“If he’s stealing, where’d he get the money for a good lawyer?” Jen asks.
“Three guesses,” I say. “Starts with a ‘p.’ Thanks, Wayne. It confirms a few rumors. Unfortunately, I’m still no closer to finding him.”
“My next stop was to check real estate holdings,” Wayne says. “But I doubt anything will come up if he’s broke.”
“Still, worth ruling out. All right, Alejandro and I need to pick up a few things at the apartment, and attempt some protection measures. What’s your address, Wayne?”
“I’m coming too,” Jen says while Wayne scribbles on scrap paper.
“Are you my bodyguard today?” I don’t know what she thinks she’ll do, but I appreciate the gesture. Alejandro’s lauvan sway at Jen’s words. “You’re always welcome, but you’ll have to take your own car. Mine’s full.”
“I hate two-seaters.”
***
I don’t bother protecting Jen, since Drew has been single-minded in his attack on me thus far. On the way to the parking lot I instruct Alejandro to pick up fist-sized rocks.
“For what?”
“You’ll see. Actually, you won’t. I’ll construct a barrier of lauvan from the rocks for the car. If your grandfather’s research is correct, the earth lauvan of the rocks should act as a deterrent to the air lauvan, since they are opposite elements.”
“Do you think it will work?”
“I have no idea. Are you sure you don’t want a ride with Jen?”
“I won’t leave you alone.”
Those words mean more to me than I can express, so I wordlessly pat him on the shoulder, then point at a few likely-looking specimens.
“There are a few rocks. Take as many as you can carry.”
When Alejandro lifts a rock in each hand, silvery-brown lauvan form from nothing and coil around each rock.
“Perfect. I’ll take these ones.”
A few students sitting on the grass nearby look curiously at us, but I ignore them and place rocks in my satchel. When it bulges under the unaccustomed weight, we walk to the car and unload rocks into the trunk.
“Now what?” Alejandro waits expectantly.
“Now I get to work.”
I tease the silvery-brown strands from around each rock until I hold a thick bundle of lauvan in my hand. I twist the bundle to ensure each lauvan won’t slide back to its rock, then wrap the end of each around a different lauvan of the car. Although the car is motionless, there is plenty of potential energy waiting to be unleashed, and the abundance of gray strands reflects that.
It takes a few minutes to complete my lauvan net over the car, especially since I keep checking over my shoulder for incoming gusts of wind. The net stretches over the roof and down the hood, leaving the sides free. Alejandro watches me carefully.
“You don’t want to cover the sides?”
“It’s a deterrent, not a complete barrier. I don’t have enough rocks for that. It’s only a test, anyway—if it works, I can get more. Come on, let’s go.”
All is quiet while we drive. I have one eye on the traffic and one on the skies. Before we leave the park to enter the city proper, there is a disturbance in the air above the car in front. It’s a cluster of air lauvan, a gust of wind headed straight for us, and fast. I clench both hands on the wheel.
“Brace yourself.”
The lauvan reach us a second later, but stop shy of the car. They spread out and slide around us like water against the bow of a ship, but avoid touching the net of earth lauvan. They swirl around the car as if hesitant, then disperse in a flurry of translucent threads.
“Has it happened yet?” Alejandro peers out the windshield.
“It worked.” I don’t try to keep the relief out of my voice. Fighting spirits is a whole new world for me and I’m used to knowing everything. “Good old Braulio. I should have given him more credit.”
“He was good at giving himself the credit. You don’t need to worry about that.”
I laugh out loud.
“He was, wasn’t he? Now that this idea worked, I’m eager to try something similar at the apartment. A well-woven earth lauvan barrier at the door should do the trick.”
“Don’t forget windows, and vents.”
“Of course, the vents. Good thinking.”
At the apartment, Jen waits for us in the parking lot.
“We need to collect lots of rocks,” I say. “Here, we can fill my satchel.”
“I have some shopping bags in my trunk. Hold on.” Jen rummages in the back then hands Alejandro a bag. Their hands touch briefly and their lauvan intertwine immediately.
