by Jay Posey
“Any of it. For us to attack. Or to have help. I think it was too much for him. This time. I think he’s still learning.”
“I still don’t understand it,” Cass said. “You’re sure it’s Asher?”
“I’m positive.”
“Do you know how he’s doing it?”
Wren looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap. After a few moments, he shook his head. “No, I don’t, Mama. I’m sorry.”
Cass leaned over and kissed him on top of the head again. In her hazy state, she’d almost let herself forget. She wanted to forget. But if it was true, and she had no reason to doubt her son, then Asher was out there, somehow. And that meant that Asher would, one day, come for them.
She thought back to the attack on Morningside’s gate. The destruction of Chapel’s village. Chapel’s village. Had Asher known that they’d sheltered Wren before he first came to Morningside? A sudden chill settled over Cass as the thought crystallized. It was exactly the kind of thing Asher would do. Scorch the earth of any and all who may have had a hand in his undoing. Or something else. Not even revenge. Just to destroy something beloved by his little brother. Pure malice.
It was too much to consider for Cass in that moment. Her thoughts were still scattered, hard to capture. As much as she hated to admit it, she was in no shape to do anything about Asher, or even to think about doing anything.
“You should rest,” Lil said. She got to her feet.
“Didn’t I just do that for sixteen hours or something?” Cass said. But even as she said it, she felt a hint of relief at the suggestion, as if it gave her permission to feel as exhausted as she did.
Lil chuckled. “A drugged sleep is rarely a restful one, and your body needs time. Are you hungry?”
Cass shook her head.
“I’ll check on you in a couple of hours,” Lil said.
“Thanks, Lil.”
Lil bowed slightly and gracefully left the room.
“I think I need to lie down again, baby,” Cass said.
Wren slipped off the bed and stood next to it while Cass gingerly repositioned herself. The mattress hadn’t seemed all that comfortable the first time she’d slept on it, but now it seemed as good as any bed she could remember.
“Can I stay with you?” Wren asked.
“Of course.”
Cass scooted over and started to put her back to the wall, but found there was no way she could lie on her back or left side that didn’t cause her some measure of pain. In the end she moved to the edge of the bed, to lie on her right side, and let Wren slide in between her and the wall. He lay on his back, with her arm under his neck and his head on her pillow. The pressure hurt her biceps a little, but she found the comfort of his weight outweighed the pain, reassuring her that he was here and safe. She laid her other arm over him and nuzzled his soft, warm cheek, and let her eyes fall closed.
Wren lay alongside his mother, listening to her steady breathing. It used to help him relax, to focus on her breathing. Now it just made him feel worse. He had lied to her. He’d never lied to her before. But then, he’d never had need to before.
It had been hard to say it, to actually get the false words to come out of his mouth. But he’d done it, and even though he felt bad, he was still sure it had been the right thing to do. Pretty sure, anyway. He’d told her he didn’t know how Asher had gotten into the Weir. But in truth, he knew exactly how he’d done it.
Asher had found his way into Underdown’s machine.
Wren had spent hours running it through his mind, replaying Asher’s final moments, still vivid in his memory. Even after all this time, he wasn’t certain what he had done. He wasn’t even sure what he’d meant to do. He’d just wanted Asher to stop, and to go away, so he’d told him to. And then. Then it was like Asher had just… dissolved.
And maybe he had, in some way. Because Wren had never sensed Asher again. Until yesterday, on the rooftop.
He’d wondered from time to time what might have happened to Asher, of course. And now, though Wren still didn’t have the exact answer, he felt he had at least some clue. Whatever Wren had done to him, Asher had managed to undo. To reclaim his consciousness. Or reassemble it, maybe. Outside the bounds of usual storage. Unsecured.
Wren guessed Asher had interfaced with the machine plenty of times before. He might in fact have been connected to it in that last moment. And from there, it would’ve been a small thing for someone like Asher. A small thing to infiltrate the minds of the Weir, already slaves to some other purpose, and bend them to his will.
