The Anathema tc-2

by Zachary Rawlins

  “Nothing bad happened,” Rebecca said, patting his arm soothingly. “She was mainly just scared. She fell down and bruised her tailbone. Must have hit something on the way down, because she bruised her arm, too. You know,” Rebecca said casually, looking away, “Changeling physiology is a fascinating thing. For example, do you know what would happen if you scared a Changeling really badly? If she thought she was in dire peril?”

  “No,” Gaul said, his mouth suddenly dry. “What?”

  “Well, it seems that the Changeling would start secreting a poison. A contact neurotoxin, rapidly fatal to humans. I don’t think it would even require prolonged contact to be lethal — grabbing an arm, for example, would probably be enough, if she were extremely agitated. The Changeling wouldn’t even be conscious of doing it. It’s an involuntary response, a biological self-defense mechanism.”

  “I see. Something to keep in mind when dealing with our own Changeling, then. Speaking of which, would you be interested in hearing a story about her from when you were indisposed?”

  Rebecca looked abashed, just for a moment, and he relished it, while she made herself busy lighting another of her infernal cigarettes. When she was finished, she perched on top of one of the old headstones, while Gaul leaned his back against the cold, pitted stone of the mausoleum behind him.

  “What did she do?” Rebecca asked, avoiding any preamble. Gaul decided to indulge her.

  “She repurposed a whole section of the Etheric Network, and used it to reactivate Mitsuru’s Black Protocol,” Gaul said dryly. “I’m not sure what she did, after that, but I have reviewed the probability mapping for the event from that point on, and I see evidence of massive probability tampering. The manipulation is very similar to a few previous incidents we’ve had.”

  Rebecca blew smoke up at the sun, one hand shielding her eyes.

  “I’m not sure how long she’s been able to do stuff like that,” Rebecca said reluctantly. “But there were some oddities last summer, when Eerie worked at Processing. She made some unauthorized changes to the network. They weren’t mad, because most of them seemed to make the damn thing work better; they just couldn’t understand what she had done or how she had done it. Because the Etheric Network wasn’t supposed to be capable of the kind of stuff she was doing with it. I’ve suspected her, since then.”

  That wasn’t all of it, Gaul could tell. However, he was too tired, and neither of them was in the mood for an argument, so he tabled it for later discussion.

  “And the other personality?” Gaul asked, genuinely curious. “I thought I knew her pretty well, after all this time, but…”

  Rebecca laughed unhappily.

  “You saw that, huh? That’s unusual. She hides herself pretty well. I think she’s always been there, but I’m not entirely sure how aware of her Eerie actually is. I’ve never been able to get Eerie to answer direct questions about her, and the secondary personality itself is… evasive. Difficult to talk to directly, when she chooses to reveal herself,” Rebecca said thoughtfully.

  “I notice you call it ‘she’,” Gaul pointed out. “As opposed to ‘it’.”

  “Well, she’s got tits,” Rebecca said, shrugging.

  “Right,” Gaul said crisply. “Do you think we should try and lock her out of the network?”

  “Do you think that we could?” Rebecca said, studying the filter on her cigarette. “She seems to know it better than you do, and you’re attached to the damn thing.”

  Gaul pushed his glasses back up, thinking about it.

  “You are probably right,” Gaul said, nodding wearily. “What about our other problem child? Alexander Warner?”

  “Alex is pretty dense,” Rebecca said, grinning. “But I think it’s safe to say that he’s starting to get an idea of how powerful his protocol really is, and how to use it. Once he gets the hang of micro-scale operation, he’s going to be exactly as deadly as you hoped. Katya is a good teacher.”

  “What about his stability?” Gaul asked, his brow furrowed with concern. “The events with Emily Muir must have been… difficult for him. And he and Eerie seem somewhat, well, at odds at the moment. And I know that you were worried that hiding your Auditor status would damage your relationship with him.”

