SIX
Ren sat at tea time the next day feeling a bit like she was in detention. Mariel said nothing. She didn't even look in Ren's direction. Of course Colette told her about last night. It was hard to pass off a bandage and a hole in the hand like "oh, nothing". So not only did Mariel know, but she also knew it was all Ren's fault. She gulped, trying to swallow her guilt with the first sip of apple spice. She almost dumped the whole cup down her shirt when Mariel finally broke the silence.
"Colette told me what happened," Mariel spoke first, making eye contact with Ren second. "Don't blame her."
Ren looked surprised. Blame her? How could she? She shook her head.
"No; never." Ren smiled, putting a hand on Colette's knee.
"Good," Mariel smiled. "Because the two of you," she gestured to Ren and Joe, "have a new task ahead of you."
They both sat forward, registering each other's surprise.
"You are both to start taking defense classes. The next time trouble arises, I want you adequately prepared to handle it." She looked at Ren as she said it. "Bravado will only take you so far."
"So, what are we learning?
**
Ren sat on the sidelines, her own trepidation forgotten as she tried - and failed - to stifle her laughter while Josephine yelped and slid across the floor on her back. Trepidation rounded back to her as Mariel turned to her and took a fighter's stance.
It had been three, maybe four moves before Joe was spun around and slid out of the sparring area. It was hard to tell, Mariel moved fast. Faster than anyone might assume a woman of grace and propriety might move, anyway.
Ren turned, hoping to see someone else Mariel might have been gesturing to. The rest of the people in the gym were busy with their own workouts. No one seemed to care that Ren was about to be pummeled by a living piece of history.
She took a deep breath and stepped over the blue line that separated contenders from spectators. Her hands went up, and she tried to think of the long list of tips Mariel had given her and Joe over the past week.
What did she say? Arms in front of you, elbows at your side, feet at the -
Mariel shuffled her feet, darting forward and sweeping Ren's legs out from under her before she registered what was happening. She hit the padded floor, her spine crackling all the way down as her wind abandoned her.
- at the ready. Damn. Ren took the hand extended to her and hoisted herself back up to her feet. She shook off the temporary dizziness and tried to focus. The hands came up again and this time, Ren cleared her mind. She focused on Mariel.
Her blonde tresses were tied in a topknot; only a few wisps were out of place as she stood at the ready. Her gi draped perfectly. When Mariel moved, it moved with her, not straining against her body like Ren's yoga pants and tank top. If she actually started getting into this she'd -
Ren saw Mariel kick, but it was too late, she was already moving when Ren reacted. She tried to put her leg up, to deflect the kick, or at least lessen the pain. Mariel twisted with the kick, letting it land, her body still turning. Again, she reacted too late to prevent it, but Ren tried to soften the blow by getting her forearms in the way of Mariel's impending fists. She winced against the impact, then felt her arms cast aside. Mariel smiled as she grabbed the straps of Ren's tank top. Panic fluttered under her purple bangs, she had no defense against being hurled across the ring.
Time slowed down as Mariel pulled back, building momentum. First, Mariel leapt in a decided direction, then, like a poor coyote tied to a boulder, Ren knew she would come hurtling after Mariel once the slack ran out. There was more of a tell in this motion, however. She saw it happen as a chain reaction. Mariel shifted her weight, muscles tensed and her fingers tightened on Ren's clothing, then her face changed. Her jaw tightened and her eyes brightened a little. Ren wondered if she wasn't just a little sadistic using this as a first full lesson. She wondered if she wasn't a little masochistic herself for going along with it.
Her body fell into the undertow of momentum, and desperation took over.
Ren's brain had accepted that this was going to happen; her body decided that one last effort was in order. As she passed Mariel, her hands instinctively latched onto the gi. A leg went out awkwardly, seeking a counterbalance against the inertia. The new information combined with the process already in motion shifted the balance and turned Ren into a pinion, pulling Mariel into a dance with her. Mariel was surprised, but only momentarily. She matched the movement, getting around it and taking them for another turn on the mat.
Ren's feet shuffled underneath her. Her shoulders were being pulled far past her center of gravity and the only thing holding her up was her handhold on Mariel's uniform. She tightened her grip, trying to keep up with the momentum. Mariel braced her feet and stopped moving. Ren held fast, mostly, her body circling Mariel's until she twisted her way to the floor. She looked up sheepishly at her instructor, as Mariel straightened her uniform.
She kneeled next to Ren with a small chuckle. "That was good. You have it in your heart to be very good."
"But?" Ren added. Because there always was one.
"But you need to get your head involved. You need discipline."
Ren nodded. That was a chief complaint throughout her life. She was too impulsive; she needed to think more. Her mouth twisted as she considered it.
“Are you sure I wouldn’t be better with a sword? Or a gun, maybe?”
Mariel shook her head. “Weapons come later. You need to be able to defend yourself by yourself first. Be your own weapon.”
“And then guns?”
Ren got her feet underneath herself as Mariel helped her up. “Guns require registration. Bows however, are relatively easy to acquire. If you ask Colette very nicely, she might train you. She is exceptionally good.”
