The Root

by Na'amen Tilahun

  Erik mulled this over. “So who stops them?”

  “All of us. Some team up with the Organization like Elliot and Elana and Daya, and some work on our own.”

  He nodded, taking all the new information in. “Is the girl safe?”

  “Yeah. Daya and Elliot retrieved her. You’ll see her later and train alongside her.”

  “So you took her instead of them?” The accusation clear in his voice.

  “Well, the Organization did. With the full knowledge and permission of her parents. She will train every weekend here alongside you until her powers are under control. Then she will return to her parents with a Counselor to monitor her and watch out for her until adulthood.”

  “That is better, I guess,” Erik grumbled. Although what wasn’t better than being sold out by the government that was supposed to protect you? Then again, the girl had brown skin, and Erik knew from experience you didn’t last long as a brown person in America believing the government actually cared for you.

  Matthias snorted. “Well, if you don’t consider the fact that most of those they ‘save’ end up joining the Organization when they turn eighteen. They’re constantly reminded that they were rescued, never allowed to forget it, and then they think they owe everything to the Organization.” His voice steadily rose as he talked until he was almost but not quite yelling.

  A soft voice interrupted him.

  “I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”

  They both turned to watch Elliot enter the room followed by three new people. An Asian man with graying hair and creased tan skin wearing a simple but stylish charcoal gray suit moved into the doorway and no farther, watching Erik with suspicion. The two women—a tall Latina woman whose white-streaked dark hair bun did not match the flawless smooth youth of her golden skin wearing a gorgeous white wrap dress, and a shorter Black woman with a large Afro, red on the edges, wearing a red suit jacket over a black button-down and blue jeans—were forced to go around him. Well, the taller woman went around, the shorter woman stuck out her hip, and deliberately knocked the man into the door jam as she passed. The two women were also looking at Erik with blank expressions, though after a moment the Black woman smiled at him and he returned it.

  “Erik, these are Maestro Hu, Maestra Luka, and Blooded Patrah. They will be staying here on the weekends with the rest of us.” Elliot introduced, nodded at each in turn.

  The Maestro was busy splitting his glare between Matthias, Patrah, and Erik himself. The Maestra was more composed, no emotion crossing her features. Meanwhile Patrah’s smile had slowly grown and she was now looking between Erik and Matthias with undisguised glee.

  Erik narrowed his eyes at all three of them. Considering what he’d overheard only a few minutes ago, he was fairly sure they were there to watch him.

  “And who will they be training?” Matthias’s voice was sharp enough to cut flesh from bone. Erik didn’t know the reasons for the tension in the air but he liked that someone was on his side. Or at least against the Organization, which, given the wariness he was feeling, amounted to the same thing.

  The Maestro and Maestra were now both looking at Matthias but it was Elliot who answered.

  “Patrah will be training Melinda and Daya and I will be training Tae. The Maestro and Maestra are just here to observe.”

  “And if Erik and myself have no wish to be observed like a museum exhibition?” Matthias’s voice went even deeper, rougher, more dangerous. His voice echoed around the room, though Erik felt sure the tiny room was not large enough for that.

  Elliot was at a loss for words though the Maestra was certainly not.

  “Enough of this, we know that mistakes were made with—”

  “You don’t—” The booming of Matthias’s voice filled the room, the air pressure shifting until the room felt like it was filled with molasses.

  Erik suppressed the urge to giggle as the pressure tickled against his skin, even under his clothes. All the smaller sounds in the room were muted and Matthias stretched in Erik’s vision, becoming something large and made almost entirely of shadow. The other people in the room did not look amused at all. Except for Elliot, who was sporting a wide, mad grin.

  The Maestres looked scared and nervous and Patrah simply stared at Matthias, frustration radiating off her. Then as quickly as it had started it was over, the feeling sucked from the room as if someone had pulled a drain. Erik could hear again and Matthias panted loudly and swallowed hard on the bed. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter and lower but no less dark or angry.

  “You do not have the right to say their names. Do you understand me?”

  The Maestres simply nodded before turning to leave the room in unison. They paused as they noticed their shared movement and then frowning, moved again, turning away from one another as completely as possible. Though Erik had seen something like guilt in their eyes as they stared at Matthias, they said nothing as they left the room.

  Elliot was grinning again, so many of his teeth visible Erik worried his lips would crack open. He sauntered over to the bed and plopped down next to Matthias. Patrah took a few steps closer herself and cocked her head to the side.

  “I feel refreshed.” Elliot was bouncing in place and when Erik looked closer, he could see his whole body was vibrating slightly. His dark eyes were wide, spinning pools of shadow. And it was hard to pick out among the sickly fluorescent lights, but his skin seemed to also be glowing slightly.

  “Of course you do. I’m exhausted, as I’m sure Matty here is.” Patrah responded.

  “Hey, Patty.” He panted between every word but reached out to dap her.

  She leaned against the frame of the bed and Erik narrowed his eyes at her and Elliot before turning back to Matthias.

  “If you hate the Organization so much, why do you have so many friends in it?”

