Dark Company (20 page)

“Put it on-screen.”

The image sprang into the room, three-dimensional and life size. The scene unfolded and Skylark’s pulse quickened. Sirens
wailed. People shouted. The girl lay beneath the wheels of the car, as twisted and broken as a discarded doll. Pain seared along the lightning strike on Skylark’s arm. She clenched her teeth in agony.

Kenji pointed to the man behind the wheel. “Would you look who it is.… a grey guy.”

They watched the driver leave the car, brush off his suit and walk away.

Francis clucked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk, up to no good as usual.”

“I don’t see the Speaker,” Kenji said.

The pain blistered through Skylark’s body. She doubled over, clutching her head. Kenji elbowed Francis, who rushed to her side.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“My head … it’s splitting open …”

“Try to relax …” Francis looked at Kenji for help, but he just made a face and shook his head.

The mouse massaged the back of her neck. Francis patted her shoulder, one eye on the scene. “Keep relaxing …”

“Hey, there he is,” Kenji said. “On the right.”

The Speaker blipped in and out of the scene.

“Go back,” Francis ordered the screen.

The recording rewound and began playing again.

“There!” Kenji said. “On the sidewalk.”

“Stop,” Francis said. “Go back—slowly.”

The image reversed, clicking frame by frame. When the Speaker reappeared, Francis told the recording to freeze. The demon stood, his frigid eyes casually watching the turmoil on the street. Skylark straightened, the pain in her arm mercifully subsiding once the image had stopped. Francis sauntered up to the Speaker and followed his line of sight. “Who’s he talking to, I wonder?”

Skylark tentatively approached the car, her pulse hammering in her ears as she drew in close to examine the girl. The bloodied
hair. The impossible angle of the arm. The sneaker in the middle of the road. Her eyes. Soft. Grey …

The icy finger of memory pushed a shiver up her spine. She was the girl beneath the car! She’d been hit while riding her bike to school to see Poe! This was the part of her memory she’d been missing. This was why she was overcome with pain whenever she saw the Speaker.

Skylark moved into the demon’s line of vision and stared into his dispassionate face. “It’s me,” she said in a hushed voice. “I was standing on the sidewalk after she got hit by the car … after I got hit. The Speaker was the one who told me I was dead.”

No one said anything for the longest time. Francis chewed the fringe of beard along his bottom lip.

“You know what this means,” he finally said. “Skylark was a priority target.”

She looked at him in shock. “A priority target?”

“That’s right.” He gestured at the driver. “These grey ones are assassins. They work for this guy.” He jerked his thumb at the Speaker. “They even dress like him. They don’t kill just anybody. They pick their targets. They’re very deliberate. The Speaker only shows up if the target is extra important. He must have really wanted you gone.”

“She was just a high school kid,” Kenji said.

Francis rocked on his heels. “Was she?” They both turned to Skylark.

Why would anyone have wanted to kill her? She was popular. She had so many friends. She had Poe! Her memories were happy, for the most part. Why would someone want her dead? “I don’t understand …”

The mouse patted her neck. “Don’t let it upset you. These images can no longer harm you.”

Francis cupped his chin, musing. “This is a real puzzle …”

Kenji pretended to brush some invisible lint off the Speaker’s
shoulder then pointed his finger like a gun and pulled the trigger. “We’ve got you now, buddy.”

“What about the grey ones?” Skylark asked. “Why aren’t you hunting them?”

“They’re out of our jurisdiction,” Kenji said.

Skylark looked at Francis to explain. He scrubbed his beard.

“We’re not allowed to meddle with the Natives. Humans are strictly off limits. They need to fight their own battles. It’s all about free will and the growth of the individual soul as part of collective enlightenment and whatnot. They have the power to change their world in a heartbeat.” He snapped his fingers. “But they have to figure it out for themselves. We can’t tell them anything. Oh, we can guide them here and there, but ultimately, they’re on their own. Our job is to make sure things don’t get outta hand on this side.” He turned on the heels of his boots and mulled over the scene. “Do you think we should run through this again, just to see if there’s anything we’ve missed?”