Ren’s brow creased upward, she would not have expected unassuming Colette to be their resident Robin Hood.
Joe chimed in now, delightfully curious. “And we start with swords when?”
Mariel clapped her hands, gesturing to both girls.
"Let us start again – with the basics."
**
In the quiet moments she had to herself, Ren tried not to dwell too long on the unanswerable questions regarding her new existence. It did invade her thoughts from time to time. Realistically, at twenty-two years old, she had already cornered the market on omnipotence and invincibility - or so she'd believed. Those two false powers had been stripped away and she had been handed something very real - a second chance.
Try as she might to avoid it, Ren couldn't help but wonder what the rules were. What was her new lifespan? Was she really immortal, or just invulnerable to old age? If she died again, would she come back, or was this it?
She pulled a box down from the shelf and groaned. Her body healed faster now, that was the story. Unfortunately, the pain of healing was still just as awful as before. The abuse she took during training with Joe and Mariel was, like most things these days, nothing she had experienced previously. She was getting the hang of it though.
What Ren lacked in raw power, she made up for with her awareness. She could see the attacks coming in time to defend against them, though the actual act of defending required further practice, as evident from the screaming muscles and bruises all over her body.
As fast as her body might heal now, it was not fast enough for her liking. Ren was beginning to realize that even with forever stretched out before her, patience was not her virtue. Especially in the face of the stories and movies she'd seen. Immortality was supposed to be exciting, sexy, perhaps accompanied by a soundtrack. When she thought about what she might be missing in her early years as an immortal, her patience hung on her like a lead-lined jacket.
She shook her head in a private dismissal and clenched her teeth as she lifted the box to the work desk. Life was not always boring. In fact, the days passed pretty quickly. She had her work, her sisters, an occasional nightlife, and a working knowledge of tea that was turning in
to an addiction.
No, it wasn't what the stories promised her, but it was better than the alternative.
A growl from downstairs called her attention. She stepped out to the railing to see Joe sprawled dramatically across the couch. She lifted herself up, tugging a pillow out from underneath her and held it over her face, screaming into it.
Ren rested her elbows on the railing, smiling down at the display.
"No one can hear your drama if you're going to scream it all into the pillow."
Joe's eye peeked out over the pillow and glared at her. She mumbled loudly into the pillow again. Ren still had no idea what she was saying, but by the tone, she could take a guess.
"Look, if you're going to suffocate yourself, be my guest. But do it quietly, some of us are working."
Joe threw the pillow at her. It was nowhere near its target and they both watched it arc and flop in the middle of the common area.
"You're not funny, Ren."
"You're right, I'm hilarious."
Ren waited in the silence for a moment, then gripped the railing to push herself back toward her work. Joe growled loudly again and pounded her fist on the back of the couch.
"I don't know why we put up with these visitors. Every season, they seem to get worse. They are terrible people!" She clenched her fists, as if she was begging Ren to understand her position. Ren nodded sympathetically. She had no previous season for comparison, but she was all too aware already.
"Somewhere between the mentally vacant and the young boys with no boundaries, there has to be a balance."
"We just have to tough out the season, Joe. You said so yourself: everything will get back to normal once summer is over."
Joe sat up, waving a finger.
"That was long before the rotten little urchin, in his perfect little scout outfit and wholesome smile," Joe seethed until she lost her train of thought. She doubled back, stoking her anger again. "Oh, he was so polite with his questions, until no one was looking. He kept flipping up my skirt, Ren!"
Ren smiled, trying to nod appreciatively at the story. Inwardly, she was shaking her head at the theatrics, in spite of understanding her sister's frustration.
"He needs to have his merit badges reexamined, because I'm pretty sure that somewhere in the rulebook, it says you're not supposed to get handsy."
There was no fighting her laughter now. She almost doubled over, catching herself before she tumbled down the staircase. She pulled herself back up to the railing, making sure she was secure and balanced before carrying on.
"Handsy?" She wiped tears from her eyes, continuing the conversation through the spaces in the rails.
Joe's face burned with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment.
"He grabbed my ass, Ren," she almost yelled it. "Like he was testing melons!"
"Maybe if he was taller, he would have done that instead."
Joe paused, her eyes lighting with recognition and she threw another pillow in Ren’s direction. This one came considerably closer to the mark.
"You're awful. I am seriously traumatized and you're making jokes."
Ren collected herself and sauntered down the stairs, slowly making her way to the couch. She folded her arms around her sister, cradling her and kissed her on top of her head.
"Did he at least promise to call?"
Joe huffed, pushing herself from the embrace, doing her best to storm out of the room with what remained of her dignity.
"Fine. If you're not going to show me a little respect, I'm going to cry my troubles into a hot pocket."
"Ugh! How can you eat those?"
"Because they're delicious."
"There's something wrong with your taste buds."
"Someone's taste buds are faulty?" Colette walked out of the Mariel's office; she was reading from a notepad as she weaved around them.
"I just said I was going to have a hot pocket," the fight had begun to leave Joe.
Colette made a sound of disgust as she headed toward the kitchen.
