“Do you mean the Four Horsemen?” I said. “As in, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? The Bridge has something to do with that?”
He didn’t look over, but continued stirring the soup as he nodded. “Yes. We call them The Four, though. Our myth is not the same as the human one.” He gave me another wan smile. “The human one is based on ours.”
I snorted a low laugh, I couldn’t help it. “Of course it is.”
“It is,” he insisted, but I heard the humor in his voice, too. “The Four are more like family. The Bridge is their leader.”
Still smiling faintly, I thought about it some more. “So there are three more like me?”
He made the “more or less” gesture with a hand. “Yes. Three more.”
“And I’m the white one?”
He nodded again. “You are white.”
I remembered something about that with the human myth, too, about each horse being a different color. White, red, black. Then there was the fourth one, the one I could never remember––
“Pale,” he spoke up from the stove.
I nodded again. “Yes. Death, right?”
When he didn’t say anything, I just sat there, trying to relax as he finished warming the soup. Pouring the contents of the pot into two bowls, he pulled spoons from a drawer and walked everything over to the bar, setting one of each beside me.
“You want anything to drink, Allie?”
“No,” I said. “…Thanks. This is great.”
When he nodded, his face still, I hesitated, wanting to say more. I tried to decide if I should ask him more about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse thing, or The Four, as he called them, or if I should leave that for another day. Somehow, pushing him back into his more academic, lecturing kind of mode didn’t really appeal to me.
I picked up the bowl instead. I was a little relieved to see it was regular old crappy human soup, like I was used to. Blowing on a spoonful to cool it, he motioned towards the board, using the fingers that held his spoon.
“White moves first,” he said.
I swallowed my mouthful, nodding, then put down the bowl.
It crossed my mind that chances were good that he would kick my ass in this, too, given that there had to be a sight component to chess, just like there was with everything else. Still, a smile rose to my lips as I focused on the board, hearing the soft chink of his spoon as he ate.
When I glanced up, my eyes found one of the embroidered thankahs hanging on the wall, a golden buddha with peaceful eyes. Under it, on a small shelf stood a lit candle. Incense sticks let off tiny lines of white smoke.
It crossed my mind that he must have done that, after Mika and I left.
I’ve never been a Buddhist or anything, or even religious, but for some reason, that touched me, too.
I moved my first pawn. Watching Revik’s eyes narrow on the board, the bowl of soup balanced in his hand, I smiled again.
I didn’t let myself think too clearly about why.
18
LEAVING
HE’D BEATEN ME outside.
I stood in a doorway below the street, blinking against the tired rain of a Seattle afternoon. He threw a leg over the back of a motorcycle as I watched, and my nerves rose even more.
We were leaving.
Almost four weeks had gone by since I’d first woken up in bed with him.
I’d begun to wonder if we were ever going to leave Seattle. But in monitoring the activity of the Rooks and SCARB, Homeland Security and whoever else, a group of seers somewhere in Asia finally decided it was safe for Revik and I to push on.
The main news feeds still ran “special reports” on who I was and my possible motives. Those reports showcased images of the car chase up Highway 101, along with scuba divers and scows dredging Lake Washington for the GTX and our bodies. While authorities wouldn’t confirm or deny the rumors, some feeds still reported me as telekinetic, too. I’d seen interviews of customers from the Lucky Cat, and a few of my old co-workers.
Cass and Jon weren’t in any of the recent ones, but I saw Sasquatch the cook being interviewed. I’d also seen interviews of Angeline and Corey, and a few others from the tattoo parlors where I’d worked.
Most of my friends looked pretty shell-shocked, via their avatars.
Revik’s face didn’t appear in any of these reports.
Mine, on the other hand, was all over them.
They named me openly as a terrorist, using a non-avatar image of me from about three years ago, at one of my art openings. The only image I’d seen of Revik showed an avatar only, and called him a “potential accomplice” without using his name.
One thing in the plus column––my mother had been released from prison.
