by Rune Skelley
“Did she even miss me?” Fin asked, nearly inaudible.
“She didn’t choose to leave. She loves you, Fin. And so do I.”
Fin shot him an unreadable look, then wiped his eyes again.
Rook waited for a minute to see if Fin had anything else to say. When he didn’t she said, “Well, goodbye. Thanks for stopping by, Brad.”
“Thanks for hearing me out,” Brad said, more to Fin than to Rook. He gave Rook a tight smile and backed into the hall as she closed the door.
*** *** ***
“Fuck,” Fin said. “Fuck fuck fuck.” How was he supposed to deal with this shit?
Rook tucked Brad’s business card under Vesuvius, then moved behind Fin and put her hands on his shoulders.
“I thought that went pretty well,” she said.
“What, just because I didn’t punch him?”
She kissed him on the shoulder. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Maybe.” Fin wasn’t used to having someone around who cared about him and wanted to help him work through his problems. But he didn’t want to talk. At least not about his family.
Rook kneaded his shoulders in silence.
He knew how shitty Brad felt about failing to protect the woman he loved, and he guessed that meant he accepted that Brad loved his mother.
Fin didn’t want to relate to Brad. Their relationship had always been antagonistic, which kept things simple. Now he was in danger of understanding how guilty and helpless Brad felt when Willow disappeared. Brad had no way of knowing Willow would be kidnapped, the same way Fin had no way of knowing Rook would be. What made it worse was Brad only let Willow down once, whereas Fin let Rook get abducted at least three times.
Which makes Brad the better man. Wonderful.
Rook gave his shoulders a final squeeze and picked up her laptop.
“Does Brad know Vesuvius talks?” she asked.
“No,” said Fin and Vesuvius.
“Why?” Fin asked.
“The stuff he said about this Severin person lines up with what Vesuvius told you. If he doesn’t know the lamp is going to fill us in on his story, why would he try to convince you of something so outlandish? He was trying to get you to trust him, and that would be much easier if he left out the parts about the evil genius with a science fiction contraption in the basement.”
“You think he’s telling the truth?”
“Well, maybe.”
Fin bridled. How can she believe Brad?
“The world’s not how we always thought,” she said. “Where were we going to spend our honeymoon?”
“Inside an asteroid.”
“With who?” she prompted.
“The spider alien collective,” he said with a sigh.
“And what is Vesuvius?”
“A talking lava lamp only the two of us can hear,” Fin admitted.
“If you can accept all of that, plus wage mental warfare with Kyle, I think you should be open to the possibility that what Brad said is true.”
“Maybe.”
“And I think you should call your mom.”
“I think you should call yours,” Fin retorted.
She looked at him for a full minute, staring into his eyes. “If you call your mom on her birthday, I’ll tell mine I got married, and endure the endless lectures.”
“Deal,” Fin said, and closed his eyes.
*** *** ***
After checking both direction signs, Rook turned a corner with her book cart. Buckminster’s library was the size of a shopping mall, and she hadn’t yet learned all the passageways.
The stacks could be particularly disorienting because it all looked the same, endless rows of dull green metal shelves stuffed with endless rows of books.
Only one book remained on her cart, and if she could find the place it belonged her job would be complete.
The book’s title was Dividends, a Manual for Maximizing Returns. Checking the catalog number on its green leather spine, Rook saw it belonged under Religion and Philosophy. She looked at the back cover, and saw a picture of a spinning coin. A hologram, she thought. It spun even when she held the book still.
Laying the volume back on the cart, Rook noticed the title was actually A Divided Man Returns.
She pushed her cart down a long, institutional-green corridor. There were no bookshelves, just closed doors at regular intervals. Outside the next one was a gurney, its occupant covered with a sheet. Rook pulled back the sheet to reveal a row of books, held in position by mismatched bookends. One looked like a head, the other a pair of bare feet. One toe had a bookmark tied to it.
This was the Science and Technology gurney, so her book didn’t belong there.
She kept walking down the endless green hallway, occasionally entering a room to see what types of books belonged on the beds. She found Psychology, History, every conceivable genre of fiction, Hypnosis, Ballet, and Human Sexuality. She found dozens of other topics, but not the one she needed.
Every few minutes an echoey female voice made announcements in an uninflected, businesslike tone.
“An unknowing angel with shadowed wings shall heal the divided man and restore light upon the Earth.”
“Those who go forth in chains shall be called into the firmament, but fall and be minions of the pretender.”
Rook couldn’t make sense of the messages, although the words carried an odd familiarity.
One door stood open along the right side of the corridor. Rook parked her cart and took the book inside with her. The room smelled strongly of Good & Plenty candy. Kyle lay in the bed, with various tubes and wires attached to him. Rook pulled aside his sheet, and smiled. Religion and Philosophy, at last. The slot for this book was right in the middle, so she slid it into place.
Kyle’s green eyes opened.
Rook jerked awake and sat up, gasping for air.
***
The spiders withdrew, congratulating themselves for coaxing Rook to symbolically Complete Kyle, performing in her dream the task they wished her to accomplish while awake.
