by Jon Chaisson
That is all for me to say, Sheila Kennedy. The rest is up to you...
A long, slow breath. He reached out and touched the tops of her hands.
The moment she started pulling away, she felt a sharp jab in the back of her neck. She winced and let out a small cry, trying to form Matthew's name. She got as far as the first letter when the world dimmed and she fell away into darkness, whimpering.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Connection
Christine stubbed out the remainder of her cigarette in the ashtray and looked out over the quiet neighborhood. “You don’t mind if we wait for Sheila, do you?” she asked, a slight nervous hitch to her voice. “I'm sure she wants to hear the rest of our conversation.”
“Not at all. Stay as long as you like,” he said, taking a last drag before putting out his own. “As a matter of fact, there are a few more things I want to talk to you about. We can talk up here, or in the office, whichever you find more comfortable. I know this building isn't your favorite place to be. I just figure that staying out here, looking over all of humanity, keeps a sense of realism for the absurd conversations we're having.”
“Whatever you say, Nick,” she said, laughing at him. “I'm not due back to my apartment until early this evening anyway.”
Relieved, he rearranged the chairs near the railing with the ashcan in between them.
Christine sat down in the one facing away from the afternoon sun. “So,” she said, crossing her legs and resting her clasped hands over her knee. “We've already discussed the kiralla, and we know about Saisshalé. What more could we possibly need to talk about? You have another angle you haven’t brought up yet?”
Nick chuckled as he lit up another cigarette, his hands trembling slightly. It took him a couple tries to light it properly. “No, not yet anyway. Actually I was thinking of something more along the lines of...well...” He exhaled slowly, looking away. “This is more on a personal level.” Another pause. “I was wondering if you perform any other rituals besides soulhealing. You know. For your freelance work.”
The question and the lack of confidence in its execution surprised her. She slowly eased back into the chair, crossed her arms and tapped her lips with her thumb for a few moments, studying him as she thought of how to answer. “I do,” she said eventually. “Are you asking about something in particular?”
“Past life regression,” he said. Then, taking another drag, began to explain. “I mean serious delving into past personal, spiritual histories, using the sehna lumia and whatever else is handy. Nothing intensive, just being able to switch to a spirit mind — no, that didn't sound right — to be able to link with my soul and find where it's been over the last, say, hundred years or so. I'm just wondering if I could access that. With your help.”
Christine’s expression softened. “Okay, I get what you mean now. I do have a little bit of experience, as it was a prerequisite when I got my healer’s license. I can do a low-grade version of meditative hypnotism. I don’t use suggestive prompts, the kind psychologists use to make patients stop a bad habit or what have you. I basically just serve as an anchor as they do their own search. Not too many people ask about it, really. They’d rather go to a sehndayen-ne instead.”
“Exactly what I'm talking about,” he said soberly. “I need you to do that for me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re serious about that?”
“Dead serious,” he said. “Everyone around me has been affected by the Awakening ritual…everyone except me. At first I thought it was just a freak of nature, you know, mutant genes that pass a generation. It just feels as though...”
“You think you're a sleeper,” she said.
“It sounds stupid,” he blushed. “But I can't help but thinking that there's something about me, my True Self, whatever it is, that I need to know. I can't help feeling that there's something inside that I can't unlock until I know all the details. Does any of this make sense?”
Slowly she nodded, and reached for her own cigarette. Lighting it up, she sighed heavily, looking over his right shoulder at the rising slopes of Branden Hill Sector behind him. “It makes perfect sense,” she said. “I can certainly try to put you under for a brief time. I can't promise you'll find what you're looking for, though. No one can make that promise. In fact, I can almost guarantee that you'll find at least one thing that'll throw you for a loop, something that could easily screw with your head for a very long time.”
“No promises,” he said. “I just want to do it.”
“You never say anything about it,” she said. “At least you never did, back when I was here. You're always the levelheaded member of the team. You always look as though nothing bothers you. And if it does, you take the courtesy not to share it with everyone else.”