“I like how you didn’t even ask why,” says Alejandro.
“I’m learning to expect the unexpected with Merry these days,” Jen says.
“Less chitchat, more rock collecting,” I say. “As many as we can manage. I want this apartment spirit-tight.”
“Si, señor,” Alejandro says with a hint of insolence. Jen giggles and I throw up my hands.
“Insubordination in the ranks—I’m on my own.”
“Oh, stop being melodramatic. Look, we’re getting rocks.” Jen bends and selects a few from a nearby path.
Once our bags are filled as full as their straining seams can handle, we traipse inside to the elevator. It stops at the ninth floor and I exit first.
“Stay here. I’ll make sure the coast is clear.”
“They’re after you, not us,” Alejandro says. “Let me go first.”
“Much appreciated, but you can’t see all potential dangers. And I don’t want either of you hurt on my account. Don’t worry about me—I’m tough.”
I flash a grin at Alejandro then walk down the hall before he can argue further. The door is closed but not locked, as usual, and no foreign lauvan are in sight. I cautiously push the door open, ready to spring back if necessary, but only silence and motes of dust linger in the still apartment.
I do a cursory check of each room but nothing is out of place.
“Come on in,” I call out. Jen and Alejandro appear moments later, lugging the bags of rocks.
“Poof!” says Jen. “It’s hot in here. Summer heat is nice in moderation. I’d rather be at the beach.”
“It’s not too late.”
“Don’t be silly, Merry. Okay, what do we need to do?”
“Spread a row of rocks under any vent or window that might allow air through. Prop them up somewhat precariously on pillows and books—they won’t have enough lauvan to work with if they don’t have any potential energy. I’ll start weaving the door barrier.”
They get to work without delay and I take rocks out of my satchel to spread beside the front door, piled on a stack of papers that I should really mark soon. The hallway is mercifully empty—I don’t know what excuse I’d make for my hand waving.
I rake my fingers through the lauvan of the assembled rock pile and tease them gently up. There isn’t much to attach them to—the mobile car was easier—but there are a few pale lauvan from the wood of the door that I delicately peel up and twist together with the rock threads. Before long, a fine web of lauvan covers the door. Alejandro appears on the other side, then passes through my barrier easily. The lauvan shudder with his passage, but remain intact. Alejandro joins me in contemplation of my handiwork.
“I would say it looks good, but I can’t see anything,” he says. “Are you sure you haven’t been relaxing while we’ve been working?”
“Very funny. No, it’s done. Humans can pass through, but air spirits shouldn’t be able to. If Braulio was right, that is. Now, I’d better do the windows.” I step forward, only to meet a sticky resistance on the threshold.
“What the hell?” I wiggle, but it’s like swimming in tar. All the rock lauvan are attached to my lauvan, and it’s with great difficulty that I tear myself away.
“Hmm. That’s unexpected.”
“What happened?”
“Apparently, the barrier works against me, too.” I tap my foot, thinking. “
It didn’t repel me like it did with the air lauvan. Quite the opposite. What does that mean?”
“That it’s not a very good door if you can’t get through?”
“Damn, that’s true. But not quite what I meant.”
I ponder what the too-effective barrier says about myself, but before I can come to any conclusions, the door beyond mine opens and my neighbor Gary Watson walks out.
“Hello, Merry. I thought I heard you. How are you?”
“Been better, thanks, Gary. I had a break-in the other night, and now we’re figuring out where I can install a better lock.”
Alejandro glances at me but says nothing. Gary’s face wrinkles momentarily with uncustomary worry.
“Nothing taken, was there?”
“Nothing important. I believe it was targeted, so I wouldn’t worry about you and Mrs. Watson. This is Alejandro, by the way. He’s visiting for a few days. And you’ve met Jen before,” I say when Jen peeks through the barrier.
“How d’you do. Merry, I’ve been meaning to have you over for a game. Mrs. Watson bought me a book of chess openings. There’s one, it’s called the Two Knights Defense, I’m itching to try. Come and see, all of you, Mrs. Watson baked cookies this morning. She’s out now, but she surely won’t mind if we eat a few.”