Controlling the title of the book took two attempts, but she’d accepted most of the other details easily. Also pleasing was the way she woke at the critical moment, all but guaranteeing she would remember the dream.
Future augmentations of the Completer’s dreams would be calculated to produce a jolt of panic or other strong emotional signal, something potent enough to jar her awake. Kyle himself seemed a promising device. Her complicated and powerful feelings about him would serve to make the dreams memorable.
They must be sure to exploit that. It would hasten Kyle’s return, speeding fulfillment of the prophecy. What ecstasy it would give the human race, when all minds were one!
*** *** ***
“I would like some clean clothes,” Melissa said, trying not to slur. Her diet had expanded, but white wine was still the staple.
“I assume you have some at home?” Severin said.
Melissa ground her teeth, but tried to smile. “My husband probably got rid of them like he got rid of me. I’d like to buy something new.”
“You can borrow one of the vans. The keys are on a hook in the garage.” He spoke like they’d been doing this for years. “Have fun, and buy something pretty. You deserve it.”
A cauldron of hatred hissed and spat in Melissa’s mind. His guileless facade was twice as infuriating as the smirk he usually wore when speaking to her.
“I’m drunk,” she said. “I can’t drive like this.” Let him refute that.
“I see your point.”
He crossed the attic to an old steamer trunk. Melissa stumbled after. Severin lifted out a pea green cardigan and handed it to her.
“This was Gale’s, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind her daughter wearing it.”
“Can I shower?”
Severin led her down to one of the bathrooms on the third floor.
When Melissa finished drying herself she found the sweater only. Her undergarments were gone along with her s
hoes and the rest of her clothes.
Seeing little alternative, she slipped the sweater over her head. At least it smelled clean. It was boxy, had a low V-neck, and fell to mid-thigh. Melissa felt exposed.
He’s not going to get away with this.
She would get real clothes. She would teach him she was not his prisoner.
She was, of course, because she remained dependent on him. The slime of insistent, distracting minutiae would coat her world the moment she set off. He understood that, and taunted her with empty promises to help master this ‘power.’ Meanwhile, he often departed the premises without warning.
Like yesterday.
She had been at the kitchen window as the van pulled away, its repugnant green color suddenly advising her how many people worldwide were killed by jellyfish annually. Everything around her vomited up meaningless statistics, the patterns making up for lost time. One of her uncle’s toadies said, “It’s part of the Mersenne series,” which meant nothing to Melissa but did provide crucial insights into the average diameter of coconuts, with and without the husk. She fled upstairs to be alone with her wine and her damnable visions until Severin’s return.
He was a manipulative son of a bitch, smug and sure he had control. It would feel good to give him some doubts.
Melissa exited the bathroom. Severin stood a few doors away, looking into a room full of computers.
“Where are my clothes?” she demanded.
“In the laundry,” he said. “You look much better in this.” He reached out with his stump and stroked her exposed collarbone.
“I need to use the phone.”
“There’s one in the kitchen.” He started down the grand central staircase. Melissa followed, wishing she weren’t barefoot.
Severin indicated the wall phone, then went to the refrigerator. Three men wearing green sweaters like hers sat at one of the large tables, drinking coffee and talking over some papers.
Melissa picked up the phone, then wondered who she planned to call. There was no point in calling the police. No crime had been committed. There was Brad, of course, but that was a ridiculous idea. What could she possibly say? Yes, you sold me to the freak show, but since I was going to kill you let’s call it even. Come pick me up.
Severin looked over his shoulder at her, so she hastily dialed the bank. Listening to her voice mail would help her feel like she still had a life.
The first message was from Brad, almost a week old, telling her Kyle was hospitalized. Melissa gripped the phone and replayed the message. What had happened to her son? Brad’s message gave no clues. She listened to the rest, deleting those from coworkers immediately, hoping for more information about Kyle. Finally, a message from a Dr Peabody.
“Mrs Tanner, your ex-husband said you could be reached at this number and has asked that I pass along information about your son Kyle.”
‘Ex’-husband? Was that what Brad called himself, or was the doctor assuming?
A second message from Dr Peabody told her they transferred Kyle to Webster General and she should direct any questions there.
Melissa was shaking as she hung up. Kyle was in a coma. He might never wake up.
He could never leave her.
Unlike that bastard, Brad.
Secret knowledge that she could escape Severin and not drown in trivial misery gave Melissa hope. It would be awkward to rely on someone bedridden. If she could learn to master her dark talent it would be better. She could be free.
Melissa smiled. Kyle wasn’t going anywhere. She could get him if she needed him, if things with Severin became too unbearable.
Buoyed by her decision, Melissa poured herself an aromatic mug of coffee and was looking over a tray of store-bought pastries when Severin approached. He stood behind her and ran his hand up her thigh, under her sweater.
“Uncle, stop,” she said, stressing the first word.
The three men at the table looked up.
Severin moved in front of her and pulled her in for a deep kiss. When he let her go he said, “This is Melissa. She lives here now. Melissa, meet Horn, Leaf, and Free. They’re on the second floor.”
