The Root

by Na'amen Tilahun

  He was lying on the sleeping bag preparing to sleep when his boot began to chirp. Cursing, he pulled the boot close and fished his b’caster from inside. His night was about to be shot to shit. There was no need to delay it.

  He placed it against his face and endured the uncomfortable sensation of the wet cords wiggling out and encircling his eye and mouth and entering his ear.

  He closed his left eye.

  “Answer.”

  Hu’s smug face expanded in front of him.

  “Ugh. What do you want Hu?”

  “We’ve done it.”

  “What?” Matthias sat up. “You found Erik’s bloodline.”

  “No.” Hu’s face twisted a bit. He didn’t trust Hu, he didn’t trust anyone in the Organization really, but it thinned even further the higher you went into their bureaucracy. The Maestres were the lead bullshit artists. “We are still looking into that. We do however have an empty way-station near you.”

  “Really.” Then he paused. “Did the other Maestres agree with this, or just you?”

  Hu’s lips thinned and that was all Matthias needed to confirm his suspicions. Technically Hu was doing nothing wrong; as a Maestre he was trusted to direct the resources of the Organization as he saw fit. The favor Matthias had traded to them made him such a resource but a rare resource, a one-time-use-only resource, and usually there would be endless debate over what to do with him.

  His orders should have been weighed to help the Organization and also to try and convince him it was in his best interests to join up.

  “It’s south of the Mission and currently empty. We need to move on this now.”

  Matthias nodded.

  “Do recon along with your berserker.”

  “His name is Erik. And aren’t there teams with more experience that are also more familiar with the territory?”

  “Yes, but none with your unique power combination. You can sneak yourself and your companion around and if worst comes to worst he can fight your way out.”

  Matthias didn’t want to admit it but Hu had a point. Some of their best leaps in technologies and medicines, sciences and weaponry, had occurred when someone had managed to raid a way-station or base. And since both were usually built around portals they were often able to destroy those as well, and a watch set on those narrow points between their worlds could make sure no other portal was allowed to manifest.

  “Okay, where is this way-station?”

  Hu rattled off the address and Matthias wrote it down on the back of a take-out receipt.

  “When do you plan to attack?”

  Matthias squinted his eyes at the Maestro.

  “Why?”

  Hu blew out a frustrated breath.

  “Because we intend to have other teams in the area to keep it quiet and safe in case of trouble. We don’t need non-Blooded getting hurt or seeing something they shouldn’t. The clean-up is always more trouble.”

  Matthias went cold. He knew what might be meant by clean-up.

  “I’ll pick up Erik and be on my way now.”

  “Good.”

  The Maestre disconnected the call before Matthias could do so. He grimaced at the slight sound distortion it left behind and pulled the caster from his face, shoving it into the pocket of his rumpled jeans along with the take-out receipt. He sniff-tested and pulled on a black T-shirt and socks. Jamming his feet into his favorite pair of gray leather boots, he was out the door.

  As he jogged to the car, he nodded to a homeless man while avoiding the arms that were outstretched for a hug. He couldn’t deny that he was excited to see Erik again. There was something about the man, a combination of sarcasm and optimism and practicality that Matthias had only seen rarely. Erik had seen the worst of the people around him yet still wanted to help others.

  Nothing could happen between them. It would be entirely too complicated on both ends. Despite repeating these things to himself, he still found himself smiling as he pulled the car out of the parking space.

  ERIK

  Erik was bored out of his mind. He had been expelled from school, which was fine by him, but the fact that the two bullies hadn’t been really pissed him off. Those little assholes had terrorized the school for years but they were perky and White, so of course they never paid for it. Bringing up the image of them after the fight always made him feel better though.

  He would take the GED as soon as he could and get it out of the way, then apply for colleges. Still, at least school had been something to fill his days with. Now he spent most of his at home watching TV, not really able to leave because of the few trucks and cars still waiting outside.

  Add to that that the conversation with Robert had not gone well.

  “Son, can we try to talk now?”

  Erik sighed. It was only the next day, much too soon, but Robert could not wait.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  They were sitting in the living room, Erik muted the reality show that he’d been using to distract himself.

  “Your mother explained about the whole Blooded thing.”

  “Okay.”

  “It must have been quite a surprise.”

  “Yeah, it was. Still is.” It wasn’t as bad as Erik had feared.

  “Do you know anything about my bloodline yet?”

  “No, but both the Organization and Matthias are looking into it.”

  “Okay . . . well, let me know what they find out.”

  Robert stopped and Erik waited, looking at him.

  “What’s it like?”

  “What?”

  “To have those abilities? To feel that powerful?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Erik voice was quiet but he couldn’t control the disbelief that shot through him.

  Robert was up and pacing.

  “I can’t stop thinking about it, ever since your mother told me. How amazing it must be! I can’t believe she has it and doesn’t want to use it.” The bitterness in his voice did not surprise Erik, but he was surprised at the disappointment he felt. He had thought he’d given up on his father long ago, but apparently not. While Robert was facing the other way, shooting questions at Erik, not waiting for answers, Erik rose and went to his room. He locked himself inside for a full day and hadn’t seen Robert in the two days since.

