by C. J. Valles
“So, Ever. Are you going to convince Wren to go to the dance next month, or what?” Lindsay Gallo asks, leaning toward me before turning to Wren and sticking out her tongue.
“If she agrees to go with me, we’ll be there.”
When Wren’s fingers tighten against mine, I turn to her and smile.
***
I have never in my existence devoted so much time to contemplating human sustenance. First, I go about finding a closed-down restaurant on the Willamette River. After purchasing the property outright, I pay a crew to renovate the space. Perhaps after the night I have planned for Wren, I will have the space turned into a soup kitchen—a small space dedicated to a few of this world’s humans who spend their days and nights in hunger. Never have I experienced hunger for food, but I understand pain and being shackled by forces I had no control over.
Right now, my motivation for purchasing the property is less than altruistic. I want to watch Wren. Again, I wish to see her experience the simple human pleasure of tasting good food.
As I have told her nothing of our plans for Friday, she has been focused on the less-than-welcome task of meeting the others. I am certain she would be even less enthused if she knew my true purpose for the introduction. I must reveal to the others that I have betrayed them. I am prepared for the consequences; however, I am confident in Alistair and Persephone—and I am hoping that their empathy will balance Audra and Chasen’s bellicosity.
The other reason I wish to introduce Wren to my family is one I am reluctant to admit even to myself. If there is a possibility that she will join us in eternity, my family will become hers.
I continue to turn over in my mind the expression on Iago’s face as he looked upon Wren for the first time. Finally I come to the chilling and highly unwelcome conclusion that he may see in her the same as I see. I want to disregard my fear—and I have ample motive to deny that he could wish for a partner, an equal. He is a scoundrel and a traitor. How could one such as Iago love another? It is not possible.
He sees her as a bargaining chip—something to be offered or conceded to Victor, or something to threaten him with. Fortunately, his innate self-interest assures me of one thing: he will not harm Wren—she is too valuable to him, though in a very different manner than she is to me.
I love Wren Sullivan because of who she is, not what she can offer me.
When I asked her if I could take Wren to meet my family, Wren’s mother proposed no argument. In fact, she was relieved at the prospect of the two of us not being alone for the entire evening.
After a week of sharing Wren with the rest of the world, I have to restrain my covetousness in favor of vigilance. Audra and Chasen still pose a significant risk. As I drive toward the house, I glance at Wren, who is vibrating with nervous energy, her eyes focused on the trees whipping by the window. When I touch her hand, she bolts forward, triggering the safety belt’s mechanism.
Her eyes widen as the unmarked road curves and the house comes into view. In her mind, I catch a glimpse of the calm, flat waters of the Pacific Ocean in early morning, comparing it to the clouds reflecting in the glass. Studying the vehicles parked in front of the house, Wren looks over at me in mock accusation.
“Do you all play the lottery compulsively or something?” she asks.
“Wealth is easy to accumulate given enough time.”
Wealth also matters little in the absence of meaning—meaning I at long last have found in her eyes.
“It can’t hurt to read minds and never sleep,” she says, smiling widely.
I laugh as I park between Alistair’s 1964 Austin Healey MK III in British racing green, Audra’s silver Lotus Evora, and the black utility vehicle that Chasen built to withstand all manner of human weaponry. Looking over at Wren again, I frown, barely able to track her thoughts as she steps apprehensively from the car. Is she afraid I cannot protect her?
“No one is going to harm you,” I say in what I hope is a reassuring tone as I take her hand.
She takes a deep breath and shakes her head.
“I just know I’m not about to win a popularity contest.”
I cast a blistering look in Chasen’s direction when he shifts to the front of the house.
“I like you well enough, for a human,” he tells Wren with a grin.
Wren’s thoughts completely disappear as she braces herself and meets his gaze.
“You could have fooled me.”
It is quite clear—to me—that he likes her.
“Hmm, well, I like you more now,” he says, his speech patterns easily falling into the casual cadence of young humans today as he turns to me. “Ever, she’s either brave or exceptionally—”
“Watch yourself, brother,” I snap in warning, my message delivered at a speed that Wren could not possibly comprehend.
Chasen laughs and raises his hands in surrender just as Audra appears in all of her daunting glory.
“I, too, have to give you more credit for sustaining Ever’s attention.”
Wren shakes her head again when she realizes that Audra now stands beside Chasen. I glare at my sister. She could wither most human females—and males—with nothing more than a single look, and Wren studies her with evident dismay before looking down at her own clothing. I accept that Audra will be the last to welcome Wren. I also concede that I cannot command Audra to bow to any of my wishes—but I expect her to respect my choices.
“Relax, brother. We haven’t scared her too terribly,” Audra says in haughty dismissal of my ire.
Wren turns and smiles at up at me with feigned confidence as she imagines herself shrinking like Alice from Charles Lutwidge Dodgson’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. As I lead Wren up the steps to the house, she studies the home’s design with unreserved awe. I glare at Audra and Chasen as we pass them. None of us has forgotten their earlier ambuscade. Wren glances warily over her shoulder.
