Jamb (The Cornerstone Series)

by Misty Provencher

  “But if we all want to assume that our Being is better or different than someone else’s, just don’t bother to look around. It’s easy enough not to see, if you don’t want to open your peepers. Or we could look and argue some more over what is behind the curtain- man, woman, dog, angel…vapor.

  “Don’t you see that it doesn’t matter if it is all the things and still only one thing? Let’s compare one hair against another and spend all day determining which is softer, longer, brighter, stronger. Let’s pretend it doesn’t matter that it is all the same hair on the same head. Someone needs to be more right than anyone else, don’t they? Don’t they? So which of you is the most right today?”

  “The Addo is right,” Dai says. “We all know the true name of our God. We need to put aside everyone else’s confusion and concentrate on the matters before us.”

  More than one Procella rolls their eyes, but the Addo just wipes the crumbs from his hands and starts again.

  “Okay, if we’re done viewing the detour scenery...where was I? The fifth point? I think so. The fifth roadblock is that we’re short-handed on our side of the tug-o-war rope. We’re twelve Addos down, so I need to meet your Moxes and introduce to you the one I’ve been training myself. In fact—and I think this’ll make you squeal a bit—I’ve made a drastic decision. For my own Mox, I’ve brought in one of the Simple.”

  Addo sits back and retrieves another cookie as the collective gasp ripples through not only the Procella in the courtyard, but their Curas up in the balconies. Then the buzz begins and people are leaning off the railings above to shout down things like, That is not done! and A Simple Addo can’t lead us properly! and We won’t follow a substandard Addo!

  Sean appears relaxed, his hands folded passively in front of him. Appears. But when I study him more closely, I see the muscles jumping in his clenched jaw and the way he digs one thumb into the top of his clasped hands.

  The Addo, however, just keeps munching, scattering another ski-slope worth of crumbs down the front of him. I can’t even project the question in my head—What are you doing? –because everyone in the balconies is moving and shouting and stabbing fingers in the Addo’s direction. My entire body prickles with awareness, and I struggle to keep my field down, since I’m not in danger. I’m just totally furious that the other Cura members are saying crap about Sean. I want to climb up to each balcony and tell them exactly how lucky they would be to have Sean as their Addo.

  But even the Procella in the courtyard have all taken different stances. Tuco is pacing along the outer ring, nearest to Sasu, as he keeps a stink-eye trained right on the Addo. Wojtek and Heema have both moved away, gripping the backs of benches, elbows locked, as they stare at the Addo. Lestyn folds his stout arms, his gaze riveted on the Addo. Everyone in the courtyard, whether they are pointing or pacing or sitting, is watching the Addo.

  With the tension so tight, it’s like twanging the high E string on a guitar, I realize it isn’t shock that is drawing the stares of the Procella to the Addo. It is that the Contego Procella are being compelled to protect. In such close range, along with the perceived threat from the balconies above, the Procella’s fields are probably syncing with our Addo, since all of their Addos have died. Their Contego wiring compels them to protect the Addo, the same way it compels me.

  You see why we called the Procella and had the Curas remain in the balconies? the Addo mentions in the back of my head.

  As the last remaining Addo, you inherited all the Contego, I answer. You are our sole leader, so they are hard-wired to protect you now, just like I am. You’re playing the odds that the majority won’t go haywire as traitors and try to kill you.

  Totally, Addo says. Even in my head, his voice is garbled with his mouthful of cookies. My eyes dart around, aware of the woman hanging off the third floor balcony, shouting in a stream of what I think is Hindi, at the Addo.

  She’s furious, I say.

  Ah yes, Padma. That’s Addo Gita’s sister. She still wants me dismembered, and I don’t mean from the community. The Addo finishes his cookie and slaps his hands together to shake off the crumbs. But, onto business. I’m going to assume by this show that we may have a clean community in here. A traitor that’s gone to The Fury would have tried an attack by now, I think. Or at least tried to insight a riot over my bringing in a Simple Mox or present one of their own Simple as a Mox also.

  I tip my head up, scanning the movement overhead. They’re still pretty upset. Most the balconies are calling you dirty names and look—ninth floor—someone’s mooning you over the edge of the balcony.

