“Honey, it’s okay if you cry.”
Mercy nodded again and did, one hand on her father’s chest and the other beginning to close over Scythe.
-----------
Little pebbles skipping down the mountainside scattered the wildlife before them. The animals always, always ran, because they knew that, while sometimes it was just a couple of rocks, other times it was the whole damn mountain.
It was all falling apart.
Scythe had taken a walk after Temper left with Adan...after he had stayed when he should have gone. Standing outside Huran in the cool desert night, away from the walls and with only the soft echoes of the sounds that many people living in a small place made, he stared vacantly ahead.
He shrugged his shoulder, trying to shake off a little thing that was still tugging on his arm: a delicate hand that had just touched him, so lightly, but then slowly closed itself over the heavy material until his shirt was clenched tightly in a fist. That quivering hand had eventually calmed and lifted from his arm, but not without leaving its soft trembling behind to spread throughout his body.
“I can still walk away,” he said to the desert. The desert listened.
After the meeting, he had been having trouble concentrating on Captain Reave’s words, because something nearby had started to waver. It wasn’t a clear sensation, more like a tickle at the back of his brain. He looked at Ian, but the man didn’t appear to notice. Scythe was reaching out, testing, when he felt that something bubble up.
“I’ll be right back,” he had said, and left the room, walking quickly. Behind him, there was stunned silence and then Ian’s step.
“What is it?”
Then the bubble expanded and Scythe cursed himself for not noticing that someone with real power was in the compound. He moved faster. He wondered if it could be the ghost man, using his considerable ingenuity to sneak in right under their noses.
Then the bubble had collided with a power he knew and he lost his mind.
Now, it was smug. It was so irritatingly confident that it just sat back with its feet up and amusement in its eyes. It didn’t even argue with him; it merely watched while he struggled.
“Stay away,” he threatened. Scythe knew what it meant to have that one back. It meant pain, unendurable pain, and fear, and complications, and problems with no answers.
He cursed into the night. Right now, he had answers. He always knew what to do. Life without answers was hell.
Could a demon smile from inside of you? Sure, it just used your mouth.
Scythe pinched his lips together, but he could still feel it glowing inside of him, the demon’s smile. It knew it had gotten a hold of him, reached up and clawed its way up from its prison deep down in Scythe’s soul. What tiny nook had given it a foothold? An innocent little thing.
The shock, when he first saw her in the warehouse.
A claw grasped onto a knobby rock
Her power, reaching out to the dead.
and pulled,
Her face when she saw him, her arms open for a hug.
stretching,
Lying on the floor, trying to be brave,
grabbed another,
The flash of her eyes when she challenged the captain.
wedged a hand into a crack,
Whispering his name with her soul, Scythe…
and made a fist to lock itself in,
The way she worried about him, when she was the one in trouble.
lifting its eyes to look up at its goal,
Mercy.
triumphantly.
“I can still walk away,” he argued. The desert listened.
Fool yourself if you want, but we both know what happened when you realized she was defending herself against his power. That was the end, for you.
“You did that.”
No, it was you, dumbass.
“If I don’t walk away, I’ll die.”
You are already dead. I want to live again.
“Humph, you always mess things up.”
Yeah, all screwed up and crazy. Let’s go.
“No. I like things the way they are.”
Brother, it’s over.
“Brother? That is just like you. I hate you.”
I hated you first.
It was joking around. Damn demon. “I’m not leaving.”
I’m not asking you to. I need you.
“Of course you do. You’d have me in a body bag before the week was out.” Scythe sighed, “The whole thing is just about impossible. We’re all going to die.”
I’m not going to die. I want to live!
“How?”
Silence.
Scythe barked a laugh at himself, a harsh sound that kicked up dirt when it ran off into the night. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. It isn’t enough to want to be able to...
Then out of nowhere came the memory of words he had heard just a short time ago: When you enter, there is no connection, no exposure, only the strike. That is why your entrance is weak. He still didn’t know what they meant, but something about them was drawing him anyway.
“I’ve been trying to see my enemy...but...I can’t…” An idea took root.
We can do it, brother.
“We’ll see.” Scythe sat down on the cold, hard ground, draped his arms over his knees and started to plan.
The desert wind blew.
Chapter 12
“There is no other way, Ian. I need to see her vision, the one that started all of this,” Scythe insisted. “And, I need to see the ghost man.”
Ian shook his head, “No.”
Scythe sat down on the chair in the small room they had taken over, a tiny office with barely enough room for the two chairs, the desk and a couple of filing cabinets. Mercy sat in the other chair and Ian leaned against the desk with his arms crossed.
Asking to use his power on Mercy was the last thing Ian had expected Scythe to say when he closed the door. After Temper had taken Adan away, Scythe had gone to postpone the meeting with Reave until the morning. He had disappeared for an hour and returned with a weary but determined expression. Instead of turning in for the evening, Scythe had asked to see them privately and had led them to a quiet section of Huran’s offices that was dark and unoccupied at night.
