Mortal Sight

by Sandra Fernandez Rhoads

  “Harper.” Maddox reaches for the microphone, but Harper pulls away.

  She continues mocking me. “Failing . . . Falling. Life now ending.”

  My hands shake, spreading the tremble throughout my body. Images of Jess dying on the concrete flash across my mind. My eyes well with tears. Keep it together, Cera.

  Harper raises one eyebrow. “That’s a little morbid.” Laughter rolls through the audience.

  She holds up one finger, silencing the crowd, before reading the last line. “Burning in the flames.” Harper lowers the paper. “Sounds cryptic. Something you want to share?”

  “That’s enough.” Maddox grabs the microphone away from Harper.

  I can barely hear the nervous laughter rippling through the café over the thrumming pulse inside my head. I feel slammed, smashed to pieces without enough oxygen in the room to fill my lungs and scream.

  Maddox’s voice is sharp. “Amide, play your new song.” Maddox covers his hand over the microphone and says something to Harper that makes her frown. He pulls her offstage, but it’s too late.

  I loathe her. I hate her to the core. She mocks my pain, taking words that weren’t meant to see the light of day and tossing them around like cheap Mardi Gras beads trampled by a drunken crowd.

  Devon touches my shoulder. Before he can smother me with words of comfort, or apology, or whatever is about to spew from his mouth, I push through the crowd. I need air. I need to be alone. To run. Scream.

  I shove open the kitchen door and, in a blur, race past someone prepping plates. I head straight for the sink behind the wall, splash cold water on my face, and grip the edge of the metal sink. I need to go down to the cellar, punch something, and calm down.

  Footsteps tap across the stone tiles behind me. I glance over my shoulder to find Kellan, holding a paper plate piled with more food than any human could eat in one sitting.

  “I saved a table.” He holds out the plate and looks me over. “You all good?”

  “Kellan?” Claire’s thick slap of combat boots pounds the stairs from the cellar. She rushes into the kitchen and stops short of plowing into him. Out of breath, she pants, “Legions are moving closer. We did a quick scan from the roof and counted five.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

  Kellan sets the plate on the counter. “Are they passin’?”

  Her eyes are panicked. “They’re hovering. Searching.”

  I force a swallow over the desert sand coating my throat.

  “They know we’re here.” Kellan immediately straightens to his full height. “Keep everyone inside. I’ll get Council to take ’em down from the outside. We can’t slay five at once. Not till we’re trained.”

  Claire’s face turns ashen. “At least five. There could be more.”

  Kellan rubs a hand over his head. “Cera, guard the back door. Don’t let anyone go outside.” He takes off, headed back into the café with Claire at his heels.

  They may be after all of us, but I know for certain those beasts are hunting me. They must have sensed I was around when I stepped outside for that brief moment with Devon. Every minute I stay behind these walls is more time for them to grow closer. I know what I have to do. I abandon the sink and search the kitchen for the largest knife I can find—the butcher knife will do. At least, I hope it will.

  My heart races. I rush down and into the workout room and fumble in the dark to grab a jacket from the pile. I grip the knife and slip back out into the hall. Even if Council arrives to save the day, more Legions will come. Maddox said they’d do anything to get hold of a Seer.

  Being here is the problem. Leading the creatures away is the solution. Maybe if I can somehow get back on the train, they’ll fall back. Finding Mom might be an option. She’s kept me hidden for the past ten years. She’ll know what to do. But I forgot, Gladys, and who knows who else, is with her.

  I zip up the jacket. I can’t put anyone in danger. I’ve got to head out that door on my own. Maybe I’ll run back to Mark, see if I can take that job. Hide out. My head spins with bad possibilities. I don’t know where I’ll go; I only know I need to leave. Milton’s quiet voice affirms my choice. “Let us descend now . . . for the hour precise / Exacts our parting hence . . . We may no longer stay.” Agreed, Milton. You brought me here. You’ll lead me to where I need to go. I know that now, and I trust you.

  “Cera?” Maddox calls my name from the top of the steps.

  “Is she down there?” Devon’s voice is tight and is followed by Harper’s whine.

  “Couldn’t this wait until after we finished the set?”

