The Enlightened

by Dima Zales

  “Thomas. I’m so glad I reached you.”

  “Darren? What a pleasant surprise.”

  “Are you in town?” I ask. When we last spoke, he was planning on taking a vacation too.

  “Got back two days ago,” he says. “Unlike you, I didn’t have a good reason to stay away.”

  “In that case, I could really use your help. My mom is in the hospital and needs protection. It’s related to that matter we spoke about when we first met...”

  “You mean that unfinished business with one of us?”

  “Right.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Staten Island University Hospital,” I tell him.

  “I’ll have a few Secret Service agents there shortly, and someone to Guide the operation, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do.” I try not to sob with relief. “Thank you. You have no idea how grateful I am.”

  “I’ll see you soon,” Thomas says and hangs up.

  Feeling more hopeful, I go back into the room to check on Lucy.

  Disregarding the oxygen tube, the monitors, and all the other scary hospital equipment, she looks good. At this point, she has some of her color back in her cheeks, as much as her pale Asian complexion allows for, anyway. Her breathing is even smoother now. All her vitals on the monitors look good. She’s basically sleeping, and sleeping pretty peacefully at that.

  I step outside the room again, phase in, catch a nurse, and Guide her to get me a sandwich from the cafeteria. I’m starved, but I don’t want to risk leaving Mom alone for even a few minutes.

  In a weird way, I’m grateful to my Enlightened grandparents for asking Caleb to abduct me. It led to me meeting Mimir—the demigod-like being I spoke with during the Joining with the Enlightened. Thanks to that incident, my mom is alive. If Mimir hadn’t warned me, I’d probably still be figuring out how to deal with the Julia situation. Without the threat of something happening to Lucy, I never would’ve left the Enlightened compound so boldly. Worse, if they hadn’t kidnapped me at all, I’d be on the beach in Miami, oblivious to everything I now know. Lucy would be dead, and I’d never know it was Kyle who was responsible.

  How did Mimir know Lucy was in trouble? He said he knew because I knew. But I didn’t know. Or did I? Did I have all the information necessary to suspect Kyle without realizing that I did?

  As I think, things fall into place.

  Like the fact that the Pusher is a Traditionalist—a fact everyone has mentioned, more than once. Whether part of the Orthodoxy conspiracy my grandparents mentioned or acting as a solo agent, everyone agrees that whoever was after me was likely a Traditionalist, because only a Traditionalist would see my parents’ union as a horrible crime against the old ways.

  And what are Traditionalists like? According to what I was told, they are very... well, traditional... in their views.

  And what is Kyle’s most defining quality? Why did we have so many arguments while I was growing up? Because he’s as traditional as can be.

  This alone, however, doesn’t make Kyle guilty. Nothing in isolation does. I recall the strange phone call Kyle got while he was visiting me at the hospital the day I got shot in the head. After the call, he bailed on Lucy, whom he’d brought to see me.

  Now it occurs to me that the call was probably from Jacob, who told Kyle about my heritage—the reason Jacob had the Russian mob make an attempt on my life that morning. After the call, on his way out, Kyle must’ve Pushed that nurse to try to kill me. Given how willing Kyle was to kill me once he learned the truth, I feel very lucky that my biological mom had Guided Lucy and Sara to go to Israel and pretend that Sara was artificially inseminated with me. I was so mad when I learned about that lie, but Sara pretending to be my biological mother probably saved my life. Thanks to that story, Kyle never suspected I might be anything but an ordinary kid. A kid he’d never tried Guiding, thanks to the taboo on touching children that Liz told me about.

  As I think about it, I realize Kyle probably didn’t even know Margret was ever pregnant. In Lucy’s memories, he began to avoid Mark at some point, likely due to his relationship with Margret. Besides, Mark and Margret seemed to have hidden her pregnancy from most of the world, their OB-GYN being the unfortunate exception. It was that doctor’s records that must’ve given Jacob—Kyle’s Reader partner—that extra certainty that I was Mark’s son, though Jacob might well have tried to have me killed based solely on my resemblance to my dad. How stupid did Kyle feel, with a ‘hybrid abomination’ being under his nose this whole time? Since he’d seen me grow up, it probably never occurred to him to look for any kind of a resemblance to anyone.

