by Brindi Quinn
Rye swiveled his head. He hadn’t noticed before, but there was a person there. A person with blue-tinted hair, boxy glasses, and pale skin. Rye’s legs threatened to give way, for there, staring into a book with a vacant expression on his face, was Foster: the boy from whom he’d spawned.
“Holy tomato sandwich,” sputtered the dumbfounded Second.
Nero Yondo wheeze-laughed again. “You’ve got pep. And genuineness. I see that her tastes have changed. That’s good. I didn’t prefer her with the wily sort.”
Rye batted at his ear to make sure he’d heard that right. Foster was the wily sort? He examined the Main again. That didn’t seem likely. The guy looked like a total wimp.
He was going to ask for elaboration, but when his eyes befell the window behind the influential man, he let out a cry. “No! Dang it all! Don’t tell me I’ve been out for-”
“She should be there by now,” said Nero. “Sorry. You’ll have to miss it.”
“No! I can’t miss it! Er- eh-heh. You know about ‘it’?” He squinted. “Are you really Tide’s dad?”
Nero nodded.
Rye didn’t see much of a resemblance. In the eyes, maybe. “Did she finally get a chance to talk to you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Have a seat.” Nero pointed to the chair opposite his desk. “There are things we should discuss if I’m to leave my daughter in your care.”
“In my care?”
Nero nodded again.
Rye didn’t know what else to do. His mind was flaking off in pieces. He was in a room with Tide’s father and Foster? He sat. But then he stood. “Okay, just give me a sec,” he said. “I have to do this.” With that, he walked over to Foster, stuck out his finger, and poked the gray boy in the cheek. It felt real. Squishy. Warm. “Huh,” said Rye. He sported the relieved expression of someone who’d just survived a bear attack. “Okay, I’m ready.” He took seat once more across from the man who was Tide Yondo’s father.
“For starters,” said the king, “let me tell you exactly what the girl you know as Tide IS.”
~
Y waited at the bottom of the Gustway, every once in a while spotting the occasional flash of light from within the shrouded mound. It hadn’t taken this long the last time Tide had climbed. Then again, last time had been clear. And last time she’d been alone.
Stories above, Jobe followed Tide closely. The princess grabbed onto a metal post and used it to shimmy upwards to a rusty sign that carried the word: Yield. From there, she pounced to a flat portion of cement wall. She clung to it spiderlike and scaled with ease.
Jobe scratched his sweaty head. She was like a freakin’ monkey! It was incredible! But he couldn’t’ think about that. The top was getting nearer. That was where he’d do it. Once they were nearly at the top, he’d switch off his light, and then . . .
~
“What?!” cried Rye. “So it IS true?!”
Nero had just divulged a most important secret. The very secret Jobe was still trying to hide from Tide.
“How?” said Rye. “How were you able to do something like that?! And why doesn’t she have a-”
“Foster was an intern here.”
“I remember that, but-”
“That photograph you found?” said Nero. “The one Foster left for you? It was taken at one of our out-of-city facilities, and the hands that took it . . . were mine. You see, after my wife died, and Tide had her incident-” Nero stopped himself. Incident? That was too cold. He corrected, “Once Ryon was born, he agreed to become a patient of mine.”
“Patient?” said Rye.
“Test subject.”
“Oh.” Rye brought a hand to his exposed neck.
Nero continued, “He and his boyfriend, Chuck, aided us greatly in our research into the nature of the soul.”
“Wait, Chuck and Ryon helped you?”
“That’s right,” said Nero. “After Foster and Chuck became friends, Chuck was always hanging around the lab. Quite a headache those two were. Chuck more so than Foster. More than a few times security found him with a girl or two in some sealed off area.” Nero chuckled. “But that only lasted until he met Ryon. After he met Ryon, he became . . . committed. Anyhow, once Chuck found out that Ryon was willingly allowing us to test him, Chuck protested, but Ryon insisted, so Chuck helped out where he could. I’m sure the boy still regrets doing so.”
