by Skyler Andra
Raze and I approached the crypt from the side, and he peered in. His eyes flashed red for a second, then returned to normal. He didn’t have magic like Tor or me, but I suspected he had heightened senses and increased durability, because he didn’t get injured as easily as the rest of us. A shake of his head signaled he didn’t see anything inside. Another hand signal communicated a countdown. Then he flung open the crypt door, tearing it off its hinges.
I unleashed a series of tones into the crypt, and the sounds returned quicker than the previous. Clothes and blankets were strewn throughout the crypt. Immediately the pain struck again, and I pressed my hands to the sides of my head.
“Nothing,” I told Raze, and he entered with a long and low growl that sounded inhuman.
“Check the other one.” Raze barged out and marched away.
I followed him into the greenery of the cemetery, heading north.
When we arrived, Raze gave me the signal, and I nodded. We repeated the same actions from the previous crypt. Twisted pictures formed of what I interpreted as more clothes and blankets, but this time I saw the outline of something long and lying on the floor. “A body,” I told him.
He frowned hard as he entered to inspect it.
“We’re too late,” he muttered.
He carried out a shriveled corpse of a woman in his arms, her jeans, shirt and jacket hanging on her shrunken frame. The vampires had bled her dry of her life force. “Dead two days by the smell of it.”
I didn’t know how he knew that, but his abilities intrigued me.
Raze set her down on the grass, dragged his fingers down from her forehead to close her eyes, and said a prayer in his native language. He ended with, “May you return to the great spirit.”
“We’ve found something,” I said into my bracelet.
In a few minutes, Knoxe, Tor, and the new girl appeared.
“Another loose end.” Knoxe kicked the door, and it slammed closed.
Tor ran his hands through his spiked hair.
Raze lit one of the special leaves he carried, running the smoke along her body. “May the smoke carry you home to you ancestors and the great spirit.”
The intention and respect behind his words hit me. A soft and sweet frequency that eased the ache in my skull. Beautiful. I longed to understand it and learn more about his culture, their beliefs in the great spirit and ancestors, but he kept it very secretive, only revealing a bit at a time.
Astra squinted and touched an orange stain on the pale crypt’s floor. “There’s more of that goo. Has anyone got a tissue?”
Her voice, a combination of a harp and flute, also served to sooth my headache. I enjoyed listening to her talk. Except when she spoke to Knoxe at training, where her voice changed, dark and harsh, like the beat of war drums.
Light caught the orange streaks in Astra’s hair, reminding me more of the Sable Assassin, in her outfit. Earlier, I’d said she didn’t look as good as the comic character. She looked far better. Big blue eyes. A thin nose. Glasses. Subtle cheekbones. One of the prettiest girls I’d ever seen. At a marking she found on the side of the crypt, her eyes lit up, like crystal waters.
I carried tissues to polish my tuning forks. “Here.” I handed her one and she smiled.
“Thanks.” She collected a sample.
Knoxe came up behind her. “Let’s get it back to the lab for testing.”
****
“You alright, buddy?” Tor asked from a few tables away in the mess hall.
I glanced up, not meeting his eyes. “Fine.”
A rush of white noise assaulted my senses. Hard, scattered, no rhythm, like heavy metal. Noises of prisoners chatting, plates scraping, the thud of sentry’s boots as they patrolled the perimeter of the dining hall. A few inmates at another table stared at me. Devon and his crowd. I bent my head, ignoring them. All the movement, the noise, and the upheaval in my routine overstimulated my frayed and confused nerves.
Desperate, I switched on my music, and turned up the volume of my cell phone. An orchestra played Beethoven’s Symphony Number nine. Another flick of the dial increased the song that soothed me and dulled the ache at the back of my skull.
I flicked a crumb off my empty eight-seat table. No one ever wanted to sit with the weird guy. I preferred it that way. It beat having to engage in conversations I had no clue about. A few feet away, my gargoyle pecked at his bowl of stones. I didn’t like him getting to close either. I didn’t like anyone touching me. It hurt, made my skin burn, and I only allowed certain people to do it. Those who I trusted, whose touch didn’t sting as much.
