Rook

by JC Andrijeski

  His thoughts turned ice cold.

  You cannot go home, Esteemed Bridge. Even without the Rooks. You cannot.

  He gestured sharply, a downward slash.

  ...It is over. It is over for you, this human life. Do you hear me, Esteemed One? Do not make the mistake of thinking you can go back. You cannot go back. Never, Allie.

  I stared up at him, fighting for words.

  His eyes continued to study mine, as if waiting for me to understand.

  You are already a criminal, he added. ...a violent one. If you are a seer, they will show you no mercy. Your life living among them is finished. It is absolutely imperative that you understand this. You cannot trust humans anymore. Any humans, Allie.

  Briefly, I saw a flicker of sympathy in his eyes.

  Feel whatever grief you need to feel about this, then let it go, he advised. Do it soon. It will save you much heartache later. Or worse, a life of slavery and torture like nothing you can imagine, Bridge Alyson.

  My jaw fell open. I continued to stare up at him.

  “The boy,” he said, exasperated. ...You threw him. Across the room.

  He made that odd clicking sound with his tongue, shaking his head.

  I could not believe it. I still do not believe it. They did not warn me you would be telekinetic!

  He sounded almost angry.

  Staring up at him, I clenched my fists, forcing my brain to work.

  Jon. He meant Jon.

  There’d been witnesses at the diner.

  They’d seen me throw Jon across the room. There would have been surveillance, like this guy said. They would assume it was some form of telekinesis. What else would explain what happened, since I hadn’t laid a hand on him?

  Telekinetic, christ. I’d never heard of a telekinetic seer before.

  Well, other than...

  I stared up at him, eyes wide.

  “Yes.” The man nodded grimly. You will be little Syrimne. Little female Syrimne and all the babies she could make. If SCARB finds you, your citizenship, even your sentience categorization will be revoked. That H mark you value so much...

  He motioned towards my racial-cat tattoo.

  ...It will be burned right off of your arm.

  His mouth formed a grim line as he waited for me to catch up.

  I couldn’t, though.

  I couldn’t get past the Syrimne thing.

  Syrimne was the bogey-man to most humans, even my own parents. In school, I’d seen all the old footage of him blowing up oil tankers and downing planes during World War I. He did all of it with his mind, sometimes from hundreds of miles away. It took an army to get him down, and more than half of them had been seers, too.

  The black-haired man’s clicking sound grew softer, and contained more sympathy again.

  We must leave here, Esteemed Bridge. Even your human brother understood this. He did not like it...but he understood. He let us go.

  I bit my tongue, hard enough to taste blood. The man in front of me looked to be about 6’6” or 6’7”, barefoot. I didn’t stand a chance against him.

  If he was telling the truth, I had nowhere to go anyway.

  I watched his eyes flicker over mine. A hint of emotion grew discernible in the dark. Then, out of nowhere, that weird nausea-pain feeling plumed off him in a cloud. It enveloped me, heating my skin, taking my breath. It brought my own nausea back, forcing a low gasp from my throat. I felt my cheeks warm, even as it hit me that the feeling was almost...

  Sexual.

  God. It was definitely sexual...or had a flavor of sex woven into it somehow. But it was different than an ordinary wanting of sex, too. Truthfully, it was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was a tangible pulling on some part of me, making me want to touch him.

  Before I could think, the man was beside me. His fingers circled my upper arms.

  I am here to help you. He hesitated, pulling me closer to where he stood. Trust me. Please...trust me. I won’t hurt you, Allie. I can get you out safely. I promise.

  I felt my throat close. “And that’s my only option?” I said. “To get out?”

  His fingers loosened.

  Yes, he sent, stepping back. His eyes watched mine with that unnerving scrutiny. “Your human family,” he began aloud, then switched to his mind. There might still be time to move them. If I can get in contact with my people, they might be able to—

  A flash lit the clearing.

  With it came a thwup-thwup sound, like staccato inhales of breath. The man beside me moved like liquid shadow.

  He shoved me, hard.