He selected a cheese danish and left the room.
Melissa had no choice but to follow, cheeks glowing with humiliation.
CHAPTER FIVE
SECRET DREAM JOURNAL
Setting: inside Vesuvius - red and golden
Fin is there. It’s terribly hot. We get naked and start to fuck on a lava bubble. Vesuvius turns into an hourglass and the lava pours down into the bottom, along with me. Down here the lava is glow-in-the-dark green. Kyle is waiting for me. He wants my help with something. We fuck on another bubble while he tries to tell me what he needs me to do, but he can’t because we’re kissing too much.
Rook Tanner’s dream journal
Willow Charm leaned against the padded headboard of the hotel bed. “So how old am I anyway? I feel like I’m turning 34 today. But Fin’s 25 years old, so I shouldn’t tell people I’m 34.” Brad handed over their wriggling daughter and sat beside her. “On the other hand, I don’t love the idea of suddenly being 46.”
“You look great for 46.” Brad winked.
“But I don’t look great for 34?”
“You look great, period. And quit complaining about being 46. I’m 51, for crissakes. You’re making me feel like an old man.”
“You look great for 51,” Willow teased. “The gray is distinguished.”
“Distinguished? Oh, the kiss of death.”
Stroking Zen’s wispy brown hair as she nursed, Willow started to nod off, leaning on Brad’s shoulder. It was funny that she needed any rest after being asleep for twelve years, but her mind used the downtime to process the strange information she learned from the bubbles of light.
The phone on the nightstand rang, jolting Willow awake. Brad reached across, but Willow got it first.
“Hello?” she mumbled.
“Happy birthday, Mom.” Fin sounded older.
“Thanks Fin.” Tears stung her eyes. “I’m so, so happy you called. This is the best birthday present I’ve gotten in at least twelve years.”
He sort of chuckled.
Brad eased Zen out of Willow’s arm and laid her in the bassinet.
“I missed you, Mom.” He sounded so sad.
“Fin, listen to me. I love you.”
“But you didn’t miss me. You won’t say you missed me. Brad wouldn’t say it either.”
“For me it’s only been a few days since I dropped you off with Ember and Beacon. It’s so zen. It doesn’t feel like I’ve been away long enough to miss you. But when I saw you, and you’re all grown up, I know that I missed so much of your life. That kills me. I would never have chosen to be away from you.”
Fin sniffled.
“I want to get to know who you are now,” she said.
“I’m still Fin.”
Still the same uncommunicative kid. “I know. Your name is Fin Chester Tanner,” she said, quoting a favorite saying from his childhood.
“But you can call me Fin and I’ll still know who you’re talking to,” he finished, sounding less glum.
Wanting to help improve his mood, she asked, “So you’re in a band?”
“I was.” He coughed. “We broke up. Our equipment sort of blew up.”
That was alarming. “Was it at the magazine you work for?”
He paused. “Different explosion.”
“I’m going to sound like a worried mother now, Fin—”
“That’s okay. I missed out on that.”
“I want you to stay away from explosions from now on, young man.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Willow smiled. He was still her boy.
“Is the magazine still publishing?”
“I think so, but I don’t work there anymore.”
Brad hadn’t told her that. “What are you doing now?”
“I have a freelance assignment.” He sounded evasive.
“I used to freel
ance.” For her it was only a week ago, but for him it was half a lifetime. “Do you remember?”
“Yeah.”
Willow wished Fin would ask some questions, hold up his end of the conversation. He hadn’t even mentioned his new sister.
“We’re looking at a house tomorrow,” she said. “It’s a foreclosure Brad learned about from the bank. If we like it we’d be able to move in right away.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll be sure to get you the address and phone number.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have a number for Beacon and Em? I’d like to let them know I’m back.”
“I think I have their address upstairs. It might take me a while to find it.”
“Could you look for it for me? Not right now.”
“Yeah. Okay. They’d be happy to hear you’re okay.”
*** *** ***
Hearing his mother’s voice made Fin feel like a kid — stupid and vulnerable. It had always been impossible to think she was never coming back, but now he saw that deep down he’d believed her dead. How differently would he have led his life if he’d known he’d one day need to tell her about it?
Rook joined him on the couch, her big gray sweater sliding off one shoulder, exposing the feather inked on her collarbone. She tucked her bare legs under herself and smoothed her black velvet miniskirt.
“It’s so zen,” Mom said, repeating her stock phrase. How had he forgotten she said that all the time? He laid his palm on the Japanese willow tree tattooed over his heart. “I can’t believe you’re married. In my mind you’re still 13.”
Fin switched the phone to his left ear and said, “Well, I’m not.”
“You’re not married? But I thought—”
“I’m not 13.”
She continued in a hurt voice, “How long have you been married? Brad didn’t even know.”
Fin wished she’d quit mentioning Brad. Rook smiled encouragingly.
“It’s been about a month. October 13th.”
Rook’s smile widened when she realized what he was talking about.
“You’re newlyweds,” Mom said. “That’s so sweet. It must have been a whirlwind courtship, because Brad didn’t even know you had a girlfriend.”