“Mercy, get to the safe room.” Lena snapped, frustrated to have lost their good position.
Mercy ignored her. She settled over a well...and then stopped.
A second sun rose in the sky. In her head a power shone with a brilliant light so large that it blinded her ability. She had no idea how something like that could suddenly just be there, right in front of them. It didn’t come flying toward them incredibly fast. It just revealed itself: the strongest concentration of energy Mercy had ever felt.
She reached for her father and mother and found them quickly, gauging their reactions through her ribbons. They were as confused as she was. None of them could pinpoint where the mysterious person was. Not even the thin strings that connected her to people had any success in finding it.
Right on the heels of the bright light, the thundering voice struck them. Like an angry mother that had burst out of the house at the sound of shouts and found the kids doing something stupid and dangerous, it brought them all up short.
Stop it this instant!
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“Where are we headed?” Scythe asked when Heron returned to the car with a bag of clothes from the pricey department store he had just left. He hoped they were going to a place with a shower. Or a bath. Heck, he would take a hose and a bar of soap and be thrilled about it.
“I’m taking you out of town,” Heron answered and his hollow tone made it clear that he was still reacting to the news that Scythe had violated his mind, making him think and do what he wanted.
“Why?”
“To get you someplace safe from my uncle.”
“I don’t think we need to worry about him.”
“No? Then you’re the only one.” Heron shook his head. “There are going to be some dangerous family meetings.” He turned the key and the car started up. He pulled it out of the parking slot and headed toward the road.
“Heron, today is the vote.”
“Yes. We covered that already. You brainwashed me to finally have the nerve to defy my uncle, because heaven knows I never would have done it on my own.”
Ah, so that’s what he was upset about. “You might have. I think you would have, but you needed something to push you. For example, if Tiburon had threatened your wife, I bet you would have.”
Heron gave that some thought.
Scythe continued, “But he knew you. He really reads people well, for a man without powers. He knew exactly how far to push you to keep you under his control but not rebellious.” He shrugged, “Anyway, he’s not going to be a problem after today, so we should head back to the city. I want to get on the road.”
Now that he was free, he felt the overpowering urge to rush home as soon as possible. They were going to be worried when his next message didn’t arrive on time. He was just glad this hadn’t happened over the summer break; if she had been home, his Mercy would have probably threatened to end his miserable existence with her bare hands.
“You keep saying that but it isn’t going to change anything. To answer your first question, we have a little house up here, a retreat that the family shares. We can stop there briefly, you can clean up, and then we can see about getting you home.”
“Up in the mountains?” Scythe said, looking through the windshield at the approaching peaks.
“Just in the foothills.”
“But my home is the opposite way.”
“Well, I don’t know where your home is, do I? Besides, this is the best place I can think of for a quick stopover.”
His tone was very testy, so Scythe elected to let it go. One more day wouldn’t make that much of a difference. He decided to change the subject.
“So let me explain about your uncle.”
“Okay,” Heron said shortly.
“Every person that your uncle brought me I took information from and gave to him, just like he asked. And, just like he asked, I erased their memories, so they would have no idea what he had done. I had to do that, because he was going to use them and throw them out if I didn’t.”
“He said that to you?” Heron demanded, “Some of the people you mentioned earlier were high ranking officials. He could never have gotten away with it.”
Scythe was surprised at how appalled Heron was. Didn’t he know what kind of man his uncle was?
“Well, in the beginning, they weren’t. I’m pretty sure he was testing me then. Later, when he saw how reliable I was, and how easy it was, he got greedy.” It was obvious that Tiburon would eventually be too tempted to resist cracking his rivals over the head with his new hammer. “Anyway, the short answer is that I left a seed in every one of them, just before I said I was done cleaning them, and each one of those seeds is going to sprout today.”
“For the vote?”
“Yeah, because that was the only thing I knew of that everyone would be paying attention to for sure.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“They are all going to remember.” Among other things, but he didn’t feel that Heron needed to know everything about that. A large number of highly influential people were brought before him, people who directed government policy and engineered public opinion. He had compromised himself, soiled his character, and acted against his own moral guidelines by tampering with people who were in a position to hurt or help the Human population through their actions. Now he would have to wait and see if it was worth the sacrifice.
“Really?”
“Yes, and your uncle is going to jail and so are a lot of his friends, because I also left some interesting information that I delved up about them on the network and gave everyone I touched the location.”
One of the more outrageous and blatant offenses to the Kin was outlined in a file with enough evidence to lock up the key members of a small conspiracy that was over fifteen years old; it involved the deft, ingenious manipulation of Humans into attacking a Kin settlement, kidnapping Kin for experimentation, and the development of a dangerous biological weapon to use against them. Scythe had been following the cold trail on and off for all those many years and had almost given up on finding the clever minds behind the Poinsea conspiracy that had reshaped his life.
Then he stumbled upon one of the key members on accident while scanning the mind of one of the people Temper brought before him in his latest assignment. He gave Temper what she was looking for, and then took what he wanted: names, dates, and, more importantly, verifiable events. He started his file that night and built on it until it was thick with enough evidence to leave no doubt of what had happened.
