The Green Memory of Fear

by B. A. Chepaitis

  “It’s been a pleasure having dinner with you Dr. Addams,” he said. “I’ll look forward to the next time. Maybe we’ll try Porter’s, for ribs and ice cream.”

  He turned to go, but the sudden stab of empathic contact stopped him from moving forward.

  Alex?

  Yes, Jaguar?

  Her words were hesitant. What are you doing?

  His reply, certain now, beyond all doubt.

  I’m courting you.

  A slow moment while she digested this, as if she was just catching on. As if she finally understood he meant this.

  Courting me?

  That’s right. Any objections?

  A pause in her thoughts as she retreated into herself to consider. Then, her response.

  Not yet. I’ll keep you posted as we go along.

  She broke contact and he shuddered, feeling her absence.

  “Goodnight,” she said out loud. “I’ll call you after I’ve met with the boy.”

  As he walked down the steps and out onto the street, he had the distinct impression that she stood at her window and watched him go.

  * * * *

  Jaguar packed after Alex left, putting the Davidson book, the Senci file, and a bag of dried mint in her bag along with her most formal business outfits, generally reserved for meetings with governors. She didn’t like them. Didn’t feel comfortable or able to move the way she wanted to when she wore office clothes. That, if nothing else, kept her away from research assignments. But she’d take this one, because a little girl led her to it. A girl with wild eyes, and a silver laugh.

  “Wild child,” she sang softly, “Full of grace. Savior of the human race.”

  Odd, that she should feel like singing. She liked the original version of Toronto much less than the Planetoid replica. The original was too polite and reserved, too much like a business suit for her to feel comfortable there. Here there were eccentrics, runaways, oddballs and people with wounds they’d honored and healed.

  Occasionally she and Alex would go to the Planetoid eco-site, where the technicians kept the shield down and they could stare at the earth, that beautiful blue planet, spinning in space. It eclipsed all other stars, but Alex said that the people on earth viewed the Planetoid as a star, their population all star children.

  Jaguar laughed, but she knew what he meant. Star children. Refugees from the blue planet. She supposed if she survived long enough, someday she’d get too old for her job and retire to New Mexico, stay in the village Jake and One Bird had established. Toronto, on the other hand, she could do without. Yet she’d chosen it. Because of a little girl with wild eyes who wore her dress, whose presence brought a dark and bitter wind.

  And she felt like singing, in spite of that. Some emotion she couldn’t name was surging to the surface, and it didn’t feel quite in her control.

  “It’s idle curiosity,” she said out loud. “That’s all. I’ve never been courted before.”

  She continued to sing as she packed, and when she was done, she felt both tired and unable to sleep. She put her head down on the pillow anyway, hoping sleep would find her if she went through the motions.

  Then weakness washed through her legs, and her stomach turned over.

  “Hecate,” she whispered. “What is it?”

  She moved her glance around the room. There, at the foot of her bed. The little girl, this time wearing yellow pants and a red sleeveless top. Jaguar remembered them. They’d once been hers, too. But she looked different. Not playful at all. Her eyes were hungry and afraid.

  We’re waiting for you. Hurry.

  Jaguar propped herself up on her elbows.

  Wild child, she sang softly, full of grace.

  The girl listened, then frowned.

  Why are you singing that?

  Because it’s who you are.

  The girl stared, her large dark eyes baskets of questions waiting to be filled with answers. And enough hunger to empty the whole world.

  You are my wisdom, Jaguar said, not sure what she meant.

  The girl lifted a hand, reaching out as if she could touch Jaguar, be touched by her.

  I’m like you, she whispered. We’re the same.

  Jaguar nodded. The little girl lowered her arm and disappeared, taking the wind of bitterness and hunger with her as she left.

  Chapter 4

  Home Planet, Toronto, Canada

  “You must be Dr. Addams. I’m Susan. Please come in.”

  Jaguar stood on the front porch of the Karas house on Spodina Street as Susan Karas opened the door wide and extended an arm inward. Jaguar crossed the threshold into a wide entrance hall with a thick Persian rug laid over shiny white tiles. Expensive. The best.

