by Rune Skelley
“One of my piercing customers. Sort of a wifty hippie. She was at the library today and asked for a ride. You’d think with a name like Rainbow she’d like the rain… Anyway, I took her home.”
“Did she make a pass at you?” Fin asked.
“Fin!” Willow admonished.
“What?” He shrugged. “Lesbians like her.”
“No,” Rook said. “Well, I guess some do. But that’s not what happened. We went inside this sort of garage workshop. For a second I thought maybe her boyfriend built pirate cable boxes or something, but she started asking me about the jewelry, asking if I knew where it was. And she didn’t sound like a wifty hippie anymore.”
“Oh, shit,” Fin said.
“Yeah,” Rook agreed. “Then her really tall boyfriend walks in wearing a green cardigan.”
“The Sweaterguys!” said Fin.
Beside Willow on the couch, Brad sat up straighter. Willow put her hand on his knee to keep him quiet so Rook could finish her story.
“And with Rainbow’s boyfriend was this short guy with a gray beard, dressed all in black.” Rook paused.
Willow gasped. “Oh no.”
“Rainbow introduced him as Severin.”
“Did he hurt you?” Fin demanded.
“No. He stared at me and shook my hand and I got the hell out of there. His eyes were creepy and so blue.” She shivered and inched closer to the fire.
Willow stood. “Rook, you must never go back there. Ever.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Severin is dangerous. Especially to you.”
“Me?”
“I think he recognized you.” Willow wished she didn’t have to deliver this news.
“What do you mean?”
Willow glanced at Brad and Zen, then at Fin, and finally looked at Rook.
“Severin is your father.”
Rook’s brows tried to converge, but her widening eyes forced them apart.
“I thought it safer if you didn’t know. I was afraid you might want to meet him.”
“My father?” Rook shuddered and pressed against Fin, who enfolded her in his arms.
“I got the story from your mother when she left the Following.”
Rook looked ill. “I don’t want my father to be a kidnapping bastard.”
“It’s no reflection on you,” Brad assured.
“Isn’t Severin your uncle?” Fin asked Willow.
Willow had hoped this part wouldn’t come up. “Yes.”
“But that means…”
“Rook is my cousin,” Willow confirmed.
Rook’s sharp blue eyes, a vibrant echo of her father’s, darted around as if searching for a way out of this situation. She stepped away from Fin.
“But—” She looked down at her belly.
“Everything’s fine,” Fin blurted. “We saw the ultrasound. It’s fine.”
“Remember I told you the Elsewhere created Severin and Gale?” Willow said. “There are no bad genes to pass along.”
“How can you be sure?” Rook asked.
“The bubbles told me,” Willow said. “Not in so many words, but that information is there. Beyond that, though, we have physical proof. I’m healthy. Fin and Zen are healthy. You are healthy. The Elsewhere’s plans might be inscrutable, but it does have them. It made sure its offspring are genetically sound.”
Rook allowed Fin to put his arm around her again. “What about Severin’s hand?”
“What about it?”
“He only has one,” Rook stated like it should be obvious.
Willow’s eyebrows drew together and she looked to Brad. “The last time I saw him he had two hands.”
“Same here,” Brad said. “Maybe Gale did something to him. They had quite a battle. Green lightning flying around.”
“That’s reassuring,” scoffed Rook. “Everybody in the family tree has the right number of hands, but they’re also evil and have magic powers!”
“We’re not all evil,” Fin reassured.
“Some of us like to see ourselves as somewhat heroic,” Brad added with a smile. “You and Fin will be great parents and your child will be perfectly ordinary. And I mean ‘ordinary’ in the best possible sense. Now who’s ready for meatloaf?”
“Ba!”
*** *** ***
Severin returned to the attic immediately.
The lovely visitor in the workshop was his kin, he felt it the instant he saw her. The daughter he’d sired with Cloud. He hadn’t thought of his offspring since first learning of its inconvenient presence in his lover’s abdomen.
Severin glanced at Melissa slumbering in the hammock. They’d devoted much of the afternoon to physical gratification, most of it revolving around his stump, and she was spent in direct contrast to Severin’s invigoration. He’d kept control this time, and pushed things as hard as he could.
No matter how much vitality his niece’s loins held he was unable to use her as anything but the crudest conduit to the Elsewhere. Given enough sessions he would succeed in regrowing his lost hand, but her ‘elsewhere’ never yielded objects for interpretation, nor answers to his queries. She was no substitute for his table. In addition, Melissa had grown quite devious and strong. She was dangerous, and Severin was running out of time to remove the threat.
Severin shook his head and brushed his fingers across the sheet, chastising himself. He must stop making excuses for keeping her around. Melissa would kill him eventually, or he would be forced to kill her.
If he could replace her with someone else, he had to seize the chance.
But first came confirmation of the girl’s identity, which meant using the table right-handed. He drew a slow, deep breath and let it out. His batteries were well charged, and he held a clear question in his mind. The table would cooperate.
Ducking his truncated left arm under a corner of the sheet, Severin lifted it so his right hand could probe for answers.
