Revived

by Sarah Noffke

  A long sigh falls from Trey’s mouth. “Right. In hindsight I made mistakes. At the time I thought that both homes were good choices, but with time the reasons I picked them disappeared. Joseph, the mother in your family died, changing the entire dynamic of the home. Roya, you were simply unaccepted because unlike Joseph you’re not as good at pretending you’re a Middling.” Trey’s forehead creases as he stares at nothing. “The problem was that by the time these problems inside the households surfaced, you’d already been there for too long. Removing you would have created all sorts of confusion. You were both seven at the time that your family life became neglectful. I don’t think it was coincidence either.”

  Trey takes a seat in an identical chair beside mine. Joseph’s doing a ridiculous job of trying to act natural as he props his elbow on a high sideboard. He’s eyeing an antique globe and I sense he badly wants to rotate it on its axis, but is too nervous to touch it. Trey watches him for a few seconds before turning back to me. “Have you ever wondered about your name, Roya? It’s unique.”

  “It means dream,” I say tediously. I looked up the significance years ago, since neither of my fake parents had any clue.

  “Yes, I gave it to you. Elle named you, Joseph,” Trey says, indicating my brother. “She was raised Christian and loved the teachings from the Bible although later she abandoned her religion.”

  “Why?” he asks, curiosity dripping in his tone.

  “She believed, much the same way I do, that stories are for the inspiration, but true faith comes from within. The stories from the Bible or any other religion are meant to guide and teach. The Bible or Koran or Bhagavad Gita are not faith. They’re stories of faith. Elle didn’t need Christianity just the same way I didn’t need Buddhism anymore. They were foundations, but we had risen to new levels of awareness.” Trey focuses on me, his head inclined slightly. “I think I told you before, Roya, one religion isn’t enough for me. I need multiple philosophies to navigate.”

  Strange doesn’t even begin to explain how peculiar it feels to be sitting in Trey’s dining room and discussing religion like it’s something we do every Sunday evening. It’s no doubt going to take years for my present reality to not feel surreal. This silver-haired man who has the demeanor of an army general and the attitude of a laissez-faire monk is supposed be our father. The idea continues to hit the wall of my brain like a ball of silly putty.

  “Are you guys hungry?” Trey asked.

  Joseph looks to me, like I’m supposed to answer.

  “Sure,” I say with a shrug.

  “All right, well, I’ll fetch dinner and be right back,” Trey says, exiting through another doorway on the far side of the room.

  Now that I’m free to peruse, I allow my eyes to wander around the room, studying every detail. Burlap fabric ripples in sections across the walls, but it doesn’t entirely hide the stainless steel behind it, indicative to the Institute. It peeks out in places where the burlap must make room for a metal filament sconce or a piece of artwork.

  On the main wall is a large iron wheel that looks like a gear that would drive a gigantic machine. I want to run my fingers across this piece, but I don’t really feel like leaving the comfort of the oversized chair. The whole room is rustic and masculine, but feels warm and sensitive with its multiple curves. It’s understated, yet complex and intellectually intriguing.

  Carrying two large round platters, Trey walks into the room and sets them on the table.

  “I hope you two like Indian food,” he says, encouraging us to take a seat at the table. “That’s what I’ve ordered. It’s my favorite.”

  It’s my favorite too, but I’m not divulging that.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had it,” Joseph says frankly.

  “Well, this will be fun,” Trey says, handing us both large plates.

  The food is done thali style. Rice, chutney, dal vegetables, yogurt, and a few entrees are served in small metal bowls. Along with them are layers of naan smothered in oil and garlic.

  My mouth salivates at once. Rich curry spices waft up from the bowls, enticing me with their distinct aromas. I wait until Trey hands me a bowl of vegetable korma before moving an inch.

  “Go ahead,” he encourages. With that we begin the procession of passing around the various bowls and spooning the contents onto our plates.

  “So tell me,” Trey says, feigning a casual tone, “how have things been going?”