  She followed Susan into the living room and looked around. It was painted in neutral tones, with neutral furniture and beige satin curtains at the windows. Paintings of muted pastel flowers and family photos hung on the walls. The flowers in a crystal vase on the coffee table were fresh. The rug was thick and soft and clean. She’d read in the files that the Karas’s had old money, through the father’s family.

  Mrs. Karas waved toward the deeply cushioned couch. “Please sit,” she said.

  “I appreciate your cooperation, Mrs. Karas,” Jaguar said.

  “Of course,” she said, waving it away. “Anything—if it will help with this mess. It’s awful. Oh, and do call me Susan.”

  Jaguar considered telling Susan to call her Jaguar, then sensed she wouldn’t be comfortable using that name. It wouldn’t go with the furniture, or her very expensive and neutral clothes. She was groomed as perfectly as her house, but Jaguar noted the fatigue lines at her eyes, the pinched flesh at her mouth. She was holding tight, trying to get through events nothing had ever prepared her for.

  “It’s been tough on all of you,” Jaguar commented.

  “Worst for Daro, of course. He can’t go to school, so he’s getting tutored through the courts, and the guard follows him everywhere. You were stopped by the one out in front?”

  Jaguar nodded. A large man in a protective vest took her credentials. The Province was going to a lot of trouble to make sure Daro didn’t die, or kill anyone in some embarrassing way, as the other boys had.

  Susan sighed. “Everyone’s been great, really protective. His guards, and his law guardian’s wonderful, but Daro has to answer all these questions over and over again. And so do I. So does his father.”

  “What questions do they ask you?”

  “Oh, why did we send him to Dr. Senci? Do we have any marital trouble?” She made a derisive sound. “Marital trouble. As if that explains why Daro—why any of this happened.”

  As if they were the criminals, Jaguar thought. Technically, anyone who reported sexual abuse was only a witness, acting properly as citizens to help the Province prosecute a crime, but Daro was inherently suspect because he’d gone to see a neuropsych specialist in the first place.

  “Daro went to Dr. Senci for help with nightmares, didn’t he?” Jaguar asked.

  Susan confirmed this, but added that nightmares were too mild a word. He had wild, raging, terrifying dreams that woke him nightly and kept him up until daylight, when he could sometimes collapse into a few hours restless sleep. He stopped doing his homework, going to school, playing with friends.

  His parents wanted to know if he was a candidate for Liratone, a new wonder drug for childhood Attention Deficit Disorder that had the unexpected benefit of giving beautiful, soothing dreams. They wanted the best for their son, and Dr. Senci was known as that, so they consulted with him. Dr. Senci’s notes indicated his belief that Mr. and Mrs. Karas were somehow creating the nightmares. They were suspect from the minute they called him.

  And for all Jaguar knew, they should be. She’d worked with enough pedophiles to know upper middle class white parents were not immune from that moral disaster. It was entirely possible that Daro, unable to accuse his parents, threw the blame onto the nearest available substitute. Jaguar had to consider that possibility.
Of course, it didn’t explain what happened to the other boys, but technically that was none of her business. She was here only to collect information on Daro and Dr. Senci.

  The panel of judges they’d present their case to, borrowed from the Medical Protective Board, made a public fuss about their policy of zero tolerance for sexual abuse between doctor and patient, but the MPB also took care of its own, so Jaguar was also wary of them. She knew they’d agreed to a closed hearing, at the parent’s request. She wondered if that was to shield Daro, or the doctor. Or maybe it was meant to shield the parents. This would wreak havoc on their social lives, Jaguar thought.

  Mr. Karas was in banking, and had a social circle where this sort of thing wasn’t mentioned. Mrs. Karas worked part-time in an art gallery, a pretty career for the wife of a banker. Of course, Daro’s name had been kept out of the press, and so Jaguar supposed they could still hide their involvement from some people, but if the trial was public, that would be all over.

  “Dr. Senci was treating the boys involved in the shooting, correct?” Jaguar asked.

