Silken Scales

by Alex Hayes

  She nods and her eyes turn into deep pools of understanding. I wonder what trauma lies in her past.

  There’s more to mine, of course, but picking through the wasteland of scattered memories seems a thankless task. So I shrug, and say, “That’s about all.”

  Her eyes drift across the room. “I remember being among other children. A few seemed younger but most were close to my age. Their faces are blurred, but I remember holding someone’s hand, like it was my lifeline.” She bows her head, and when she speaks again, her voice comes out a whisper. “And then that line was broken.”

  And she was set adrift down a river of endless strangers. I want to put an arm around her, but my lizardy scales hold me back.

  She reaches for her water glass, then hesitates. “Idris, do you see the vibrations in this glass?”

  I lean forward to look. The water quivers with tiny waves.

  “You’re causing them,” she says. “I wonder…”

  She skirts the conference table and crosses the room. From her backpack, she unearths a small jar, the kind grandmas put homemade jelly in. Returning to the table, she twists the jar open and sets it down. Her fingers dip inside and pull out a blood-red rose petal.

  “Mama’s potpourri.” She drops the petal into the water glass where it floats, then suddenly, it drops like a rock to the bottom. With a little push from Cadi, I realize. She looks at me with excitement in her eyes. “Bring the petal back to the surface.”

  I reach out, but she stops my movement by dropping her hand over mine.

  “Not that way. With your rhythm…your music.”

  I gape at her. “You cannot be serious.”

  “When I was little, I learned to push with my mind. Everything I do with my ability starts from that simple act. Pushing.”

  “So you want me to push? With my mind?”

  Her head shakes with short, quick movements. “Not necessarily. When you want people to like you, how do you picture that in your mind?”

  Like I was ever aware of wanting people to like me.

  My mind scrolls back to something Marek said at school. You open your mouth and you’re like Magneto.

  Dad trained me to use the intonations in my voice to be persuasive. Jeez, is it possible I’ve been manipulative too? I push the thought away.

  So, I need to talk to the water? I throw Cadi a sideways glance.

  Nah. Talking to a glass of water is so way beyond stupid, I refuse to do it. I hum instead. Something nice. A new tune I’ve been playing with.

  The vibrations in the water increase.

  Holy crap… Am I doing that?

  I think about convincing the water to move, which is about as stupid as talking to it, but no one has to know what’s going on inside my head.

  The vibration increases until the water’s almost spilling from the glass.

  I draw in a breath and purse my lips. Okay, now to get the rose petal to move.

  More gentle humming, almost silent this time. The water shifts around the glass in a slow vortex. Seems my volume doesn’t matter, just the idea in my head. I focus on the base of the glass and the spinning concentrates there, causing the petal to lift and turn with it. How cool is that?

  Now upward.

  Like a leaf rising in a swirling breeze, the rose petal lifts, higher and higher.

  My excitement takes off, and with it, the tempo of my hum. The petal spins like a rotor in high rev and explodes out of the glass along with most of the water.

  Cadi lets out a screech as we’re doused, then she’s laughing. We’re both laughing and wiping our faces with our hands.

  “That was so cool!” she squeals between breaths.

  I grab a dish towel and start sopping up the spill, but can’t contain my own joy because she’s right. I can hardly believe I did that.

  Then I hesitate and look at her. “That wasn’t you, was it?”

  She shakes her head. “Nope. That was all you.”

  Wow. Who knew I’d turn out to be a lizard-man with superpowers.

  The thought raises a question in my mind. I pat my face dry and turn to Cadi. “Your being here isn’t an accident, is it?”

  Her face sobers. “Don’t think so. I told you I was looking for someone. Guess that someone is you.”

  “So how’d you find me?”

  She crosses her arms and pulls back in her seat. A defensive maneuver, or awkwardness or something.

  I smirk and toss the dish towel at her.

  She catches it and wipes the drips off her cheeks. “I was drawn here.”

  Interesting. “Drawn in what way?”

