The Tree

  “We simply do not know each other. I do not know your capabilities and you do not know mine. We are like strangers,” Hettie continued.

  “And whose fault is that? As for you I know—” Dayida stopped. What was she going to finish the sentence with?

  - enough

  - that I don’t care

  - you killed my father

  All of them were true in some sense. And applicable to her as well. She had decided to reveal her complicity in Daniel’s fate as soon as Erik returned. She couldn’t have that secret between her and Erik any longer and how could she ever expect Erik to forgive her, if she could not find it in herself to try and forgive her own mother?

  Dayida swallowed and spoke. “You are right. Even if we do not ever become close like family, we have to know each other to work together.”

  Hettie’s eyes widened again and Dayida smiled. The second time in as many minutes that she had shocked her unflappable mother. She could admit some joy at that.

  “I have Agents out watching all the known portals between Zebub and here. I am contemplating simply shutting them down but—”

  “If they’re active you know the points of entry they are going to use,” Hettie finished.

  Dayida nodded. “At least the most likely ones. I’ve also been diving into the files that were left here to see if there is anything that could help us. Any observations they made in their dealings with Zebub that could help us out.”

  Hettie nodded and the silence between them stretched.

  Dayida took a huge breath and closed the file under her hand, lifting it and handing it across the desk. “Did you want to help?”

  Hettie smiled and nodded before taking the file and cracking it open. Dayida watched her for a moment before reaching for the next one in her stack. They sat in silence for well over an hour reading file after file. Then Hettie made a small inquisitive noise and Dayida’s head came up.

  “What is it?” Dayida asked, leaning over her desk.

  “Maybe nothing, but there’s a note in here of several attempts on an older Blooded seer known as Fallon. Agents were sent to acquire him multiple times but every time he was already gone.”

  Dayida snorted. “Well, he wouldn’t be much of a seer if he couldn’t see them coming.”

  Hettie leaned over to the stack of discarded files by her chair and flipped through them, lying one after another on the desk between them.

  “Well, yes, and that wouldn’t be that interesting, but the thing is, there’s a file here for every year going back twenty-five years. Each one contains a request for a seer. The name and reasoning given changes but the details of their powers, their protections, and physical details are identical. It’s slipped in among vague requests for specific bloodlines. Though his bloodline is never mentioned,” Hettie pointed out.

  “That’s . . . odd. Why try to hide that they wanted this one particular Blooded? And how did no one notice?” Dayida asked rubbing her chin.

  “Each of these was a personal request from an Angelic who crossed over to the Agent-in-Charge. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew, but no one else did. He probably only gave his Suits minimal details,” Hettie theorized, snorting and leaning back in the chair.

  Dayida nodded. “If this is the same person over and over, someone in Zebub wanted him pretty badly and for a very long time. The question is why.”

  Hettie shrugged. “I don’t know, but look at this.” She reached for another file. This folder was bright red and stuffed so full that it looked fit to burst at any moment. Dayida shuddered at the sight of it. She’d skimmed it but had deliberately done her best to not look at details.

  It was one of several bright red folders that chronicled those taken and sold to the Angelics. This one was just list after list of bare details—name, age, description, cost, cover-ups enacted. The others had more details about each but Dayida did not really want to know.

  Hettie reached across and put her hand on Dayida’s.

  “I know. It’s the numbers, though, the number of acquisitions stays pretty low and steady way back to the 1800s. A couple of people a year—nationally. Then twenty-five years ago the numbers start to increase spectacularly to two-a-city and then begin to climb every other year after that. By the time we get to 2010 it’s over one hundred requests per city.”

  “Impossible. It was high but there’s no way the Organization could miss it rising that high.” Dayida pulled the file from Hettie’s hand and flipped through it. Hettie was right. They had been pulling a hundred people from San Francisco and the surrounding cities every year. She noticed the circled R next to most of the names. She leaned over to show it to Hettie. “Do you think this means returned?”

  Hettie looked up with dark, worried eyes. “That would be my guess. We always knew some of the abducted came back, we just had no idea it was so many.”

  “Me either,” Dayida answered. “So what, you think all these people were Seers?”

  “No.” Hettie shook her head. “We know that a lot of those they took were not Blooded at all. But this seer is obviously someone they’re desperate to recapture. And both started twenty-five years ago. They must be linked. Want to bet this Seer knows something about this?”

  “We need to find this person and ask them some questions,” Dayida said.

  “Yes,” Hettie agreed.

  “Finding them could be difficult.”

  Hettie shook her head. “Not that hard. If there’s one thing I know about Seers? Most can’t help but interfere in the lives of those around them. Contact all the independents again and ask if they know of anyone who helps the neighborhood they live in but shuns praise and attention. People like that garner attention no matter what they do.”

  Dayida nodded and picked up the phone on her desk to start dialing, while Hettie dived back into the files. She saw the small smile on Hettie’s face and could not help but echo it. Their first attempt at working together had gone well. She hoped the trend continued.