His confidence was rewarded, as his fingers closed around a slender, nearly weightless object. Even before drawing it out, Severin knew it would be a gleaming black feather, and that he had indeed just been introduced to his daughter.
Rook.
Severin smiled his approval. Everything about the young woman was perfect. Being family, her reserves of mystical energy would be boundless. Being young, all the more so, and she would be far easier to control than Melissa.
*** *** ***
Fin drove them home, less out of gallantry than concern that Rook was too preoccupied to operate the vehicle safely. Where he usually felt her comforting mental hum he now felt tension. They reached the house without talking.
Rook sat on the sofa, and as he joined her Fin expected her to curl up into a ball or lean on him. Instead she leaned forward, poised for action and staring into the distance.
“Listen,” Fin began, the tension too much to bear, “you don’t have to worry about the baby. I mean, closer cousins than us have perfectly healthy kids, and like Mom said, this family is a kind of special case. It’ll be okay, I promise.”
Rook gave him a tired smile and patted his knee, which made him feel foolish.
“Thank you,” she added, “but Thumper’s not what has me worried. I don’t know if there’s any sane reason to expect it to be fine, but I know it will be. We will be.”
“Then what’s wrong?” Fin asked, somehow more worried than before.
“The jewelry.”
Fin took her hands in his, and shook his head. “Cookie, let someone else deal with it.”
Rook shook her head, too. “I was part of the problem. I can’t let it just exist out there in the world. It’s dangerous. And I’m responsible.”
“No, you’re not. You’re really not.”
Rook looked at her boots.
“You don’t owe anybody anything,” Fin assured her.
“I know,” Rook said in a tiny voice, still looking down.
Fin lifted her chin and tried to look into her eyes, but she kept her gaze
averted. He felt tears threatening, although Rook’s features remained composed. He swallowed, and she finally met his eyes. She looked sorry but resolute.
“Why?” Fin asked. Why does it have to be you? Just because the Sweaterguys thought Rook had information didn’t obligate her to anything.
Rook shrugged. Fin clenched his jaw and blinked to clear his sight. Was that the only answer he was going to get?
“I have to do this,” she said, “have to help destroy it. Severin can’t be allowed to have access to it, and Rainbow can’t stop him.” Fin shook his head, but Rook continued. “When Kyle took over, you knew you had to stop him. You didn’t let me talk you out of it.”
Fin dropped his gaze. He tried to say that was different, but the words wouldn’t cooperate. Tears ran down his cheeks.
“I would like to ask you to help,” Rook said, and Fin’s tears ran faster. She threw her arms around him. Fin held her tight.
“We have to be careful,” Fin said eventually. Rook gave him a long squeeze. Fin sniffed and sat up straight.
Rook nodded, saying, “We can’t go rushing in.”
“Damn right. Let the Sweaters do the heavy lifting this time.”
Rook smiled. “Okay, that’s the plan. But I have to give them something to get them started.”
“They asked for the location, right?”
“Yup. Unfortunately, I know less than they do.”
Fin had a flash of inspiration. “The aliens know all kinds of useful things. Let me see what I can get out of them.”
“Great idea. They’ll be so happy to hear from you after all this time, they’ll tell you anything.”
He eased back on the couch and put out a call on the space spiders’ channel.
“Hey, fellas. You still out there?”
It is always a pleasure to converse with you.
“Bullshit, but it’s nice of you to say.”
What prompts this exchange?
“I need a small favor.”
Our curiosity is aroused. Please elaborate.
“It’s just a quick question. Where is the jewelry, right now?”
You refer, presumably, to the microtransceivers with which some humans adorned themselves?
“Presumably. I need to know where the main pile of it is.”
As you speculated, we can provide this information quite easily. However, its value arises not from the effort it requires, but rather from how badly it is needed. It must be a matter of considerable importance, or else you would not have asked us.
“It is, and I don’t have time for games.”
We won’t waste your time, then, but explain the terms directly.
“Terms? You scuttling bastards have a lot of nerve.”
There’s not much point debating about that. In return for the answer to your question, we require your commitment to help us gain control of the human collective mind.
“You have got to be kidding me! I don’t think I can make myself any clearer on that topic.”
Did you expect us to abandon the idea? Is it any less reasonable for us to expect you to open your mind to our vision?
“Look, you said your whole take-over-the-collective thing was supposed to help my species, right? I think the plan’s for shit, but your goal is noble.”
We never got as far as discussing details of a plan. But yes, our aim is to help your people.
“This jewelry is a big problem for my people, and you can help by giving us its location. Prove to me you’re on the level, and maybe we can have some deep discussions about the best way to help humanity.”
In our estimation the location of the microtransceivers is of almost no consequence to the welfare of humanity, but this information represents our only leverage. We can’t part with it casually.
“We’re negotiating here. I’m counter-offering.”
Your offer is to commit to ‘deep discussion’?
“Isn’t that a step in the right direction?”
You must commit to something substantive. Discussion, however deep, is inadequate.
“At least I’d be talking to you. Take it or leave it.”
It will be interesting to see whether you are resourceful enough to locate the devices on your own. If not, you can always speak with us again.
