5

BARRIER

 

I DIDN’T QUESTION the motion of the car at first.

It was kind of soothing, even if I struggled finding a comfortable resting place for my arms. A bump in the road brought my eyes abruptly open. Sky through a dirty windshield showed the faint pink and gold of pre-dawn.

The silhouette of a saint statue broke my view. It was glued to the dashboard above an old-fashioned FM radio with silver knobs.

My eyes traveled left, meeting an angular profile framed by black hair matted to a pale neck. Almond-shaped eyes sat above high cheekbones, taking in the road. He had the beginnings of five o’clock shadow. Flecks of a familiar-looking brown stained his shirt, which bulged from a crude, homemade bandage on his shoulder.

Feeling my stare, he turned. His eyes appeared cold even in the morning sun.

I tried to raise a hand...

And the motion of my arm was abruptly stopped.

I stared down at the handcuffs for a full minute before the reality of them penetrated. It struck me that my wrists were bare apart from the metal rings. So were my ankles; the GPS was gone but my ankles were now bound with hard plastic, like those tie-binders they used on reality cop shows. Leaning back, I used my weight to try and budge the only object I thought I had some chance of influencing, namely the plastic armrest.

When it stayed firmly affixed to the door, I looked up at him again, watching him stare at me. I translated his expression as disinterested puzzlement.

He didn’t try to stop me as I continued to test my limits of motion. My whole body hurt; I was bruised, dirty and felt half-naked under the dog-smelling blanket, even though I was reasonably sure I still wore the same clothes I had at work. My throat hurt. I was insanely thirsty. My neck had crimped while I slept against the car door. I thought about my mom in a kind of blurred panic. I started to scream, but that got a reaction from him.

“Be silent!”

His words jarred me. I’d forgotten about the German accent.

When I shut up, his eyes lowered, along with his voice.

“Don’t make me knock you unconscious.” He shifted in his seat, as if uncomfortable, or maybe just hearing his own words. “I would rather not.”

Hesitating, he glanced at my wrists.

My eyes started their waterworks thing. I couldn’t help myself. “Please don’t kill me,” I said. “Mom’s not even over dad yet...she’d never be able to handle this. She might really kill herself, I mean it...she’ll drink herself to death...”

His gaze drifted out the window. He seemed to sigh.

“Please! Mister, I...” My cheeks burned before I’d even said it. “I was always supportive of seer’s rights,” I ventured. “I was never one of those people who—”

He laughed, startling me back into silence.

Unsure how to go on from that, I was still fumbling with words when he turned, his eyes like two flat stones.

“I do not wish to kill you,” he said. “I am sorry for your mother. I truly am. There is nothing I can do.”

I absorbed his words.

I felt the blood slide from the veins in my face when it occurred to me that he really wasn’t letting me go. With the GPS gone, even the cops wouldn’t know where I was. Clearly, they’d be looking for me, though. I glanced out the dusty windows in a kind of desperation, but only saw a semi-truck a few hundred yards ahead.

When a car began to pass a lane over, I shrieked, banging on the glass.

He grabbed my arm, one-handed, forcing me around, so that I faced him. The strength behind his fingers made my muscles lock.

“No,” he said sternly, as if talking to a dog. “Do not make me put you to sleep.” His eyes flickered between mine. “If you need to hear it again, I will talk. Do you agree?”

I felt my muscles unclench as a part of me deflated.

Probably not a good idea to piss off the murdering seer who could read my mind and had me handcuffed to his car.

“Yeah,” I said. “Okay. Sure.”

He released my arm, returning his gaze to the road.

But he didn’t talk.

We drove in silence while I massaged my wrist. When I glanced up next, he was staring at my bare thigh, which had shifted out from under the ugly, gray blanket he must have put over me after he knocked me out.

Slowly, I retracted my leg, hiding it back under the blanket.

I’d forgotten all those other stories about seers.

Frowning, he averted his gaze. “I haven’t seen you in the flesh in a long time.” He gestured vaguely with one hand. “You are...larger.”

I said, “Oh.”

“You are safe with me, Alyson.”

I let out a low snort. I couldn’t help it.

“You say that a lot,” I muttered.

My fingers clutched the chain between the metal bracelets. I tried to think if there was any way I could talk him into unlocking the handcuffs...then remembered he could read my mind. That pretty much limited my options.

“Yes,” he agreed neutrally.

I faced him, biting my lip.

“So what are you?” I said. “A terrorist? One of those ‘unaffiliateds’ who want a seer nation? What?”

