by G. R. Lyons
“Because you had many people to teach you the art when you were younger.”
“Back in Oaks Pass?”
“And…elsewhere.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “I was here in New Haven before?”
“Nearby,” he said carefully. “Many years ago. You were probably too young then to remember it, anyway.”
“How do you know me from before?”
“Asenna, you know I can't answer that.”
Stifling a groan of frustration, Asenna nodded to herself and looked away, thinking.
“Chief?”
“Yes?”
“I want to go back to Oaks Pass.”
He was silent for so long that Asenna looked over at him to make sure he'd heard her.
“You know that's out of the question,” he murmured.
“But why?” she asked, throwing her hands up.
“You know why,” he said, sitting forward and leveling a look at her. “The doctors don't want anyone else who knows you to try jogging your memory, in case it only confuses you.”
“But what if that's exactly what I need? What if someone could come along and tell me, 'Hi, your name is such-and-such, you were born on this day to these people, and your favorite food is something or other', and it just brings everything back to me?”
“Asenna–”
“Please, Chief. I need this. I need to know who I am. Or at the very least, I need to find some fucking answers to these cases, and going to Oaks Pass could be the key to both.”
Chief studied her face for a long moment before he answered, “I'll think about it.” She started to complain, and he held up a hand. “I'm not going to discuss it with you any more right now. I said I'll think about it.”
Asenna crossed her arms over her chest and let out a sigh. “Yes, sir.”
They lapsed into silence, until the chief stood and said, “I'm going for a coffee. Would you like anything?”
“No.”
“Would you like Crawford to come sit with you while I'm gone?”
“No, I'd rather be alone.”
“Very well.”
The chief strode out of the room, and as the door swung shut, she saw Crawford jump up from a seat in the hallway, but the chief held out a hand and he sat back down.
Asenna took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, then uncrossed her arms, the position uncomfortable with the IV connected to her wrist. She twitched the cord out of the way, and looked at the ID bracelet that lay right below it.
Shyth, Asenna, the bracelet read.
Growling, she tore it off and threw it across the room.
* * *
WHEN ASENNA was allowed to leave the hospital, Charlie got her settled back into her room at the agency, watched her fall into a deep sleep after taking her pain medication, and went to talk to the chief.
Quietly closing the door, he strode down the balcony to the chief's office, but found the door locked. He peeked through the windows into the room, but the lights were off and the room was clearly unoccupied.
Charlie headed downstairs and up to the receptionist's desk, hanging back while Lani was greeting a client and directing him back to one of the agent's desks.
“Hello again, Crawford,” she said with a smile as the client stepped away. “How's the Spirit doing?”
“She's sleeping,” he said. “Is Chief here? His office is locked.”
She shook her head. “He said he had an errand to run, and he was going to stop at the Gateway before he came back.”
“The Gateway?”
Lani nodded. “His property, up in the hills outside the city.”
Charlie flinched. “I never knew he had property out here.”
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “From way back. I followed him out there once to pick up some friends of his. It's a beautiful piece of land.”
“Can you tell me where it is?”
Lani gave him a considering look, then typed something rapidly into her computer and swiveled the monitor around to face him.
“Out the old forest road,” she said, pointing at a route highlighted on a map on the screen. “You can't miss it.”
“Thank you, Lani,” he said, taking a step away.
“Oh, Crawford?”
He turned back. “Yeah?”
She tapped something else on the screen and tossed him a transmitter. “You're not getting there by foot. Car three.”
Charlie pocketed the transmitter. “Thanks, Lani.”
With a quick wave, Charlie spun on his heel and headed out to the agency's garage, car three unlocking itself as he approached. He slid into the driver's seat, pressed the transmitter to the ignition, and the car came to life, pulling itself out of its spot and smoothly gaining the street, automatically heading to the address Lani had keyed into it.
Charlie sat back and enjoyed the ride.