  There was nothing good on television this late at night; he’d grown tired of the trite suggestions Netflix had for him. He couldn’t sleep at all. His mom was in her studio, seemingly unconcerned with Robert’s disappearance, so when the doorbell rang he hurried downstairs, anxious for any kind distraction. Matthias was standing on his front stoop.

  “Thank god! Tell me there’s something to do.”

  MATTHIAS

  Matthias froze, then burst into laughter.

  “What is so funny? I’m ready to rip out my nails or actually watch the midnight late-oeuvre M. Night Shyamalan film festival on TV. Not sure which would be more painful. Plus Robert found out about the Blooded thing and was full of questions and then he left a couple nights ago and hasn’t been back since.”

  Matthias stopped laughing.

  “I’m sure your father is okay.”

  Erik nodded and waved it off, but his eyes remained worried.

  “We have the mission from the Organization.”

  “Thank goodness. Something to do. I assume this is our favor?”

  “An Angelic way-station in the city is unoccupied. The Organization wants us to do some recon, and destroy their portal.”

  “What’s a way-station?”

  “Usually a house that Angelics use to come through to our world or trade goods, back and forth—including people. They’re built where the walls between our worlds are easily breached. Usually heavily guarded.”

  “That seems dangerous. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but y’all said that most Blooded can’t stand up to an Angelic, right?”

  “True.”

  “Then this seems like a suicide mission for most Agents.” Despite his arguments, Erik had already
pulled on his shoes and reached behind the door for a small duffle bag, locking the door behind him.

  Matthias raised an eyebrow at the bag as they moved toward the car.

  “I packed for the weekend early. I told you I was bored.”

  They slid into the black Mini Cooper.

  “Well, the information says the way-station is empty right now so we should be fine, but also . . .” Matthias trailed off.

  “They’re using me.”

  “Yeah.”

  Erik shrugged like it was no big deal but frowned down at his hands in his lap.

  “Just this once, though, and we get to shut down a place that they use to take people off to their world.” Matthias pulled out of the driveway and turned down the street. Erik went stiff in the passenger seat and his voice, when he spoke, had an odd dreamlike quality to it.

  “So we’re going to save someone?”

  “Maybe.” Matthias didn’t want to get his hopes up. More than likely if the place was unguarded there was no one left to save, but they could at least shut down the portal. He noticed the numerous cars pulling out behind to follow and waited until he was on a major road and a SUV was between him and most of the paparazzi vultures before letting his power loose and camouflaging the car.

  The traffic was fairly light since it was 1:37 in the morning. He made his way back to the Mission district.

  “In addition, we’re looking for any technology, or papers with notes on them. You probably won’t be able to read the language, just grab it if it looks important.”

  Erik still had a faraway look in his eyes and he squirmed in the seat, but he nodded.

  “What about if we run into an Angelic?”

  Matthias reached for the glove compartment and pulled it open. The three boxes of ammo were color coded, one red, one black, one white.

  “So the Organization was being a little facetious when they said Blooded could not stand up to Angelics. One on one, they’re right, but we each have our toys, don’t we? The Angelics aren’t fully physical.”

  “They felt physical,” Erik said.

  “Well that black thing was not a normal Angelic . . . still don’t have any idea what it actually was. The other one, the Al-Kutbay? Well we’ve talked about how you’re an advantage.

  “So the white box just has regular lead bullets; we find that heavy metals do more damage on Angelic flesh. The red box has rubber bullets, each of which contains a small charge and reservoir of donation from a Souyoucant Blooded. They will explode and the blood will stick to them and burn. The downside is it’ll fuck you up too if you inhale too much or get enough on your skin. Well, maybe not you.”

  “What about the black case?”

  Matthias tensed. “That one can kill Angelics, but you are only to use it in the most dire of times. It’s something special the Organization created—it eats through matter, living or dead. They only stop when they’ve devoured enough to be satisfied. They’re horrible things. But effective. There will be some guns in the trunk, so we’ll get you one too.”

  “Well, seeing as I don’t actually know how to fire a gun, that seems like a stupid idea.”

  “Oh.” Matthias pulled the white case from the glove compartment while they idled at a stoplight. “Well, then one gun for me and none for you. I’ll have to take you out to a range.”

  “Maybe.” Erik shrugged, still loose-limbed and relaxed, but his face was now wrinkled in thought. “Any chance of a non projectile weapon?”

  Matthias was silent as he steered the car past Cesar Chavez Street.

  “Any particular reason why?”

  “Black man in America carrying a weapon, even with permits, just doesn’t usually end well. Even if I’ll survive it, I feel like the secret might get out.”

  Matthias froze as he turned off onto a smaller, quiet side street. Erik’s voice was still vague sounding, but the request was one Matthias should have been able to figure out on his own.

  “I’ll figure out something else.”

  Erik nodded.

