Ren Series Boxed Set (Book 1 - 4)

by Sarah Noffke

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It’s rustling that awakens me. A small sound, but sharp in my head, like brittle leaves underfoot on an autumn day. She’s a blur but I still catch Adelaide as she throws something on the side table next to me and darts for her room. Like a sloth I push up from my slouched position, everything turning sideways in my vision before righting itself. I twist my head to the side table and my brain overheats at once.

  “Adelaide,” I bark once, loud enough it makes my head feel like it’s being put through a sieve.

  “Huh?” I hear from her doorway.

  “Don’t fucking ‘huh’ me,” I say, my own voice making my sleep-hungover head burn with pain.

  She materializes as first a wavy figure and then a solid girl. I bloody hate having emotions. They mess with my head in the worst ways.

  “Do you know what I did to the last person who went through my shit?” I say.

  “Let me guess, you can’t bring them forward to tell me because they’re dead,” she says, crossing her arms in front of her and giving me a snobbish glare.

  I narrow my eyes at the girl who is too clever for her own good. “Would you like to join them in the afterlife?” I say.

  “Depends on the day,” she says, a real melancholy in her voice. She looks pale. Those dark bags always under her eyes look worse. How hadn’t I noticed that until now?

  “Why were you peeping into my files?” I say, pointing to the classified folder that sits half open on my side table.

  “Because,” Adelaide says, throwing herself down on the rug in front of the half burnt out fire. She ties her legs together, sitting tailor style.

  “Because is not an answer, it’s the beginning to an answer,” I say, rolling my eyes at her, which also makes my head hurt.

  “Because you keep me in the dark and I’m tired of it. You took me in, but you keep me out,” she says, her face suddenly angry.

  “Oh, how very poetic of you. Entertain me more with your clever phrases,” I say through a yawn.

  She narrows her green eyes at me. Shakes her head. “You introduced me to your pops but refuse to talk about your mum, who you obviously loved a great deal. And I realize after hearing your chat with Dahlia that you love what you do too. But you won’t tell me a bloody thing. It’s not fair.”

  “Don’t tell me about fair,” I say, my voice neutral. “People who complain about fairness—”

  “I’m half your blood and DNA,” she says, cutting me off. She’s worked up I realize now. “And I expect that it means nothing to you that I’m your daughter. But to me, to finally have the opportunity to know my father means something. I don’t idolize you or anything. Hell, half my life I despised you for abandoning me and cursing me with what I thought was mental problems. And currently you madden me more than I thought possible. But I still want a chance to understand you, don’t you get that?”

  I don’t respond and a whole minute goes by. It’s a minute full of our frustrated stares and her nervous fidgeting. Finally she says, “I get that you prefer to keep people at a distance. I’m not asking for that to change. I’m just curious about who you are and what you do. You’d feel the same if the opportunity was stolen from you to know your parents.”

  “I can’t say how I’d feel in your situation. No one can speak from a place of unknowing,” I say, realizing I’m dodging.

  “No, because it appears you had two accepting and loving parents,” she says, her words slow and full of a long harbored resentment.

  “I did. Sue me,” I say plainly.

  She pins her hands on the ground behind her and leans back. “You’re an agent. Tell me about that.”

  Adelaide is relentless. I simultaneously want to squash that out of her and also help her preserve that characteristic. I purse my lips at her and make an impromptu decision which I’ll probably regret. “I’m a fixer.”

  “What does that mean? You go and fix things, like FEMA does?” she says.

  “Bloody no. I don’t wait around like those jerks until things happen. They clean shit up. I fix things before they happen,” I say.

  She leans forward, looking suddenly perplexed and intrigued. “How do you do that?”

  “News reports,” I say with a bored sigh. “I receive reports from a department full of clairvoyants who see future tragic events. They see other types of events too, but my responsibility is to work on bad cases.”

  “Level five? That’s what Dahlia called them. She doesn’t want you working those kinds of cases. They’re really dangerous, that’s why, right? ” she says.

  I grind my teeth together, mostly angry that the mention of her name affects me. “We aren’t talking about her,” I say simply.

  Adelaide holds up her hands in surrender. “Sure, whatever. Just keep talking.”

  “I was assigned a level five case,” I say, indicating the file.

  “It said you failed. That the lady, Blocker, abducted the man, Person G,” Adelaide says.

  “My memory is still intact and therefore I don’t need you reminding me of all of that,” I say, my voice aching for some reason.

  Adelaide eyes me as she knits her hands into her oversized shirt sleeves. “You’re not used to failure, are you?”

  “No, maybe you can tell me how to deal with it,” I say.

  A solid laugh bursts from her mouth and the action shifts her usually melancholy face, seeming to give it color.

  “Why was that funny?” I say, feigning confusion.

  “So the report says that you suspect that Blocker is recruiting an army of assassins.”

  I nod, steepling my hands in front of my face and looking down at the girl.

  “And it also said there were still investigations surrounding the persons abducted connected to Person C and Person G.”

