Jane stumbled across her room, found some clean clothes that matched—at least, she hoped they did, because she didn't get her eyes completely open even after she washed her face and brushed her teeth—then stumbled downstairs and staggered into the spa.
Penny was in the little kitchen area in the back, where Jane made samples of herbal teas and instant coffee drinks for customers to taste, with apple fritters and cappuccino waiting on the little table just inside the display area. The teen looked none the worse for wear. She managed a nearly normal smile for Jane when she saw her, and settled down on the tall stool used for makeup consultations on the fly.
"How are you feeling?" Jane wasn't about to tell the girl she hadn't needed to come in today. The aromas of fresh-baked fritters and cappuccino made her stomach rumble and melted away that cobwebby, gluey feeling in her head. She wasn't about to discourage Penny from looking after her.
It was nice to have someone looking after her.
Then how come, that quiet voice at the back of her mind asked, you were so prickly when Kurt started to get protective?
There's looking after, and there's smothering and denying me a chance to use my brain, another voice snapped from the front of her brain.
The part of her brain that wanted those fritters and cappuccino but was too proud to whimper or get down on her knees and pay homage to the thoughtful girl who brought them.
"Fine," Penny said. She couldn't possibly know about the war going on in her employer's mind and stomach. "Evan is home, packing up for military school, and his uncle hired some professional shopper with the pull to get into stores after hours. A limousine showed up just as I was leaving the cottage, three big boxes and an apology note on this fancy paper. Gobs of clothes and makeup and other stuff. Totally not me." She rolled her eyes and grinned. "I gave away most of the stuff they gave me. It doesn't matter, I figure, because Evan won't be coming back here, so I won't see his uncle ever again, so he won't know."
"Good for you. Bad taste in clothes?" Jane gave up on her pride, settled down on the other stool and picked up the cup of cappuccino with both hands. She whimpered and didn't care if Penny heard her.
"Great taste. If you can't decide whether you want to be the town slut or a Catholic school girl."
"The shopper was hedging her bets, going the whole spectrum, is my guess."
"How do you know so much?" Penny said with a sigh and a lopsided grin. She leaned forward so both elbows rested on the counter.
"I had to put up with the town jerks who thought that all orphans were fair game, before I got taken away to school. You know who the Gladstones are?" Jane managed a chuckle when Penny gave an exaggerated shudder. "I wasn't old enough for the really bad stuff when they were getting up to speed on their tricks, but I watched what happened to other girls. And guys. Not much changes, if you really think about it. Although, I do hope they changed that horrid jungle wallpaper in the counselor's office."
"Nope. Still there." The girl's mouth dropped open. "I forgot—you said you used to live here—at NCH."
"Same dormitory and cottage, too. But that's not why I hired you. Angela said you were good, and that's why I took you. I don't believe in charity when it comes to my business." Jane nodded for emphasis.
"So why did you come back, once you got away?"
"It's not that great out there in the big, real world." She sighed.
"The guys are better, at least."
"Let me remind you that Evan came from out of town."
"Oh. Yeah." Penny shrugged and grinned. "So, how are you doing with Kurt?"
"Not. Nothing. Never." Jane sighed. "The orphanage taught me that it's nice to depend on people, but get used to being alone. Or at least not getting tied into people. They always let you down. There are two kinds of guys in the world, Penny. The ones looking for babysitters or mommies or live-in maids with bedroom privileges. The other ones want to suck your brains out and do all your thinking for you."
"Sounds like the guys in the other cottages, all right. But Kurt isn't like that."
"Let's hope so."
The conversation stayed with her through the morning. She zoned out several times, trying to follow the misty, fleeting glimpses of her dream the night before, which had been awakened by what Penny said.
Funny, but she thought she hadn't dreamed at all.
Usually, she remembered all the details of her dreams. It was part and parcel of being what she was—unable to totally disengage her conscious mind. Many of her fellow students had the same problem or Gift, and they had explained it to her. It was part of what they were. Everybody dreamed, everybody remembered what they had dreamed.
Except for her, last night.
Why was that?
Why did she get a shivery, slightly twisting, slightly sick feeling in the pit of her stomach when she tried to hold onto the misty fragment of what she thought had been a dream?
We do have a problem, don't we, darling?
"Who—" Jane caught herself and barely managed not to look all around the spa. Penny had left not ten minutes ago to pick up their lunch and the lunch hour visitors hadn't shown up yet. She was alone.
So why did she have that feeling that if she was careful and moved slowly, she would finally catch a glimpse of the shadow that always hovered at the corner of her eye?
Who are you? She focused her thoughts, trying to make them sharp and dense, and aimed in the direction of where the voice seemed to originate.
Ah, lovely. You can hear me when you're awake. My dear lady, how distressed I was last night, when I couldn't contact you during your dreaming time. I was so dreadfully afraid that we would never be able to meet.
Jane resisted the impulse to snatch up the decorative throw lying across the couch in the footbath corner of the spa. She felt cold and damp for a moment. Then the feeling passed when she realized she couldn't discern if the speaker was male or female. There was no "sound" to the voice speaking inside her head. Just a sensation of power, of age, of immensity.
