The Anathema (5 page)

Emily stared at the ground in front of her, blushing and feeling ugly, useless, and very, very angry with the condescending, sanctimonious girl in front of her. She wondered bitterly if Chandi’s marching orders had ever included having sex with someone she had only just met.

“As much as I hate to suggest such a thing,” Chandi said, not sounding as if she hated it very much. “Perhaps it is simply an issue of personal attraction? Is it possible that you are simply not Alexander Warner’s type?”

Emily blushed ever more furiously, and wished desperately for a hole she could crawl in, a meteor to strike the building, a fire to break out – anything to get her away from the office and this horrible conversation. She could see her chances of staying at the Academy dwindling in front of her while they talked, and her mind scrambled desperately for defenses, excuses, rationales that would keep her here.

“I am certain that he does,” Emily insisted, feeling ashamed. “But things with Alex are complicated.”

“Be that as it may,” Chandi said, frowning. “We are here to deal with complicated situations, yes? Now, could you tell me who this ‘Eerie’ person is, and why her last name doesn’t appear in any of my files?”

Emily’s heart had already sunk, but at the mention of that girl’s name, her heart seemed to fall right through the floorboards, and she was not sure where it stopped. Emily wondered who had ratted her out, and if there was any way at all for her to stay at the Academy, after this. The thought of returning to her home a failure was poisonous, but once the idea entered her mind, it spread like wildfire, sapping her of her poise and confidence.

“Eerie is a changeling. I don’t know if she even has a last name,” Emily said, more bitterly than she intended. “She is our classmate, and also friends with Alex.”

“I see,” Chandi noted primly. “Then, perhaps the changeling is the ‘complication’ in the situation? Warner appears to spend a fair amount of time with her, not to mention that strange business in San Francisco.”

Emily fought the urge to hang her head, blinked back the stinging tears from her eyes. She was not, she decided, giving Tuesday the satisfaction of breaking down. If she were going to cry, it would not be here.

“Eerie is interested in Alex, I suppose. She’s certainly managed to get my way several times. However, she’s a Changeling – she is not, well… sane or normal. She’s not even human! I can’t imagine that Alex would fall for her.”

“She is your rival for Alexander Warner’s attentions, then?”

“You don’t understand, Miss Tuesday…”

Again, Chandi interrupted her with that annoyingly confident and solicitous smile.

“Let me tell you what I do understand, Miss Muir, and you can correct me when I am mistaken.”

She flipped quickly through the pages in front of her, settling her finger on a specific line, but Emily did not believe for a minute that she had actually had to look it up. The files were a prop, nothing more. After all, Chandi Tuesday was a precognitive.

Emily didn’t know much about how precognition worked on a practical level. Like everyone else at the Academy, she had studied probability grids and matrices in homeroom, and she understood the basic theory. As Vivik had explained patiently to her one cram session, precognition wasn’t so different from empathy, in that every precognitive had a different way to perceiving possible futures. Some precognitives experienced visions like ancient Catholic saints, often in the throes of epileptic seizures. Others had prophetic dreams, and woke screaming and crying over potential tragedies, still years away and uncertain. Perhaps the most coveted were precognitives who used a codified system of visualization techniques, perceiving potential futures as a tangle of threads, a pattern of multicolored lights, or even as wholly fictional roadmaps. With one important consistency – precognitives did not actually
see
the future, but rather various possible futures.

The main thing Emily had taken from Vivik’s lecture was the knowledge that precognitives couldn’t interact with the world around them in a normal way, tormented by the burden of their abilities. They were bad with people, the inverse of an empath. Vivik claimed that an abnormal percentage of them were subject to autism and schizophrenia. Certainly, it was rare for one to attend the Academy; assuming the rumors about Anastasia Martynova’s protocol were wrong, then Chandi Tuesday was among the few in the student body. The rest, according to the stories she had heard, were kept in isolation, hidden away in old family manors and behavioral institutions, working in seclusion or in ‘pools’ with other precognitives. For all her arrogance, all her self-assurance, Emily was starting to see that Chandi was no exception, that she also didn’t ‘get’ people.

“What I understand,” Chandi continued haughtily, “is that your relationship with Alexander Warner is nothing more than a friendship. I believe that you overstated your progress in the reports you submitted to the Hegemony, in order to secure your position here at the Academy. Furthermore, it appears that you failed to report the advances of this,” Chandi paused distastefully, “Eerie, or her success relative to your own. It seems entirely possible to me that your misrepresentation has allowed this changeling an opportunity to get close to Warner, when another Hegemony operative might have had more success, had you been forthright enough to inform leadership and step aside. Now, Miss Muir - where am I wrong?”

Chandi Tuesday was so smug and self-satisfied that she did not even notice the change in Emily’s demeanor when she spoke.

“Well, Chandi,” Emily said, putting emphasis on her first name, “do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“I suppose,” Chandi allowed, peering at Emily suspiciously through her comical glasses.

“Thanks,” Emily said cheerfully, as if they were friends having a chat. “Tell me, have you ever had a boyfriend?”

“What?” Chandi said, gasping audibly.