“Why would he regret it?” asked Rye.
“Ryon was a unique Second. Most Seconds wish death upon their Mains, but unbeknownst to Chuck, Ryon wanted to SAVE Tide. He felt very strongly that she should survive, and he gave everything he could to that end. However, none of it mattered. Tide still faded. While Foster, Ryon, and I searched diligently for a cure, Tide was fading away. Day by day, she was fading away. So I did the only thing I could. I created something that could help her.”
“Your big invention?” said Rye, trying to follow.
Nero nodded. “A drill. But contrary to what the media thinks, it wasn’t just any drill. It was a soul drill.”
In spite of previous efforts, Rye didn’t follow at all. “What the heck is a ‘soul drill’?”
Nero ignored the question. “Tell me, Rye,” he said. “What are Seconds?”
“We’re . . .” Rye gritted his teeth. “Materializations of split personalities.”
“Wrong,” said Nero, wagging a finger. “Very wrong. Seconds are NOT the physical forms of a person’s second personality. They are their own unique personalities. They are the manifestations of a soul’s next stop along the path of rebirth.”
It was more of the mumbo-jumbo Rye had heard from the strange boy at the bazaar. “Path of rebirth? Look, I don’t really buy into all of that-”
“But it’s very true, Rye. I assure you. Bororore was a substance that was to remain buried. A substance with surreptitious, forbidden properties. Bringing it into our atmosphere created a dimensional flux that changed the very flow of birth and death. An anomaly that allows for the process of rebirth to occur BEFORE a person actually dies. Do you understand what that means, Rye?”
Rye didn’t get it entirely, but he was starting to understand. He was beginning to see what Nero was trying to say, and it was a hopeful thing; for if it were true, it would mean that he wasn’t a shell of a person at all. It would mean he was –
“YOU are the person your Main was meant to be born as in his next life,” said Nero. “And Ryon is the person Tide was meant to be born as in her next life. And the reason that you and Ryon look so similar is because in your next life the two of you were to be born together.”
Together? Rye understood. Even if he didn’t fully believe. He understood. “You mean Ryon and I were supposed to be-”
“That’s right, Rye. Twins.”
~
The top of the peak was coming. Tide could feel it. The stifling air was thinning. Jobe could feel it too.
“Wait, Ink!” he called. “Let’s do it together.” The blade in his pocket jiggled in anticipation of what was to come.
“Okay,” huffed Tide. She stopped in front of a catawampus billboard and smiled down at him weakly. “Sounds good.” She waited for him to catch up.
“Dang, girl,” he said when he reached her. “Wish it was lighter out so I could see all your fancy tricks.”
Tide wiped her brow. “You know something, Jobe?” she said. “This feels good.”
“What, being close to me in the dark?” cooed Jobe. The flirty comment was to distract Ink while he switched off his headlight.
Tide gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the rapid change from white to dark. It really was better with it off. “NO,” she said. “I mean the climb. Even if there’s a chance it won’t amount to anything, it still feels good to be proactive, you know? It might be stupid, but it makes me feel useful. So thanks . . . or something.” Jobe said nothing, so she continued, “For coming with me and going along with this crazy plan even though you don’t agree with it.”
>
Corrupt, the smile found its way onto the hunter’s face. “No problem.”
“One more thing,” added the unaware girl, “after all of this is over and we return to the judge with photo in hand, you’ve got to tell me more about the wild south. I went to this bazaar with Rye and-”
But Jobe wasn’t listening. “Ink.”
“Yeah?”
Without a word, he reached over and patted her wet head gently. Tide shook his mitt away. “Ugh. I really hate when you do that, Jobe. I told you, I’m not your pet.”
He brought his hand from the space above her head to the side of her cheek. This was it. The dark part of Jobe was ready. A lesser part of him was already feeling guilty, but it was a part too small to make itself known. Jaw determined, the betraying partner held his mitt at her face a moment before sliding it down to her shoulder. Tide squinted at him through the darkness.