  Addo’s eyes lift, finding the rear end on display over the balcony railing. Ah yes. Tuco’s floor. They’re spicy. He chuckles. But, you can see that while they all have their pigtails in a knot, no one’s trying to kill me. That’s a good sign.

  Good sign? I snort in my head, but the Addo is on his feet and raising his hands in an attempt to signal everyone to shut up. It takes a couple minutes before they do.

  “These Cusps are here to make us appreciate that every single moment on this Earth is unique.”

  “Don’t try to sugar coat it, Addo,” Angus says. I am focused on how he has his skeletal hand jammed in his pocket, but the moment Angus spots me, he carefully withdraws it, keeping his fingers in view. He licks his lips and continues. “Unique or not, this moment has us all stacked up and as good as paralyzed in this hotel. And you’re trying to sell us on Simple Addos. The Simple cannot lead. It’s not possible. The Simple are Simple for a reason. They don’t have the connections or abilities to lead a Cura. They just don’t. But knowing that, you’re still asking us to follow a blind leader. I can’t agree any less on that one, Addo.”

  “The Addo knows more than we,” Dai says. “We must be still and listen.”

  “Agreed. This is a waste of time,” Wojtek says. “There has never been a Simple Addo, or a Simple Contego or a Simple Alo. It has never happened because it is not possible.”

  “I gotta say, it seems like it’d get us further by getting on the problem instead,” Larson says from his spot in the ring. “We ought to be hitting The Fury with everything we have left.

  The Addo ignores the Procella and continues.

  “As far as Moxes go, it may seem insignificant that this box of cookies is sitting beside me, but this box of cookies may never sit here, exactly in this position, with this particular Addo beside it, ever again. The sun may never make this exact, same pattern on the floor. This moment is beautiful and unique to any other in time.”

  “But what difference is this to what is needed right now?” Wojtek asks. He strokes the hair on his chin, while his eyes remain tacked to the Addo.

  “All of it,” Addo says. “The sun will never fall exactly this way again, on this exact box of cookies, with this exact audience. Just like this moment is unique, so is the Mox I have chosen.”

  Kaya, the Inuit woman, shoves a lock of her glossy black hair behind her ear with an exasperated sigh. “We are all snowflakes. It is a beautiful thought, but also irrelevant. Simple can not be made Not Simple.”

  “I am your Addo,” the Addo says, pulling down the hem of his sweatshirt. “I have a Simple Mox that is capable of Addoship. It is the first in history and while I understand your skepticism, you seem to be forgetting that I am your Addo and I would not mislead you.”

  Someone, in one of the balconies, yells back, “Oh no, that’s never happened…Addo Chad!” and the angry murmurs jump up again.

  “I won’t argue with you; Chad was certainly a bag of raw lima beans,” Addo begins again. “But I promise you, I am no lima bean. However, we are all that each other has, and since I have trusted all of you not to shoot me in the face the moment I appeared, I ask that you let me explain my theory on why the universe may have presented us with this Simple Mox.”

  The upper balconies barely settle down, but the Addo continues anyway.

  “We are obviously in a time of great need and we find ourselves terribly shortchanged on t
he number of Addos we need to pull out of this mess. The universe always seeks balance, as any Veritas will tell you, and the only way the Ianua community can hope to regain its footing and settle down the Fury, is to have strong leadership. One Addo just ain’t gonna get us there, kids. So, I believe the universe has given us an incredible gift. Sean Reese. Our very first, Simple Mox.”

  “We need, therefore we are given,” Imad says with a slow nod. “This has always been right.”

  Sisi’s fingertips play at the base of her long, brown neck. “So now you say we shall recruit the Simple?”

  “Not recruit,” the Addo says. “Accept. But only those Simple who show the natural ability, such as Sean Reese has. I’ve never seen it happen in all my years, but I’ve never seen such a major loss of Addos either. Our community is up the proverbial crick, without sufficient Addos to bless the Memories and organize the troops. The universe always strives to balance and this seems like a solution to help keep the peace. So, while I’m presenting my Simple Mox, let me ask: do any other Curas have Simple Moxes to present?”