The first time, the only time, Wren had connected to the machine, what he’d seen had reminded him of Asher, but it’d never occurred to him then that Asher might really have been there. Wren wondered now what he could’ve done differently, if only he’d recognized it sooner. The system or systems that Underdown’s machine created, or tapped into, had been overwhelming. Underdown’s machine. His father’s machine. His father’s creation had given Asher a place to dwell, to grow in power, and Wren had sent him there. A dark legacy, his to bear, made darker by his own foolishness.
It was his fault. Really and truly. Wren had brought Asher to Morningside. And Wren had released Asher too. And now wherever Wren went, he was sure to attract Asher’s wrath.
He had to fix it. He had to make it right. And that meant Wren had to get back to Morningside to shut the machine down.
Painter sat balled up at the head of his bed, hunched in the corner with his back against two walls and his chin resting on his knees. He’d been sitting that way since before the sun came up, and even though he knew everyone else was up and about, he couldn’t bring himself to leave his room. Not yet.
His mind felt splintered. Not confused, but tangled, like Painter was holding too many contrary thoughts in his head at once. He’d seen the way Cass had moved. The way she’d carved through the horde of Weir. It had awed him. And horrified him.
On one hand, he’d been… what, grateful? Relieved? Emboldened? Some strange mix of emotions had filled him when Painter had come through the front doors of the building, expecting to see the Weir coming from every side. Instead, they’d been pushed back and, carrying Wick, he and Mouse had had a straight and clear path from the door to Lil’s people.
But as they’d approached, Lil had changed. They all had. And they had taken on some new, terrible form. And then they’d gone among the Weir. That was when he’d seen it all from a new perspective. The Weir had ceased to be merely appalling creatures in his eyes; they’d become something more. A community defending itself from some unholy vengeance that had come upon them without warning.
And somehow they hadn’t seemed so different from anyone else. Only a few months ago, he could’ve been among them. Even now, his sister could be. What if Snow had been there? Would Cass have hesitated to strike her down?
And yet. And yet. No matter what he thought, there seemed to always be some other thought alongside it, swirling, countering. Wren was good. Cass was good. Lil was good.
And yet.
The only thing Painter was certain of was that he didn’t belong. Not here with them. Not in Morningside. Not even among the Weir.
Where was Snow? Where was his sister? He missed her more than he’d thought possible. He wished she’d never gotten caught up in whatever game was being played in Morningside. Even when she’d rejected him, at least he’d known she was out there somewhere, alive. There’d still been hope.
There seemed little of that now.
I can’t promise that, Wren had said. I’d try, Painter, he’d said. A far cry from hope. And though Painter didn’t understand what it meant that this Asher had been in control of the Weir somehow, he knew it was something dreadful. Could Asher jump from one Weir to another? Or was it that he could control many at once? Whatever the case, the thought that Snow might be out there as little more than a puppet for Asher’s malevolence…
Maybe he should’ve just buried her after all. He finally realized how desperate it h
ad been, how foolish. It seemed all too likely that now the only outcome would be that he’d never really know what became of her. He made a decision then, in his heart.
Whatever might come, whatever the consequence, he would return to Morningside. Whether Painter had to live inside the wall or beyond it, he would find her. And then he would do whatever it took to help Snow find her way back.
It was midafternoon before Cass found the strength to come out of her room. Lil had brought her food a little after noon, and Mouse had stopped in to check on her. Gamble, too, had visited for a short time. Cass was relieved to know that she’d managed to cling to Gamble’s knife through the battle. Apparently Mouse had had to pry it out of her hand at some point.
Out in the hall, Cass heard Wren’s voice in one of the other rooms and followed its sound to a door that was cracked open.
“…because the bridge cuts off this loop here, see,” a weak voice was saying, “so it’s actually faster. Just not the safest way.”
Cass knocked lightly on the door.
“Yeah, you can come in,” the voice said. Cass nudged the door open and found Wren sitting in a chair next to Wick.
