Key peered at him like he was stupid, like Key always looked at him, and somehow Jon knew they were going to be okay.
“I’m not erasing his memories. I’m resetting his clock. Time doesn’t work in a straight line and neither do our memories. It’s all just placed in front of us in a certain way, in a certain context, so it feels like we’re only walking forward. All I did was shift his clock back a little and stored all the other tidbits of memory somewhere else in his head. When the time is right, I’ll unlock it and it will all fall into place. It’s for his protection…and my sanity,” he finished, muttering.
Jon hummed. “Song said she’d be calling in the morning. I’m going to catch some Zs. Unfortunately, I’m too tired to go back to my actual place.”
“Wait.” Key hesitated for a long yawning moment before he reached into the book bag leaning against the wall by his bed and pulled out a device that looked like a clear glass tablet. He pressed his thumb to the bottom right corner and it lit up. He offered the gadget to Jon.
“Is this some kind of futuristic iPad?”
“Uh, sort of. It’s a kite, short for halokite,” he said. Key’s name and rank floated above the surface of the kite in illuminated letters before fading. When Jon didn’t take it with the speed he always took things, fast and without much attention to consequence, Key pushed it into his hands. “I need you to read that,” he murmured, looking away.
Jon stared at him and the tablet for a moment before taking it. As with all things, when he asked Key for answers, he was always afraid of what he would get.
Kithlish,
I hope I don’t have to express that confidentiality of the highest order is necessary in regards to this letter and your mission. If it is found out that I have given you a directive outside of the official one given by The Above, both of us will be in a world of trouble.
As you have been informed, the original plan to keep Jin in Caeli for research on how to separate her from Aria Jinni with least amount of harm to either has been discarded. Due to Ahn’s dereliction of duty, they are pushing the demarcation event forward. Jin’s chances of surviving this are slim.
I am still hopeful. Ahn is still hopeful.
We have to find a way, Kithlish. Neither I nor Ahn accept having Jin’s blood on our hands. It cannot be allowed. I will not have her be a pawn in Caeli’s political schemes or a sacrifice for our war.
Your halokite access to any Caelian resources has been disabled for the time being but I will not leave you without resources.
May The Creator be with you.
Seff
“Why,” Jon said as he glanced between the kite and the angel, “are her chances at surviving slim?”
“It’s complicated.” Key paused, worrying his lip. “Can you sit down first? You hovering isn’t making this easier.”
“I’m not trying to make it easier! I’m trying to get answers and I know! I know! Getting answers out of you is like getting blood from a stone, but you have to tell me what the hell I’m looking at.”
“I will. I’ll tell you everything because contrary to popular belief, we are trying to save Jin’s life and we still need your help.”
Jon wanted to smash the halokite against the ground, wanted to see it break into small pieces, watch as the glass scattered across the floor. Jon took a menacing step towards Key. “How long have you had this letter?” he said between clenched teeth.
Key’s stared at him, acting as unaffected by Jon’s unspoken threat as he did to Jon’s unspoken teasing. “Since before we left.”
Jon laughed derisively. “You want people to trust you but you can’t even–” he paused and patted his pockets for cigarettes. You quit, remember? Pinching the bridge of his nose, he asked, “What is a demarcation event?”
Key sighed. “You don’t know much about Aria Jinni.”
“I don’t want to know anything about her. Not her life, not anything about her being reincarnated, nothing.”
“You need to,” Key stressed. “And it’s not reincarnation. It’s more of a soul fragmentation. We aren’t exactly sure why this happened but we think it has to do with a unique power of Aria’s, a power called Soul Step. It allowed her to transplant her soul or swap it with another’s.”
Jon nodded with the patience you afforded someone who was talking utter nonsense but deserved the chance to explain said nonsense.
“As explained, it was a mutation of her Path powers as an angel. Sometimes her power would fluctuate or destabilize and her soul would latch onto to the person she was in possession of. They would have to do something akin to an exorcism to pry her loose.”
“So she was like a spiritual leech? A ghostly suction cup,” Jon deadpanned.
“So after years of research, they were able to find a way to prevent that. Create a barrier between her soul and the person she possessed. Like oil and water: a demarcation event. The problem we have now is Jin’s soul is in all unprepared for such an event because she was born with Aria’s soul attached. Aria’s soul isn’t an intrusion, it’s an inclusion. That’s…where the probability of Jin’s life comes into question.”
“So moving the date up seems like a really bad move. Catastrophically.”
“Understand that I agree with you but nothing short of the end of the world is going to stop it.”
“Aiden would tell you to destroy the world, then.”
Key looked up at him helplessly and Jon’s hands fell by his sides. “You people,” he laughed the sound devoid of humor. “She could die, Key, die, and you won’t be able to save her this time with your hocus pocus or your prayers or screwing with time. She could die. All over some woman who might or might not be able to help you? You said it yourself. They are not sure that this “Aria” woman will be the same. She could be useless!”
“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I’ve had every question, every reservation, every deranged curious inkling you have? I don’t even know who I can trust up there anymore! That’s why,” Key stressed, “we are going to save her and I’m going to use every resource I can, even Ahn if I have to.”
