Halfblood Journey

by Rheaume, Laura

  Suddenly, her eyes flew open. Her mouth parted, drawing in a sharp breath. Scythe half expected her to sit up, but she didn’t. Instead, she stared forward, her face making small expressions in reaction to things that she was seeing in her vision: a slight frown of confusion, a blink... Then her heart started to beat at a quicker pace, and her breath came deeper and faster as well. One hand twitched and began to shake.

  “Oh!” she gasped, and Heron finally lifted his head and looked over from where he sat.

  He frowned, “Is she having a seizure?” He put his feet down and turned to help, but hesitated when he saw the looks on their faces. “What is going on?”

  “It is like a seizure,” Ian said, looking across from him. “Completely uncontrollable in every way.”

  Scythe finally sat up, and turned to see Temper do the same. She nodded in response to Ian’s explanation, her face sympathetic and grave.

  Mercy cried out again, louder, and Scythe reflexively reached out to her, his hand hovering over hers. Ian...

  You can, it won’t hurt. I don’t know if it helps, but I do it anyway.

  Scythe let his hand fall onto hers and squeezed it lightly, watching her face. Her power brushed up against him as it circled by, sending a strange, prickly sensation across his skin. Mercy’s wide eyes bled from startled to fearful. “No…” she protested, shaking her head slightly. “Don’t…” She squeezed her eyes closed, but they continued to move beneath the lids. “Oh!”

  Scythe could feel how painful it was for Ian to helplessly sit by and witness his daughter’s distress. It became so uncomfortable to witness, that Scythe separated himself from the man’s power.

  Mercy’s face calmed and her mouth slowly clamped shut; her teeth began to grind. Then, the muscles in her jaw relaxed. Her hands stopped shaking, and her whole body went still.

  Scythe thought that the changes in her meant that the vision was about to end, but her power hadn’t waned at all. He jumped when she unexpectedly opened her eyes again and said in a voice he had never heard her use, “Stop.” She was confident and determined, and Scythe wondered who the sharp look could be directed at.

  She stayed that way for only a short while, before the swirling of power began to wane. That was when Scythe discovered that it was really made up of her ribbons, dozens of them, moving around her at incredible speeds. As they slowed, most of them dissolved away, but some remained, slowly coming to a rest and then floating around her like he had seen in the warehouse. His attention was caught by two that delicately wrapped themselves around his forearm.

  The hand under his turned and closed over his lightly, and Scythe looked up to see that Mercy had awoken from her vision. She stared up at her father, her face filled with a sad weariness that Scythe hadn’t expected. He had no idea that the visions were such a burden to her.

  Ian had thrown off his pain for his daughter, giving her an expression of understanding and love. He nodded, patting her arm.

  Then her gaze fell on Heron, who had moved slightly back from them, embarrassed to have been witness to such a private moment. “Please excuse me,” he said humbly, lowering his eyes.

  Mercy shot upward, crying out in dismay when she turned and realized that Temper also had seen everything. Her hands jumped to cover her mouth, and then she turned her eyes back to her father, “I’m sorry.”

  He said calmly, “Don’t be sorry, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “No…” She shook her head. Her eyes were drawn involuntarily back to Temper. “I did…”

  As he watched her, Scythe felt something building in him, building and rising. When it had swollen into a huge mass, it finally fell, embedding itself deeply in his soul.

  “Mercy,” he said, putting his hand on the bench next to Temper and smoothly pulling himself up to sit next to the woman. He looked across at her, waiting for her to see him.

  Her eyes flew to him immediately, responding to his voice, but it took a few seconds for her mind to catch up. Her hands dipped below her mouth, folded over each other, and hovered above her chest.

  “I won’t let anything happen to us,” he said, believing it for the first time. It wasn’t a hope, or a plan. It wasn’t what he wanted to believe. He wasn’t telling her what she wanted to hear. It was the truth.