  Speaking of resemblance... Kyle also has the same facial features as most Guides. Facial features I also have. I never would’ve realized it without thinking of him in this context, but now, those subtle clues are obvious. This explains why, on some occasions, folks thought Kyle and I were blood relatives. Those people were misled, to a small degree, by these ethnic-like similarities between Guides.

  Then a major realization hits me. The Russian mob. They’re the big clue once you know who the suspect is. Kyle has worked in Organized Crime for decades. That’s how he picked the scariest guys to use as his weapons. He has files on them. Taxpayers have been financing Kyle’s private assassin research for years.

  And finally, my parents’ unsolvable murder leads back to Kyle, or to someone who was similarly close to my parents. I should’ve realized this sooner. According to Hillary, her sister Margret was a very powerful Guide. If a regular Joe Schmoe had tried to kill her, she would’ve made him kill himself instead—or reversed any Push that person had received.

  The only way to kill her was to catch her off-guard, so the killer had to be someone neither of my parents would perceive as a threat. Someone who was close to them. Someone they loved like family. That was the only way someone could’ve shot Margret in the back in her own house—which leaves Lucy and Kyle at the top of the suspects list. And as it turns out, they were both responsible in a weird way. Coward that he is, Kyle decided to use Lucy to do his dirty work. He Pushed her to kill Margret first because she was the more dangerous of the two; she could’ve reversed Kyle’s compulsion in Lucy’s mind, so Kyle had Lucy use the element of surprise.

  If I can come up with this many clues just off the top of my head, I understand how the combined intelligence of the fourteen people who made up Mimir figured out that Kyle was the threat. From there, it must’ve been a small leap to conclude that Lucy was in trouble. Mimir knew Lucy was investigating Mira’s parents’ murder—the murder that was ordered by Jacob, Kyle’s ally. The murder Kyle manipulated the rest of his department into dismissing as mob-on-mob violence.

  Mimir saw the danger the way I should have, but failed to.

  As I chew the tasteless sandwich the nurse brought, I realize that if Lucy had died, I never would’ve forgiven myself for not figuring all this out sooner, for being the one who, thanks to his big mouth, put her in danger in the first place.

  My phone rings.

  “I’m downstairs,” Bert says.

  “Meet me in Room 3 in Intensive Care,” I say. “Say you’re here to visit my mom.”

  He arrives after I finish my food.

  “How is she?” he asks right away. “What happened?”

  “Let’s step out into the hallway,” I say, and as soon as we’re away from any prying ears, I tell him everything.

  “Shit,” Bert says. “I’ve never liked that uncle of yours, but I’m still flabbergasted. To just up and try to kill you as soon as he learned you’re half-Reader, half-Guide? What about all the years he’s known you?”

  “Well, we have one thing in common,” I say darkly. “When I get my hands around his neck, I’ll also forget about all the years we’ve known each other.”

  “And this person, Thomas, he’s a Guide, like Hillary?” Bert looks uncomfortable with my newfound bloodlust.

  “Yes, and about that.” I shift from one foot to another. “Let
’s not tell him you know as much as you do. I trust him and all, but just in case, it’s best he doesn’t find out. For your sake.”

  “Oh, right. Unlike you and Mira, they can’t read my mind,” he says excitedly. “So I can lie.”

  “That’s right. My cover story is that I Guided you to do my bidding.”

  “Yes, Master,” Bert says in his best Dracula’s-worshipful-servant voice.

  My phone rings. It’s Sara. She’s here, so I explain where to meet us.

  “I’m so glad she’s okay,” Sara says when Bert and I enter Lucy’s room. Sara’s face is nearly as pale as Lucy’s, and I see that her hands are trembling. “Can you please explain to me what happened?”

  I phase into the Quiet.

  Hesitantly, I walk over to Sara and enter her mind. The level of anxiety my mom is capable of is insane. If I were this worried, I’d be phasing into the Quiet every few seconds and be barely functional. I debate Guiding her to make her relax, but decide against it. I limit my Guiding to making sure Sara believes the same story as the one I concocted in Lucy’s mind.

