Rook

by JC Andrijeski

  I am jealous. I am beyond jealous, and of two dead people.

  I follow his eyes to the muddy tracks below. Men in gray-green uniforms roll a tank of gas onto a wagon tied to a wooden yoke laced to a mule. The soldiers cluck at the mule, pulling at its bridle until the mule, the wagon, and the tank stand in the middle of the mud ruts in a circular drive. Two more tanks are loaded, pulled by another mule and a horse. The animals halt where men line up in formation, in the center of the circular drive.

  Around them, I count over a hundred people.

  “Why are we here?” Revik says again, but this time I hear uneasiness in his voice.

  “I want to cure you, Rolf. Of obedience. Of being a slave.”

  I feel my stomach roll over. I know suddenly, what I’m going to see.

  I don’t want to see it. I turn to Maygar.

  Let’s go. You were right. This is a dead end.

  But Maygar is focused on Galaith.

  He does not see what I see, or if he does, he does not care.

  The separation pain worsens, mixes with a grief too thick to think through. The resonance is too strong; I can’t change my vibration enough to pull myself out. I am locked here, tied with steel cords to this past Revik and his grief for his dead wife.

  That is him? Maygar says of Galaith. He is human, Bridge!

  A silver channel opens up above the three of them, feeding directly into the cloud of the Rooks...the Dreng, I think, remembering Vash’s explanation. Terian’s light body shines with wire-like threads, but many fewer than existed when I glimpsed that side of him in San Francisco. The widest channel of all opens between the Dreng and the faceless man.

  That same channel then opens to Revik.

  Sharp, silver light ignites through his aleimi like molten sparks. The sickness I feel worsens as I watch his light change. The silver overtakes the softer gold-white, seems to strengthen it, but I see it as a covering over, a slow eclipse of something I realize I still love, that I can’t seem to stop loving, no matter how hard I try.

  Seconds later, the auras around Terian and Revik gleam bright with metallic, silver light, emitting lightning-like flashes. An even brighter aura pulses off Galaith.

  I hear Maygar mutter beside me.

  ...Impossible.

  Terian winks at Revik. “You see, my cantankerous, Heer friend,” he says with a smirk. “Galaith, here, he is like a great, big mirror. Anything that lives in the network, lives also in him. Which means, if any of us has a present for the network, he is the first to unwrap it...”

  Terian’s eyes turn slightly colder, and just for the barest instant, more predatory. I see the covetousness in him, even back then, but he turns it into a smile.

  “...We only get tastes, right Mr. G?” he jokes. “Scraps and bites?”

  Galaith doesn’t respond. He watches Revik carefully. “Are you all right?”

  I feel Maygar’s shock expanding, pulling on me.

  What? I send, irritated. I cannot take my eyes off Revik.

  Did you not hear me? Maygar hisses. That man...he is a human being! He is not seer at all...! It is impossible that he can do these things!

  Galaith’s outline keeps getting brighter.

  Revik steps back warily as the human’s light body flashes out in a hard arc. Galaith raises a hand towards the field, and I see a Nazi soldier’s eyes flash silver, just before he bends to light a torch on one of the loaded wagons.

  Galaith turns to Revik. “This war can be over in months,” he says. “Already, two million have died in the camps. Should we wait until it is four million? Ten million?”

  Revik hesitates, staring out over the field.

  “Hitler needs to die,” Terian adds. “If the humans want a leader, we’ll give them one...we’ll give them all the dreams and laws and bullshit racial policies they desire. But why should seers die for the madness of humanity? Why? When we can bring peace so easily?”

  Revik stares down the hill.

  I remember Russia, the frozen bodies, the smell of burning flesh, and realize Revik is remembering, too.

  The first gas tank detonates. An inexplicable grief expands in my light as fire blows back the line of soldiers. They are murderers, too, I think. But my thoughts and fears and rationalizations are all caught up in Revik’s, the wanting to believe he can be a part of something, that he can make it better. That he can be more than simply a bystander, helpless as history unfolds.

  Terian ducks as the fireball expands, then starts to laugh.

