1

SEPARATED

I ENTERED THE ballroom in Delhi with my head held high, conscious mainly of the human press as I gripped the arm of the ancient seer standing next to me.

The reality of my newfound status in the human world hit like a blow to the face. 

News crews slammed up against the velvet ropes like rampaging cattle, held back only by the line of seers covering security as I entered the long hallway. I could feel the vids crackle electrically as they caught my every facial expression. Self-consciousness about the dress flickered around the edges of my light, even as I fought to hold my expression still, befitting of the image I’d practiced projecting for days in front of mirrors in the Pamir. 

It was my coming out party, I supposed. 

I tried to keep my face neutral at least, if not exactly happy. 

Vash agreed to accompany me, after much debate amongst the remaining elders on the Council of Seven...and in spite of Balidor’s near heart attack when he heard the details of my plan to approach the humans. I wasn’t offended, or even particularly dissuaded. Balidor’s job was to entertain such misgivings, and I desperately needed him to do his job...especially now, with half the world on the brink of all-out war. 

As leader of the Adhipan, the elite unit of infiltrators charged with protecting the Seven’s elders...and, incidentally, me...Balidor had a heavy load these days.

I wasn’t insensitive to that either. The problem was, I couldn’t afford to stay as safe and behind closed doors as Balidor would have liked. Doing so, in fact, would be akin to hunkering down in a cave...literally, in my case...and waiting for the Apocalypse while roasting marshmallows. 

I couldn’t bring myself to go that fatalistic. 

At least not yet.

“You look lovely, my dear,” Vash murmured in Prexci, likely to get my mind off that train of thought. “Do you suppose we should venture inside?”

Realizing I’d been standing on the foyer for a few seconds too long already, I squeezed his arm briefly, using my fingers to acquiesce in seer sign language. When I looked up, his dark eyes held a faint affection, but I saw the worry there, too. Balidor wasn’t the only one who thought this move of mine verged on suicidal...reckless, at the very least. But if ever there was a time that the human world needed to see a relatable face representing the seers, it was now. 

The press followed us the rest of the way to the stairs, their lights illuminating the dark red rug that ran up the marble steps between massive columns. 

Careful not to trip in the long dress, I made it all the way to the top of the next landing before I looked back on the crowd following us.

That time, I managed a smile.

I watched the press for a moment, thinking about how I had gotten here, how strange it was that I would offer to take this role after fighting it tooth and nail for the past year while seers tried to convince me that their mythologies and prophecies were true. I still didn’t really believe them. But the seers had decided I was the Bridge, a seer version of the chosen one...or one of them, anyway. Supposedly I had been born to lead them, to help both humans and seers through this semi-apocalyptic time, as humans prepared to evolve to a higher form.

Yeah, I know. Sounds crazy. 

To me, too...but like I said, I’m not really the sit on the sidelines and watch the world go up in flames type. 

Vash tugged on my fingers a second time, as if feeling this on me, too.

“They are waiting for you, my dear,” he said softly.

I nodded, gazing down over the crowd. 

I tried not to think about what else had brought me here, or the fact that he might be watching me even now on the live feeds, along with however many million humans and seers. I still couldn’t think about him without an almost desperate degree of grief. More than that, I felt responsible, in ways I hadn’t even begun to catalogue yet.

But I should have known better than to think about him at all...even there, surrounded by the Adhipan and Vash and a few dozen other infiltrators.

A voice rose softly in my mind.

I like the gown, love, he murmured.

I froze, fighting to keep my reaction off my face.

His pain slid into me, coursing through every vein in my body. 

You look... He let his light linger, softly sensual. ...good in a dress. Better than good. Fuckable beyond belief...

His pain intensified, grew more specific. 

I fought it back, but my light flared...bright around my form.

Vash stiffened, grasping my fingers on his arm.

...Not that you don’t always, the voice added, softer. His light slid deeper into mine, slow, taking his time. But dearest, I admit... The endearment made me flinch. ...I’ve got a hard-on you wouldn’t believe right now. What do you say? How about we blow off the party for a few hours, so I can show you...?

He opened more. I let out a low gasp, my light coiling into his even as I fought to pull it back. 

Then my heart clenched, really hearing his words.

Vash had already started to draw me away from the cameras’ lights, when Balidor exploded out of the line of guards to my left. The senior infiltrator appeared in a heartbeat, seemingly out of nowhere, clutching my bare arm in his fingers as he pulled his sidearm, keeping his body in front of mine. He wore a classic black tuxedo and it struck me that he looked pretty James Bond with his oddly human-like good looks and light gray eyes.

Shouts rose from the humans as the gun grew visible. I looked down the stairs, dimly aware of the press as they reacted in alarm below, now stampeding in the opposite direction, towards the glass doors. 

Balidor’s stance didn’t falter.

“Is he here?” he said to me, his gray eyes scanning faces. “Alyson! Is he here? Alyson! Answer me!”

