by Amber Kizer
“Is it that lady again?” He couldn’t seem to let things hang, as if he were forever impatient. “Is she bothering you still?”
I nodded, latching on to any feasible explanation.
“Want me to teach you some self-defense moves? I took a class.” Sergio did a few staggering, comical chops and kicks that had Fara laughing so hard she couldn’t speak as she came back in.
“Um, no thanks?” I said as he sat back down. “I’m sure you’re really good, but that’s not my, um, style.” Complete sentences, Juliet. Try them.
He nodded. “No, really, what’s going on? Nelli come up with something more about your family? I’ve been inputting data as fast as I can.” He wiggled his fingers as if to demonstrate.
“I’m looking for my dad,” I said, because he seemed to already know that. Nelli must have told him.
“Is he alive? My mom died in a car crash. Do you know what happened to yours?” Sergio’s expression was sober and caring.
“She died too. I don’t know about my dad.”
“Wow, I’m sorry. I hope he’s okay.”
Fara asked, “Do you have any brothers? Sisters?”
He shook his head. “A brother. I’m trying to find him. We were sent to different foster families when we were little. I don’t even know if he’s still in Indiana. He’d be fifteen now.”
My heart bled a little seeing the pain in his eyes. “Now I’m sorry. That must be really hard,” I said. I knew what siblings who were split apart went through—so many came through DG not knowing where the rest of their family was.
“Yeah, it is. I’d do almost anything to find him. Be a family again.” Sergio drank a huge gulp of his Coke. He pointed to our shoes. “Did I interrupt something? You look like you’re getting ready to go out.”
“Uh, well …” I wasn’t sure how to answer.
“Juliet thinks she dropped a book at the cellar the other night. We were so scared we didn’t have a chance to go back.”
“Let’s go.” Sergio leapt to his feet. “I’ll go with you.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that.” I felt panic well.
Fara didn’t try to rescue me. I knew she wanted to sabotage my plan. “I’ll drive.”
“Cool.” Sergio left the soda can and tickets on the coffee table but picked up his backpack.
I squirreled my mother’s book into my bag and followed them. Ms. Asura won’t talk to us in front of Sergio, will she?
“I don’t see anything.” Sergio swept the cellar with his flashlight again. “Are you sure you left it here?”
“I don’t know.” Think faster, Juliet.
“Back so soon?” Ms. Asura’s voice preceded her descent down the stairs. “And you, how interesting.” She spotted Sergio but didn’t hesitate to continue. She stayed on the steps blocking our only exit.
“Did you pick up a book around here?” he asked, setting his jaw and stepping forward as if he could protect us.
“A book? Here?” She laughed. “I like to read dirty stories, but not this kind of dirty.”
I cleared my throat and said, “If you did find something, I would trade you for this.” I held out my mother’s book.
She nodded to Sergio. “Hand me that, young man.”
He frowned and I had to shove it into his hands. He leaned forward rather than walking too close. Even he knows she’s not a good person.
She flipped through it. “This? This doesn’t interest me.” She threw it into the mud at our feet.
“Hey, that was uncalled for.” Sergio knelt and tried to wipe the dirt off the cover with his sleeve. He reached into his backpack for a napkin.
“You’re becoming tedious.” Ms. Asura sighed. “The key. We want the key.”
“The key to what?” Sergio stood up, shaking his head. “This place isn’t locked.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time to play games with children. Find it. You’re running out of time.” She turned to leave.
“Wait!” I yelled. “I need to know more. I don’t know what to trade you to get back what I left here.” I glanced at Sergio, hoping he wasn’t smarter than Kirian and that speaking in vague terms might go over his head.
“Not pretty pictures. You might want to go take a gander along the banks of the creek. I think you dropped yours out there.”
By the time we’d clamored up the steps, she’d disappeared down the drive in her sports car.
We ran along the property to the edge of the creek. There, hanging from the branch of my tree, was Rumi’s open portfolio. Below it, swirling in the water’s currents or heading downstream, were bits of dissolving papers. Rumi’s ink drawings of windows, notes, collections of letters.
I threw myself into the water, Fara and Sergio beside me, collecting the pages as quickly as we could.
“What is all this?” Sergio called, heading into the worst of the eddies to get to the ones stuck near the other side.
We didn’t answer him as we relayed pages and ripped pieces to the shore. Ruined. It’s all ruined.
Huffing and puffing, we fell against the grass when we’d collected everything we could. The old leather swung from the tree above like a macabre reminder I’d never have the upper hand on the Nocti. Never escape from the pain that I brought to those around me.
“What was all this?” Sergio pressed, trying to spread the crumpled mush flat.
“It was all I had to find my parents,” I whispered.
He nodded. “Maybe when they dry out? Maybe you can read it then?”
“We need to take them to our friend. Maybe he can fix them.” Fara clasped my hand and pulled me to my feet. “We need to go now.”