Jon threw his hands up in the air. “Perfect! The one who stabbed her in the first place! He should be so helpful this time around!” Key didn’t have an answer for that and Jon wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it anyways. He turned away from him and stormed towards the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Away,” Jon answered. “Somewhere where I don’t have to think about how I could be helping ruin my friend’s lives.” He paused. “And I forgot your damn milk,” he said before slamming the door close.
CHAPTER FIVE
“46 Federal Plaza.”
The driver nodded at Aiden’s instructions and pulled from the curb. He didn’t switch on the meter which was strange and possibly illegal but Aiden was tired and didn’t have it in him to think about the legality of a twenty dollar ride. The driver instead reached below the meter and turned on the radio, filling the cabin with some sort of music heavy with bass and synth sounds.
Aiden didn’t recognize the band name flashing across the display but he did notice the tattoo on the back of the driver’s hand. A dark solid black “11”.
Aiden scratched his chin. “Uh, cool tattoo. What does it mean if you don’t mind me asking?”
The driver lifted his hand and inspected it. “Oh, thanks. You know how people have those tattoos where they have kind of lost their meaning? Well, I’m trying to figure out what it means to me …or refigure it out I should say. Loyalty. Allegiance. Do I still have those feelings or is it, all of it, a means to an end.”
Heavy. “Sometimes I feel that way about my badge,” Aiden remarked, his hand automatically going to his pocket where he kept it. Or where he used to keep it.
“Oh!” the man exclaimed, the bright smile on his face reflecting in the rearview mirror. “Didn’t know I had 5-0 in the car!” he said, his tone light and playful.
Aiden laughed with him. “I’m on leave.
Gonna stop by the office to tie up some loose ends and start doing…nothing.” Aiden frowned admitting that. The sabbatical was necessary. He knew he was wearing himself thin, he just didn’t know why. The last six months had been…difficult.
He’d woken up on his sofa bed in the middle of the night with no memory of what had happened to him the day before. Jon was there, sitting in front of his television, a controller in his hand, a football game on the television. He stared at the back of his friend’s head as he raised a hand in greeting but kept playing as if it wasn’t a big deal he was in his living room. Aiden didn’t understand why Jon was there. He would have remembered Jon coming to New York.
Jon offered a satisfactory explanation–the New York field office tapped him in for a case. He flashed a manila folder with red tape and the FBI seal across it and went back to playing his game. When he asked Jon how long he’d be staying in the States, the man snorted and said, “Indefinitely.”
His apartment felt funny, too…as if it were missing something, someone–a fundamental piece that made his apartment feel like home. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.
His phone felt as if it had been wiped clean with only a few contacts remaining: his mother, Jon, and his boss. Half of his closet was empty and his bed was covered in a sheet set that he wouldn’t have picked out. Champagne felt right…navy didn’t. Maybe his mother? But she spent so much time out of the country there was no way she had time to come and redecorate his apartment. She didn’t have the time call or visit him, either.
Plus, he would remember that.
So many things seemed off. He couldn’t figure out why it felt like he had on two left shoes or that someone shoved his life in a blender, pressed puree and left it running for days on end. Aiden didn’t like when things didn’t fall in place, he hated feeling confused and he didn’t appreciate it when he didn’t have the answers.
That translated into bigger things. His performance at work suffered, people avoided him and the conversations they had always sounded like they were going through the same thing, a fuzzy recollection that felt glued together, juxtaposed at weird angles. People would start questions and those questions would just fade off into nothingness, as if they’d forgotten the subject of it.
It was maddening. Why didn’t he remember? Why didn’t he remember a shootout in the apartment above him, attackers in all black, or running for his life? He would have remembered being involved in that. He would remember three strangers. He would have remembered seeing Jin Amaris–a ghost.
He didn’t. He didn’t remember anything at all.
Something caught Aiden’s attention out of the corner of his eyes as they traveled up the street. The thumping bass of the music had been replaced by the smoother sounds of some guitar heavy deep house music.
“Hey,” he said, trying to get the driver’s attention, “you’re heading in the wrong direction, my friend. Federal Plaza is south,” Aiden looked over his shoulder as the lights of the Empire State building began getting smaller behind them. “You’re going east.”
“Oh, am I?” he replied, still staring straight ahead.
“Uh, yeah,” he answered, frowning. “But if you pull this next right, that’ll put you in the right direction.”
The driver grunted in answer and sped up.
“Unless you know another way…” Aiden’s words trailed off when he heard the heavy thunk of the doors locking. Aiden reached for the handle and tugged on it, his frown deepening as the handle gave way but the door remained shut.
“Pull over,” he demanded.
The driver cursed and instead of pulling over, yanked a phone out of his camouflage jacket and smashed his fingers across the screen. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, seeming panicked, until someone picked up. “Are you there yet?” the person on the other side said loud enough for Aiden to make out.
“No! No, I’m not there yet because the stupid music didn’t work! He’s still awake! Is everyone else in place?”
Aiden growled and tugged on the door handle again. Nothing. He went for his gun, realizing as his hand hit empty air that he’d turned it over this morning. He reached over the driver’s seat and grabbed the driver by his collar. “Pull over!”