  Screams fill the clearing, along with smoke and fast-moving shrapnel. Seconds later, meat comes crashing down. I realize it is from the mule that pulled the cart and feel another surge of nausea as legs and arms rain down, too, some of the feet still wearing boots.

  “Revik?” Galaith watches him, waiting. “Are you ready?”

  Revik hesitates. He almost looks afraid.

  “How many seers did they kill?” Galaith asks. “How many burned in the gas chambers as you watched from the Barrier, cousin?”

  Revik holds up his hand. Seeing his fingers shake slightly, I will him to lower it. I know this is past, that it’s already happened. I know I cannot change any of it now, that it’s too late. I even hear the logic in Galaith’s words. I want the same revenge Revik wants for all those who died, but I will him to hear me anyway, to not do this.

  A blank-eyed soldier lowers a second torch.

  When it explodes, I flinch along with Revik.

  Shock rips holes in the turf, throwing wood and iron as shrapnel into standing lines of men. The SS don’t move out of the way, even when burning metal embeds in their flesh, or catches their hair or clothes on fire, or splatters hot oil across their skin.

  I see Revik’s jaw harden. Without being asked by Galaith, he focuses down the hill again. The third soldier lowers his torch.

  There is another hollow boom.

  Terian is laughing again, jumping up and down as black smoke plumes outward in a mushroom-shaped cloud. Revik stares down the torn-up field in angry shock as Terian hits him playfully on the chest, then starts down the hill to view the carnage up close.

  He leaves Galaith and Revik to stand there alone.

  “What are you?” Revik says, looking at him.

  I feel Maygar beside me, tensing for the answer.

  Galaith smiles. “Perhaps you should ask yourself that question, Rolf.” He smiles, squeezing Revik’s shoulder. “I’m very, very proud of you, my son.”

  Revik stares down at the field. His eyes still show a dim shock, but I recognize the predatory curiosity there as well. The intent focus accompanies a fire that powers a hotter engine beneath his controlled veneer.

  Interesting choice for a mate, Maygar says. ...Esteemed Bridge.

  I turn on him in fury.

  He reformed, okay? Just let it go!

  I watch as Maygar grunts, looking at Revik with utter loathing.

  His self-righteousness infuriates me.

  Whatever your trip is with him, it’s infantile, I tell him. He’s dead!

  Real anger flashes in Maygar’s light.

  Infantile? He catches my light arm in his hand. I saw it, Esteemed Bridge. I fucking saw it! I looked at all of the records from when Dehgoies Revik ‘reformed.’ I saw what happened when they brought him in. Half-dead, beaten to a pulp by his own and then our men...you should have heard the litany of garbage he spewed, as the Adhipan worked to detach him from that Pyramid filth! It took them days to get it off...weeks even. And all the while, the whole construct was treated to the lovely things your husband did while in the Rooks’ employ...

  Maygar’s eyes flash colder as he looks down the hill.

  ...The things I saw as they unwound those structures made me physically ill, Bridge. I did not sleep. I could not want anything but his death for days. So do not tell me I am infantile. Do not tell me anything about that man, not until you’ve seen what he is for yourself...

  I stare at Maygar through the Barrier, but my mind is blank.


  Do not kid yourself, he says. They recruited him for one reason. At his core, he was an evil fucking bastard. That’s all he ever was, Esteemed Bridge...

  I look at Revik.

  Revik from the past, but still the light I know.

  He is looking at me, too, I realize.

  I am still standing there, watching his face, when roughly, Maygar uses his aleimi to change our frequency. As soon as he does, the past around me unravels.

  The last thought I have as I lose him yet again is that I’m thirsty.

  More thirsty than I’ve ever been in my life.

  25

  WIRE

  HE FEELS HER, feels her skin, the ends of her fingers as she caresses him, touches his face, his arms, his chest, his cock. He thinks of all the times he wanted her to touch him, that he fantasized about her touching him...all the regrets about what he should have done in Seattle, on that ship, even in the dirt that night in Vancouver. She’s already driving him crazy and they are kissing again...his tongue thickens, pain rising in his belly.

  She reaches for him, and he opens at once.