Sergio carefully helped load the sticky, disintegrating pages into the trunk of Tony’s car. “Do you want me to go with you? I have a class, but I’ll skip it if you need me—”
“No, thank you,” Fara answered him. “You are very helpful, but there’s nothing else you can do today.”
We drove in silence, Sergio sneaking glances at me. I didn’t have the ability to reassure him at all.
“You can just drop me off up there at the bus stop. I’ll, um, call you tomorrow? Okay?” he asked me. He reached into his backpack. “I almost forgot—here’s your book. I don’t think the dirt hurt it too much.”
I think I nodded. I had almost let him walk off with my mother’s sonnets. I clutched it to my chest.
When Fara parked outside of Rumi’s shop, she paused. “This is part of your path.”
“He’s never going to forgive me.”
“He will when he knows you tried to give up yours for his. That’s something.”
“It’s not enough.” I swallowed. “It’s never enough.”
CHAPTER 29
Faye was sunk in on herself. Barely a shell of who she’d been at the wedding even three days ago.
“She’s been nonresponsive since late last night.” Gus hugged us. He, too, seemed to have aged and worn thin at the edges.
Rumi arrived bearing bags of takeout—burgers and waffle fries from Bub’s, pizza from Uno’s, doughnuts and sandwiches from Auntie Em’s, lasagna and meatballs from Donatello’s. As if he’d picked up food from each restaurant on his way down Main. “Comfort food.” He shrugged. He’d already strung newly blown Spirit Stones, glass birds and fireflies, along the terrace doors and windows. To make all these new pieces, he must not be sleeping.
A vase of wedding flowers with butterflies and birds on sticks tucked between the stems was another gentle reminder that life was lived in breaths and moments. Nelli fussed with them, changing the water, rearranging the blossoms.
It was as if we were all trying to do our best to do something, anything. And yet, all we could do was let Faye’s body let go one cell at a time.
A big-screen television played in the corner of the room, the only reminder that life in the world around us continued to spin and turn, even though in this room it felt as if time stood still.
“Were you at the track when t
he crash happened?” Gus asked Tens.
“Yes, but we didn’t see it. I was tailing a group of suspicious guys.” We’d decided this was not the time to tell Gus that Sergio was playing us.
“You track them down?” Gus asked.
“Not fast enough.”
“Did you see it here?” I asked Gus. “What happened exactly? The radio commentators were all over the place.”
His face full of sadness and disbelief, he reported, “One of the drivers is in critical condition. Two others are in serious condition. Brain trauma, broken bones, burns.”
“Are they going to be okay?”
“No one’s saying. Looked like tires blew out or maybe an engine seized. They’re still analyzing the footage.”
I grabbed a napkin and quickly sketched the tattoo. “Did you see anyone with this?”
“Is that the symbol Juliet was told to find?” Rumi asked.
“I have to ask her, but it was on the balloon that day and I think I saw a tattoo like it,” I answered. I didn’t think I’d seen the marking in Auntie’s journal or anything that Rumi showed us.
“A couple of the emergency crew wore patches like that maybe? I’m sorry, kid. I wasn’t paying that close of attention to know if I saw it or not.” Gus sighed.
A deep, resounding exhale from Faye was followed by moments of nothing before her chest gulped air. We all froze and then continued.
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. I saw a couple of impressive race fans.” I changed the subject and regaled him with stories about who and what I saw on the other side of the window. By the time I’d finished, we chortled, because I had to make up words for a lot of what I saw.
“Oh, you mean the crew boss?” Gus chuckled. “It’s like listening to Rumi with your made-up talk about the cars and racing.”
I’d added layers to my descriptions. Auntie wrote about tears and laughter and being on the same continuum. Seemed to me while we were sitting here talking, eating, and telling stories next to Faye that we were on that continuum ourselves. Waiting for the grief but trying to live a little in the meantime.
Juliet and Fara came in with Tony and helped themselves to food. They sat on the floor. The room wasn’t large, but we all wanted to be here. I tried to catch Juliet’s eye, but she avoided me, as if she had another secret. I almost sighed. What now?
I happened to glance over and saw Mini under Faye’s bed, twitching her tail and watching all of us, her stony expression unreadable. The few remaining bandages weren’t so white and were picked and clawed at as if she’d felt unbearably confined in them.
Custos nosed opened the terrace door and joined in our vigil. The storm was gone, blown through as quickly as it came up. The sky was a darkening blue, a few stars shone down, but the air was warm. The light breeze blustered with a sweet fruity aroma as if the Creators swigged grape soda before exhaling a sigh across us.
Tony finished opening the doors at Gus’s motion. The room felt twice as big and as if we’d invited the world to join us.
Delia came in. “I’m checking in for this shift. I’ll be Faye’s nurse tonight.” She tripped over Custos. “I did not see the dog here”—she winked—“but see if you can’t get them to sit across the room, away from the door, just in case someone else has better eyesight?” She smiled as Mini and Custos did exactly as asked. Delia sighed but shook her head. I’m sure that isn’t the weirdest bit about this. “We have a harpist who will be here in a couple hours. Do you want me to have her play?”
