SATURDAY, CYON 23, 6293
-14 DAYS
Rona and Trett set off on foot, abandoning their Merak-owned hovs in front of the café. It was dark, but the streetlights were bright enough to illuminate other pedestrians. Trett couldn’t stop examining every person on the street, certain he and Rona were being watched or followed. That guy. He’s looking at us.
“Trett!” Rona grabbed his arm, and when he looked at her, she was glaring at him. “I’m as aware of the danger as you are, but you look really suspicious.”
He nodded, pulled his arm away, and kept walking, gaze straight ahead, jaw squared.
“Where should we go?” Rona asked.
“I don’t know.” His voice was tight, barely controlled. “We have to get off these streets and find a place to stay. At least we still have access to our money on our secret flexes.”
“Yes, but if we use it, any decent hacker can figure out where we’ve been.”
Trett released a quiet groan.
“We need new identities,” Rona said softly. “Again.”
“How long will that take?”
“I have no idea. I need to contact my friend.”
“Once the IDs are set up, can she transfer our money and make sure Merak can’t trace it?”
Rona ignored the question. “Don’t turn around.” Her voice was calm. “One of Merak’s security guards is following us.”
“What?” Trett resisted his instinct to turn. “How do you know?”
“He’s on the other side of the street. He’s on foot, probably didn’t want us to notice him on a Merak hov. But I recognize him.”
Breathing far too quickly, Trett scanned their surroundings. The street was lined with long buildings, each containing several businesses. There—a restaurant. Restaurants always had back doors, right? He grabbed Rona’s arm. “Come on.”
He dashed into the restaurant, pulling Rona with him. No one payed them too much attention as they rushed through the crowded dining room, then charged into the busy kitchen at the back. Warm air, noise, and spicy scents greeted them.
“I’m sure he followed us into the building,” Rona said as they squeezed between cooks and equipment, ignoring the staff’s exclamations.
“I know. Hopefully it’s dark out back.” Trett shoved the back door open. They were in a long parking lot that backed up to the businesses on the street they’d just left. Across the lot were similar buildings from the next street over. Hundreds of hovs, glidecrafts, and solarcars were parked in the lot. Way too many bright lights illuminated the area.
“Run!” Trett turned left and broke into a sprint. Rona followed.
They turned between two of the long buildings. Just then, a man behind them shouted, “Stop!”
Trett cursed.
“Your plan . . . didn’t work!” Rona panted as they ran through the narrow alley.
Trett led her back to the street they’d just left. “Faster!” he hissed.
They made it past the next strip of connected businesses, garnering stares the whole way. “In here!” Rona said. She grabbed his arm and pulled him into another shadowy space between buildings. They dropped into low squats. Several seconds later, their pursuer ran past them on the street.
“What do we do now?” Trett whispered.
“I don’t know.” Rona’s breaths were ragged. “I’m sure if one guard found us that quickly, there are more.” She stood. “He’s bound to double back when he realizes he lost us. Come on.” They scurried back to the parking lot and resumed running. “I can’t—do this—for long,” Rona said.
Trett was short of breath too, as much from panic as exertion. He was just about to suggest they cross the parking lot to the buildings on the other side when Rona grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. In a voice that sounded weaker than usual, she said, “Trett?”
“Don’t stop!” He pulled his arm free and frantically beckoned for her to continue.
The parking lot lights shone off her eyes, which suddenly went blank. Trett barely caught her before she fell to the ecophalt at their feet.
Of all the bad times for a vision . . . He picked up Rona like a baby and straightened with a low groan, then stepped between two hovs, determined to reach the other side of the parking lot. His attempted run was more of a lumbering walk.
Footsteps sounded behind him. Trett turned his head to see the same guard as before, dashing toward him.
“Damn it!” He tried to increase his pace, but Rona’s dead weight was already taxing him. There was no way to avoid their pursuer.
“Stop!” The guard slowed to a jog as he weaved between vehicles. “I just need to talk to you.”
Suddenly the burden in Trett’s arms stiffened. He looked down to see Rona’s eyes, wide and alert.
“Put me down,” she snapped.
Trett complied as fast as he could. The guard was maybe thirty mets away; they could still escape. “Come on!” he said, turning to run.
“This way!” She beckoned and ran in the opposite direction.
As the guard turned to intercept them, Trett followed Rona, shouting, “The other way! We need to go the other way!”
Rona ignored him, even when Trett got so close that he was pleading directly into her ear.
Suddenly, she stopped. Trett pulled up short, nearly running into her. “Go!” he shouted.
She shook her head and stood stubbornly in a narrow parking spot, sized to fit a hov. It was one of five open spots, all near each other. The area was brightly lit by a nearby light. Rona had brought them to the most exposed place in the entire parking lot.
“Why?” Trett asked.
Rona didn’t answer. Seconds later, the guard ran up, halting in an empty spot close to them. He held up his hands in a calming gesture and flashed them a friendly smile. It didn’t compensate for his intimidating muscles. “I’m glad you stopped. Like I said, I just want to talk.”
