by Natale Ghent
Poe looked at her with alarming resolve. “We have to, Cadence. Everything depends on us. But we’re not alone. We have each other.” He came to her, rolling up his sleeve to reveal a bandage on his arm. “I want to show you something.”
He pulled the bandage back. There was a raised mark the size of a silver dollar on the underside of his forearm—a tattoo of some kind—in the shape of a mandala. It was raw and red. Newly acquired. The ink was unusual. Not black, like a regular tattoo, but iridescent, like a pearl. She’d seen one like it, though more faded. She’d thought it was a scar or a burn of some kind that her father was trying to hide. When as a child she’d asked him about it, he’d refused to explain it. Now she understood why he wore long sleeves all the time.
“This is how we recognize each other,” Poe said. “The mark is only carried by Dreamers. It can’t be forged. The secret of the mark is deeply protected. If someone tells you they’re a Dreamer, make them show the mark as proof. If they can’t …” He gave her a foreboding look.
She traced the mark lightly with her finger. It felt electric to the touch. “My father has one.”
“Yes,” Poe said. “And you’ll have one too … if you decide to stay.”
“I didn’t know I had a choice.”
“There’s always a choice. I was uncertain at first too. Now there’s real hope that we can win against the Dark.” He moved closer. He had a strange light in his eyes. “Hex told us you were coming, Cadence. I got the mark because of you.”
Caddy stepped back in shock. How could he make such a claim? Who was she to inspire that kind of commitment? She was just a person, a nobody. She couldn’t give hope to anyone. She had no hope of her own. Hex had no right to put this on her. What kind of game was she playing? The last thing Caddy wanted was the responsibility of someone else’s expectation and trust, especially Poe’s.
She was about to tell him as much when they heard a branch snap. In the shadows of the trees, something was moving.
THE GUIDES
Skylark and Sebastian took to the streets. The city was as busy as ever with beings going here and there. What were they all doing? Skylark wondered. Nothing fun, that was for sure. Nothing even remotely interesting or human. Everyone was so serious all the time. And if you’ve seen one shiny crystal gold-domed building, she thought, you’ve seen them all.
What she really wanted was to flip through The Book of Events again. But she’d be hard pressed to convince Sebastian that staring at images of her human boyfriend was a good idea. She was actually formulating a plan to ditch the mouse and come back out on her own when she heard laughter. Not just one voice—many voices—all laughing at some great joke. It sent a spontaneous wave of euphoria through her body.
“Who do you think that is, Sebbie?”
The mouse sighed. “I don’t know. But I’m sure we’re about to find out.”
Skylark glided toward the sound. “Listen,” she said as they drew closer. “Is that music?”
“There’s always music in the city,” the mouse quipped.
“Not like this, Sebbie. I hear dance music!”
The mouse gripped her hair and held on as Skylark sped toward the sound. Rounding a corner, she sailed head first into a group of beings hanging around in front of a red-brick building. These beings were different. They weren’t wearing robes. They were wearing real clothes. And they weren’t tall like the Spectrals. They were various heights—like real people. Skylark couldn’t help staring.
The group fell quiet when they saw her, stepping respectfully aside. She nodded politely, making sure to keep her lips clenched for fear of being condemned as a mouth-talker. She could feel their eyes watching her as she passed. Cruising as casually as possible, Skylark moved to the back of the building to check things out. When she was sure no one was watching, she looked through the window.
“Look, Sebbie! There are hundreds of them!”
The place was filled with beings of every shape and size. They sat at tables and stood at a long bar, drinking and eating and laughing. In one part of the room, some were even dancing. What’s more, they were talking with their mouths! It was glorious!
“What is this place?” she asked, her nose pressed against the glass.
The mouse clucked his tongue with disapproval. “It’s a bar.”
“I want to go in.”
Sebastian tugged on her hair. “No. This place is for Guides. Your kind sticks to its own.”