“What about Skylark?” Kenji asked. He held his hands to his head, miming her pain.

“Oh, right.”

The mouse reared up, pressing his small fingers on her temple. “I’ll send light to deflect the pain. Move away from the scene, Skylark. It may help.”

She stood to one side of the room as Francis and Kenji rewound and gesticulated and discussed. Over and over. Maybe it was the mouse’s light, or the repetition of the images, but with each pass she found herself less involved. The pain in her head and arm had subsided and she was actually growing bored with the endless analysis. Until he showed up. Francis had finally allowed the scene to scroll through to the end when Poe burst through the crowd, as wild-eyed as a panicked horse.

“Stop the image!” Skylark shouted, and the scene froze. She walked through the crowd, past the police and the emergency
workers, past the car and the broken body of the girl. When she reached Poe, a longing, deep and primitive, took hold of her. She raised her hand—she couldn’t stop herself—and touched his face. A charge ran through her body. Her particles raced. Balancing on her toes, she closed her eyes and kissed him. A fever consumed her when her lips met his. The room and everything in it fell away. It was just her and him, the way it used to be …

Francis coughed. “Skylark?”

The sound of his voice wrenched her from the moment. She turned on him. “What do you want?”

“We should wrap this up. Close the image,” he ordered the book.

The book slapped shut and the image disappeared.

Skylark flew at the podium. “Bring him back!” she cried. “You can’t take him away from me!” Her soul raged, the pain of loss tearing through her body. Her power arced in a braided coil of crackling light, snapping and skipping wildly to the ceiling before everything went black.

Skylark woke in her robe on a couch back at headquarters. She must have reverted when she passed out. The mouse was sleeping on a pillow next to her. Kenji slouched in an overstuffed chair, feet jutting out in front of him. Francis paced, worrying his beard. They were speaking telepathically so as not to wake her, no doubt. Skylark eavesdropped on their conversation.

“Why was the Speaker at her death?” Kenji asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I heard the Prism sounded every fork at her initiation ceremony.”

Francis folded his arms. “Who told you that?”

“I have my sources. I heard she fell between the frequencies too.”

“That’s bunk and you know it. No being has ever returned from between the frequencies in the same form.”

“That’s just what I heard.”

“Yeah? What else did you hear?”

“That she’s an energetic aberration, capable of tipping the balance either way.”

“What?” Francis nearly fell over. “Now, that’s just stupid.”

Kenji pitched an eyebrow. “Is it? Nothing about her is normal. You saw what happened back there. She nearly blew the Hall to smithereens—and us with it. If we hadn’t laid down that neutralizing blast—”

“All right, all right,” Francis said, cutting him off.

Kenji wouldn’t let up. “Her EP’s off the charts. She jumps like a rocket. She’s got more power than you and me combined. Admit it—she’s the strangest thing you’ve ever seen.”

Skylark had heard enough. She didn’t care what they thought. She had to get back to Poe. She tried to sit up, but she felt so weak. Francis flew to her side.

“How are you feeling, honey?”

“I have to get out of here.”

Francis placed his hand on her shoulder. “Easy now.”

She pulled away from him and the pain shot through her arm. She looked in disgust at her scar and the healing cord winding from her shoulder to her wrist. She hated it—everything about it. And her robe too. She glared at it, the fabric softly fanning around her body like the wings of a manta ray. “Why did they do this to me? Why didn’t they just let me die?”

Francis looked at a loss. “It’s all part of the plan … There are markers—in our energetic imprint—that determine where we go. Some are Guides, some are Spectrals, some cycle endlessly through the human code … and then there’s us. We’re something entirely different.”

Skylark lay back on the couch. She didn’t want an explanation. She wanted to be alive and human so she could be with Poe. She looked Francis in the eyes. “What’s an energetic aberration?”