Until I have a better idea of their true intentions toward me—in the absence of Ever’s caveat that they’re not allowed to squash me like a bug—I’m going to treat them the same way I would a bear or large cat at the zoo. With the utmost caution and deference.
I place my hand at the small of her back as she imagines her ride home with Chasen. She reaches up and touches her pendant in a way that reminds me of Catholics touching a cross worn at the neck. Do I provide her the same sense of security? The difference is that my congregation is but one, and I will do anything to keep her beside me. Only one thing in this world or the next will part me from her, and that is her wish for my absence from her life. Wren passes through the house in awed silence, her eyes flitting across the artwork and instantly recognizing it as mine.
“Beautiful,” she whispers, her voice quiet with a reverence that humbles me.
I guide her down the hallway until we reach the main living room. Wren stops, blanching at the sight of Alistair and Persephone.
These people can’t be Ever’s parents. … Wait, he said he wasn’t even born—
Alistair begins walking toward us, cutting off Wren’s thought process as he smiles broadly at her. I disengage my concealment as he reaches for her hand.
“It is wonderful to finally meet you, Wren. My name is Alistair. And this is Persephone.”
“It’s nice to meet you both,” Wren says in a polite tone.
She smiles at them, buoyed both by their friendliness and their less than common names. Alistair turns to stare at me now that he knows for certain what she is.
“You must have many questions, Wren,” Persephone says taking Wren’s hand in hers briefly.
“So many I can’t really keep track.”
Wren flinches, and she touches her fingers to her lips. Persephone’s innate empathy as a human transformed into the ability to relax inhibitions—even ours—to the point where it is nearly impossible to lie to her. Chasen leans toward Wren with a thrilled expression.
“Don’t sweat it, Wren. Not even w
e can hold our tongues around Effie.”
Wren starts at the sound of Chasen’s voice behind her, and she turns in a daze to look at Audra and him before looking back to me.
“Do all of you have superhero powers like Ever?”
Chasen laughs, and Wren’s cheeks turn pink.
“Wren, we’re being rude.” Persephone looks over Wren’s shoulder at Chasen. “Why don’t you come sit?”
Wren follows her and sits down. Taking a seat beside her, I glare at Chasen and Audra. For several seconds, Wren stares at the four of them, wishing she had a camera with which to immortalize them, perhaps not realizing that we will outlast any digital photograph. Then she stops breathing for a moment.
Wait. They’ve probably been together as a—clan, platoon, unit, family?—longer than I can imagine, she thinks as she envisions me painting the four of them over and over across the centuries.
“To answer your question, Wren: yes. Like Ever—and you—each of us has strengths that go beyond normal human capacity,” Alistair says, breaking her reverie.
Audra and Chasen’s postures immediately shift, and Wren’s face becomes pale as Alistair looks over at them.
“Ever was right to keep it from you,” Alistair tells them calmly.
“What right does he have? We are family. She is nothing to us,” Audra spits, pointing derisively at Wren.
Rising, I snarl at her.
“Yes, we are family, but she is the one I choose to love”—my speech slows to a speed Wren can understand—“Speak that way of her again, and you are nothing to me.”
Never have I seen my sister so shocked beyond words. When Chasen touches her shoulder, she rebuffs him. Instead, she stands and walks slowly toward us. Sensing Wren’s fear, I step to block Audra’s clear path as Wren sits, motionless, behind me.
“After all this time, can you not trust me?” Audra asks slowly enough for Wren to understand.
Cautiously, I stand aside, resting a hand on Wren’s shoulder, prepared to shift immediately if Audra reaches for her. Instead, she kneels before Wren.
“Wren, forgive me. These four in this room are my existence. Without them, I am alone. You are the first change to visit us in longer than you can imagine. Still, if Ever welcomes you, then I must as well.”
Rising, she shifts, to where I know not.
“Your girl is still breathing. That’s a good thing,” Chasen says to me before turning to Wren, his expression apologetic. “Wren, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got damage control to do.”
When he vanishes, I turn to Wren, who looks up at me.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice penitent.
I laugh harshly at the thought of her apologizing for Audra’s misbehavior.
“Wren, you have nothing to apologize for,” Alistair tells her. “I should have offered them some forewarning. It was my error in waiting until now.”
He looks at me. Yes, I should have guessed that Alistair saw beyond my subterfuge; he, too, fell in love with a human whose powers closely matched our own. I reclaim my seat beside Wren.
“But if they didn’t know about me, then how did you?” Wren asks warily.
Alistair smiles at her.
“I couldn’t be sure until I held your hand in mine.” He looks at me again. “Ever had done an excellent job in concealing you.”
“But why?” she asks, turning to me.
“There was too great a risk of Audra or Chasen committing an impulsive act before I had a chance to explain.”
Wren swallows as she remembers offering her hand to Chasen that day in the cafeteria.
“Wren?”
She looks up at Alistair.
“Would you like to know more about us?” he asks in a soothing tone. “It might help to dispel some uncertainty.”
She nods, and I sit back as Alistair begins to relate an abbreviated, simplified version of string theory.