Every day, I made sure I arrived at the dining hall before anyone else so no one took my table. I didn’t like anyone touching my things. But the bullies liked Devon and his gang tormented me about it.
I glanced over my shoulder at Raze and Knoxe. They barely tolerated me and only because of my gift.
From the beginning, when the Shadows appointed me to Knoxe’s team, the leader hadn’t been very accommodating to me. He got frustrated when I didn’t understand him and needed more detail on a mission. The whys and how’s. Jaz had bridged the gap between us because he’d had an autistic brother and had taught Knoxe how to communicate with me. Our relationship improved once Knoxe took the time to explain things in a way I understood.
That all changed when Jaz was killed. When the Shadows discovered he was exchanging secrets to the Serpents. Something Knoxe denied to this day. Not me. Not Raze. We confessed when interrogated. I’d told the Gildron Council that I’d heard Jaz doing it. Detected the dark frequencies when he contacted them, which made me feel ill and fatigued afterwards. Tor said Knoxe hated me for it.
Now Knoxe didn’t bother to invest the time or patience to understand me. Now that Jaz was gone, I’d lost all hope of being accepted or understood by my team. So, I just did the best I could, even when I didn’t understand.
Over at his table, Knoxe stabbed his fork into the center of his meal, throwing a glare Tor’s way. I couldn’t read Knoxe or Raze’s facial expressions. If I wanted to, I could use my powers to decipher what they were saying and get a sense of their emotion through sound. Jaz had helped me decipher that the light, upbeat, soothing melodies were good emotions, like happiness, gratitude, hopefulness and love. Compared with the heavier and darker tones, like thunder, crashing stone, meant anger, sadness, hate and jealousy. Over time and much practice, I’d come to understand each frequency and its associated emotion through my gift.
Judging by the frequencies of the words they directed at Tor, I’d guess they were discussing him in an annoyed way.
Someone set a tray down at my table, pulled a chair out, and sat opposite me. I startled and my hand slid into my tray.
Astra. She smiled at me and said something. Something bright and melodic which clashed with Beethoven and I couldn’t quite decipher.
I tore off my headphones. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” She cut into her potato, slicing it into even chunks. Then she repeated this with the meat and vegetables. She liked order. Everything had to be arranged on her plate before she could eat it. Something I did with my food.
“You can’t sit here.” I leaned forward, yanking away her tray, and pushing it aside. This was my table. I glanced at the sentries patrolling the hall in a circuit.
“Why not?” Her face scrunched.
I leaned back, distracted by the notes in her voice, like off-key harp strings and flat flute. “Because no one sits here.”
“Because you don’t want them to or they don’t want to?”
I considered her question. “It…it throws me off.”
She twisted her head, studying me with her cerulean eyes, bright behind her purple glasses. “Do you want me to go?”
Yes. I did. And no, I didn’t. I wanted to study people, learn from them; their movements and behavior. I could mimic what I knew. I wanted to know her.
“No,” I admitted, choosing the latter. She had a soothing v
oice, like the tunes I used at night to sleep.
“Good.” She readjusted her tray and took another bite.
I didn’t know what to say to her. I wished I could sing to her. That I didn’t see her in a panel, two dimensional and flat, like a comic book.
“Thanks for helping me out in the training room. Your music calmed them all down.” Astra slid her tray closer, slowly, carefully, watching me. I let her. She had to eat. Me, not so much. I got some energy from the musical frequencies I absorbed. They energized me. Empowered me. That’s why I listened to a lot of classical music. Tor called me a true superhero and I liked that.
I didn’t look at her, but smiled. She knew what I did for her yesterday. “I had to. Knoxe is disturbing everyone’s peace.” His harsh words had caused the pain in my head to intensify.
“You’re not like the others, are you?” She prepared her fork, piling it with a bite of meat, and one piece of vegetable.
“No.” My mouth went dry. Nerves. Discomfort. Astra. I took a quick sip of my coke.