  Before I could put the different pieces together inside my mind, my feet had already separated from the ground. I flew through the air...

  ...and slammed, hard, into the trunk of a nearby redwood tree.

  My face smacked into rough bark. Pain sucked the air from my lungs, blinding me even as it blanked out my mind. I couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe as I crumpled in mud and pine needles. The pure shock and intensity of that pain both woke me up and stunned me in the same breath.

  Then I heard another series of shots.

  Thwup, thwup, thwup...

  I fought to rise, but my back lit up like a Christmas tree in an electrical fire. Spots flashed before my eyes as an odor like sulfur hit my mouth and nose. Gunfire. Not like I was an expert, but I’d heard gunshots before, living in a city.

  My fingers fought for purchase on the wet bark. I was in full-fledged panic mode now, but also in shock, a deer in headlights. I couldn’t figure out from which direction the shots had come.

  The man with the black hair was on the ground. I felt a sharp pain where he held his shoulder. I smelled blood and my panic worsened.

  I tried to stand, but another volley of shots peppered the clearing, bringing me swiftly back to my knees. That time, I knew from which direction the shots came at least. Whoever they were, the shooter was close now. Scrabbling on my hands and knees, I slid halfway around the base of the thick trunk, putting the tree between me and the gun.

  When I looked back at the clearing, the black-haired man was gone.

  He’d left me. Great.

  A crackle of branches being shoved aside caused me to turn back in the direction of the gun. I found myself face to face with the shooter, and recognized him at once. He still wore the same blue suit and blood red tie. Flipping aside a longer greatcoat, he extracted a fresh magazine from an inside pocket, and deftly replaced the one he let fall to the ground.

  He stared directly at me, his amber eyes reflecting light like a cat’s.

  “Interesting.” He snapped in the fresh magazine, chambered a round, and raised the gun so it pointed at my face. “Was he flirting with you just now?” Pausing, he grinned. “Please tell me, if so, for that is simply too delicious for words...”

  He began walking towards me when I didn’t answer.

  In seconds, he stood directly over me.

  Reacting belatedly, I pushed my body off the trunk with my palms and slipped, landing hard on my tailbone on a protruding root. I gasped, closing my eyes, bracing myself to be shot.

  I was in shock. My mind acknowledged this, as if from far away.

  In front of me, the man with the amber eyes fell to a crouch.

  When I opened my eyes, our gazes were nearly level.

  His amber colored eyes studied my face. I found myself looking back at him, unable to help myself from studying him in return. Reddish-brown hair framed his high cheekbones and a sensual mouth. As I continued to look at him, his eyes caught some unseen light, reflecting a glow that made them look distinctly inhuman to me.

  They didn’t glow like mine had, though.

  “Are you hurt, sister?” he said pleasantly.

  “Umm...no.” I fought to control my voice. “I’m okay. I think.”

  He smiled. “My deepest apologies for scaring you.” Unlike the black haired man, this one had no discernible accent beyond a bland American one. Even so, the construction of his sentences remained fore
ign-sounding to my ears somehow.

  Seer, I found myself thinking. He has to be another one.

  He gave me a faint smile. “This man,” he said then. He gestured towards the trees with the hand holding the gun. “He is a criminal, you see. He has been harassing you, yes? Following you? Am I mistaken in this?”

  When I remained silent, his mind prodded mine.

  “No,” I managed. “You are not mistaken.”

  “I am Terian.” He waited, as if expecting me to introduce myself next, as if we were at a cocktail party. Even as I thought it, he prompted, “...And you are? What? Another Sark, surely. Living among the worms, trying to pass. Succeeding too, or so it would seem. And Dehgoies felt obliged to out you, did he? Such a gentleman.”

  Terian chuckled, resting the gun on his thigh.

  “I’m sure you’ll be jumping into his bed at any moment for that favor,” he grinned. “Am I right?”

  His gaze sharpened above the smile then, flickering down my body.

  “So tell me. How old are you, sister?”

  I stared at his yellow eyes...

  …and dark clouds intervene.