Mika assured me they had people watching her house to make sure she’d stay safe. I hadn’t heard anything directly about Jon yet, but Ullysa and Ivy told me he’d likely be released soon. Cass apparently had gone underground. They had no reports of law enforcement picking her up, so I had to assume she’d gone away on her own, or else left with Jack, her on-again, off-again boyfriend since we’d all gone to high school together.
Still, I never really relaxed.
It wasn’t all Revik, or even the never-ending physical discomfort since that morning when he and I woke up in bed together. I was an outsider here, and I knew it. Most of the time, I couldn’t forget it for more than a few seconds in a stretch.
More than that, they all seemed to take the Bridge thing a little too seriously.
As a result, even when they saw me as a fellow seer, I wasn’t really one of them. I felt it in every word they said to me, saw it every time their expressions closed when I was around. It was less obvious with Ullysa, Mika and a few of the others, but it was still there.
I wasn’t like them. I was something else.
During our frequent, if one-sided, chess matches, Revik told me as much as he knew about the mythology of the Bridge, maybe to get me more comfortable with the idea.
He also explained more about what I’d be faced with in Asia, including more about the leader of the seer government there, an old seer named Vash, who led what they all called “the Seven.” Through Revik, I found out this was short for “The Seven Tribes,” which represented the original states or clans making up their society. The Council of Seven was their official governing body, and Vash, its senior member.
Revik continued to make cracks about the Four Horsemen, too, which I think he meant mostly as a joke, although it was hard to tell with him. I sensed there was at least some seriousness to his teasing. He would drop things, here and there, that let me know he believed in the whole Bridge thing as much as the others, even if he seemed to see me differently.
Either way, I spent the vast majority of my time in Seattle in my room.
When I wasn’t alone, I was practicing with the Baby Eagle, playing chess, or learning sight tricks with Ullysa. Alone, I found myself drawing mostly, or reading texts about seers that Ullysa translated to English for me via some software program she had on her headset.
Now I stood outside, feeling even more like an outsider.
In addition to the gun and sight training, Ullysa and her seers were extremely useful in one other respect––they taught me a lot about maneuvering in the world as a renegade seer. I had new passports, visas, local ident cards. I even had a forged birth certificate. All of those documents said I was Yolanda Emily Paterson from Phoenix, Arizona, born a few months and four years before my actual birthday––which, to be fair, was probably made-up anyway.
I wore prosthetics on my nose, cheeks and forehead, and contacts that turned my eyes brown––all of which was uncomfortable. I also wore sunglasses. My hair had been cut to jaw length and dyed burgundy, thanks to Ivy and the African-looking seer, whose name turned out to be Yarli. Both of them quizzed me about Phoenix the whole time they did my hair and make-up, until they felt I knew enough to be able to get past border control.
They asked me what languages I
spoke, which was none apart from English and a smattering of Spanish and French. They asked me what countries I’d been to, which was nowhere but Mexico as a kid, a good ten years before the borders tightened.
Ivy, who was in charge of my paperwork, also asked Ullysa if we wanted to avoid “the usual places” for me, to which Ullysa said yes.
The usual places, I found out later, was a list of cities and countries in which the Rooks maintained a heavy presence. That list turned out to be intimidatingly long.
Not surprisingly, Washington D.C. was on it.
Approaching the motorcycle warily, I stared at Revik’s back.
Giving me a bare glance, he motioned with his head for me to get on behind him.
I stepped closer, then threw a leg over and eased onto the leather seat. My fingers touched his jacket for balance as he moved the bike upright. He clicked over the ignition, and I saw him wince as he stepped sharply down on the pedal.
He did it a few times before the motor caught. My first thought was that it must be an old bike. Upon closer inspection, however, it looked like it had been modified in a number of ways, so maybe it only looked old, or had been done up retro-style, with a modern engine.
“Are you okay?” I said.