  “It did,” Rebecca acknowledged sadly. “That will take some mending, but he’s basically a big softie, so I wouldn’t worry too much about me and him. He will get over Emily. Honestly, I think he was in the process of getting over her before any of this happened. As for Eerie and him… well, don’t get to worked up about it. She may be mad at him right now, but I don’t think it will last. I think she’ll make him apologize a few more times, but that girl fixates, so I doubt she’s lost interest in him already. They’ll be fine. Who knows? Maybe they could even learn to take care of each other.”

  Gaul shook his head.

  “I don’t understand at all…”

  Rebecca pitched her cigarette butt, and grabbed a hold of his arm again, steering him back toward the Academy, back where he needed to be, the way she always had.

  “Yeah,” she said warmly, patting him on the arm. “You never did.”

  30

  Anastasia had just sat down to a steaming cup of white tea and a daunting stack of paperwork when there was a soft knock, followed by the heavy wooden door to her office opening slowly. That was odd, because Renton had been stationed in the anteroom, with instructions to send away all comers, and not to enter the room himself. Anastasia watched the door open and got ready to scold Renton.

  “Oh my,” Anastasia said in an amused voice, “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” Eerie observed timidly, peering around the door. “Um. We need to talk. Please.”

  “Very well,” Anastasia said generously, gesturing to indicate one of the ornately carved and completely uncomfortable chairs that fronted her massive desk. She’d had the legs sawn off the desk to shorten it, though that had been desecrating a family heirloom, and she was sitting in an elevated chair, so that her toes just reached the ground, but she didn’t think anyone had noticed. “You know, in all the time we’ve been neighbors, I don’t think you’ve ever come over to my house, Eerie.”

  “That’s because you are scary,” Eerie said frankly, and without inflection.

  “You think so?” Anastasia asked cheerfully, leaning forward, over her desk. “Is it the way I dress?”

  “No, it’s because you kill people,” Eerie said flatly, clutching the handle of the knitting basket in her lap. The sweater that she wore hung off her shoulders, and black tights peaked out underneath a long woolen skirt. Her clothes were wrinkled, as if she had slept in them, and her hair was in disarray.

  “The Academy is full of people whose duties can include killing,” Anastasia protested.

  “The Academy is full of scary people,” Eerie agreed. “Some people think that you’re the scariest of all.”

  “Do they really?” Anastasia asked, pretending to be scandalized.

  “Yes. But you know,” Eerie said, hushing her voice and leaning forward, as if she was confiding something important, “if they knew what I knew about you, they wouldn’t feel that way. Because you have an important secret.”

  “Heavens!” Anastasia gasped, holding a hand to her mouth. “And what is it that you know, exactly?”

  “I wasn’t sure, the first time, because I was… busy,” Eerie said hesitantly, blushing. “But I thought so. I have been watching you since then. I saw it, on the island. What you did to Therese.”

  Anastasia shook her head and smiled.

  “Is this the same conversation we were just having? What is it that you think you saw?”

  “Don’t play around,” Eerie said resentfully, rubbing her arm nervously. “I’m not stupid. I saw it. Your protocol, Anastasia. Your secret.”

  “Oh my, how could that be?” Anastasia said, wide-eyed. “How could you have seen such a thing?”

  “The Etheric Network,” Eerie said offhandedly. �
��All Operators are connected to it, like it or not. That’s just, you know, the way it is.”

  “I see,” Anastasia said, folding up her shocked act and putting it away, for the moment. “I wasn’t aware that it could be used that way, as a monitoring device.”

  “It can’t.” Eerie cocked her head to the side, considering. She must have dyed her hair recently, Anastasia thought, because her hair was different shades of blue in streaks, probably the spots that had been bleached previously. “Not by anyone else.”

  “Well, putting aside what you saw or didn’t see, what exactly do you plan on doing about it?”

  “Wait. Did I not explain it right? I know your secret,” Eerie said slowly, obviously confused. “You have to stop.”

  “I have to stop…” Anastasia encouraged.

  “Yes,” Eerie said, nodding.

  “I have to stop what?” Anastasia asked as patiently as possible.