  But something twists his light, forcing him back.

  His wanting turns to aggression, frustration, a bleak hopelessness when she returns, lets him feel her...but it’s never enough.

  Gods...she’s fucking with him. She’s teasing him, trying to make him insane. She knows he’s in pain, that he can’t go to her.

  But something darker lingers there.

  Someone else is with her.

  She isn’t alone.

  HE GROANED, UNWILLINGLY awake. Lying on a wet tile floor, he couldn’t move. The pain sharpened as he lay there, worsening as the ache in his arms and neck returned. He was shivering, naked, freezing cold, so fucking thirsty he couldn’t think about much else once he noticed...but the pain on his neck and back felt like fire.

  It occurred to him then. Water still ran over his bare skin.

  He hadn’t been asleep. He’d passed out.

  The other seer dropped the water spigot. Crouching down, he stared into Revik’s face.

  “Feeling better, Revi’?”

  Revik threw out his light in reflex and the collar around his neck tripped, bringing another blinding jolt. His head snapped back, then fell back to the tile. He groaned, unable to stop it.

  “Apparently so,” Terian gazed down Revik’s body. “Missing her again, are we?”

  He fought to go unconscious again, willing it.

  “Let’s go over it again...”

  Revik tried to remember the line of questioning they’d been on, couldn’t.

  “Who has the succession order, Revi’?”

  The sickness worsened. “I don’t know,” he said.

  “Really?” Terian walked around where he lay. “Shall we pull your friend out of her cage again? Maybe if I played with her a bit, that might jog your memory?”

  Revik clutched the chain where it attached to the floor.

  He avoided the female with his light, but he couldn’t help looking for her with his eyes. Her naked body lay slumped in an iron box against the far wall, her eyes half-lidded, catatonic. The slack look on her face was more than he could bear, worse than the long cut that bisected her delicate features. He remembered the last time Terian brought her out here, felt his stomach lurch even as his eyes drifted to her feet bleeding through the dirty gauze he’d used to staunch the blood. He’d taken two of her toes that time, one from each foot.

  “No,” he said, hoarse.

  “No?” Terian said. “Say please, Revi’.”

  “Please.” His eyes returned to the floor. “Please, I—”

  “All right.” Terian smiled, waving him off. “...Since you’re being a good boy.” His eyes narrowed. “The succession order, Revi’...the truth this time. I have it from very reliable sources that you were the only one who had it after Galaith.”

  When Revik hesitated, trying to think, Terian kicked him, hard, aiming at the muscled part of his thigh. Revik gasped.

  “I don’t know,” he blurted. “...I swear it’s the truth. You can read me. You know I’m not lying. If I ever had it, they wiped it when I left—”

  Terian kicked him again. Revik shifted half to his side, fighting to breathe.

  Rocking on his heels, Terian touched his lips with a finger, gazing up at the ceiling.

  “Yes,” he said. “That memory loss is most irritating. But you know I don’t fully believe you, don’t you, Revi’? Your light is different, you see...ever since that day on the ship. I know you can’t feel it with that restraining device around your neck, but take my word for it...it is. Quite different. You feel much more like my old friend than you did in San Francisco. So much so I have a hard time believing you, when you say you don’t remember.”

  Revik just lay there, breathing into the tile.

  They’d been over this.

  He’d lost track of answers he’d given, contradicted, lied about. He knew Terian likely no longer listened for details anyway. By now he knew exactly what Revik did and didn’t know. What he hadn’t said aloud had been ripped from his mind...about Allie, every intimate detail, every lie and truth and half-truth. Work he’d done under Vash. His job in the Guard. It wouldn’t be enough. This had become an endurance game, and he would lose.

  Even as he thought it, the rod jabbed at muscles in his back, just enough that he reflexively tried to block it.

  “What were you dreaming about, Revi’? Just now?”

  Images swam forward. He saw Allie again, her hands on his chest, holding his arms. He remembered her pulling on him and hardened painfully.

  Now that he was powerless to block it, the separation was like a drug...it brought wanting, but also regret, memory in sharp relief, emotions he could barely comprehend, much less control. The sickness worsened. For a moment, he could only lie there, half-gasping.