  I have absolutely no idea how to answer that question. I do what’s expected of me and defer to Joseph. Predictably, he grins and starts in on a long explanation about how at home he’s feeling at the Institute.

  Trey nods and listens thoughtfully. I eat. Joseph makes sure that the conversation throughout dinner is never quiet or uncomfortable and I’m grateful for that, because I’m both.

  When I’ve had my fill of curried vegetables and saag aloo I push back from the thick glass table and take a long drink of lemon water.

  “I want to thank both of you for joining me tonight.” Trey looks at me only briefly before turning his attention on Joseph, who is no doubt much more receptive to Trey’s attempts at eye contact. “I know things aren’t easy between us and I don’t have any illusions about our future relationships. I just want to do what feels right, and giving us an opportunity to spend time together makes sense.”

  I pretend to be fascinated by the dirty fork lying on my plate.

  “Thanks for having us over,” Joseph says in a cheerful voice, one I instantly despise. “I’m grateful for the opportunity to be here.”

  “Joseph, you’re just like Elle,” Trey says, a strange fondness in his usual rigid tone. He wads up his napkin and lays it on his plate. “The things you say are just like the things she’d say. Your mother was outgoing like you. She could entertain a room with her charm and humble sweetness.”

  A grin like I’ve never seen spreads across Joseph’s face, lighting up every corner of it. “I’m glad to hear that I got it from her,” Joseph beams. “For the longest time I thought I’d inherited it from my prized pig, Betsy.”

  I roll my eyes. “You never had a prized pig.”

  “Thanks very much for calling me out, Stark” Joseph says, still wearing the silly smile. “If I did have one, that’s what she’d be named. And I did think that I got my personality from our pigs because they were cool and fun.”

  “I know something you got from the pigs,” I say, pushing my plate away.

  “Roya, I’m sorry to tell you this, but…” Trey stares at me for a moment under the dim flickering of the sconce lights. “You’re actually exactly like me.”

  Abrupt laughter erupts from Joseph. To my disbelief Trey joins him. I’ve never heard him laugh and it makes him almost appear human. He covers his mouth, but I still spy the humor in Trey’s eyes.

  “It’s kind of scary,” he says. “You and I are almost identical in our mood and demeanor. I swear I know half the time how you’ll react and I almost always agree with your response.”

  I don’t dare respond, just continue to look at him like he’s trying to sell me a constellation in a distant galaxy. After a few seconds he pushes up from the table. “That’s exactly the reaction I expected from you.”

  Joseph laughs again, the stupid grin looking to be a permanent fixture on his face.

  “I have something for both of you,” Trey says, a new lightness in his voice. He heads back toward the main living room. “If you would, please follow me.”

  As soon as I set foot back in this room I’m glad. It makes me feel warm and I desperately want hours alone in here to comb through all the contents. Trey marches off to the opposite wall. This gives me the opportunity to inspect the items on a nearby shelf. Immediately my attention is pulled in by a pair of pink ballet slippers. Something odd runs over my skin, a reaction I’ve had a few times when encountering objects around the Institute.

  “Those,” I say, pointing at them, “they were in my closet in the fifth task for the competition to become
Zhuang’s challenger. The one where I had to choose the object of most importance.”

  Trey gives a look of surprise. “Were they? Well, that’s interesting.”

  “This isn’t the only time I’ve encountered an object from the closet.” I say, remembering the bizarre rush of familiarity I felt the first time I saw the frequency adjuster. “Why is that?”

  Trey snatches two objects before spinning back around. “Those objects in your closet were projections from your future. This is some of Aiden’s newest technology, and we only allowed him to use it for that task. It’s something he’d been working on for a while and wanted to test out, and that seemed like the perfect time. When you came through the GAD-C he captured a sample of your DNA. I’m not well versed in the specifics, but he used this to get a reading of over fifty objects that would come into your possession in the future. Honestly, I find the technology to be a little mind-boggling, and have serious concerns about its usefulness.” He eyes the slippers, his expression serious, yet pleasant. “It sounds like one day you’ll inherit these slippers.”