I felt a flicker of amusement right before the presence evaporated from my light.

“HELLO,” I SAID, clearing my throat.

The organic mike picked up my voice, and the word echoed across a ballroom that might more accurately be called an amphitheater. Round tables covered in white cloths, dishes and thin-lipped tulip glasses spiraled out from the stage in a symmetrical pattern. The five-star hotel in New Delhi was housed in an old, mansion-like building built in colonial times. It was owned by seers, which was the only reason Balidor agreed to having it there.

Why that reassured him now, I had no idea. Perhaps it just made the logistics easier, in terms of taking over the Barrier construct the locals already maintained. 

“Thank you for coming,” I added.

The press sat in the front rows, taking up more than half of the chairs in the long room. These were the elite corp though...not the scavengers we’d met outside. Knowing they risked being kicked out by an overzealous Adhipan, they sat perfectly still at their white-clothed tables, only the lights on their image capturing devices active as they waited. At the expectant and slightly bored looks on their faces, I knew they were waiting for me to finish saying whatever I had to say...so they could get to why they’d really come.  

Behind them sat a more varied party; representatives from the few countries I could get to even acknowledge my invite. The United States sent an underling of some kind, probably the nephew of the undersecretary of transportation, but at least they’d come at all. China politely ignored my invitation, as I’d expected. Italy, France and Sweden represented at least a fraction of Europe, but Germany, Austria and Switzerland ignored me, too. So did Japan. South Africa ignored me, but Mozambique, Niger and Zimbabwe sent people. So did Canada, Mexico, Uruguay, Cuba and Panama from the West. 

Brazil ignored me, as did Argentina and Peru.

No one came from the Middle East, but that didn’t surprise me, either.

Standing in front of several hundred people in formal wear was even harder than I’d imagined while practicing for this speech. 

Even so, something kicked in once I stood behind the podium.

Maybe it was Vash and the others, holding me up from some place inside the Barrier. Maybe I retained some faint memory of the small amount of acting I did after college, or the speech and debate classes I took in high school. Maybe it was sheer dumb luck, or all the practicing I’d done.

In any case, the words came easier than I expected, and not too fast.

“I know what many of you are thinking,” I said. 

I paused, looking out over the spread of humans who watched me silently from velvet-backed chairs. 

“I am aware of what I am to many of you. What I symbolize, at least...” 

I paused again, giving them another second to hear this. 

“...I am hoping you can listen past that, to my words.”

I straightened, aware of the heat of the lights on my shoulders.

“...My name is Alyson May Taylor,” I said clearly. “And up until a year ago, I thought I was just like you.” I paused again. “...I was raised among humans, like most of you were. I loved my brother...a human...and my parents...also human. I had human friends. I went to a human school. I had a normal, human job. I dated human boys...” 

Feeling a pale stab at my light, I glanced sideways, faltering less than a heartbeat. 

“...And I feared seers,” I finished. “Just like you.”

I paused, looking around at them once again. 

It was quiet enough that I could hear the stray cough.

“I am not here to convert you to any religion,” I said. “Nor am I here to defend the actions of any of my kind...not even my own. I am here to make a plea...for peace.” I paused once more to take in the blank sea of faces, partly-obscured by the lights shining in my eyes. I took another breath. 

“Things have escalated, it is true. I know there is distrust. Fear. Anger on both sides...and cause for it, again on both sides. I know there have been unconscionable acts of war...” I looked around at faces, saw that most of them were still with me, more or less. 

“I know people have died. Too many people,” I added.

Again I paused, looking around at them.

“...The only way to stop this,” I said. “...is for some of us to stand up. To demand that it stop. To not do the easy thing, and let the fear and madness take us to the brink...along with all of our brothers and sisters...

“It will not help us to assign blame,” I added, gripping the podium in my hands. “...It will not even help us to be right. We can, all of us, be right. We can be right all the way up to the moment the first bomb drops...and it will not save either of our peoples. It will be cold comfort to our children, too...”

I waited another beat, then glanced at Vash.

“I did not ask to be the leader of these people,” I said, looking at him a beat longer, taking in his kind eyes. “Nor do I think I have the experience, or the skill to do them justice in this regard. I am not one who was raised in their laws...” 

I paused again, looking around the room, taking in faces, forcing myself to see them as real.

“But I accept that they wish it of me,” I added, my voice final.

“...I have agreed to take up this mantle, for however long I am able to be helpful in this role...and I hope that the one thing I bring is an understanding of humanity from the inside.” I swallowed. 

“...You are my people, even if I am not yours.” 

Feeling rose in me as I saw my adoptive brother, Jon, smiling at me from the front row, his eyes holding an open pride. 

“I do not share the opinion of some of my race,” I said. “...Who feel that war is the only language that humans understand...”

Another mind whispered by mine again, but I brushed it aside. 

“I hope you will help me,” I added. “...In proving them wrong.”