He left the city proper and headed toward the hills that surrounded the valley in which New Haven sat. The car sped along, winding its way past lush green fields and farmlands before rising up toward the wooded hillsides.
The expansive view became obscured as the road dove beneath the trees, the sunlight flickering in and out of view between the leaves. Charlie glanced at the navigation screen and back up at the road, waiting as the car turned itself up a driveway and slowed down as it made a steep climb.
In a break in the trees, the car came to a stop before a large house, and Charlie saw the chief's car already parked there before the garage. He got out and peeked into the house, but found it locked, so he wandered the grounds, admiring the view as he searched for the chief.
Behind the house, and slightly hidden by the trees, Charlie lurched to a stop at the sight of a starglass Gate nestled against the hillside.
Benash sat before it, one knee drawn up with his arm draped across it.
“I'm not sure what to do,” the chief said to himself. “Sometimes I wonder if–”
He cut off and looked back over his shoulder as Charlie stepped on a branch.
“Seven hells, Crawford,” the chief said, looking startled.
“Sorry, Dad,” Charlie said, continuing toward him and taking a seat on the grass at his side.
“What are you doing here?”
“I–” Charlie began, then frowned, looking up at the Gate. “I wanted to talk to you about something. It's escaped me now.” He paused, shaking his head. “You never told me about this place.”
Benash snorted a laugh. “I don't tell you a lot of things.”
“Dad?”
Benash went silent, gazing up at the Gate. Charlie watched him out of the corner of his eye, seeing the tightness in the chief's expression, and wondering what past darkness was haunting his mind at that moment.
“I could have gone back at any time,” Benash murmured, almost to himself. “Back to Tanas.” He nodded up at the glittering starglass portal. “This Gate goes to a mountainside there, its partner Gate hidden away amongst the trees, secret and forgotten. Her grave is there, not far away, in the middle of a clearing, where the rising suns can shine down upon it.”
Charlie kept silent, watching and listening as Benash went on: “I wanted to go back so many times. To sit by her grave. To share another sunsrise with her. But I just couldn't do it. She wouldn't have wanted me dwelling on the past, or setting foot in that awful place again. She gave me freedom but never got to know freedom herself. I couldn't throw that gift away by turning my back on this place. Of course, that was all long before she…”
He trailed off, glancing self-consciously at Charlie, and cleared his throat. Charlie wondered what he'd been about to say but thought better of asking.
“Still, I kept coming up here,” Benash continued. “I couldn't let go of her. The grief never seemed to stop, and I still couldn't quite say goodbye, even though I'd managed to finally leave her side. I couldn't quite admit that she was really gone. She wasn't, really, but I didn't know that yet–”
He cut off again, and Charlie gave him
a questioning look, but Benash just glanced away, his hands tightening into fists.
“The last time I came here for any length of time was after Saira's mother died,” Benash went on. “There was no broken heart to heal, but I still felt lost. I didn't know where else to go. I had no idea how to raise a daughter on my own.”
Charlie held his breath, listening, not wanting to interrupt Benash while he was finally opening up about things he'd never mentioned before. He sat very still, waiting, hoping that the chief would go on.
“But standing here that day,” he finally continued, “looking at the Gate, the need for Vorena and the grief of her loss hit me harder than it ever had.”
Benash fell silent again, his jaw tight as he looked into the past. Charlie waited, trying to think of something to say, but before he got a chance, Benash whirled on him and grabbed him by the shoulders.
“Don't ever let her go,” he insisted, his gaze intense. “Do you hear me? I know I told you to accept that Saira was gone but…I was wrong to say so. Don't ever let her go, and don't ever give up. We will find this man, somehow, and someday this will all be over.”
With that, Benash shot to his feet and walked away, pacing through the trees with one hand on his forehead. Charlie watched him for a few minutes, then silently went back to his car, leaving Benash to his grief and his worries, and thinking over his own.
Chapter 12
ASENNA HAD died.
Died.