  “Damn,” Joseph says with a whistle. “Aiden is wicked smart.”

  “There’s no debating that,” Trey says, an edge of irritation in his voice.

  Joseph flashes me a curious expression. He caught it too. “Ew, has the golden scientist gotten in trouble?”

  Trey shakes his head, dismissing Joseph’s curious question. I bury everything related to Aiden six feet deep.

  “Here.” Trey holds out his hand to me. “This belonged to Elle and I want you to have it.”

  I hesitate before reaching out and letting him drop a cold, oval object into my palm. It’s a polished, green egg-like stone and I instantly like the way it easily fits in my hand.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Jade,” he replies, taking a seat on the chesterfield-style sofa. “This is a good time to give you a bit of family history.”

  Joseph takes a seat on the opposite side of the sofa. I remain standing.

  “Your mother’s family were known for their telepathic powers. Not only that, but like many Dream Travelers from the Founders’ lineage, your mother had multiple abilities. One of those was she could control the forces of the Earth.”

  Trey pauses, gauging my reaction. Feeling too unnerved by the strangeness of his eyes, I take a seat in an armchair just to have a reason to move my body.

  “You’ll remember,” he continues, “that you were able to control the wind in the Grotte?”

  I nod.

  “I had no trouble believing that during your debriefing,” Trey says. “It’s part of your lineage. Your mother could make the earth buckle underneath someone if she chose. However, being raised by Pierre, she often feared her powers and that she would use them for corrupt reasons. Jade often represents balance and peace, and for this reason Elle kept this stone close to her.”

  Trey turns and faces Joseph. “Elle could control the earth. I control water, and Roya the wind. I believe that when properly motivated you could control fire. It makes sense, but I have no way to affirm this notion.”

  Joseph swallows hard and I feel the tension and excitement in him.

  Trey extends his other hand, which has been firmly clenched around an object. Joseph holds out his hand, just as I had done but with less reluctance. Softly Trey drops a seemingly heavy and shiny object into his palm. “This belonged to your grandfather.” Trey sounds suddenly tired, or is it emotional? It’s hard to tell in the faint lighting of the chandelier overhead. “This was his protective charm and I want you to have it.”

  Suddenly I feel Joseph’s agonizing guilt. It’s a sharp blade on his skin. Fire touching ice. Light on an unexposed photograph. Trey has no idea that his words are further destroying Joseph in ways that can’t be repaired. Joseph doesn’t close his fingers around the silver pocket watch, but rather keeps them splayed out, ensuring the object touches the least amount of his skin.

  “No one was more practical than Flynn,” Trey says. “Sometimes I wonder if Elle would still be with us if she’d been more practical. You see, your mother reacted with emotions to everything and it was what I loved about her, but probably what got her killed in the end. I’m giving this to you, Joseph, because you’re so much like your mother and I hope that you steal a little of your grandfather’s practicality and therefore avoid the same mistakes as Elle.” He studies Joseph, who has recently vaulted away his expression under a mask of stone. “Why don’t you take it for now and you can always give it back if you decide.”

  My voice slowly finds energy and rises out of my lungs. “How and why did our mother die?”

  “That,” Trey says, holding up one finger, “is a good question and one I expected to hear from you tonight, Roya.” He stands, peering down at me. I instinctively know the conversation is over. “I’m not going to give you the answer to this question tonight. I actually want you to receive the information from the person who was there and witnessed it firsthand. Ren will expect you in his office first thing in the morning.”

  Chapter Thirty

  “Ren?” I say as we exit Trey’s quarters.

  “Yeah, that’s going to keep me up most the night with questions.” Joseph’s brow is wrinkled with confusion.

  Stricken by a memory I slap Joseph across the shoulder.

  “Ouch!” he says, grabbing his arm. “Why’d you do that?”

  “I just remembered something.”

  “Next time, just tell me. No hitting.”