  Matthias winced. “Most Blooded end up training with the Organization unless they have another older Blooded willing to take them on, which is happening less and less. I’m from the Bay originally. Elliot, Elena, and Daya were all training at the same time as me and Patrah was a specialist brought in to work with us on meditation and focus.”

  Erik looked at them all again. Elliot and Matthias both looked like they were only a few years older than him but Patrah looked beyond that, in her early thirties at least.

  “And my mama?”

  “Well, I was bounced around a lot of Counselors for a while. Your Grandma Hettie trained me for a while. I met your mother through her.”

  “You’re not that much older than me though; how come I never met you?”

  “You were Los Angeles with your father, just starting to act, and Yida was going back and forth, remember?”

  Erik nodded distractedly, deciding to ask his mom for any further details. Instead he asked another question that had been bothering him. “So . . . why is Elliot glowing?”

  Patrah snorted, “’Cause your Counselor here was stupid and let his power free—raw and undirected.” Her voice switched to a smoother cadence, one Erik associated with teachers. “Most Blooded only use it when they have no other choice because, one, it lets your enemies know exactly how strong you are, and two, it drains you as much as everyone else. We’re tired because our bodies expended power to stop him overwhelming our senses completely. It’s an automatic reaction.” She gestured toward Elliot with a curled lip. “And the reason he’s high right now is that he and Matthias have enough crossover that he just absorbed what he could. Now he has way too much power under his skin and he’s enjoying the rush.”

  “You’re high right now?” Erik directed his incredulity at Elliot who simply shrugged his shoulders and giggled. Erik could understand the need for a little chemical refreshment from time to time, but getting high off the power under your skin was new to him.

  He sort of wanted to try it.

  “So why aren’t I exhausted or high?”

  All movement stopped and Erik realized he’d said something odd.

&nbs
p; “You felt nothing?” This from Matthias who if he wasn’t quite panting anymore was definitely still breathing deep. His skin, which Erik had noted was a deep golden-fawn more than tan, had a pronounced gray cast to it, but his dark eyes were still bright and curious.

  “I felt something . . . thick against my skin but it sort of tickled. It didn’t feel like it was fighting to get in or anything.”

  “Interesting.” Patrah sounded curious but Erik didn’t know her well enough to guess what she was really thinking.

  “Yes.” Matthias just studied him. Erik was looking for a way to change the subject when Matthias slumped back in bed, strength and energy gone.

  “Here, I can help out with that.” Elliot giggled and climbed cross-legged onto the bed near Matthias’s head. He laid his palm against Matthias’s cheek. Some of the light and the giddiness, the too-bright smile drained out of Elliot, though he still sparkled. The effect on Matthias was more dramatic: a wash of color filled his cheeks, his breathing was easier, and he sat up straighter.

  “So how long is this training going to be? And will I be able to do things like that at the end of it?” Erik asked. He was still unsure about the Organization and these Angelics, but he didn’t feel at all ambiguous about the feeling that had raced through his body while he fought. He had felt right, not because he was fighting but because of the power flowing through him, the connection he’d felt to this body, to the world while it had moved through him.

  He wanted that all the time.

  Patrah answered. “As for what you can do—all Blooded are more durable and can release their powers in a burst as Matthias did. Other than that, everything will depend on your bloodline and what you can do with it. The length of training depends. The goal is to get you enough control that you don’t accidentally kill someone or expose us. This can vary because of the nature of the power, the strength, and the Blooded’s ability to concentrate. For some it only takes a day, some weeks, some months. Normally you would be isolated until then, but you have a very specific set of problems.”

  He nodded. They knew his history. He didn’t know how much but it saved him an explanation and no one was treating him differently, so he called it a win.

  “So we’ll have you here on the weekends. If anyone asks, you’re in a special tutoring program.”

  “What about school?”

  Patrah spared him a look. “We’ve managed to keep Bastion and Melisande, or Harry and Melissa—”

  “Ha! I knew their real names were some basic-ass shit!” Erik smiled.

  Patrah returned it before dropping back into stern teacher mode.

  “Well, we’ve stopped the families from pressing charges.”

  “They started it.” Erik shrugged. “As mama says—don’t let your fist write a check that your ass can’t cash.”

  “But we were unable to convince the school to not expel you.”

  Erik tried to find it in himself to care, but this past semester and a half had been miserable. He’d made no friends except for Nurse Dan, and he obviously didn’t need what they were teaching. One thing did worry him, though.

  “How exactly did you ‘fix’ the problem?”

  Patrah shrugged. “Don’t know, the Organization took care of it.”

  “Well, that’s fucking ominous. I mean, I don’t give a shit about Harry and Melissa, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t like when things are done in my name without any explanation.”

  Patrah frowned and looked at Matthias, who simply spread his hands and shrugged. “Sounds valid to me.”

  Patrah made a noise of frustration. “I don’t know exactly what they did. The Organization has a lot of options. Sometimes it’s money, sometimes favors . . . sometimes powers.”