I feel satisfied with the barrier I’ve constructed so far, even though I can’t get through myself. It’s easy enough for me to pull it to the side when I want to enter, and I’m sure it will deter unwanted spirits. Alejandro looks hungry and Jen seems determined to stick to my side, so I accept for all three of us and we file into Gary’s apartment. The floorplan is a mirror image of mine, but there the similarity ends. Where mine is minimal to the point of sparseness, the Watsons have filled every available surface with figurines, photo frames, and knickknacks of every description, lovingly dusted spotless. It’s the product of a long life without the frequent need to move.
Gary waves us to the couch and tosses cookies onto a plate with gusto, but without Mrs. Watson’s sense of presentation. I flip through Gary’s new book while Alejandro discusses games with Gary.
“I’ve played a little chess,” says Alejandro. “But backgammon is what we always played in my family. Sometimes the children had tournaments at family holidays.”
“Ah, backgammon,” says Gary fondly. “Would you believe, my high school had a backgammon club? I was vice-president, played a few tournaments myself. Long before any of you were born, of course. I forgot about that. What a great game.”
“Do you have a board? I could show you my aunt’s prize-winning move.”
“Gary, you never said,” I say. “I didn’t realize I had the opportunity to beat you at another game.”
“Such a cocky young whippersnapper,” Gary says. Alejandro coughs. Jen sniffs and looks around with a frown.
“Do you smell smoke?”
Now that she says it, it’s obvious. The smell of burning wood permeates the air.
“Thanks for the cookies, Gary,” I say hastily. “I’d better check my place. Must have left the stove on.” I leap up and sprint to the hall, where smoke wafts out from my open door. I stop short at the lauvan barrier and hastily rip it to one side. Alejandro and Jen are right behind me and together we charge into the apartment.
There’s a flickering coming from the living room. I burst in and stop, dumbfounded, at the sight of my bookshelf in flames. My bookshelf, which holds the only things that are precious to me. Two birds twitter on the threshold of an open window, then take off in a whirl of air lauvan. I hardly notice.
My sketchbook. My sketchbook is burning.
Someone is screaming and it takes me a moment to realize it’s me. I reach out wildly, blindly, grabbing every lauvan I can reach, my own lauvan spreading like an electrified cloud around me to pull cushions off the couch and make papers fly around the room. I run to the bookshelf but I’m slow, so slow. The corners of my sketchbook are blackening, curling, disintegrating irretrievably. Heedless of the flames, I snatch the sketchbook and hold it in horror—it’s still alight. I can’t stop yelling words in Brythonic, Old Dutch, High German, whatever comes to my tongue to express the panic inside.
A blanket falls over the sketchbook. Strong hands rip it from mine and smother the flames. I stop screaming but now I’m hyperventilating, and my lauvan still create havoc around me. Anything lighter than the table whirls in the air. I fling the blanket aside and snatch the smoldering sketchbook from Alejandro.
I rock back and forth on my knees, clutching the sketchbook to my stomach. Its charred edges crumble under my grip but I can't let go. My lauvan spread out from me in a great fan, reaching out to all corners of the room, wreaking havoc. Books fly off shelves, cups smash, pictures crash to the ground. I don't care. My lauvan control themselves in my despair and I don't bother reining them in. The charred sketchbook fully occupies my attention.
“This is all I have left of them.” My words catch in my throat. “The ones I've loved. This is it.”
Alejandro kneels in front of me. He peers into my face, his own only concerned, not fearful. My eyes see him but his face barely registers. He reaches his hand out and presses it to my forehead, then to my chest.
“They're in here, Merlo. And in here.”
I grind my teeth in my anguish. He doesn't understand. Given the frailty of human memories, I can't keep a picture in my mind of their faces. Without the sketchbook, I'm sure the fragments of memories will drift away and disappear like wisps of fog in the rising sun.