We're meeting now, aren't we? she responded after a moment of hesitation, trying to understand the exhilaration mixed with the sensation she had been knocked off her feet and couldn't find the floor. It was probably just residue from her late night and all the emotional ups and downs Kurt had put her through, plus the stress of flying back and forth and pushing her limits. It was hard to believe she had done so much, thought so hard, in one night.
Indeed, we are meeting now. I am delighted. As I was delighted yesterday—your time, not my time, how much I managed to learn from your dreams even though we couldn't converse! Yes, my lovely, clever new friend, I was delighted to feel the flow of power and intelligence between you and your two friends. Why is it you have never thought to work together before? Think of all the amazing things you could have accomplished before this, if you had worked in concert instead of in solo missions, as it were?
The voice paused. Jane flinched from a sensation of that great age suddenly weighing down, pressing like tons of darkness and stone and cold. A sensation of loneliness.
It is a wonderful thing to find companionship. And even more wonderful to finally find someone to cross the great gap between worlds.
Worlds? Jane flinched. She hated sounding like a brainless parrot.
Yes, of course. How bright and clever your mind is. Like a light in the darkness in the void separating the worlds. There is more than one world. There are many layers of reality, one on top of another, all occupying the same space, as it were, but each unaware of the other. Except for those clever and sensitive enough to feel the crowded conditions of reality, to hear the voices and the tingle of energy that slips through the ephemeral veil of time and space. Of course, you yourself were able to slide through from one world to another, so that likely enhanced your sensitivity.
Slide through? I don't think so.
Part of her was fascinated, and the other part felt like an extremely stupid child who wasn't even told she had to recite for visitors, l
et alone warned that visitors were coming. She didn't know if she wanted to hear more, or if she wanted to slam the metaphorical door shut and hide. Another part of her wanted to shriek for Kurt, even for Reginald and Demetrius, to come stand with her and explain things.
Realizing that need, that fear, hit her like a slap of icy water or filthy slush thrown up from the wheel of a speeding car on a stormy winter day. Jane sat very still, praying no one noticed, while she seethed inside, hating this feeling of being unprepared, incompetent. Afraid of her own reaction.
Afraid of looking around and realizing that everyone else had known the car was coming, but they were just vicious enough to let her stay within range and get soaked.
Afraid to look around, ask questions, and learn that everybody else already knew about the cracks or crevices or gaps between the worlds.
Or maybe nobody else did. If they knew, they should have told her about them, to look for them, right? If anybody knew about them, they should know the warning signs of that ability in other people, just like the Old Poops knew how to identify Gifted children as they awakened to their abilities. They had a responsibility to find and train those people, didn't they? Just like Demetrius and Reginald kept preaching that those with unique talents had the responsibility to find others with unique talents, train them, and use those talents for the good of the world.
Right?
So, in those few seconds of uncomfortable, rapid thought, Jane realized something.
If nobody had told her about the gaps and cracks or whatever they were between worlds, the multiple layers of reality, the crowded conditions and all that... Maybe nobody else knew.
Maybe she was the first one, at least in her world, who could hear through to the other side?
That meant she had a responsibility to find out what she could do, what the dangers were, and use the talent properly.
Right?
For two seconds, Jane hung on the knife's edge of shoving away this strange, unanticipated contact and knowledge because she was afraid, and because she was angry, and because she knew Reginald and Demetrius and all the rest of the older generation would expect her to do her duty. She was sick and tired of doing her duty all alone.
Of course you slid through, the voice continued. He, it, sounded slightly offended, tending toward confused. How else did you get from your world to this one? You don't think you were sent, do you? If you were, why were you separated from your companions? I dare any civilized society or people to allow their children to venture into alien worlds and dimensions without some sort of protection or guidance. Or at least instructions for how to return home. No, my dear, you and others like you were precocious, clever, curious. And you found the cracks, the weak places, so to speak, in the fabric of reality, and slid through to this world.
Of course... Jane nearly laughed aloud. It made so much sense.
It made sense even though it felt like a comic book plot.
What other explanation could there be?
For half a second, she wanted to find Kurt and tell him all about her discovery. Then she thought about his secretiveness, his attempt to drive her away, his decision to consider her a threat to Neighborlee, despite Angela's very evident approval.
He probably knows all this already. Or he's guessed it. Do you think?
Unfortunately, that is very likely. The voice sounded wounded on her behalf. My dear, new friend, I fear you have been kept in the dark.
Yeah, tell me about it.
The voice laughed. Jane froze, hearing ice in the sound, and echoes from vast, dark, cavernous spaces. Then the sound changed to nothing but rolling, ringing, bright humor.
Oh, my dear, how refreshing you are! Yes, we have both been kept in the dark. I, because that is the only way I am able to survive, with my mind reaching to all dimensions. And you, because ignorance keeps you safe. But together...ah, together, what wonders we will accomplish.
That's the answer, isn't it?
Answer to what?