  Briefly, his face shines with flickering, metallic lines. His eyes are yellow lamps in that other place, emitting cold, fast-moving, highly-structured silver light above the densely drawn lines that make up his body. Above his head in miniature rotates a Pyramid.

  The Pyramid is there...sharp, crystal clear in the space.

  Then, it is gone.

  ...and I lay crumpled on water-drenched ground in Golden Gate Park, my head throbbing with a dull pain. Rain dripped down from the trees, making me blink, sparkling on the black coat the man wore, contrasting the yellow of his eyes.

  “I am sorry for the gun,” he said.

  The warmth of his heart felt almost real. He tugged me deeper into him, trying to modify how he appeared to me.

  I fought him, but it was like fighting smoke.

  “I don’t believe you,” I said.

  It started raining for real. Larger droplets hit my face, disorienting me.

  “He warned me about you,” I told him. “He warned me you were dangerous.”

  Terian rose to his feet. His smile grew a touch cold.

  “Did he?” That time, I almost heard an accent. Clicking softly like the other one had, Terian made a low snorting sound. “Gaos di’lanlente. My dear old friend Dehgoies isn’t very subtle these days, is he? Since he has already begun his pathetic attempt at indoctrination, let us cut to the chase. You are the Bridge, are you not?”

  I frowned, remembering what the black-haired man had called me.

  Of course, I had absolutely no idea what it meant. I could recall something from history classes in college, some mythology that mentioned a religious figured they called “The Bridge,” but I had no memory of the significance. It had something to do with that telekinetic seer, Syrimne, I was pretty sure...but I couldn’t remember.

  In response to what must have been a blank look from me, Terian’s smile widened.

  “He woke you and didn’t tell you? Classic Dehgoies.”

  I shoved my body backwards in the mud with my feet.

  Following my retreat, Terian once more bent his knees, sidling forward like a crab. He caught my wrist, staring into my face.

  “Let me enlighten you, my dear,” he said softly. “You are the Bridge. In fact, I can see that it is so, clearly now that we are so close...it is written all over your aleimi. We have been looking for you...the whole seer community has been trying to find you...for more years than you have been alive. I do not know how the Seven managed to locate you first, or to hide you...or to keep your sight powers from showing, or your blood hidden from SCARB, but they did do all of those things, somehow...”

  “What are you talking about—”

  “You’re going to kill all the humans for us, Allie love.” Terian smiled, but his eyes shone cold as ice. His voice grew into a caress. “Every last one of them. You’re going to save us. You’re going to restore your race to its birthright, lover. To its former, unabashed glory...”

  My fingers clenched the mud.

  I was probably dead either way.

  I threw the handful of mud directly at his eyes, scrabbling to get away. He lunged after me easily though, catching my ankle, then my arm.

  “There, there, little girl—”

  “Let me go!” I shouted, hoping someone, anyone, might hear. “Seer!” I screamed louder. “Seer! Crazy fucking terrorist seer!”

  Terian dragged me to my feet, his fingers gripping my wrists like iron bands.

  His voice remained friendly, if indifferent.

  “It will not help you to pull the authorities into this, Alyson,” he said. “...Not anymore. I would not relish hurting you, like my old friend, Revi’ might, but I will, if I must. The hard part...” He paused. His grin stole wider. “...Well, the hard part for you, of course, is only beginning I’m afraid. But Dehgoies lied. We do not wish you dead. Quite the contrary—”

  “Get your hands off me!”

  “––There is a necessary, ah, assimilation period, of course,” he said, still smiling. “It is difficult of course, I will not lie. But I will do what I can to ease it for you, my sister. Or to hasten it, if you prefer...”

  “Get off me! Now! Get the fuck off me...!”

  A dark form dropped silently from the trees behind him.

  Terian smiled down at me warmly, his voice still collegial.