  “Yes. Also for nightmares. Daro talked to one of them in the waiting room. They—they got to be friends. The other boy—John DeLucas—Daro didn’t know.”

  “Did you get a diagnosis for Daro from another doctor?” Jaguar asked.

  “Two. Good thing it was all covered. They went over him head to toe. They both said they wouldn’t have prescribed the liratone. Nothing wrong with him except—PTSD, they said.”

  “Post-traumatic stress disorder,” Jaguar said. The cluster of problems someone develops when they’ve been traumatized and haven’t integrated or healed the traumatic events. PTSD was assumed in her prisoners, and then specific syndromes diagnosed. What fear couldn’t they integrate? Why not? Did they need medication as well as intervention? She’d have to see Daro’s files to find out if the doctors had gotten any more specific.

  “That’s right. I remember I was just relieved he wasn’t born with anything wrong. I guess I worry,” Susan admitted.

  “He’s your only child, isn’t he?”

  “One I never thought I’d have. Even with the in vitro, I had a hard time going to term. I keep thinking—”

  She paused, and Jaguar filled in the blanks for her.

  “If only you didn’t have that glass of wine while you were pregnant. If only you were younger. If only you took more vitamins. And what about great uncle Harry who never was quite right. Like that?”

  Susan shook her head. “Stupid, isn’t it?”

  “Normal is a better word, I think.”

  “Well,” she said uncertainly. “Maybe. Would you like something to drink? Coffee, or something cold maybe? And a little food?”

  “Coffee would be wonderful, if it isn’t any trouble. Shuttle coffee’s the worst.”

  “No trouble at all,” she said.

  They were moving toward the kitchen when the front door swung open wide and then slammed shut hard. Jaguar turned, and saw a smallish boy in sleeveless net shirt and shorts, baseball cap turned around backwards on his head, a gold hoop earring with a growling tiger dangling from the end of it in his left ear.

  She found herself grinning. He could have been any child, from any age, except for the blinking electronic earcuff clipped over the tiger earring, which would allow him to communicate with his guards from anywhere. He scowled, removed it and laid it down on the table by the door before it was done blinking.

  “Daro,” his mother said reprovingly, “aren’t you supposed to keep that in all the time?”

  “Why? I mean, I can’t go anywhere except the yard and the stupid courthouse, and the guy’s always right there. And now I’m just here.” He stopped himself, and knit his brow at Jaguar. “Who’s she?” he asked, pointing.

  She walked over to him, keeping her grin under control. “I’m Dr. Addams,” she said, extending a hand.

  She saw his instinctive withdrawal. Another doctor, here to poke and prod at him.

  “Not that kind of doctor,” she said quickly. “It’s an academic title. It means I went to school for too long. You can call me Jaguar.”

  His face shifted its expression to interest. When he wasn’t scowling he seemed younger. Those eyes, open wide enough to let in the whole world, too wide to keep out danger.

  “Jaguar?” he asked. “Like those big cats? They’re extinct.”

  “Actually,” she said, “There’s still some left in captivity. Not too far from here, at a place called Exotic Cat World, off the 401.”

  “Superhype,” he said. “You mean that? Hey mom, you hear that? Maybe we could go?”

  “We’ll see,” she said. “I’ll talk to your father about it.”

  He grinned, lopsided. Mothers, his face said. Then he pushed his hand out to her, and she took it. “Are you, like, a lawyer?”

  “Not even close.”

  “Cop?”

  “Not that either. I’m a Teacher on the Planetoids.”

  His eyes widened with respect. The general public didn’t really know much about those bits of glowing light floating above them, but they understood the work there was dangerous. The rest they filled in with their own imaginings.

  “What’re you here for?” he asked.

  “Daro,” his mother said, “A little politeness, please.”

  “I wasn’t impolite,” he said. “I just asked.”

  “That’s fine,” Jaguar agreed. “Always ask when you want to know something. I’m here to collect preliminary information on Dr. Senci for Planetoid research, in case he ends up there.” She paused a moment. “And I’m here to help you. You did a brave thing, getting that recording on Dr. Senci. You deserve some help.”