15: Checkmate
As I drive toward the restaurant, I am well aware that Wren is somewhere else, her thoughts spinning in circles, trying to absorb Alistair’s brief description of planes of existence that lie beyond her perception. There is still much we have yet to fathom about our origins; however, our understanding eclipses what most humans are willing even to contemplate during their lifetimes.
Wren, too, is a part of what most of humanity is unwilling to accept. Extrasensory perception is widely declared fanciful by scientific minds and, across time, often heretical or sacrilegious by those who believe in an omnipotent god to the exclusion of all else. Wren understands this.
For a sixteen-year-old girl, she has accepted with equanimity truths that have caused others before her to go mad.
She remains lost in thought as I park in the deserted lot of a restaurant that does not exist. I look over at her as she stares unseeingly through the window. She is, in a word, beautiful.
“Wren?” She looks at me as though she is coming out of a trance. “We’re here.”
When she smiles, the look in her eyes remains sad, and I sense a chasm between us.
How long can I fit into his world? How long can he fit into mine? she wonders bleakly.
After spending an eternity in darkness, I will do anything to share my existence with her. Stepping from the car, I walk around and open her door. When she takes my hand and steps out, she pauses, looking around for signs of human activity. Glancing at me, she quirks an eyebrow, but I simply smile as I lead her toward what shall serve as a restaurant for a single night. When we reach the entrance, Wren’s eyes widen in surprise as I open the door and take her coat.
Delicate lights illuminate the periphery of the space, and I watch as Wren’s gaze travels around the room. Finally she sees the table with candles in the center. Turning, she looks at me again.
Why aren’t there any people here? she wonders silently.
Smiling again, I lead her to the table and pull out her chair before taking the seat across from her. She turns and stares out the window at the lights reflected across the dark waters of the Willamette River. Returning her gaze to me, she leans in, her face alight with curiosity and moderate alarm.
“Why are we the only ones here?” she asks in a hushed voice.
“I wanted to be alone with you.”
“Okay. … But this is a restaurant, right? Don’t they usually require multiple patrons?”
I smile again as the server approaches.
“Not tonight.”
She smirks at my nonchalance before jumping and sitting upright at the sound of the server, who has been standing tableside for a few seconds. Wren watches speechlessly as he leaves a bottle of sparkling water and a glass before vanishing into the darkness. She looks to me with an expression of disbelief and consternation.
“This has to be a dream,” she whispers, almost to herself.
I frown, frustrated by her unwillingness to accept that I will love her forever, regardless of the consequences—because my love for her, while unexplainable, has eclipsed the pain and solitude that has been my existence.
“You think that often,” I point out.
“Um, yeah. Because this isn’t supposed to be my life!” she says with a mixture of hilarity and hysteria.
I feel a spike of regret for not protecting her from the truth.
“I’m sorry, Wren. I—”
“Stop apologizing, would you!”
Reaching across the table, she takes my hand in her small one, staring into my eyes with earnest determination.
“Ever, no one has made me feel like you have. This is like a fairy tale. Wonderful and scary …” She trails off as my frown deepens. “And I keep thinking that I’m going to wake up, and you will have never even existed. Because this sort of thing doesn’t happen to someone like me. … And I’m not stupid. I know you never would have looked at me twice if I hadn’t been some mind-reading freak of nature. So the fact that you want to be with me is kind of … amazing.”
The moment she finally falls silent, I lift her from her
seat, raising her to eye-level with one arm as I brush her cheek with my fingers. Staring into her eyes, I channel my memories of her since that first moment in Springview’s cafeteria and cautiously allow the images to flow outward. Wren’s breath catches as she sees herself through my eyes. Finally she blinks, returning to the present moment. Only when I see myself reflected in her eyes do I realize how much restraint it required to suppress the darkness in my mind that could destroy hers. Lowering her to the ground, I watch her face as I speak.
“Beautiful girl, why can’t you see that I am impossibly fortunate to have your love, despite what I am and what I’ve done?”
“Hello, brother.”
When I turn to face him, Iago begins clapping slowly, alerting Wren to his appearance. She gasps when she realizes I am standing in front of her. What she does not yet know is that I am blocking her sightline to Ashley Stewart, who stands beside Iago with a blank expression.
“Bravo. Touching. Truly,” he says in a mocking tone that betrays something darker—jealousy?
I feel Wren stiffen behind me as she recognizes the voice.
Iago, she thinks despairingly.
“I find I never tire of being one step ahead of you. As long as we play this game, it never gets old,” my opponent says with self-serving merriment.
This time he is correct. He is one step ahead of me, because after what I have told Wren about him, how can I expect her not to assume the worst—the worst being that he will kill her young friend before her eyes. I take a step forward, wanting to undermine his advantage. If Wren realizes her friend will not be harmed, she will be more likely to leave here with me.
“You should ask the girl first how much she cares for her friend,” Iago says
“What?” Wren gasps.
She immediately leaps from behind me, her eyes focusing on Iago’s form seated at a table several meters from us. When she sees a girl beside him in the darkness, Wren stumbles slightly.
“Ashley!”
Not surprisingly, the girl fails to respond, locked in a state of stasis, courtesy of Iago.