The keychain had been a gift from Gemma. How ironic it seemed now. My little sister, who no longer knew who I was, had given me a trinket to help me play at seeing the future. I decided to ask it a question for fun.
I set the backpack down on the end of my bed and picked up the ball between my thumb and forefinger. I closed my eyes to concentrate on a question, but I was instantly transported to a lawn in front of a stairway leading to a long rectangular building made of a castle-like grey stone center and elegant modern glass wings on either side.
Time moved very quickly on the clock face at the top of a tall concrete tower next to me. People streamed in and out of the building and all around me. Wisps of cloud tumbled across the sky as the light blue behind it turned to a deep sapphire and then dark indigo.
Lights inside the building and on the surrounding lampposts had flickered to life. Pedestrian traffic was gone, except for a single girl walking out of the building. I walked towards her. I closed the distance between us until I could see her face. My sister Gemma!
I longed to talk to her, to hug her and tell her I regretted everything. The intensity of my need to reach her jerked my vision self forward as Gemma turned in front of a grid of glass windows.
I followed behind as she marched along the dark concrete path until we reached a major well-lit road. Gemma had books clutched to her chest and more in the backpack sagging low on her back. She sped along the sidewalk quickly in the time-advanced pace of my vision.
Gemma turned and turned again until we reached a brick building next to a large parking lot and open grassy lawn. She pushed the front door open and the scene melted away. I was back in my hotel room.
I looked out the window at the barred shops across the street. Would I ever see Gemma again? She wouldn’t know me if I did see her. I felt so tired and I ached with the weight of everything I had lost in the past few months.
I dropped onto my bed and curled up. Sadness washed over me. I let the tears come. Sobs wracked my body until all my energy left.
“Are you okay?” said Faith. She’d come several steps into our room, but I hadn’t heard the door open.
“How long have you been standing there?” I dabbed at my eyes with the heels of my wrists.
“We heard you in the other room. Jonah wanted to come, but he’s still too weak to get up.”
“I saw my sister. She’s the one who gave me the 8-ball keychain on my bag.” I pointed at the bauble.
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to lose your family. Don’t forget, you’ve still got us. And Ilya. He’s your family now.” Faith’s voice sounded uncharacteristically soft. Her eyes brimmed with sympathy.
“I didn’t know you cared.”
“Of course I care. I know I’ve been bitchy lately. I don’t have an excuse.”
“You’re still in love with Jonah. I get that. I can’t help how I feel either.” I swept more moisture from my eyelids with my fingertips.
“I’m getting over Jonah, Irina. I don’t want to be the bitter bag who glares at you from the sidelines. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t want to be with me. It’s embarrassing.” Faith whipped her hair back with a nod and an eye roll.
“Ilya told me you were embarrassed while you were with him too. Don’t let it eat you up.” I sat up to face her.
“You and I both have to get our heads together.”
“I’m glad you don’t hate me.” I took a calming breath.
“Likewise,” said Faith with a smile.
Chapter 5
“I’m going to the University of British Columbia. I know where Gemma lives now,” I announced as I walked into the guys’ room the next morning. “It’s probably a bad idea and a waste of time. I’m doing it anyway.”
“Actually, we should all try to keep busy while Jonah rests,” Ilya said.
“Go, but don’t talk to your sister. If Rubin did his work well, and he always did, she won’t know you.” Cole stood at the kitchenette counter breaking up a pineapple with his bare hands. “You’ll scare the hell out of her. She may even call the cops.” He portioned pineapple onto four paper plates.
“Maybe she’ll remember me if she sees me in person.” I heard the desperation in my voice and saw pity on the faces of my friends. I waved away the pineapple Cole passed to me.
“We can’t stop you from trying, but for what it’s worth, I agree with Cole,” said Ilya.
“Go see her. Say goodbye somehow if you can. We’ll be here for you when you get back,” said Jonah from his bed.
Faith nodded agreement.
“Thanks. I won’t make a scene, whatever happens,” I said.
I returned to a bus stop I’d passed on East Hastings that had a UBC route listed on its signpost. A bus arrived a few minutes later. I dropped coins in the fare box, took my receipt, and made my way to the back of the bus. I found an empty seat in the back row next to a window.
Vancouver’s downtown eastside rolled along beside me. The crowds on the street gave way to boutiques and the lobbies of modern glass towers as we plowed back into the heart of the city. The bus turned onto the iconic Granville Street and the boutiques and eateries took on an edgy flavor. People with body piercings wearing ripped up band shirts or skull-decorated tees and raggedy jeans flaunted studded bracelets, mohawks, and dyed hair. They walked the street mingling with tourists and business professionals. Windows populated with army boots and indie band posters alongside trendy clothing, pizza-by-the-slice and tattoo parlors.
As the blocks of hard rock culture gave way to plain glass and metal towers again, the road took us out onto a bridge, like exiting through a gate and floating out onto open water.
We stopped on Granville Island. Nostalgia flowed over me as I remembered coming to the Island with Mom and Gemma. I looked over at a yellow building topped with a rainbow behind the words Kid’s Market. We’d visited Vancouver because Gemma had a science project in a provincial competition exhibited at Science World.
