The Tree

  Hu nodded and concentrated on putting on his seat belt while Blooded Haru gunned it through a red light.

  “Wow, they just are really not giving a fuck right now, are they?” The younger girl said, sitting up in the backseat and turning around. He glanced back as well.

  “I don’t think we’ve been introduced, but perhaps that language isn’t appropriate right now,” Hu reprimanded.

  The girl turned to look Hu in the face.

  “Oh, are you trying to play that? Right now? My name is Reina FOYPOS. It stands for fuck off, you piece of shit.” Reina smiled at him.

  “We good?” She asked, gesturing at him. He said nothing, mouth falling open. She smiled wider. “Yeah, we’re good.” And turned back to look behind them.

  He glanced to see the two figures finally falling behind the speeding car. Blooded Haru began to slow down and the Reina girl sat back properly in her seat though she made no move to put on the seat belt.

  “Suit Longworth, can you call it in?” Blooded Haru asked.

  The Suit in the passenger seat was a tall and thick man. His blonde hair was long and braided along his nape and down the back of his shirt. He picked up the CB radio and pressed the handset.

  “This is Car 6 reporting in. We’ve found Mr. Hu. He was almost picked up by another company, but we got to him in time. Over.”

  “Is the other company still following you? Over.”

  “No, we lost them.”

  “Okay, then bring him in.” The words crackled over the radio and Hu breathed a huge sigh of relief. “We’ll need bait for the hook.” Hu caught his breath.

  MAESTRA LUKA

  Luka walked into the large building with no fear. She was dealing with politicians, and that meant that she could show no weakness. She already had two strikes against her when it came to dealing with the government—she was a woman and she was Latina. At the same time, these “disadvantages” had trained her well not to give a flying fuck what most of these men stuffed on their own importance thought of her.

  The woman at the front desk asked for her name and directed her to the third floor while looking her up and down. Luka had not come in her most professional dress because she was tired and could not be bothered to give that much of a shit about living up to their expectations. Her slacks were clean, if a bit threadbare, and her button-down shirt was untucked but it was otherwise in place. Of course, it could have been the Converses on her feet that the receptionist was gawking at. Luka had been running and fighting too much lately to consider wearing heels.

  This being the Bay Area, it was somewhat better than other cities she had lived in. Meaning she was not the only brown person roaming the halls of government, though gentrification and tech bros had whitened it up considerably. The office she wanted was right off the elevator. It wasn’t the office she had told the woman in front she was going to. Luka did not have time for red tape.

  The Mayor’s office was not easy to get into for most people, but Luka was not most people. She ducked into the woman’s washroom and took a deep breath, playing with the light streaming in through the small, sealed window. Luka brightened it and dimmed it and made it run around the room. The simple exercises calmed her. The next step involved her least-used power, because it was the one she had the most problem with, so her nerves were uncharacteristically raw.

  Luka gathered the light around the room and slowly bent it around her body. She looked in the mirror and saw nothing.

  All of Luka’s senses were working except her ability to feel light. As long as her power bent to making light avoid her body she could feel nothing of her sense of light. The world felt different, wrong. She hurried from the bathroom, opening the door as little as possible, leaving so anyone who saw to convince themselves it was the wind. She did the same as she slipped inside the Mayor’s office. In the outer office people were working and chatting. She was careful to disturb and touch nothing as she moved toward the private office behind everyone.

  Luka felt the panic welling up in her stomach as her body reached out for the light that she was keeping out of its reach. She cracked the Mayor’s door very carefully and slid inside.

  He looked up as the door closed behind her and Luka let the light come rushing back.

  He jumped and his mouth fell open.

  “Hello, Mr. Mayor. We have to talk.”

  “Do we have an appointment?” The man looked flustered and uncomfortable.

  She did not sit, enjoying looking down on him.

  “What I am about to tell you is not usually revealed to politicians so low on the totem pole of power.” Luka knew she was antagonizing the man but she could not seem to help herself. “Simply put, this world is not what you thought it was.” Best to get the shock out of the way quickly. “This is not the only plane of existence and we are facing an invasion.”

  He smiled at her in that way that people did when they thought someone barking mad. She saw his hand move under the desk and sighed.

  “So, I’m going to assume you just hit the silent alarm. We’ll talk more when you’re alone.”

  Luka spied the window behind the man. She could turn invisible again but was glad she didn’t have to. Instead she changed her body to bright golden light. It felt amazing. The anxiety that had pierced her when she was invisible was completely absent. Unlike the dim, artificially lit outer office she could hide her own brightness in the light of the window, and did so. When the security guards came running in, the patch of sunlight behind the Mayor was maybe a little brighter than it should have been, but who would notice that?

  Luka was confident that even should they check the security feed they would see nothing. Even if they had people watching live they would have not seen her. The Agency had people whose power lent itself to interfacing with technology and they were running interference. She had never heard of such a bloodline and was going to request their files from Dayida as soon as she saw the other woman again. They were still wary of one another but they had found common ground and were slowly becoming something like friends.

