by Lynn Vroman
“Don’t think so. It sounds to me like there’s a Protector with a grudge.” He poured one more whiskey, finishing it in a swallow. Casimir being the brain behind the operation created a whole new set of unwanted complications he didn’t even want to think about. “But whoever it is, they don’t want to get their hands dirty, have their energy Tainted. Persuasion won’t cause a blip during a reading.”
Wilma rubbed her temples. “Makes sense. And Casimir has no problem stirring the pot, needing a project to occupy himself in that place. If he came across some Protector energy, he’d be itching to try it out.” She sighed. “Let’s hope Cassondra can convince him to knock it off, give the energy back.”
“Guess we’ll see.” He yawned, the liquor finally doing its job, and lay on the couch. “Wake me up if she gets into trouble.”
He had to smile as his eyes drifted closed. The first time he kissed her, the real first time, she punched him in the face. At least this was an improvement.
∞ ∞ ∞
Tarek bolted up to the sound of bees. A blanket decided to wage war with his feet when he tried to get up to shut the window.
The blanket won.
He fell to the floor, cursing. The darkening room told him he’d slept the whole day away. Grunting, just because it made him feel better, he looked over at the table where Wilma still sat. Her head rested on her folded arms.
He ripped the blanket off his legs and went to shut the window. Building up the nerve to go back to Lena, see if she was still pissed, was a lot harder than traipsing through an underdeveloped dimension without his contego suit. At least she was okay–Wilma would know if she wasn’t.
After a backhand swipe at the sleep clouding his eyes, he shuffled over to the desk. On a notepad under Wilma’s arms were sketches of a symbol that covered every blank space. Trying for delicacy, his big hands tugged on the paper. Unfortunately, his fingers weren’t all that delicate.
Wilma sputtered awake, wiping a line of drool from the side of her mouth. “What time is it?”
“Close to dusk.” He held the paper up to the window, letting the fading sun highlight her doodles.
“That look familiar?”
“No. Where’d you find it?”
She stood, moving her arms in small circles. “It was drawn on the inside cover of the book, under Casimir’s name.” She gestured to the list. “She also drew it on the bottom of each page of those notes, and a big version of it in the beginning of Arcus’s evolution chapter. You sure you don’t recognize it?”
He studied it, along with the names on the notes. “No, no I don’t.”
“Well, I guess we’re no further along than before.”
Tarek set the paper back on the table and went to open the fridge. He pulled more meat off the carcass, the pungent scent letting him know there were still a few days left before it rotted.
Wilma came to stand next to him, pouring a glass of water.
He gnawed at the stringy meat over the sink while she added ice to her glass. Swallowing, he said, “Is she–”
“She’s right where she’s supposed to be.”
The knots in his shoulders relaxed. Thinking was never as good as knowing.
Chomping on ice, she added, “Ah, since you didn’t mention it, you probably don’t know yet.” She took a sip. “She has a…friend.”
He didn’t want his heart to constrict, and he definitely didn’t want to snort and cross his arms like a child. But sometimes…
“Huh, so you’ve met the boy.”
“Not exactly.”
“It’s young love, nothing to get all bent out of shape over.”
If Wilma didn’t stop smirking, he’d hit her. She’d knock him on his ass, but it’d be worth it. “Don’t want to hear it, Wilma.”
“So, that’s why you came back.” She tsked, pointing a finger at him. “You’ve got to set your feelings aside. She depends on it.”
“I get it, trust me.” He made an effort to loosen his jaw. “It’s…hard.”
The woman stayed quiet, driving him crazy.
“She kissed him, like she loved him.”
Yeah, he didn’t miss her cackling. The obnoxious noises she was making right now reminded him of just how much he didn’t miss it. “Well, I believe she thinks she does.”
They continued to stand at the sink, his mind working.
“She said she hadn’t thought about him. That doesn’t sound like she loves him to me. But the way she kissed him. It was intense.”