  “The pain will be entirely worth it, I promise you. It will be brief, you will forget it...and when it is finished, we have such wondrous things to show you, my young friend! I myself regret not a single instant of my time with the Org. Neither did Revi’, whatever he might say now. He once was one of our most ardent soldiers. A true believer, through and through—”

  “Help!” I jerked my arms, bucking against him, trying to get away. I found myself aiming my words at the shadow standing behind Terian. “Help me, please! I’ll go with you! I’ll go with you! I’ll do whatever you want!”

  Terian whirled, looking behind him...but too late.

  Metal glinted as the shadow swung his arm.

  Then Terian was kneeling on the needle-strewn ground. He clutched his throat, making choking, gurgling sounds.

  He raised the gun, pointing it at the shadow, who knocked it sharply away.

  I only stood there, paralyzed, as the shadow forced Terian to the pine-carpeted ground. The taller man knelt on Terian’s chest, holding his forehead with pale fingers. I just stood there, watching, as he cut directly into Terian’s throat with the same sharp object, sawing through cartilage and flesh above a bucking, writhing body, finishing the job with a methodicalness that bordered on rote.

  A fountain of blood pulsed up, dark in the moonlight. It splattered his hands, face, neck and chest. Watching it, smelling it, brought bile to my throat in a thick rush.

  I was panting, breathing too much, my back against the tree. It felt like all the blood in my body now pooled in my feet.

  When he finished his task, the shadow straightened as if pulled vertical by steel cables.

  “We cannot stay here,” he said.

  I screamed. I must have screamed again. Before I could get too far into it, he threw himself forward in a crouch, clamping a sticky hand roughly over my mouth.

  “Sleep,” he commanded. “Sleep now.”

  The trees, the rain and the dead body disappeared.

  5

  BARRIER

  I DIDN’T QUESTION the motion of the car at first.

  It was kind of soothing, even if I struggled finding a comfortable resting place for my arms. A bump in the road brought my eyes abruptly open. Sky through a dirty windshield showed the faint pink and gold of pre-dawn.

  The silhouette of a saint statue broke my view. It was glued to the dashboard above an old-fashioned FM radio with silver knobs.

  My eyes traveled left, meeting an angular profile framed by black hair matted to a pale neck. Almo
nd-shaped eyes sat above high cheekbones, taking in the road. He had the beginnings of five o’clock shadow. Flecks of a familiar-looking brown stained his shirt, which bulged from a crude, homemade bandage on his shoulder.

  Feeling my stare, he turned. His eyes appeared cold even in the morning sun.

  I tried to raise a hand...

  And the motion of my arm was abruptly stopped.

  I stared down at the handcuffs for a full minute before the reality of them penetrated. It struck me that my wrists were bare apart from the metal rings. So were my ankles; the GPS was gone but my ankles were now bound with hard plastic, like those tie-binders they used on reality cop shows. Leaning back, I used my weight to try and budge the only object I thought I had some chance of influencing, namely the plastic armrest.

  When it stayed firmly affixed to the door, I looked up at him again, watching him stare at me. I translated his expression as disinterested puzzlement.

  He didn’t try to stop me as I continued to test my limits of motion. My whole body hurt; I was bruised, dirty and felt half-naked under the dog-smelling blanket, even though I was reasonably sure I still wore the same clothes I had at work. My throat hurt. I was insanely thirsty. My neck had crimped while I slept against the car door. I thought about my mom in a kind of blurred panic. I started to scream, but that got a reaction from him.

  “Be silent!”

  His words jarred me. I’d forgotten about the German accent.

  When I shut up, his eyes lowered, along with his voice.

  “Don’t make me knock you unconscious.” He shifted in his seat, as if uncomfortable, or maybe just hearing his own words. “I would rather not.”

  Hesitating, he glanced at my wrists.

  My eyes started their waterworks thing. I couldn’t help myself. “Please don’t kill me,” I said. “Mom’s not even over dad yet...she’d never be able to handle this. She might really kill herself, I mean it...she’ll drink herself to death...”

  His gaze drifted out the window. He seemed to sigh.

  “Please! Mister, I...” My cheeks burned before I’d even said it. “I was always supportive of seer’s rights,” I ventured. “I was never one of those people who—”