by J. A. James
"Mama," she whispered. A wave of love passed through her. "I love you," she whispered, as a quiet wash of tears began sliding down her cheeks.
They are coming for you. Suddenly, the warning again. It seemed to come from nowhere. A chill ran up Halva's spine. Her hand inched towards the rock. She gingerly touched it with a finger; it was cool to the touch.
How could she go back into a dream again? she wondered desperately. She needed more answers. And now - who was coming for her? She remembered the first time she had touched the stone and had been brought into her Mother's memory in the hot arid land. And here, she had held it again in her palm as she fell asleep.
Keep it close.
Halva knew, then, that she would have to do exactly that. She looked at the rock. It looked like a simple stone, no different than something anybody could pick up in the forest.
What if she ever lost it? She almost had a visceral reaction to the thought. Her eyes glanced towards her bag, towards the clock resting on the side table. It was nearly time to wake up anyways - she'd have to get up and catch a taxi to the airport.
She rummaged through her bag, and pulled out a thin leather cord she’d stripped from another purse of hers. She took it, wrapping it carefully around the rock.
There, she thought, when she finished her handiwork, fifteen minutes later. It was now a necklace. The stone was now dark, and hung slightly crookedly on the leather suspension. But it sat securely within the webbed leather ties. She placed it on herself, and tied the ends carefully. I'll keep it close, like you said, mom.
She arrived early for her domestic flight. She wheeled her small suitcase - mercifully, she had just brought a carry-on with her - through the busy airport. There was no wait in any of the security lines - she was the only one there.
She sighed as she settled into the outside waiting area, gazing idly at her phone. No messages from Edith. That was good. No news was good news - and she could wait until getting back into town before doing any work. She wasn't quite ready to read through her emails and the company inbox just quite yet.
A bone-weariness crept through her body. She was tired and hungry. Her hands suddenly went around her neck, as if just to make sure - yes, it was still there. She felt a small wave of relief run through her. It was the one thing that gave her some relief, that her mother, somehow, was still connected to her. That she hadn't lost her entirely, even with all the years they had had a chance to connect when she was still alive. But she hadn't chosen to, then... it was only now.
Now's the time. Something inside her seemed to whisper those words. Now's the time.
After scanning the magazine someone had left on the seat beside her - Home & Garden, last year's November edition - she yawned, checking the clock. Perfect. Check-in time.
She walked through the long stretches of airport lanes, her stomach rumbling. I'll get something after I check in, she thought, as she placed her carry-on onto the moving carousel. Placing her shoes and bag into the next bin, she got in line. An older woman was ahead of her, struggling to remove her thick rain jacket.
Halva paused, looking at her. Her mother had always been terrified of planes. How on earth had she managed to get on one when she was seventeen?
Her turn. She stepped through the metal detector, where two uniformed officers, a man and a woman, stood waiting. She beeped as she went through. Halva was startled. She hadn't set off the detector on her incoming flight.
The woman approached her. "Back up and go again," she said in a stern voice.
"Okay." Halva obliged, her hands going through her pockets. Nope. No change that she'd forgotten to throw in the tray.
She beeped again as she walked through.
This time, the male officer stepped forward. "Come this way," he said, crooking his finger towards her. He walked back to the end of the conveyer belt. Halva walked towards him, and he drew out a long pair of tongs with a large swab on the end, the size of a golf ball.
"Anything in your pockets?"
"No."
"Take off your watch. And that necklace."
She didn’t like how he said that. Her hands shook slightly as she slowly removed the piece. She didn’t want to, but she wasn’t about to refuse a security request. She watched him as he ran the swab over her watch, and then the stone.
His mouth frowned slightly as he re-ran the swab over the rock. He rose, and walked over to the female officer, where he said something to her - she couldn't make it what he said. A moment later, he turned back to her.
"Follow me," he said, casting a flinty look at her as he walked towards a hallway.
"I-I don't know what I could possibly have," she stammered, but followed him, glancing back towards her bag. "What about my luggage?"
"We'll take care of it." The voice was curt; abrupt.
She felt something crumple in the pit of her stomach. They're coming for you. The warning came to her again.
But this was an officer at the airport. What could they be looking for? She jutted her chin out. It was fine. She was fine. They'd fix this in no time and she'd be on her way.
They walked down the empty corridor for a full minute before he opened a door to a room that held only a five foot table with two chairs across from each other. An interrogation room. As she entered, she glanced at the mirror. Was someone watching on the other side?