  I get out of Sara’s head and Read Lucy. She’s content in her sleep. I don’t experience pain or discomfort, but then again, a sleeping mind isn’t very helpful in gauging someone’s health.

  I phase out.

  “The knife slipped,” I say and tell Sara the story.

  Bert is making eyes at me from behind Sara’s back. Eyes that say, “I can’t believe she’s buying it.”

  When I’m done with the story, Sara launches into her interrogation. “How did you get here so fast? How was Florida? Where’s Mira—”

  “She just opened her eyes,” Bert says, interrupting her barrage of questions.

  Sara goes to Lucy and sits on the edge of her bed, lightly resting her hand on her shoulder. Lucy’s eyes focus on her wife. She looks surprisingly sharp, considering her ordeal.

  “Hi,” she says hoarsely. “Where the hell am I?”

  I explain what she’s already primed to believe. “When I told them ‘officer down,’ they went out of their way to help you,” I conclude.

  “To think of all the ways I could’ve gotten hurt, and this happens on a day I’m off the job,” Lucy says humorlessly.

  “Excuse me,” says a familiar voice through the crack in the door. “May we come in?”

  “Please,” I say, trying to hide my surprise. “Mom, you remember my therapist, Dr. Jackson.”

  “Please, call me Liz,” Liz says predictably. She hates it when I call her anything but that.

  I still can’t believe she’s here. It looks as if Thomas brought her in as reinforcements. Or she might be here to hang with him; they are dating, after all.

  “Hello, Liz,” Sara says, blinking. “What are you doing here?”

  “Darren called me when your wife got hurt,” Liz says. “He was so distraught I thought I’d check in on things. He’s been a patient for years.”

  “Of course,” Sara says. “Thank you so much for coming.”

  “This is my boyfriend, Thomas,” Liz says, pulling Thomas inside the room.

  Both Sara and Bert look at Thomas with fascination. Even Lucy looks over, though her expression is harder to read.

  I wonder if they find the couple’s age difference odd. Liz looks like a hot teacher and Thomas like a student she seduced—only ten years later. I wonder what Sara would think if she knew that on top of everything else, Liz is Thomas’s shrink. Maybe she’s picturing me in Thomas’s shoes. That might be it. Maybe she’s wondering whether my therapist made moves on me when I was a teen. Which would’ve been awesome, by the way.

  My thoughts are interrupted when Thomas pulls me into the Quiet.

  “Are we bringing her in?” I nod toward Liz. “If so, we should probably use my Quiet session, since I have a long story for you.”

  “You decide whom to trust,” Thomas says. “And I appreciate you thinking about my Reach.”

  “It’s okay to bring her. Especially since I now know who the mystery Pusher is. And it’s not Liz.”

  Thomas phases out, and I phase in and bring him in with me.

  Thomas gives Liz a chaste peck on the neck to pull her into the Quiet.

  I proceed to tell them a version of my story, leaving only one thing out—Kyle’s identity.

  “Your poor mom,” Thomas says, looking at Lucy. His usually stern face is a shade warmer. “To be forced to kill her own partner? There’s nothing worse for a cop.”

  “At least she doesn’t remember that,” Liz says. “You were right in that regard. Your other mother looks like she might lose it, by the way. I’d be happy to do a subtle relaxation session on her.”

  “That’s how she always looks,” I say. “But will it make her feel better?” The idea sounds promising, though I feel guilty manipulating my mom’s emotions.

  “What I do puts Xanax to shame,” Liz says with confidence. “And I’ve been testing it on live human subjects for many years. They always come back for more.”

  “In that case, please,” I say. “And in the long term, do you think you can help with Lucy’s baby situation? It’ll probably be a painful shock to just remember she gave up her child like that...”

  Liz nods. “I’ll make sure the doctor advises her to see me after she checks out. And I’ll also make sure she’s receptive to the idea of getting therapy.”

  “You can make her believe it’s for her OCD,” I suggest. “Thank you for this. I really appreciate it.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Liz walks over to Sara and starts doing her Xanax thing.

