It took seeing my sister almost fall to her death to make me a believer in my abilities. We were in one of the old music stores where downtown used to be on one of our many adventures outside the walls of the city. We used to sneak out together whenever we had the chance and go exploring the old businesses that peppered the city in its heyday. We were looking through the vinyl collection in the store and Fi saw Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me by The Cure up high on a dusty shelf. I wasn’t nearly as tall as I am now and couldn’t help, though in my defense I did offer her a boost. She scoffed though, and because she’s Fi, she decided to climb up and get it herself. As soon as the words left her lips I knew it was a bad idea, and that little voice in my head chimed in and told me to stop the insanity. But I was twelve and didn’t want Fi to think I was a baby she’d have to leave behind on her next trip, and I knew my sister well enough to know that she wanted that album and was going to get it, no matter the danger.
She was okay at first, and I told myself things would be fine. I mean, she weighs about one hundred pounds soaking wet — how much damage could she do? Just as she grazed the corner of the album with her fingertips I heard the shelf she was bracing her left foot on crack, and when she tried to compensate with her hands, that shelf broke too. It was sheer dumb luck that I managed to catch her before she hit the concrete floor and cracked her skull open. It goes without saying that she had the damn album clutched in her hand when she fell, and now has it stashed with the rest of her collection in her closet. She downplayed the incident of course, because she’s Fi and that’s her way. If it had been me who had fallen, she would have put me in a bubble and locked me up just to be safe. I really wish she would take as much care with her own well-being as she does with mine. I don’t think she realizes how important she is to those of us who know and love her. I do my best to make her see, but I don’t know how successful I am.
I make my way through the house in the dark easily. I do a lot of late night skulking, so my night vision is excellent. I close my bedroom door behind me right as I hear people approaching the house outside. I kick my shoes off quickly and fling myself forward into my bed, almost tripping over a pile of books and clothes I’ve been meaning to pick up for a week or so. I hear the back door open and my sister calling my name, and I grab my comforter and drag it over my body. I wouldn’t be surprised if she poked her head in to see if I am really asleep, so it’s definitely a good idea to be thorough in my deception.
I listen intently as she kicks her shoes off in the kitchen and asks someone if they want coffee. I hear a male voice with an excessively teasing tone and a Scottish accent accept her offer, and then her soft footfalls coming down the hallway towards my room. I focus on making my breathing deep and even, close my eyes and stay as still as possible. There is a quiet knock, then I hear the door squeak open and Fi says softly, “Eir, are you awake?”
Part of me would like very much to roll over and tell her to come in and talk to me. Especially when her emotions hit me; all her fear and sadness, the frustration and uncertainty that she carries around with her. But that loud, angry part of me won’t give in. So I stay still and hear her sigh sadly and back out of my room, closing the door softly behind her. I feel like scum, but I lay here and tell myself that it’s better this way for now. There is too much going on in my head that I know I can’t explain to her satisfaction. And while I realize it’s extremely childish of me to hold it against her, I’m stung that she doesn’t believe me like she used to. So I embrace the cliché and act like a ten year old instead. I listen as Fi’s footsteps retreat back down the hallway to the kitchen so she can deal with the next headache waiting for her attention, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so small before.
Chapter 7—Flint
April 2102
Between the irritating ticking sound of the clock on the wall and the mass amounts of iron in the Dolan’s building, my head is throbbing from a migraine within an hour of being here. I push myself off the bed quietly and stretch my arms over my head. The worn springs whine as I stand and I hesitate a moment, expecting Fianna to jump out and demand I go back to my assigned position, but the house remains quiet. Knowing I could very well have a half-awake guard outside my door with some sort of iron piece, I pad over to the window and slip out of the house; desperately in need of fresh air. Even the slight chill of spring is a comfort after breathing in iron and salt for several hours.
I don’t go far, only a couple of feet into the trees, and lie down in the grass. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d stay out here stargazing rather than inhaling poisonous fumes of iron. I can almost feel my life expectancy shortening when I’m in there, though I’m sure I won’t have much of a life expectancy at all if Fianna finds me outside.
No sooner do I get comfortable than I hear the front door creak open and watch it shed light a few yards into the street in front of the house. I huff, expecting her royal highness to come stomping around the corner shouting at me, but she doesn’t come. Maybe she’s got another one of her highly illegal weapons pointed at me?
After a moment of silence I shift, glance up and see her brother, the boy who stormed out of the meeting, pulling the door closed in near silence. The guards are stationed out back, pacing around aimlessly, oblivious to the kid sneaking out the front. Why I’m surprised…I really don’t know. Time has already told me that the henchmen here are comically unreliable — I shouldn’t be shocked at all that no one is guarding the front entrance.
I pull myself into a sitting position as the boy slowly moves away from the door with his back to me. He stands frozen; looking as though he’s ready to bolt at any moment, and I can only assume he’s listening for his sister. I glance to her window and let out a breath when I see her light is still off. While it would be hilarious to see just how red her face could get, I really don’t want to hear the bitch fit right now…or dodge bullets. Too tired.