“Why? They look friendly enough.”
“It’s just the way things are done.”
“I’m practically one of them,” she said. “Look at my shape—and my size. They’re stunty, like me. They won’t even notice my arm in there. I’ll keep it close to my body.” She demonstrated for him.
Sebastian twitched his nose. “They will know you are not one of them. They’re not the same Frequency as you. They’re not even on the same level. We shouldn’t be here.”
The mouse was determined to spoil everything, that was clear. Skylark pulled him from her shoulder and looked him in the face. “I won’t do anything stupid, I promise. I just want to go in and look around. Only for a minute. They’re having so much fun in there.”
“They’re not your kind, Skylark,” the mouse said. “Their place in the order is not the same as yours. The sooner you accept this, the happier you will be.”
The sound of her name caught her off guard. “You called me Skylark.”
“Yes, I did.”
She smiled. “I appreciate that.”
“I know it means a lot to you.”
“Yes, it does. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, can we leave this place?”
Her shoulders dropped. “Yes. But I want one more peek.”
Skylark watched the Guides through the window until the mouse insisted they go. She turned from the bar unwillingly and glided away.
“Who are the Guides?” she asked as they moved through the streets.
“They work with people, to help them in their life’s journey.”
“I thought the Advisers did that.”
“Yes … but Advisers don’t manifest on the earth plane,” the mouse explained. “They simply offer options and provide guidance as to the best choices during the in-between time.”
“What’s the in-between time?”
“The time between earth lives.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s where human souls go to get advice and readjust their life’s trajectory before they reincarnate on the earth plane. They spend the in-between time talking to their Advisers so they can make good decisions when they return to earth.”
“And then they become people again?” she asked, swishing to one side to let a group of silver beings go by.
“Yes.”
“And their Guides help them when they’re on earth?”
“Yes. They provide guidance to help keep people on track.”
“Oh.” This was the most exciting thing Skylark had heard since she’d arrived. She needed to learn more. “Do Guides always have so much fun? I mean, how come they’re not working and training like us?”
“Because their role is different,” the mouse said. “They train through remote observation. In fact, most of their work is done remotely, through dreams and projected ideas, though they often appear to humans in times of great distress to offer comfort and guidance.”
“Is that why they look like people—in case they need to appear?”
“Yes. They’re energetically connected to humans. It helps them to communicate if they pattern their form and energies to match those of people. Some assume other likenesses—dwarves, elves, rangers and such. It depends what their human feels most comfortable with.”
“So … they have shape, like me,” she said.
“They don’t have to. They just like to. Their true form is amorphous.”
But the Guides have a choice, she thought. Which made them as close to human as she would ever find in
the city. “How do they change their shape?”
The mouse clucked. He’d grown tired of her questions. “They just rearrange their particles. It’s not difficult for them, though it does take practice. Guides evolve over many lifetimes. They spend quite a few tours of duty in the corporeal world.”
“If their true form is amorphous, why do they assume human shape when they’re here?”
The mouse didn’t answer right away. “It helps to keep them connected to their human charges,” he finally said. “And for fun. Guides are allowed to enjoy human pleasures and interests—to some degree—to help them understand the ones they work with.”
Skylark sighed. Why couldn’t she have been a Guide? She swerved to avoid an Adviser, nearly gliding over its wolf in the process.
“Just keep your eyes on the road,” the mouse admonished. “It doesn’t help to dream about being something other than what you are.”
“But I—”
“Enough talk,” the mouse said. “We need to get back to your room.”
Skylark folded her arms. What was the point of being out if she couldn’t have a good time? If the mouse really expected her to give up everything she loved, he could relax a little. She was so frustrated with his rigid rules and constant strictness that she jumped home in protest, landing with a deliberate thump to rattle his teeth to the roots.
“Door open,” she growled, and then she slammed it closed after they’d entered the room.