Wick was propped up on some pillows in bed. He hardly looked like himself, his face was so pale, and his eyes were darkly ringed. An IV bag hung on a makeshift apparatus, the line running to his right arm. “Hey, Lady. How you feeling?” Wick said, smiling broadly. He tried to sit up, but she motioned for him not to.
“I’m good, Wick. How are you?”
“Milking it,” he said. But his voice was thin and didn’t have the same smooth timbre it usually did. “I don’t remember the last time I got to stay in bed all day.”
“Hey, baby,” Cass said to Wren.
“Hi, Mom,” he answered. He glanced at her when he said it, but then went to looking at his hands in his lap. It made her feel like she’d interrupted something.
“What’s the prognosis?”
Wick shrugged about halfway and then grimaced. It took a second before he could respond. “Mouse says four or five days, but he worries like a grandma.” He waggled his arm with the IV in it. “Got me all juiced up out of fear of infection. But I figure I’m up and about tomorrow, maybe day after.”
“You just do what Mouse tells you to. He knows what he’s doing.”
“Likes to give that impression, anyway.”
Cass paused a moment, looking at him there. Grieved by his pain, grateful he was alive. “You had me really worried there, Wick. More than grandma worried.”
“Yeah. I’m really sorry about getting poked, Miss Cass. I’m better than that, I promise.”
Wick seemed genuinely upset with himself, and his apology was sincere. Cass shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I’m just sorry it happened.”
“It shouldn’t have.”
His expression went dark when he said it. Remembering. She could almost read his mind, or at least guess at his train of thought. If he hadn’t gotten hurt, no one would’ve had to carry him, and if no one had had to carry him, there would’ve been two more shooters, and if there’d been two more shooters, maybe Cass wouldn’t have gotten overwhelmed… Nothing she said was going to make him feel any better about how things had gone. She decided to change the subject.
“Wren’s not keeping you up, is he?”
“No, not at all. He’s good company. We were just getting the lay of the land, seeing where we are in relation to everything else. Sharp kid. You should keep him.”
“I plan on it,” Cass said, smiling at her son. Wren seemed down, or troubled. “You OK, sweetheart?”
“Fine,” Wick answered. “Thanks, honey.”
Cass gave a Wick a look, and he just smiled back.
“I’m fine,” Wren said. “Just tired.”
“I was going to see if I could find something to eat. You want to come?”
“No thanks.” He still wouldn’t look at her. Which usually meant he was either upset about something, or that he was wishing she’d leave. Cass motioned with her hands at Wick to see if he needed her to have Wren come with her, but Wick waved her off.
“OK,” she said. “Wick, want me to bring you anything?”
“No, ma’am,” he said. “Thank you though.”
“Alright then.” Cass hovered at the door for a moment. “A few more minutes, and then we’ll let Wick rest, OK, baby?”
“OK,” Wren said. There was a brief silence, but then Wren looked over and asked, “Can Lil teach me that thing now?”
It took a second before Cass remembered what he was talking about, and when she did, she didn’t like the thought of it. Seeing her son like that. And Lil had said it was difficult to learn. But there was no doubt they’d be facing the Weir again. Worse. Asher in the Weir.
“If she has time,” Cass said.
Wren’s eyes glinted in either excitement or surprise. Maybe he’d been expecting her to say no. He got to his feet.
“Thanks, Wick. I hope you feel better.” Wren offered his hand. Wick shook it with kind sobriety.
“Thanks for keeping me company, Governor.”
Wren came over and stood next to Cass.
“Open or closed?” she asked.
“You can close it, thanks,” Wick said. “Gonna rack out for a bit.”
Cass chuckled and shook her head. Wick just flashed his grin. She should’ve known better than to think he’d ever ask Wren to leave, no matter how tired Wick was. Cass pulled the door closed, and then she and Wren turned and went down the hall. It was disconcerting how unstable Cass felt on her feet. They walked together in silence.
They found Lil in one of the common rooms on the top floor, talking with Finn and another woman that Cass didn’t recognize. Everyone stood when they saw her.