Movement caught Trett’s attention as a dubhov emerged from between two nearby buildings. The vehicle was going much faster than it should have, and the two young men riding on it were laughing wildly, probably drunk.
The guard glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes, then returned his attention to Trett and Rona. “We were concerned about you. We noticed your flexes went offline . . .”
He kept talking in a soothing voice. The dubhov continued to approach, hovering dangerously high and weaving between other vehicles.
“Open spots! Right there!” one of the young men shouted.
“Where did you think I was going?” the other one replied.
The guard’s expression was still calm, but his hand was creeping behind his back. Trett didn’t doubt the man was reaching for stundiscs, the preferred weapon of private security guards. If Trett and Rona didn’t comply, the guard would throw the palm-sized discs at them, incapacitating them long enough to restrain them. Why are we just standing here, waiting to be attacked?
In the distance, several staccato uh-uh-uh sounds traveled through the air. It was a distinctive noise—the call of angry caynins. The guard’s eyes briefly flicked in that direction, and the corner of his mouth turned up as he pulled the stundiscs out.
Trett’s heart pounded even more urgently. The stundiscs would paralyze him in seconds. Reinforcements, both human and beast, were on their way. And Rona was still standing there like a calm statue.
Suddenly, the approaching dubhov driver lost control. His vehicle tilted to one side at a dangerous angle, then careened into the guard, knocking him to the ground. The hov wobbled then dropped, landing on the prone guard’s chest. A crack filled the air, the sickening sound of bones breaking.
“Now we go!” Rona cried, already running.
Trett followed, his eyes feeling like they’d bug out of his head. His stomach churned. I think Rona just lured that guard into a crash.
Rona seemed to know just where she was heading. She dashed all the way across the parking lot and led Trett between two buildings, slowing to a wal
k.
“We’ll be safe on that street,” she said, pointing ahead.
“For how long?”
“Long enough.” Her next two words were so quiet, Trett almost missed them. “I hope.”
Rona tried to ignore her pounding headache—stupid PVS—as she led Trett down the street. It was even busier than the previous street. She scanned the signs and pointed. “We’ll get a table at that restaurant.”
“We’re going out to eat?” Trett asked incredulously.
“No one will find us there.”
“We can’t use our money!”
Rona hesitated, then said, “Just order water.”
Trett sighed and followed her in.
About a dozen people were crowded in the tiny lobby, waiting for tables. At least that would make it easier for them to go unnoticed. They found a corner to huddle in, and Rona pulled out her flex.
“What the hell happened out there?” Trett asked, keeping his voice low.
She shifted her gaze to him. “Which part?”
“The dubhov crashing into the guard. You saw that in your vision?”
She nodded. “It was the only way to get rid of the guard that found us and the one who was tracking us with caynins.” As if on cue, the distant uh-uh-uh of caynins rang through the air again.
Trett’s eyebrows shot up. “They sound closer than before!”
“They probably are. Likely, the guard with the caynins found his colleague. It’ll take time to arrange medical assistance.”
“But our scent—”
She interrupted him. “Caynins are great protectors. They can recognize individuals by scent or voice. They’re not great trackers in heavily populated areas, however. Our scents will be too faded by the time they come after us again.” She saw more questions in Trett’s expression and held up her flex. “We can talk more later. I need to work on these new IDs.”
“Did you see anything else useful in your vision?” Trett pressed.
“I saw the restaurant we’re sitting in. Like I said, it’s safe. My vision ended here; we’ll have to figure out the rest on our own.”
Trett sighed, then pulled out his own flex. “I’ll check to see if Ellin emmed me.”
“Once we’re using our new IDs, we won’t get any messages from her,” Rona said. “If she didn’t em you, you should post in the reading group.”
Trett nodded and firmed his flex. He cursed under his breath, then muttered, “No ems. I’ll try the reading group.”
Before leaving home, Kizha had suggested they set up an alternate contact method, in case they got separated and couldn’t communicate through ordinary channels. They’d all joined a public chat group that centered around books. Their logins weren’t linked to their real or fake names, and they had a code to communicate with each other in case of emergency.
Rona sent Kizha a message about the new IDs. As she waited for a response, she watched Trett. It wasn’t long before he angrily collapsed his device and wadded it up. She didn’t have to ask whether he’d found a message from Ellin in the chat group.
Just then, Rona’s flex buzzed. Kizha’s em said,
I’ll have the IDs to you in a few minutes. The money will take an hour or so.
Rona felt her jaw drop.
That fast?
She stared at her screen until Kizha’s reply popped up.
Back when you first asked me for fake IDs, you requested two for both you and Trett. Remember?
Oh now she did remember that. She’d wondered why the nudge for two new IDs was only applicable to her and Trett. She slowly shook her head. Why had her prophecies prepared her for this, but they hadn’t prevented whatever had happened to Ellin? To their parents?
Rona tried not to dwell on those unanswerable questions. She sent a quick thanks to Kizha then updated Trett on the new IDs and money. “We need to get on the local network and browse ads for cheap, short-term rentals. No hotels; Merak might have them watched.”
Twenty minutes later, Trett held out his flex. He’d pulled up information on a tiny apartment not too far from there. “It says they’re open to any length lease.”