She felt goosebumps go up on her arms as she crossed them in front of her. It was cold, and it wasn’t just the air conditioning.
"Take a seat," he said roughly. When she didn't comply immediately, he slammed the door behind her, and she jumped at the suddenness of the sound.
He walked over. And before she could move, he grabbed her hands and twisted them behind her in a lightning-fast motion. She uttered half a scream before she found her mouth suddenly covered by his rough hand.
"Shut up," he hissed. "You are under arrest for the illegal possession of an artifact."
What? Halva thought, her heart beginning to pound.
"Now - if you scream again I'll cut your throat out. Keep quiet and answer my questions, and maybe we will let you go with a warming this time," he hissed. "Do you understand?" His voice was gravelly, unforgiving. Suddenly Halva noticed a long knife blade extended in his left hand.
Halva nodded quickly, her eyes wide. Yes. What had she gotten herself into? she thought, terrified. This was insane. It couldn’t be real.
He manoeuvred her towards the chair in front of her, but not before zipping her hands together with a zap strap. She opened her mouth to scream again, but decided against it, feeling the blade’s cold length suddenly pressed against her throat. Then the pressure came off, and she drew in short, panicked breaths.
He walked around slowly, taking a seat in front of her, one hand lightly tapping the leather corded rock onto the other.
"Tell me where you got this."
"It - I went to my mother’s funeral," she said slowly. "Here in Lumsden. This was something that she had kept for me."
"Your dead mother gave you a gift?" he said, eyeing her with an odd look she couldn’t place.
"It was a keepsake. Someone I knew gave me a box with it in it...she saved it for me. I didn't steal it," Halva said defensively. She began shaking inside. Did her mother steal it? Did they know exactly what she knew about the rock?
Something in her paused. He must know something about it.
He laughed. "Of course you didn't steal it... someone already did the job and you're just inheriting it," he said slowly, drawing out his words. Halva didn't like the way he said that - insinuating that she was guilty.
"No," she shot back. "I told you the truth. There's nothing else to say." There was nothing more she hated than being falsely accused for something she didn't do. And she wasn't going to take it lying down - from anybody. Certainly not from this man.
“I want my phone call. I need my lawyer,” she said stiffly. “You’re holding me without reason. Exactly what is your interest in it?” she demanded.
She noticed then, that the man had a somewhat bluish tinge to his skin. Was it jaundice? No. He would have had yellowish skin. What kind of sickness did he have for blue skin? She cringed at the thought. He stood up wordlessly, turning around from her, then, closing the blinds.
“Did you hear me?” she said, louder.
She felt her hackles go up, as her fingers then squeezed her elbows tightly. Was this the part where he pressured her into saying something that wasn't true? She was stuck in a room with a violent man.
He turned around then, and suddenly, she felt a strange dizziness overcome her.
"My interest in this piece is none of your business. We will interrogate you when you are a little more agreeable," he said with a strange certainty, his voice drowning out the dull thud of a headache.
His voice seemed to change with his last sentence. His accent had become thick, changed. Weird.
"Ugh," she mumbled, as she struggled to keep her eyes open. She noticed how tightly he held onto the rock. She would get it back. She had to. “I’ve told you everything I know. I want my phone call!” She felt her words slurring together. Was it gas? Poison? How did he get it in here?
It was the last thought that crossed her mind before she lost consciousness.
Part 3: GAIA.
CHAPTER 1
Find her. Find her. Those were the only words on Griesen's mind as he dashed to her apartment building. He had to find her, before they did.
He ran up the stairs to the eleventh floor, and pounded on the door for a full minute before he stopped. He bent half-over as he tried to catch his breath. Nobody answered.
A moment later, the door across from him opened. "What’s going on here!” a voice bellowed.
Griesen turned around to see a dishevelled-looking man with spectacles, wearing a white T-shirt and shorts. He had a ferocious scowl on his face.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, but have you seen your neighbor?"
He shook his head no. "Actually, I haven't seen her for the last few days. I think she went away. You'd best check with her work."
“Alright.”
The man cast a funny glance at him. "You're a friend of hers, I presume?"
Griesen nodded. "Yes. I am. I need to find her, it's urgent."
The man shrugged. "Alright. But watch how loud you're bangin' the door next time, okay? Some of us are tryin' to get some shuteye, for chrissakes."