  Mercy froze for a moment and then nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out. She blinked slowly, and he watched her whole body settle. In her gaze, he could see her complete faith in him.

  He had seen that look before, but had thought it was a childish, silly girl’s dream that was based on her wishes, not on reality. He didn’t feel that way now.

  Once he was sure that she understood him, he nodded shortly; with a quick glance at a startled Ian, Scythe turned and confronted Temper.

  The woman had made room for him on the bench, more than was necessary, but she was not fearful. She had long ago taken measure of his character. Instead, she looked at him with interest, her eyes sparkling with amusement. When he didn’t speak, she raised an eyebrow inquisitively, “Special Agent Scythe?”

  “You will help us,” he realized, having studied her character as well. “You’ve been helping us all along.”

  She nodded, becoming more serious, “I will help you, but only within the parameters of my position and assignment. However,” she grinned, “I think you will find that it is no small contribution.”

  Scythe lowered his head, saying, “I thank you.”

  She responded in like form, “It is my honor.”

  Mercy leaned against her father. She looked more tired than she should have been, and Scythe wondered how hard each vision was on her. She said with a sigh, “Good. I hope this means we can stop sneaking around. It’s exhausting, really.”

  Scythe shook his head, thinking that he had to get on with her lessons.

  Her father, however, laughed and said, “You’re right, and it is very Young-ish of you to want to just be yourself. Why don’t you tell us, before you fall asleep, what you saw this time?”

  “I’m not going to fall asleep, Dad!” she complained, obviously stalling, before sighing and beginning, “Him, Phillip, or whatever his real name is.” She cringed, “He is a very bad man.”

  The thought of Mercy in the same room with the ghost man made ice crawl across Scythe’s chest. He leaned forward, “What happened? Was I there?”

  She shook her head, “No, you weren’t there, but don’t worry. I wasn’t hurt.” She grinned, “He’s no match for a Young.”

  They all stared at her in surprise. Scythe opened his mouth to speak, but Ian beat him to it, “You...you fought with him.”

  “I stopped him,” she shrugged. “He wanted me to do...things...think things that weren’t true. He’s a real monster. I hope we...I know it sounds bad, but...” She shook her head, pressing her lips over the words.

  Ian frowned at his daughter, “What are you thinking?”

  Mercy said, not looking at him but at Scythe, “Scythe knows, don’t you?”

  “Mercy,” Scythe began, but stopped when she narrowed her eyes at him. She had seen the same side of Phillip that Scythe had in Irving’s memory. Finally, he nodded, “We may need to kill him, but I don’t want you involved, han-na.”

  “How can you even suggest that?” Ian demanded.

  Scythe told him about the incident with Irving, including the disturbing images of the murder of a young woman and the Irv’s obvious inability to control what was happening to him. When he was done, all of them sat quietly for a moment.

  “He can change your memories. He can make you think someone did something to you that they didn’t, give you the reason to attack them, kill them, anything, even your own loved one. He can make you strap a bomb to yourself,” Scythe explained. “He had no problems with any of it, no problems with murder.” He said to Ian, “I...I think he made Irving kill a woman, someone he cared about deeply.”

  “No!” Ian protested, horrified. “Who, Kate?”

  “It...I can’
t be sure...but it felt real to me. I put a request in the report to check on Kate, so we’ll know soon enough. I can’t be sure, but it felt very real.” He wished he could erase the images of those moments and the smell of that woman’s blood from his mind. Ironically, it was the smell of the blood that had kept Scythe steady when it seemed like his own hands were slitting Mercy’s throat with the scissors; he knew that it wasn’t her blood. However, that didn’t diminish the horror of the fact that the smell of someone’s blood was there, in Irving’s memory. “He is just the kind of person…”

  He looked at Temper, who nodded and said, “I think the Scere would be very interested in him if they knew the extent of his abilities. He would be a powerful tool to them.”