“Uh- okay? What’s going on?”
But instead of answering, Jobe smiled his most sinister smile of all, and then he pushed her – HARD – against the billboard wall at her back.
“Ouch! What the hell?”
“Shhh.” He neared his face to hers. And his hand was pulling the short blade from his pocket.
“Quit messing around! We’re almost there! Don’t start being mean now.”
But Jobe was far past being mean. The dark part of him was in control and it wanted to hurt her. Not just emotionally this time. He was going to make her bleed. He wouldn’t let her find out the truth about herself. He’d force her to fail the mark.
He held her in place tightly against the wall. She wiggled a bit, so he pressed himself against her to hold her still as he brought the knife around her side. Tide’s eyes were wide, muted, scared, and then they were different. As Jobe pressed the knife into the softest part of her cheek, they turned turquoise – electrifyingly turquoise.
“KYAH!” Tide screamed as disqualifying drops of blood fell out of the thin slice, but Jobe ignored her. He kept the blade pressed against her face. Jobe swallowed a nervous swallow that made his Adam’s apple bob because he knew:
Those were Ryon’s eyes.
They were definitely his! Again, Jobe – who had once been called Charles by a boy who’d never been born – was reaffirmed that the turquoise-eyed Second was still in there. Despite what the fake Tide Yondo was, Ryon was inside of her still.
“Ryon?” he said, quiet and hopeful.
Tide let out a small cry.
Jobe couldn’t look away. He’d done what he’d needed to do. Ink was bleeding and the cut was obvious enough the judge would notice when they went to report to him. Tide Yondo wouldn’t find out anything compromising. The biggest secret was still safe.
Feeling a sweet release, Jobe stared into the eyes that were Ryon’s and let the blade fall, bouncing, down the mountainside. Tide was shaking. Confused. Hurt. But her eyes? Her eyes were confident. Jobe brushed his thumb that was wet with her blood along her chin. And then he did something he hadn’t counted on. Something unplanned. Something impulsive.
He kissed her.
The hunter kissed the mouth that was Tide’s and pretended it was Ryon’s.
~
“Tide’s my SISTER?!” That was worse than the worst news Rye had ever heard. If Tide was his sister, then all of those things he wanted to do to her were . . . “NO!” He grabbed at his hair in the ultimate display of insanity. “I’m an ultra perv!”
Nero chuckled. “NO. Tide isn’t your sister. However, Ryon WAS meant to be your brother.”
Rye dropped his head. “I don’t get it at all.”
“Allow me to ramble, if I may,” said Nero.
Rye knocked his head against the inventor’s desk. Knock! Knock! Twice for yes.
“When a body dies, a person’s soul lives on – that is, if it has not been corrupted by the evils of the world. If soul remains pure enough, it will be reborn into a new body after its old one fades away. In this way, each of us has already lived countless lives and will continue to live countless more lives until the day the cosmos dies. That’s rebirth. Do you understand?”
Knock! Knock!
Nero went on, “During our research into the nature of the soul, we learned that souls are on a journey of upwards intimacy. In a nutshell, we found that soul mates DO exist; and while rare, it’s actually a provable phenomenon. We were even able to map their trends. Still with me?”
Knock! Knock!
“Here’s how it works: If a person becomes connected to someone strongly enough – if a sacrificial and intense love develops between two people – their souls may become mated. Through each rebirth thereafter, if the souls continue to find each other, the intimate bond between the two will become greater and greater until reaching their ultimate goal.”
Rye peeked up from the desk. “And what’s the goal?”
“To merge completely. Twins are the last stop on the mated souls’ journey before that merging.”
Rye sat up and glanced over at Foster, who was still very vacant. “Okaaaay,” he said. “Then how does all of that pertain to me and Tide and Foster and Ryon?”
