by Sin Ribbon
He holds up the keys, confused. “But Allister’s flight touches down in a couple hours. How will you pick him up if we’re not back by then?”
The redhead shrugs. “I’ll get him an Uber. I’d rather you kids have a fast getaway in case things go south.” She narrows her eyes. “Don’t scratch it.”
Sebastian gulps. “Yeah, I see your point. Thanks.”
The trio grab their respective light cardigans and jackets. Despite the warming weather, the stubborn, dark clouds outside hardly inspire a summery atmosphere.
Riya and Madison ready themselves by the door, each scratching Sirius to lift their spirits before they leave. Orion gives them a wave good-bye from the kitchen while Siha stands by the entrance to see them off.
Sebastian adjusts the collar of his jacket as Riya and Madison head out into the hallway. He pauses before stepping out, looking to Siha. “Any advice you’d like to give me about approaching these two?”
She tilts her head, thinking. “Wear sunglasses.”
The Brit cocks a quizzical eyebrow as the brunette ushers him out the door with a bolstering smile.
~ THIRTY-EIGHT ~
Siha
The brunette takes a seat on the ragged carpet and scoots into the doorframe, huddling her knees into her chest as she leans against Thane’s shut door.
Orion walks into the hall and looms over the cellist. She stirs a cup of tea with a spoon. “Think you can get him to talk, huh?” She blows the steam away.
Siha tilts her head upward to meet the redhead’s skeptical gaze. “He doesn’t have to. I’m here to talk to him.”
Orion lets out a dry chuckle, her gesture of support caught somewhere between hope and cynicism. Without a word, she moves into the living room and flops onto the couch. Sirius whines briefly before following his master.
“Thane ...” Siha rests her head on Thane’s door, her brown hair bunching up against it. “You don’t have to listen to me if you don’t want to, but I want to talk to you. I was hoping ... we could finish our conversation from the café.”
She hears no noise on the other side. “That photo you keep on your dresser, it’s normally face-down, isn’t it? But you’ve been looking at it.”
The bed creaks. She brightens. “If you don’t mind, would you look at it again?” More creaking follows. “I know you feel responsible for what happened to Cole. That’s a feeling I can’t take away from you, and I wouldn’t want to. Your suffering has made you into someone I wouldn’t want to change.”
“... What am I looking for?” His voice is weak, overtaxed from crying.
Her eyes water. “Just ... look at it for a moment.” She traces one thumbnail under the other, picking at the dirt there to distract herself. “I lost family too, including a little brother. I don’t have a photo, but I remember his smiling face so clearly, just like Cole’s in that picture.”
His footsteps move from the bed towards the door. She hears the rustling of him sitting down on the other side. “All I see is the lifetime of joy I robbed from him. Even if it wasn’t me, I could’ve ...” His words choke into silence.
“I felt that way ... watching Calvin die. You understand better than most that life can take away what we love, but there are things that grow from that pain ... gratitude, strength, understanding, and you cultivated those qualities.”
A moment of stillness hovers between them until he finds his breath. “I was all that was left. I didn’t want the last piece of mom, of Cole, to wither away. Broken as I was ... I wanted to believe there was a future for me.”
“I believe too ... in a future for all of us beyond the will of the Fates. I know you want to carry the responsibility for what they do on your shoulders, so I’m asking you, let us help you lift it.”
“Siha ... even with your help, I don’t know how to move forward from this. Hundreds dead ... I can’t ...”
“By taking one breath and then another. One footstep, then one more.” She traces her fingers over the door. “Thane, I know you still believe in that future, even now. There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop what happened.”
“I heard what you said to Orion.” The volume of his voice rises, straining past his growing anguish. “You really think you were justified not to warn me?”
“Thane.” The brunette thumps her head on the doorframe, flustered. “Besides drowning you in fear, it wouldn’t have spared any more lives.”
“But I could’ve left the city, driven out into the country. Something! Anything to get away from as many people as possible ...”