That was the thought foremost in her mind as she woke from her nap after getting back from the hospital. She found herself alone in her little apartment, vaguely aware of voices coming from the cubicles downstairs, and couldn't get that thought out of her mind.
Even if they hadn't told her she'd died on the table and been revived, she would have known.
She remembered it. She remembered looking down, seeing herself, lying there dead while the doctors raced to bring her back to life.
Remembered a split second of recognition of her true identity before her soul got sucked back into her body and her heartbeat started up again.
But now that recognition was gone.
Asenna squeezed her eyes shut, trying to put herself back in that moment, trying to recall everything she noticed as she looked down at herself. It was right there, right within reach.
She clenched her hands into fists, held her breath, and tried. She tried, and tried, grasping for that moment, desperate to remember that split second of clarity, desperate to remember who she really was.
She let out her breath in a gasp, sucked in air again, and held it, trying again. She saw her body, the doctors all around her, focused on her face, and…
And nothing. It just wouldn't come.
“Argh!” she growled, throwing back the sheets. She sat up, then sucked in a breath as the pain hit her again. Forcing herself to slow down, she eased herself up and swung her legs off the side of the bed, bracing herself with her hands on either side while she hung her head and waited for the pain to subside.
Damn it all, she'd known. She'd known who she really was. And now it was gone again.
Asenna was across the room before she realized she'd even decided to move. She threw open the closet door, snatched up her shoulder holster, and pulled out one of her guns. Her face felt expressionless as she released the magazine, checked to make sure it was full, slammed it home, chambered a round, and put the gun to her temple.
She held the gun there, feeling nothing. Her hands were perfectly steady as she stood there, looking at nothing in particular, wondering dispassionately if she could just do it: put a bullet in her brain, end it all, end the nightmares, end the visions, and get her real identity back, even if it was only as a ghost.
Her heartbeat was slow, her breathing even, and her entire body felt at ease as she kept the gun pressed to her head. She put her finger on the trigger, and felt no fear.
“Bang,” she whispered, lowering the gun with a sigh.
Asenna glanced over at the empty recliner, thinking, then whirled around, shoved the gun back into its holster, slammed the closet door shut, and rushed from the room. She went downstairs, ducking her head as she moved along the back wall, and knocked on Dr. Galvin's door.
“Come in,” she heard, and quickly opened the door and slipped inside. The doctor was at his desk, typing something, but looked up at her with a smile. “Ah, Asenna. What can I do for you?”
She hesitated, keeping her back to the door. “Do you have a moment?”
“Of course.” The doctor pushed back his chair and gestured at the seating area where they held their sessions. Asenna paced for a moment while Dr. Galvin settled into his chair, and he waited silently until she took a seat on the couch across from him. “What can I help you with?”
Asenna looked down at the coffee table between them, and saw a stack of magazines that weren't perfectly straight.
Don't do it. They're fine. Just leave it.
She tore her gaze away, but the crooked stack pulled at her attention.
Don't.
She looked at her hands instead, half expecting to see the gun there even though she knew she'd put it away.
“Is it normal to sometimes feel like you're on the brink of madness, and just want to let go?”
Asenna blinked and looked up to see Dr. Galvin watching her with a neutral expression. That wasn't what she'd intended to say, but it had spilled right out of her.
The doctor seemed to consider her words, then asked, “Can you describe what you mean? What goes on in your mind at those moments? What do you feel?”
Asenna looked back down at her hands, but the magazines drew her eyes back. She felt her hands clench into fists, and forced her eyes to them, thinking, memories of death and identity mixing with memories of visions and nightmares.
“It's like…” she began, “I can feel this ledge, and sometimes I'm so close, and I think it would be so easy to just let go, let go and fall. Just give up and let madness take over. Let go of reality. Give in to the voices and the visions.”
Dr. Galvin asked, “What does that place look like? Or feel like? Can you describe it for me?”