  “It’s hard to explain.”

  I flash her a doubtful look.

  “I mean, it’s hard to describe. A tingly feeling in my…” She makes a circular movement in front of her chest and midriff. “With a definite tug.”

  Magneto? I resist smiling. “Can you feel it now?”

  Her gaze shifts away from me as a thoughtful frown takes over. “Yes. But it’s not a pull.” She looks at me again. “You’re right here, so I guess that attraction…” Her cheeks flush bright pink. “I mean, whatever it is that’s drawing me, um…to you, isn’t needed right now.”

  She’s on her feet and clearing the dishes, leaving me wondering why she feels an attraction, and I don’t. At least, not in the Magneto kind of way she’s talking about.

  “You said before I was sending out like me signals. Is that what you mean with this tugging?”

  The sound of dish scrubbing stops. “No.” She turns. “Your like me signal is more like a broadcast, coming off you. What drew me here was more like the tug on a string.”

  “So when did you first notice it?”

  “I…just after I gave up my phone.” She goes back to the dishes and I get the feeling I’ve been stonewalled.

  Stepping a little closer, I say, “So what did you trade your phone for?”

  “A crystal.”

  Why would she sell her phone for some shiny bauble?

  I glance at her fingers, her ears. Bare. No piercings whatsoever. “You don’t seem like the jewelry-wearing type.”

  A pause. “I’m not.” Scrubbing ensues.

  “Or a mystic.”

  She laughs. “No, I’m not one of those either.”

  “So why hock your phone for a rock?”

  The scrubbing becomes more frantic, then eases off. “I’m afraid you won’t believe me.”

  I give her a slow smile. “Why don’t you try me?”

  She grabs the dish towel and wipes her hands. “The crystal wanted me to.”

  A long stare and I shake my head. “You’re right. I don’t believe you.”

  Her eyes take on this sadness that shakes me, but before I can say anything, try to soften the blow, she’s head down over the dishes again, scrubbing like she’s OCD and out to get the last molecule of dirt off that pan.

  When the dishes are done, Cadi picks up her backpack. “I should get going.”

  It’s been dark out for two hours, and somewhere out there is a mad old lady with glowing eyes who scared the crap out of me when I ran into her a few nights ago. And then there’s that dried-up body Marek told me about.

  I can’t let Cadi wander the streets on her own, nor can I go with her all the way back to her hotel. Someone would spot me for sure. Damn it. “Maybe you should stay the night.”

  Her eyes widen.

  “Because of the old lady,” I add, quickly. Probably best not to mention the body. That would totally freak her out. “You said your hotel’s downtown. There’s too much light around that area for me to go with you and I can’t let you go alone.”

  She catches her lower lip between her teeth. “Mama wouldn’t approve.”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s not like you didn’t spend last night here.”

  Her features twist. “I was unconscious.”

  I puff out a sigh. “You can have the bed. There’s a lock on the door if that’ll make you feel safer.”

  A
pert smile transforms her face. “I feel perfectly safe, but Mama isn’t going to be happy about me staying here. She booked a hotel room for me.”

  “Does she need to find out?”

  “Idris, I can’t lie to her. Besides, she’d know if I tried.”

  “But it’s not safe for—”

  “I know. I’ll stay, but I can’t take the bed.” When I start to protest, she holds up her hand. “At least that way, I can tell Mama I slept on the couch and she’ll believe me.”

  Three sharp raps break the silence surrounding me.

  Cadi stirs on the sectional where she’s fallen asleep. Setting my iPad on the glass conference table, I head for the stairs. As I turn the corner, my eye catches Cadi tiptoeing after me. I lift a finger to my lips. She nods.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Déjà vu. Again.

  I slip down the passageway with Cadi in shadow position and stop a few feet from the front door.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Behind me, Cadi jumps, then sidles closer.

  I touch her arm, signaling her to stay put, and creep forward, having already guessed who’s on the other side of the door.

