by Lizzy Ford
“In any case, call it destiny or fate. The biggest challenge in finding new Caretakers is the fact no one knows what makes us special. Those who recruit us have a really hard job finding candidates, but you caught someone’s eye. Good candidates are difficult to find.” Carey’s expression grew haunted before he shook his head.
I liked the idea I was special and not born to suffer as the path my life took led me to believe. Anxious to hear everything Carey had to say, I was also at a loss as to where to start. He knew so much about everything I needed to know. It was hard for me to believe I wasn’t accidentally placed when comparing my scarce knowledge with his comprehensive training. How was I not a mistake? Or was the timing of the Caretaker’s death the unforeseen event that prevented me from learning what Carey knew?
I was exhausted by the circles my mind had been going in for days now.
Carey appeared … distracted. His smile was as open and friendly as ever, but his eyes were shadowed, and he fidgeted with his napkin. It was close to impossible to guess what was causing worry lines to appear on the forehead of the alien before me. I knew less about him than I did Teyan and the Caretaker.
Sensing his quiet distress, I pushed the plate of cookies towards him. “Are you okay?” I asked. My questions could wait until he was less upset.
“Not really. I visited my home world, too,” he said more quietly. “Things have gotten so much worse for the other worlds in the time we were gone. This is the only safe place to be.”
“How bad is it?” I ventured. I had never really been interested in the business of the Five Peoples, but as a Caretaker, I felt like I needed to know something about what was going on.
“The Five Peoples’ alliances broke, and the monsters are slowly annihilating everyone.”
“Oh, god,” I whispered, stricken by the idea. “Are we supposed to do anything to help them?”
“Yes and no,” he answered. “We don’t interfere, but we have to be prepared to deal with whatever comes through the portal. I can see them needing medical assistance more often than before. You didn’t have time to learn about the full range of Caretaker responsibilities. I’ve taken a leave of absence from my portal in Massachusetts to spend some time with you and train you.”
“Thank you,” I murmured. “I know there’s so much more, but I don’t know where to begin. Like, why you didn’t call me, how I tell the visitors the door is unlocked, if I wanted to go through a portal, how do I do it? I went accidentally last time.”
“I’ll answer all your questions as we go. We’ll start tomorrow,” he promised.
This week was turning out to be the most promising I’d had in a long time. My mom was happy, I’d learned the Tili were alive, and Carey was going to help me figure out how to do my job.
“Just a side note,” he continued. “If you receive official word from the Council, let me handle them. You don’t want to be on the receiving end of a censure, if they get pissed off.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Great! Wanna show me around?”
I did so eagerly, proud of the house and garden. My mom joined us shortly after, and she and Carey discussed what he had missed of politics and the world. I wasn’t nearly as interested in the conversation and spent the time writing down what I’d discussed with Carey as well as new details I recalled from my six weeks with the former Caretaker. Seeing Carey again reminded me of a few things, such as the gorgeous eye color characteristic of his people and the tension between his kind and the Tili.
He worked with my mom in the garden for a while, and later on, we all put on coats and went to stand on the porch.
No visitors arrived this night. I wasn’t completely upset by this, since I had hope of the others spreading the word. It might take a while, but hopefully, the news reached Tili soon. By the time it did, I’d know what I was supposed to be doing and more about the five worlds from Carey.
Once we were certain no visitors were coming, we all retired to our respective rooms.
It was the first night in a long time where I fell asleep quickly with the prospect of a good night of rest.
Until a strange sound awoke me from deep slumber. Squinting at my alarm clock, I pushed myself up and listened. Unable to identify the sound coming from behind the house, I climbed out of bed and tugged on a sweatshirt and shoes before leaving my bedroom with a flashlight. With any luck, it was one of the wild pigs, locally called javelinas, rummaging around the shed or one of the doors was flapping in the wind.
I crossed silently to the kitchen and leaned over the counter to peer out the windows that ran the length of the kitchen.
Someone was in the shed. The light was on, and the intruder had a flashlight, too. He had dragged or tossed out some of the contents of the shed and appeared to be looking for something.
I chewed my lower lip, debating what to do. If I called the police, it’d be at least half an hour before they arrived. The intruder would probably be gone by then.
The figure from the shed emerged, and I frowned, recognizing Carey’s features.
What was he searching for in the shed at this time of night? It was cold enough outside for his breath to float to the sky. I wasn’t dressed for a stroll, and he wasn’t a robber. After a moment, I shook my head and left the kitchen, returning to my bedroom.
Whatever he was doing, I could ask him about it in the morning. Uneasiness slid through me, and I tried to place whether it was my normal anxiety or something different. Carey’s sudden reappearance, days after I arrived here and after six months of silence, troubled me. I had been too excited to see him to wonder about his timing. On the surface, his explanation made sense. He had gone to the Council and to his home world. I’d have done similar in his position.
This didn’t, however, explain why he couldn’t have contacted me somehow or why he was so unlike himself this visit or why he was tossing things around the shed.