He made that soft clicking noise with his tongue. I watched him do it, fascinated in spite of myself. I remembered reading somewhere about seer language, how they used sign language in addition to verbal and telepathy.

“Alyson,” he said. “Killing him bought us time only. I’d prefer not to waste it while you assume my agenda is that of fictitious seers portrayed on your human news.” He glanced at my face. “I was sent to bring you back to our world. That is all. I would only kill you––”

Letting out a shriek, I slammed my shoulder against the door and window.

The man grabbed my forearm, roughly.

Once more, I found myself staring up at his face.

“...I would only kill both of us if my attempt failed. If I failed, Allie. Understand?”

I found myself staring back and forth between those clear, glass-like eyes. As I did, my shoulders relaxed involuntarily.

“No,” I said. “I don’t understand.”

“But you believe I will not hurt you.” I heard relief in his voice. “Good. That is good.” He released my arm, putting both hands back on the steering wheel. “We can talk now.”

But he didn’t talk.

I watched in disbelief as he sank deeper into the cloth driver’s seat, wincing from the gun wound in his shoulder.

“So you’re from another world,” I prompted, when he didn’t look over. “I remember reading some conspiracy theory about that...that seers are really aliens who seeded us from another galaxy.” I leaned against the car door, trying to find a comfortable place for my arms. I couldn’t, so eventually I gave up. Exhaling, I added, “I also heard one where you were all victims of some disease...or an asteroid that hit the earth back in the early years of human evolution.”

His eyes flickered to mine, reflecting puzzlement.

“Seriously,” I said. “If this isn’t about the terrorist thing, what do you want? Money? I don’t have any. Sex? There are easier ways, man. You’re not a bad-looking guy. One of my friends thought you were hot. I don’t know how she feels about seers, but knowing Cass, she’d try anything once.”

He frowned slightly, his eyes flickering back towards the road.

“Did someone hire you?” I said. “Do I have a rich crazy stalker this time?”

“You are the Bridge,” he said. “The Harbinger.”

“Great,” I said. “That’s what the other guy said.”

The man’s mouth firmed to a line. I got the sense my words irritated him, though.

“Terian likes his little games,” was all he said.

I waited, wondering if he would say more. But he didn’t.

Biting back impatience, I shook my head, as if to clear it. “So what kind of accent is that? German? I didn’t think any seers even lived in Europe anymore. I thought you were all in Asia, with the exception of a few who worked directly for—”

“You are not human, Alyson.”

When he didn’t say anything else, I broke into a shaky laugh.

“Okay. So you want to play that game again? Well, I’ve been tested, man. Like, hundreds of times. So pardon me if I think you’re full of shit. Whatever you’re trying to do, framing me as some kind of über-seer, Syrimne-wannabe, I don’t appreciate being the fall guy for whatever takeover trip you’ve got planned...”

He reached out without a word and laid a hand on my leg.

It wasn’t a sexual thing that time, but I sucked in a breath anyway, feeling him all around me, invisible hands shoving at me, pushing me out of my body until...

...I feel myself leaving.

I couldn’t stop it.

The car disappeared around me like a shadow in brilliant light. The road disappeared too, along with the mud-spotted windshield, the plastic saint statue glued to the dashboard, the handcuffs, my bruised legs, his shirt collar with the dried blood...

I passed through what felt like a stretched membrane...

 

...AND FIND MYSELF once again in that endless black and violet sky.

The colors shock me back into remembrance.

I remember this, from when we walked the streets of San Francisco.

Here, though, we are alone, surrounded only by distant stars and lumbering clouds. It is more than I can take in...the stars, the strange river-like currents I can feel, flowing above and below where we stand, filled with flecks of different-colored lights. A kind of prismatic wind ripples veins in my limbs, penetrating my light-filled skin.

I could spend hours looking only at him.

He stands beside me in the night sky, carved in detailed gold and white light. Bones, muscles, teeth, veins, irises, hair and skin are replicated in a million subtle shades and hues, all moving so fast that the colors appear almost to be stable. I only see their movement as waves flicker through the whole, changing him subtly and silently.

The space directly over his head fascinates me the most.

A line rises up from the crown of his head, filled with complex structures.

There rotate light-filled geometries, like living math equations rendered in multiple shapes and dimensions. Whatever they are, they look complicated, structured, but also strangely alive. I sense something there, too. The man’s presence lingers around them of course, but I also get a feeling of, I don’t know...function, I guess...as if those structures have a use. Whatever they are, I definitely get the impression they’re more than just a bunch of pretty lights.

