Of Delicate Pieces (26 page)

Sigorny L.

Voice of the Newburies

Ever wonder what happened to the kid last year who couldn’t get over his death? You remember him, right? The little boy who would run circles around the courtyard, howling and trying to rip out hair that didn’t exist.

Well, I found him.

He’s currently a resident of a mental treatment center. Eidolon’s medical center refers the mentally cracked of the afterlife to this facility. The most interesting fact about this treatment center? It’s for the living
and
the dead. You read that right.

The Eskers Mental Rehabilitation Center opened its doors in the late eighteenth century in Parrish, Maryland. Not only are some of the patients dead, but much of the staff is dead, as well. I suppose when the patients are insane, it doesn’t matter if they see ghosts roaming the halls. Half the doctors are Havilahs, and research shows that at one time, half the residents were Havilahs, too.

Their most recent patient was Harrison Blotten, our young courtyard sprinter. Before Room 11 belonged to him, it belonged to a certain Alex Ash.

So my question: will the fate of our world end up in the hands of a lunatic?

***

Rae’s sketches wallpapered Alex’s room. In fact, in some areas, Rae hadn’t even used paper; she’d colored a masterpiece right on the wall. Alex didn’t mind. They belonged there, but sometimes in the dark before she fell asleep, the charcoal on her formerly white walls made them seem far too similar to the gray interior of the Eskers Institution with its moving shadows and loud emotions. It didn’t help that Alex’s dreams kept taking her back there.

On the afternoon of the winter solstice, her mind was at peace, maybe because of the daylight, or because the happiness of the holidays prevented unwanted memories. The pictures in her sleeping mind remained blank. She could feel herself curled in a ball but could see and hear nothing. The only sense was touch. She felt a gentle hand remove her hair tie, and her scalp relaxed as her hair fell free.

Chase’s presence arrived like a heat. He raked his fingers through her hair and shifted the pillow under her head. He loved her. The feeling was everywhere, singing to her. She did not budge from that cocoon of melodic warmth.

His hand found hers, but when her fingers opened, she forgot about the note she clutched there, the one she found outside her door that morning with her other solstice gifts. It was a warning. It was a revelation.

And it was from Jonas.

Alex jackknifed awake upon realizing what Chase found in her hand, but the damage was done. He’d only seen the note for a few seconds, but that was long enough.

“He hasn’t talked to us in months, and he sends a note to you? How dare he write to you after what he’s done!” Chase paced the room in a fury, his hands clasped behind his neck. “And he came to visit you?”

Alex fiddled with her hair.

“That’s how you knew about Syrus Raive? I knew it. I didn’t think Westfall would tell you something like that.”

Alex read the letter.
Spirits already hate you, thinking you are her. The gifted will hate you when they realize you really
aren’t
her.

“Jonas is right though,” Alex whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We burn that stupid letter. And we keep our mouths shut.”

For goodness sake, the Havilah tree outshined the others in the Legacy Room. She found it hard to believe that no one had ever found Raive’s name.

“How could you not tell me? You lied to me.” His blue eyes cut the space between them, daggering the note in her fist.

She hadn’t lied. She just hadn’t shared.

“And what the hell is he doing out there? Who is this group sending him on missions? Did he not learn his lesson last time?”

Alex didn’t respond to his questions. He looked homicidal, marching around her room.

“Please don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Deer in the headlights. Someone has to worry about you because evidently
you
don’t.”

She pushed her way into his mind. It was a deep, ugly red of anger and jealousy. The lights on the wall next to her brightened and whined. She stood up and bolted from the room before Chase’s fury took shape and burst the bulbs or ignited the carpet. Feelings were contagious; they both knew that.

Alex flew down the ramp and out into the fresh air, hoping the mood of the town would ease Chase’s anger. She didn’t slow her pace until she reached the sunstones lining the roads through all of Eidolon. They glimmered like diamonds, but their decorations ranged from holiday lights, to flowers, to carvings, to snow. Freestanding sconces hovered above their heads, glowing white and angelic.