  Hettie was much more terrifying. The woman looked at Luka as if she were someone that Hettie had not yet decided should be allowed to live. Luka was over forty years old and had been through her own travels and tight scrapes. She did not fear much but Hettie Jayl was no one to play with. Hettie was convinced that the Organization had betrayed her and though Luka had not been with them at the time she could see that Hettie painted them all with the same brush. The things Hettie had done while part of the Organization had been legendary, and the rumors of what she’d been up to over the last two decades? If even half of them were true, she was an extraordinary Blooded and a vicious enemy.

  Once security had searched the office, and the Mayor was getting sidelong looks he definitely did not enjoy, he dismissed them. Luka waited another few minutes before she floated out of the patch of sun behind the Mayor. His eyes went wide as her bright form moved in front of his eyes. She made herself flesh again.

  “Can we not do that again, Mr. Mayor? It will just be more annoying and your staff will start to think that you’ve lost it. Can’t afford that rumor in an election year, can you?”

  She watched him move his hand away from the security alert button.

  “Thank you.”

  “How did you do that?” He asked shakily.

  “As I was saying, there is another world that is invading.” She gave him the general spiel, people descended with powers and enemies in the other world. She refused to get into a philosophical discussion with the man.

  It took Luka over an hour to talk the Mayor down from his panic attack and another hour to get him to stop asking inane questions and focus on the matter at hand. Once he was finally working with her, she had to admit he was not completely inadequate. If . . . no, when she survived this, she would force the Organization to revamp its rules for contact and cooperation at the local-government level.

  They sat and worked out the details of an alliance to keep the
ir small section of this world safe.

  ZAHA

  Zaha felt guilty, but it swiftly passed. They had all promised that they would help her find Carlie, but so far there had been nothing. So she was borrowing some things to see if she could find out on her own. She had listened to all the office talk. She knew that most of the Suits were born with powers. Zaha also knew that wasn’t the only power there was. Some of the Suits weren’t born special at all, which had surprised both the younger and older Jayls, as much as herself.

  One of the Suits, his surname was Botha, though she forgot his given name, had explained that he was of no bloodline whatsoever.

  When the older Jayl had incredulously inquired as to what he did for the Agency, he had explained that he was an excellent scrier. Hettie had seemed to understand, though she still watched him with surprise on her face. The younger Jayl, however, asked for an explanation and Zaha got one as well. There were rituals that many could tap into with the right equations, will, and perseverance. Her plan had started to form then.

  Finding the Agency library had been easy and sneaking a book out hadn’t been as difficult as she imagined. Zaha was fairly sure they would have just let her borrow it but she didn’t want to have to explain. She understood that her friend was not a priority for them because of everything going on. They were mourning those they lost, but they also moved on quickly, refilling teams and partnerships immediately. Zaha felt like she was seeing what war did to people emotionally and she was more scared of that than the war itself.

  Zaha’s intentions were pure and she would be forgiven, of that she had no doubt. So why was she breathing so fast? She did her best to calm her mind and look down at the book. The title, Of Things Forgotten, People Lost and Names Remembered, seemed very promising. She flipped through until she found a page titled “To Call a Missing Loved One”.

  She read the description and then the method. It was supposed to reach out and connect you with someone that you hadn’t seen or heard from in a while. It was perfect. According to the book it would compel the person to contact Zaha as soon as possible through the most direct means available.

  The math was not simple but once she pulled a piece of chalk from her art kit and began to mark the equations onto the hardwood floor she flew through them. Her focus in college was cultural history but she was no slouch in math. When she had the final equation, she chalked it out in a circle, placed a candle in the exact center and lit it. The candle flame went yellow and then black and then disappeared.

  She waited. When half an hour had passed she went to recheck her math. Then she recast it and waited another half hour. The changing of the flame color meant Carlie was alive but it refused to trace her location and Zaha could not figure out why. Zaha took a deep breath to hold back the scream she wanted to unleash. She refused to give up. She decided to try another of the rituals; equations; spells—whatever they were called.

  She found one called “To Find a Thing Hidden”, and the calculations weren’t nearly as difficult, which gave her some hope. She had to give a time for the moment she had first “gained” the item, and she hesitated. When had they had first met? The first day of third grade. Or should she use the first time she had considered Carlie her friend? End of third grade, when Carlie beat up Joanna MacNair for starting rumors about Zaha. She chose the first time she laid eyes on Carlie. The other requested information was simple. How old was the object? Twenty years and one months. Where was the item last seen? The Embarcadero mall. What was the location to search? She figured Carlie was most likely still in San Francisco proper but she still expanded the radius of the search to include Oakland and some of the peninsula and north bay. Just in case.

  She lit the candle one more time. Carlie’s name was still visible written along the edge. The flame burned with the same golden hue as before. As she held the final equation, written on a small square of cloth, directly above the flame, its color shifted from golden to something brighter: a silver. The flame detached from the wick and floated up to her fingers, consuming the cloth without burning her. It then flared to white and floated over to the map that Zaha had laid on the floor. Slowly it circled until it landed and burned a tiny pinprick hole in the map before disappearing.