One thing is for sure: he is nothing like the man in the park.

His light shines with a subtle clarity that is vastly different than Terian...and yet, he is not soft here, either. His eyes are diamond white, carrying a faint edge.

I am still staring when he points.

I see nothing at first. Nothing but clouds and stars.

Then I see movement. Beings dart from and into those massive thunderheads.

They remind me of old woodcuts of tentacled leviathans surrounded by underwater forests. Some are singing. Watching them, I know I should be more afraid.

The man watches me look.

They will not hurt you, he reassures me. Those kind are harmless.

My mind pauses on “those kind” then decides not to pursue it.

Where are we? I ask.

Instead of answering, he points down. Two long, twisting trails of light, one white and gold, the other a different shade of gold and white, loop languidly from our feet. I follow the course of those lights. At the bottom is a circle of blue daylight.

There, a black-haired man drives a car, blood staining the collar of his shirt. His hands grip a leather-wrapped steering wheel as he leans back in his seat, and next to him, a girl with matted blond hair with dark roots leans against the car door, her wrists handcuffed to the armrest.

I look dirty to myself, like some kind of vagrant or drug addict. I have a bruise on my face and dried blood at my hairline. My eyes are closed. Slumped against the door, my body bounces lightly from the car’s motion.

Landscape flows by as he steers the car down a frontage road. His eyes appear to shine white down there, too; I do not know how they would look to others.

To humans, I look normal, he says. After a pause, he adds, Your glowing eyes are unique in that regard, Alyson...although it is rumored that Syrimne shared this trait with you. Humans and seers can see it in the physical world when you operate your light at certain frequencies. It is something we can hopefully train you to control...

As he speaks, I watch his reconstructed veins pulse and plume more light.

There are several...oddities...in your make up, he continues. Your blood is undetectable as Sark...seer, I mean. Sark is short for ‘Sarhacienne,’ which is the real name for our race. The lack of discernible markers for your blood is an extremely rare condition. Only one in several hundred thousand seers have this. I have it, too. It is why they made me an infiltrator.

I am back to staring at myself inside that car, trying to convince myself that the rest of this isn’t real. He reaches out, catching hold of my light arm.

This is the Barrier, Esteemed Bridge. Do you recognize it?

I am forced to nod, which isn’t a nod of course, but a silent conveyance that feels like one. My heart isn’t really in it, but I feel his approval.

Good, he sends.

I’m not a seer, I say. I can’t be. It’s impossible.

My protests sound hollow, even to me.

Even so, I fight to hold on to that one thing.

I’ve read about your kind, I think at him. You play with people’s minds. You can convince them of anything...

This does not faze him.

You are right, he sends equably. But why would I do this with you?

I don’t have a good answer.

His opens himself somehow, and I feel more of him.

It is disconcertingly intimate.

You have known you are different from them, he says, letting me feel still more of his presence and light. You consciously chose to hide those differences...to suppress them wherever you could. His mind turns more pointed. You knew you weren’t human. You just didn’t want to know. So you pretended to believe the blood tests.

I don’t like this much, either.

His light begins to change, sparking in different-colored eddies that dance along his skin. I cannot help but watch. His veins pulse, changing from white-gold to orange and red rivers. The transformation is strangely liquid, fire-like. That fire starts from a particular structure over his head, leaking down through his light skull like thinned, living paint.

What are you doing? I ask.

I want to show you something, he says.

Show me what?

But he doesn’t answer me. Not directly.

Inside the Barrier, he says instead. There is only one rule...

The fire spreads to me, touching my light forearm first, where he holds me. Before the color has finished traveling to his waist, it is spreading into my transparent skin. Once it soaks my arm, it sears like ice, absorbed by my light bones.

Wait. I am fighting panic. Something’s wrong! Dehgo, whatever your name is—

Revik, he says. Dehgoies Revik. Do not be afraid. I am slowing it down so you can feel the process accurately—

No, Dehgo! Wait—

Revik, he repeats. Dehgoies is my family name.

The fire spreads up my shoulder. I struggle against his hold, panicking, but I can’t extract myself from his fingers, nor from that fire-like light.

...The rule is this, he continues, as if I hadn’t interrupted. To go anywhere you wish to go, to find anyone or anything inside the Barrier, you must become what you seek. Distance can impact this, and time. But ultimately, even these can be overcome.

Orange fire spreads to my stomach.