  I’m about to put an eye to the stained glass when a fist smashes the clear segment of window and a gnarled hand plows through, stopping inches from my face. With a gasp, I pull back as bent fingers stretch toward me, blood dripping from their knuckles.

  Holy shit! That old hag has got to be whacked. Can she not feel those cuts?

  Cadi grips my elbow as the grisly hand retreats. I turn and bundle her through the nightclub toward the back door.

  She tugs on my arm until my ear is near her lips. “The old lady?”

  I nod and settle my mind, then whisper, “Coats.”

  She nods and slips downstairs.

  The handle on the front door rattles. I hear a scratching sound and wonder what the crazy woman’s up to. Picking the lock?

  Cadi mounts the stairs at a run, coats in arms. I shrug into mine and check to see if the old lady’s still out front.

  Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

  Her location confirmed, I hustle Cadi out the back door, lock up, then grab her hand and yank her across the parking lot into the woods.

  Leading her through the snow, I weave between trees, until we reach a position around the side of the Thorny Rose, where we can see the old lady rattling the front door.

  “She’s got to be crazy,” Cadi murmurs.

  “Definitely. But that doesn’t explain what she wants with us.”

  The old lady disappears behind the building.

  Cadi presses closer to me. “Did she give up?”

  “Probably heading round to check the back door.” I’m not inclined to backtrack through the snow to find out. Better to hang out here and watch for her leaving.

  We wait.

  A sharp breeze blows through the trees and Cadi’s teeth start to chatter.

  Need to get her out of here before she freezes to death. “I’ve got a mission for you.”

  “W-What m-mission?”

  There’s something sweet about her shaky voice that makes me want to hug her. I shove the thought away. “There’s a Starbucks about ten minutes from here. Know the one?”

  She nods.

  “Go get us drinks?”

  Her eyes widen. “What?”

  She thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am. But I want her safely away, so I can confront that mad old lady. “I’ll have a venti mocha cappuccino.”

  “Idris, be serious.”

  I smile, a little wickedly. “I am being serious. The walk’ll warm you up and the coffee’ll keep me awake.”

  “But I’m almost out of money,” she protests.

  “There is that.” I reach for my phone. “Use the app. There’s like fifty dollars on it, so get whatever you want. But don’t take it out of airplane mode until you’re ready to pay. There’s a chance my parents have the cops scanning for my phone signal.” I tell her the passcode.

  She takes a step backward. “But I don’t want to leave you here alone. What if something happens?”

  “Nothing’s going to happen.” I pat her shoulder. “I got this. Go get us coffee.”

  “You’re as mad as she is,” Cadi mutters, but goes. I watch her creep along the tree line, and eventually, slip down an embankment and cross the road to the shadows on the other side.

  A shudder rattles my teeth as the winter-night chill slips under my collar.

  Cadi’s barely out of sight when the crazy old lady reappears from behind the Thorny Rose. She turns in the direction Cadi just took and stares through the darkness.

  How the hell does she know Cadi went that way? She couldn’t have seen her leaving, but like a fly to honey, the hag rambles off in Cadi’s direction.

  Crap. I need to get after her.

  Following the old lady isn’t as hard as I expect. She doesn’t look back even once, just totters after Cadi like a zombie on the trail of fresh meat.

  She reaches the corner onto Main Street and takes a right, then lingers. Cadi must have crossed the road by now and will be walking under the light of the street-lamps, hopefully surrounded by the tourists still milling around the bars and coffee shops.

  I wonder again why the old lady shifted interest from the Thorny Rose to Cadi so quickly. And how she detected Cadi’s departure in the first place.

  Traffic’s busy down the four-lane thoroughfare. A cop car passes, making me dodge further into the shadows.

  A chatty couple approaches from behind me. I pull my hood forward and shiver dramatically as they pass.

  When I look down the road after them, the old lady has disappeared.

  Crap.

  I continue to the corner and stop by the trunk of an old maple. The Starbucks is in full view. Has Cadi left already?