  He pulled up in front of a narrow two-story with a few small square feet of yard in front. A chain-link fence on either side separated it from near-identical houses. The dull neutral tans with a bit of drab gray was peeling a little, the gate stood halfway between functional and broken, the lawn was a mix of brown and green that spoke of good intentions if not good time management.

  “It feels different.”

  Matthias swung his head around. Erik was close, leaning over his shoulder, and Matthias could smell the slightly sour body scent coming from him, pungent but not unpleasant. He cleared his throat and then deliberately shifted his shoulders back, forcing Erik to put some distance between them. He’d been distracted by proximity but the words finally filtered through.

  “Feel?”

  “Yeah.” The dreamlike quality was still in his voice but it felt more focused now, as if Erik were both daydreaming and concentrating on something. “It feels different from the other houses. That one is empty”—he pointed to the one next to their target—“no one’s lived there for months. The others all pulse and shift with light, with people, with heat and life. This one pulses but it’s different, irregular, painful.”

  “At least we know we’re at the right place.” Matthias grabbed the white case from Erik’s lap and unsnapped it, pulling out a couple of magazines of ammo. Replacing the case, he climbed out of the car to put some distance between himself and his aspirant. Erik’s powers were growing in odd ways and Matthias could somehow smell him everywhere, as if he filled the space all around them. Going to the trunk, he pulled a gun from the steel case. The car door opened and closed again. Slamming one magazine home and placing the other in his pocket, Matthias looked over at Erik.

  He was more alert, watching the house with his head cocked to the side, eyes clear but wide.

  “It’s wrong.”

  Matthias rolled his eyes. “Can you tell if anyone is inside right now?”

  Erik finally turned to look at him smiling. “I don’t think it works like that.”

  Matthias raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then how does it work?”

  The confidence fell from Erik’s face and the space between his eyes and his mouth wrinkled. “It’s like reading the history of something but not the present. Like the energy, the force we use to live has soaked into these houses so I can tell that things live here but I can’t tell if they’re here now ’cause I’m not reading them exactly but their long-term effect on the house. Does that make sense?”

  “No.” Matthias was as confused as ever, but a Blooded was usually the best guide to their own powers; their feelings rarely led them astray. Very few killed themselves exploring their powers and a large majority of those happened during the awakening itself. “But I trust what you’re saying. Let’s go.”

  He moved up the walk.

  “What, we’re just gonna walk in the front door?” Erik sounded impressed.

  Matthias shrugged. “If there is an Angelic here, odds are they know we’re here already. Their senses are usually much better than ours. I’d rather go in the front and have a fast and straight path to the exit if necessary.”

  Erik grunted but said nothing else as they reached the door. Matthias tried the knob and the door opened silently on its hinges. The hallway was painted an ivory that was yellowed and faded in spots. A set of stairs led up immediately on the right; on the left a hallway led to the rest of the first floor.

  Erik moved toward the stairs before Matthias stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.

  “It’s upstairs,” he argued.

  The faraway look was back in Erik’s eyes and Matthias nodded to show he had heard and understood.

  “We need to clear the downstairs first. I don’t want to run into any problems if we have to book it.”

  Erik nodded and they moved through the downstairs with Matthias in the lead. Matthias wrapped his power around both of them, softening the sound of their footfalls, blending their shadows
in with the background, turning their breath into the soft rustle of wind. The entire downstairs was empty, not just of Angelics but of everything; there was no furniture, no appliances, nothing. The place was clean but the paint on the walls was faded, the violet wallpaper in the kitchen peeling and falling apart. It looked like a brand-new house that had been left empty for twenty years to acquire the dank mildew smell that came from deep in the walls and filled the whole house. After they’d circled the entire downstairs and gone through every room, Matthias led them upstairs.

  Halfway up, Erik tapped him on the back. “The smell is gone.”

  Matthias took a deep inhale. He was right; the dank scent of mold and disuse was gone. Instead the air was fresh and sharp like right after a rain. Matthias kept on, Erik falling in behind him.

  The downstairs was a warren of small rooms leading to and through one another, and the upstairs had probably looked like that once. Now it was one huge space, the walls that had separated the spaces ripped to rubble and left in piles on the floor. The ceiling was a spiderweb of cracks, and small piles of plaster dust attested to the fact that none of this was stable. There was no one he could see.

  Erik gasped and grabbed Matthias’s arm. He pointed down at the floor.

  There was . . . something on the ground that had most likely been human at one point. It lay flat on the floor, gaping open in places like clothing worn and tossed aside. The tangled mass of dark hair looked like a mop, raw and ravaged in knots; the skin had most likely once been peaches and pink but now was grayed leather yellow. The face was in four pieces, split in a cross that with its haphazard toss gave it a manic full-face grin.

  “Jesus.”

  Erik moved over to it. Matthias made a grab for his arm but missed and stayed rooted to the spot. Erik leaned down and touched the skin, jerking his hand back quickly.

  “It feels weird.”

  “No fuck.”

  Erik looked back and rolled his eyes, the blood and horror of what was in front of him barely seeming to affect him. He reached down again and took a corner between his fingers and lifted it slowly.