“Gah, you sound like a jealous child.”
“No, listen to me for a minute.” He began to pace the floor. “All the time we spent together…even right before we went to the school so she could tell him it was over, she never mentioned him.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “The only time she said anything was when I brought him up.”
“So?”
“When she saw him, she changed. She was in a trance, under a spell.”
Her eyes followed as he stalked the kitchen. “What are you getting at?”
“She’s attracted to him.”
Wilma rolled her eyes and threw her arms in the air. “Yeah?”
“No, you’re not listening.” He stopped wearing paths in the floorboards. “She’s attracted–her energy is attracted to his when he’s close to her.”
Understanding brightened her eyes. “Holy shit.”
He smiled, relief making him light enough to fly. “He’s a Guide.”
∞ ∞ ∞
Tarek had to wait until morning before taking action. Only one person could tell him if he was on to something, and Mateusz had a retreat too–with a big, unwritten NOT INVITED sign.
Guess the guy deserved it after eight cycles guarding Guides and fighting for Protector rights. Thankfully, he never failed to show up for work, an everyday gig when you’re head of the Synod’s authority.
As soon as the sun brightened the sky, he left the house. Probably should’ve thought about how people would react to him after being MIA for so many years. He only managed to think about it when he walked into the authority’s headquarters and spotted one of his oldest friends.
“Hey, brother! Been a while.” Farren stood behind the front desk, grinning.
Tarek smiled. The guy was one of the only people he knew who still managed to have a personality after living in this place for so long. “What the hell are you doing here, man?” He clapped Farren’s back, genuinely happy to see the guy.
“Thought I’d do a stint with the authority, take a break from babysitting.”
Tarek shot him a wider smile. “Know the feeling.” He scanned the lower level. “Think you can buzz me up to Mateusz?”
“Yeah, no problem. You active, then?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, when you decide, there’s room for you here. Beats the watchdog gig.”
Mateusz’s office took up the entire second floor. Fortunately, it didn’t take much to convince upper security to give him clearance, especially with Farren’s approval.
When Mateusz’s assistant spotted him, she pointed toward the large glass doors leading into the main office. As soon as they closed behind Tarek, the glass tinted to black.
His friend sat behind a plain desk with one personal adornment, a hologram of Kendal smiling, brushing hair away from her face. His woman was pretty, in an innocent way. No wonder the guy had a hard time getting over her.
Other than the picture, the office had the essentials: a computer system, a bookcase full of research books, the desk, and two chairs. Tarek sat, not bothering to hide his smile.
Mateusz smiled, too, though tension crinkled the corners of his eyes. “So you’ve seen her?”
Tarek slouched in the chair, hands folded on his chest. “Yes.” He shot a thumb toward the door. “So you managed to get Farren.”
“Hmm? Oh, yes, the big redhead. He’s quite the character.” Mateusz took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
“I’d say he’s managed to keep his humanity longer than m
ost.”
The older man laughed. “That’s another way to describe him, yes.” He slid his glasses up his nose. “What brings you here?”
Tarek leaned forward. “We found something.”
All traces of humor left Mateusz’s face. “Tell me.”
“Wilma’s been looking through Lena’s stuff and found some names.”
“You let her read Lena’s notes.” Mateusz smiled, though it looked strained. “I’ve asked to take her research dozens of times. Why the change?”
“You could have looked anytime, not take.” Tarek stood, dragging a hand through his hair. “Anyway, I think I have a lead on someone who might point us to one of those names on some lists we found.”
Mateusz steepled his fingers and looked up. “And that someone would be…”
“We think a Guide might have found Lena. An active Guide.”
“What proof is there?” A line of sweat trailed down ridged plains of the older man’s temple.
“It’s more of a hunch, really, an idea. But I need your help. If we find the Guide, we find the Protector screwing with Lena.”
“Could be the Guide is working alone. Could be the Guide is the rogue.”