  I quietly turn the handle and open the metal door enough to slide through sideways. The last thing I need is any of them derailing my plan—or worse, following me outside.

  I gasp as the frigid air slaps me across the face. I shut the door quietly behind me and go up the concrete steps to the street. One hand is tucked in my coat pocket, the other clutches the butcher knife. I walk at a brisk pace, leaning close to the brick buildings to block the biting wind. My feet twitch, wanting to bust into a full-blown sprint, but I can’t run just yet. I need the creatures to sense I’m around. Once they do, then I’ll run.

  A faint smell of sulfur tinges the air. They’re not close, but they’re around. But then again, the whipping wind could be messing with the strength of the scent. I turn the corner and head down the block. As the wind blows, the sulfur stench grows stronger. My insides tighten. I’m getting close to one. I just have to wait to hear the buzzing sound. I grip the knife tighter. This time I’ve got the right weapon. Maybe I can tackle the creature head-on before jumping on the train. I can avenge Jess. Except that Claire said there were at least five in the area. There’s no way I could take down more than one—if that.

  Shadows stain the streets but it’s impossible to make out any black mist in the inky dark. I perk my ears for any buzzing sounds, but instead, heavy footsteps grind into the concrete. Someone is tracking behind me.

  “Cera?” Maddox grips my elbow from behind. His face is stern in the pale light. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

  “And neither should you.” I jerk my arm away. “Get back inside. Claire said at least five Legions are swarming and growing closer. It’s because of me.” Maddox glances at the weapon in my hand as the streetlight dances on the blade. He raises a questioning eyebrow.

  Now Devon turns the corner, ushering Harper along. Great. What is this, a convention? So much for stealth. “There she is. Tell her.” Devon releases Harper, sending her my way.

  She stumbles but stops right in front of me. “That was totally uncool of me, sorry.” She shrugs one shoulder and then turns to Devon. “There, I said it. Can we go back now?” She rubs her arms and bounces on her toes. “It’s freezing out here.”

  “Legions are in the area.” Maddox’s voice and body are tight.

  Devon’s face goes rigid. “Everyone back inside. We’ll put the place in lockdown.”

  Fear masks Harper’s face as she rushes to Maddox’s side and clings to his arm. “Take me back right now.”

  Devon puts a hand on my back, urging me back to Hesperian and closer to the shelter of a building. “We’ll keep everyone inside until they pass.”

  I sidestep him. “Claire just reported that they’re not passing. They’re searching.” I glance at Maddox, who is looking at the sky. “I’m not going back to Hesperian. I got what I came for.”

  “Cera, you’re not a Blade.” Devon towers over me. He holds out his hand, asking for the knife. “Council won’t issue you—”

  “I don’t care about Council, don’t you get that?” I step back, keeping the weapon away from him. “There’s only one thing I want, and that’s to destroy every single beast that could ever possibly hurt anyone ever again. But it’s something I’ve got to do on my own.” I look everywhere but at Maddox.

  “You can’t do it alone,” Maddox says, his urgent voice rising. “You need training. Weapons.”

  Devon holds h
is hand out. “Calm down. We’ll work this out, but right now, we need to get everyone back inside.”

  A frigid wind rocks me back on my heels. My fingers clench. Pain coils through my back.

  No! No. Not now. The unwelcome but familiar burning creeps down my spine.

  Maddox reaches out to me. “Cera?”

  The pain has sucked all the air from my lungs. I can’t speak. I can’t move my feet. All I can do is reach out and find rough brick before slumping my shoulder against the cold building. My fist unfurls. The knife slips from my fingers, clanking on the concrete. Another wave of fiery pain drives down my back. I double over and cry out.

  Harper gasps. “Is she having a—”

  “Cera!” Devon shouts.

  I lift my chin. Hair hangs in my face, but even through the dark, my gaze finds Maddox. I’m so sorry. Out here, in the open, with Legions around. They’ll intercept the vision . . . Pain kicks me in the back. I’ve ruined everything—again. My knees buckle. Before I hit the ground, Maddox grabs hold to keep me upright.

  The last thing I hear as the world spins black is Devon yelling, “Take her to Apartment C. Now!”