“And he would’ve brought you right back. I told you, they’re the deciders. The Fates kill who they want to kill and spare who they want to spare.”
He groans with a heavy exhale. “There has to be something ... some way to fight them.”
“You’re fighting them right now, and we’re here fighting with you.”
He jostles on the other side. “And do we win?”
“I don’t know ...” She sighs. “But the alternative is much grimmer.”
His voice sharpens. “I have no intention of giving in.”
She smiles. “I know.”
The door opens, causing Siha to fall to the side. She catches herself as Thane’s dark eyes greet her. He slumps against the doorframe, legs sprawled outward. His eyes are red, puffy, with hair folded in all directions. His wrinkled, black t-shirt and dark jeans are the same he wore at the café the day before.
He reaches out and pulls the clairvoyant in for a hug. Stunned, she blushes but happily circles her arms around his torso.
After a moment, the two of them climb to their feet. He looks down at her, bolstered with firm resolution. “So how do we stop them?”
~ THIRTY-NINE ~
Riya
Riya scans the streets. Many businesses have closed in the wake of the bizarre events. Only a few curious individuals are out investigating the ominous aura, their thoughts wavering from skepticism to wild theories of terrorism or alien invasion.
The Indian-American keeps her eyes forward, afraid a single glimpse with a passerby might give away the fact that she holds secreted knowledge. She huffs. “Can’t say I’m thrilled to be walking through Pittsburgh in pursuit of another Fate, you guys.”
Madison keeps close, discomforted by the suspicious gazes that crawl up and down their bodies. “Yeah, not exactly feeling welcome.”
“Everyone’s going to be on edge,” Sebastian declares. “Hopefully no one saw us in the streets and assumes we’re responsible.”
Riya groans. “Least I’ll be the first to know if anyone plans to jump us ...”
The teen grimaces. “I’m just gonna put it out there that everything goes well.”
“We’ll be fine, Riya. They’re just tense, and who could blame them?” Despite his reassurance, Sebastian quickens his pace.
After a few blocks, the trio reach the parking garage where Orion keeps her forest green Elantra. Approaching the vehicle, the Brit stops, a sudden realization dawning on him.
He frowns and hands the keys to Riya. “You have a license, right? I’m not comfortable driving a car with the wheel on the wrong side ...”
“Are you kidding me?” The raven-haired woman rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’ll drive.”
◊ ◊ ◊
The hills of Pittsburgh undulate beneath the sedan’s tires. With Riya behind the wheel, the three of them head south, crossing the Birmingham Bridge over the Monongahela River.
The Brit closes his eyes, mentally surveying. “All right, keep in this direction. I’ll tell you when to turn.”
Seated in the back, Madison leans forward between his elder companions. “So what do you sense about these two? Abilities? Anything?”
“Not much beyond vague personality traits,” Sebastian answers. “Those that are part of our group ... glow, you might say. A Fate stands out because it possesses a certain heaviness. With these two, one seems determined, protective, and cautious. The other—the Fate—comes across as flip
pant and whimsical.”
“Be nice if those were reversed,” Riya moans.
“I suppose you’re right, but there’s nothing for it. We have to make contact.”
“The Fate sounds kinda like Orion,” Madison adds.
Riya sighs. “Yeah, probably tall and extroverted like the others too.”
“I’m only two inches shorter than Orion ...” Sebastian clears his throat. “And I wouldn’t call Thane extroverted.”
“You know what I mean. Confident. Assertive.”
The Brit leers. “I’d say the same about you, Riya.”
“Seconded!” Madison chimes.
She smirks, flattered. “Thanks, you two, but I’m talking about something deeper. Orion’s free-spirited, sure, but you can tell she’s been through a lot. Thane, Allister, Orion—they all seem hardened by life, don’t they?”
“I can’t speak for Thane or Orion, but Allister ...” Sebastian clicks the inside of his mouth. “He’s got his demons. Been carrying a grudge against our dad for as long as I’ve known him.”
Madison scoots closer while Riya raises an eyebrow. “What happened?” she asks.