Mom took us shopping at the Market because Gemma’s project had won a medal. She bought gifts for both of us to keep things fair. Gemma complained because she didn’t want me to get a present for doing nothing. Mom still bought stuffed bears for both of us, but she also bought Gemma an expensive dollhouse, in spite of not really being able to afford it after the cost of the trip itself.
I’d hated Gemma that day. I was jealous of her and ashamed I hadn’t done anything special. I resented Mom for putting Gemma first, yet again. I remembered walking away from the Kid’s Market and looking into the shop windows farther down the lane. Art supplies and finished works made me ache for the chance to make something myself. I badly wanted to believe I had the potential to create beauty.
For Christmas a few months later, Gemma’s gift to me was a watercolor paint set. She’d remembered how I’d gushed over the arts community on Granville Island. She apologized for being a brat that day and told me she thought I would make a wonderful artist.
Over a decade later, Granville Island made me feel much the same way, without the taint of resentment. I wanted to get off the bus and wander the artists’ studios and gift shops, but I remembered where Gemma would be today and I stayed in my seat. Gemma was my only remaining connection to Mom.
The bus carried on through the hipster strip along West Broadway Avenue, passing upscale brands, designer consignment boutiques, and skateboard shops between bistros and brewpubs. Our route turned into a green space of carefully manicured lawns and lush forest. I saw a street sign for University Boulevard. We passed a golf clubhouse and entered a carefully crafted city inside the forest.
As the bus made a U-turn, I saw the library from my vision shining in the sun northward along a crossroad. I hopped off the bus as soon as it stopped and walked briskly along Gemma’s route home. I snapped up a copy of the stud
ent paper from a small self-serve newsstand along the way.
I reached Gemma’s building and kept walking past it, across the lawn and into the parking lot. I found a bench and got comfortable. I carefully positioned my newspaper so I could see over the top while concealing my face, allowing me to watch the door somewhat inconspicuously.
I waited. And waited. My stomach settled and my pulse slowed. I read a few articles in the paper while keeping one eyeball on the door. I lowered the paper, looked around, flipped the page, read more, and repeated the cycle. It occurred to me I might become conspicuous simply by sitting on the bench too long. Had anyone exiting Gemma’s building entered after I had first sat down? My phone told me that over an hour had passed. Should I venture into the building and hope for a new vision?
I stared at the door, considering making a move when a man wearing a familiar pale blue shirt and metallic slate slacks exited the building. His face was covered in dark scabbing scrapes from his forehead down to his chin in a ruinous swipe. The arm below his wounds had the sleeve rolled up to accommodate a plaster cast.
The injured man looked at his other wrist checking his watch as a woman in a black pantsuit joined him on the curb. I recognized her long dark ironed hair immediately. Tatiana! I knew the injured man before he turned to speak. The clean unhurt side of Ivan’s face shifted into view, his expression cold and hard as ever. Ilya was right! Our father lived!
The pair paused on the corner in front of the building. Ivan surveyed the lawn and the parking lot while Tatiana examined her phone. Ivan pointed towards the parking lot and stepped out onto the road.
Shit! Why had I come alone? Could Ivan hear me? Sense me? See me? Ivan kept walking into the parking lot and disappeared behind the frame of a SUV. Tatiana followed him, still looking at the screen in her hand.
My whole body flexed. I shifted in my seat, frantic for some sign of where Ivan and Tatiana had gone. Ivan’s silver Audi rumbled into view behind the parked cars ahead of me. He turned at the end of the lot and drove around directly in front of me with Tatiana in the passenger seat.
Neither of them looked over at the girl behind the paper on the bench next to them as they passed. I held my breath. I waited until the Audi drove out of sight. I waited some more.
Get up! Go! I shouted at myself. I stood and immediately flipped up the hood of my shirt. I tugged on the hood trying to pull it right over my face. I marched back to the bus loop as quickly as I could without running.
What could the Krylovs want with Gemma? Leverage on me? Did she have a variation too? The parts of me not compelled forward with fear desperately wanted to turn back around and find my sister. I couldn’t risk it though. What if the Krylovs came back? I’d have to get Ilya and return in disguise until steps away from Gemma’s personal door.
I paced inside a glass shelter until a number 14 bus reappeared and admitted the waiting passengers. I kept my hood up on the bus for the entire trip back to the downtown eastside.
I sped along Hastings to the Bella Maria, hood first, head down, until I reached the safety of the hotel stairwell. I paused for a moment to catch my breath. I took deep, calming breaths. I had not been followed, I was sure of it. Nothing had actually happened, apart from sighting Ivan and Tatiana. If I could lie down for a moment, I would be able to tell the others without freaking out at the same time.
I slid my key card through the slot in my hotel room’s door handle and pushed into the room. Ilya and Faith were entwined on her bed, their partially clothed bodies moving above the covers. They kept kissing for a beat until the sound of the door registered and they broke apart.
