Silence followed. Pythia Del continued hovering by the door and Shen continued looking at her from his bed. When the seconds stretched into minutes, Shen decided he couldn’t take the awkward silence anymore.
“I think everyone in this house has visited me down here. Even Feilong and I had a decent conversation…short, more staring than talking but nonverbal cues let me know we might be getting somewhere. Granted that doesn’t stop me from wanting to put a bullet in his head, but for the sake of peace, I opted not to.”
Pythia sniffed, her nose scrunching in distaste. “My job isn’t to entertain you. My job is to show you and that happens quite often enough, don’t you think? As much as you complain.”
“It hurts my head, lady. I have every right to complain. But you’ve never visited me to like…hang out. I’m not such a bad guy.”
Pythia Del hummed in answer before she finally, finally moved from her spot bolted by the door. She opened the closet and grabbed a black duffle bag before pulling clothes off hangers and stuffing them into it. Durham had lent him most of the clothes he’d brought with him from his house, saying that he could always buy more. Shen told him he could do the same if they let him leave the house. Durham had laughed and walked away.
“You’re packing a lot of clothes…just how long am I leaving for?”
“A night. Possibly two. It gets cold at the temple,” Pythia Del explained as she dropped the now full duffle bag onto the floor. “Although you do not believe in anything, the monk will want evidence that you do.”
“You want me to play make-believe with a monk all because of a tattoo?”
Pythia Del gave him a look. They’d discussed this tattoo at length during one of her “history lessons”.
“A pacting,” she stressed. “It’s more than just a tattoo, Shen. It is–”
“I know.” He stood up, crossed the room, hovering over her, crowding her back towards the dresser, wanting to see how she would react to him. She didn’t and he tried not to be disappointed. “It’ll grant me protection and enlightenment and a wish plucked straight from a genie’s ass if I’m a good boy. I got it.”
She pinned him with a hard stare. “You’ll have to learn to display more reverence for it if this is to succeed.”
Shen took a step closer to her. He couldn’t explain why he felt the need to antagonize her with his presence. There was something about her that drove him to do it. Maybe it was because she messed with his brain more than anyone else here. “Remember the first time we met? You were shoving your tongue down my throat.”
Pythia Del rolled her eyes and sidestepped him, kicking his duffle bag out of her way. “We were hardly alone. And I did it only because that’s how my powers work on the uninitiated.”
Shen cocked a brow. “Solar told me different.”
“And you’re going to believe Solar of all people?”
Shen crossed his arms and returned her question with a silent glare.
Pythia Del sighed. “Yes. I have many different methods and I used that particular one.”
“Why? Considering the fact that you hardly speak to me now.”
“I did it to prove something to someone.”
“Ah,” Shen returned, nodding as it finally started to make sense. “You used me to make Lucan jealous.” He tongued his cheek, wondering what lengths Pythia Del would go to get what she wanted. “I don’t know if I should be angry or scared.”
Pythia Del’s smile was slow but full of meaning. “Be angry, Shen. We haven’t the time for you to be scared.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kowloon Nuh, Discord
Bright and early, because Jin believed no one here enjoyed sleep–or if they actually slept–Onyu was hovering over her, the same simple expression she always wore. It reminded her of a doe watching her fawn, watching it stumble to walk with patience. Her hair was different again, today, plaited in one long braid that trailed over her shoulder. Her attire was white as always.
“You’re awake,” Onyu declared.
“Observant.”
Onyu opened her mouth to speak but before the spiritualist could ask her the same damn question she asked every damn morning, Jin offered her hand, thrusting it forward. Onyu glanced at it then glanced at Jin before she slipped her hand into Jin’s and gently pulled her from the bed. They walked to the other side of the room, right in front of the windows. Jin resisted the urge to look out the windows again, not knowing what she would see. Last night she saw her room with all of the furniture piled in a corner that reached the ceiling.