I couldn’t be sure he’d even heard me over the revving engine. Picking up a dark blue helmet resting on the gas tank in front of him, he handed it to me.
“Revik,” I said, fighting exasperation a little. “Is this really the best way to do this? You were half dead a few weeks ago—”
“Put it on, Allie. Hold onto me.”
Feeling sick already, I tugged my hair out of my face before stuffing the padding over my head. Arranging my bangs so I could see, I fumbled with the straps under my chin.
I considered trying again with him, then gave up, realizing I’d have to focus at least half of my energy on not throwing up while riding with him anyway.
Finishing with the helmet, I slid my arms around him, gripping tighter as he shifted his weight back to center.
The nausea didn’t get worse. In fact, it was nowhere near as bad as I’d feared in gearing up for this. Realizing it must be something he was doing, I went into the Barrier and stretched out my light towards his. Carefully, I felt over the edges of a curved, glass-like surface around him.
He used some part of his aleimi to shove me off.
It wasn’t subtle.
I kept my light off his as best as I could after that.
I watched him slide a handgun into a holster in his boot, covering it with his pant leg.
Ullysa approached the bike, laying a hand on his arm.
“Be careful, Revi',” she said as he holstered another gun under his jacket. I knew she spoke aloud for my benefit. “My people will meet you at the airport, but you are alone until then.” She looked at me, pointed at the space between my eyes. “Do not go into the Barrier, sister. Do what Revi’ tells you. This is his job.”
I nodded, not bothering to point out the number of times I’d heard this already.
Ullysa kissed Revik’s palm in goodbye before he started putting on gloves. I focused on the line of seers standing outside in robes and shawls, a thin veil of moisture on each face.
I recognized Yarli, the African-looking woman with the kind eyes, and Mika under her hood. Then I saw Kat walking towards the bike, wearing nothing but a gold kimono and bamboo clogs. I watched her light brown eyes slide over Revik. A swell of pain hit me without warning; my fingers clenched the thick leather of his jacket.
Kat only smiled wider, walking up to him and throwing her arms around his neck.
I barely had time to back away.
I slid to the rear of the long seat, not looking at them or at the line of seers watching as he returned Kat’s kiss. I felt pain waft off him as he fell into it, saw Kat press her body into his, her hand between his legs. Once I saw that much, I turned, staring at the brick of the alley wall until they finished. It seemed to take a long time.
Finally, Kat walked away, but not before she grinned over her shoulder at me.
“See you, cub. Thanks for the loan.”
I bit my lip. I felt Revik watching me, his light cautious. When he didn’t look away, I faced him directly.
“Don’t worry, Revi’,” I said. “I’m sure they have plenty of whores in Canada, too.”
That time, there was no question as to whether he had heard. Something rose in his eyes, a kind of furious disbelief. It disappeared as soon I saw it.
By the time I thought about it enough to regret speaking, he’d already shoved a second helmet over his head and locked the strap.
Revving the motor a last time, he took his feet off the ground, forcing me to make a grab at his jacket to stay on the bike as he accelerated out of the alley.
I CLUNG TO his waist, feeling like my skull might vibrate out of my skin.
Resting my bulky head on his back, I watched the sun begin its descent into the water through a bug-speckled visor, feeling another rush of gratitude towards Ullysa for forcing the down jacket and scarf on me, in addition to the gloves.
Revik only stopped the bike once.
As angry as he might have been at me, I suspected he’d stopped for my benefit. After using the cement-block restroom and washing my face, I’d stood in the picnic area swinging my arms while he walked a wide circle on the grass, ignoring me studiously.
Normally, the ride to Vancouver took only three or so hours from Seattle. Because we took back roads for a border crossing further east, it would take us closer to seven.
I raised my head as the bike slowed.
He came to a stop, placing his feet on the ground at the end of one of several lines of vehicles. Cars, RVs, trucks, trailers and motorcycles started and stopped in irregular bursts before a widened section of road bridged with glass booths.