  “If he could be controlled,” Ian said.

  “The Scere is very good at control,” Temper responded. “Besides, his motivations seem clear. It is easy to work with people seeking things like power or money, and the Scere can offer both.”

  “If they find out about him, and if he lives that long,” Scythe said. He knew what he was going to do if he got the opportunity, especially since Mercy saw him in her vision. He hadn’t forgotten the message that the ghost man had sent him, or the way he had murdered an innocent man in an assassination attempt. He hadn’t forgotten what was spread across the floor of the Huran courtyard.

  “If I may speak?” Heron spoke for the first time, continuing when Temper signaled for him to do so. “I think he fears you, Scythe.”

  “Fears me?”

  “Most definitely. He told you clearly, I believe, in his message that you were to stay away from him, to give up the search. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, why would he do that? Why choose such a graphic method if it wasn’t to run you off?” The young man shrugged. “It seems to me that you have become a significant threat to him.”

  Temper nodded, “The doctor’s apprentice has a good point. I agree with him.”

  “You may be right, but it didn’t work.” There was no way he was going to stop looking for the ghost man now, especially since he was getting close enough to scare the man into seriously threatening him. Scythe had wanted to push the rebels, to force them to do something rash that would help him in the hunt, but he hadn’t expected an immediate, personal attack. “If anything, it increased my motivation.”

  “He doesn’t just fear you, he hates you,” Mercy said with a surety that bothered Scythe. He didn’t want her knowing Phillip that well.

  Scythe said, “Show us your dream, Mercy, so we can see if it helps us find him.”

  She hesitated. “Umm...”

  “It will be clearer if you use your power,” Ian said.

  Scythe nodded, “Alright.”

  “It...it might be hard…” she said uncomfortably.

  “It can wait, then…”

  “For you,” she finished quietly.

  “Who?” Ian asked.

  “Um...It will be hard on...well, either one of you.”

  As usual, she was more worried about how they would be affected than she was about the vision itself. He grinned, “I think we’ll be okay, Mercy.”

  “Ah, okay...” She clearly doubted it.

  He waited, having decided that he would always let her come to him so that it was plain to them both that she consented fully to the use of his gift on her.

  However, she didn’t move. Instead she said, “I’ve been thinking, could we try this?” She used only a tiny part of her power to make six thin ribbons extending from her arms braid into two cords which reached across the space between them. Scythe frowned, not having ever tried to use his power without both touching the person and looking into his or her eyes. It was the only way he knew to draw on his ability. However, he knew that he and Mercy shared a close connection when she used her power, so maybe it would work.

  The braids reached him, hovering and twisting in an invisible wind in front of him. No one else he had met, not even people with strong power, could perceive it the way he could. Certainly the Kin, like Temper and Heron, might be cynical about believing that anything at all was going on, since they would just see two people staring at emptiness. Even Ian, who had one of the strongest powers he knew, couldn’t see but only feel the bands that he could make. Scythe thought it was a shame, because the glowing, pulsing energy could often be incredibly beautiful, like it was at that moment.

  He turned over the hands that were lying on his thighs, and the braided energy dropped down onto his palms. Scythe. She always said his name first, and he could tell how much she loved his response, an instinctive thrill at the warmth just connecting with her brought him. He mentally rolled his eyes at her, something that made her even happier.

  He looked across at her, but she said, Try it without looking, just to see if it works. He lowered his eyes, but couldn’t focus, couldn’t find her mind. She said, My mind is right here, with my spirit…He knew it was true, but knowing and initiating his power were two different animals...You’re not even trying. Why aren’t you using your power?

  His first thought, which surprised her, was that she preached at him just like Lena used to. However, she was right, he hadn’t even gathered his energy yet.

  He shook his head, telling himself to concentrate. He pulled his power into his center and then felt around for where to...There.