For a long moment after I spoke, there was silence. 

Then a scattering of applause made its way disjointedly around the room. I tried not to notice it came from less than half of those present. Or that to call it polite would be, well...polite. 

Again, his humor rose. 

I tried to push him out of my light, but not before he spoke in my mind.

It’s not you, love, he sent, soft, apologetic. Pretty words...well spoken. I almost believed you. 

He let me feel the sincerity behind this. It startled me a little...right before his light warmed, sliding deeper into mine.

But wife, he sent, softer. ...they can’t hear you.

I ignored that, too...and the sharp look I caught from Balidor when I glanced in his direction. His eyes asked a question I refused to answer.

It wouldn’t have made any difference. I didn’t know where he was.

I turned my attention back to the human audience.

Their patience had begun to ebb. They wanted to get to the question and answer period. I’d expected that, too; in fact, it was how I’d lured them there.

“All right,” I said, resigned. “Who’s first...?”

Hands shot up in the air, seemingly all at once.

I DID MY best. Pieces stood out in my mind after, as I caught my breath behind the heavy curtain of the stage, flanked by four members of the Adhipan and a young female seer who acted as some kind of retainer I suppose. 

Balidor’s paranoia hadn’t abated from the incident on the stairs, so I knew they’d probably be hovering over me the rest of the night. I still felt a little reassured when I saw Garensche, a cheerful giant the size of a house. He was the largest seer I’d ever seen in real life, apart from those mutant albino seers called Wvercians who came from China. 

Garensche patted me on the shoulder as soon as I stood close enough and told me it went about as well as could be expected. 

And anyway, he reminded me, it was only the first try.

The questions had been predictable, of course.

I pointed to the person behind the first hand I focused on.

“You. Yes, Kevin, is it?”

The man acted like I hadn’t spoken.

“Is it true Syrimne is alive?” he said. “That he’s your husband?”

I’d expected this, of course...so already had some idea of how to answer. Still, it wasn’t an auspicious beginning that they didn’t bother to throw in even one semi-polite question first.

Or even acknowledge that I’d spoken, for that matter.

Sighing internally, I tried to keep it off my face.

“He is alive, yes.”

“Is he your husband?”

I glanced at Vash, though I’d promised myself I wouldn’t.

I felt the other presence there, too, even before he spoke.

Careful, love...

“No,” I said, my jaw hardening. “Not anymore. We’re separated.”

I felt the presence react, sliding into and sparking around my light...right before he whispered away from me.

“So you are hunting him, then?” the human persisted. “You’re trying to kill him like the others?”

I swallowed, looking at the swath of faces around me, seeing the fear in them, the change in the seers who stood around me, as the atmosphere in the room instantly grew more charged.

“Am I trying to kill him? As in me, myself?” I said. “No.”

“Shouldn’t you be?” asked another human pointedly, a female.

To that, I could only sigh, looking at Balidor. The Adhipan leader only raised an eyebrow, his eyes mirroring the human’s question. 

Gritting my teeth, I turned, facing the rows of humans.

“Look,” I said. “Whatever you might think, I’m not qualified for that kind of operation...even if I desired such a thing.”

“Do you desire his death?”

“I don’t desire anyone’s death,” I said, short.

“But he’s responsible, isn’t he, for the destruction of the White House?” another woman persisted. “For killing hundreds in a seer attack on the capitol city of the United States? Don’t you feel it’s your duty, as a seer—”

“To what?” I said. “Kill one of my own kind? No, I don’t.” 

I bit my lip, forcing my light to calm down.

I should have been ready for this. I was ready for this, or so I’d thought. But he was there, listening. And it was like they’d all gotten together and decided to sequence their questions around Revik so that I couldn’t escape a single one.

“...And anyway,” I said, subduing my voice. “That’s not confirmed. That he was behind the attack on D.C., I mean. I was there, and I can tell you...things got pretty confused. I saw a lot of humans with guns, as well as seers. I saw planes that I couldn’t identify. Which is my point about this needing to come from both sides, this push to end the fighting before—” 

“But isn’t it true,” a fourth human said, before I could redirect. “...that he’s called upon seers...all seers, including those who ostensibly follow the peaceful path of the Seven...to rise up against humans as a race? To destroy the legitimacy of the World Court and SCARB, dismantle the current system of regulation over seer powers and overthrow human governments...? Isn’t he advocating,” the man said, louder, touching his earpiece. “...Overtly advocating...the use of violence to obtain these ends? To do whatever it takes to...and I quote...‘remind worms that we aren’t the same seers they cowed into submission all those years ago’...?”

I exhaled my held breath. 

Leaning my forearms on the podium, I just stared at the reporter for a moment. Then, using words I knew even then that I’d likely regret, I shrugged. 

“I honestly don’t know,” I said. “But probably.”

“Probably?” the reporter said, incredulous. 

“Yeah,” I said. “That sounds like him.”

Things pretty much degenerated from there.