They reached out to the landlord, offering to pay her for three months in advance if she met them at the apartment immediately. She agreed with an eagerness that made Rona wary of the place’s desirability.
No one pursued them as they walked to the apartment. Sure enough, it was old, stinky, and painfully small—but it was furnished and cheap.
“We’ll pay twenty percent extra if you don’t take it off the market,” Rona said.
The landlord gave her a confused look.
“If anyone calls about it, tell them you’re remodeling it and forgot to remove the listing,” Rona instructed. “Do not under any circumstances show the space to other tenants.”
“Okay,” the landlord said. Questions blazed in her eyes, but she kept her mouth shut.
Rona pulled out her flex and saw that her money was in a new account under her new name. She paid for three months’ rent, plus twenty percent, and the landlord left.
Still fighting a headache, Rona sat heavily on the couch and lay her head back. Despite her exhaustion, she didn’t close her eyes. It would be useless to try to nap with these PVS symptoms and her anxiety about Ellin. “I’m going to order some groceries and supplies,” she said. “I’ll have them delivered.”
“Good idea,” Trett replied.
Rona had just found the nearest delivery service on her flex when pressure filled her head. Moments later, a vision overtook her consciousness.
It was Merak, sitting on a bed, flexscreen in hand. Through the large window over the bed, Cellerin Mountain rose in the distance.
Rona’s perspective zoomed in, centering on Merak’s head and upper torso. His face was somber as he examined whatever was on his flex. The top two buttons of his shirt were open, and he reached up and pulled out a necklace.
As Merak caressed the pendant with his thumb and fingers, Rona examined it. It was made of silvery metal molded in the shape of an eight-pointed star. At the end of each point was a teardrop-shaped loop. In the center of the star was a round, yellow gemstone, its facets glinting in the light.
Still within the vision, Rona pondered what she was seeing. Why would Merak be wearing a Rimstar, the symbol of the Rimorian faith? He wasn’t religious. There was something familiar about that pendant, though, besides just the recognizable shape.
All at once, it struck her. When a person died, sometimes their loved ones had diamonds made of the carbon in their ashes. These ash diamonds were often placed in a setting shaped like a Rimstar.
Was that what this was? An ash diamond? If so, who was Merak remembering?
Again, Rona’s perspective changed, shifting so she could see what Merak was looking at on his flex.
It was a picture of a little girl.
Merak coughed.
No, not a cough, Rona realized when the sound repeated. A sob.
He gestured at his screen, moving the photo down and revealing the title of the page. Rona read the heading as Merak traced it with his fingertip:
In Memory of
ELLIN MERAK
Underneath was his daughter’s birthdate, over nineteen years ago, and the date of her death, seven years later.
The vision faded, and Rona’s shoulders slumped in renewed exhaustion. Her breaths came quickly, and her eyes were wide as she turned to Trett.
“I’ve been wondering,” she said, her voice quiet and level, “why Merak seemed so interested in Ellin. Yes, she’s smart, but other interns are smart too.”
Trett looked up from his flex. “I’ve wondered the same.”
Rona swallowed. “I think I know the answer.”
As she related the vision to Trett, his eyes grew wide, and sharp breaths caused his chest to rise and fall rapidly. When he responded, his voice was quiet, but harsh. “You’re telling me he’s attached to Ellin because of his dead daughter? What does that even mean? Did he kill her bec
ause he can’t stand to be around another Ellin? Or abduct her to somehow replace his daughter?”
“I don’t know.”
“Damn it, Rona! How are we going to find her?”
“We’re living in a new place, and I don’t have any routines here. Hopefully that’ll provoke some visions about her.”
Trett’s hand slammed down on the bench beside him with a loud whack. “That’s not enough!”
“It’ll have to be.”
Trett glared at her, his jaw muscles visibly clenching along with his fists.
Rona reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. She’d never so much as shaken his hand before. He flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. “Trett,” she said, “I love her too. More than you know.”
She felt his shoulder relax a little. His mouth fell open, and he closed it and swallowed. “Good.” His head dropped, and then his body started to shake. Snuffling sounds escaped his mouth and nose.
Rona kept her hand on him, not sure what else to do. Without warning, another vision began.
Ellin lay on a mattress in some sort of metal room. She wore a hooded jacket and was wrapped in a green blanket. Rona’s perspective zoomed in, and she saw Ellin’s torso moving with her breaths. The vision ended.
Rona sent up a wordless prayer of thanks, then gathered Trett into a hug and whispered in his ear, “She’s alive.”
24
SATURDAY, CYON 23, 6293
-14 DAYS
I didn’t even try to run.
After a long bout of silent, violent trembling, that was the thought that finally brought Ellin to tears.
She’d sat there, huddled up like a frightened animal, watching Merak. She’d seen him put his gun away. Sure, he was blocking the doorway, but she might have managed to push past him. He was decades older than her; she might have outrun him. If he’d grabbed her, well, she had nails and knees and fists. She could have fought. She could have grabbed the gun, maybe even figured out how to use it.
The Seer’s Sister: Prequel to The Magic Eaters Trilogy Page 19