Onyu released her hand and dropped to one knee. With quick strokes, she drew something invisible into the carpet. She rose to her feet and with a flick of her hand, a large rust-colored fire pit appeared, a white flame burning over white logs.
“This fire. It’s white. Do you know why?”
Jin’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know it’s white?”
“Because I do. Answer the question.” When Jin didn’t answer, Onyu sighed. “The fire is white because this room reflects inside of you.”
“Because I’m pure?”Onyu snorted. “Hardly. It’s because you’re hiding behind something, so the fire has nothing of you to reflect. Instead, it reflects back everything.”
Jin didn’t appreciate that. “I’m not hiding behind anything.”
“This fire and this room state otherwise. I didn’t say it was a bad thing. Your hand again, please? I want to show you something.”
Trust equals truth here.
Groaning, she did as she was told, laying her hand in the palm of Onyu’s.
“And close your eyes, please.”
She did as she was asked. It was quiet for a long moment, Onyu doing nothing, Jin expecting something. Even the clock seemed to have stopped ticking.
A pain, sharp and hot, sliced across her palm. Jin snatched her hand away.
“What the hell is your problem?” she yelled, clutching her stinging palm to her chest.
“Lesson number one,” Onyu intoned, her gaze unwavering. “Sometimes you trust the right people and you still get hurt.”
“And you consider yourself the right person, you asshole?”
Onyu seemed entertained by the question. She leaned into Jin’s space, her voice dropping low and rich and mysterious. “Who else is the right person, Jin? Who else is here? Your mother? Your father? Aiden?”
The thought of Aiden again flashed across her mind, warm and soothing, and the fire blushed beige for a moment.
One of Onyu’s brows rose. “Interesting.”
“What is?”
“That you feel so much comfort in others. In Aiden.”
“You say that as if it is a bad thing.”
“It’s neither good nor bad. It’s just interesting. Although that doesn’t change the fact that are alone. You only have me. Do you still feel comforted?”
“You’re not the only person here. That other woman…”
“Benja’in-su?” Onyu snorted. “She’s a Morg’ah’nee. She is interested in you because you are a source of entertainment. We don’t get many visitors here. You’re lucky she didn’t parade the others in front of you so they could all gaze at you like you were a bunny rabbit.” Onyu paused and then looked down. “You’re bleeding. Feed the fire.”
Tentatively, Jin eased her hand out over the fire. She squeezed her palm, hissing in pain, and a few droplets fell into the white flame. The fire ate the offering instantly and flared, changing from a blinding white to a vibrant blue, painting the room in the same colors. It’s the first time in days Jin has seen her room be anything else but white.
Onyu accessed the color and crossed her arms, her long delicate fingers tapping against her arm. “Blue. Longevity, faith…trust. You trust far easier than you realize. You want my help even if you fight me the entire way. Good.” With another flick of her hand, two chairs appeared, one behind Onyu and one behind Jin. “Sit. You wanted answers. I’ll give them to you. Are you prepared to hear them? You can’t unring a
bell.”
Jin nodded and took a seat.
Onyu didn’t sit. She circled the chair, once, twice. She paused at the back of the chair, leaning her slender arms on top of it. “There was a physicist. Apparently, he liked cats. This is about cats.”
Jin blinked. “Cats?”
Onyu smiled, two rows of perfect teeth before she purred. “Yes, cats. You like cats, remember?” She flicked her hand and an image of a box floated above the fire. “So, in this box, there is a cat with a dosage of poison. Can you tell me if the cat is alive or dead?”
“Wait. I know this one. You’re talking about Schrödinger?” Jin laughed. “I almost failed college physics because of this. The cat isn’t alive or dead. It’s both alive and dead.”
“And so are you,” Onyu said, her smile sliding into a smirk.
Jin gave Onyu a bored look to pay her for her smirk. “Yeah. This is why I almost failed the class.” Jin crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. “I’m all ears. Why am I both dead and alive? Just for the record, so far I’ve been dead twice, so I hope you have something spicy in your bag of tricks.”