He gulped air, feigning innocence. “Now, where’d you hear that?”

She stared back at him, unflinching. He rubbed his beard self-consciously.

Kenji stepped in. “Eavesdropping is a bad habit. And you shouldn’t listen to rumours either.”

She gave him a scathing look. “I won’t if you won’t.”

“Okay, okay,” Francis said, patting Skylark’s arm. “You just rest, honey. Collect yourself. We’ll give you some space. We can continue this conversation when you’re feeling better.” He turned to Kenji. “Let’s go, hotshot.”

They politely dematerialized. Sebastian was still asleep, no doubt exhausted by her power overload, too. There was no reason to wake him. Rising from the couch, Skylark steadied herself and tiptoed to one side of the room so as not to startle the mouse when she jumped.

She dropped down in the Hall of Records, skittered across the threshold and nearly decked a Carrier. Smiling apologetically, she got a blank stare in return as the Carrier glided past. Drifting over to
The Book of Events
, she checked to make sure she was alone, then cooled her mind and decided what she wanted to do. She could go back in time to a place when she and Poe were together. Then again she was curious about what he did after she was gone. Did he suffer greatly? Did he pine away for her the way she pined for him? She hoped so. She concentrated and the book fanned open.

“Show me what happened next.”

The page turned. Poe was in a small cabin crowded with people. He was sitting against a wall, talking to a girl—a beautiful, hazel-eyed girl. Skylark’s soul immediately pinched with jealousy. She leaned in to get a better look and realized she knew this girl. It was Cadence, that pretty loner from her high school—what was Poe doing with her? Were they together? Had he
forgotten about her already? She wasn’t going to wait another second to find out.

With a sonic boom, Skylark jumped, landing like an angry cat on a rafter inside the cabin. Poe was sitting on the floor next to Cadence just as the book had shown. Skylark seethed with resentment and desire. She should be the one beside him. It was torture to see him smile at another. Did he love this girl? The thought of it made her want to obliterate herself, it was so painful. She wished she could tear that other girl from his heart. Breaking down, she collapsed on the rafter, buried her face in her hands and wept. The clouds gathered around the cabin and the sky grew dark.

Poe tilted his head, listening. “Do you hear that?”

Caddy paused, holding her breath for a moment before she spoke. “It’s starting to rain.”

T
he cabin door burst open and the man on watch ran in. “They’re coming!”

The Dreamers fled. Caddy hurtled down the hill toward the river. A woman screamed behind her and the bright ring of a knife blade cut through the woods. Caddy slid on her heels down the bank, crashing like a frightened animal into the water. Her sneakers slipped over the slick stones and she fell. The current grabbed her, whisking her away. Her clothes weighed her down and she thrashed to keep from sinking, flailing at tree branches that sped past. At last she caught one and held on, kicking her feet and pulling herself to shore, scrambling up the muddy riverbank on her hands and knees.

Another scream split the forest and Caddy saw a black mastiff charge down the hill. It bowled a man over in a snarl of teeth and black fur. A flash of grey between the trees drove Caddy forward.

The Dreamers had scattered in every direction. Caddy followed a woman running in front of her. It was the girl, flying over the ground, her gold hair streaming behind her. She was fast—too fast for Caddy to catch soaking wet. Her clothes made
her clumsy. She pumped her arms—she didn’t want to lose sight of her—chasing the girl into a stand of maple saplings. Several more screams pierced the air. The saplings lashed at Caddy’s skin, leaving angry welts on her face and neck. Her sneakers snagged on the stems and she fell, a maple whipping against her throat as she hit the ground. The girl didn’t even look back. She kept running, up and over a hill, and was gone.

Caddy freed herself, ran to the top of the hill and scanned the woods. The girl seemed to have vanished. In the hollow of a moss-covered boulder something moved. Caddy ran to the rock and discovered a crevice, grinning like a jagged mouth in the stone. Had the girl crawled inside? It was narrow—maybe too narrow. Where else could she have gone?