The door slammed shut.
Praggt. During the time he was being chased, and dealing with Matthias, what had happened to her? He recalled her timeline he had studied back in the Observation Room. Her mother’s funeral. It must have passed by now. Halva should be on her way back from it, presumably. Edith, he thought. She would know. She would know how long Halva had been gone for.
The Silver Spoon wasn't far from here. He took off, electing to take the stairs again.
As he approached the main doors of the facility, he noticed how clean and tidy the front of the store was, with its large floor to ceiling windows. The blue and white facade was freshly painted, and he could see oversized menus hanging as chalk paintings against the interior walls. It stood out, brightly lit amongst the rest of the block which looked like it was falling into slight disrepair. As soon as he was ready to knock, the door opened instead. It was Edith.
"Oh... hello!" she exclaimed, holding a cell phone in one hand to her ear. She recognized him, he thought with relief.
She gestured to him, holding up a finger. One moment, she mouthed, as she listened on the phone.
Griesen took in her kind face. She was exactly the motherly figure that Halva needed in her life. Sometimes life gifted its surprises in different ways - never in the ways Humans thought.
"Yes, yes, well thank you for finishing that contract up for me," she said to the voice on the phone. "I look forward to signing it. Bring it by, because I’m drowning in paperwork - Halva should've been back already but I haven't heard from her and she usually looks after these things - "
Should have been back. A small pit of worry began to grow in Griesen's stomach. Where on Earth was she?
Edith finished, moments later, tucking the phone into her back jean pocket. She looked at him curiously. "How can I help you, dear?"
"I'm looking for Halva," he said quickly. "She wasn't at home, so I thought my next best chance was here... and I just heard you say that she hasn't come back?"
Edith shook her head. "No... I was expecting her to come back into town the day before yesterday. She's so gung-ho, she usually shows up the next day at work fresh as a daisy no matter how little she's slept the night before." She paused a moment. "I'm sorry, I remember you but your name again was…?”
"Garrett,” he said quickly, flashing her a smile. “The friend of hers. From school. I was in town and we met briefly at the charity ball. I've been really looking forward to catching up with her…she mentioned she’d be in.”
"Oh, you poor dear!" Edith exclaimed, opening the door a little wider. "Do come in - I mean, I don't know if it'll do you any good to wait around here but - "
"No, that would be quite alright!" he said enthusiastically. “She could be in anytime now.” He hoped, anyways…
It was the best option he had. He could try and find something that would offer a clue as to where she was.
She led him into the open foyer area. "This is where we chat with prospective clients," she said.
Griesen pretended to be nicely surprised, as if he’d never seen the space before. In fact he had, possibly through thousands of hours spent in the Observation room. “It's a very nice place you have here," he offered.
Edith smiled, throwing her shoulders back slightly. "Thank you. Herv - my husband and I- we took a lot of pride in building it up. And now I'm just happy that I've got Halva helping me run this place."
He detected a shadow of worry cross her face.
"This is just so unlike her," she said. "She'd normally be back by now. Or at least call if she was delayed. But, I suppose, it was her mother's funeral..."
"Well, you've obviously tried contacting her?" Griesen asked, trying to keep his tone on the lighter side.
Edith nodded. "Yes. Her phone keeps ringing, but she hasn’t picked up. I didn’t want to bother her too much given what she’s going through, but… Well, aside from all that, I suppose we're both going to have to wait." On that note, her phone rang.
"Oh," she murmured. "Excuse me - make yourself at home. Hubert!" she shouted then across to the kitchen. "Bring this nice friend of Halva's a cup of tea, when you have a moment will you? Thank you!"
She picked up the phone. "Silver Spoon Catering," she said briskly as she turned to walk away.
Griesen settled into the long couch in the foyer, trying to avoid hitting the low-rise coffee table with his knees.
Moments later, Hubert emerged - the sous chef - carrying a small pot of hot water and a teacup.
"Alright," he announced gruffly. "We got green, earl grey, lavender, or some tropical mishmash. Pick. I’m runnin’ a bit behind.”
"Green, please."
Moments later, he returned with a green tea bag on a plate. "Best of the best," he announced. "Organic green tea. Edith and Halva hunted all over for this supplier. It’s a rare one that only gets stocked once a year. Enjoy." He smiled, setting the teabag down in front of him before running back into the kitchen.