  I think it’s a pretty clever way to flush out some traitors, but instead of a Cura presenting a Simple Mox, it’s like the Addo has just asked the crowd if anyone is aware of flying pigs starting up an airline service. Some of the people in the balconies are laughing, some are staring down on the Addo like he just fed them bad eggs, and the hater from Tuco’s balcony is still mooning the Addo.

  “Alright, now that that’s out of the way,” Addo says, once the crowd has quieted down again. “Which of you have Moxes to present?”

  Only two balconies have hands raised. Addo does a disappointed groan in the back of my head.

  “Send them down, please,” he says. “And while we are waiting, I will introduce you to my Mox, Sean Reese. He is the first born of my own Procella, Miranda Reese, and the late Basil Reese. He also has three brothers who are all active Contego.”

  At the mention of the three brothers, since Mark and Brandon are still missing, Addo clears his throat to hide the way his own tone dips. He turns and motions for Sean to step forward. Sean does and the room goes dead silent. I focus in on Sean so hard that his tight, shallow breathing fills my ears.

  And then someone starts clapping.

  I turn to look at Garrett, but his hands are hanging at his sides. He’s in his highest alert mode, although he appears nearly fluid, while watching the crowd.

  The clapping is coming from Mrs. Reese. I want to join in, but with my luck, I’ll look away and that’s when somebody would hammer Sean with their platter of cookies. I stay vigilant, but I glance at Mrs. Reese and see how her eyes are wet and her smile is wide, as she keeps on clapping for her oldest son. Sean shoots her a smile, but when he looks back at the Outer Cura’s Procella, and especially when his eyes rise up, balcony after balcony, his smile fades away. At least the butt has disappeared from the ledge on the 9 floor.

  My skin bristles as the elevator door to the courtyard opens. Two girls enter, but Zane walks over and stops them before they can approach the Addo.

  “Whoa ladies,” he says. “Close enough.”

  The first girl, with thick black hair that surrounds her face like a spiked heart, lifts her chin and steps up to Zane. She’s almost as skinny as Zane and about the same height, but when he doesn’t move, neither does she.

  “Move,” she says. “I am the Mox from the 9 Cura.”

  “Whoopty ding,” Zane says. “I’m the bad ass Contego from the 13. No one’s getting close to my Addo.”

  “Our Addo,” Tuco moves forward from the opposite side of the courtyard, but Mrs. Neho and Carducci block him. The room is instantly saturated with waves of energy that hike up my nerves, even though there are no other sudden movements.

  “Oh now,” Addo chuckles. “Settle down, everybody. Tuco, you just stay over there with Ruka, and Zane, let the first young lady come .”

  Zane steps aside, but the first girl pulls back and tries to slug Zane in the gut as she passes him. It’s not an attack as much as it is a statement, but she still fails. Zane is out of her way before she can land the punch, with her fist in his grip and a you-thought-so-huh smile on his face. She wrenches her fist away and stomps through us, toward the Addo.

  But Mr. Middleditch side steps the girl before she can pass him. He says over one shoulder, “Sorry Addo. That’s as far as anyone should come for now. You’ll have to do your business from there.”

  “Alrighty then,” Addo shrugs, and then to the girl, “Present yourself, please.”

  “I am Valentina,” the girl says. Tuco throws his shoulders back a little and I think I see his lips twitch as if he’s reciting her words along with her. “Of the 9 Cura. Trained under the late Addo Ferdinand.”

  “Thank you,” the Addo says. The room is silent as he stares at her and remains silent as the girl nods.

  “Yes, Addo,” she says. “My telepathy is as sharp as the cut of my hair.”

  “Very good,” he smiles. “Blessings?”

  “Not yet, sir. But I’m an exceptional judge of character and a master of organization.”

  “As am I, sir,” the other girl pipes up. She’s got dirty blond hair pulled back in a tight bun, full lips, and large, round blue eyes. Although I bet her lips make her even more gorgeous when she smiles, it doesn’t look like she does that very much.