“Miss Cass,” Finn said. “How’re you feeling?”
“Well enough, Finn. Thanks,” Cass said. “Are we interrupting?”
“No, not at all,” Lil said. “Please, join us.” She introduced Cass to the other woman there with them. “Cass, this is Mei. Mei, Cass.”
They shook hands. Mei was a couple of inches taller than Cass and willow thin. Her hands were surprisingly strong.
“Mei,” Cass said. “You came with Lil to rescue us.”
Mei nodded.
“Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“What brings you out and about?” Lil asked, as they all took seats.
“Wren had something he wanted to ask you,” Cass answered. Lil looked at him.
“I was wondering if you had time to teach me your trick,” he said. “The broadcasting.”
Lil looked back at Cass for confirmation, and Cass nodded.
“Sure, Wren,” Lil said. “We can try. Here, come sit next to me.” She stood up to grab another chair, but Finn got up and slid his closer to her, and then went and found another for himself. Lil scooted the chair right next to hers and then sat back down and patted it. Wren crawled up into the chair. It was oversized anyway, and seemed even moreso with his small frame in it. Lil angled her body towards him, and Wren mirrored her.
“Now,” she said, “I’ll try to teach you, but you should know that it can be very challenging. Not everyone can do it. So, you have to promise you won’t be upset with yourself if you don’t get it right away.”
“OK,” Wren said. “I promise.”
“OK. Take a deep breath, and try to relax.”
Lil walked Wren through some early steps and explained what Chapel had taught her about boosting her own signal. Wren listened patiently, soaking it all in. As she watched silently, Cass could sense a gradual change between them and could almost imagine the relationship they must have had years ago. Wren seemed more open and comfortable with her than Cass had seen him in days. Weeks, maybe.
After several minutes, Wren gave it his first try. He closed his eyes and scrunched up his face. Cass could tell he was really concentrating. But there was no sign of anything happening.
“Will I be able to tell if I’m doin
g it?” Wren asked.
“You will. You’ll feel it,” Lil said. “It’s hard to explain, but I think you’ll know.”
Cass almost mentioned that she’d be able to see it, but felt like any comment from her might seem like an intrusion. She remained quiet, as Lil gave Wren some further suggestions. He tried again, with little discernible difference. They worked together for nearly half an hour. Wren became increasingly frustrated, with himself, not with Lil, but Lil picked up on it.
“Why don’t we take a little break,” Lil said. “We can try again later if you like.”
“Can we try one more time?” Wren said. Lil nodded.
“One more.”
Again, Wren closed his eyes, though this time not as tightly. His lips moved slightly, pursing as he focused. Several seconds passed without any noticeable change. And then, there, just at the outer edge of his body, Cass saw it. A thin aura, faint and shimmering.
“There,” Cass said. “You’re doing it!”
Immediately it stopped as Wren opened his eyes.
“Am I?” he asked.
“You were,” she said. “A little bit. I could just see it.”
His shoulders slumped, and he looked dejected. “I was trying really hard.”
Lil put her hand on his shoulder. “That you can do it at all is amazing, Wren. I’ve never seen anyone your age do it before. Not even twice your age. You should feel proud.” She gave his shoulder a little squeeze. “And you promised not to be upset with yourself.”
Wren nodded and sat back in his chair. Lil stood up.
“I should probably make the rounds anyway,” she said. “We’ll try again tomorrow if you like, OK?”
“OK,” Wren said. “Thanks, Lil.” Lil nodded and started towards the door. The others stood as well.
“Guess I’ll go check on Wick,” Finn said. “But maybe next time I’ll try it too, huh?” Finn knocked Wren on the shoulder as he said it, and Wren gave him a little smile in return.
“I could work with you,” Mei said. “If you think it’d help.”
Finn smiled at her. “I’d appreciate it. Whether it helped or not.”
Mei actually blushed a little. If Cass hadn’t known better, she might’ve suspected there was something brewing between the two of them. Finn held out his hand to let Mei exit first, and then followed her out. As he passed Cass, he winked at her.