Now Scythe wanted to use his ability to pick apart Mercy’s memories, and everything inside of Ian protested against it. He had seen how the process had hurt Phillip, and he wouldn’t have it for his daughter. “You are not doing that to her.”
Scythe considered and then said, “Okay, then. Can she show me with her power?”
“Together, yes, all right, but does it have to be tonight?” Ian looked at his daughter, who was already worn out after her ordeal. She sat in the chair, watching them go back and forth with interest. The fog that lay over her inner voice, her droopy eyes and her uncharacteristic silence told him that what she needed was a good solid eight hours of sleep, not an interrogation. After all, she was still recovering.
“Yes.”
Ian made an effort to be patient, because it was obviously important to Scythe to get the information immediately. After a breath, he asked Mercy, “Is that okay with you, honey?”
She nodded, “Sure, I can show it to you.”
She scooted her chair forward and held out her hands, one to Scythe and one to Ian. Mercy’s hand felt so small in his, even though it was nearly as large already as his wife Faith’s. He closed his fingers around hers and their powers entwined. Since he was so in tune with his daughter after years of practice, he could feel her joy at having an excuse to connect with Scythe again; right there he could feel how much keeping his distance had hurt her.
Because she was joining them, she was the center of their union. Ian rode like a feather on her wind, watching and seeing what she wanted to show them. He felt Scythe there, too, another feather, twisting and turning around her current. Then her voice tied a string to them and pulled them along. Here goes.
Ian hovered in shadows
until the darkness faded away, pushed back by a light that rose like the sun in front of them. Its rays shone on the hazy forms around him: pale, uneven bricks appearing in small clusters, cement beneath him, moving forms that coalesced into phantoms of people who, passing by and away from sight, dissolved into wisps. His sight began to sharpen in certain areas, and he could make sense of what was happening there, but everything else was fuzzy.
Mercy huddled along the wall of a tall, gray building. Screams erupted around her, as did the smoke and the fires that made it. Her heart was racing in her chest, and she was shivering from the cold night air. She crouched down, and an abandoned cart next to her came into focus when she laid her hand on the painted wooden wheel. The cart faded to a dull, washed out hue and three shadows sharpened into three Kin, running by her without noticing that she was there, their arms loaded with bags or boxes of their possessions that were hastily grabbed from evacuated homes. Then two more came and went: a man carrying his crying child. Down the street, she could see flames ducking in and out of several buildings, businesses with apartments over them. There were small shop signs hanging over the doors and, higher up, modest balconies with plants and hanging laundry.
“Over here!” someone yelled, and Mercy turned her head to see a group of five Kin soldiers jogging down the street toward her. “You!”
Despite her fear, Mercy didn’t run. She knew that she was supposed to wait for them; she had the same feeling that she always had in strong visions: a calm acceptance that whatever was happening was inevitable.
“A Human!”
“We got one! What, a girl?”
The first one to her grabbed her arm and pulled her upright, “Are you involved in these attacks? Are you a terrorist?”
“No!” she swore, made more frightened by the savage way he had yanked on her arm.
The soldier frowned, and turned to his right. “You two take her in.” He pushed her over to a man who immediately linked her hands in front of her with plastic bands. The leader spoke into a mic at his shoulder, “Unit three. We’ve got one, a Human female. Sending her to section thirty-four detention.”
They all were shaken by the explosion that went off at the end of the block. Mercy tried to reach out to catch her balance, but couldn’t do it with her hands tied. She was knocked into the wall with the tall man; her head struck hard and she saw a flash of light and then stars. When the stars faded, she found herself on her knees leaning up against the bricks. Her head pounded and two fingers on one hand were throbbing with pain.
“Shit,” the man in charge of her cursed, “Get up!” He gripped her shoulder, pulled her up and started down the street with another soldier, a woman. Mercy felt good to be moving away from the explosions, and wondered vaguely why the rest would run in the other direction. She looked back at their retreating forms and thought she probably should have told them that it wasn’t a safe way to go.
Then she forgot about them because something worse had shown itself in front of her.
“How could they do this here?” his partner asked, her eyes scanning the street.
“We’ll ask this one when we get a chance,” he answered, pulling Mercy up against the wall next to an alley and signaling with a gesture.
Peering into the narrow backstreet before them, Mercy called out to the woman just as she was about to enter, “Don’t go.”
“Shh!” He shook her and then gripped her tighter.
Even though it hurt to pull against his grasp, Mercy stepped forward and shouted, “Don’t go down there!” The woman paused and gestured sharply for silence.
“Shut up!” Mercy was pulled roughly back, a hand wrapped in her hair. With her head held close to him at an angle, she felt his breath on her cheek. “I’ll tape your mouth, if I have to. You want that?”
She shook her head, and he let go, clutching her shoulder again.
The woman went into the alley, her weapon ready. When she reached the end, she raised her hand and waved them on; then she turned her back on them and looked up and down the street. When they were halfway to her, the woman glanced back at them. She cursed, turned toward them and yelled, “Down!” She lifted her weapon, pointing it at them. Mercy was shoved to the ground. The sounds of shots and jumbled voices faded away with the image.