  “Come in,” Addo wags a finger for her to come to him. The girl scowls as she passes Zane and, just as I would expect, it rolls right off his back. He gives this girl a wide smile and rolls out an arm as he does an exaggerated bow, ushering her in. She swishes past, chin high, and I can’t help but think that she’s a girl who has never been questioned. She stops short of Mr. Middleditch, but one step past Valentina. She stands so tall, she’s like a lightening rod and she doesn’t wait for the Addo to ask for her name.

  “Anka,” she says. “Of the fourth Cura. I studied with Addo Kasia. Since her death, I have continued studies with our Procella, Wojtek. You will find I am quite accomplished with blessings, telepathy, intra-Cura relations, and organization.”

  “Thank you,” Addo says. He stares at the girl a moment and then, lifts an eyebrow at her. “Anything, Anka?”

  “That is all,” she says with a confused shrug. “What other requirements do you have of me?”

  Wojtek, across the room, drags a hand through his hair as he shakes his head.

  “Now?” Addo asks. Anka narrows her eyes, catching on.

  “Apples?” she guesses. Addo grimaces.

  “We’ll work on that,” he says as he turns toward Sean. The shade of the tree makes the Addo almost appear to flicker.

  Sean answers the Addo’s silent question, “No, Addo, I don’t think she’s lying. I think Anka is most likely blocking, due to the pressure to perform in front of everyone here.”

  Anka’s expression suddenly walks the line between digging her fingernails into Sean’s face and kissing the soles of his shoes. Instead, she looks down at her nails with a frown.

  Surprised gasps echo from the balconies above. They really didn’t expect Sean to be able to receive the Addo’s telepathic messages. Garrett moves in to stand side-by-side with his brother. I wish I was Supergirl, able to shoot up into the balconies and get in all of their faces. I want to yell at them—everything that none of them know about Sean Reese. He’s brilliant and patient and kind, and for him to be doubted by our community just cooks my meat.

  I think the message to Addo, Why are you letting them treat Sean like that?

  Oh, they’re just being yard apples because they didn’t think he could do it. To be their Addo, he has to see them at their most ridiculous and still be able to forgive them. A lot. And they’ll come around.

  “Sean?” A clear voice, one that isn’t berating or accusing, calls down from the balconies. My eyes instantly find the girl it belongs to. She’s leaning off the second Cura’s railing and she’s beautiful, even though she looks a little out of place, among her mainly Asian-featured Cura. Th
is girl has wide, round eyes and unruly ringlets of brown hair that cascade over her shoulders as she leans off the balcony. “Sean, it’s me!”

  I glance over at Garrett’s brother. His brow is bunched, as he squints up at the girl, confused.

  “Teagan?” Sean says, stepping forward. He drifts into the center of the courtyard, his head tipped back to see the girl above. Garrett and I move with him, trying to encircle him. He’s vulnerable out in the wide open, but, luckily, no one makes a move.

  “I’ve got to talk with you,” Teagan calls down. “Addo, I’m going to come down, okay?”

  “Sure, why not?” Addo smiles as he slips his millionth cookie from his seemingly bottomless package. “Come on down, Teagan of the second Cura.”

  Chapter 4

  Who is Teagan? I ask the Addo. He does such a soft shrug that I doubt anyone else catches it.

  No idea, he says.

  What? You can’t just invite anyone down here, you know. Especially if you don’t even know who they are!

  Sean knows her, he mumbles under a bite of his cookie. Besides, I just can’t bring myself to run screaming from any pretty little girls.

  You think being a pretty girl means she’s not dangerous? You should be running away screaming from everybody right now, I grumble.

  Garrett drifts closer to me, an eyebrow cocked. He knows I’m talking with the Addo, so I give Garrett the slightest shake of my head, letting him know that Addo doesn’t have a clue who this Teagan girl is.

  But Garrett leans over and whispers in my ear, “It’s okay. Her and Sean had a thing a while back.”

  The relief is as instant as the confusion. This girl and Sean had a thing? I don’t think of Sean as a guy who would ever have a thing with anybody. Just with books. And Ianua history. I mean, Sean is Sean. He’s Garrett’s carbon copy, so he’s every bit as hot as Garrett, but he’s...I don’t know...Sean. He’s always so even and calm and focused on learning stuff that I’ve never even thought of him as a regular guy, much less one that would ever have a girlfriend.