  “Sophie and James,” I say, disbelieving I’m actually giving her information.

  “Right. So you’re still investigating why James’s friend and Sophie’s sister’s abductions weren’t forecasted by the news reporters,” she says.

  “Yes, we suspect that Blocker can shield those events somehow,” I begin. “And I’m thinking that maybe Blocker can’t entirely shield the events from news reporters where she abducts the person she plans to use as a weapon. However, I’m not certain why. Currently, with my brain on fire, none of this makes much sense.”

  She huffs with a half laugh. “Because she’s there,” Adelaide says, a great deal of confidence in her tone.

  “What did you just say?”

  “Blocker can’t entirely shield events that’s she’s a part of,” she says.

  I turn my head to the side, struck by this seemingly simple idea. “Go on,” I say.

  “Well, if one of her skills is to block psychic energy then she’d have no trouble doing that with events where she’s not directly involved. But I read something one time about psychic energy. Specifically it was about the conservation of energy and how it can be transferred but never created or destroyed. So if that’s true then that means Blocker is diverting it. And I’ve also heard that psychic energy of certain types can be absorbed remotely but that same energy will always set off a flare when in the presence of a reflector.” She says all this slowly, like pulling up an almost forgotten memory.

  “Where did you hear all this or read it or whatever?” I say, my adrenaline spiking.

  She shrugs, her eyebrows crinkling together. “I can’t remember. Maybe I didn’t and it’s just a piece of archetype information I’m pulling from the subconscious mind, like Jung talks about,” she says with a chuckle like she only half believes what she said. But I believe it all. More importantly, I know she’s onto something.

  Suddenly I’m overwhelmed by a rush. I bolt to a standing position as an idea springs to my mind. “Collected Works of C.G. Jung. That’s it,” I say.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Adelaide says. “I’ve read parts of that. There’s a lot about psychic energy in his books.”

  I’m at my bookshelf, sca
nning for the right book in seconds. “She’s not a blocker at all. She’s reflecting. Of course,” I say, my voice a hush as it all fits together.

  “Huh?”

  I turn and glare at Adelaide, who has pushed to a standing position. “Take that word out of your vocabulary. It isn’t a word at all actually, but rather a sound uncivilized apes make.”

  “Aw, and here I thought you didn’t know me at all,” she says.

  I turn back to the bookcase and pull volume five, Psychology and Alchemy, from the shelf. It’s not going to detail my theory precisely, but it will give me the inspiration to decipher this. I’m sure of that. I flip through the pages until I find a passage that catches my attention.

  My eyes suck in the words at once. Jung wrote, “In seeking to explore it he projected the unconscious into the darkness of matter in order to illuminate it.” I look up from the pages, my mind spinning, trying to catch a thread I can pull out to unravel this more completely.

  “I don’t know what this kidnapper’s other skill is,” I begin, half talking to myself, “but it might have something to do with this. Because in light of this new information, I don’t think she’s blocking these events from us at all. She’s reflecting the energy. That’s why we can’t see the visions of the other people she’s having abducted. But we do see the events where she’s there because a reflector can’t reflect off of themselves. Not entirely anyway.”

  “So how does this work?” Adelaide says.

  I flip to another section, my instinct leading the way. “Listen to this,” I say, unprepared to answer her questions. “‘I am therefore inclined to assume that the real root of alchemy is to be sought less in philosophical doctrines than in the projections of individual investigators. I mean by this that while working on his chemical experiments the operator had certain psychic experiences which appeared to him as the particular behavior of the chemical process,’” I say, reading from the textbook.

  “What does that all mean? This is kind of mind-boggling,” Adelaide says.

  I nod, having no choice but to agree. “It means that I suspect she’s reflecting off an element. That would be the only way.”

  “What? That’s possible?” she says.

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” I say, staring down at the page, but not seeing words. “And I suspect she must have a clairvoyant aspect to her skills. That would allow her to take the events she doesn’t want the news reporters to forecast and reflect so much energy on them that they aren’t something we can see. She’s transferring it,” I say, my mind sifting through the possibilities.

  “Like when you blind someone with a mirror and light?” Adelaide says, sounding lost in thought as well.

  “Exactly,” I say, thumbing through the book.

  “Well, although that’s highly interesting, how does it help you with the case to know those specifics?” she says.

  I snap the book shut, having found exactly what I needed. “Because firstly, it’s important to know everything about the people you’re working to stop. And, secondly, now that I know how she does it, I can stop her from blinding our clairvoyants,” I say, confidence filling my recently thundering head.

  “How? How are you going to blind her?”

  “I’m going to break her fucking mirror,” I say.

  “How are you going to do that?” she asks.

  I grimace. “Technology,” I say, making for my bedroom. I have work to do.

  “Oh, and another thing,” Adelaide says at my back.

  I turn and regard her with an impatient stare.

  “The file said that her reasons for abducting the people connected to the potential weapons wasn’t clear,” Adelaide says.