  “And one more thing,” I say, realizing I can no longer tell Lucy everything. “Can you make her forget to ask me for the explanation I promised her earlier on the phone?”

  “What explanation?” Liz asks.

  “Do you need to know?” I ask. “To make her forget safely and all?”

  “I can do it without knowing, but curiosity is a weakness of mine. You know that.”

  “Then I’d rather not explain,” I say. I’m glad Liz didn’t lie by saying she needed to know, but I still don’t want to admit that I was about to bring my mom completely up to speed, not when I don’t know Liz’s feelings on the matter.

  Liz gives me an analytical look, but doesn’t push the issue. She knows not to bother.

  “So are you going to tell us who did this to her?” Thomas asks.

  If he was trying to defuse the tension in the air, he couldn’t have asked a worse question.

  “Depends,” I say. “What will happen to this person? What’s the plan?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” Thomas says. “Liz?”

  She shrugs. “I’m not sure either. But given that he attacked one of us, I’d say it’s a matter for the Elders to deal with.”

  “What about my mom? What’s the punishment for what he did to her?”

  “If you’re talking about her”—Thomas points at Lucy—“they might not see it the same way as you and I do. She isn’t one of us, so our laws don’t extend to her. If you’re talking about your biological mother, then absolutely, he will have to answer for that murder.”

  “What. Will. Happen?” I ask through clenched teeth, too angry to confront him on the fact that his Elders wouldn’t see what Kyle did to my mom—the rape and the other fucking atrocities he did to her mind—as a violation of their laws.

  “The Elders’ justice is shrouded in mystery,” Liz says. “So we honestly don’t know.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  “What does it have to do with telling us who the Pusher is?” Thomas asks. “Surely you can tell us that?”

  “I plan to kill him,” I say evenly. “And don’t you try to shrink-talk me out of it.”

  Liz gives me a thorough look. “Actually, I think this is a very rare case where I believe action will help you achieve catharsis. So I won’t stop you. ”

  “Whatever you’re planning, I won’t rat you out,” Thomas adds.

  “In that case, his nam
e is Kyle,” I say bitterly. “Liz, you might’ve heard me refer to him as Uncle Kyle.”

  Chapter 19

  “You have an uncle who’s one of us?” Liz asks, her eyes round with surprise. “I didn’t know this.”

  “Neither did I,” I say.

  “There’s only one Guide named Kyle in the city,” Liz says thoughtfully. “Grant.”

  “That’s him. Kyle fucking Grant,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Wait,” Thomas says. “He’s in law enforcement.”

  “You know him?” I ask.

  “Somewhat. Though he never hangs out at the club.”

  “I know him a little better,” Liz says. “And I could easily see him as a Traditionalist. I always knew he had issues, but I never suspected such deep-seated—”

  “He’s a dead man,” I interrupt. “So you don’t need to analyze him.”

  Liz sighs. “I’m sorry,” she says, “but I’m going to have to go back on one thing I said. I don’t think killing him is a good idea.”

  “Why the fuck not?” I snap. Great, now I’m yelling at my shrink.

  “He’s been around you your whole life. He’s been like a father figure to you. Do I need to draw you a diagram?”

  “He stuck around so he could wipe Lucy’s mind at regular intervals,” I explain, my voice tight with anger.

  “That may be true,” Liz says quietly, “but it doesn’t change what you feel about him.”

  “What I feel is that he and I can’t breathe the same air,” I say sharply. “If you want to help, tell me something useful about him.”

  “We didn’t hang with the same crowd,” she says. “I only knew of him because he was a Guide.”

  “Oh shit,” I say as something dawns on me. “That explains it.”

  “What?” Thomas asks.

  “In Lucy’s memory, Mark asks why Kyle disappeared from his life. And now I think I know why. Mark married Margret, who’s a Guide, which means she would’ve recognized him had they met.”

  “That’s true,” Liz says. “She would have known him, though probably only as much as I do. She was obviously—”

  “Wait. It just occurred to me.” I stare at Liz. “You knew my biological mother?”