There were seven of them, people he hadn’t even heard of who had been plotting since before he was born to bring Humans under their control. They hadn’t been able to accomplish it, but they had put the wheels in motion and then passed the reins on to people like Tiburon. Several of the original group had already passed away, but the rest would be seeing time in court and probably prison very soon.
More importantly, the scandal, along with a handful of others that were detailed in the file, would work against those who had been striving to smear the Human reputation for years. The file made it clear that Humans were innocent on most points; instead, they were the objects of malicious attacks. Scythe hoped it would sway public opinion in favor of Humans for a time. At the very least, it would make people suspicious of new allegations against the Humans, slowing the current trend significantly.
“My uncle will go to jail, but only if they don’t have him killed first, you mean,” Heron said, showing his understanding of how most people were going to react.
“That’s right. I guess I should feel bad about that, but...I don’t...at all. I know I said everyone was redeemable, Heron, and maybe it is true for your uncle. I don’t know. Maybe if he has a life changing revelation, he can be redeemed, or maybe if he rots in jail long enough, he’ll become a better person. But, Heron, he brutally tortured and killed Summer right in front of me, and, right now, I don’t care if someone does kill him.”
In the silence that fo
llowed, Scythe thought about what he had discovered about himself in the last couple of weeks. He wasn’t as firm in his convictions as he had thought. In fact, they couldn’t be called convictions if they changed whenever they were challenged, like they recently had been.
Did he really think everyone was redeemable? If so, how could he condone a man’s murder?
Did he truly believe that it was evil to subvert the minds of others? He thought he did. If that were true, then why had he done it, and why didn’t he regret it more?
Was he just a hypocrite after all?
When it came down to it, when the ride became really rough for him, his convictions had melted away, leaving him feeling...incomplete and a little lost. He spent a lot of time not thinking about it, because every time he did, he came up empty. What he needed was to get home, where he could think better and where the things that mattered were obvious.
Heron said seriously, “I hadn’t heard that, Scythe, about Summer. I’m sorry about that.”
Scythe nodded. It occurred to Scythe that Heron probably didn’t know a lot about what his uncle did outside the house. Most of Tiburon’s family probably only saw him at home or at family functions, kissing the kids and talking cheerfully and hugging his wife. If that was all they ever witnessed, then that was all they would ever know or believe about him. The other Tiburon didn’t live in their world. The other Tiburon didn’t even exist.
“Are you going to be all right?” Scythe asked.
“What, me? Sure. I guess so. He killed Summer. He tortured you, used you. He was not fit.”
“No he was not fit. Are you?” Heron had never had the need or chance to be a head member, despite his name, because his uncle dominated the family. Now it was time to find out if he had what it took. His family would need a lot of leadership after this.
“I don’t know, but I hope so.”
“I think you are, Heron.”
“If not, can you make me be?” he asked with a smile.
“No.” Scythe said and grinned. He thought Heron would do fine on his own.
Chapter 31
Two more twists with the wrench and it was tight enough to get the job done. Any more and he would strip the threads. He dropped the wrench in the toolbox, took the cloth that was tucked in the pocket of his pants and thoroughly dried the area around the joint. Then he looked closely and listened. He didn’t notice a thing, but to be sure, he took a paper towel and wrapped it around the pipe. He picked up the rest of his materials, stowed them and then checked on the paper. When he pulled it off, it was dry. He grinned. Done.
Scythe stood up and looked at the work that still remained: clean up the big puddle of water on the cement floor, remove the damaged cardboard boxes and repackage the cases of wine that were on the lowest level of the stacked pile. He put his box on the workbench against the wall and got started.
He pulled the bucket over to the edge of the puddle and then took the oversized sponge out of it and let it fall into the water. He knelt down, pushed the sponge down and let it soak up as much water as it could, and then squeezed it over the bucket. One. Then he did it again, letting his mind settle into the simple task. He felt the muscles on his arms and hands contract and expand, the stretch along his back and shoulders each time he leaned forward, the way the water was cool when he soaked up the water, but seemed warmer when it poured over his hands into the bucket. Twenty-two.
He inched forward toward the center a tiny bit at a time as the puddle shrank, the plastic screeching and the water sloshing inside each time he dragged the bucket along with him. At fifty-seven, he got up and stretched his legs, reaching his hands up and then shrugging his shoulders a few times to loosen the muscles. He took up the handle and carried the bucket the short distance to the wide double door to the winery’s primary storage shed, although it was large enough that it could have been a barn if it had been located on a farm instead of the vineyard. It also doubled as a back up bottling facility, but it was rarely needed since the main building had been upgraded the season before.
Several feet past the door, he found a good place to dump the water. He pulled the fresh, crisp air into his chest and held it, along with the scents that filled the valley: musty soil, the fermentation of grapes, the oil and fuel from the machines in the winery right across the lane from him, rich vegetation, and people. His people. He released the breath when a sharp twinge sprouted up right under his ribs; it was still there moments later when, with tightened lips, he turned around and went back to work.