"That's exactly what I said!"
"Both of you shut up!"
Ren followed the two women into the kitchen. Colette was filling the teakettle with water, the notepad never leaving her field of vision. Joe was weighing her options in the freezer.
"Going alright out there today?" Colette momentarily looked between the other two.
"Mostly. Good crowd. Joe's been flirting."
"I have not! Ask Mariel."
Colette raised an eyebrow at Ren, who suppressed a laugh and waved off the impending conversation. They both watched quietly with a mixture of fascination and horror as Joe prepared her hot pocket.
"I know Mariel hasn't mentioned it yet, so I want to prepare you," Colette put the notepad down, directing her attention to Ren and Joe. "She'll explain better when the time comes, but you're going to be on your own for a while. Mariel's needed out west and I'll be going with her."
"You're kidding, right?" Joe was stunned; ignoring the beep that meant the microwave was done nuking her meal. "How long?"
She shrugged a reply. "She hasn't told me much, just that it's going to happen."
Ren looked between them, feeling like she missed something vital.
"So the two of us have to run this whole place? Alone?"
Suddenly, the implications were all too clear. She felt a panic settling in. She didn't want to be alone again.
A hand on hers broke the spell. Ren looked up and met Colette's warm eyes.
"The two of you can handle this; you practically run the place already." She turned to Joe. "Stop freaking out, you're going to be fine."
"Is someone getting moved?"
Colette shook her head. "Don't get your hopes up. It's hardly time for that yet."
"Can we have the twins?"
Ren's eyes bounced back and forth, following the conversation as she waited for one to best the other at this back and forth.
"I just said -"
"I know what you said, but can we?"
"We aren't even -"
Joe grabbed Ren, squeezing her cheeks as she held her sister captive. "But look at this face. This is a face that has obviously not experienced the twins yet."
There was a hesitation, then a smirk from Colette.
"That's a yes, isn't it?"
Colette turned to the teakettle, pulling it from the stove; it had started issuing steam but she beat it to the whistle and poured a cup.
"It's probably not going to happen, either way."
"Then I call dibs." Joe was insistent, and Ren was still lost.
"Fine, you have dibs," Colette looked at Ren for a moment, then back to Joe. "You think she's ready to meet them?"
Joe forced Ren's head to nod emphatically. Colette grabbed her notepad and her teacup and started to leave the room.
"It's on your head if they pull another Sophie."
Ren stood there, a flurry of new and confusing information twisting around her brain.
Twins? Sophie? Mariel and Colette leaving the house to Joe and herself? What was going on? She turned slowly to ask Joe, but she was already skipping out of the room, audibly relishing the first taste of her microwaved treat.
**
Ren busied herself in the upstairs rooms, examining the content manifests of boxes and making sure that nothing was unaccounted for or had gone amiss. She was almost certain it was some kind of arduous hazing, like an antique snipe hunt. At some point, she was certain to discover a manifest with some unaccounted for item, and the search would begin. Only after days or weeks of searching and questions and queries and - if the plan was good enough - teetering on the edge of madness, it would be revealed with laughter and party poppers that the whole thing had been an elaborate ruse. They would explain it and Ren would feel sheepish and embarrassed and everyone would say that this time was even better than the time so-and-so fell for it.
Well, Ren decided, if anything was missing on the content labels, she would keep it to herself for until she had time to
investigate privately, just to be sure.
Days had already been invested in the room's audit, and she was barely a quarter through. It took time to unpack and repack each box, making sure that the contents were as safe going back on the shelf as they were coming off it. And then there was the time lost cooing over some of the items she had discovered.
Old photographs and engineering schematics. Letters from a number of time periods: some to lovers, some to family, and some to no one in particular. Blankets and glassware and all manner of trinkets could be found in the boxes, most of them in remarkable condition. But what fascinated her most were the books. There were so many books; various printings of all manner of published manuscripts. She loved the journals most of all. She couldn't stop herself from diving in and reading cover to cover. She was always saddened when she was finished, doubly so if the words ended before the pages ran out. The insight they gave into the life of the author sometimes made her want to cry.
Secret lives, secret thoughts, she thought to herself. It was too late to offer them the ear or shoulder they might have needed in life, but she held them in her thoughts as she absorbed every word.
Ren had almost completely forgotten her paranoia when suspicion reared its ugly head.
It seemed too perfect not to be part of a trick. It was a dusty old box on the bottom shelf all the way at the back of the room. She spent the better part of the day going through the box, reading mostly, when she noticed the last line item was unaccounted for. Upon closer inspection, she noticed that it had been crossed off with one quick line that barely made it through the first few letters of the title. The pen had run out of ink, because the line continued to crease the paper across the rest of the title almost imperceptibly. She smiled, certain that this must be the snipe hunt she was looking for. On top of the shady way it was crossed out, it was the title that made her most suspicious:
The Personal and Private Reflections of Gen. William Delaney, 1856 -
She looked through the box a second time as she repacked it, confirming that it definitely was not there. Why would one of William's journals be in these boxes?
House of Thirteen Page 7
