Aware

by Andy Havens

  “Kendra honey! I didn’t think you’d be back until next week when school starts!”

  Lane White had never been much of a hugger, but Kendra ploughed into her without waiting for an invitation. After a moment’s awkwardness, Lane put her arms around the girl and gave her a firm, if gentle, hug.

  “I missed you, Mom. And the job wasn’t working out as well as I thought. So I decided to just come home early.”

  Her mom nodded as they came apart, patting her hair and saying, “You got some color, though. That’s nice. And you’ll put some of that money aside for school or next summer’s adventures, yes?”

  Just like that, Kendra remembered why she’d never really had a warm, meaningful bond with her mom. Nothing about friends or excitement or what went wrong. One comment about a bit of a tan and then straight to talk of the ledger.

  Now, though… Kendra was a Reckoner herself, and had spent time observing and moving among some of the most powerful in the world. She could see that her mom’s… shallowness… was not entirely natural.

  It’s like there’s a hole where part of her should be, she thought. Like something has pulled all the color out of her. All that’s left is the details. The silverware and candlesticks and napkins, but no food.

  “How long have you been home, hon?” her mom asked, putting her purse and laptop bag on the living room table. “Have you had anything to eat?”

  It was almost physically painful to be in the same room with her. Kendra had been around plenty of Mundanes over the past weeks and they weren’t… sad… like this. They exuded their own energies, much like the Narrow Roads. They might not be able to see all the angles and depths of the Ways, but they had their own kind of flow and pulse.

  Not so her mother. It was almost as if she were a mannequin. Entirely bereft of meaning.

  Pleasant to look at, still. An attractive woman. Smart, of course. She was a good writer and a great editor. She’d won awards. She could make a witty remark and laugh at others’ jokes. Nothing wrong on the surface.

  It’s just… all surface.

  “Mom, I… I brought a friend home with me for a few nights, if that’s OK. She’s… a new girl at the school but her folks are out of town for another week and she wanted to come back early. I hope that’s OK.”

  She could almost see her mother process the question through a series of logic gates. But it passed all the requirements for “something out-of-the-ordinary but within the realm of acceptable,” so Lane smiled and said, “Of course, hon. It’s good to see you making new friends. Is she napping?”

  “Maybe. I’ll call up.”

  Kendra stuck her head around the corner and yelled, “Hey, Vannia! Come down and meet my mom!”

  The shorter girl scampered down the stairs and Kendra saw she’d changed into an outfit that matched, stylistically, some of the clothes in her own closet. Not actually Kendra’s clothes. Just ones that could have been bought at the same Target location during the same sale. Ripped and faded jeans, sneakers, plain white t-shirt under a short-sleeved, black hoodie with a white owl logo on the back.

  Plus: long, blonde dreadlocks.

  White-girl dreads. What. The actual. Hell…

  “Hi, Mrs. Lane!” Vannia chirped, sticking out her hand. “I’m Vannia. I’m Kendra’s friend. I’m going to Kendra’s school. My parents are out of town for another week so I’d like to stay here if that’s OK.”

  Lane looked at the girl for a moment, frowning. “It’s Mrs. White, dear. You can call me ‘Lane,’ though, if you like. Some of Kendra’s friends find that appropriate.”

  Vannia looked back and forth from Kendra to Lane, smiled blankly, and said, “OK!”

  “Are you younger than Kendra, dear?” Lane asked, emptying her pockets of keys and a security badge.

  Vannia shot a look at Kendra, who nodded.

  “Yes!” Vannia answered. “I am younger than Kendra.”

  “A Freshman?”

  “No.”

  “So… A sophomore?”

  This time Lane was looking right at her and she couldn’t check with Kendra for confirmation, so Vannia just nodded. “Sure. Yes. Soft more.”

  Lane lifted one eyebrow and shook her head a bit, but was clearly filing Vannia’s odd behavior under kids these days.

