Dillon already had his pack on, even as Meg moved slowly, almost disoriented. She’d become so used to having Peter constantly in her mind, she felt as if she didn’t know what to do with the space in her head. Even before they had become a couple, Meg had had a strong sense of what he thought. Emotions and ideas coming from him would turn up in her dreams or as a stray daydream in the day. Before that, Meg struggled to remember, but there had been a sense of the mountain as a home. It was almost the sense of going into her mother’s house and knowing her mother was there even if she didn’t call out. This was like going home and finding the house empty, not only for a moment, but perhaps, forever.
Meg followed Dillon. Colleen took up the rear. They’d taken maybe a dozen steps from their resting place when a man stepped out from behind the trees. Meg realized the sounds of small creatures had stopped. There were no birds singing.
“You have an item that belongs to us,” the man said. He was short, not much taller than Meg, and wore a long ugly bluish brown jacket that fit snuggly around his body. He had on a hood with flaps that hung down over the sides of his head. Very dark hair poked out beneath the sides. He was thinner than he ought to be, Meg thought, almost birdlike in the way he was built. His face was oddly elongated, enhancing the birdlike appearance.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dillon said.
“You have the scent of something that’s ours,” the man said. Dillon stepped back, forcing Meg to do the same. Colleen moved to the side. Meg was and wasn’t surprised to see a gun in Colleen’s hand. Dillon had a very dangerous looking knife in his. Meg realized she had nothing at all as far as weapons. She considered her options.
Another man appeared behind them between the trees they had just moved through. He was dressed like the man in front but his hair was shot through with gray. There were more lines on his face. He was the senior of the two, Meg thought. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she understood he was the most dangerous of the pair. The older man held a cartoon like gun. Just looking at it made Meg feel off balance. The man closest to them now also held a cartoon like gun. Meg wasn’t sure when he’d drawn it.
Colleen and Dillon backed up together pushing Meg out to the side. She turned so that the three of them had their backs to each other. She might not have a weapon, but at least she could be their eyes on the third side of their human triangle. She loosened the straps of her pack. Even as she did so, the dark haired man moved in and ripped something from Colleen’s jacket. It was the baggie with the piece of cloth.
He backed up. Colleen looked astonished that anyone had gotten that close. She fired her weapon even as he backed off. The bullet hit him in the leg.
“I suggest you stop,” Colleen said.
The dark haired man looked surprised. Meg could see emotions cross his face, surprise, anger, pain and then they were gone and he was back to business.
The old man, as Meg thought of the grey haired partner, fired his weapon. She ducked. Dillon and Colleen moved apart. A hole appeared in the tree behind her.
Meg moved even before she had an awareness she was moving, towards the old man. She kicked out a leg, hitting his arm and the gun, pumping something that looked like water, but was clearly more deadly, shot straight up. She backed up in time to avoid being hit by a tree branch. A normal gunshot sounded behind her. Dillon leaped past her towards her opponent.
The old man was surprisingly quick. He deflected Dillon’s knife without a hesitation but that put him closer to Meg. She kicked him again, sending him to the ground.
Colleen fought the younger man who still held his own cartoon gun. A well placed chop to his wrist sent the gun sailing over his head towards Meg. She barely ducked in time to keep from being hit. Leaves crackled as it landed. Dillon leaped onto the weapon.
The gray haired man rolled closer to a tree, pointing his own gun in their direction. Meg watched it start to warm up, going from a pale blue to orange. She brought her arm down on the old man’s hand, loosening his grip. The watery innards of the gun went back to blue and then faded completely. She kicked the gun out of reach.
Meg lost sight of her companions, focusing only on her opponent. She kicked him in the head before he could stand. He grabbed her ankle causing her to fell backwards. She slid her arms out of the loosened backpack and rolled, kicking her foot out until the hands were gone. She sprang to her feet.
Turning to face to the old man, she got a quick look at Dillon and Colleen with the other man. He had blood not only from the bullet in his leg but on his side. She wondered if Colleen had hit him when she fired a shot or if Dillon had wounded him with the knife. She didn’t process that Colleen wasn’t holding a gun any longer.
The old man was standing in a fighter’s stance, watching her warily. He circled her, moving closer to the gun. Meg threw a punch to his right side, not intending to hit him, even as she darted to his left. He grabbed her arm. Meg let him pull her in, using his own strength against him as she twisted away, pushing his arm upwards. For such a slight man, he was amazingly strong. His grip broke and she backed up, putting her body between him and the gun. She heard something fall behind her, but she forced herself to focus on the man in front of her. He ran at her, hoping to utilize his wiry upper body strength. Meg sidestepped, but dragged her leg just enough to trip him. Lying on the ground he was barely a hand span from his gun.
Meg fell on top of him, grabbing at his arms and pulling them back. The man bucked and kicked like a wild horse. Meg lost her grip on one of his hands. He tried to push himself up one-handed. He surprised her with the amount of leverage he got, nearly tossing her off his back. A hand cracked a rock across the man’s head. Meg looked up to see Dillon.