  “Be quiet,” I say, holding my hand up to silence him. “When I was first practicing with George, we were trying to determine if the sensor would allow him to read emotions remotely. Anyway, I accidentally encountered Ren and…”

  “Don’t stop there,” Joseph urges.

  I scratch my head, trying to remember the exact memory. “George sensed that Ren had guilt and shame, but that he didn’t feel he deserved to bear this wound.” I close my eyes, searching for the phrase, the one that struck me so oddly at the time.

  “What! Keep going!” Joseph says, gripping both my arms. “What else did George read?”

  I snap my eyes open, the memory echoing inside me suddenly. “Ren was tired of blaming himself for what went wrong. He was sorry she was dead. And it made him suffer.”

  “And you think that’s about our mother?”

  I shake my head with doubt. “Maybe. If it was any normal person, I’d say yes without a hesitation, but who knows how many people Ren’s watched die.”

  “Man, that’s morbid, Stark.”

  “Welcome to the life of a Lucidite,” I sing, turning to continue down the hallway just as Aiden rounds the corner, most likely headed for his own room.

  “Hey,” he says, a surprised smile flashing on his face.

  “Hey.” I freeze, studying him for entirely too long. The only thing that makes me feel better is he’s doing the same thing, his eyes roaming over my face trying to uncover something.

  “What are you doing in my neck of the woods?” he asks, not taking his intense eyes off me. I silently wish he never would and then chastise myself for the thought.

  “Visiting dear ol’ Dad,” I say, pointing over my shoulder at Trey’s door.

  “Oh, I see.” Aiden fidgets with his keycard.

  “Well, we’d stay and chat but I don’t want to,” Joseph says, tugging me down the short hallway.

  Without saying goodbye I allow myself to be led away. “So, Stark,” Joseph says, draping his arm across my shoulder, “do you need a chaperone for dream travel tonight? I’m free.”

  “No, after everything we just learned, I’m old-fashioned dreaming tonight—and by that I mean intense lucid dreaming to keep a certain psychopath out of my head.” I swivel my head just before we leave the hallway to find Aiden still standing there staring at me.

  I give him a half smile.

  “You’re being really tough on him,” Joseph criticizes as we stride back to our rooms.

  “No I’m not, Aiden know
––”

  “Not Aiden, you thick brick,” Joseph says with a laugh. “I was referring to Trey.”

  “Oh, what do you expect? Do you really think we’re all going to Disney World on vacation and everything is just going to be easy peasy from this point forward? That’s unrealistic, Joseph.”

  “If you want people to change or to prove themselves, you have to give them a chance.”

  “Who said I want anything out of this?” I look at him coldly.

  “Roya, everyone wants love. Don’t act like you’re some special exception.”

  “Trey said it himself,” I reason. “I’m like him. He gets I’m standoffish. That’s just the way things are going to be between us. Get used to it.”

  “You should also give yourself a chance to change.”

  “Is that what you’re trying to do? Are you trying to change who you are?” I say, the implications cruel, but also true.

  “No, I stopped tryin’ to do that,” Joseph says, a sad smile flicking to his lips. “I’m just tryin’ to come to terms with who I am.”

  “Well, I can’t argue with you there.”

  “So does George know?” Joseph says out of the blue.

  “Know what?”

  He leans down and whispers in my ear. “That you still harbor feelings for––”

  “Shut up,” I say, putting distance between us. “And no, he doesn’t.”

  “Be careful. Hearts will break and you’ll be the one convicted of the crime. I know from experience that the sentence is excruciatingly long and undignified for such a thing.”

  “Would you mind keeping your love advice to yourself?”

  “Just one last piece of advice,” he says, offering me his pinky. “Promise.”

  I slap his hand away with a sigh.

  “Pops appears kinda peeved at Livingston right now. I pretend not to like the Head Scientist, but he’s actually pretty top notch in my book. So do him a favor and don’t get him in any more trouble.”

  “What? How would I…I’m with George.”

  “Right, right, right,” Joseph says, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I’m obviously misreading the situation. Forget everything I said.”