“I wouldn't call it courtesy,” he said. “I call it precaution. Believe me, when something does get under my skin, you all know it. But this...this is something I need to tap into. I'm an unawakened investigator for the ARU, and I do the best damn job that I can, but it's hard when I start doubting myself. It’s too dangerous.”
“Yes, it is,” she said soberly. “But couldn't it also be a psychological thing? Maybe you're feeling left out? I don't mean to make it sound like pity, or —”
“Oh, no, not at all,” he said. “And I appreciate that you understand. Thing is, if we do this, we should do it soon. I know, what if it goes wrong and I'm laid up when I’m needed the most? What if my mind becomes unbalanced? Believe me, I've covered all the roads. I don’t want an easy-in here, Chris. I just want clarity.”
Christine exhaled slowly. She looked out over the railing, cigarette close to her lips. She took a few drags in silence as she tried to come to a decision. Nick knew he was asking a lot from her, and this was not something she was about to take lightly. He understood her hesitation, and would understand if she declined. He could find someone else if need be.
Finally, she took a last drag, pushed herself up and perched herself on the edge of her chair. “You have to know that this is not something I normally do, Nick,” she said. “And this may be something I won't do again. I've had far too many variables in my life explode in my face, work and otherwise. I just don't want to do something that could possibly scar either one of us for life. I couldn't handle that.”
“I won't —”
“Don't make any promises, Nick. Anything could happen.”
“I'll do my best, then,” he offered. “I'll take full responsibility. Honestly, Christine. Dehndarra dayen lumia. I know what I'm doing.”
“Okay,” she said, relenting. “Tell you what — I'll call you tomorrow and we can set up a time, all right?”
Christine could sense his joy without even trying, but he hid it anyway, out of courtesy. “Thanks, Chris. Really, it means a lot.”
Sheila had not returned to the smoker’s deck for a good twenty minutes, and Nick was growing concerned. He hadn’t had the opportunity to talk with Matthew one on one himself, but he’d heard enough stories about him. The rest of the team trusted him, but the former policeman in him didn’t trust him at all. After another five-minute wait, he’d made up his mind and headed down, Christine close behind. They stopped at Poe and Caren’s office first to check in. He found Poe alone at his desk, completely lost in the report on his hardback vidmat. He absently tapped out a rhythm with its stylus, the tak tak tak echoing through the office.
Nick rapped on the open door. “Hey, Poe. Have you seen Sheila around?”
He looked up at him with a frown. “Haven't seen her lately. Let me do a roster check.” He swiped at the vidmat and pulled up the roll. “Says she's still in house. Checked into a Questioning room about fifteen minutes ago, that must be with Matthew. They should still be in there.”
He paused, frowning at the screen. Then he quickly stood up and joined them at the door.
“You think Matthew's going to try something?” Nick asked.
“He'll try anything once,” he grumbled and hurried past the
m. “Let's go.”
“Wait a minute,” he called out, jogging to catch up. “You think he's done something to Sheila?”
Poe glanced over his shoulder as he stormed down the hall. “If anything, he's helped her with her recent anger flashes. I've never known him to do something malevolent without good reason. But that doesn't mean he might not do something without her permission.”
“You really think he'd pull something like that?” Christine asked.
“Yes, I would,” he said coldly. “Those psychic trespass charges on him aren't exactly stretching the truth, you know.”
Minutes later they reached the third floor interrogation wing. Sheila had signed into room 350 — the third Questioning room on the left, just one door down from the room in which she’d been questioned after the hrrah-sehdhyn attacks. The door was closed but not locked, its status read as occupied. Poe was the first to the door. He stopped in front of it, took a deep, patient breath, and knocked.
The intercom crackled to life. “Come on in, Poe,” he heard. It was Matthew's voice, and it was calm.