  “Powers . . . like telepathy?” Erik tensed. The idea of someone controlling or reading his mind made him nervous and angry; the power flared under his skin and he felt the urge to beat the shit out of something. He broke out in a cold sweat as he pushed it back.

  “No, not exactly.” Patrah grimaced at Matthias like this was all his fault, but he simply smiled and said, “You’re the one who started this conversation.”

  “Asshole. We don’t have telepaths but there are charmers—people it’s easy to trust, easy to listen to—but they aren’t able to change your thoughts, just influence them. From what we’ve figured out, most of the telepath lines were deliberately hunted down.” She sounded sad as she said that.

  Erik could understand that, genocide was never okay, but the idea of telepathy just hit all his buttons for some reason. “Okay, well. Sorry, not sorry.” Erik had another thought. “What exactly do you do with the Blooded who can’t learn control?”

  Patrah answered him in the same level voice but the pause let him know the question had taken her by surprise. “It depends on the problem. Often it’s a matter of more training so the person has better control.”

  “Often? And the other times?”

  Now Patrah was silent and even Elliot refused to meet Erik’s eyes. Matthias leaned his head back and closed his eyes. It took Erik a few seconds before he realized that none of them had any intention of answering.

  “They’re put down?” He clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms and blood dripped. It was better than punching the shit out of Patrah and Elliot. Even if he thought it might feel good, he was in their space and it would be rude.

  “No!” Elliot’s denial was fast and hard but lacked conviction.

  Erik calmed and looked back and forth between them. “You don’t know, do you?”

  “No, they don’t. Sometimes they reappear, but they’re never the same. The Organization does something to them.” Matthias said this without raising either his voice or his head. It was simply a statement of fact.

  “They all voluntarily go.” Patrah’s voice was quiet.

  Matthias’s head snapped up, his face weary, the pain and hurt etched into it, aging him from his twenties to his forties and then onto the verge of death.

  “What is volunteering when you are told by people you trust that any other decision you might make would be wrong? Is it volunteering when you are promised help and a return and get neither? You know better.” He looked set to say more but all at once his face simply fell, all animation leaving it. “I think I’d like you all to leave my room.”

  Erik was immediately on his feet but Matthias reached out and touched his arm, gesturing for him to sit. He nodded. He barely knew this man but he was blunt and honest. He could trust that more that any of these other people.

  With nods of goodbye Elliot and Patrah left, closing the door behind them.

  “What exactly have I gotten in the middle of?” Erik’s voice was quiet.

  “A war, an escalating war.”

  “Huh.” Erik was glad he was sitting, because his knees seemed to have gone liquid.

  “We’ve never known what the Angelics want, why they take our people—non-Blooded and Blooded alike. Maybe they think of this world as a playground, maybe they want us for breeding, maybe they have reasons we can’t fathom. However, it’s gotten more frequent lately. The Organization has had several Blooded go missing on sensitive missions recently. They’ve even had whole safe houses go dark. They haven’t shared this with the independents or their newer members yet but they’ll have to soon. I only know because of my connections.” Matthias paused and looked at the door Patrah and Elliot had exited through. “People have already noticed the larger numbers of non-Blooded disappearing. Some are returned but they’re . . . different. Not in a way that we can easily define; they move smoother, think faster, are just a little bit less human. Every test we give them says they’re the same person but they aren’t. Those who were close with them always notice.”

  “Okay . . . okay.” Erik groped for something else to say but his mind was still processing the fact that he’d somehow become a foot soldier in a war he hadn’t known about twenty-four hours ago. “But . . . you’re not part of the Organization right? And
neither am I?”

  “True. But everyone is a target. They used to mostly take non-Blooded, but more and more Blooded, both from the Organization and independents, have been going missing as well.”

  “What the fuck kinda name is the Organization anyway?”

  Matthias laughed. “It’s shorthand for the Organization of Drum and Fire.”

  Erik nodded and quietly asked, “What are you doing about the missing people?”

  “Nothing to do but to figure out why it escalated and try and shut it down once and for all. I’m tired.” Matthias let out a sigh and laid back on the bed, maneuvering so that half of it was free in a clear invitation. Erik had just woken up and wasn’t tired, but he did have a lot to think about, and better to do it in here with the one person he had a little trust for than out there among people who owed allegiance to this seriously funky group. As soon as he lay down the lights in the room dimmed.

  “I have more questions, you know.” Erik said into the quiet dark.

  A hand flopped onto this face and patted his lips. “Questions later, now it’s shush time.”

  Erik couldn’t help but smile even if it faded quickly as he stared up into the darkness, turning over everything he still didn’t know in his mind.

  Why hadn’t his mom ever mentioned any of this to him? What would his life be like now? The constant worry of being snatched, of someone close to him being taken? Always wondering when his next fight would be?

  More and more questions appeared but none were accompanied by any answers.

  PATRAH

  Patrah glanced back for a last glimpse of Matthias and his aspirant as the door closed behind her. She turned to Elliot, who still looked lit, pupils blown and his lips turned up in a wide smile. At least he wasn’t glowing anymore and had stopped fidgeting his fingers into odd cat’s cradle positions.

  “Where do I know him from?”