The other man also lay on the ground. Colleen dug in her pack and found a length of rope.
“Let’s tie them up and find out what they want,” Colleen said. She wasn’t even breathing hard. Dillon, at least was winded. Meg sucked some air to calm herself. Now that exertion was over, she plunged back into that empty, frightening place where Peter didn’t exist any longer.
Rain
John walked back into the office, bumping into Kaitlyn as she went scurrying through the doors at the stroke of five.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“This is the flight log that Meg found yesterday,” he said handing me the book. “I don’t think it occurred to Peter to take it.”
“But you’re worried?” I asked, looking at him. I heard Kyle in his office, moving papers. Faint music with a dance beat came from RaeLynn’s office.
John hesitated only a moment before speaking. “There were strangers walking around the house today. My daughter wasn’t there and I hope they don’t come back when she is. I know Peter was concerned about the metal drawing them, but when I found this, I thought maybe that’s what they were looking for?”
I set the book on the counter. Zari leaped up on it and started looking at the book.
“Well?” I asked her mentally.
“I can’t read a closed book,” she snapped. She leaped down before I had a chance to say more.
The bell on the elevator dinged, faintly. I almost ignored it but it was late and anyone I would have expected to be here was here. Meg was still on the mountain as far as I knew. A tall thin man with an extra-long jacket or a short coat walked off. He was carrying an odd looking gun in one hand. It was round and clear colored. He brought it up pointing towards us, clearly meaning to shoot.
“Get down!” John shouted. He’d turned with me at the sound of the elevator.
I dove behind the wall that separated the reception area from the hall. John leaped the other direction and hid behind the wall closer to my office. I was glad Zari was on the floor. I could see her in the hall near Kyle’s door. I heard glass shatter. Kyle poked his head out. He carried his own gun. John gave him a slight nod of approval.
The conference room window had a large hole in it. John was lucky he hadn’t been hit with the glass when he’
d made his dive.
“Zari?” I asked.
Zari looked up at me. She peered around the corner.
“This is not good,” she muttered.
“Why?” I asked. I peered around the corner. The man walked further into the office, pointing the gun at me. I had a moment to consider that he looked out of place, so thin and birdlike holding the gun so rounded in shape. It was glowing a deep orange and something moved inside like a wave.
Behind the man, a full bodied woman walked into the office. She was a good three inches taller than he was. Her breasts threatened to tumble out of the greenish gown. The dress looked more as if it were made of leaves than fabric. Her hair was the orange brown color of deeply buried roots. She moved easily through the door although I’m sure she brushed both sides with her fleshy arms. Despite her size, she moved with the grace of a ballerina, although not with the lightness of foot. Each time she stepped I felt the entire building tremble. A few more shards of glass fell from the window on the conference room.
The woman marched in angrily. While there were faint lines on her face, suggesting she was more accustomed to smiling, she snarled at the thin man and his gun. Her eyes held the same coldness as the eyes of the vampire I had encountered. I found the look less frightening in the vampire, as in that creature it was almost expected. This was like being cradled by your mother and suddenly having her grow fangs and claws and begin to rip apart your body. The air around me was still, almost stale, as if I had waited for her for a very long time.
The man pointed the gun towards her. His body was rigid beneath the jacket. His hair and hat quivered although the air was still. I struggled a bit to breathe, as if there was something pressing on my chest. I wondered if I was having a heart attack.
The woman reached out her hand, the dress not covering the fleshy arm, and she took the gun from the man as easily as a mother might remove an object from a baby.
“You can’t do that,” the man said. He sounded puzzled.
“Clearly I did,” the woman responded. Her voice was a pleasant alto that reminded me of my Saturday mornings as a child when my father would take my brother and me to the park. Afterward he’d buy us milkshakes. For the life of me I couldn’t fathom the connection to the sound of her voice and the memory. I’d never seen her or heard her before.
The man backed against the counter. “You don’t know what you hold,” he said.
The woman turned the gun around, looking at it, as if puzzled by it and then looked up at the man.
He scrunched back even farther against the desk, as if wanting to make himself smaller. The coldness was being melted by a fiery anger and it wasn’t something I wanted to see. Her eyes were the same changing hazel as Peter’s. As she stared they turned a deeper orange like the fire at the bottom of a volcano. I turned away, not wanting to watch the change. It was too much, my mind already inventing reasons I hadn’t seen what I know I saw.
I felt hot. I knew if I looked back at her I would see the world burning, so I looked over at Kyle who was flattened against the wall. John had backed into the hallway. His line of sight let him see me and Kyle but not the two people in the reception area. Zari was standing on John’s lap, letting the man rub her head, although her ears were slightly flattened and her eyes had the sharp alert look she got when she was thinking hard.
“You mess with the fabric of creation,” the woman’s voice was lighter than I expected, almost sing song but it also held the tone of command. “And it must stop.”
“This is to clean up our leavings.” The man’s voice was also higher than I expected, like that of a bird chirping. He stammered over words.