Deciding I was too tired to solve this mystery tonight, I went the long way back to my room so I could visit the calming garden then the front door. The time was wrong for anyone to visit, but I had developed a paranoia-level concern for the lock, despite knowing I’d taped the bolt open and put up a sign.
Before I reached the door, I saw the envelope on the door in the dim lighting of the Christmas lights strung in the foyer. I plucked it free. It was made of the same material as the one proclaiming me to be a Caretaker. After checking the lock, I returned to my room and tugged off my sweatshirt before dropping into bed.
I turned on the light and removed the letter from its envelope.
“Caretaker, the Council has tried to reach you on many occasions the past few months. Be warned: someone has begun making Caretakers disappear for a purpose the Council cannot determine. Of the fifty portals worldwide, forty nine are now without Caretakers. We would advise you to contact us, privately, by the same method you received this letter, and confirm you are safe and the portal is open. We will provide you with instructions upon receipt of your response.”
I frowned. I had no real loyalty to this ambiguous Council or any other Caretaker. I didn’t know any of them, nor did I care. The claim that Caretakers were disappearing, though, struck me as odd. Was this their way of telling me I was in danger? If so, from what? It couldn’t be the Five Peoples. If the Komandi didn’t bother me, and they were the least pleasant of all the aliens, then who did that leave?
Upon rereading the message, I grew more concerned. I didn’t care about the Council, but I did care I might be placing my mom in danger, if there really was some kind of danger.
I tore a piece of paper out of my notebook and wrote a quick note to the people I’d never met before, assuring them I was alive and well. Tucking it into the envelope, I left my room and went to the front door. Uncertain how to send magic mail, I held it up to the door and pressed it against the rough wood, expecting it to fall.
It didn’t. The envelope remained in place after my hand dropped and then, like the visitors, simply vanis
hed.
Shivering, I didn’t stand around waiting for more weird mail but raced back to my room. I placed the note in my journal, beside the first one the mysterious Council had sent me, and then went back to bed.
Chapter Sixteen
“That makes five,” said Carey the next morning.
Piles of first aid materials lay before us on the formal kitchen table. Each was color coded in a way I recalled vaguely from how the Caretaker had done it. When I helped her save Teyan, I hadn’t known why she kept five separate first aid bags, each a different color, but I did now.
“Tili are intolerant to iodine, Komandi to alcohol, Woli to pretty much everything plastic, Bikitomani to saline and salt of any kind, and Nidiani to anything lactose based,” I recited the lesson Carey had been teaching me. “This goes for food, too, where applicable.”
“Perfect!” Carey said. “Every Caretaker color codes the bags the same way, so visiting Caretakers know what to do in an emergency.”
We didn’t have five bags for everything, so I had marked the colors on index cards next to the piles of medial supplies. My mom was busy with the garden, leaving the two of us to talk about official Caretaker business.
“First on our list is done,” Carey said. “Second lesson for today: basic rules of Caretaking, which I think you know most of.”
I broke out my journal to write down the rules. They were fairly simple: never side with any clan over another, provide food and lodging upon request, act as a mediator when needed and keep the portal completely secret from the outside world.
“Most apprenticeships are undertaken to teach you basic physics, the art of diplomacy and how to deal with the different races,” he added. “The rules are very simple, but mediating, and furthering peace with people like the Tili and Komandi, can be very difficult. There is over a million years of history behind how the Five Peoples interact with one another, and usually, the apprentice learns the high and low points to help them navigate the politics.”
A million years? I wasn’t able to imagine a history that long. “That’s why you hate the Tili,” I murmured, recalling how much he despised even Teyan when they’d met.
“It is,” he confirmed. “Some things in our past are harder to forget.” He handed me a piece of paper. “I printed the portal times for you. The five races tend to intermingle on one another’s world often, but the worlds themselves are only accessible at these times every day, relative to the local sunset and sunrise.”
I studied the paper. My numbers weren’t exact, but I did have the general timeframes and order down from my stay with the former Caretaker. The portals entered after sunrise, after sunset, and two of them – Komandi and Woli – opened around midday. “How do we go back and forth?” I asked and tucked the paper in my journal.
“It’s easy for me, but I’m used to it. I think the key is to be on time and to not think about the portal itself. It’s like when you see something from the corner of your eye and when you look directly at it, it’s gone. You don’t want to look or think directly about it. Does that make sense?”
“Not really,” I replied. When I went through to Komandi, I wasn’t thinking about the portal at all. I wish I remembered what had crossed my mind that exact moment, but I was all emotion.
“Hopefully you never need to go through. Caretakers from your world rarely do,” he replied.
I was quiet, thoughts on Teyan. It was stupid to think I’d need to go to his world for any reason and even stupider to think I’d ever see him again. But I really wanted to. What happened if I waited to hear word about, or from, him for months, maybe even years? Dared I risk going into his world to find him?
Yes. I didn’t know how we had such a strong bond. That it was present at all, and I was compelled to find a complete stranger on another planet, kind of freaked me out.