His body is all bright orange now, with the exception of one hand, which stubbornly remains a sparking gold-white. The denser orange sinks into my thighs, moving swiftly to my knees...

Wait! I shriek in the dark. Revik!

...Whatever you become, you are drawn to. This is called resonance. It is what you and I were born to do...

My left foot fills with liquid fire. Right as the last spot changes, his hand flushes orange. It occurs to me that he used that last piece of himself as an anchor...

When everything disappears.

I come out on the other end into the deepest silence I have ever felt.

Stars flicker in an expanse without clouds. Everything is so still and silent that a kind of wonder comes over me as I look around. Here, that same orange light he used to bring us here pulses in the sky. Gaseous clouds swirl in inexorable silence, a spiral with a fire-orange cloud at its center. We are swimming inside a nebula, I realize.

I watch flares arc over us and dissipate into the night.

It is heart-achingly beautiful.

He is pleased.

You like this? he asks. It is pretty, yes?

Are we...here? I manage.

He nudges my mind towards a particularly beautiful flare of light as it explodes outwards.

We are, he replies. But not in the physical, Esteemed Bridge. This is the Barrier. He watches as I look around, still exuding satisfaction. I thought it best to go first to a place where accidents were not so much of a danger.

I try to make sense of his words, can’t.

We float over unspeakable beauty for what could be minutes, days...

A part of me will never leave this place, I think.

...when suddenly, he changes frequency again.

The new vibration spreads more quickly this time. Several structures over his head are involved, working conjointly.

But I’m not ready to leave.

Wait! Can’t we stay a little longer?

You will only grow accustomed through doing. His presence exudes understanding, but his thoughts are firm. I want you to see that you can be anywhere, he says. With anyone...

Revik...wait!

The new frequency locks in. It is pale blue, the color of a virgin lake...

It rips me out of that flame-filled sky.

We pop out into a new night sky.

At once, I make out the familiar outline of Earth.

But Earth here is not the Earth as I’ve ever seen it, not even in satellite images. Light beings streak and hover over the shining blue sphere. They cluster over continents, attach themselves to other beings both lower and higher in the layers of atmosphere over the ground. They attach themselves to land masses and cities and even oceans.

The Pyramid hovers like a shadow over the largest concentration of lights.

It is huge here.

Even as I focus on it, he steers my attention firmly back to him.

Your interest in them is natural, he says. But it is too soon.

Again, I don’t understand.

I get the sense he knows this, but he doesn’t clarify what he meant.

Rather, he changes the subject.

It is possible to go more directly to the thing or place you seek, he explains, still keeping my attention focused on him, and away from that bright cage of Pyramid-shaped light. I thought you should see where you are, first. So you would know you can do this, too.

He pauses then, his thoughts carefully polite.

...Do you have any questions?

I laugh. I can’t help it.

Seconds later, we are descending through clouds, aiming for the surface of that light-filled world. As we begin to speed up, vertigo hits me for real, tinged now with an edge of exhilaration. We pass through a layer of rough, exploding light which I realize lives at the edge of the atmosphere. Fires spark my body like solar flares, curling around me and diminishing. Eventually they leave me entirely and the landscape unfurls below.

As we pass through, I begin to feel connections between people and other beings, feel the warm pulse of life, the mix of vibration...

I also feel a liquid surge of delight.

You do remember.

His light is all warmth again, relief mixed with a feeling that borders on affection. I know this should probably unnerve me, but it only makes me smile.

North America grows larger.

We descend towards the west coast, then California.

I laugh as San Francisco appears in a shower of sunlight over fog-blanketed hills and suspension bridges. Steel skyscrapers and brightly-colored homes grow larger, more diverse. The glittering bay shimmers a pale gold with the light bodies of plants and fish, darker near the marinas and docks, lighter again at the gates of the open ocean.

It is breathtaking. Stunning.

Yes, he agrees. It is still quite pretty.

I pause on his qualifier, then let it go.

Now the lights of people dominate, but I see every other living being as well; I am shocked by the variety of them, their different colors and vibrations. Hawks, blue jays and sparrows wing by. I see dogs running down the street, their outlines discernible through a blur of amiable light. Flies and gnats and ladybugs are pale dots; worms, cats, moles, snakes, squirrels, raccoons, rats, fleas, butterflies, trees, flowers, ants, gophers, beetles. They all flicker and shine separately yet remain connected in the overall matrix of light. Stranger still, if I concentrate I can feel each individual frequency, until it vibrates slightly with my own.

Then I start to see them, moving among the blurred human lights.

They are everywhere.