  “Well if you’ve already eaten, I won’t worry about you until dinner. Maybe we can order one of those fancy, deep-dish pizzas from DeVane’s to celebrate you being home early.”

  “I’d like that Mom. Thanks.”

  Lane rubbed the back of her neck and took a deep breath. “If it’s OK with you girls, I’m going to have a nap before dinner. Going downtown always wears me out. Why don’t you call for the pizza around seven and wake me up when it gets here. OK, love?”

  Kendra nodded and kissed Lane on the cheek as she passed by. Lane turned her head slightly and made a kissing motion, not really connecting, and slowly climbed the stairs to her bedroom on the second floor.

  When she was gone, Kendra motioned for Vannia to follow her and they went through the living room and kitchen and out the back door. Kendra sat on the steps and Vannia sat facing her, cross-legged on the picnic table.

  “Nice outfit,” Kendra said. “Where’d you get it?”

  “I have no idea,” Vannia answered. “You know. Wherever things come from?”

  Kendra nodded. “Chaos shopping spree. You never know what you’ll get, but it’s priced to move.”

  “Yup.”

  They sat quietly for a minute, Vannia enjoying the breeze and the faint scent of smoke from a minor industrial fire several miles away. Kendra just thinking.

  Finally, Vannia said, “Your mom… She’s… You can feel it, right?”

  Kendra nodded. “I think I always could. Now I just know what it means. And it’s much, much more obvious.”

  “That sucks. I’m sorry. About all this. None of it’s your fault, you know.”

  “I know. It’s just… at first I was so thrilled to find out about the Ways. To learn that I wasn’t insane or deeply bad-weird. Just different. In a way that made perfect sense once I beat Monday’s test.”

  “But…”

  “But now I need to find out where I fit in. And it doesn’t seem like I do. None of the Houses seem right to me. I mean, I killed Mr. Vernon because he wanted to force me into Earth.”

  “What was up with that?”

  Kendra scowled. “I don’t know. It seemed really extreme. Both parts, I mean. The forcing me thing and the making his head explode thing. Out of proportion. I mean… I’m this kid he’s known for years, sure. But he wasn’t straight with me at all. Maybe he meant well. But then he went all psycho. Right after showing me that letter from Dad to Mom. I mean, I get that each House wants to have more Reckoners… the whole thing about not having as many children or whatever. But to kill me? Which is clearly what was going on there at the end. That’s just…”

  “B-A-N-A-N-A-S,” spelled Vannia.

  “Yes, Gwen,” agreed Kendra. “It was indeed bananas.”

  They sat quietly for a few more minutes and then, clearly bored, Vannia asked, “Can I watch TV in your room? I don’t get to watch Mundane TV a lot.”

  “Sure. We’ve got every channel available. Use the headphones, though, since Mom is resting, OK?”

  “Got it.”

  Vannia got up and cut behind Kendra to enter the kitchen. Turning back, one foot inside, she asked, “What are you going to do?”

  “I think I’ll just sit here and think.”

  In a bad, slow, southern accent, Vannia said, “I bet if you think about it real hard…”

  Kendra shook her head. “Thanks, Forest.”

  Vannia patted Kendra on the head and went inside.

  Kendra sat and felt the Narrow Roads that passed near her house and the family Blood rites pulsing from an apartment down the block. A quick flicker in the air from the house opposite their back yard let her know that someone was setting a Way of Release to keep a pet inside. All arou
nd her the Ways moved and flowed, like rivers or spiders’ webs or ripples in a pond…

  It was warm and pleasant and she felt (a little) as if she was home and so she nodded off a bit to the sound of a radio playing Billy Joel through an open window.

  Bottle of red… bottle of white… it all depends on your appetite…

  * * * * *

  Across the street a very tall, attractive and athletic woman in a tailored black business suit pulled out a smartphone and sent a text:

  Lane White is home. Her trip was without incident.

  A minute or two later, a reply:

  Understood. Stay on post. Observe and report.