Asenna glanced at the magazines, tightened her fists, and closed her eyes. “It's dark, pitch black, but it's blindingly bright at the same time. Gods, that makes no sense. It's just…It's tempting and terrifying. It's emptiness and everything, all at the same time. It seems like I could let go and be free, or let go and become completely lost, and be trapped there forever.”
The doctor was silent for so long that Asenna finally opened her eyes and looked up at him. He asked, “Is that why you fight the visions?”
Asenna frowned. “I don't fight the visions. I can't. They just come and I can't stop them.”
Dr. Galvin raised his eyebrows slightly. “Are you sure you don't fight them?”
“No, I–” Asenna shook her head, then stopped, and stared at the ground.
Make it stop! Let me out!
She looked at the magazines, her fingers twitching in her lap. Shoving her hands between her legs and pressing her thighs together, she shook her head.
“I'm sorry,” she ground out. “Can you repeat the question?”
“Why do you fight the visions?” the doctor asked in that maddeningly soothing voice of his.
“I don't–”
Make it stop!
“Because they're not me!” she yelled. She gasped out a breath, gave the doctor an apologetic look, and continued in a softer voice, “I already don't know who I am. I don't want to be anyone else. So many. So many voices. They just never stop. I can't let them in, because then the other voice is there, fighting to get out–”
“What other voice?” the doctor asked. “Asenna?”
She glanced at the magazines, moved her hands under her thighs instead, and squeezed her eyes shut. “The other voice, in my head. It tries to come out whenever I have a vision. It sounds like me, in my head, always fighting to get through. But I'd have to let go and fall. But what if
I did, and I got trapped there? I barely know Asenna, but what if I lost even that? What if I let go, let the visions consume me, and never found my way back out?”
Dr. Galvin was silent for another long moment, then asked, “And what if letting go gave you all the answers you seek?”
Asenna's head snapped up, and she looked at him with wide eyes while her breath hitched in her chest.
“What if you embraced your gift,” the doctor went on, “instead of fighting it? What if, instead of falling into madness, you fell into clarity? You did say the ledge was both darkness and light. So why focus on the darkness?”
Asenna shook her head. “Because it's not real.”
“Isn't it?” the doctor asked, his voice low and calming. “The attacks are really happening, the visions are really coming to you. Isn't that real?”
She started to shake her head again, her eyes drawn to the magazines while she tried to think of something to say.
Don't do it. Leave it. You're just fine, damn it. Just leave them alone.
“What if you did just let go and–”
Asenna jumped up, straightened the magazines, and stepped back to the couch, falling onto it and drawing her knees up all in one motion.
Dr. Galvin gave her a questioning look.
“They weren't straight,” she muttered.
“And how long were you fighting that impulse?” he asked her, his tone full of the knowledge that she'd been struggling with it the entire time she'd been there.
Asenna hugged her knees and looked away.
“Asenna, there's nothing wrong with wanting order, wanting control of your environment. Why do you fight those urges?”
“Because I feel like it means I'm crazy or something,” she snapped. “And I've got more than enough of that already.”
“Asenna.”
She took a few breaths, and finally looked up at him when he didn't go on.
The doctor folded his hands in his lap and said, “True, you can't stop the visions. You have no control over that. It's something you were born with, and something that you can't simply…cut out of yourself, if you will. But you can embrace this gift. You can accept this aspect of yourself and do so much good with it. But you can also allow yourself to take control in other areas of your life. What if you let go, accept the visions, and allow yourself to control other things? Allow yourself to keep things straight and organized and clean? Allow yourself to see patterns and numbers and connections rather than actively avoiding them? What if you risked the chance of darkness for the possibility of light? Risked what you think of as madness for the possibility of regaining your true self?” Asenna opened her mouth to say something, and the doctor held up his hand. “I'm not saying right now, or at all, but it's something to think about. Just consider it, at least. Why do you think I insist on you expressing your identity in our sessions? You're fighting so hard against your gift. What if that's making things worse rather than better?”
