Things Unseen

by C. J. Brightley

  Aria spread her bedroll against the back wall. “I’ll be out in a minute,” she said to Gabriel. He stepped outside.

  The boy’s face was solemn, worried, and she finally asked, “What are you thinking?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. Aria moved closer and put a tentative hand on his shoulder. He gestured helplessly toward Owen’s face.

  “There’s food if you want.”

  He stared at Owen and shook his head.

  “You should sleep. He would want you to regain your strength. You’ve been through a lot, too.”

  He twitched his shoulder again, then lay down, curled against Owen’s side, his head against his uncle’s shoulder.

  “I’m going out for a bit, but I’ll be back.”

  He didn’t respond, but she hadn’t really expected him to.

  Gabriel waved to her from a spot on the other side of the theater. She felt everyone’s eyes on her as she walked across the empty space, and tried to keep from feeling like she was under examination.

  Dinner was a quick affair, but she was pleasantly surprised by the food. After a week of sandwiches, anything hot was welcome.

  “This is good.”

  “Martha does it. She used to be a chef, back when there were such things.” Gabriel returned her strained smile. “I’ll tell her you said so.”

  “Why did you shoot him?”

  Silence descended on the table.

  “It’s a long story. For another time.” Gabriel stood. “I have work. Sleep when you want. There will be food when you wake up.”

  Chapter Seven

  Aria woke to the sound of the door opening. Her eyes were crusty, and she groaned when she shifted. She must have been lying in one position for hours; every muscle in her body ached. You’d think I’d be used to sleeping on a hard floor by now, but no. It still hurts. Except after he sings.

  She rolled over at Gabriel’s startled exclamation. “Peace, Niall. I’m not going to hurt him.”

  Niall crouched in front of Owen’s motionless form, holding the plastic pen like a dagger. He grunted and glared at him before lowering his hand.

  Gabriel stepped into the room, leaving the door open. “I came to see if you needed help. More food?”

  Niall shook his head, then wrote, I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?

  Gabriel raised his eyebrows but did not respond. “And you?” he looked toward Aria. “It’s lunchtime, if you’re hungry. You missed breakfast.”

  “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  She turned her back to Niall and Owen and changed her shirt, scrubbed her face with her hands, and tried to make herself presentable. Not that it mattered.

  “How is he?” she asked Niall softly.

  He gestured, and she knelt beside him. Owen kept breathing, but that was all that could be said for him. Though no longer so obviously battered as that first night underground, he seemed somehow smaller. Weaker. Drained.

  I feel better now. I could help him if he would let me. Niall’s frustration was obvious, but so too was his own lingering weakness. Aria reached out with a gentle finger to trace the red ring around one thin wrist, and he slumped.

  “He wouldn’t want it. You should do as he said.”

  He nodded dejectedly.

  She ate with Gabriel again in a quiet knot of men and women. She had the sense of solemn tension, a mounting feeling of something about to happen, but no one told her anything. When she walked by, conversations stilled. She wasn’t part of their team yet, not fully trusted. She wasn’t sure she minded.

  She wandered back to Owen’s room after she finished eating. She thought of it as his room, even though she and Niall both slept there, too. Why do I feel safer with Owen, even unconscious, than in a room by myself? In this hotel, that would be creepy. He hadn’t moved. Niall looked up at her bleakly before settling back down with the notebook and continuing writing. He had already filled pages with his neat script.

  “Do you need anything?”

  He shook his head.

  She laid down on her bedroll, still tired. I haven’t taken an afternoon nap in months. Years. A long time.

  Aria woke slowly, aware of the lamp turned up and the soft rustle of paper behind her. She sat up to see Owen’s eyes on her.

  “Are you well?” he asked.

  “I should ask you that.”

  “Well enough.” He shifted with a wince. He sat propped against the wall of boxes, one leg stretched out before him, the other bent. He looked down at the notebook in his lap and flipped the page.

  “What does it say?” She slid over to sit shoulder to shoulder with him, not quite touching.

  “Niall has answered many questions I had about the testing facilities. The information may be useful when I go in again.” He rubbed his chest absently, still reading.

  “Did you know Gabriel would shoot you?”

  Owen huffed softly. “No. I should have spoken to him before I stepped into the doorway.”

  “Why did…? How did you…?” She couldn’t put her question in the right words. His clear blue gaze on her did not help.

  “Why did I what?”

  “You frightened us both!”

  “I’m sorry. I told Niall to trust me. I did not expect it to be so frightening for him.”

  The boy drew his knees up to his chest. He didn’t look at his uncle, but leaned in to rest his head on Owen’s shoulder on the other side.

  “Did you get any useful information?” He looked down at the notebook again.

  “Yes. But you should know that. You were in his mind, weren’t you?”

  “I removed the darkness that covered it. I did not look into his memories.”

  “You could have, though?”

  He turned to meet her eyes. “Yes. But I did not.” After a long moment, he leaned his head back against the cardboard and closed his eyes.

  “Was it worth it, then? What if we hadn’t gotten anything from him?”

  “Yes.”

  She stared at him. “Even if he had no information? How was it worth this?”

  “I could give him peace.”