“No chance. With everything that’s happened to her there’s no way a Guide could pull that off without Protector abilities. And…we’re pretty sure Casimir’s involved.”
Mateusz sat quietly for a moment, his fingers still steepled. “I wouldn’t discount the possibility that Casimir has a superior energy. And if you want my advice, I’d take out the Guide. Easy enough remedy, then Casimir could be handled.”
“Kill the–are you crazy? If I’m wrong, I’d get a Tainted. No way will I chance that without knowing for sure. And how Lena punched through the lines, there’s no doubt the energy he has is pretty weak. Probably some dumb shit new energy who got too curious and ended up dead in Arcus. No, someone else besides the Guide and Casimir are in on it.”
Why did the guy’s face get all red? If he didn’t know any better, he’d have to say Mateusz was beyond pissed right now.
Mateusz clenched and unclenched his fists. “I’d make sure you wouldn’t get a Tainted, but fine, do what you want. Why don’t I go out to your place, help Wilma read through Lena’s notes? Maybe together we could find something.”
“Not necessary, what I need from you is verification.” Tarek leaned on the desk. “I need you to find a name.”
Mateusz stared at him, his Adam’s apple bobbing a few times.
“I know what I’m asking, but…it’s important. Look–”
“What’s the name?”
“Wilma said his full name is Alexander Klein. I need the name of his Protector.”
“It’s not familiar.” Mateusz moved his gaze to the picture of Kendal, not bothering to write the name. “Give me a few days. I’ll find something.”
Lena
Staying at Jake’s house all weekend waiting for the blond giant to climb down from his stalk and stop sulking was as enjoyable as a stomach virus.
The couch had my butt planted on it most of that time, playing board games with Mom, watching reruns on television, avoiding any questions. By Sunday, I was ready to throw Monopoly out the window. When the alarm went off Monday morning, I had no problem jumping off the couch.
The bruise on my cheek looked pretty bad, but all the Arcus color faded, making it less noticeable with a little makeup magic. My side took the worst abuse, and a shirt camouflaged that, which would help me avoid the million questions from any do-gooder teachers.
When I slung my bag over the back of my homeroom seat, the day got better. Zander’s desk sat empty. One more thing I didn’t have to deal with today.
A cocoon of inane chatter surrounded me as I studied Belva like a science experiment. She dressed in jeans and a hoodie that covered her dark hair–still not wearing the usual stylish uniform, and definitely no white pants. A few people threw dumbass comments at her back, but her red face stayed focused on her phone.
A sharp pull of guilt tugged at my conscience. No doubt Wilma was the reason Belva had to hide her face every day. When the bell rang, I pulled my eyes away from her with a sigh and headed to Gym.
The first thing I did when I walked into the locker room was search for the new track team list. My happy dance kind of…happened. Odd looks and dance critiques did nothing to slow my awkward hip gyrating. Guess whose name graced the top? Seeing my name on that list for the past few years made every mile I ran in the bitter winter cold or sweltering summer heat count.
Outside, we all sat on the lower bleachers for the usual attendance routine. Stump didn’t give me crap about not being dressed for class. Guess I still looked pretty bad, and it didn’t hurt Mom wrote a note about my unfortunate bout with the flu. When everyone stumbled to the field, I reached into my bag for Othello…and noticed Belva sitting a few bleachers down.
Damn.
I hiked up my bag and moved to sit beside her.
“What do you want?” She didn’t even bother to look up from her phone, but the pounding sounds coming from her earbuds quieted.
I cleared my throat. “You okay?’
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Her flat and disinterested tone sounded all too familiar. I practically had the copyright on it.
“They’re not worth it, you know. They’re idiots.”
She pulled out her buds to scrutinize my face, her hazel eyes still as pretty as ever. “You look like shit.”
I rubbed the faded bruise on my cheek and smiled. “Thanks. You, too.”