“You’re telling me to fuck off?”
That wouldn’t be very original. We’re simply declining to do business at this time.
Fin rubbed his temples and opened his eyes.
Rook said, “You don’t look like somebody who just talked a bunch of extraterrestrial arachnids into revealing the location of illicit technological marvels.”
He smiled ruefully. “Some idiot taught them to play hardball.”
Rook smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “I guess that means we’re stuck.”
“Hey, we’ll think of something. Tomorrow. Let’s sleep on it.”
Rook’s brow showed momentary doubt, but she nodded. “You’re right. That jewelry’s been out there for a long time. What’s one more night?”
*** *** ***
Rook lay beside her husband, both of them breathing slowly and deeply, monitored by the alien spiders.
Her mind loitered at the edge of alertness, drifting toward sleep. She was thinking about the jewelry.
Her grip on consciousness relaxed, and her mind entered an early stage of sleep. The aliens waited for her to reach REM stage before conveying their message.
She dreamed of a typical day at Talisman Tattoo. Someone shouted her name, disturbing her nap on the parlor’s green velour sofa.
Rook sat up and rubbed her eyes to discover Fin standing before her.
“I suppose you’re here for a piercing.”
Fin smiled and said nothing.
“Come on, then.” Rook led him to the back room. Fin sat on the table. Rook donned her gloves and searched for the hoop to insert into his eyebrow. She was anxious to get this part over with so they could get to the kissing.
All of her inventory was gone.
Kyle smirked in the corner, wearing a familiar green cardigan.
Rook ransacked the place, shooting occasional dirty looks at Kyle, who remained smug. When she’d torn open every drawer and dumped out every box, she faced him, hands on hips.
“You have it, don’t you?”
Kyle shrugged, and his grin enlarged maddeningly.
On the table Fin checked his watch. If she didn’t pierce his eyebrow soon he would leave and they wouldn’t live happily ever after.
Panicking she turned back to Kyle. “You know where it is, I know you do.”
Kyle nodded, still smiling. He strode from the piercing room, and Rook followed right behind him. When she reached the outer room, no one was there.
Rook tried to look for Kyle, but she was too tired. She stretched out on the sofa to rest.
The spiders ran the same dream through her subconscious over and over all night. Kyle knew where the jewelry was, and finding it was key to Rook’s future with Fin.
By morning the message was deeply rooted. They hoped it wouldn’t take her long to act.
*** *** ***
Rook slipped off both go-go boots and wiggled her toes in the spring air. Yesterday’s rain had passed and today was sunny and cool. Everything was budding, granting the trees and bushes pale green halos.
Having spent the morning in the perpetually murky depths of the stacks, Rook happily agreed when Lara suggested they eat lunch in the courtyard. Dimness and solitude had eroded the optimism she’d woken with. It left her brooding about the jewelry, her father, and, of all people, Kyle.
The sun on her bare shoulders and legs, and arguing musical tastes with Lara, afforded a welcome distraction from her obsessions. While savoring the last bite of a Snickers, Rook slid an errant spaghetti strap back into place. Another dress she wouldn’t be able to wear much longer. The blue and purple satin concoction used to hang from the straps and flutter around flirtily, but now her expanded bust barely fit into it. T
he empire waist provided room for Thumper, but if she got any rounder it would raise the hemline to obscene proportions. Rook sighed and peeled a banana.
Lara stood and crushed her cigarette as she drained the last swig from her can of Red Bull. “Well, I gotta get back in there.”
Rook swallowed a mouthful of banana and said, “Have fun.”
“Nothing but.”
Rook pulled her boots on. She should get back to work herself, but dreaded it. Alone for these few seconds and her mind already returned to plotting micro-technology jewelry destruction.
If the government had it, she would need to accept there was nothing she could do. But if there was a stash of the stuff she could disable or destroy, she had to do it.
Kyle is the last known owner of the devices.
Either he sold them or he hid them in the Ministries compound. Having spent two weeks there with him, Rook thought she should have some idea where. She could rule out the penthouse, but nothing else.
Some investigative reporter I turned out to be.
The location of the jewelry was locked inside Kyle’s comatose skull.
And I have a key.
Since evicting the twin princesses, Rook had been untroubled by dreams of Kyle, and once she and Fin committed to having Thumper she’d scarcely given him a thought.
Until today.
Today he popped up whenever she contemplated the jewelry. The mental connection she shared with him would allow her to access his knowledge. She just had to be near him. It would be like doing research in a very unusual library.
Rook’s stomach knotted.
He was in a coma. He couldn’t hurt her. All she had to do was slip into his mind and find the information she needed to buy herself some absolution.
Rook gathered the remainder of her lunch and stuffed it into the garbage can. She went to the sorting room to collect the next cart of books to be shelved.
Her supervisor looked worried. He had been overly solicitous ever since learning of her pregnancy, always trying to talk her into switching to the circulation desk so she could work sitting down.
“Rook, you don’t look so good.”
“I think my lunch didn’t agree with me, Darryl.” Today might be a good day to take that job at the desk. Let the public distract her at the same time it annoyed the hell out of her.