Her brother relaxes slightly but still looks skeptical. He shakes his head and starts walking away, his footsteps nearly silent. I have never heard a human walk so quietly.
Curiosity gets the best of me and I’m on my feet. Realizing I am following him out of pure wonder, I take a blunt left as soon as he’s in sight, taking advantage of my speed and managing to place myself in front of him. Leaning on a tree, I feign shock when he gets close enough to see me. His hand twitches and shoots behind him, but doesn’t snap back with a weapon. He’s looking me over, trying to assess if someone half his size is really a threat.
“I won’t tell Fi if you don’t,” I offer, looking up at him calmly. Damn, I think. This kid is stupid tall… I wonder if this is really Fi’s brother? She’s three and a half years older and he’s at least a foot and a half taller.
The look on his face clearly says he doesn’t believe that I’ve been sitting out here, in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, but he actually grins and nods. “Follow me.”
I’m taken aback by the friendliness. I recover quickly though and shrug. “Sure.”
He continues past me and I follow, trusting I’m not about to be skinned for some reason, or worse, ratted out to his sister. I’m not sure why but I don’t think he’s nearly as twitchy as her, but I suppose the fact he didn’t pull a blade on me on sight should give me some sort of hope.
When did I get so stupid? I wonder. Perhaps I’ve inhaled too much iron tonight.
“I’m Flint,” I finally say, breaking the silence. Eirnin doesn’t seem uncomfortable with the quiet at all, but I guess I’m just typically uncomfortable walking around with humans I don’t know. Go figure.
“Eirnin,” he replies; shooting a smile over his shoulder. “Nice to meet you. It’s impossible to get near you at home right now.”
“It’s impossible to go to the bathroom alone in your house right now,” I correct him and he laughs; ducking around a tree. He steps onto a dirt pathway and waves me forward, then breaks into a full run when he knows I can see where he’s gone. The old stone building of wh
at used to be an old book store still stands proudly at the end of it, even after the war ravaged the planet. It has a few chunks missing here and there, and one side of it is almost completely blown open, but it looks better than most everything else the humans’ chaos touched.
“Well come on!” Eirnin calls, waving his hands above his head. “Before someone sees you.”
I glance behind me to double check his paranoia and shake my head. The night is dead around us, the only corruption being a bird’s nest overhead — and even they are sound asleep. Nonetheless I jog to meet him and follow him as he steps into the store. The inside is a stark difference to the exterior; the wood shining as if it’s been buffed for countless hours, the books in alphabetical order by author’s surname. It’s quite obvious Fi and Eirnin have occupied it for some time. Gapes in the shelves show missing horror and suspense novels, and even a few romances.
“Things can be a bit loud back home,” Eirnin says suddenly. “I prefer the quiet here. No one wants anything from me. I wanted to bring Fi here, you know. She never has time to just hang out anymore, though.” His lips twist in a deep frown and he shakes his head before looking away from me.
I frown and wonder if Fi realizes how ignored she’s making her little brother feel. He takes a seat in one of the chairs beside a low table and I follow suit; collapsing gracelessly on the couch close to it. “Your sister doesn’t strike me as one who just…sits down and loses herself in someone else’s life.” I clear my throat to keep the question out of my statement. There’s a part of me that would like to believe Fianna has more than the spiky outer layer she’s shown me so far, but I’m not getting my hopes up.
Eirnin looks at me for a minute and I almost squirm under his intense stare. It’s like he’s looking straight through me into depths no one is permitted to see, and I’m severely unsettled by the feeling. Then, to make matters worse, he throws his head back and bursts out laughing. I bite my lip and shift to sit up. “The hell is so funny?”
“Fi is happiest when she’s stuck in a book,” he says, ignoring my question. “She used to hole up in the library in our house for hours. She’d camp there for whole weekends if our mother left her alone. Fi loves reading and she loves learning about other times and places.” He pauses and looks as though he’s said too much.
“So I’m just terrible at reading people, then?” I ask him with a grin. I honestly can’t wrap my head around little Fi sitting in a library, hiding behind a couch reading a book she’s too young to understand and hoping her parents don’t catch her, but I try not to show it.
Eir returns the smile and shakes his head. “No, you’re probably really good at reading people…just not my sister. She doesn’t really fit anyone’s mold of who she ‘should’ be. She’s just… Fi.” I must have a blank look on my face without realizing it, because he continues on. “You’ll see what I mean. Give it time,” he says knowingly and winks at me.
I repress the urge to ask what he’s implying and just smile. “I hope you’re right.” Not really. “So tell me… Just how much trouble would you get in if she knew you were out here? With me?”
Eir looks a bit scared by the thought. He coughs and shakes his head; his eyes still wide in spite of his trying to hide his evident panic at the mere thought of Fi knowing anything about this. “Uh…well, ‘a lot’ would be an understatement.” He sighs and then scowls. “I swear, ever since my parents left it’s like I need a guard to take a walk down the hallway in our house! She’s been crazy with this protective streak and it’s driving me nuts. I know she’s worried—I get it—but I’m not some useless little brat who can’t defend himself.”
“I’m sure she’s just being overly cautious—” I try; an image of my own little sister flashing in my mind.