Poe frowned deeply and placed a single hand on the door. Slowly he pushed the door open, a wave of warm air spilling out. He walked all the way to the far corner, Nick following close behind and Christine taking up the rear. Poe's eyes were on Matthew, but Nick was watching Sheila. And Sheila was watching him with a wide grin on her face and, if he wasn't mistaken, excitement burned in her eyes.
“Hey partner,” she sang. “Just like anger management class in here, eh?”
“Yeah,” he said warily. “You okay?”
“Fine, never better.”
Poe stepped forward and leaned up against the table, his eyes darting between the two. “All right, Matthew. Did you plan on letting the rest of us in on any of this little conversation?”
He cocked an eyebrow at him and clasped his hands together. “Nothing you don't already know,” he said lightly. “This was for Sheila, and Sheila only.”
“It's fine,” Sheila said quickly, forcing a smile. “I'm fine. Nothing happened.”
But something had indeed happened. She'd always had some sarcastic, wiseass remark to share, regardless of mood. Right now she was uncharacteristically jovial.
“Might I remind you that you're here thanks to Farraway and the Governor?” Poe growled. “They can just as easily throw you back to the dogs, you know.”
“No, they wouldn't, and neither would you,” he retorted, a devilish glint in his eye. “And you know that. And if you even try to screw this up otherwise, the consequences won't be pretty. I have connections you wouldn't appreciate.”
“I wouldn’t doubt that,” Christine said. “Perhaps you can tell us more.”
“Afraid not,” he shrugged. “If I could, I'd soon be dead. Besides, there are more important things for me to do.”
Nick felt a sudden change in the air, sending shivers down his back. The room temperature had dropped a few degrees much too quickly, the air grown too electric. Someone was starting to store up energy —
He yelped and lunged forward, throwing himself across Matthew's chest and holding on tight. “Damn it, he's going to run!” He felt the tingling sensation of building energy, passing between himself and Matthew. He began to feel it draining from his own body, little by little. It was the weirdest thing he'd ever felt in his life. Matthew had not meant to pull at his spirit like that, and the process had shocked and frightened both of them. Nick resisted the urge to push away, making sure that he remained in contact. If Matthew displaced himself somewhere, Nick would go too. “Quick!” he cried. “Someone stop him!”
“Get the hell off me!” Matthew growled, gingerly putting his hands on Nick's shoulders to push him away. If Matthew tried shaking him off with all this pent-up energy stored within, Nick would end up across the room, embedded in the far wall. Nick threw a free arm around the kid's shoulder in a bear hug and didn't let go.
“Off!” Poe yelled. “Now! I got him!”
Nick looked over his shoulder and paled. He was looking at Poe's palms. They were facing outwards and tucked into his chest, ready to push out at any moment. “Shit!” he yelped and dove out of the way. “Damn, Poe! No need to kill the guy!”
“I'm not going to kill him,” he said, his voice low and full of anger. “Just making sure he doesn't go anywhere we don't want him to. Let it go, Matthew, or so help me, you'll be one less contact person in my life. Let it go. Now.”
Matthew’s eyes were wide with fear. Slowly he lifted his hands, palms open, and exhaled. Nick felt the energy draining back out of him and back into the room as ambient tension, but there remained a small wave, a tightly contained shield of protection around his body. Clearly he had never been threatened by Alec Poe before.
But Poe kept his stance and the energy stored within him. “You're staying here for a little while longer,” he said.
“Goddess, Alec!” Christine said. “Drop it already!”
“Not until he gives me an explanation.”
“Pashyo, will you let it go?” Sheila snarled at him. “He was going to run because he's scared, damn it!”
Poe cocked an eyebrow at the kid. “Scared? You?”
Matthew scowled and cowered away from him. “Yes, Alec! I admit I am terrified! I am a mortal Mendaihu Gharra, just like you! I'm also a potential target for Saisshalé, just like everyone else. I'm doing my part to keep everyone occupied so we can defeat him. Right now, I'm a threat to everyone, including you. Saisshalé knows where I am, the government knows who I am, which means anything I do can put me away. Or even kill me. Do you understand that?”