He heard them coming long before their shadows fell across the damp cement floor in front of him. He picked up the box cutter from the floor, slid it closed and slipped it into his back pocket, and then continued bending the heavy cardboard into shape.
“Uncle Scythe, what are you doing?”
“Can I do that?”
“What’s this?”
“Why is the floor wet?”
He looked from them to the boy who had obviously been looking for a break from his babysitting duties when he had ushered them over with the casual, “I wonder why the shed doors are open?” that Scythe had heard moments ago.
Nine-year-old Will Young just smiled and leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest. The sight of him standing confidently like that surprised Scythe. He was growing up fast, in the way of the Kin. Well, as much as any Young could, anyway. They were still very Human, and yet, in many ways they were not like them at all. Scythe grinned, thinking that the Young Family was its own breed.
Then Scythe looked back at Lena’s twin boys: identical halfbloods with shoulder length brown wavy hair. They had their mother’s precocious nature but were the mirror image of Smoke. They looked perfectly Kin, at least so far, with small, thin lips, narrow eyes and Kin bone structure. They even had the thinner bodies that resembled the children of those Kin who lived with them. They’d never pass for Kin, though, because their scent would always be distinctly not-Kin and not-Human. Here, it didn’t matter. Later, though, when they began to interact outside the valley, they would struggle.
When he had first heard that Lena was going to have children with her Kin husband, Scythe was shocked. By then he had been working for the Scere for a while and didn’t see the Youngs very often. He had made an effort after a particularly emphatic message and went to visit them. He had stared at Smoke and Lena when they gave him their proud news. He couldn’t help thinking how cruel they were to commit a child to a halfblood life, or, since they were among Humans, to the life of a halfbreed.
But Lena had disagreed, and even used him as an example of how well things could work out. To Scythe, it was deranged that they thought his life could be held up like that as a model. He still remembered how much it had infuriated him. He had believed it was just an excuse for their selfishness. That had been his last visit.
A small hand pulled at his arm and he looked into a pair of pretty blue eyes. Lena’s daughter, who had never lived in a Human city, gazed up at him.
“Yes, Promise?” He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly.
She looked like her mother, which was why it amused Scythe so much that at even as early as four and a half years old, he could tell that her gentle nature was a perfect copy of Ian.
She smiled and laid her head on his unfortunately dirty knee. She didn’t want anything in particular; she just wanted to be near him. He picked her up and put her on his lap, brushing her face lightly with his fingers. She sat comfortably in his embrace and rested her head against his chest.
“You boys want to help?” he asked.
“Yes!”
“I do!”
“Okay, Loyal, you hold the tape. Your cousin the slacker can help you. Val, you and Promise can be my extra hands. Fold that side over, Val, and hold it there until we’re ready…”
It took at least three times as long as it should have, but not one minute was wasted.
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Edillian smiled. Ever since he had started calling, he had be
en keeping watch. He had been so disappointed when no one had responded, but now he grew excited. While he had rested during the day...something that seemed longer than ever before, now that he looked forward to the night...his power had pulsed and shown him a glimpse of what could be.
Someone is close. Someone who heard. Someone strong. He needs to come closer. I want him to come here, to me.
He crafted what little of his power he could still mold, wove it into a song and sent it out; but this time he kept it narrow, focused. It was just for him.
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Stop it this instant! The voice made its simple command with such irrefutable, authoritative confidence that Mercy instinctively responded to it. She couldn’t move if she wanted to. On top of that, she had the strongest feeling that she was in a lot of trouble.
Still, she couldn’t help wondering how the woman...it was clearly a woman’s voice...could talk to her directly without using power. Mercy couldn’t detect an energy connection anywhere around her. More incredibly, it looked as if she were addressing Lena and Smoke, maybe even everyone in and out of the house, all at the same time.
The men on the other side of the door suddenly dropped to the ground like rocks. The five users went blank in her mind. She cautiously sent a ribbon through the wall and ran it out over the ground outside, alighting on the people she found there. All were down and unconscious.
Now she was really afraid, and, turning to her father for guidance, she found that he felt the same.
Have...have you ever heard of a power that could do that? she asked them. Before they could answer, the woman addressed them again.
Calm yourselves. I have come here to help you. I have a power akin to your own, Faith Young, and I had a vision. In this vision, your peaceful family was attacked and, because you resisted, many lives were extinguished. I could not bear the thought of such a great loss, and so I came to intervene.
As she spoke, she dimmed until Mercy could finally see her. Mercy and her aunt and uncle went to the window and looked out to see the visitor. Dressed in traveling clothes and casually using an old, worn walking stick, the tall woman walked down the long road to their home. As she approached the house, she strode right past a pair of unconscious soldiers without looking down, her foot lifting just enough to avoid stepping on a hand in her path. When she reached the side door, she stopped. She had fine features on a thin face that was somehow difficult for Mercy to identify, either for race or age. She squinted, trying to get a better look in the morning mist.
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