  “Messing with Alex. And me. You know,” Eerie said, her hands twisting around the handle of her knitting basket. “You know what you are doing.”

  “I suppose I do. And assuming I don’t, then you will what?”

  “I will tell everyone,” Eerie said quietly, obviously dreading the thought of talking to ‘everyone’. “Isn’t that enough? I only want you to leave us alone.”

  “I wasn’t aware there was an ‘us’ for me to leave alone,” Anastasia said dryly. “Let me recast the situation for you for a moment, Eerie. As you pointed out earlier, my position sometimes requires me to take violent action to protect the Black Sun’s interests. Why is it then, I wonder, you assume that I would acquiesce to your demands, when it is so much simpler to deal with blackmail by removing the blackmailer?”

  “Because you can’t,” Eerie said, utterly without bravado. She seemed confused, as if Anastasia had said something very foolish indeed.

  “Aha!” Anastasia cried, delighted. “Is this where the kid gloves come off and the threats start? How, I wonder, would you stop me?”

  “I wouldn’t,” Eerie said softly, her irises briefly turning the color of a golden oil slick, a metallic rainbow. “But she would.”

  “Who is that?”

  Eerie shook her head.

  “You know who. You already know each other,” Eerie said, standing up. “I don’t want to take anything from you. I don’t want you to do anything except leave us alone.”

  “Maybe,” Anastasia offered, leaning back in her elevated chair, “instead of things getting ugly between us, we could talk about something you could do for me. A favor for a favor, Eriu?”

  There was brief pulse of light in a brilliant range of colors surrounding Eerie’s head, and then it was gone. However, Anastasia could still smell a faint trace of sandalwood in the air.

  “I don’t know who that is,” Eerie warned. “My name is Eerie. And I’m not doing you any favors, because I’m not asking for anything. Leave me alone. Leave us alone.”

  Eerie nodded at the end of her speech, as if she was satisfied with her performance, and then stood up and headed for the door.

  “Eerie, that is no way to make friends…” Anastasia offered, as the Changeling slipped out the door.

  After she left, Anastasia shook her head, as if to clear it, and then laughed once, cold and contemptuous.

  “As if I would,” she said, grinning at the chair the girl had vacated.

  Then she composed herself, sighed, and went to go see if Eerie had killed Renton.

  “I’m not sure where to start.”

  “Why don’t you start by telling me how you feel?”

  “About what? You? Me? What happened? What?”

  Rebecca shrugged and tapped ash from her cigarette into the stained ceramic ashtray.

  “Whatever you want. Just start with what’s bothering you the most.”

  That prompted another silence, as the boy sat on her leather couch with his forehead as creased as the cushions he sat on. The t-shirt and jeans he was wearing were getting tattered and ratty, Rebecca observed critically, and made a mental note to take him shopping soon, if she couldn’t wrangle one of the girls into doing it.

  “Okay,” he said finally, folding his hands as if he planned on praying. “Why didn’t you tell me you were an Auditor?”

  “Didn’t want you to know,” Rebecca said, anticipating his complaints and forcing her recalcitrant window open to let out the smoke. “Didn’t figure that you would talk to me if you knew.”

  “Oh. Okay. Um. I don’t feel good about that.”

  “Why is that, Alex?”

  “It feels… dishonest, somehow. I mean, I know you didn’t lie to me or anything, but…”

  He trailed off, staring down at his sneakers, which, she noted, were in even more dire shape than his clothes.

  “I wasn’t honest with you,” Rebecca admitted. “I should have told you right away. But I thought knowing that would frighten and alienate you even more than you already were. The Academy has been a challenging experience for you, Alex. I wanted to be someone who you felt comfortable leaning on. Someone you could trust.”

  “And that’s the other thing,” Alex said, more forcefully, clearly getting to the heart of the issue. “Once you… well, once you got hurt, everyone went crazy, Rebecca. Everybody. Even Anastasia. Now, well, now I’m not so sure that you aren’t manipulating me, my emotions — hell, everybody’s emotions. It’s not just that I am having trouble trusting you. Now, I’m not even sure I can trust the way I feel.”