The tension in the room finally subsided and Poe dropped his hands, the excess energy dropping and dissipating. He exhaled deeply and turned away, rubbing at his temples. “I do,” he answered. “I'm reminded every damn day that someone could easily abduct or even kill Denni.”
Nick relaxed his shoulders and straightened his uniform, watching Poe struggle to calm himself down. He then glanced over at Sheila, who mirrored his look of concern. She was fine, but she had just witnessed actions that he never would have taken in any normal situation. It took him a moment to realize just what those actions had been.
“Energy sensing,” he said, a shiver running down his spine.
It made absolutely no sense, and yet, it had happened. During the Awakening ritual and Denni's cleansing and ascension rituals, he certainly would have felt something, however minute. He'd walked through the street fair at the Warehouse and through the building numerous times after the failed Ascension, but he hadn't sensed a thing. Up until then, he could only read the emotional and physical reactions of the people he observed, something any trained ARU Agent or BMPD officer could have done. Yet in this confined space, had he sensed the rise in energy, first from Matthew as he prepared to Lightwalk, then Poe's threatening stance. And afterwards, as it all receded.
Even now, he could barely sense anything…but something was there. Something that hadn’t been there before. He sensed Christine standing very close to him, just out of his range of sight. Somehow he felt her there, and he could just about feel her sensing him, quiet but concerned. Goddess, this was how it felt to everyone else? Why now, and not before? He winced and twitched as a wave of claustrophobia washed over him. He needed to get out of there. He quietly excused himself and stepped out into the hallway, getting a good distance until he could not sense anything anymore. He stopped at one of the open windows across the way and leaned against the sill, breathing in the fresh air. His head would not stop spinning.
He heard footsteps behind him. Sensed a strong, protective presence approaching.
“Hey,” Sheila said quietly.
“Hey yourself.”
“You okay?” Felt her hand touching his arm, rubbing upwards to his shoulder. Calming him.
“I'm good,” he said. “I just…” He stopped again. What could he possibly say? That he was about to pass out?
He felt Sheila moving closer, arm now restin
g on his. “Come on. Maybe you should sit down for this,” she said.
He finally turned and faced her. “On the floor?”
She frowned deeply at him and gently pushed him down. “If it gets you to talk,” she said. “That wasn't you, keeping Matt from flying off, was it? Well, it was you, but a part that I've never seen before. Want to tell me what happened?”
“I…” He stopped. A wave of nausea hit him and he dropped on his own to the floor, pulling his legs up close. He closed his eyes again and leaned up against the wall. He dropped both hands against the floor, palms flat against the tiles. He was ready to pass out, yet something was keeping him from doing so.
“Goddess...” he croaked. “Get...get a nurse in here, Sheila. I think I might...”
“On it,” she said and tapped the emergency code onto her epaulet comm. Her other hand still gripped at his shoulder, twitching in its grasp. Something about this feeling…
It felt all too familiar.
He cracked a tired smile. “Heh...like fate,” he said.
The wave of nausea peaked, surged, and fell just as fast as it had arrived. Something spiritual inside him had stabilized. Or his physical body had adjusted to its new sensations? Or maybe Sheila had simply soulhealed him? He didn't feel like himself anymore...he felt like he'd been reborn. Awakened. He felt some new sensing he hadn't felt before, and it was intoxicating and frightening at the same time.
“Like fate,” he said again, this time a little louder. He chuckled and leaned back to the wall again and took in a deep breath. “I believe I feel a little better now. I could still use the nurse, though. Just to make sure I’m okay. Could you, umm…could you tell Christine I want to speak with her?”
Sheila nodded slowly, finally letting go of his arm. “Of course. Are you sure you're okay?”