“Guess we make quite a pair.” A shadow of a grin curved her lips as she stuffed her phone in her bag.
I looked across the field at the small groups of cliques and a few straggling loners all puttering around, doing half-ass exercises while waiting for Stump to blow the end-of-class whistle. “It’s a shame, really. Everyone taking up the same space but being so separate.” I turned to my beautiful predator, tamed by the betrayal of her pack. “Could you imagine what people could gain by saying hello to each other?”
She searched my face but no snide comment or insult came out of her mouth. Instead, she gazed across the fog-covered field, hugging herself against the cold, and nodded. “That’d be something.”
“Listen, about what happened, I–”
“No, don’t. Let’s not talk about it, okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Okay.”
She kept her eyes on the field, the hair sneaking out of her hoodie flapping with a warm gust. “So where’s your sidekick?”
A stronger gush of warm air rippled through the stadium, causing her hood to fly back. It took a minute to concentrate on what Belva said, the contrast of warm air with the frosty morning freaking me out a bit.
“Ah, hello? Lena? You still in there?”
My attention drifted back to her. “What’d you say?”
She rolled her eyes as she shifted her body toward me. “Zander. Where is he?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care, really.”
“Hmm, trouble in paradise?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Slow drops of fat, warm rain plopped down on us like water bombs. She pulled her hood up, and said, “He’s kinda weird. I mean, even weirder than you, no offense.”
The different temperatures had my danger sensors vibrating. “He’s not weird, just…intense.” Strange. I’d swear the dollops of rain were falling in perfect ten second intervals in the exact same places. I moved to the side, where the bench was still dry.
Belva didn’t seem to notice. “Nice word. But seriously, you ever notice how he doesn’t talk to anyone but you? Plenty of people have tried, but he only sees you. And…since he came here, you don’t talk to anyone else either. Not even those three…ah, girls, I guess?”
Even when she wasn’t trying, she managed to insult my friends. “Huh, weird, ‘cause the way I see it is I’ve had a target on my back since I started here. None of you exactly threw a welcoming party. Oh, except for those three
girls. And yeah, they have vaginas, Belva. Not cool.”
Her cheeks flushed as she looked at her tennis shoes. “Yeah, well…sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“There’s always time for change, right?”
I found Stump looking up and scrunching his fuzzy eyebrows. He moved to the side and shook his head as he held out a hand. The rain didn’t fall in his new spot.
“Am I boring you?”
I turned. The nervous look on her face didn’t match the sarcasm in her voice.
“No, of course not. It’s just…does the rain feel odd to you?”
She inspected her sweatshirt. One sleeve was wet, along with the pant leg on the same side, and the other completely dry. “That’s definitely different.”
As soon as the words came out of her mouth, the sky opened and the bloated drops turned into a slanted downpour. The danger sensors turned into screaming alarms. Stump blew the whistle and hollered at the class.
“We need to get inside.”
“It’s just a little rain. Don’t–holy shit. Look over there!”
I followed her finger to the patch of woods that led to the trailer park. Vibrant purple saturated a slice of the sky in a creamy line as if someone took a paint roller and swiped the foggy gray. All the rain dumping on us came from that angry patch of violet, leaping over all the trees.
I pulled Belva up by her armpit and shoved her toward the locker rooms. “Get inside. Now!”
She didn’t need any more coaxing as she gathered her stuff and scrambled after the rest of the class.
Then the squealing started.
It was distant, echoing, but that sound was something I’d never forget. I shoved Belva harder as we raced down the stairs, the rain stinging with both its intensity and the rising temperature. The squealing grew louder the closer we got to the doors.
When we finally slipped through the locker room entrance, Stump urging everyone to move faster, the rain stopped attacking the field.
“What the hell was that?” Belva, wet hair clinging to her cheeks, moved beside me as we watched the last smears of purple disappear.
What could I tell her? The truth was definitely out. I shrugged and shut the door. “Come on, we’re gonna be late for class.”