“Three. I can make it four if you’ve not been sated with the delicious kiss of death,” she said as sweet as honeysuckle.
“You’re very rude for a spiritualist, you know that? I expected someone…nicer. Purer.”
“Are spirits pure? Why would a spiritualist be?”
“Makes sense.” The cut across her hand had stopped bleeding but it damn sure still hurt.
Onyu gave her a short smile before diving back into her lesson. “Since you are familiar with the cat guy, I’m sure you’re familiar with the notion that multiple alternative universes exist. Shooting in all directions, getting bigger, getting smaller. Dimensions, planes, levels. Everywhere.”
“Yeah...sort of like String Theory?”
“Whatever you choose to call it,” Onyu said as she circled the chair a final time and took a seat. “I think The Creator was bored and gave us multiple versions of ourselves. To see what we would do. So, there are an infinite number of you, somewhere…doing different things, being smart, being stupid,” she said pointedly, “married…single with cats.” Onyu snickered. “You love the cats and the cats love you and one day you met another cat person. It’s beautiful.”
“This is funny to you?”
“Quite. Now here’s the tricky part. Raise your hand if I lose you–in one of these multiple universes, there is a version where two of you, one dead and one alive, exist in one instance, affecting each other across wide gaps of time and space.”
Jin rolled her eyes. “That’s the most ridiculous answer a yes or no could have answered without you wasting so much time.”
“You’re not even conscious. What time is being wasted?”
That answer struck Jin as odd. “I’m…I’m not awake?”
“No. You are in a coma. Ah, correction. Your body is a pillar of salt while your soul is here with me. You got Lot’s wife’s treatment, sorry to say. You have been in Discord for the last ten days, four of them being spent on the bridge. On Earth, you’ve been “missing” for 186 days. Time moves differently here. Time moves differently in every plane. It’s because time as you know it isn’t what time is. It’s very malleable, fickle and undependable.”
Jin’s eye narrowed and recoiled in a manner that pressed her head and her shoulders back into the cushion of the chair. “I’m sorry but did you just say 186 days? That’s–that’s six months!”
“186 days, twenty-three hours, fifty-nine–wait…you’ve been here for 187 days.”
“Okay, I’m no doctor–”
“I heard you were a brand manager,” Onyu started. “Whatever that is,” she finished dismissively.
“However,” Jin continued, undeterred, “I’m pretty sure that physical trauma, despite how terrible it was and believe me, it was terrible, horrifying actually, doesn’t induce comas. Unconsciousness, yes, but a coma? No.”
“Your pain was physical but the consequences of that? Spiritual.” Onyu flicked her hand a third time. The box disappeared and was replaced with another image. This time it was the image of a woman. Brown skin, twisted hair, tattooed covered arm and the tell-tell sign of a sword strapped
across her back.
Jin blinked at the image. “That’s Aria.”
“Your mind is like a steel trap, eh? Nothing gets passed you.”
Jin gave Onyu another short smile in response. “Other than her having my face and appearing whenever she wants and being rude, like you, what does she have to do with me? Nobody would tell me, not even before they made me a human shish kabob.”
“I hate to admit it but sometimes that place is all ‘do first and ask for forgiveness later.’ Considering the wealth of knowledge they have, they can be very, very shortsighted.” Onyu cleared her throat. “I’ll give you a crash course. Then we have somewhere to go.”
Jin’s face lit up. “Home?”
“Nice try.” The woman you “met” on the bridge was a living apparition from a discarded timeline belonging to her son. You met a shade of Aria, a version of her that existed in a version of an actual event. The real Aria was much more than that.”
Jin frowned. “That’s swell and all but get to the part that matters–me. She has my face, okay, but being doppelgangers has never been a reason for harassment. Why does she keep showing up? I’m no warrior, no angel. Why is she so hell-bent on appearing in my dreams?”