Nero rubbed his weary face. The conversation was running long. “Your and Tide’s destinies are intertwined, as they have been for centuries. You are destined to always be together. In this life, it was Tide and Foster. In the next, it was meant to be you and Ryon. But because of the dimensional flux caused by Bororore, your soul paths have become off. To put it simply, you were never supposed to meet Tide.”
Rye teetered. Nero noticed, and he hurried to give an explanation that would pull the Second back.
“Concentrate, Rye. And listen very carefully. Just because you weren’t supposed to meet her, doesn’t make it a mistake that you did. Humans have shifted the balance of the planet. They’ve changed the properties of the physical world. Because of that, the rules of rebirth cannot be looked at in the same way anymore either. I’d even go so far as to say that the soul paths of everyone will only be shifted from here on out.”
Not a mistake. That did the job. Rye was grounded once more. But though he was solid, he was filled only with questions. He said,
“I follow what you’re trying to say with the rebirth and the fluxes and all that jazz, but I still don’t understand how it applies to us, because if the Tide I met really is what you say she is, then how does any of it make sense?”
“That, my boy, is where the second task of my important invention comes into play.”
The demon’s ears rang. It seemed Nero Yondo was talking about him.
~
“YAH!” Tide pushed the crazy hunter from her body. What the hell was wrong with him?! He’d just deliberately cut her cheek with a pocketknife and then he’d kissed her?! She landed a stinging slap on the corrupt boy’s face.
“Ink!” he yelled. “No! I-”
But he didn’t know what to say. He’d meant every moment of it. In the absence of a reasonable excuse, Tide pushed him again. He reached for her, but then something happened. The plank of old metal beneath Tide’s feet gave way and she fell, careening, down the mountain of scrap.
The demon made of Bororore, the miracle fuelstone, charged from the darkness to catch her.
Meanwhile, a boy that’d never been born was running. He was running as quickly as his legs could take him to the place where the mountain was. In the middle of his discussion with Nero Yondo, the king had seen a flash of something in the back of his mind’s eye. A flash of something that had been enough to send Rye off, sprinting, to the Gustway Peak.
Tide was in danger.
At the scrap heap, Tide’s body was falling. The black thing had come and wound itself around her waist. It had slithered from its hiding place to catch her soul and rip it away, leaving her body in the care of another. A person close to her. A person with rights to her physical form.
A person by the name of Nero Yondo.
“Move, Tide!” he said in an inaudible voice that only she could hear.
&nbs
p; The princess’ body did just that. That was all it could do. It didn’t have a choice.
Foster, asleep on the couch, knew better than anyone that when a Main was in full control of its shared soul, it could send its Second wherever it wished. Not only had he used it on Rye countless times, he was also the person who’d long ago shared that tidbit with a disillusioned inventor whose daughter was on the verge of death. Now that Nero Yondo’s second ‘daughter’ was on a similar verge, the king used that knowledge. He used it in his own amped-up way. He wouldn’t just give her a destination; he would control every part of her. Because he could. Because she was special.
Like he had when she’d been in danger at the bird-swarmed plain, he forced her to move. He forced the hands that were Tide’s to grab at the mountain; to claw for a saving ledge; to use all of that inherited climber’s prowess. But none of that worked. Even with years of climbing experience and intuition being fueled through Nero into her, her body failed to get footing. Still she clawed. Still she fell – until caught by a long, thin rod that had once been part of a telephone pole.
The pain from the gut-hitting blow would’ve been enough to knock the girl out, had she been present; but she wasn’t. She was wrapped in sweet, stifling darkness, and Nero Yondo was ordering her body to grab hold. Compelling the vacant vessel to grip its slippery mitts around the pole.
At last it worked.
But it was too much for the weak king. The dark lawyer had said that time was nearly up. It seemed he’d been right. Wheezing, Nero pulled himself back into his own body and wrote a final note for the daughter he loved so much.
. . .
Across the city, Tide woke from darkness into more darkness. Wet fog surrounded her. A distant voice, faint and shrill, reached the place where she was.