“Where is he?” Chase asked. “Did he say?”

“You know as much as I do,” Alex replied, skirting around a replica of the earth fading in and out of darkness. “The only information I have is what was written in that note. He didn’t tell me anything I hadn’t already heard.”

Chase caught up to her, huffing and puffing, his breath visible and red in the evening air. Anger never had trouble taking form.

“You don’t need to breathe, you know.”

“I’m really not focusing on that right now. Jonas is so damn selfish. He knows his brothers are worried about him even after the stunt he pulled last year. I always held my tongue when Kaleb would talk about how Jonas would do anything, step on anyone if it meant he could be boosted a little bit higher. I thought Jonas would come through in the end, but he didn’t. He made a fool of me last year not because he attacked me but because he attacked
you
, and I didn’t even see it coming. I don’t know whether Jonas ever loved me, or Kaleb, or Gabe, or you. He put you on a silver platter so he could step on you on his way up. Kaleb was right from the start.”

Alex wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the night air. She kept moving because that was all she could think to do, turning down a new lane, one she’d never seen before. A glowing semicircle of stairs ascended up into nothingness, so she chose to go straight. She didn’t feel like entering the unexpected right now.

“I’m sorry, Chase.”

“Don’t you be sorry,” he barked, pushing ahead of her to open a curtain strung with tiny suns. As he stood under the archway, holding the curtain, he seemed to remember himself, and his fury softened.

“Don’t be sorry,” he repeated, gently this time. He followed her through the light of the suns. “I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at my ass of a brother. It’s not your fault.”

It was her fault. She was somehow the product of two extremely dangerous spirits. She wondered where they might try to categorize her now. They could test her, prod her, to see if she related more to Raive or Sephi. She never imagined things could get worse once she found answers. No wonder Rae chose to keep moving, bouncing from place to place. The Broderick officials would never be able to use Rae, or even find her.

What would happen when everyone found out about Syrus Raive? Her adoring fans would turn into a lynch mob. Finally, the people would agree on one thing. Both sides could rally around their hatred for her.

There was her purpose. To be the sacrificial lamb who brought everyone together.

***

Skye leaned out the window of the Broderick Square museum, resting her forearms on the wrought iron railing and frowning at the congestion on the streets below. She’d taken her time wandering through the exhibits, searching for meaning in sculptures and paintings, absorbing the magic of the artists. She didn’t feel different here. She didn’t feel like she had something to hide. Every object in this building had a purpose, and that was to speak to the people in some way. For once, she wasn’t the only one who could understand an inanimate object.

Her gift made her nervous. Her
gifted-loving
relative with the pink streak of hair made her nervous, too. Both things connected her to a group of people this town hated. She would much rather dance around campus and flirt with boys and play dumb. That way, no one would know she was different than the average Gossamer.

She’d spent too much time in the museum. The atmosphere outside had shifted. Spirits in Broderick Square moved too quickly, especially on such a perfect day, one which was supposed to be restful. The piney holiday aroma had been punctured by this frolic and began to burn.

She couldn’t exit back through the building because she knew the art would distract her. Time died in this museum; she wouldn’t come out until tomorrow. Reluctantly, she blinked and imagined herself on the street below. She fell into the stream of moving spirits.

She caught a glimpse of Alex and Chase but ducked away. She was fond of both of them, but that didn’t make it easy to be around them. When they kissed, she found herself staring, enthralled by the raw emotion. Even in a large group, she felt like an interruption. Like a third wheel. Skye wasn’t used to this feeling. She was a Gossamer, a bragging right which she flaunted proudly.

Charismatic and amiable, Gossamers got what they wanted. She felt such happiness and acceptance the first time she saw the family tree in the Legacy Room. She was important here, genetically spirited. There was power in numbers. Skye had everything here in death, but Alex and Chase made her feel like she was missing something.