Chiseled outlines like the man beside me are present in nearly one in five collections of humans. Some walk in their own clusters, five or six or even ten of them together, speaking to one another animatedly, the faint outline of business suits and blue jeans, T-shirts and name brand coats visible around their lit forms.

Just as often, I see them alone, or with groups of blob-like humans.

I see seers attached to humans by the geometrical shapes that rise above their heads. It’s not hard to see that the communication isn’t equal; instead, it’s more like ventriloquist and wooden dummy. In some places, two or three seers control the humans in an entire building.

A kind of horror takes over as I see more and more seers controlling humans in this way.

So many, I say. How did they all get past the Sweeps? Past SCARB?

He senses my fear.

His light grows cautious.

SCARB isn’t interested in controlling all seers, he explains. Only those who are not owned. SCARB is also not officially aware of the Rooks, who are quite good at infiltrating human hierarchies, including SCARB itself. Many of the seers you see now are owned. Many are also Rooks, albeit low-levels ones for the most part, non-infiltrators. It is in the interests of both human and seer governments to keep this reality from civilians.

Wait, I send. You’re saying human governments—

Yes, he says, emitting a shrug. Does this surprise you? Although, as I said, even they do not know the extent of it. Some know this situation isn’t tenable. There is a sort of ‘cold war’ happening between the seers and the humans on many levels...

I don’t answer him.

Shrugging. he adds, There are more seers here than you see now, Allie. A trained infiltrator can eliminate their frequency from regular perception in the Barrier, mainly through blending with the lights that make up their environment.

Another thought trickles in, one that has already occurred to me.

They cannot see us, Allie, he confirms in answer to my unspoken question. At least not in a regular scan. I am shielding us. There are ways to track anyone, of course...

I stare down, trying to count them.

It is impossible.

Seers have only three real options, he tells me. We can live with traditional, religious seers in seclusion, and according to their holy precepts. It is not a bad life, but it is not for all seers, just as it would not be for all humans. The second option is to be owned...to sell our sight to humans. It provides some freedoms, providing one is skilled and has an employer who is fair. But it is risky...a kind of voluntary slavery.

He adds, The third option is to join the Rooks...or ‘the Org,’ as they call themselves. They are an underground network of seers with an anti-human agenda.

Which are you? I say, unthinking.

He pauses, letting me know that the question is, indeed, rude.

Presently, I am all but the third, he says then.

I watch a cluster of seers toy with a crowd of humans, changing their emotions back and forth like ocean currents. I feel their laughter as we pass.

They are no more dangerous than humans, he says, a little defensively. There are mature elements, and less mature. Kind, and less kind. Thinking, he shrugs. Some are bitter about being enslaved, of course...

I stare at him. No more dangerous than humans?

Well, perhaps that is an exaggeration.

You think? I burst out. What are you all doing here?

Surprise and anger flare his light.

What do you mean what are we doing here? We live here! Same as you!

I refocus on the seer lights, fighting back more words.

Those lights come in more colors than my mind has names for, their textures ranging from smooth as milk to jagged electric sparks. I notice they differ far more from one another than the lights of humans do, which all seem to occupy the same rough spectrum of gray.

Moreover, the seers are chameleons, changing their skin from contact with one another and threads of light through which they pass.

I feel my companion’s light change subtly and...

We pop out somewhere else.

I find myself staring at the glowing hands of a Betty Boop clock on the wall near the ceiling and it hits me that I am in the diner where I used to work. I watch blob-like human forms move through a catacomb of vinyl booths. Unlike before, I know a few of these blobs. When I concentrate a little harder, I recognize Sasquatch the cook, Cory behind the bar.

I try to determine if any of the light blobs are Cass––

To learn a place or thing from another’s light...this is called imprinting, he tells me. I took this one from you.

I look down. My light-feet are standing in a man’s plate of ham and eggs. He eats through my ankles, but I feel his light fingers and tongue and jerk away, repulsed. My companion grabs my light arm before I can float across the room.

I am what is called an infiltrator, he says. A seer trained to find things behind the Barrier. It is a trade, one that is learned, often at a young age.

A spy? I venture.

He doesn’t like this, I can tell.

Still, he shrugs it off.

A human equivalent might be espionage, he sends diplomatically. It is how my human employer sees it, certainly. For Rook infiltrators, the designation of espionage is more accurate. They do not follow Code and operate under a quasi-military structure, as you see reflected in the spatial representation of their network of seers.

At my bewilderment, he adds,

...the Pyramid.