  The woman, Laura Mason, put the phone in her suit pocket and looked up and down the street. She’d been Lane White’s tail for weeks now. Mostly that meant being staked-out in front of the house. Nothing new. Nothing strange. Workers beginning to come home. Families watching TV in their dens or playing in the yard. Cars, small trucks, deliveries, bikes, arguments, kisses, waving, smiling… Incredibly boring. Incredibly Mundane.

  But even her business excursions are boring, Laura thought. Trip to the store. Quick meeting downtown. If she’s had any fun at all in the last month, it’s managed to slip past me.

  She looked an her expensive watch and decided to do a quick round. Up one side of the street, always with the front door of Lane’s townhouse in view. Check around the corner. Nothing. Back down the street, this time hidden by a minor Way that would make her look slightly different to Mundanes.

  No use alerting any of the locals.

  Up the opposite block about half-way. Nothing odd there. One of the apartments kitty-corner from Lane’s block was having some renovations done. The heavy noises, at least, had stopped. Damned jackhammer was driving me crazy.

  As she turned to head back to her nest – her secure post, wrapped in a number of concealing and protective Ways – she happened to look over the fence into the common yard shared by Lane and her neighbors. It was an interesting, attractive idea, she’d thought on first casing the place. As long as you can trust your neighbors, she’d thought.

  She almost missed it. Because the girl was sitting very still in the shadow of the house itself.

  That’s her!!! Just my luck she showed up one of the few times Lane was out…

  Laura’s senses immediately went into “combat stance.” She released several Ways that kept track of all movement in her vicinity. She muttered a word that triggered the “active mode” for her nest across the street. No matter what happened now, there would be a number of recordings made and a quick response from her team members, who would already have received a ping on their shared alert system.

  Then she remembered her orders: If you see the girl, do not engage. Contact the Warden personally and immediately.

  “Right, right,” she muttered to herself. She’d never met Gareth in real life before that ops meeting. It had been exhilarating to hear directly from the head of her House. Years of work in various capacities to finally be on a team that had that kind of access.

  She remembered what he’d told them about the girl, too: “She is a wild card. She killed an experienced, martially trained greenman with almost no effort and one of the Great Masters of Earth in a duel that lasted only seconds. She may be accompanied by a Chaos assassin of the highest order and a high-ranking Librarian. Do not treat her like a standard client or target. Do not approach her. Do not contact her. Do not allow her to notice you. Simply report to me. Personally. Immediately.”

  She took out her smartphone, hand shaking a little, and found the number in her contact app. A number she’d never used before and never thought she’d use. She keyed in the message and hit “Send:”

  The girl is at her mother’s. I am eyes-on.

  She waited, almost holding her breath, trying to not move. Wondering what she’d do if Kendra raised her head and saw her there.

  Standing here looks worse than simply walking along, she thought. I should just keep walking and leave a Way to keep track of her or…

  Her phone buzzed:

  Copy. Do not engage protocols. Remain out of sight but nearby. Good work.

  For a moment she warmed with the praise. Then she realized, Damn it! I already engaged protocols! That’s right! Shit… O gods o gods o gods…

  The last part of the briefing:

  “If you actually see her, do not set any Ways into motion as she might sense them. Just alert me directly by text. I don’t want any automated messages going out over comms. My number is highly secure. You can trust that number. Not necessarily any others. Not when it comes to this girl.”

  Fear ran up the back of her spine, chilling her breath but somehow heating her face at the same time.

  He’ll be here soon. He’ll make it OK. I’m sure it’s nothing. I mean, it’s my team, right? I just did what we were trained to do. Right?

  The training had been for other targets. For this one, it was the word of the Warden of Increase she had been meant to obey.

  For just a moment, she considered running. She had many Mundane friends. I could hide, maybe. Somewhere warm. Somewhere safe.

  There was no such place. Increase was, well… everywhere.

  Her hands trembling, she keyed another text:

  Apologies, sir. Protocols already activated.