“Autism?” I rubbed my tuning fork harder. The energy swelled, a burst of music, but silent because of the magic dampeners in the prison.
“Yes.” I took another sip. “Autism.”
“And music is your gift?”
“Yes.” I looked up at her. My whole life I’d wanted to be understood. After my mother left me, a couple took me in and loved me. They were patient, took time with me to understand my condition.
She shrugged, eating a piece of meat, coated in peas and gravy. “I know how it feels to be lonely.”
My chest warmed. Strange. Like fire. Hot. I liked it.
“Like you have music, I have math.” Her voice was a melody again. “I ‘feel’ math like it’s something physical, and I turn equations into physical effects. I can reduce a gantii to their chemical composition.”
Most of the Guardians could block attacks, use magic in telekinetic ways, but none had anything near as special as that.
Jaz used to say my powers were well beyond any of the others at the Guild of Guardians. But he never met Astra. Impressive. Special. Skilled and beautiful.
“I can enhance any tone. Lately, I’ve been practicing using them to levitate coins.” No one knew that but her and me now.
“Wow.” Astra rested her chin in her hand. “Would you show me some time?”
I nodded.
She used a forefinger for emphasis. “When nature makes someone different, it makes up for it by giving them a gift.”
“I play piano, too,” I told her. I wanted her to know me. Everything. To keep this warm feeling in my chest and my stomach.
“I could have been the Mozart of Chemistry.” She laughed, and I didn’t understand her joke, but I mimicked her.
“You don’t have to do that.” Her voice changed from light to deeper and firm. “You can be you around me. Okay?”
I nodded, liking even more that she understood me, knew when I wasn’t myself.
“The other things I can do scare people,” I told her. “I went to the Guild of Shadows like you. I had trouble learning the magic and spells. The music helps me direct and concentrate my powers. I like it here better than out there.”
“In a prison?” Astra asked, and I nodded. “I don’t feel like I belong. The rest of the team doesn’t like me. I know I can’t take Jaz’s place, but I hope Knoxe can start seeing me as one of the team.”
“We all miss Jaz.”
“I’m sorry about your friend.” She reached for my hand. “Losing him must’ve been hard.”
I gasped and jerked away. “Don’t touch me.” I didn’t know her or trust her. People I didn’t know and didn’t trust weren’t allowed to touch me.
She pulled back. “Sorry. I forgot.” She glanced up at the sentry who marched down our aisle.
“I don’t forget.” The warm spot was gone now and I was back to myself. “Jaz was nice. Everyone liked him. He was always respectful and he looked out for me. Made Tor leave me alone. I miss Jaz. He helped me communicate.”
Astra nodded as if she understood.
“Jaz made Knoxe smile when all he does was glare,” I said. They could communicate through just a look, a silent understanding of one another. I wish I had that.”
“Me, too,” Astra murmured.
She gulped and took a sip of her water. I copied her and took another sip of my coke then sat it on the table one hand’s length from the edge.
“Does Tor tease you?” she asked.
“Sometimes.” I told her about when I’d joined the Shadows, he tricked me into wearing metal shoulder pads to catch a goblin. The gantii jumped all over me, biting and scratching to eat at the metal. I’d panicked and killed it. I didn’t know what I was doing. Remembering it made me queasy, and I pushed aside my dinner. I took a sip of my coke to steady myself.
“So, he’s a prankster? Got it.” She smiled and took another bite.
This time I smiled back at her because I felt compelled to, not because I mimicked her. “Mostly he makes funny jokes about music or comic books that only we understand.”
On a mission, Tor also watched out for me like Jaz used to. I wasn’t the most coordinated or skilled fighter like Knoxe and Raze. But I held my own with my magic. Few gantii got past me. Only the vampires really challenged me.
“I don’t get on with people,” I admitted. “I’d rather be alone. But I do what Knoxe says, and I help. I don’t fit here, but I don’t fit anyplace else.”
Astra pushed away her food and curled her arms on the table. “You belong as much as I do.”