The car swerved into the other lane and almost hit another car before the driver corrected himself with a yelp. “Knock it off!” he yelled before he shrugged and knocked Aiden’s grip loose. “What?” the driver screeched into the receiver. “I’m not going to shoot him, Feilong! That’s stupid! Where is Pythia Del?”
With adrenaline surging through him, Aiden reached for the man again, but the driver turned the wheel hard, swerving around a corner. Aiden fell back and his head slammed against the window. Grunting in pain, his hand flew to his head and he looked up at the cracked glass.
“Turn up?” the driver yelled into the phone. “I know this music is pretty awesome but we aren’t going to a party! What? Oh! Turn it up! Turn the music up! I can do that! I can do that!” The driver reached for the radio knob and cranked it to the right and the rhythmic sounds not only filled the cabin but pressed against it on every side.
Aiden winced at the volume and attempted to raise his hands to cover his ears but his body was slow to react. He shook his head hard. His limbs were heavy like he was wading in quicksand. There was a sound in his head, nonsensical, like white noise and muddled voices.
He blinked and realized everything was going blurry, his vision a mackle of shapes, water colored and muted. He tried lifting his hands again to rub them but nothing was responding. He felt like gravity had betrayed him, a silhouette of his body holding him down, as if his shadows and demons were trying to keep him still for whatever punishment they deemed he deserved. He was breathing hard with the attempts, his chest rising and falling, his heart beating but he could not make something, anything move. Goddamn it! Please! Move! He tried again, a groan of frustration passing by his lips, but his hand stayed put.
“Oh, shit! It’s working!” Aiden heard the driver say. “The music is taking him out!”
What’s–what’s going on?
The car continued on its path, rolling to smooth stops and controlled turns. Aiden tried to make out his surroundings, stretch his senses past just his vision. Smell something familiar? No. The sky is getting darker. He exhaled slowly, trying to get the pounding of his heart to calm. He couldn’t think with the adrenaline. What time did you leave Dee’s? You’ve been in this taxi for…Come on, Aiden think! Less than thirty minutes?Yes. Okay. Okay. His breathing calmed. Okay.
The cabin of the taxi lit up under an artificial white and Aiden was pleased he could at least lower his lids. The lights began to strobe in and out of the car. The noise changed, from the sporadic chaos of New York traffic to a hollow, loud sound, like wind being forced into a muzzle.
The bridge? Aiden exhaled. If we were heading east then this has to be the Brooklyn Bridge. Which meant they were crossing the river. Aiden tried again and with great effort, he was just able to turn his head towards the window. But where were they going?
The car pulled to an abrupt stop and Aiden tittered forward, his face slamming against the headrest of the passenger side seat. He groaned and hoped his nose wasn’t broken. The doors of the sedan opened and light from the tunnel flooded in, filling the taxi with a steady wash of harsh white. The seat dipped on both sides of him, shifting him away from the headrest and back into the seats. Aiden could just make out two fuzzy figures bookending him in the backseat, their collective warmth seeping through his clothes.
“This is the guy?” the one on his right whistled, her fragrance warm and spicy. “The woman has taste. Delicious,” she purred.
Aiden felt a hand on his shoulder before he was being tipped to the side, his body falling across a soft, warm lap. His hands were jerked behind him and something cold, hard, and metal– handcuffs, he noted–were slipped over his wrists. Without warning, two plush lips pushed close to his ears and warm chocolate tinted breath brushe
d across his skin. “I would ask how you’re doing but I think I already know the answer to that.” She kissed the ridge of his ear, lingering for a minute before moving back. “In any other situation I would be grateful that you’ve forgotten the love of your life, but alas, I need you to remember, buttercup.”
Aiden blinked as the woman continued to comb her fingers through his hair like they were reunited lovers. The love of his life?
They drove in silence, not that they had much choice with the volume of the driver’s music. It didn’t seem to affect the others in any way, almost as if they were immune to the sound and its effects.
It was inconsequential. Aiden continued to track his surroundings–tried to count how many turns they took, how long they stayed on a certain road, and if there were any sounds he could pick up over the noise. There wasn’t much. All of his conclusions were guesswork. South. They were headed southbound. Brooklyn?
Aiden tried to compile a list of enemies who would be in Brooklyn. That would be the only reason he was in this situation–a testimony he’d made as a federal agent, someone he’d busted, a case that he’d overseen. This was payback. Retribution. Revenge. As an agent, he was prepared for that. They talked about it often. “Wow, you’re taking on that case? You must have a death wish.” It was a joke at the agency, but then again–he noted his present situation–it wasn’t.
The car slowed down and pulled to a stop. The music was cut off. The doors opened and Aiden felt himself being jerked up from Sheeda’s lap.
“I hope you enjoyed how sweet Sheeda was,” a woman’s voice hissed in his ear, her tone razor sharp and acrid. “I’m not as nice. I’ll slice your pretty face so bad she won’t be able to recognize you if you fuck with me.”
A Third of the Moon and the Stars Struck Page 5