Mercy pulled her hands out of Scythe’s and Ian’s, wiping at her forehead with the back of her hand. “That was tricky.” She smiled weakly and then slouched in her chair.
Ian felt like his heart was going to explode. He stared at Scythe, who looked about the same as he always did; but, having just been connected to him, Ian knew that the young man was just as shocked as he was.
“Mercy, you...you didn’t tell me you were in the attack. You just said you saw that they would attack.” He rubbed the side of his head with his fingers, “Oh, hell. You…you could be killed.” His stomach turned over and for a few seconds he thought he was going to be sick.
Scythe asked, “Mercy, do you know how you get there?”
“No, all I know is what I showed you, but that...that wasn’t everything, that is just what I could remember. The real one was longer.”
“What would happen if you went back to your home now, today, and never ended up there?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know.”
Ian closed his eyes, thinking hard. “Faith said that for her the soft visions were ones that could still be changed, but the other ones, the clear ones always came true. Think, Mercy. Was this a soft one or a clear one?”
“I don’t really understand that. They are all pretty clear; the only difference I’ve noticed is that some are weird. The visions can be kind of freaky, sometimes. Like, at the warehouse, I had one where the building swallowed me up and then licked everything with fire. Not this one, though. This one was like I showed you. I don’t know, Dad.”
“Well, I think I might at least be able to find out where it is,” Scythe said. “We could really nail down the spot if we could see what those signs said. I couldn’t read them. Can you try to remember?”
Mercy closed her eyes, but shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Ian said, taking her hand, “Let’s look again and try.”
The second time was no better. Though they focused, neither of them could make out what the signs on the businesses said.
Scythe didn’t say anything; he just looked at Ian expectantly.
“I said no, Scythe. It is a violation, and I don’t want you doing that to my daughter.”
“Dad,” Mercy surprised him by interrupting, “do you really think Scythe would hurt me?” She gave him a full serving of her ‘Don’t you know anything, Dad?’ teenager attitude.
“Mercy, you don’t know what you are talking about,” Ian said.
“I saw it tonight, but I also saw him another time, remember? When Lena was hurt, after we were held by the Kin? He was gentle, Dad.” She looked from Ian to Scythe, “I think I can decide for myself, anyway, can’t I?”
Scythe shifted in his seat, but didn’t speak.
Ian expelled a breath heavily, and then answered, “Yes, I guess you can, Mercy. But,” he directed his gaze at Scythe, “you will stop if she feels the even the slightest bit uncomfortable.”
Scythe nodded, but he looked unsure for the first time. He said to Mercy, “I don’t know, honestly, how it will feel to you.” He turned back to Ian, admitting, “It’s been a long time since I even cared.”
Ian frowned, wondering what had brought the change in the young man. It was the first time he had seen him without his usual air of confidence since he had arrived. Now that he thought about it, it was the first time he had seen him show any feelings at all. What was going on with him? Scythe’s hesitation and his concern about hurting his daughter made Ian feel better immediately. “Okay, let’s give it a try.”
Scythe nodded, but didn’t move. He looked like he was still deciding what to do.
Mercy also seemed to have noticed Scythe’s odd behavior, because she looked at h
im curiously for a moment before she astonished them both by standing up and stepping up to him.
Scythe leaned back in the chair when she said, “Something like this, right?” She took his hands and brought them to her shoulders.
Scythe swallowed and nodded. Ian felt his friend’s power contract, and he stood up reflexively. He watched his daughter closely and put his hand out when Mercy gasped, but within a few seconds she relaxed again. When she smiled Ian leaned back against the desk.
Shortly, Scythe’s hands lifted gently off her shoulders, and Mercy stepped back. “That was amazing! Dad, it was so clear, like the real thing,” she exclaimed, turning to Ian with bright eyes and a wide smile. As natural as breathing, she sent him a ribbon and when it touched him, he connected with her. He felt her wonder and excitement. Dad, it is the Scythe I remember. When he stands there in my mind, I can see him! He thinks that he is the only one who can see, but he’s wrong. I can feel him, too! It’s him! I was so...sad and just scared before, because I thought he had changed into this cold person. But, I’m not worried now. And Dad, he really needs us!
Ian smiled, catching her enthusiasm; he also felt a wave of relief, and not only because Scythe had been able to use his power safely with her. He had been concerned about some of the same things his daughter had worried about.
A glance at Scythe took his mind off Mercy’s reaction, though, because the young man was still acting just as uncharacteristically as before. In fact, he looked about as unbalanced as Ian had ever seen him. He hadn’t moved from his seat and was holding himself very still; he was watching them both, but Ian could tell that he was only half focused on what was going on in the room. He probed, “Thank you, for being so careful.”
Scythe nodded and said quietly, “I saw two signs clearly. I’ll look them up tonight, to be sure, but I think I know where it is.” His voice caught in his throat, and he looked away from them, closing his eyes briefly.
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