I felt the look of shock frozen on my face. They both looked at me with similar expressions. I turned around and closed the door behind me. I crossed the hall and knocked on the guys’ door.
“Use your card!” shouted Cole.
“It’s me. Irina. Let me in!”
Chapter 6
“Back already?” Cole sat lounging in the room’s only armchair, lazily clicking an old TV remote and working his way up and down the channels.
Jonah slept soundly in his bed.
“I saw Ivan and Tatiana,” I said breathlessly.
“What!” Cole shouted, then hastily glanced at Jonah, paused and lowered his voice. “Are you sure it was them?”
“Yes. Not at first though. Ivan looks like he’s got road rash on his face. His arm is hurt too. Tatiana is still perfect though.”
Cole’s features furrowed with concern. He massaged his face with both hands as though trying to erase my report from his memory.
Ilya and Faith came through the door to find Cole and me face to face in front of the kitchenette sink.
“This looks intense,” said Faith with an air of mild amusement.
Ilya looked anxious and said nothing.
“While I watched Gemma’s building, I saw Ivan and Tatiana, not my sister.” I shifted from one foot to the other, unable to stand still.
“What! How? Why?” blurted Faith, wide-eyed.
“What could they possibly still want with your sister?” said Ilya. He shoved a hand into his scruffy hair.
“I have no idea, but they walked out after I’d been watching for about an hour. I never saw Gemma, but they had to be in her room if they were there the whole time I was.”
“Or they were stalking her too,” said Cole with a disapproving look. Faith shoved his shoulder with no effect.
“Do you think they could have been looking for me? For us?” I asked.
“It’s possible.” Ilya looked out the window as though searching for something on the horizon.
“If he knows we’re here though, waiting for us at your sister’s dorm room is a pretty long shot,” said Cole.
“Maybe your sister is a variant too and he wants her for research,” said Faith.
I gasped.
“Don’t make this worse than it is,” said Cole with an eye-roll.
“Gemma is Irina’s half-sister–on the wrong side. It’s not likely the girl has any variant genes,” said Ilya. “No, I think the most sensible explanation is that my father wanted to personally check up on Rubin’s handiwork. He’s probably making sure Gemma has no memory of Irina. It’s a blessing you never made contact with her.”
“Your aunt, I mean, our aunt, what exactly is her variation?” I asked Ilya.
“She isn’t a variant, not as far as I know.” Ilya shrugged his shoulders.
“How is that possible?”
“The magic of genetics,” said Cole.
“Both our parents were freaks,” said Faith gesturing between her and Cole with her thumb.
“Yeah, as far as I know, our mom was normal,” I said, looking at Ilya.
“You can’t be one hundred percent certain she had no variation whatsoever,” said Ilya.
I sat down at the small hotel dining table and stared out the window at the rundown walk-ups across the street. It struck me for the first time that Ilya never knew our mother because he had never met her. I’d been mourning my mom, along with the rest of my family and my life. Ilya had nothing but an idea to mourn.
“Since everyone is here again, it’s a good time for me to give you guys the rundown on what I found on this Kingston guy’s thumb drive.” Faith stepped backwards to address the room.
“I’m actually going for a walk,” said Ilya, looking right past Faith. “I want to see if I can find our almost acquaintance from yesterday. The skin-changer I thought I heard. Whatever you guys think is useful, put it on the whiteboard.”
Ilya picked up his wallet off the counter and left. I wondered if he was too uncomfortable to listen to my thoughts and questions about his morning with Faith. Jonah stayed in his deep sleep. I reached out for one of the flimsy old dining chairs, turned it around, and sat with the back t
o my chest.
“Well then, what’s the scoop?” Cole clapped his hands and rubbed them with an inquisitive look. Jonah sat up in bed and I frowned at Cole.
“Kingston had reports about his own progress with variant plant strains. They were being cultivated alongside a strain of variant bees.” Faith pulled a strip of fabric from her pocket and tied back her dreads.
“He said something about bees. They were gone when Ilya and I got there, but I saw them in my vision. They were beautiful, like covered in an oil slick rainbow,” I said.
“Well, Kingston didn’t keep any data on the bees themselves, at least not in the files on his thumb drive.” Faith leaned back against the dresser and gripped the top.
“They were probably designed to pollinate his variant plants,” said Cole.
“Never mind the bees. Kingston did have a few quarterly reports from some guy named Dr. Peter Waynesburg. Kingston included a word processing file summarizing the reports,” said Faith.
“Did you read any of it?” said Jonah, still blinking into wakefulness.
“I haven’t picked through Waynesburg’s report data, but I read Kingston’s summary. It read like an open letter to anyone who might get their hands on his thumb drive. The reason he’s got Dr. Waynesburg’s reports is because they were both being blackmailed and wanted to find a way to burn Ivan, especially if one or both of them got killed,” said Faith.
“I’m sure Kingston didn’t have Irina’s gift, but to know you’re working for a man–or group–that might kill you. And to have your fear realized. What a horrible way to go,” said Jonah.
The Compendium Page 4