  MELINDA

  Patrah and Melinda were out in the panhandle park when the attack happened. One moment the park was peaceful and the next an older woman who had been sitting feeding the pigeons grabbed a jogger and launched him through the air. Patrah told Melinda to stay back and then moved toward the lady. Melinda leaned around the tree that she had scrambled behind, to get a look at what was happening. The woman was busy slamming the man’s head into the ground as he tried feebly to push her off.

  Patrah kicked the old woman in the side with no warning, knocking her off the man. The jogger groaned and tried to push himself to his feet but fell back down again. Patrah grabbed him by the armpits and began to drag him away, but the older woman had already recovered and dove for them.

  Melinda could see something was wrong about the woman: her eyes were too wide, and she opened her mouth and spit and hissed, but said nothing. The woman hit Patrah in the middle and the two of them rolled away across the grassy knoll. Patrah was up in seconds, on the woman’s back, trying to hold her down and clamp her wrists together.

  Even from the distance Melinda could hear her Counselor’s voice trying to convince the woman to calm down and stop fighting. The old woman wasn’t listening and slammed her head, too far back for normal, into Patrah’s face.

  She needed to help. Melinda sat, leaning back against the bark of the tree. She tried to drift off quickly the way that Patrah had taught her but she couldn’t stop wincing with every blow she heard land, wondering if Patrah or the old woman was winning. She looked around the trunk again and watched them trade blows. The old lady was vicious. Clawed hands swiped at Patrah’s eyes, while also trying to catch themselves in her short hair.

  Melinda turned away again, pressed her back hard into the rough bark, concentrating on that. She took a deep breath, and let go. She let go of the feeling of the bark against her back and the grass under her bare legs. The sounds of the fight were the last to go, but she was able to let those drift away as well.

  The lan
d of the dreaming exploded around her, reflecting the living world in odd shapes and angles. The tree she had been leaning against was very ordered in the dreaming, the bark a repetitive diamond pattern, the branches spreading above her perfectly even, like the spokes in a wheel. Melinda loved the weird ways that things looked in the dreaming but she had no time for that now. She looked over to where Patrah and the old woman were wrestling. In the dreaming, they were represented by the way they saw themselves. Patrah was a fighter, marred and bruised and bleeding but covered in a patchwork of gleaming armor, with a determined set to her face. The old lady was no lady at all. Here in the dreaming, Melinda could see what was wrong with her. Her dream self was twisted in a way that looked very painful. Patrah had explained that there were things that could do that: tear someone up inside so bad that people started to tear themselves up. This was different, though; something inside of the woman was trying to shed her skin, and force its way out.

  Melinda cast her hands out and the stuff of the dreaming came willingly to her palms.

  Quickly.

  Quickly.

  No time for finesse now. She just needed effective soldiers.

  She made them only half as tall as her; smaller and easier to make. She gave them wicked claws on their feet and hands and made them muscled. She gave them vicious teeth and smooth heads with nothing to grab onto. They flowed quickly from her palms, a dozen creatures coming to life under her direction. Melinda sent them after the older woman’s dreamself.

  Patrah had been careful to explain to her that any damage she did to people in their dreams would manifest in the real world in odd ways. You were tearing at their psyche. You could accidentally do a lot of bad things to someone.

  This wasn’t an accident, though. This was on purpose and as much as she wanted to look away Melinda didn’t. She needed to see what she had done. Her dream creatures ripped into the old lady with teeth and claws. They ripped at her odd angles and tore at the skin of her dreamself.

  Melinda’s vision went double and she could see it wasn’t working. In the real world, the old lady was still trying kill Patrah. Her creations were tearing at the old lady’s dreamself, but she wasn’t reacting. It wasn’t enough. Melinda could tell by the way the wounds and blood on Patrah’s dream self were multiplying that her Counselor was losing the fight.

  Melinda panicked and broke through into the real world. The midnight blue of the dreamworld tore around her, a large hole right between her and Patrah and through that hole she could see the real woman on Patrah’s back trying to get leverage to knock Patrah unconscious.

  Her creatures marched through the hole with no hesitation. In the sunlight of the park they practically glowed, their midnight-blue skin showing up brightly against the grass as they scampered in a line toward Patrah.

  The old lady felt them this time. She screeched and flung them about but they took no damage. They were made of dreamstuff; there was little in this world that could harm them. She could hear other people screaming but all her attention was on keeping the dream creatures in this world and on target. The old lady was completely preoccupied with them and Melinda saw Patrah rear back and kick with both her legs. The woman flew through the air and slammed into a tree.

  Melinda lost control over the creatures in surprise and they popped out of existence as she fell to the ground, exhausted. Patrah looked around and Melinda followed her gaze taking in the many phones pointed in both of their directions.

  Patrah rose to her feet and Melinda could see all the scratches on her face sluggishly bleeding. Melinda could see the way she was frowning as she got closer. Patrah picked Melinda up into her arms.

  “Did I mess up?”

  Patrah looked at her and said. “No, you didn’t, sweetie, but we need to get off the street.” But it was in that tone that meant even if Melinda hadn’t messed up, Patrah was afraid of something. Melinda looked over to where other park attendees were approaching the unconscious old woman, and Patrah moved them both in the opposite direction.