The Brit sighs. “When I was baby, Allister got very ill. I was about one, maybe two, so he must’ve been eleven or twelve at the time. I obviously don’t remember, but the way he tells it, dad just ... forgot about him. Allister was bedridden in our home. A nurse came by every day to care for him, but dad, seems he devoted all his attention to me.”
“Damn,” Riya mutters. “Guess I understand the guy a little better now.”
Madison shrinks back, eyes lowering. “I know how he feels.”
Sebastian averts his gaze outside, watching the buildings pass by. “I try to believe it was just too much for dad to see Allister like that—IV in his arm, barely holding on—but I don’t know. Dad’s never been the nurturing type.”
Riya tightens her grip on the steering wheel. “Sometimes parents let you down ...”
“A-freaking-men,” Madison sings.
Sebastian shifts, and Riya can hear his mind pushing the memories away. “It’s not much further.”
◊ ◊ ◊
As the road curves to the west, Sebastian perks upright. He points. “There! The hotel!”
Riya pulls into the parking lot and idles in the shadow of the five-story building. Fractions of sunlight penetrate through the cloud cover, a deceptive invitation into the looming unknown before them. Although far from busy, a dozen or so cars litter the parking lot, evident from the small multitude of minds Riya senses inside.
Sebastian leans over to get a better look. “Top floor. That side.” His blue eyes dart to Riya. “Can you hear them?”
“I hear lots of people.” She blows the air from her cheeks. “Without knowing exactly where they are ... I don’t know.” Riya pauses. Listens. Amongst the chatter shines a unique voice—a woman’s voice, kind but weary from the shade of spiritual fatigue.
She blinks, astonished at the growth of her abilities. “I think I found one of them.”
Sebastian firms. “What about the Fate?”
Riya homes in on the woman, circling around the voice for anything odd in its vicinity. The breath catches in her lungs. It’s faint but there—the scratching sound of a small darkness swirling nearby, like ink in a pool of water. “I hear the Fate, but it’s ... I guess sleeping would be the word.”
The Brit nods. “Good. I feel the same thing.”
“But how is that possible?” Riya asks. “I didn’t sense the dormant Fate in Allister.”
Madison shrugs. “Maybe now you know what to look for? After the other day, I don’t think I could ever forget a feeling like that.” The teen shakes off his dread and reaches over the seat to give Riya a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered if anything happens.”
Sebastian looks to both of them, blue eyes flashing with resolve. “Let’s go.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Generic, white walls; framed, seaside landscapes; and bland carpeting coat the hotel’s interior in an homage to banality. Sebastian leads the pack, diligent and alert, as the trio stride through the lobby towards the elevators. The woman behind the front desk eyes them suspiciously but doesn’t probe.
In front of the array of elevators, Sebastian hits the call button. “Just a lift ride away.” He takes a deep breath.
Riya watches the Brit, gaze softening. “You know, Sebastian, you’re different when Allister isn’t around.”
Madison snickers, savvy to Riya’s point.
The Brit tilts his head. “I am? How so?”
The raven-haired woman shares a mutual smirk with the teen.
Sebastian blushes and rubs the back of his neck. “Feel like I’m missing something.”
“It’s just ... I feel like the Earth’s spinning so fast, it’s about to launch me into space, but you? I guess you’re our gravity.” Riya slaps his shoulder as the elevator dings. “Come on.”
He raises an eyebrow, the compliment gradually sinking in as both companions shove him onto the elevator.
On the fifth floor, the three of them prowl along the expansive hallways. Sebastian takes a right then a left, knowing exactly where to go.
At the final turn, he pauses. “It’s the one at the end. Right side.”
Tentative, their pace slows as the reality of their task weighs on them. The air grows dense, stagnant.
Riya’s heart hammers her ribcage at the thought of what terrible powers could wait behind that door. As she fights to bury her fears, warm, delicate fingers interweave with hers. She darts to Madison who looks to her with an empathetic smile. Sebastian’s hand soon follows, grasping her other hand firmly in his.