She hadn’t decided if her ability was a gift or a curse, but she knew she didn’t trust it. Everything she touched was eager to share its experiences with her. Trees. Animals. Books. Even evil, bitter letterboxes. Could they lie as easily as a human?

She should have told Alex—or at least Duvall—what the box showed her. She was still haunted by the maniacal face of the man she witnessed murdering Sephi. The box had to have been there to see the whole thing because it remembered the crime clearly.

She wished she could ask one of her relatives if they ever experienced similar powers, but very few lived within the city. She didn’t dare ask that pink-streaked leach. All Skye had to do was touch Little’s hand one time to see that she’d lived a picture-perfect life. In flashes, Skye was forced to witness a movie reel of adoring parents, beaches, birthday parties, and cruises. This girl had lived the life Skye wanted, and Skye wanted nothing to do with feelings of inadequacy!

Even the florist was now out in the street. Skye tucked the bouquet under her arm: Forget-Me-Nots for Rae, and shoved her hand into her pocket, extracting the catnip seeds she’d purchased. It could be the protective effects of the catnip kicking in, but something unsettling traveled its way up to her head. Everything became blurry like watching the world through the wings of a hummingbird. It made her dizzy, and she rested her palm on the nearest lamppost to keep herself from falling.

The lamppost shocked her with a memory. “Witch!” it screamed to her.

She gasped.

“Witch!” It repeated.

She snatched her hand away from the lamppost.
Witch
. The lamppost wasn’t the only one saying it. The word was everywhere. Skye dropped the catnip and flowers and her vision stopped trembling.

She massaged her temples. The image of an electric-haired girl flashed into her mind. Where did the memory come from? She wasn’t touching anything. Except her own head.

Whoever the mystery girl was, she was in the city. Skye placed her hands on the windows of the shops; windows saw much more than doors. No images appeared, just the word over and over.
Witch
. It whistled throughout the air, piercing her ears. A slur. And Skye realized it was an actual whistle and it was coming from the Brigitta campus. It was an alarm, calling all the newburies back home. No wonder there was fear in the air.

She gathered her things and readied herself to run back to campus but spotted Rae. The child stood amid the chaos like a statue, unaffected. She had one arm on her hip while the other arm she twisted around Alex’s leg. To an outsider, it would appear as though Rae was holding Alex for protection when Skye knew it was the other way around.

Chase stood opposite Alex, holding her as though she might take flight. As Skye made her way through the crowd to get to them, a large figure swooped in to beat her there. Ardor Westfall was moving with the crowd in the opposite direction, but she heard him bark at Chase.

“Take Alex back to Brigitta
now
. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“What is going on?” Chase asked, as Skye stepped in next to Rae and handed over the bouquet. They shared a look of understanding.

“The gifted are in Eidolon.”

“The bodied can’t get through the gate,” Alex argued.

Westfall shook his head and tapped his temple.

Skye handed some of the catnip to Rae. “In their heads?”

The travelers rushed around in different directions, bumping them.

“I’m sure she,” he paused, “or
they
love that they’ve caused panic.”

“I won’t leave her,” Chase obeyed. The determination in his face made Skye red with jealousy.

And as if Rae read her thoughts, she let go of Alex and tucked her small hand within Skye’s. Skye didn’t realize what would happen, but she was filled with images.

The meadow behind the fields.

Daisies.

Traveling through something bright and scorching.

A girl. With black hair and glowing eyes. And again, the realization struck her that this wasn’t the first time she’d seen this face. She saw her own hand brushing against the grandmother Forget-me tree with her crackling, gray bark.

Rae had seen the gifted, too. The day they found her by the gates Skye had forgotten. Rae had given the memory back to her.

Alex never saw so many newburies gathered in the vestibule at one time, and the room didn’t like it because the walls turned puke green. She never saw litter either, but she kicked away pencils, papers, and even pieces of rock. Brigitta Hall was losing its cool; the blue flames trapped under the floor whipped and lashed more violently than usual.