  “Alex, if I was manipulating your emotions all the time, would you be so worried about it?”

  She gave that time to sink in.

  “Hmm.”

  “Exactly. It doesn’t work that way,” Rebecca said thoughtfully. “Do you mind if I give you an example from your life?”

  Alex nodded slowly, brushing aside the hair that stubbornly insisted on falling in his eyes. Rebecca added a haircut to the mental list she was compiling.

  “When Emily was manipulating you, do you remember how hard she he had to work? How close she had to stay to you, and how much she followed you around? Do you remember how much… contact she had to make with you?”

  Alex nodded again. She decided not to notice the blush openly, but in a way, she was a little bit glad for Alex, that he had done something worth blushing about. It was another connection in the web of connections she was building around the boy, tying him to the people around him and the place he was in.

  “Well, if I wanted to control your feelings to any great degree, all the time, then I would pretty much have to do the same thing. So you see why that’s impossible, right? I see ninety students in a slow month, Alex. No empath is that powerful.”

  “But, then, why did it get so weird? When you were…”

  She didn’t make him finish the sentence, but she was touched by the genuineness of the pain she felt radiating from him. Even if Alex had mixed feelings about trusting her, he obviously still wanted to. So all it would take was a little nudge…

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t doing anything at all, either,” Rebecca said, grinding out her cigarette. “I do smooth out the occasional wrinkle, and I do my best to improve my student’s general mood and outlook. And yes, for some of our problem students, I do tend to try to limit their own destructive tendencies. However, before you ask — no, you aren’t one of those kids. When I have used empathy with you, Alex, it has always been to help — to limit your suffering, to ease your shyness, to help facilitate your transition to the Academy. I never once tried to make you do anything, or feel anything that you already didn’t. I’ve tried to make things easier for you. Moreover, if you want, I won’t even do that anymore. We can just talk and pretend we are still normal people, Alex, if that’s what you want to do. We can pretend that the rules they made up apply in the circumstances we find ourselves in. On the other hand, you can accept that we are both very different from what we used to be, and in a different world than the one we used to live in — and you could try giving me credit for
having good intentions. Up to you.”

  Alex considered it.

  “They made me see a bunch of different shrinks, psychologists and psychiatrists, I never could figure out the difference. You know that?”

  “Nope,” Rebecca said, getting up to pace the room restlessly. “I don’t know anything about you, other than what you’ve told me and what I’ve seen since you arrived.”

  Alex didn’t look skeptical. He looked like someone was trying to play a bad joke on him.

  “How is that possible? You must have access to that sort of thing. There must be records…”

  “Sure, but that shit doesn’t mean anything to me,” Rebecca said, leaning against the corner of her desk. “It wouldn’t be relevant to my job, anyway. Those shrinks — whoever they were, whatever the reasons you had to see them, they had a different job than mine. They were trying to make you better, make you healthier, a better person, a better citizen, right? Well, that’s not me. I’m not out to confront your innermost demons, Alex, not unless you want to. I’m just here to try to be a friend to you during a very difficult experience. Because the Program is a traumatic experience, a deliberately designed one, and we have studied it thoroughly. Candidates who have someone to turn to, someone to trust and someone to care for them — well, they tend to make it through more often. And I want to be that person for you, Alex, for a whole host of reasons, some professional, and some personal.”

  “Ah… that. Um, I just… well, thanks for that,” Alex said, rubbing his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in a long time, as absurd as that was. “Thanks for being honest with me.”

  “And I am fond of you, smartass. Don’t get me wrong. I really am pulling for you. I think it’s important that you know this: you aren’t there yet, but there will be some critical work very soon, and there won’t be many people who will be able to do it. It will need to be done, Alex. The kind of work that I used to do,” Rebecca said, trying out the past tense and not very sure how she felt it about it. “It isn’t healthy, or nice, or even right, Alex. But it is necessary. And I need you to know that I believe in you, and your ability to do this work, better than anyone else at the Academy.”