“We’ll find our place.” I was grateful to have someone who understood me, who talked to me, even if she expressed friendship with a touch.
“Ya’ finally found some’n who wants ta’ sit with ya’, huh sonar boy?” A voice interrupted our discussion.
Devon and his cretins stood at the end of the table.
Not this guy. Bad news. The last time he started trouble, we got into a fight, and I didn’t want a repeat. The warden told us no more trouble, and I really want to spend another night in The Hole. Had been there three times already. An unpleasant experience. I couldn’t sleep there. They took away my music, and all the sounds tortured me. Dramatic devil music with chanting, screeching violins, clashing cymbals and deafening trumpets.
“Ya’ don’t even sit wit ya’ boyfriend.” Devon’s shout brought me back to the moment. “Dis bich must be special. Isn’t ya boyfriend jealous?”
They always called Tor my boyfriend, which he was. A male friend.
“Tor’s over there.” I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder. “Ask him.”
They all snickered.
Astra stared at me. “You and Tor?”
The same look I got from everyone. I sagged. Just when I thought someone understood me. “He watches my back like Jaz used to.”
Devon and his cretins guffawed. I frowned, not understanding why they found this so funny. “Watches your back all right.”
Tor was a guy which made him one of my male friends. Astra wasn’t my friend yet. I didn’t know her or trust her yet. But when I did, she’d be my friend too.
“Get back in your seats,” one sentry barked.
Devon lifted his empty tray. “Just on my way to take this back.”
The sentry narrowed his eyes at him but didn’t move.
Devon clamped his hand down on my shoulder.
“Don’t touch me.” I squirmed, grabbing his wrist, cracking it as I pried it off me. Devon yelped.
“Well, if she can sit with ya.” He spun a chair around. “Guess that means we can sit here too.”
His whole gang sat too.
The symphony in my head rose to a fever pitch, shrieking, slashing violins, and I grabbed the side of my head. “This…is… my… table.”
Angry drums pounded against my skull. I fisted my hands. Astra’s plates and mine started to rattle, and her eyes widened.
“I told you to keep moving,” the sentry lifted hi
s baton and approached the table.
Tor moved with him, and I held up my hand. I didn’t want him here. He’d only make things worse. “Knoxe said you’re not allowed to hit Devon.”
Devon chuckled, ignoring my request to be left alone with Astra. “Ey, new gal. Ya’ made up ya’ mind about my proposal yet?”
“No.” She put her palms over the rattling knife and fork.
“Get off my table,” I growled.
The plates rattled harder, the food bouncing off. My Coke can tipped over, spilling brown liquid which dripped off the edge of the table.
Astra glanced at them, then me, then her bracelet.
“Leave us alone!” she shouted. “Can’t you see you’re upsetting him?”
Devon clutched his stomach and let out a raucous laughter that grated my nerves. “Ya need a bich to rescue ya’, Pascal.”
One of his cronies thumped me on the back of my head.
“Don’t do that.” I squeezed my fists tighter.
I cringed at the harshness of his words and tone.
Astra grabbed her butter knife and slashed it through the air. “Get lost. Now!”
“Whoa.” Devon laughed.
Tor came over now, sandwiching Devon and his cretins between us. “The lady asked you nicely. Now fuck off.”
The sentry grabbed Devon by the arm and dragged him out of the chair. “Get the fuck out of here. Now!”
“Ya’ll regret dat.” Devon’s threat at Astra, Tor and I was made of dark notes.
Chapter 18
Knoxe
“You wanted to see me, sir.” I stood in front of the warden’s desk, old wood, leather inlaid with gold stitched to the top, covered by a glass screen.
He leaned forward, plucking a container of pills from his pocket. “Heard about the confrontation in the mess hall last night.”
Nomical had threatened the second in command of the prison’s gang with a disposable wooden butter knife, adding to the tensions between Devon and my group. Then Tor had jumped in even though I’d ordered him not to, forcing Raze and I to come to their defense. That drew the attention of the prison sentries, and they swarmed us. Devon and his crew backed off. For now.