  “Right,” I chirp, my feet antsy to move. “There isn’t a common thread to me. Some are Middlings. Some kids. No real powers that she can employ.”

  “But in all cases it’s the person that is closest to the weapon,” she says, an expectant look on her face.

  “Yes,” I say, drawing out the word.

  “Well…” Adelaide says with a conceited tone.

  “Well what?” I say.

  “Well, if you wanted me to do something and ensure I did it properly then you’d have to have something to motivate me. Like steal my best friend and threaten to kill them if I didn’t comply,” she says in a rush, like it’s streaming easily out of her brain. “I bet you anything that in that first case, where the two women died, the one taken as an assassin was unwilling to comply.”

  “So Blocker killed them both,” I say, my eyes unfocused as this all pieces together.

  “Yeah, that makes sense to me. And then Blocker has proven that she’s not messing around, which earned her compliance when she abducted the next pair,” Adelaide says.

  I blink at her, struck by how simple an idea that is and yet never occurred. How is that possible? I think of everything. “Right, good point,” I finally say.

  “Excellent point, I’d say,” she says proudly, tying her arms in front of her chest.

  “Well, I guess no one’s getting your compliance,” I say.

  “Oh, because I don’t have any best friends,” she says, not hurt by my remark but rather looking amused.

  “Exactly,” I say.

  “Oh, I don’t know, they could take you,” she says with a devilish grin.

  I give her a repulsed look and then turn. “Well, I’m going to go be sick now. Thank you very much,” I say and leave.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “What you’re saying doesn’t make sense,” Aiden, the daft scientist, says, pushing up his ridiculous oversized black glasses on his face.

  “It makes flawless sense. Don’t point fingers at me for your inability to understand elementary concepts,” I say.

  A laugh bursts out of his mouth. He’s always doing that. Laughing. Like he’s got a bloody condition where everything triggers him to open his dumb mouth and allow that repugnant sound to fall out.

  “A person can’t block the presence of psychic energy, only reflect it? Are you sure this isn’t a case of semantics?” he says.

  “No, it’s not bloody semantics,” I growl. “Since you obviously know nothing about theory then I’m not sure why you’d comprehend the specifics of what we’re dealing with.”

  Another dumb laugh. “I have a Ph.D. in quantum physics. I think I can wrap my mind around a few theories.”

  “I have a Ph.D.,” I say in a mocking voice. “Then fine, listen up, Mr. Smarty-Pants. If we were up against an actual blocker, which I’ve never ever heard of, then we would be powerless to stop them. They would shield the energy. End of story. But this gal we’re dealing with, she’s not blocking the events. In essence, she’s reflecting onto the events and that’s why we can’t see them. I hope you’re following me when I say ‘in essence.’ I mean metaphorically speaking. As in not really, but this is how I’m attempting to explain it in a symbolic manner. Got me, monkey boy?”

  He nods profusely at me and waves his hand. “Yeah, I’m following. Go on,” Aiden says impatiently.

  I smile inside a little as I sense his frustration. “Well, as I was saying, our villain is shining something on the events so they’re impossible to see. And the reason we are getting glimpses of the ones we do see is because she’s there.”

  “And you can’t completely reflect off something if you’re in it,” he says, half to himself, his tone excited.

  “Now you’re getting it, chimp,” I say.

  He scratches his head, his long brow crinkling. “Maybe I’m getting it. Sort of. But I’m not sure I really understand how you think this woman is doing this reflecting.”

  “Probably not a woman. Probably a demon in a tight dress and sexy shoes. But here’s what I found,” I say, thumping the book on his countertop. “In here there’s a case where a subject could direct their mental prowess at an element and stop psychic energy,” I say.

  “Wait, so you think that she’s not shielding the event from being seen?”


  “No, she’s stopping Roya specifically from seeing them. She’s a reflector. She’s the light, that’s her power anyway, and when she directs it at an element then it reflects, creating a blinding force,” I say.

  “Stopping a clairvoyant from being able to see? That’s her power?” he says, sounding mostly confused, but also a little excited.

  “Bingo bango, dumbass,” I say in a bored voice. “Actually I think she could direct the energy a lot of ways, but this is the choice the vixen has made.”

  “Right,” Aiden says, scratching his head, still looking confused. “So then if she’s the light, what’s the mirror she’s using?”

  “Ahhh, yes. That’s where my friend alchemy comes in,” I say.

  “I didn’t know you two were friends,” Aiden says with a stupid laugh.

  “Shut up,” I say dryly. “Now pause briefly from shutting up to tell me something. Does Roya always report from the Institute?”

  “Of course. She’s hardly ever away from here for any reason,” he says.

  “Well, to reflect off something one would need the proper surface. A shiny element,” I say, holding up a hand and angling it at the walls. Aiden’s eyes fly to where I’m indicating and then pop open wider. Then his gaze darts to the metal walls all around us. The ones that surround everyone everywhere no matter where they are in the Institute. Metal is what the Institute is comprised of.