“Hey, Carey, I saw you in the shed last night,” I said. “What were you looking for so late?”
His smile faded, and he looked away. “Nothing really. Just couldn’t sleep.”
“So you decided to reorganize the shed?”
“I was considering gardening. Something about planting those crazy seeds always made me feel better. At one point, she had these fern branches I used to plant and these massive ferns would grow as tall as the house. They were my favorite.” His smile was sad. “But they weren’t there, and it was too cold to keep looking, so I came in.”
I studied him. “Why do you need to feel better?” I asked and handed him another cookie from the plates heaped with them my mom had left.
“There was some … drama on my home planet,” he said vaguely.
“And here with the Caretakers disappearing.”
He looked at me blankly.
“You know … the forty nine who have vanished?” I prodded. “I thought you would’ve learned about that from the Council.” Gathering up our empty teacups, I took them to the adjoining kitchen.
Carey followed. “You said they disappeared?” he asked.
I glanced at him again. He appeared more troubled than he had since arriving, and his golden eyes were stormy. “Yeah.”
“Who told you this?”
I pulled out my notebook, pulled the letter from within the depths of its pages and handed it to him.
“I thought I told you not to deal with the Council,” he said and took it. He scanned it quickly.
“Sorry, but when a magic envelope appears on the door, I’m going to open it out of curiosity,” I replied. “You didn’t tell me that’s how the Council communicates or I wouldn’t have opened it.”
“True.” He offered a tight smile and handed the letter back. “Sorry. I know almost all the Caretakers. I can’t imagine … I mean, disappeared?”
“Do Caretakers have enemies?”
“No. Never. The peoples we deal with revere and appreciate us. Honestly, Gianna, my people and those I’ve met kind of view humans as children. Your civilization and world are so young compared to ours. It makes my people treat your kind very gently,” he added.
At times, I forgot he was one of the inter-dimensional aliens.
“Then who would make them disappear?” I asked. “It has to be someone who knows about us, right? So that narrows it down to the different Caretakers and the Council.”
“And any Caretakers who washed out of training,” he added.
“How do you wash out if only a handful of us can do this?”
“Not everyone has the temperament for it. Sometimes people let their personal feelings get involved with their interactions with the Five Peoples and sometimes …” His gaze was on the ceiling, his fingers drumming on the table. “I need to send the Council a letter.” Without awaiting my response, he turned and left the kitchen quickly.
I watched him. I still had so many questions, and he was willing to answer according to his own schedule. Once he said we needed to prepare ourselves for medical emergencies or other emergencies, I relented with my need to interrogate him and let him choose the pace at which he revealed his information. I definitely didn’t want a visitor to come here for medical help and bleed out or have an allergic reaction. Given the Five Peoples were at war and would soon all know once more that the portal was open, it made sense to be prepared.
Yet every time he left the room, I also feared he wasn’t coming back, and I’d never have the answers I needed. He hadn’t struck me as flighty or evasive when we first met but this visit, he seemed both.
My phone vibrated, and I pulled it out of my pocket. My mom had texted from the garden.
Post office called. There’s a letter I have to sign for in town. I’ll pick it up tomorrow during my mail run. Probably paperwork from my brother!
I typed her back a smiley face then left the kitchen for the front door. Amused she texted when she could have yelled, I waved at her as I passed the central courtyard.
I reached the front door in time to see Carey placing his letter against the rough wood. It, too, vanished, and he stepped back, shaking h
is head. Sensing me, he turned and held out another envelope.
“They have more pressing concerns than censures,” he said.
I accepted it and opened it.
“Your presence is confirmed. Please alert us if you have any suspicious activity. We are sending an ambassador to your location to meet you and also to help you should you need it.”
I read it and handed it to Carey. “Ambassador,” he said. “Great. There are five senior Caretakers who sit on the Council and visit the different portals on occasion. They’re pretty nice.”
“Are they going to fire me? Or make you leave?” I asked anxiously.
“No, but I do need to duck out for a day.” He gazed into space once more and then shook his head. “I came here originally for advice from your Caretaker. Had I known this was how things would have happened …”
“I know. I know,” I said softly. “I ruined the worlds.”
“No, you didn’t. Your Caretaker and I did by not telling you what you needed to know. Usually, there is time to train someone new. I can’t recall a situation like yours ever happening. Don’t blame yourself, Gianna,” he said warmly. “If anything, you’ve been extremely brave in taking this on with absolutely no help from those of us who should have helped. I’m the one failing this test.”
His kindness always touched me. I didn’t feel as though I deserved to be called brave, but I appreciated it.
“While we await word, let’s go over a rough and short history of the Five Peoples,” Carey said. “I’m going through the portal this evening to visit home. I promise to be back in time for lessons tomorrow morning.”
I nodded. The sense he wasn’t going to come back lingered, though I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Distracted and moody this visit, he’d nonetheless answered my questions and taught me a great deal I needed to know.