Sebastian leapt from her shoulder onto the pillow and nestled in as before. She moped on the edge of the bed, staring angrily at the big brown book. The mouse wasted no time falling asleep. With nothing else to do, Skylark glided begrudgingly over to her desk and thought the book open. “Show me your purpose,” she said.
The book’s pages immediately filled with weird symbols and drawings and the tiniest writing imaginable. Skylark flipped through several pages, each one more excruciating than the last. She read a few lines. It was a manual of sorts, from what she could understand, written in the most laborious style. Something specifically for Warriors. She touched the page with her finger and the words enlarged in front of her. A voice recited the contents. It was the same stuffy narrator from The Book of Events.
Skylark clapped the book shut. She was not in the mood for learning—she would never be—especially after seeing the Guides having so much fun at the bar. She thought about what the mouse had said, how the Guides rearrange their particles to change form. Closing her eyes, she stood with her arms at her sides and imagined what that would feel like. After several moments, a funny tingling stirred in her fingertips. Her eyes popped open and she looked at her hands. They appeared the same. She glanced warily at Sebastian. The mouse was still asleep on the bed.
Closing her eyes again, she relaxed her mind and it opened like the petals of a flower. She imagined the molecules of her body moving apart and dancing slowly around each other. The tingling returned to her fingertips. It moved up her arms and across her chest. It crept to her scalp and down the length of her body, through her legs, across her knees, and all the way to her toes. She could feel her energy reaching beyond her shape. Slowly opening her eyes, Skylark saw a misty outline glowing around her form. At the centre of her body was a birthing star, pulsing and expanding. This must be her soul light!
“Mirror,” she whispered to the ether.
A mirror appeared and hung in the air before her. She allowed her mind to go deeper still, watching as her form turned to fog, breaking up around her. Her features blurred, and her body took on the appearance of luminous smoke. She conjured an image of the girl she used to be, and her particles danced slowly around each other, rearranging. To her amazement, her human self stared back at her in wonder from the mirror. She was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt with blue suede sneakers. Her heart-shaped face was surrounded by a mass of blond curls. Only her eyes didn’t change. They remained the same deep colour of violet. Skylark gazed at her reflection. How she loved her face. Her lips were full and her eyes were as big as a deer’s. It thrilled her to look human again. But what would it be like to have straight hair? she wondered. Her blond curls instantly relaxed and hung in a thick curtain over her shoulders.
“How about red?” she whispered, and her hair turned red.
“Shorter.”
Her hair halved in length.
“Frizzy.”
It looked like a halo.
“Longer.”
It tumbled down her back.
“Straight.”
It instantly relaxed again.
“Black,” she said. “The colour of raven wings.”
Skylark turned her head from side to side, admiring her shining mane of dark hair. She really liked what she saw. It made her want to go out again, to see how it would feel to move through the city in her new form.
She would have to change her clothes, though. Trying out a bunch of outfits, including half a dozen dresses, she eventually decided on pants, ankle-high brown leather boots and a black shirt—form-fitting and buttoned up the front with a collar and long sleeves slightly flared at the wrist. She changed the colour of her pants several times before landing on black as well. Scrutinizing her reflection, she concluded she needed something more, and gave herself a studded brown leather belt that clung to her hips. And fingerless gauntlets, laced at the wrists and dark brown, to match the belt. When she was happy with the results, Skylark closed her eyes and imagined her form solidifying and holding its shape. Opening one eye, she was astonished to see that it had worked. Well, most of it. The healing cord on her floppy arm was still visible through the shirt, though its colour had deepened to a shimmering brown. She puzzled over this for a while, decided she liked the look and went with it.
Throughout this process, the mouse slept peacefully on the bed. Would he approve? She wasn’t going to wake him to find out. I’ll only be gone a little while, she told herself. What harm could it possibly do?