Gus’s face crumpled as he said, “I think that would be nice. Music is Faye’s life.”
“Very good. Call me if you need anything else, okay?” Delia snagged a cookie Rumi held out to her.
Time passed and conversations ebbed and flowed. Tony unwrapped a notebook of more Indiana history and books of history he thought might be relevant to our search. I picked up a book about Buddhism. I was searching for more information on how the yogi had gone to the Light on his own. It might explain how to aid Roshana and Auntie without their remains.
After a time, Bales joined us, beelining for a kiss and a tight hug from Nelli. After hellos, he sat himself near Tens and me. “We need to talk,” he whispered low as Gus turned up the volume of the television for the night’s newscast.
As they showed the crash and aftermath for the tenth time, we moved to the terrace and Bales leaned close to say, “I got a call from a friend on the force that they’re setting up a serial-killer task force. He gave me a list of locations they’re waiting to search until next week’s news conference.”
“Serial killer?” Could humans think Nocti were serial killers? Maybe. Especially if they crossed the line and aided in the bodily death. Fenestras didn’t kill people to take their souls to heaven, but DG alone was proof that Nocti operated differently.
Bales nodded. “We’re not the only ones turning up remains. The designation helps the locals put more resources on the case. There’s a rumor the FBI is showing up to take over.”
We nodded. More resources meant more people poking around, not a development that would make the Nocti comfortable. And not one important to figuring out where Roshana is buried.
“I’m going to drive out to an abandoned school and start poking around,” Bales said.
“Don’t go by yourself.” I shook my head in fear.
Bales shrugged me off. “I’ll be fine. Criminals don’t hang around their dumping grounds.”
“Maybe we’re not talking regular criminal, though,” Tens answered.
“Odds are there’s nothing to find. It’s a long list of buildings.”
“But—” I don’t have a good feeling.
“Meridian, this is my job. I’ll be fine.” Bales wouldn’t listen.
Tens and Bales continued to talk about what we’d seen at the track while I went back into Faye’s room. I watched as Gus tenderly moistened Faye’s lips and mouth with a sponge that looked more like a pink lollipop. He brushed her hair off her face and whispered in her ear.
The weather report on the news called for severe thunderstorms moving from the central United States, over central Indiana tomorrow. Even if the track was cleared for more qualifying, which seemed up for speculation, the weather might not cooperate. Besides, after all the accidents and injuries, I didn’t understand why the entire event wasn’t canceled. But then I knew more people might die. Maybe I’m biased.
“How are you?” I asked Nelli, who hadn’t taken her eyes off her uncle.
“It’s hard to watch him,” Nelli answered while Gus massaged lotion on Faye’s arms.
Faye’s erratic breathing hadn’t changed.
Delia came into the room. “Would you like the harpist to play now?”
“Please.” Gus nodded.
The harpist set up on the terrace. She closed her eyes as she plucked the strings. The notes were melodic and soothing. I heard the ocean, the rush of waves in the background. I closed my eyes, lost in the cocoon of sound.
She began to play the next song when both Rumi and Juliet startled me by saying in unison, “I know that song.”
The harpist paused as if interruptions happened all the time. “Shall I stop?” she asked.
“No, no, what is the name of this threnody, this song?” Rumi begged.
“The hymn ‘I’ll Fly Away.’ ”
“Please continue.” Rumi hummed along and Juliet merely paled, white and drawn. Rumi began to sing quietly under his breath.
“When the sun comes, rising in the sky,
We’ll fly away
To the next, dry your eyes and say,
Let us fly away
Open the window darlings,
Throw it wide
When I die, sing praises by my side,
For I’ll fly away
Let me go, for you will follow soon,
I’ll so be free
To the Light, unafflicted from all pain,
Let my spirit soar
Broken no more,
Thr
ough the windowpane
Without regret I am off into the Light,
For I’m moving on
I’m moving on
Yes, I am
Off into the Light,
When the time’s right, see me in its rays,
I’ll be the Light.”
Juliet lifted her head. “That’s my mother’s lullaby, but with different words.”
“I remember she sang it to you all the time.” Tony knelt, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t remember the words, though.”
Maybe I can reach Juliet through this song. “What are your mother’s words?” I asked Juliet. “Do you remember?”
Her eyes grew wide and scared. “It was about the creek.” Her voice cracked. “She was at DG.”
“Sing it for us.” Fara gripped Juliet’s hand as if imparting badly needed strength. She nodded at the harpist who waited a beat, then started at the beginning of the song again.
Juliet squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Then she sang along, her voice thin and reedy:
“When you’re sad and want to be made glad,
Follow the Wildcat home
I will wash those tears off your heart,
Give your hurts my way
Send your worries down my stream,
Let them float away
I’ll hold you close, deep against my heart.”
Abruptly, Juliet stopped and leapt to her feet. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I need air.” She ducked out of the room. Fara scrambled to follow. Why do Rumi and Roshana both have words to the same song? What is the significance?