  A small sound escaped him when he found himself on the edge of her mind, watching the spheres lazily float by him, hazy images moving across their rounded surfaces. In the end, it had been so easy. All he needed to do was follow the braids of her power to her...her self.

  Show me your vision, Mercy. She loved it when he said her name, and she was so distracted by it that she forgot something important to her. Dozens of spheres jumped forward, so many that Scythe couldn’t even hold them all in his sight.

  Oh! He felt her surprise, but it was nothing to his.

  You...you’ve had that many visions? he asked, astounded.

  She was trying to bat some of them away, but they kept bouncing back, drawn to his suggestion. Yes, but over the years, you know. Since before I met you, anyway.

  I didn’t know that. In the back of his mind, he noted that she was able to maintain near complete control over herself, something that the other people he had used his ability on had been unable to do; once he had control over their thoughts, they were usually helpless. However, Mercy was definitely not. He wondered if it was just her, because she was so powerful, or if he was permitting it without knowing it.

  Well, the early ones I thought were just dreams, so no one knew. Can you...help with this?

  Oh, sorry. He concentrated and thought, Show me the last vision. As one sphere came forward, his gaze fell on another that was floating away.

  That one is not for you! she screeched in his head, completely erasing his earlier affection for that reaction. No looking around!

  Okay, okay! Sorry! It was an accident. To avoid any further scolding, he jumped into the vision.

  The dark swirled around her and she held it close, because she knew that when the dark left, he would come. The door cracked open and let in Scythe, but as the light continued to grow, it was clear that it was another man…

  “Phillip…”

  He frowned at her, and when she fell into his anger, she sunk a long way. At the bottom was a stark fear that gnashed out, but not at her...his poisoned teeth bit into gray skin. Then the teeth retracted and the head lifted up, leaving behind the torn neck.

  He leaned in and rubbed his cheek up against hers. He whispered in her ear, “I have a present for you. A night with your prince. Would you like that?”

  He pressed his lips roughly on hers. She couldn’t even rub her lips off when he left them moist.

  In the darkness, Scythe suffered, and Mercy reached out to him, saying, Don’t worry, that was almost the worst.

  Almost! We can’t...I just can’t let this happen, han-na!

  Scythe. Warm and sweet, like a song, but withou
t the notes, just the pure spirit of the music. We should stop.

  He knew that he couldn’t.

  Yes, we can. She was thinking that it would be better to end it right there, which made him worry more. She readied herself to break the connection between them.

  He pushed forward.

  A man with short black hair, and gray skin slapped her, reached down and pulled on the top of her shirt. She knew...she knew it wasn’t him.

  “I’ll fix it until it’s perfect. Trust me, you won’t know the difference,” Phillip said.

  As the fear that sat at the bottom of his soul rose up and wound itself around her, infecting her, she heard herself say, “Directive?”

  “Yeah, the thing you’re going to want to do to him after he rapes you a couple of times.”

  Hands, on her. The fear shattered, and became panic.

  “It’s gonna hurt him, real bad.”

  Scythe’s hands.

  No. Not that. “Stop.”

  From inside of her, something roared, streaming up and out of her and into the man who held her. It bit off his head, let his body drop still to the ground, and turned on Phillip, whose own beast turned from a monster into a rabbit and ran. She chased him, through the winding tunnels of his hole, snapping at him. She sent her power out to circle around him and hold on, but he was an expert at running. Slowly, he pulled away, stretching the ribbons of her will thinner and thinner until they broke. When she finally looked out of the entrance to the rabbit’s hole, the rabbit had disappeared.

  When it was over, Scythe didn’t let her go, he pushed himself out and away. He covered his eyes with his hand and gripped his temples, “I hate them.” War, death, rape...these were the types of things she had been seeing since before she was nine? It was indecent.

  “Some are nice,” she said quietly.

  He choked out a short laugh. He closed his eyes, but it didn’t change a thing. He could still see it all. “We are definitely going to kill him.” I am going to kill him.