Their strength flows into her, and her apprehension fades.
At the door, they stop, unsure how to break the ice. On the other side, Riya can hear a television but no voices. Two distinct minds occupy the room, but their thoughts offer little more information than what she sensed earlier.
“I don’t feel any lingering darkness or anything,” Madison announces. “Think we’re in the clear?”
Riya nods. “Yeah, same. Their thoughts are pretty quiet; they’re just watching the news.”
Sebastian inhales, then lifts his fist to knock. “Here goes.” His thumps his knuckle against the door.
The television suddenly goes silent. Then nothing.
The Brit looks to Riya and Madison with a shrug. He mouths, again? Both nod. He knocks a second time.
“Who’s there?!” A curt, female voice.
“We’re, uh ...” Sebastian goes rigid. “Shit, we should’ve rehearsed this,” he hisses.
Riya pushes in front of the Brit, cupping a hand around her mouth to speak into the door. “Ma’am? My name is Riya. I’m out here with my friends, Madison and Sebastian. We’re, well ... There’s no easy way to say this. We’re like you.”
Silence. Then rustling. Footsteps from the other side approach the door. A click. It cracks open to the limit the security chain allows. Beyond the door, the sliver of a woman’s face emerges. Her dark eyes scrutinize each of them.
“In what way?” she asks, skeptical.
Riya thinks for a moment. “Picture a favorite memory.”
Her face scrunches with incredulity. “What?”
“Please ... so I can show you what I can do.”
The woman closes the door and latches it from the other side. Riya blanks.
“Bloody hell,” Sebastian sighs. “Definitely should’ve rehearsed this.”
“Hold on.” Riya leans against the door and closes her eyes. “You graduated from Berkley in California ... with a Masters in journalism ... The day of commencement, your dad told you how proud he was of you. He cried and gave you a big hug. You remember it so well because it was the closest you ever felt to him ... and you miss him very much.”
Stillness hangs above the trio. Sebastian and Madison exchange a puzzled look while Riya waits against the door.
The lock clicks, a
nd the door opens once again.
Abrasiveness tempered, the woman pokes her head out and leers at the young Indian-American. “You have my attention.”
~ FORTY ~
Isaac
After more than sixteen hours on the plane, the man is ready to stretch his legs. To his gratitude, the flight from Johannesburg to Atlanta was calm, and he takes a moment to give thanks for his safe arrival by kissing the small, gold cross hanging from his neck.
The man extends his neck from side to side. His back arches to alleviate his spine, and the relief bellows from the cracking of his ribcage. He swoops to catch his glasses as they tumble off his face, adjusting the narrow, rimless spectacles on the bridge of his nose. Nudging his way into the center aisle, he minds his head given his six-foot-one stature and retrieves his luggage with care. Within moments, passengers begin exiting the plane row by row to enter the Atlanta International Airport.
It has been a long journey since Gaborone, Botswana. He splashes cool water on his face in the restroom and inspects himself in the mirror. Though broad-shouldered and imposing in form, he radiates a tranquil demeanor. He has a short beard and a buzz cut. His eyes are vast, deep-set into a high-boned face with a tapestry of dark brown skin. The decades have chiseled few lines into him for his late forties, accentuating a humble but dignified aura. This man who walks in devotion to his faith carries the name Isaac.
His shoulders slope like the Tsodilo Hills beneath his white, long-sleeve Henley. He straightens the pockets of his blue jeans and spreads his toes inside his heavy boots. Relief at last. With his duffel bag hoisted onto his back, he exits the restroom and heads for customs.
◊ ◊ ◊
“All right, what’ve we got here?” The clerk behind the desk is a large, middle-aged man of chalky complexion. He wears glasses and accepts his receding hairline with a slicked-back hairstyle, opting for a bushy moustache to compensate. The clerk inspects Isaac’s passport and work visa carefully. “Ah, so you’re with the Catholic church. Don’t see religious worker forms too often. A minister, huh?”