  No. I spot her tan coat through the window, between the wreathes and holly painted on the plate glass.

  But where’s the old lady?

  Doesn’t matter. As long as I keep my eyes on Cadi, I’ll know she’s safe.

  The cafe door opens and Cadi steps out. She pauses to look up and down the street. Her eyes shift past me, but I know she can’t see me in the shadows. She walks a block further along the road. Another police car cruises down the street, slowing at the crosswalk she’s heading for. Cadi lifts her chin and strides in front of the stopped vehicle like she doesn’t notice it’s there.

  The lights on the cruiser start to flash, making my breath hitch. Cadi reaches the other side of the street just as the police car swings a U-ey and pulls to the curb behind her.

  26

  Cadi

  I feel guilty spending Idris’s money, but when I get to Starbucks, I realize his drink’s going to be cold by the time I get back to the Thorny Rose. My eyes survey the discount bins and I spot a venti-sized insulated mug with Christmas wreathes for less than ten dollars. Inside is a ticket for a free drink. That’s about the same cost as two drinks in paper cups, so I grab the mug and head for the register.

  While a skinny guy in a rastacap takes my order, I turn on Idris’s phone and the picture of an African American girl with arched eyebrows, huge dark eyes and perfect skin appears before me.

  Time freezes. Or maybe my heart stopped and I died.

  “That’ll be ten eighty-three, please.”

  My eyes flash up toward the guy in the tam. With a smile and a nod, I punch in Idris’s passcode, turn off airplane mode and find the Starbucks app.

  The smiling Rasta guy holds the phone to his scanner and hands it back. “Would you like a receipt?”

  “Sure,” I answer on autopilot, unable to unburn the gorgeous girl’s image from my mind.

  His girlfriend? Has to be. Why didn’t the thought even cross my mind that he had one?

  I take the receipt and crush it up in my hand, imagining my heart in its place, then stuff the paper ball in my pocket.

  With the cappuccino-filled insulated mug tucked into my elbow, I head out into the street.
>
  A cop car turns behind me as I cross over, lights flashing, then pulls up to the curb only yards away. My crumpled heart transforms into an origami crane and tries to flap out of my throat. Did they pick up Idris’s phone? Will they think I stole it?

  Then I spot the old lady sitting on a park bench twenty yards from me, and the idea of being accosted by two policemen doesn’t seem so terrible after all.

  The two cops, both tall and buff, climb out of the vehicle and slip their batons into their belts as I prepare to answer their questions and ask if they’d give me a ride somewhere, anywhere that’s far away from that mad woman. But instead of approaching me, they walk toward her.

  One waves. “Hey, Mrs. Washington, what’re you doing so far from the shelter this time of night?”

  The old lady scowls, but doesn’t struggle when they help her from the bench. Her eyes turn my way, glowing violet. Can’t those policemen see their eerie light? I back to the edge of the sidewalk and stare as the officers bundle the woman into the back of their cruiser and drive away.

  I start for the Thorny Rose and feel a tug pulling me in the opposite direction. I head back, turn a corner and step under the droopy branches of a spruce tree. “Idris?”

  The shadows shift and take on his shape. “Yeah, you okay? You knew I was here, didn’t you?”

  I smile. “Felt a tug in this direction.”

  “Amazing.”

  “That old lady—”

  “I know. I saw.” He pats my arms. “She followed you. Saw the cops take her away, too.”

  “Probably back to the homeless shelter.”

  Idris nods. “Makes sense. They probably already know she’s crazy.” He looks at the coffee mug. “Don’t suppose that’s for me.”

  “What?” I look down. “Oh, yeah. I got it on clearance. Figured you’d want your coffee warm.”

  He takes the mug and sips the drink. “Not bad. Where’s yours?”

  I shake my head. “The cup cost a bit more, so I just got your drink. You were right, the walk warmed me up. I’m fine.”

  His head cocks to one side. “You should’ve bought yourself something. Share this with me.”