  Zaha hurried over to the map and looked at the location burned into it. The house was only a mile or so away; walkable, but Zaha was in no mood to deal with the catcalls and yells about her headscarf that would plague her. She took her car.

  She pulled into the driveway of an ordinary-looking house and stepped out of the car, after double-checking she had the right address. Zaha should really be calling this in, telling someone like Tae or one of the Jayls. They would probably be mad about the things she had done, yeah. But they wouldn’t just leave Carlie in there. She didn’t think.

  But then what if she had already tipped off whoever had Carlie? What if right now they were planning to move her somewhere completely different? Somewhere more protected? Somewhere Zaha would never find her again?

  Zaha was still biting her lips in indecision when she felt the shiver of someone watching her run up her back. She turned slowly and saw someone peeking from behind one of the trees in the yard. Once the person saw Zaha looking in their direction they moved out of the shadows. Zaha caught her breath, getting ready to run if necessary.

  It was the young girl, Melinda.

  “Melinda, what are you doing here?” Zaha asked.

  “I’m not really here.” The look in her eyes was detached, spaced out.

  “What do you mean?” Zaha took a step back toward her car.

  “You should leave this place.” Melinda looked around. “I wanted to help but Patrah says I’m too young. So I went to bed. I dreamed. I asked the dreaming if anyone needed help and it brought me here. But we should leave.”

  Zaha got the gist of what she was saying. Zaha knew that Melinda and Patrah’s abilities centered on sleep and dreaming. She was still trying to reconcile these people with her faith. She was not devout, had not been to a mosque since she was fifteen, but she did believe. Tae was easiest to deal with. Most holy work featured seers of some kind. He had suggested talking to Patrah about it but the others disturbed her more; even the child currently looking at her expectantly. Zaha answered her. “I can’t leave. I’m looking for someone.”

  “Are you?” Melinda looked at her. “Who?”

  “A friend who disappeared.”

  The young girl looked at her for a long moment and then seemed to come to a decision. She nodded and strode up to Zaha, looking at the building.

  “Let’s go then.”

  “You’re coming with me?” Zaha asked, surprised and nervous.

  “Yes. We don’t leave friends behind. Ever,” Melinda answered, some of the soft blankness leaving her face.

  “That is very sweet of you, but you’re young and I don’t want to endanger you.”

  Melinda’s eyes flashed and suddenly they were the eyes of an old woman, not a young girl. “Do not patronize me. You are much more likely to die here tonight than I am.”

  Zaha swallowed at that. She felt the truth in what the girl said. She was more likely to die tonight than the girl who wielded powers she didn’t understand.

  Melinda knocked on the door. “Hello. Anyone home?”

  Zaha caught her breath and grabbed the little girl’s arm. “What are you doing?”

  The girl looked at her serenely. “Seeing if anybody will come open the door. Unless you had another plan.”

  “Well I didn’t think announcing our presence to them would be the smartest plan,” Zaha hissed.

  “They already know we’re here.” The matter of fact tone sent chills down Zaha’s spine. “If they haven’t come out to greet us yet it’s because they want us inside. If that’s the case they might as well polite about it and unlock the door.”

  They waited but there was no answer from inside.

  Melinda shrugged her shoulders and stepped through the door.

  “What i
n the hell?” Zaha did not curse often, but this felt more than deserving of the opportunity. The door then unlocked and swung open. Melinda smiled at her from the other side.

  “It doesn’t look like anyone lives here.”

  Zaha took a step inside and had to agree. The rooms were empty and covered in dust as if no one had ever walked across the floor.

  “There’s someone nearby though. They’re dreaming dark futures. I can feel it.”

  Zaha stared at the girl but decided not to question the pronouncement.

  “Anyone awake?” She asked instead.

  Melinda shrugged and pointed at a door in the wall. “The dreamer is down there, though.”

  Zaha crept forward, alert for any sounds, and opened the door, revealing a set of dark wooden stairs leading down.

  “Of course it’s a creepy basement. What other choice would there be?” Zaha said out loud. She could hear the hint of hysteria in her own voice. She stood on the top step gathering her courage.

  Zaha

  The voice drifted up from the darkness and immediately scattered all her courage to the wind. She stood frozen as the voice called again.

  Zaha

  It sounded like Carlie.

  “That’s not creepy at all,” Zaha finally whispered.

  Help

  Zaha finally understood the actions of so many of those stupid people in horror movies, because, even though she was ninety-five percent sure it was a trap, there was that five percent doubt that squirmed around in her brain. She could not turn away if Carlie needed her.

  “What do you think?” She turned to ask the suddenly silent little girl, but Melinda had disappeared.

  Zaha reached for her phone. She would call Tae and tell him, but when she pulled out her phone, it remained dark, no matter how hard she tapped at the screen or its buttons.

  Please

  The voice drifted up again and Zaha swallowed her fear and put her foot on the next step. She descended slowly, ready to run back up the stairs if something came at her. When she turned the bend in the stairs she saw the dim basement laid out in front of her. It was as bare as the rest of the house, with no furniture or sign of habitation. There was a water heater in the corner covered in cobwebs, and a washer and dryer that looked like they belonged in the 1980s.