“You will injure those here to do so?” There was an edge to the question. This was not a question to get wrong.
“We have to clean up the knowledge of what can happen. We were ordered…” The voice was silenced. I started. It sounded like a regular conversation and then it stopped with the knife edge of death.
I shuddered.
The man was gone. The woman stood alone in our front office. She dropped her hand. Looking over at me again, she no longer appeared angry. In fact, if anything I saw sadness, her eyes, now almost a dark brown that I wanted to lose myself in.
I took a deep breath in, thankful my chest could move once more. The air was no longer stale. Even as I breathed in, sorrow worked its way into my chest as if I breathed in that emotion and not air. I was reminded of the moment I heard when my sister died. My whole body constricted. Tears welled. In that instant I lived that moment once more. I’d been wearing a cheap floral perfume that I could never stand to wear again. No matter how far I ran, that sorrow was still with me. I’d not been able to help. I hadn’t even been able to help myself, I realized, having relied upon Peter more than once to save my life.
“Hush child,” the woman said, moving over to me. Her hand touched my face, lightly like the touch of a breeze at the beach, not chill like a breeze around here would be. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
I wasn’t certain what she meant.
“I’ll need you to make sure Marcus is okay. I believe he was on his way here, and was in the lobby when I came. That’s much too close for him.”
“Did this guy do something to him?” I asked. I wondered if the Cuppa would have a milkshake. For some reason I was thinking about them, the coolness on my tongue.
“No. I believe I may have, inadvertently. He should be okay, although it’s probably best if he doesn’t go to a hospital.” The woman straightened looking around.
“Peter won’t be around for a bit,” she told me. “You may want to get word to Meg.”
Kyle stepped out from his spot, looking at the woman, up and down.
“And you also have questions, child, don’t you? The strings of the worlds are being put right. I sent your attacker back to his own place, although doing so pulled him back with such force that he lives there no longer.”
I watched her hips swish from side to side as she walked towards the elevator as if she would get in. I suspected that like Peter, she would just disappear. Part of me wondered if the elevator would hold her if she did get in.
“What just happened?” John asked. He was still on the floor, but looking over at me.
“I don’t know,” I told him.
“Is it safe?” RaeLynn asked, peeking around her own corner.
“No one is here but us, right now,” Kyle said looking around. He put the gun down on the desk and walked towards the door. I stood up to follow him into the main room. John did the same. Zari came out and leaped on the desk sniffing around.
“She took it all,” Zari said talking about the flight log.
“I wonder who she was,” I said.
“Gaia,” Zari told me, settling on the desk to wash a paw. “And I suspect that Meg is quite distressed at this point.”
“Why?” I asked. I saw Kyle turn back and come in. He was watching Zari A so she was including him in the conversation.
“Gaia is the earth and therefore all elemental spirits. When she takes a form she must use all of herself. That means all the nature spirits, sleeping or not are used to create her form, like a body requiring all its cells to work together rather than letting them do their own thing,” Zari explained. “There are better analogies but none that you would appreciate.”
“That’s why Marcus may need help,” I said.
I didn’t care if my words were a non-sequitor for John. If Marcus was in trouble, we needed to get to him quickly.
“I’ll go,” RaeLynn told me. She went back to her office and was out a moment later with a cell phone. She bustled through the office, swinging her gypsy skirt in the same way Gaia had swung her dress.
“I should go find Meg,” Kyle said, “Or try to.”
I nodded at him. “I’ll see if they’re in cell phone range. Maybe they’re coming back down?”
Kyle picked up his gun carefully and took it back in his office. I heard him move around in there.<
br />
“That’s not something you see every day,” John said.
“No.”
“She reminded me of my wife, you know.”
“Really?” I asked, remembering that John hadn’t heard the mental conversation Zari A and I had had over the identity of this woman.
“Yeah. And rhubarb pie. I don’t know why. I just remember when Beth was little we had a bunch of rhubarb and my wife made pies out of that at least once a week. We were young then. Happy too, I think. I was redoing the garden area for her so she could plant something else. I’m not sure I remember happier days than that.”
I smiled thinking about the milkshakes. Those times had happened when my sister was too young to come along with my brother and father and me. It wasn’t long after that that my father’s drinking started to spiral out of control. Instead of the caring man who held my hand and pushed me on a swing, he started slapping me at the slightest provocation. It was too bad my little sister had never know the man who bought milkshakes. I could still taste the memory of butterscotch on my tongue.
John was clearly savoring his own memories because he had no other questions about what happened, although he couldn’t possibly understand what had happened.
“She does that,” Zari said.
“What?”
“Makes you appreciate the memories you have now so much that you won’t look too closely at what she has done. But she is putting things right. I think she’s suspected this from the beginning.” Zari looked at me. “It makes her sad to have to destroy parts of her creation, no matter why it had to happen. I get the sense that she is not done yet. We can only hope that Meg and Dillon will be safe when she takes care of things.”
Meg
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