Onyu smiled. “She, in her very essence, has everything to do with you. And you with her,” Onyu stated. “You and Aria don’t resemble–you’re identical, down to your very last fiber. This is so much more than cheekbones and the point of your chin. It’s so much deeper than genetic strands and chromosomes.”
“Please,” Jin grabbed her head. “Please start to make sense.”
Onyu looked at Jin with blind eyes that could see everything. “She is
you and you are her. You are Aria Jinni.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“A top-secret mission?” George snorted. “Okay,” he said, dismissively.
He stood tall and unimpressed in a living room that looked straight out of a dystopian novel. There wasn’t much furniture except for a long beige couch, four bar stools and a makeshift coffee table crafted, poorly he might add, out of slabs of concrete and stiff wood planks. He eyed the two doors, each on far sides of the apartment, then the rolled up comforter and pillow at the foot of the couch. Two in beds and one on the couch. It was something he couldn’t understand. They were allotted enough money for missions to be able to afford something better than this.
Although their living situation looked dire, their surveillance set up was up to Caelian standards. On the wall were three large gleaming flat screens, an image of a fox’s head cut across them. A series of cables ran from the bottom of one towards the makeshift coffee table where a set of laptops sat–one red and one white with peculiar decorations.
The apartment was packed with people. Song was leaned against the wall near the corner, ignoring everyone in the room for a game on her phone. On the couch were three others, two he had never seen before but he could tell they were Caliean. They looked young. The woman stared at him with cool grey eyes while the young male looked up at him with curiosity. Both looks made sense. To them, he wasn’t George Elder, someone with the appearance of a man in his forties in a nice suit. To them, he was Shemhazi no Semjâzâ, an urban legend told late at night while they were tucked in their beds. To them, who had to have been children at the time, he was a nightmare, the boogie man under the bed, the one who bought war to their realm.
George eyed Kithlish and Kithlish eyed him back. Kithlish was different because Kithlish knew. Kithlish had seen, lived through it, survived it. So his stare, while as cool as the young woman, was deadlier, wiser. Not that it mattered to him. The truth was the truth. He’d gone against Caeli. It was written in Caelilore and it could not, and would not be stricken or rescinded. Shemhazi betrayed the
realm, and if the same circumstances repeated themselves, he would do it again.
These weren’t the same circumstances.
He looked at his daughter. She’d followed him against his wishes. She and Zicon sat in a corner by the door, looking like two skittish birds. By her being here, she would hear things he wasn’t sure he knew how to explain, things he’d wanted to tell her long before today, things he lacked the courage to admit. If the truth comes out, Shem, it comes out. She loved and respected George Elder. Imane didn’t know Shemhazi. Would she love him just as much?
“You didn’t have to do this. You’re under no obligation to help Caeli,” Kithlish finally said, his arms and legs crossed, his posture closed off. “Frankly, when Song told me, I thought she was shitting me. You, of all people, helping us?” he scoffed.
“A ‘you’re welcome’ would have sufficed.”
Kithlish’s frown deepened. “What motives do you have for helping Aiden? One would think you would stay out of these matters. Isn’t that why you fled to Earth to begin with?”
“I was in the right place at the right time and decided to do a decent thing. If I knew you were going to have a problem with that, I would have left him there.”
“You?” Kithlish huffed. “The decent thing? Fool yourself all you want, but you can’t fool me. Are you still connected with The Eleven? Are you still their leader? Is this a trap? A way to make us drop our guards?”
George stared at him, chuckling in disbelief. He turned to Aiden, who looked absolutely lost. He was clutching a pocket watch necklace between his hands like it was the only thing keeping him on the ground. “I’m glad we were able to get you back to your friends safely,” he offered, clapping the rather pathetic human on the shoulder.
A Third of the Moon and the Stars Struck Page 12