form took shape. She held herself there, letting her robe wave around her for full effect before returning to her street clothes.
Kenji tilted his head at Francis. “Neat trick, huh?”
The old cowboy raised his eyebrows. “Does Timon know?”
“Nope. I wanted you to see first.”
Francis took her by the hand and spoke as though addressing a three-year-old. She couldn’t help smiling at the way his beard waggled when he talked, he was leaning so close.
“We’re going to go see another friend of ours who would love to meet you. We can jump together. Are you game?”
It had to be better than moping around in her room. “Sure.”
“Shouldn’t you call first?” Kenji said. “You know how the old codger hates it when we arrive unannounced.”
Old codger? Skylark tried to hide her disappointment. She was hoping Timon was young.
Francis brushed Kenji off. “This is too important. Skylark and I will meet you there—don’t get sidetracked. Skylark, you’re going to hold my hand and let your mind go completely blank. Can you do that?”
“I think so.”
“Good.”
It was actually a relief to let someone else do the jumping for a change—especially with her track record. Skylark took Francis’s hand. With a bright clap, they vanished. Seconds later, they were standing in an ornately decorated Victorian-era room, books lining the walls, fire roaring, stately wingback chairs strategically placed to allow for the most heat. It was a nice place. Much nicer than Francis and Kenji’s. And she hadn’t reverted back to her robe state when they jumped. Probably because Francis had done the driving—she’d hardly needed to use any energy at all. Certainly not enough to make her return to her etheric form. In any case, she was feeling quite pleased about it all until an irritated voice addressed them.
“You know how I dislike it when you arrive unannounced,” one of the wingback chairs said. It had a heavy English accent.
Francis took a step toward the fire, her hand still clasped in his. “I’m sorry, Timon. But I think you’ll be interested in seeing this.”
A ribbon of smoke curled above the chair, followed by several languid puffs. “Well … what is it?”
Francis lead Skylark over to the chair. She was anxious, wanting to make a good impression, except that the toe of her boot caught on the edge of the carpet and she nearly tumbled headlong into the fire. Kenji materialized at that very moment, caught her, and helped her up.
“You should have let me bring her,” he said, giving Skylark a wink.
She smiled, brushed the hair from her eyes and found herself in front of a man in his late sixties. He was clean-shaven, with a thick head of bronze hair and two great hairy caterpillars over his blue eyes. He wore a rumpled brown tweed jacket with a matching vest and pants, and brown leather loafers with crepe soles. A pipe hung from his mouth as though it had grown there. He peered disparagingly at Skylark through a cloud of smoke.
“Kenji found her,” Francis started right in.
Timon clenched his teeth on the stem of his pipe. “At the bar, no doubt.”
Kenji ignored the comment, addressing Skylark instead. “Show him your little trick.”
She was starting to feel like a trained seal. Still, the attention was delightful. She closed her eyes and concentrated, the way she had before. Her robe and true form appeared for a moment, then slid away again as her human form reappeared. She opened her eyes. Francis looked hopefully at Timon, who puffed on his pipe, then plucked it from his mouth and sighed, clearly unimpressed.
“A parlour trick, easily learned. We’ve seen this kind of aberration in Spectrals before.”
“Only fleetingly,” Francis said. “Skylark’s the real deal. Look at her EP.”
Timon pointed the stem of his pipe below one eye. “There’s nothing wrong with my vision, Francis.” But he allowed his gaze to slowly drift over Skylark all the same.
Francis grew impatient. “Tell me you see it.”
Timon stuffed his pipe back in his mouth and nodded begrudgingly.
“It’s strong, isn’t it?” Francis said. “Stronger than we’ve ever seen before.”
Timon snatched the pipe from his mouth again and pointed it at her as though she were a piece of furniture. “What’s going on there … with her arm?”
“It’s not my fault,” Skylark blurted out. “I was transformed this way.”
Timon paused, lips open with surprise. He turned to Kenji. “A mouth-talker too?”
Kenji nodded.
Timon turned back to Francis. “Is she capable of telepathic communication?”
Francis looked at Kenji. Kenji looked at Skylark.
“I’m getting better,” she said. For some reason she really wanted them to like her, though she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because they were the closest thing to human she’d met since arriving. And they seemed so excited to have found her …
“What about weapons training?” Timon asked.
Skylark took a step toward his chair. “I’ve done a lot of marching … None of the swords would have me … I really just got here.”
Francis raised his hands. “Did you hear that?” he said cheerfully. “None of the swords would have her.”
Obviously, he thought that was a good thing. Skylark hoped Timon would think so too.
“Yes, yes,” he said, dismissing Francis with a wave of his pipe. “Does she know what we do here?
”
Francis and Kenji answered simultaneously. “No.”
“What about her Frequency? Do they know she’s here?”
Kenji and Francis looked at Skylark. She shook her head.
“My totem doesn’t even know,” she said.
Timon tapped the stem of his pipe against his teeth. “Figure it out and get back to me. And for heaven’s sake, let the girl know what she’s getting into.”
Francis saluted. He took Skylark’s hand and prepared to jump.
“And Francis …” Timon interrupted them. “This isn’t anything close to a pass. We need to know more before she becomes a full-fledged member.”
“Of course,” he said. And before Timon could say anything more, Francis and Skylark snapped from the room. They landed in the office with a neat pop, Kenji arriving on their heels. Francis ushered Skylark to a paper-littered seat, brushed the papers to the floor, plopped her down and pulled up a chair beside her. Kenji chose to prop himself against the wall, arms folded. Francis gave him a look.
“Why don’t you have a seat, Ken, you’re making her nervous.”
“I’m okay,” she said.
Kenji sneered. “Just get on with it, old man.”
Francis grew thoughtful. “What we do here … it’s—”
“Very dangerous work,” Kenji interjected.
Francis scowled at him. “It’s top secret. Nobody really knows what we do here. It’s for safety reasons.”
“We hunt bad guys,” Kenji said.
“One bad guy,” Francis corrected him. “We’ve been chasing one very bad guy for a very long time.”
“Centuries,” Kenji said. “… if you consider time relevant.”
“They do on earth,” Francis said.
“Right.”
Francis tipped his hat back. “We’re a dark operations group, working independently from the Legion of Light. We have unique skills, so to speak, a special energetic orientation that sets us apart from the rest. We’re just a bunch of misfits, really. But we can do things and go places others can’t. And we don’t answer to anyone.”