  I shut my eyes tight against the bitter wind, and my head bounces against Maddox’s shoulder as he runs. His ocean scent, magnified by the heat radiating from his body, is all I breathe. Binding pain roils inside me, and the pressure of an angry fist grips my spine. Deep. Relentless squeezing. I bury my face into Maddox’s jacket. The denim is rough against my wet cheek. I wrestle a scream back down my throat.

  “Hang in there, I’ve got you. Just another block, and we’re there.” Maddox’s voice rumbles in his chest. His breath is labored, heavy.

  After a while longer, Maddox slows. “Get the door!” he shouts to someone. Warm air stings my face. Rhythmic footsteps slap against echoing metal. Stairs. His arms hold me tighter. “We’re almost there.”

  Keys jingle. Another door squeaks open.

  “Put her on the couch. I’ll get Pop,” Devon says as a door slams. Heated, dry air that smells of secondhand furniture and lemon oil engulfs me. “Pop?” Devon’s voice collides with a television blaring somewhere in the distant background.

  I’m lowered onto scratchy, musty fabric. Maddox’s arms slip out from under me. Exposing cold takes their place. A sharp pain seizes me, cinching my spine. I dig my face deep in the pillows of the prickly couch. Don’t scream. Fight the pain.

  “She’s a Seer?” Harper asks.

  Her voice is like a dagger through my head. Oh, please not her too . . .

  “Can you give her something to help the pain?” It’s Maddox.

  Another spasm wrenches down my back. I scream through the tears. I want Mom. I want to go home. I want to hide in my bed in the cool dark. Alone.

  “I’ve . . . I’ve never worked with a Seer.” Harper almost sounds concerned. “I . . . I don’t really know what’s happening.”

  My fingers find a lumpy blanket that holds traces of Devon’s earthy scent. I muster the strength to yank it over my head. Every syllable they speak, every knuckle crack, every step pacing the carpet amplifies through my throbbing skull.

  Another hit of fiery pain. I stifle this scream. The stuffy air under the blanket turns cool as someone lifts it from my face. Harper’s nails lightly rake across my skin, pulling a lock of sweaty hair from my cheek.

  “Don’t bite your tongue. Bite on this.” She presses a rough cloth against my chapped lips. I clamp them shut and sink my face deeper into a nearby pillow. The rose-scented rag turns my stomach. I wish she’d back off and leave me alone. But I know better than to speak. The sound of my own voice echoing in my head is a million times worse than any other noise.

  Another twisting pain spikes, this one far worse than the others. I gasp. My insides feel as if they’re about to burst through my skin. Every vertebra feels crushed. I want to die . . . Please, let me die . . .

  Bile rises, burning my throat. Oh no. Not in front of . . . I cup the blanket against my mouth. My stomach heaves. Hot, yeasty vomit drips through the useless blanket, slopping between my fingers. I shake with uncontrolled tremors.

  “Here, let me help you.” Harper wipes up my chin and my hands. The blanket is tugged out from underneath me. Don’t cry. Don’t—

  Tingling fire snakes its way up my spine. My body tightens, every muscle petrified. I know what’s next: first the jamming pain of hot needles in the back of my blinded eyes, and then the vision. I grip a fistful of hair, squeezing my arms against my head as if this self-inflicted pain could somehow quell the agony. My arms shake.

  “Hang in there. Pop will know what to do.” Maddox’s voice is too soft, too sympathetic. When he strokes the back of my head, I fall apart. Completely lose it. I dig my face deeper into the musty cushions and cry. I beat the couch with my fists and the little strength that remains.

  “Give the girl space.” An old man’s terse whisper cracks through the air.

  Maddox removes his warm hand. “Is this . . . normal?”

  “Pop, this one’s a Seer,” Devon says from across the room. “We didn’t know. Thought she was a Guardian—”

  “Hush now. I don’t need no telling what she is. I know right well that every sound you make feels like you’re spittin’ hot nails into that skull of hers.”

  In between my snivels, I hear the uneven shuffle of slippered feet brush over the carpet. “Have some respect for the child and wait this out in silence.”

  A deafening quiet ripples through the room, except for the steady beat of a clock’s second hand. And even then, the ticking quivers. Pop might be some crotchety old man everyone at Hesperian avoids, but not me. I love him.