Emily felt a cruel satisfaction. Whatever precognitive abilities Chandi possessed, they clearly had not helped her anticipate the conversation going in this direction. Her confidence grew commensurately; after all, if Emily had blindsided Chandi once, then she could do it again.

“No offense,” Emily continued casually, twirling a lock of her hair in one hand, “but I’m guessing you’ve never been with a guy, right?”

Chandi’s hand froze halfway on its way to cover her gaping mouth. Emily scored another point for herself on her mental chalkboard. She had figured that any girl raised in Abu Dhabi would have to be a prude, even if she didn’t wear a headscarf.

“Well, Chandi, I have,” Emily continued cheerfully. “And believe me, I know when a guy is interested. And Alex is definitely interested. But with that boy, things are never simple.”

Tuesday’s composure was slipping. If Emily needed any more proof than the way her face had gone pale, she could now make out the faintest indications of a halo over her head, thin and transparent, too faint to read, but unmistakably visible. Emily said a brief mental apology to Alex for the confidence that she was about to break, promising herself that she would make it up to him, and then plunged on ahead.

“Alex has a history, Chandi, and it’s a bad one. Something happened with his family before he came here, and he took the blame. Now he has trouble trusting anyone, much less an empath that he knows has a stake in recruiting him. Despite all that, I have gotten through to him. We had breakfast together this morning, for God’s sake. He is starting to trust me. I know that he likes me. But this isn’t going to happen according to a timetable.”

Chandi cleared her throat, looking uncertainly from one side to the other, as if she was seeking support from invisible companions.

“That all may be as you say, but your instructions were not to make friends with Alexander Warner…”

“Alex,” Emily said firmly. “He likes to be called Alex. Moreover, my instructions were to build a relationship with him, to make him trust me, to make him fall in love with me, if it all possible. And that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Chandi appeared to be restoring her composure, little by little, her eyes seeking the reassurance of the files in front of her automatically.

“But if this Eerie person has managed to spend the night with him…”

“Nothing happened,” Emily said, shaking her head.

“How do you know?”

“Check the files, Anastasia Martynova was in that room with them,” Emily said, taking a deep breath before saying the thing she knew she would hate herself for later. “Besides, Alex is a virgin.”

Chandi’s eyebrow started its creep upward again, and Emily could not help herself.

“And you know how difficult that makes these things,” she added sweetly.

Chandi blushed, and then turned her attention back to the files, transparently playing for time while she reviewed records. Emily shifted in her seat while she waited for a response, wishing she could leave, not daring to. She managed to keep her feelings of guilt at bay for now. It wasn’t as if she had a choice. Revealing Alex’s secrets was the only way she could see to stay at the Academy.

“I see,” Chandi said, finally looking up from the files in front of her. “At the very least, you have succeeded in becoming his confidant.”

“Yes. At least.”

“Which leads me to believe that your chances might be better than I had originally suspected,” Chandi said grudgingly. “I will be generous. You have until the start of summer session.”

“What?” Emily asked, shocked. “You’ve got to be kidding. That’s not even two months.”

“That’s right,” Chandi confirmed, clearly enjoying paying Emily back for her earlier brashness. “The Hegemony cannot wait any longer. In the meantime, we will put contingency plans in place, in the event that you should fail.”

“You’re already bringing in replacements?” Emily protested. “You’re not giving me a chance…”

“On the contrary,” Chandi said, closing the file in front of her emphatically. “I’m giving you more of a chance than I am inclined to. Whatever you are planning, I suggest you do it soon.”

* * *

Vivik had a number of fantasies, extremely private ones, which involved Emily being in his room. Moreover, this was the most intimate contact he had ever had with her, and they were very much alone. And sitting together on his bed, no less.

If he felt a little bitter that she was crying, quite literally into his shoulder, then he also felt that he merited some forgiveness. Vivik patted Emily’s back clumsily, overwhelmed with the normal male confusion and dismay in the face of a woman’s tears, unable to put the fact that he could feel her bra strap underneath her sweater when he touched her back completely out of his mind. It was hard not to feel conflicted when Emily was sitting on his bed, pressing her face against his chest, while sobbing over his friend, classmate and neighbor.

“There, there…” Vivik said lamely, casting about for something comforting to offer her. “Can I get you a tissue or something?”

He regretted the statement as soon as he finished making it, but it Emily carried on crying as if he hadn’t said anything at all, which might have actually been for the best. He let her continue for a few more minutes before he tried again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Vivik asked hesitantly, not at all sure that he wanted her to.

Emily said something unintelligible, her voice muffled and her face still pressed against his damp shirt.

“What?”

Emily sat up, rubbing her eyes and then wordlessly accepting the tissue that Vivik offered her, discreetly wiping her eyes and sniffling. Vivik made a conscious effort not to look at the wet patch on his shirt that stuck uncomfortably to his skin.

“Is that it?” Emily asked him, her eyes wet and trembling, the tissue clutched in her hands.

“Is what it?”

“Her chest!” Emily howled miserably, again burying her head in his shirt, this time using the other shoulder. “Is that it? Is that why he’s so obsessed with her?”