  PATRAH

  She hurried through the park, Melinda in her arms. The girl was too tired to complain about being picked up. The creatures that Melinda had created had disappeared but there were too many people who had seen; too many people who had their cell phones out and recording. There was no way to keep this quiet and Patrah needed to get them away before she could focus on damage control. She wanted to bring the old woman with them but it would have only draw more attention. Patrah would have to locate her later. Someone was surely calling her an ambulance right now.

  The sun was beginning to set and Patrah wanted to get Melinda to the safety of the downtown building before full night. By the time they reached the car Patrah had shaken off those who had tried to follow them. Melinda was lightly drowsing as she placed her in the seat and buckled her in. They made the trip to the Financial District in excellent time.

  Patrah wondered at getting a space right in front again. There always seemed to be parking in front of this building even when there was none for blocks in either direction. Some application of the Agency’s might, either through godspower or simple bureaucracy? Either way, Patrah was extremely grateful for it as she moved around the car and pulled Melinda back into her arms.

  She hurried up the steps and through the lobby. The sun was mostly down so the person behind the front desk was no longer Zaha but the night receptionist, a very friendly young man who went by the name Ford. She nodded at him and hurried past to the corner of the building where a folding of the walls, a small twist in design, hid the stairway from anyone who did not know it was there. Patrah had gone looking for them on her first day in this place. She did not enjoy the odd elevators with their liquid malleability.

  After climbing three flights she turned another hidden corner and was faced with a balcony of sorts; one that used to look over the atrium. Doors peppered the wall opposite the balcony. Most had been offices but in the last few days they had been converted into small suites for Suits and visitors. Even at its height the Agency had not had enough people for all the offices they had. Bureaucracy was the mother of useless redundancy but in this case, it had worked out.

  Mere seconds after she knocked, the door was opened by both of Melinda’s mothers, who looked at her in question.

  “What’s wrong?” Elise asked as she took her daughter’s sleeping form from Patrah.

  “She overextended herself too quickly without using the exercises I taught her.”

  “Why would she do that?” Elise asked.

  “There was an emergency.” She kept on before they could ask any questions. “She will simply need to sleep and rest. She’ll be fine in the morning.”

  The woman nodded and took her child into the room, presumably to lay her in bed. Jeni stayed in the doorway studying Patrah with a critical eye.

  “Is everything okay?” Jeni loved her daughter very much but never really asked anything about the girl’s training. She did not want to know about it, really.

  “I don’t know. People got video of Melinda using her power,” Patrah admitted.

  Jeni’s mouth dropped open and she stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her so that neither Melinda or Elise could hear what they were saying. “What now?”

  “I am going to talk with Dayida about that. In the past, the Organization would send people to pay off those who had evidence.”

  Jeni looked at her. “And those who would not be bought?”

  Patrah winced. “They had their reputations ruined, their credibility destroyed beyond repair so that no one would believe anything they had to say.”

  “What’s going to happen to Melinda?”

  “You don’t need to worry. She is my aspirant and I will do all in my power to keep her safe.”

  Jeni nodded, clearly wanting to say more but unsure of what it was she wanted to say.

  “I have to go meet with Dayida now,” Patrah said.

  Jeni opened her mouth but closed it again just as quickly an
d with a simple nod slipped back into her room; back to her wife and daughter.

  Patrah went off to Dayida’s office and found her seated behind her desk, her mother Hettie sitting in one of the two chairs that faced it. Both had been looking through folders until Patrah had knocked and let herself in without waiting for an answer.

  “Patrah, how can I—” Dayida broke off as she took in the expression on Patrah’s face. “What has happened now?”

  Patrah hesitated and finally asked a question of her own.

  “What happened here?” She gestured at the folders haphazardly stacked all over the place.

  “Tae has returned,” Dayida revealed.

  Patrah froze at the shiver of fear that wracked her frame. Why would Tae be the only person to return? Unless the others were—she stopped the thought before it could fully form.

  “The others?” Patrah asked.

  “Fine as far as he knows, though he was sent back in the midst of battle,” Dayida answered.

  “Sent back by whom?” Patrah asked.

  “He doesn’t really know, but his guess is Erik.”

  Patrah sat in the free chair next to Hettie. “But his powers have nothing to do with travel. It’s one of the rarest abilities among the Blooded and not at all connected to berserkers.”

  Hettie and Dayida were nodding through her talking, well aware of these facts.

  “Tae said that all of their powers were affected, and that they worked differently in Zebub. It’s possible it has something to do with that. The more disturbing part is that Daniel is a traitor in some way. It was the last thing Tae saw before he was swept back here,” Hettie stated grimly.

  “So maybe Daniel did it to get him out of the way?” Patrah offered.

  “Tae doesn’t think so. He’s fairly sure that Daniel wanted him dead, and not somewhere he could spread the information to others,” Hettie replied.

  Patrah nodded, digesting all this. “Where is Tae now?”

  ‘He went home to his parents’ house to rest.”

  “Is it safe for him to be out there?” Patrah asked.