  The collar sparked.

  Terian bent down, gripping his hair, pulling his head back.

  “Every time. You know, Revi’...your eyes glow every time I mention her. You really are a mess, my friend.” He relaxed his hold, adding casually, “It’s not like I have a lot of telekinetic seers to study, to see the effects they have on their mates. But the glow eye thing of yours intrigues me. So do those lights you managed to shatter on the ship...”

  His eyes turned clinical, studying Revik’s with a faint edge.

  “Incidentally, I was with your wife while you were fucking that human.” A half-smile tugged at his lips as Revik looked away. “If your goal was to hear her beg, I think it was working, my brother. Truly. So much so, I considered mounting her myself...” He gripped Revik’s hair tighter, forcing him to look at him. He bent closer to his ear, his voice a murmur. “The images coming off her...gods. I could have called in the whole Guard. We could have taken turns. I don’t think she would have minded a bit, Revi’...not a bit.”

  Revik fought the image out of his light and the collar tripped, sending white fire down his spine. When Terian released him, he lay his face against the tile, breathed into the cold floor.

  His eyes caught those of the other human in the room, who squatted in a cage next to the one where Cass lay broken against the wall. The man there looked even skinnier and paler than he was, if that were even possible. Seeing the sympathy there, Revik closed his eyes.

  He felt Jon’s light reach for his, a pale comfort.

  Bright...so bright for a human.

  Too bright.

  The yellow eyes swiveled in Jon’s direction.

  “Interesting.” Terian rose, starting towards the row of cages where Jon was already moving, scurrying to put his back to the wall, as far away from the cage’s door as possible.

  Revik lifted his head, writhed to his stomach.

  “Fucking dirt blood,” he gasped.

  Terian halted, halfway to where Jon hunched in the corner.

  Revik fought for breath, pushing out words. “...You’d give your cock to be me. That’s the real reason
you’re doing this. Not to find Allie. Not to learn more about any fictitious ‘succession order’...but to pretend you’re stronger than me, that you beat me. It’s pathetic, Terry...”

  Terian turned. Behind him, Jon waved Revik off, his hazel eyes rounded in horror. But Revik’s gaze fixed on the human’s bandaged hand. His jaw hardened.

  “It speaks.” Terian folded his arms, cocking his head with narrow eyes. “Wow, Revi’. Did you just...insult me?” His smile widened. “I confess, I didn’t think you had it in you. Not after our last go around.”

  Revik’s throat was so dry he was hoarse. “You still can’t stand the fact that Galaith made me second over you. He’d still take me back, Terry...in a fucking heart beat.”

  Terian smiled, gesturing him forward. “Go on.”

  Revik saw the hardness beneath the smile. He’d reached him.

  But not enough.

  He blurted, “Feigran, right? Wasn’t that your name?”

  Terian’s smile grew leaden.

  “I remember.” Revik’s fingers tightened around the chains. “A shit-blood from the Ukraine. Dugress, right? A town I destroyed...on accident, I admit. I don’t remember.” He barked a laugh. “I was drunk a lot back then, but there’s no way I’d destroy a crap town of beet farmers on purpose...”

  Terian’s full mouth thinned.

  Behind him, Jon had gone rigid, as still as death.

  “I had to study files on all of my...” Revik barked another hoarse laugh. “...subordinates. You’re one of those inbred seers with an inferiority complex, is that it? Saw too many of your relatives go to the gas chambers? I guess that would hit at your self-esteem...supposedly superior race, and you’re exterminated like rats.” He coughed, tasting blood. “Tell me, did your father really get so poor he sold his wife? Did he sell you, too, Feigran? Is that how the Rooks acquired you? For a few dead animals and—”

  The rod came down hard, in the middle of his chest.

  Revik stopped breathing, losing all sense of where he was. The pain whited out his vision. He blocked it and the collar flared around his neck. Before he could go unconscious, Terian stepped forward and kicked him in the face. The shock yanked Revik out of his mind just as the mixer hit him lower with the rod, low enough to bring a scream.