“I can't picture their faces. They'll disappear. And then I'll be left with nothing. Nothing.” My breathing is shallow and rapid. So many years, and I have so little to show for it. Nothing remains. Everyone passes on and leaves nothing behind for me to hold onto.
Alejandro shakes his head and then grips the sides of my head in firm hands, forcing me to look into his eyes.
“Listen to me, Merlo. You don't need pictures in an old musty book. Your loved ones are in your memories, fresh as the day you knew them.”
“They're not,” I snarl.
“Close your eyes.” When I continue to stare at him, my anger and panic likely making my eyes quite terrifying, he gives my head a shake. “Do it.”
I oblige. My heart pounds loudly in my ears and I try desperately to think of some way to restore the lost pages of my sketchbook, even though I know it's impossible. They're lost now, lost forever. I'm adrift on an endless sea with no land in sight and my anchor severed.
“You remember them. You remember all of them. Remember her laugh? Remember when she smiled at you for the first time, and you thought your heart wasn't large enough to hold all the love you had for her? Remember the way her lips pouted when she slept, and you would watch her, trying to memorize every curve of her face? Remember how her hair lifted in the breeze, and the way it felt when you ran your fingers through it?”
Alejandro speaks, and at his words memories surface. Isabella’s infectious laugh and the way her delicate fingers cover her mouth as if she tries to stop the laugh from escaping. Emmanuelle in the market, her arms elbow deep in a barrel of fish and mine wrestling a chicken, and our mutual smiles of embarrassment and humor. Edith sitting in a meadow of wildflowers after our lovemaking, her brown hair loose from its customary braids and flowing in a cascade of chestnut waves over her bare shoulders as we kiss.
I take a deep breath that makes my entire body shudder. They are still there, all of them. I may have lost my physical reminder of their lives, but no one can take them away from my thoughts. My panic drains away from my body in a great rush and I feel my lauvan release their grip from various objects around the room. I drop my head to Alejandro's shoulder. My erratic breaths take a long time to quiet.
When I’m calm, I lift my head wearily from Alejandro’s shoulder and look around. Jen grips the door frame with a cautious look on her face, surrounded by the debris from my loss of control. Papers litter the floor, the contents of Alejandro’s duffel bag lie strewn across the
room, and lamps are knocked over. I turn my attention back to the sketchbook. Carefully, tenderly, I wrap the blanket around the crumbling edges and tuck the bundle under my arm. Then I stand.
“Drew sent me a message, loud and clear.” My voice is hoarse. “This bookshelf contains the only things in the apartment with an obviously sentimental value.” I clench my fists and my voice grows louder. “He’s trying to fuck with my head. But nobody, nobody does that to me and gets away with it.”
“So, what do we do now?” Jen looks scared, but determined.
“We go to Wayne’s, see if he has any more leads on that whoreson’s whereabouts. And close that window—we don’t need another possessed bird in here.”
“Was that what happened?” Alejandro says while Jen picks her way across the room to the window.
“They were under control, certainly. Why the hell was it open, anyway?”
“I’m so sorry, Merry.” Jen holds her hands to her mouth in remorse. “It was me. The apartment was so hot, and I wasn’t thinking—I can’t believe it, after what happened at the university. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s done, and now you know better.” There is nothing to be gained from berating Jen, although the thought of my charred sketchbook pains me like a spear through my heart. “Give me a few minutes to put barriers over the vents.”
My hands tremble slightly as I tease apart rock lauvan, but now it’s less from panic and more from anger. Drew is getting too close, pushing too many buttons, crossing too many lines. An attempt on my life is one thing—an attack on my memories is quite another. It’s time to end this. I only wish I knew how. It’s a strangely impotent feeling to have an enemy at a distance, like swinging at an attacker while blindfolded.
When the vents are covered by a translucent net of silvery-brown lauvan, I gather my essentials—change of clothes, toothbrush, razor, and the like—and go to the door where the others wait silently. Jen puts a tentative hand on my arm and I squeeze it gently in return. Alejandro has a bag of flour from my kitchen and sprinkles a thin layer over the tiles of the entryway.
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