  In the harsh light of the electric lantern, he should have looked haggard, but she was starting to suspect that was impossible. It caught the gray in his hair and the slow pulse beneath his jaw. Only the slack posture betrayed his weakness.

  “So it was altruism?” She raised her eyebrows.

  He snorted. “Not entirely. Gabriel is an impetuous child, but he’s not without honor. It makes him predictable.”

  “What?” She sat back to stare at him.

  “I bought back his trust. He’s a strong ally, but he needed to believe our goals are aligned. An extravagant act was more effective than words.”

  “So it was an act?”

  He gave her a cold look. “No. Act, as in action.” After a moment, he let out a soft sigh. “If Gabriel hadn’t shot me, it would not have cost so much. I wasn’t sure I had completed the task before…” he made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “But Gabriel would protect you. I ensured that before I began.” His lips quirked slightly. “I was irritated that he shot me, but it may have been helpful. Guilt is a powerful motivator, and he knows he was wrong.”

  “How are you now, then? Recovered?” She looked at him skeptically. “What comes next?”

  He snorted again. “Not even close. I doubt I could stand right now.” He took a deep breath. “I need to speak with him, but after I rest.”

  “There’s dinner for you, too.” She brought the paper bags closer. “It’s been sitting out, not refrigerated. I assume that’s not a problem?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Niall took the notebook from him and helped him sit up. The boy cut up the pig’s hearts and they ate together in silence. Owen stared at the floor, each bite deliberate.

  “You think Eastborn should be our first target then?” he asked finally.

  Niall nodded.

  There was a knock. “Come in!”


  Gabriel poked his head cautiously around the door. He considered Owen for a long moment. “We need to talk.”

  Owen nodded. “Yes. We do.” But he did not rise.

  Gabriel hesitated, then entered and dropped to sit on the other side of the lantern. “Fine then. Finish eating.” His voice was gentler than Aria had heard it before. “How do you feel?”

  Owen slanted him a sideways look. “How do you think?”

  Gabriel dropped his eyes and waited in silence while they finished.

  Niall offered his shoulder to Owen. He leaned hard on it as he stood, blinking dizzily. He nearly fell, and Aria put one hand on his back, but Gabriel moved closer and pulled Owen’s arm around his shoulder to support him.

  “Come. Others must hear too.”

  They went again to the alcove. Owen’s steps were slow, but he made it to a chair and dropped into it with a sigh. Others filed in and crowded around. There weren’t enough chairs for everyone, but Aria and Niall sat on either side of Owen, with Gabriel at the end of the table.

  Gabriel spoke without preamble. “Joshua remembered more after he slept. He said that after his tracker was put in, he spent a week in a gray room before reporting for work. Do you know anything about that?”

  The image rose in Aria’ mind. “I remember a room. I don’t know what happened there. I think I got injections.” She closed her eyes and pictured it. She hadn’t thought about it for years, the memory lost. Now she saw the fresh gray paint, a slight stain on the floor in one corner that might have been blood. A screen at the front. “We watched videos, I think. A lot of videos.”

  “We?”

  “There were about twenty of us in there at the same time. We sat in chairs with our arms and ankles strapped in. It didn’t hurt, but we were scared at first. Not at the end, though.”

  “You didn’t remember this before?”

  “No.”

  Gabriel sighed. “It’s not much to go on.”

  The fierce-looking woman spoke from behind Niall. “So the trackers make people forget? Do they have the technology to affect thoughts and memories that way?”

  “No. Not by electronic means.” Owen’s voice was quiet but sure.

  “How do you know?”

  “If they could do that, they should be able to detect Fae more easily. The trackers cannot be self-powered; they must be passive. Their scanners have range and can be very precise as far as location, but the trackers aren’t much more than product tags. The scanners detect a tracker, not a body. If you don’t have a tracker, you’re invisible. Only a few secure facilities have the advanced sensors to detect us, and those aren’t strictly a technological solution. It shouldn’t be that hard, either; just scan for bodies and alarm on the ones that are cold. They have those, too, but not everywhere.”

  Gabriel shot him a sharp look. “Why have you never told us this?”

  “I don’t recall parting on terms that encouraged me to share information with you.” Owen’s voice was mild.

  Gabriel scowled. “So then what happened to you, Aria? And why the delay in regaining your memories? What happened to prompt you to remember?”

  Aria answered, “I was arrested and held for several days. No water, hands bound.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not the hero sort and it was pretty scary.”

  Owen said, “She was already troubled by evidence that didn’t match her memories. The tracker insertion was associated with these memories, and removing the tracker along with Grenidor’s subsequent psychological and physiological attack made her more open to recovering her true memories than she had been before. Then she heard me sing. The song was for healing.”

  “For her?” Gabriel asked.

  “Only later. The first few times I sang for myself, and after her arrest, I sang for Niall.”

  “So she benefited by chance?” This from a man standing near the back.

  Owen answered, “The song is a tool, not megdhonia itself, but it does carry some power.”

  Another man spoke from the back. “To clarify, people were detained and received the tracker and a drug cocktail that made them suggestible. Then they were brainwashed while under the influence of drugs?”

  There were nods from around the table.