  Officially, that wasn’t true. And officially, it wasn’t protocol. She wasn’t supposed to help. But she’d come here to do just that. That much she knew already.

  His face grew sober and concerned. She could see the places where his childhood would drop from his cheeks and the bones live close to the flesh. He would be a handsome young man.

  “It wasn’t brave,” he said. “I just didn’t want to have to, like, explain what happened. Besides I knew cops need evidence. Right?”

  She nodded. “You did the right thing.”

  “You gonna ask me a lot of questions about the other boys?”

  “Not too many,” Jaguar said. “I’m here about you, not them.”

  “I can tell you something,” he said firmly. “I know why they did it. Shot people.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he said to. And I know why they killed themselves.”

  “Why?” Jaguar asked softly.

  “Because they didn’t want to become him,” Daro said. Fear made his face young again, a little boy seeking shelter from madmen.

  She saw herself at his age, living in the streets, her hands covered with blood from the rats she’d catch and eat, her eyes a wall against everything. Then, as if someone had changed channels on a television, she saw Daro kneeling in front of Dr. Senci, whose face stretched into sexual ecstasy while Daro’s eyes were blank with horror. She saw him struggle to be released from the Doctor’s hand, heard him gasp.

  Stop it. That feels funny.

  Just a little more, Daro. Good boy. That’s the way.

  Jaguar stepped back, and the image dissolved. They hadn’t made contact. At least, she hadn’t. What had she seen? She took in air, a short breath sucked in between her teeth. Daro, looking at her, shuddered.

  Susan put a hand on his shoulder. “Daro?” she asked.

  He shrugged, but leaned into her at the same time.

  “We don’t have to talk about lawyers and trials just yet, do we?” Susan turned to Jaguar and smiled hard. “Let’s have a snack, and Daro, you should change and wash up for dinner. Let’s do that. Okay?”

  Jaguar turned to her. She was desperately seeking a way to keep this tidy and clean. And she hadn’t a chance in hell of succeeding.

  “I think that would be a very good idea,” Jaguar
said, and followed her to the kitchen.

  Planetoid Three—Toronto Replica, Zone 12

  The day after Jaguar left for Toronto Alex went back to the Senci file, and a hard copy of Davidson’s Etiquette of Vampires. He opened the book and the file on his desk, and contemplated.

  Dr. Senci’s file was merely a review of the basic facts. After the Serials his primary home was in Toronto, though he maintained his New York residence. He had money he said came from his family, but those records were destroyed in the violence, so they couldn’t check on that. Looting, mugging, searching the pockets of the dead—all this was common during the Killing Times, though Dr. Senci didn’t seem the type for that kind of thuggery.

  Alex drummed his fingers on his desk and peeked at his computer screen to check his calendar for the day. Final reports to file. Stats to update. He had training sessions all day tomorrow, something he often brought Jaguar to. Training was the best time to get to know new Teachers and to spot the ones with psi capacities. Jaguar could sniff those out even before the Teacher knew they had them, and given her own skills, she was the best at showing them how to use what they had.

  She carefully couched all her words in psychological terminology because the Governor’s Board still frowned on open use of the empathic arts, but they knew her, so they must know what she was up to. Probably they’d use it against her the next time she got in trouble, though at this point he didn’t think they’d fire her. She’d prevented too many potential PR disasters for them to risk that. They’d keep her around, because they never knew when they’d need her.

  He didn’t think they’d be so lenient if they knew she was researching vampires, subspecies Greenkeepers. He wasn’t sure what he thought of it himself.

  He stroked the book on his desk, flipped the pages around while he mentally reviewed the basics. Davidson said Greenkeepers accessed regenerative biochemicals through energy, blood or sex. She saw it as a specific psi capacity, and since it allowed them to live virtually forever, they had plenty of time to develop expertise in other psi capacities as well. They were usually hypnopaths and Telekines as well, often shapeshifters or Protean changers. If they were empaths, they would also be deeply shadowed, filled with that emptiness extant from the beginning of time.