Swishing softly to the door, Skylark whispered for it to open, glided out and closed it quietly behind her. She wanted to stroll through the city in her new form, take her time, and gauge the reactions of other beings. But that would take too long. What if the mouse woke up? Or she ran into someone she knew? Best to jump instead, she thought.
Skylark hid behind a tree on the edge of the practice field and imagined the bar where the Guides gathered. The roar filled her ears and the stars started to slipstream. She felt a tremor in her body and to her dismay, her robe snapped back into place. “Oh!” She’d ruined all her hard work.
Calming her mind, she focused on her new outfit. The robe dissolved and the new clothes reappeared. She centered herself, to jump again. As soon as the roar began, her robe returned. She’d have to glide to the bar after all.
Moving as gracefully as possible, Skylark floated through the city, avoiding eye contact with the beings she met along the way. She could feel them watching her. Were her seams showing? Could they tell she’d changed her form? If they could, no one said anything. They’re only staring because you look so awesome, she reassured herself. When she reached the bar, she gathered her courage and glided up to the door.
“Open,” she thought.
The door didn’t move.
“Open,” she said with her mouth.
Nothing.
Skylark grabbed the handle, yanked the door open and stumbled backwards. Straightening herself, she cruised into the bar and was met by a wall of music, laughter and conversation. It was so exciting! She cased the room, trying to look like she belonged. Every table was full and everyone seemed to know each other. Where was she going to sit? There were a few empty seats at the bar. She would take one of those.
Several Guides greeted her as she passed. She was definitely drawing attention. She nodded, maintaining her cool. What she really wanted to do was stare at everything—the way the Guides were dressed, the things they were drinking and eating, the way they talked with their mouths. It was hard to contain herself. She chose a seat on
e away from a casual-looking Guide. He was sitting alone, leaning over some bluish-looking drink, tapping his fingers absently to the music. She absorbed as much of him as she could from the corner of her eye. Blond hair. Blue jeans. Hooded shirt. Cute. She felt guilty for thinking that last thought. What would Poe say? She stifled a laugh. She was having so much fun.
After several minutes of sitting, she was approached by an affable being behind the bar. It was tall, formless, little more than a face reflected on water. It smiled and small lights sparked at random intervals through its energy field.
“What’ll you have?”
Skylark shifted in her seat. “Umm. Pardon me?”
“To drink. What would you like to drink?”
She’d paused too long. She hadn’t had anything to drink since … she couldn’t even remember when. The being waited expectantly. She cleared her throat, speaking in a low voice. “I’ll … uh … I’ll have whatever he’s having.” She pointed surreptitiously to the cute Guide beside her.
The being reached beneath the counter and produced a heavy-bottomed glass. Pushing a lever on one of the taps, it filled the glass with a viscous blue liquid and placed it in front of her. She thanked him … it … lifted the glass to her lips the way the other beings were doing and took a sip. The blue liquid burned all the way down to her toes. She coughed. It felt good, and deeply familiar. Like whiskey. Only blue. And thicker. It filled her body with the most incredible sensation of warmth.
“Hey, it’s good,” she said, raising her glass.
The blond Guide shot her an amused look.
“Cheers,” the bartender said.
After several sips of the blue liquid Skylark felt confident enough to swivel in her chair and check out the scene. How amazing it felt to be part of so much commotion. This was a joyful place—it was easy to see that. The Guides were fun to watch, too. They assumed every shape and size—some old, some young, some fantastical, like gnomes and druids and elves.
Tapping her foot to the music, Skylark threw her drink back and ordered another. Raising it to her lips, she caught a Guide staring back at her from a shadowed corner of the room. He was tall, Japanese by the look of it, twenty, maybe, with short black hair, a long overcoat and black pants and boots. She liked his style. He was wearing sunglasses, even though the light in the bar was far from glaring. She watched him for a while. Then he stood and walked toward her. Oh no. Skylark spun around in her chair and faced the bar, her cheeks burning. Seconds later the Guide appeared, leaning casually next to her.