I am back to looking around the diner.

I don’t understand, I say. How are we here?

Resonance, he sends. It is what we seers do. We resonate with things. Everything has a vibration. Every person, every place, every event. You can see a past event if you can recall its imprint, or if you resonate strongly enough with someone who was present. The future is more difficult. His light body emits a shrug. ...For obvious reasons. Even in the present, imprints change. People change, although usually not enough to fool an experienced tracker.

His light sparks, hardening and softening in waves.

There are exceptions, he adds. These things are very complicated in terms of functionality, Alyson, but the principle is simple. Resonance means things that have the same vibration are drawn to one another. Everything in the Barrier operates thus.

But what is this? I ask, waving a light hand over the diner. Are we on Earth?

Yes, he sends at once. ...And no. Reacting to my exasperation, he adds, It is a level of the Barrier. The Barrier is not material. ‘Where’ has a different meaning here. It is closer to ‘what.’ But we are close to the ‘what’ of Earth. Here, its ‘where’ is less important.

When I want to argue, he cuts me off.

...Simply grasp the basics for now. Your consciousness must learn to split in order to grasp it fully, Esteemed Bridge. All seers must learn to be in two places at once...to hold two views of reality at once. It is normal for us.

Without waiting for my reaction, he sends out a flicker of warning.

One other thing, he says, hovering over a family dining on hamburgers. And this is important, Allie. While it is true that the Barrier is where we seers have the most power, it is also the place we are most vulnerable. When you operate outside of the Barrier, you are invisible, Allie. Powerless, like a human...but untraceable. Inside the Barrier, you can be attacked.

I don’t know what this means, but fear ripples my light.

I look around, half expecting to get smacked out of nowhere.

I feel more than hear Revik sigh. I can tell I’m taxing whatever levels of patience he possesses. He turns his attention to the blurred human lights, and for an instant, I see through his eyes, an eagle’s view of all humans, everywhere.

It strikes me that really there aren’t so many seers, after all.

We have been around for much longer than humans generally believe, he says. In our mythology, humans are the third race. The first is Elaerian...the second Sarhacienne, or Sark, which is us. The third is human. Each race is said to destroy itself at a certain point in its evolutionary cycle, as a means of moving to the next level. Elaerian, the first race, no longer exist outside of the Barrier.

His light turns wistful before he focuses it back on me.

Sarhacienne means “Second” in the seer tongue, he adds. What humans believe to be their earliest civilizations were mainly remnants of ours. Egypt. Mesopotamia. Even parts of the Americas and Europe. It is said we did not have sight before the Second Displacement.

He gazes out over the sea of humans.

We did not notice at first when humans began to appear among the animals, he says.

I am trying to follow his words, but am lost in the images he sends me. I see white stone cities rising and crumbling to dust, chanting seers in caves high in the mountains, the strange, water-like Elaerian with giant glowing eyes and beautiful laughing faces.

We believe a third Displacement is coming, he sends, glancing at me.

Red starbursts color my light veins, changing them to a deeper scarlet. The diner starts to shimmer like smoke, then fade...

...When fingers abruptly clasp my light wrist.

He enfolds my body with his, and in no time at all, he is all I feel. The diner reemerges, the blobs of human light, the plastic cat crouching by the old fashioned cash register on the counter.

Even after it all comes back, he doesn’t let go of me.

What happened? he asks.

You’re kidding, right? How would I know?

He is upset though, which startles me. He continues to hold me tightly in his light arms. You must be calm when you are in the Barrier, Esteemed Bridge! Calm! Emotions change your frequency!

I’m sorry, I say, more out of confusion than knowing why I’m apologizing.

Do not be sorry...do as I say!

His fear still sparks through my light. I send calm to him, warmth. I do it instinctively, without really thinking about how or why...and I can tell it startles him, but it affects him, too, enough that he opens, letting me in. After a few seconds more, I feel him beginning to calm.

His light grows more and more still, until it is nearly serene.

Dangerous how? I ask him then.

He sighs, but still doesn’t pull away from me.

The Rooks are looking for you, he says. They would send many seers after us. More than I could handle.

So they really want me dead? These Rooks?

He hesitates. Yes. He pauses. ...Or with them.

With them? I think about this, remembering Terian’s words. And that would be bad?

We should not talk about this here, Allie.

I look around the diner, then ask anyway. So what is a Rook exactly? Just a renegade seer? One of the terrorists the news is always talking about?

He looks at me, his light once more a pale blue.

They are the enemy, he sends simply.