“She doesn’t take a guard with her when she takes a run every morning!” Eir cries, looking sad. “So I told her when she starts using one, then so will I.” He pauses and shudders. “You’re lucky you weren’t here for that fight.”
I can’t help but chuckle at the thought—tiny little Fianna stamping her feet on the ground and yelling up at her extremely tall younger brother. I can see her face getting red and flipping her hair and storming off, though I don’t share these things. “I can’t imagine you didn’t have a migraine after that ordeal.”
The irritated look melts off his face and he looks sad again. “Fi never used to yell…at all. She cleaned house at poker. Not many people can read her. Only when she got scared would she ever yell, and Fi is close to fearless. Since our parents left, though, I can tell she’s getting a little bit closer to an explosion every day. I still keep pushing her though…” He looks over at me. “Does that make me a prick?”
“You’re not a prick,” I answer. “You’re her little brother. You’re supposed to push her past her limits and then keep on being annoying as hell.”
He chuckles a little and I smirk. No frowns on my watch — to hell with that. “I guess you’re right,” he says. “If she’d just listen to me I think I could make her feel better, but she doesn’t even hear me.” He shakes his head and shrugs. “Sorry, man. You don’t need to hear this. I’m just not used to her not believing me.”
He pushes the dark hair out of his face and I again want to punch Fi in the face. She’s so hell-bent on making sure he’s alive she doesn’t realize she’s wrecking him in the process. “Look, kid,” I say, “you ever want to talk, I’ll listen. I know I’m not your sister but…I understand family drama really well.”
Eir nods and offers me a smile but he doesn’t say anything more. I lean back on the couch and ask, “If you don’t mind me prying a little, what do you mean she doesn’t believe you? Like, she doesn’t believe you can make her feel better, or…?”
Silence settles over us and for a minute I think he might bolt out the door. Finally he meets my eyes and makes a few stuttering breathy sounds. “Well…” he manages after a while. “Sometimes…sometimes I just know things…and I can’t tell you why or how, but I can feel when something is true. And I can tell what people are feeling a lot of the time.” He drops his head and looks at me, looking fearful, as if I’ll scoff at him.
Instead I sit up and rest my elbows on my knees. I’ve heard rumors of seers and the like but never believed any of them — and never have I met one who didn’t scream nonsense about their inner voices screaming that I hate my father (like that wasn’t already public information). “Really?” I ask, and I actually sound like a child. “Have you ever been right about anything? Like, proven it to yourself somehow?”
A little bit of light sparks in his eyes but he still looks guarded. I get the feeling people have pretended to believe him before and then laughed when he went into detail. “I’m always right…” he says after a moment. “But this time I can’t ‘prove it’ alone…and we can’t go out looking for them, but…I know they’re still alive.”
“Who’s alive?”
“I can’t explain how I know these things,” he rambles on, not answering me right away. “And Fi always used to believe me, but when it comes to this, something in her won’t even humor the idea. No matter how many times I tried to tell her, she just shook her head and shut me out. She didn’t believe me at all.”
I open my mouth to ask him again what the hell he’s talking about, but before I can he says in a hushed voice, “She thinks our parents are dead, but I know they’re alive, Flint.”
I pause, unable to reply. Eirnin and Fianna’s parents left months ago with whispered promises they’d return in no more than two weeks. They knew more than they let on about whatever the hell they were looking for, and left their children alone to fend for themselves. To say I am not thrilled with the two of them would be an understatement. But why would they not have returned for so long if they were still alive?
“You don’t believe me,” Eirnin says slowly before I can voice that opinion. “You don’t get it. My dad knows what he’s doing, and he would die before he’d let anything happen to my mom. It�
��s Fi I’m worried about. She thinks I don’t see what’s happened to her since they left — but I see everything. Just because she tries to keep things from me doesn’t mean I don’t find out. She needs to believe me or she’s going to destroy herself!”
“Kid,” I say. He pulls in a deep breath and tries to calm down before meeting my eyes. He looks like he’s about to cry. “Listen to me. I believe you, okay? And I can help make your sister believe you if you’d like some help.”
He stares at me for a moment before turning his eyes up; trying to blink the tears from his eyes before they can fall. He sniffles and nods, then swipes at his eyes with a quiet, “Thank you.”
I nod and say nothing more. Instead I busy myself with looking at the coffee table in front of us, trying to let him compose himself in peace. Because I know if the situation was reversed it’s what I’d want him to do. Besides, what good am I at providing comfort anyway?
“I don’t know how you think you’ll get through her thick skull, but I appreciate your help,” he says suddenly and I look back to him. “I want my sister back. She used to smile, you know. And laugh, and just enjoy life. The smallest things would make her so happy. But it’s been so long since I saw her really smile.”
“I won’t make any promises,” I tell him. “But I’ll do my best.”
He offers me a sad smile and then his face goes blank. For a minute I think he’s heard someone outside and we’ll be crawling out a back window and running like hell away from his sister and her obnoxiously large knives, but then the light comes back to his eyes and he looks at me again like he knows way too much. “By the way…you need to let go of your guilt.”
“What?”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
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