  After a long silence, when the throbbing behind my eyes ebbs into a faint pulse, I lift my head out from under a pillow. Coolness brushes over my heated cheeks. Even though I only see darkness, I can feel their stares burning into me from all directions.

  I sniffle, wiping my dribble with my sleeve and then pushing up to my elbows. It takes everything I have not to break out into tears when I smell bile.

  “Stop that whimpering.” Pop shuffles closer. “Now, listen close. When that vision comes, you let the boy see it.” As if on cue, the silver fog floods my sight. “Boy, go on and hold her hand. The transfer’ll be stronger that way.”

  “You want to harness her to . . . me?” Maddox’s voice sounds shaky.

  “Who else, boy? I know you’re right next to her, aren’t you?”

  Even though Harper cleaned my hands, I wipe them on the hem of my shirt. I manage to sit upright and set my feet on the floor. Maddox’s hand covers mine. When he curls his fingers into my palm, a tiny flitter whirls in my queasy stomach.

  Sounding satisfied, Pop continues with the instruction. “Now Honey, you go on ’n show the boy the vision.”

  Show him? An aftershock slashes across my back. I gasp. Maddox clutches my hand. Right when I think my fingers will crack under his hold, the fiery ache wanes, seeping out of my palm. Maddox groans. His grip slackens.

  “What’s wrong?” Harper’s shrill cry is not about me.

  “Hush yourself.” Pop shuffles even closer. Another torture session cuts through my spine. I squeeze the couch, ready to scream again, but surprisingly the pain subsides. A tiny pulse flows out from my palm. “Don’t be afraid. Go on. Let the boy see.”

  My mind clouds with silver fog like steam on a bathroom mirror. I know what these images mean. They’re not some hallucinating psychosis from a panic attack. The fragmented pictures forming in my mind foretell someone’s death. They always have. I sit rigid. A lumpy pillow digs into my back.

  “Don’t be holdin’ back.”

  I’m not sure what the old man means, but I exhale and do the only thing I know. I imagine Maddox next to me, the same way I first did with Mom when I was seven, both of us looking at the images together, as if put on display. Maddox’s arm presses against my shoulder. I lean against him. My hand trembles under the weight of his. When he gently squeezes my hand, I
take a deep breath, smelling fresh ocean air, and let Maddox see.

  A handheld lantern shines

  A ray of caramel light beams

  A narrow path illuminates through the dark

  I feel trapped. I’m choking. I have to run. Get away.

  “Don’t fight it, girl.” The old man’s voice sounds far away. “Accept what it’s givin’ you.” The image streaks across my mind like claws slicing through canvas.

  A yellow glass goblet, smothered in smoke

  The fragile spiral stem falls over, severing the bowl

  Greedy fingers grasp through the fog, lapping up violet liquid

  Bright, piercing white light

  A flash of red lightning

  Then everything turns red.

  Everything turns red. Blood. Someone died. My whole body convulses. I rip my hand away from Maddox. Something solid hits the carpet near my feet, landing with a hard thud.

  “Maddox?” Harper shrieks. “Maddox!” Her high-pitched cry hammers into the back of my eyes. “What did she do to him?”

  The wispy haze hijacks my sight. Blinded, I slide my fingers across the couch, searching for Maddox, only to find nothing but rough fabric.

  “Pop, what in the—what just happened?” Devon’s voice is strained. “Passing out like that . . . it’s not normal, is it?”

  “Hmph. Looks like he collapsed during the transfer, that’s all.” That’s all? How can Pop sound unconcerned, like it’s no big deal, that somehow what I saw knocked Maddox unconscious? “He’ll need strengthening for next time. I reckon he’ll be fine soon enough.”

  “But he’s not fine!” Harper panics.

  Voices fire from all directions. I press my heated palms over my ears and draw my knees to my chest.

  “Calm yourself, Rose.” Pop’s tone is soothing, especially compared to Harper’s. “You’ll do no one any good if you can’t think straight.”

  “You know her name is Harper,” Devon says wearily.

  “You call her what you want and so will I. Listen good, Rose. When the boy wakes, you give him a swig of that vine juice and he’ll be fine in a matter of minutes.”