Seeing the Canadian flag snapping overhead, I felt a jump in my stomach. Revik lifted his feet, hitting the gas to roll us forward when our line shifted another spot.
He glanced back at me for the first time since we’d left.
“If we encounter a problem,” he said through the helmet. “It will be here.”
I adjusted my arms around him. “How likely is that?”
“They won’t be watching from the physical.” He paused, thinking. “Well. It is unlikely. Canada is too obvious.”
“And if it isn’t too obvious?”
He continued to look at me. I couldn’t see any part of him through the tinted visor. He shrugged.
“So why can’t you use the Barrier?” I said.
“Because it is easy to watch multiple places in shifts from the Barrier,” he said. “There are not enough seers to go everywhere in person. Not even for the Rooks. Also, it is wholly unnecessary. They will watch from the Barrier, circulate our pictures to humans, and wait for me to resurface. They know I cannot stay out of the Barrier forever.”
“Why not?”
“Because eventually I have to sleep,” he said.
I fell silent, watching cars inch forward. A little boy in a minivan gripped his hands into fists as he stared at me and Revik, turning them towards himself rhythmically, lips puckered as he made Vroom, Vroom noises.
“So how do you know they won’t be waiting for us here?” I said.
Revik sighed, staring up at the sky. “I don’t,” he said. “But there are advantages to Canada that made it worth the risk. Via my old employer, I am registered through their branch of Homeland Security. Theirs has few Rooks, and none at the higher levels. I should come up green in a regular scan, at least until they revoke my status. Ullysa assured me they had not.”
I frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. They know you are with me.”
Revik shrugged. “I am wearing blood patches. I won’t come up as the same person up here. I’m hoping SCARB is not aware of all of my operational aliases. Ullysa seemed to think my employer gave them the bare minimum on that front.”
Thinking about that, I frowned. “So what a
bout me? The prosthetics only deal with the facial recognition software, right? My implant—”
“Has been altered. We told you this, Allie.” Revik sighed. “We have people on the inside, too. The electronic security doesn’t worry me. It is easy to tamper with, and by the time they found us that way, it would already be too late.”
Nodding, I tried to incorporate this information into my more nameless fear. Before I could think of another question, it was our turn. Revik pulled the bike up to the booth.
A man wearing a black uniform stepped out from behind the glass.
He held out a hand.
“Passports.”
Revik reached into his inner jacket pocket, handing them over wordlessly. The guard motioned towards Revik’s face, and Revik unstrapped the helmet, tugging it off his head. I sat back, reaching up shakily to do the same. I kept my expression flat as I pulled mine off, aware at once of my sweat-damp hair as the Canadian-Washington wind blew at the back of my neck. I hoped my nerves didn’t show, but knew from my previous inability to hold any kind of poker face that they probably did.
The guard sniffled in the cold, wiping his nose with one gloved hand. He looked at me. I got a whisper of familiarity as his eyes lingered on my face. He stared at Revik, scrutinizing him more closely. He was probably checking our implants through his headset as he stared, but his expression didn’t waver.
“What is your purpose in Canada?” he said.
“Tourist.” The word was out of Revik’s mouth before I’d heard the question.
“Any food with you? Fruits or vegetables?”
“No.”
“Weapons?”
“No weapons. Only clothes.”
“Why no headsets?” He pointed at Revik’s ear. “No phones?”
Revik smiled, glancing at me. “We wanted to go without. Vacation. Is that a problem? Neither of us is registered as requiring one.”
I swallowed. I was actually required to wear one, ever since that incident in the bar with the wine bottle and my ex-boyfriend.
The guard frowned again. He stepped closer, looking at both photos, then back at mine. I felt more than saw Revik’s fingers stray to his boot. The man’s eyes were dark blue, kind, a little sad. A rush of feeling hit me. I didn’t want Revik to hurt him.
Rook (Bridge & Sword: Awakenings #1): Bridge & Sword World Page 18