  Owen said, “I doubt the cocktail was entirely mundane. They have made more advances in magic in the last ten years than in technology. That could account for the persistent effects.”

  There was a silence, and Owen added, “There was something in your brain, too. It wasn’t doing anything, but I sensed it there. Perhaps it used to affect you.”

  “What?” Aria’s voice cracked. “What are you talking about?”

  “I felt it when I removed your tracker. It’s inactive. Maybe it’s broken.”

  She remembered the feel of his icy fingers against her scalp that first night under the bridge. “What did it do?”

  “I don’t know enough to guess. But it wasn’t affecting you. It may have been inactive for years.”

  Gabriel let out a long, slow breath. “Right, then. Did Joshua have one?”

  “No,” Owen said.

  Silence descended on the table for minutes. Someone whispered to someone else in the back, but no one said anything aloud.

  Aria said thoughtfully, “Some people just disappeared.”

  “Perhaps they couldn’t internalize the propaganda they were fed in a way that made sense,” Owen answered, his voice so quiet that several people leaned forward to hear him. “Their worldview wasn’t malleable enough. They couldn’t be manipulated, for whatever reason, so they had to be eliminated.”

  “So I survived because my mind was weak?” Aria frowned.

  Owen smiled slightly. “Call it flexible.”

  Gabriel leaned forward. “So removing the tracker wouldn’t necessarily cause someone to reevaluate the memories. It’s more a result of re-traumatizing them enough to bring up the memories, and then addressing the brainwashing.”

  “Perhaps.” Owen slumped further in his chair.

  “So how does this help us?” Eli asked. “We can’t exactly start kidnapping people and removing their trackers, and it sounds like that wouldn’t help much anyway.”

  Gabriel nodded. “And I suspect that if we were the ones to traumatize them, it might be less effective at establishing our position as the good guys.”

  Owen’s lips twitched, as if he wanted to smile. He propped his head on his fist, eyes half-closed. Gabriel glanced at him and frowned. “We’ll discuss this more later. Think on our options.”

  Owen didn’t move as they filed out around him, though his eyes drifted closed.

  “Are you awake?” Gabriel asked.

  He grunted softly.

  “You’re staying tonight, aren’t you?”

  He grunted again, an ambiguous sound, but then murmured, “We have more to discuss.” He straightened with some effort and fixed his cool blue eyes on Gabriel. “I brought you valuable information. It isn’t free.”

  “I expect not.” Gabriel inclined his head.

  “I want fifteen of your men with me when I go against the Eastborn Imperial Security Facility next week.”

  Gabriel grimaced. “Fifteen is a lot.”

  “If we succeed, it could be important. For both of us.”

  Gabriel sighed and looked away for a moment, but Owen’s eyes did not waver. Finally, he murmured, “You’re right. We are stronger together. And I expect your fight and mine are not unconnected.”

  “Agreed.”

  Dinner was another silent meal. Aria ate with Gabriel and a different selection of soldiers. I bet he rotates who he eats with, so no one feels slighted. Savvy, actually.

  “Why didn’t any of you ever have trackers?” Aria spoke up tentatively. “I thought everybody got them.”

  One of the women answered. “We lost the war, but we never conceded. We hid. We didn’t know what they were doing, but we knew we wanted no part of it.”

  Aria frowned at her plate. “I have most of my memories
back, I think. There aren’t too many empty spots, anyway. But I still don’t really remember why there was a war. I don’t think I ever really understood, even at the time. There was so much propaganda even before the brainwashing, we never really understood which side was which, or what they were fighting about.”

  Heads turned toward her. “What quadrant were you in?”

  “North.”

  The woman sat back. “Ah.”

  Aria blinked at her. “What? What does that mean?”

  “North Quadrant is the Revolution’s home turf. They’d co-opted all the radio and television stations, Wi-Fi signals, bookstores, everything for quite a while before they made a move openly. You probably got your trackers earlier too.”

  “Where are we now?”

  “East Quadrant. Just barely. But patrols are less frequent here, so it helps. They’re still consolidating power.”

  “So why was there a war?”

  “Power. It’s always power.” The woman took a drink from her canteen. “They wanted the power to tell people whatever they wanted. Arrest and detain people without going through the legal processes, declare war against the Outlanders for no legitimate reason, remake all the infrastructure to their own ends. Medical, legal, political, education, everything. It was like a new regime, except they started before they held all the power. We fought back. When people were captured, they disappeared for a time and then reappeared, suddenly compliant. We didn’t know why or how, but slowly our efforts fell apart as everyone went along with it.”

  One of the men said, “The war began before we even realized it. It started slowly. The guns and tanks were desperation near the end, when we’d already lost but we didn’t know it yet.”

  “So you all hid?”

  “We haven’t given up.” Another soldier spoke from across the table.

  “Were you all soldiers?”

  “No. The soldiers were brainwashed first. A few of us escaped, mostly Special Forces. Tell her.” The man gestured.

  “I was a journalist.”

  “Information security.”

  “Dentist.”

  “Programmer.”

  “Orthopedist.”

  “Middle school teacher.”

  Aria blinked. They all looked like soldiers now.