Why we are the way we are. Why we don't know who we belong to. Why all of us are abandoned. Jane shuddered, hating the images that doubts put into her mind. We weren't abandoned, were we? We just got lost and fell through the cracks, right?
Undoubtedly. Why would anyone throw away precious life? Especially life with so much talent, so much potential and strength? It's barbaric.
So, where do we come from?
I have several ideas. But we need to be together. Physically in one place, one dimension.
How do I get to you? Jane heard the door creak open and muffled a groan as Penny came back, grinning, holding aloft a cardboard tray with their lunch. Her stomach rumbled, pinching suddenly as if she had gone for days without food.
Ah, now, that is the question. You will be a hero, you know. A wonder. Someone everyone will admire for generations to come, if you accomplish this miracle and bring home the lost children. But you must rest now, my dear. You need your strength. This conversing across the dimensions takes too much of your energy, and mine. Imagine how much energy it will take to cross the barrier? The voice sighed, sounding centuries-weary and regretful. I am afraid you will need to bring many others of your kind to help you, to lend their strength. But can it be accomplished? Do any of you know how to work together?
Not like this. We've never come up against a puzzle like this. Jane mustered up a smile for Penny and cleared off the little table behind her, so the teen could put down their lunch. A mental image of Kurt flicked through her mind.
Be careful, my dear. There is partnership, and there is slavery. I wouldn't want you hurt, ever. Especially not by one who pretends interest in you, and yet indicates so little trust in you.
Then the sensation of vastness and darkness and emptiness faded from her mind. Jane was glad she was sitting down, because suddenly she couldn't tell up from down, and it seemed like all the lights dimmed around her. She clutched at the counter where she had been sitting and took a few deep breaths until everything straightened out.
"You okay?" Penny asked. She snatched up the raspberry smoothie and slid it into Jane's faintly shaking hand.
Jane shook her head and sucked hard on the straw. The cold of the fruit, ice and cream hit her stomach hard and made her head ache, but she couldn't get enough. The emptiness inside her clamored for more. Finally, she had to stop to take a breath.
"Wow. You must have been hungry. Mrs. Kendle gets kind of woozy when she doesn't eat right, too." The girl shrugged and turned back to spread out the rest of their lunch.
Jane nodded, glad to take the teen's ready explanation. Really, what other explanation was there? This mental communication across dimensions was draining—and the way she felt provided solid proof that it had happened. She hadn't hallucinated, and mental communication with other Gifted people never drained her this way, even the time she had needed to shout across three states.
She would be a hero, the voice had said. Jane grinned as she took a big bite of her veggie wrap. This was the kind of hero work she could get used to, doing important things for people who, despite all their talents and training and experience, couldn't do it for themselves. Finally finding the answer to where she and the others had come from. The answer to why they were the way they were. This wasn't babysitting lazy incompetents. This was something important, something truly epic and heroic.
* * * *
Deep below Neighborlee, the darkness laughed and stretched luxuriously. Rock melted away in advance of its expanding boundaries. Eyes opened and stared through the layers of rock and soil that lay between the darkness and the lives going innocently through their days.
Hunger rumbled hot and painful through the darkness. The energy it had siphoned so slowly, so easily from Jane, had only served to whet its appetite. Soon, it would need to feed.
Chapter Fourteen
Hello?
Jane felt incredibly foolish, sitting in her living room at one in the morning, trying to contact a voice that might not actually exist. She had bee
n pretty peeved at Kurt and wanting something, anything to give her some answers, an escape, maybe even a little revenge. Hadn't she devised a dozen imaginary friends when she lived in the orphanage? They talked to her and visited her in her dreams and she sometimes believed they were real.
What if she had made up her friend this morning?
A day of thinking, of mundane business, of silence from the voice, had started the doubts and questions spinning through her mind.
Are you there? Can you hear me?
Yes, my dear. How wonderful to hear your thoughts again. You sound rather weary. Have you been occupied fighting the forces of evil?
I've been occupied fighting with my stock room and customers who insist they bought things from me that I never stocked, before I even opened for business. Jane relaxed into the support of her couch and smiled up at the ceiling. There was just something about the vibrations that came to her when the voice spoke. They soothed her. Made the rotten, awful, mundane details of daily life seem like an unpleasant dream.
Oh. I had the impression you were a vigilante of sorts, patrolling the darkness and finding evil and danger to thwart, so innocents could sleep in peace.
Yeah, I wish. Actually, I'm retired, Jane hurried to say, to stave off what she suspected would be a flood of guilt-inducing questions from the voice. She had a flood of her own to hurl back at him. Or her. Or it. For all she knew, the voice could be a "them." Even a hive mind.
Or had she been reading too much science fiction lately?
You said before that we had come through gaps or cracks in the fabric of time and space, sliding from one dimension to another. How could we do that when we were kids, without any powers, and we can't sense those gaps now, when we're stronger and more experienced and a whole heck of a lot more sensitive?
It was your innocence and untrained potential for power, for talent, that let you slip through the so-called cracks or gaps in the fabric. The voice sounded rich with amusement.
Hero Blues Page 20