  She waited. She counted her heart beats. Sixty. Ninety. The phone buzzed:

  Understood. Appreciate candor. Remain on point. I will rendezvous there with team soonest.

  Two warring feelings again, fear and hope generated by one thought—he’s coming here himself!

  She’d assumed he would send a team. Not actually intervene personally. Her heart sped up again.

  At the same time, she sighed, nearly dizzy with relief. From everything she’d heard, the Warden was unrelenting in his demands for attention to detail; a perfectionist in every way. But she’d also heard that he respected honesty and a desire to learn.

  She remembered something her Training Officer had told her years ago: The Warden is a true leader. Not just someone with power who likes to lord it over others. He sees himself as a part of the team as much as any of us. As you. If you stay true to him, he’ll stay true to you.

  Breathing hard, moving slightly down the street to get out of direct eye-line with the girl, she hoped that was true.

  I want to serve, she thought. I want to be on The Team. I want to be better. I want to make you proud, Warden.

  She stood there, waiting, thinking those thoughts so hard that she felt, maybe, he’d hear them as he approached.

  I want to be more. I want to make you proud.

  Music drifted down to her from around the corner: Bottle of red… bottle of white…

  * * * * *

  To Wallace within his Way, it was instantly obvious that this was the same big old farm house where the battle had occurred. Though his view was from the inside, even a Mundane would have recognized it pretty quickly. Wallace instantly cataloged thirty-eight common markers from his observations during the fight in Jimson’s yard and was sure, to the point of 100% certainty, that this was the same place, but on the inside.

  It was cleaner than he’d expected.

  Jimson was lounging in a comfortable chair, as were three of the other Earth tags from the fight and two Wallace didn’t recognize. They were seated around a coffee table playing a game with dice and pads of paper.

  Something like Yahtzee, but not quite, Wallace thought as he observed the memory spooling past and around him.

  They were chatting and drinking Cokes, passing around a big bag of popcorn.

  They look like a small fraternity. Or the guys in a dorm lounge. All about the same age, all similar looking.

  [Don’t editorialize.]

  He heard/felt McKey’s voice inside his mind as the Way paused momentarily.

  Apologies, Mrs… uh… Helen.

  She’d told him that, in private, he could call her by her first names. “Helen” in the Library, “Hie
retha” when out on field trips.

  [No need to apologize. I’m teaching. You’re learning. That’s part of what this is. But the first time you review a deep Way like this, it’s best to suspend all judgment.]

  He nodded, internally, and let the Way proceed.

  He’d seen it all once before, obviously, as he’d pulled the memories out of Jimson’s dying mind. But that had been forceful and almost instant. Like flipping through a picture book very quickly. He’d recognized some images and feelings, but not enough to analyze anything. This time he and Mrs.… Helen… were going to watch closely and examine all the details.

  The tags paused in their game as a car pulled up outside the house on the dirt driveway. One of them looked at Jimson and asked, “Are we expecting anybody?”

  The leader of the house, for Jimson was clearly the one they were all looking to, shook his head.

  The one who’d asked the question shrugged, got up and went to open the door just as someone began to knock. The tag stood to one side and let two people in.

  Jimson stood up to greet them just as Wallace recognized them both.

  That’s Rain Vernon and Kendra’s psychiatrist, Dr. Lyonne.

  [Yes. I recognize them from Mr. Monday’s reading of Kendra’s day the morning before she came to the Library.]

  Of course. Yes.

  Wallace had met Rain in person, the day Kendra killed him. And he also recognized Dr. Lyonne from several personal pictures she’d had in her office, though he hadn’t ever met her in the flesh.

  The Way continued.

  “Good to see you again, Rain,” Jimson said. “Who is your friend?”

  Rain gestured at the woman beside him saying, “This is Dr. Sasha Lyonne. A colleague of mine. She’s helping me on another project and it made sense for her to come along with me today.”

  Jimson nodded. “Any friend of Rain’s…” he said.

  “Indeed,” Rain replied, looking around the room.