Toronto, ON: Wednesday, August 20
As the last remaining skyworm’s body breaks apart with the violence of an orange splattering against an invisible wall, a deeply familiar presence strikes like a lightning bolt through Dave’s mind.
Jason!
Jubilant, he turns as his chosen brother steps through a hole in a swirling cloud of xhen. On the other side of the strange purple-black aperture, Dave glimpses an air traffic control tower and a swatch of tarmac. The hole swirls shut behind Jason, burning away the last of Dave’s worries about his continued absence. Jason’s state of mind, however, is another matter.
Shock, anger, shame, and a razor-sharp sense of alertness radiate from the topmost layer of his mind. Underneath that is a faint sliver of awe at traveling so great a distance in such a way. His filthy white dress shirt and khakis cling to his lean body. Grime streaks the long bones of his handsome face. His black hair, longer than Dave’s, is plastered to his head. Dave rapidly sifts through Jason’s unfiltered mental broadcast, each fragmented image as strong as Anna’s were in her garage.
After forty-eight hours of intensive practice, it takes Dave only seconds to sift Jason’s memories into a cohesive picture. Despite the day’s considerable losses, he grins as his brother’s triumph over the black skyworm unspools in his head, shot through with midnight-purple xhen. This stubborn jackass, he thinks fondly, remembering the alley behind his parents’ house. He’s got teleportation after all.
“The last orange one escaped toward the lake, but it was wounded,” Jenna announces, coming up on Dave’s shoulder. “It made sure to keep low and out of sight. Do you think it’ll come back with reinforcements?” When he shrugs, she nudges his side, gesturing at Jason. “Who’s that?”
Dave gives her a chagrined smile as thirty years of backstory catch on his tongue. “Anna’s twin brother, Jason,” he manages after a moment. “He’s like a brother to me, too.”
It’s not much of an explanation, but Jenna nods, her emotion cluster tired but content. “Cool. How many more of you are there?”
“Unclear,” he says. “There’s always been the three of us. Anna thinks the six teenagers who died in the attacks on Sunday and Monday night were all like us, too, but untrained. There may be more.” Her curiosity flutters in his head like butterfly wings, but she’s so weary. They both are. Dave squeezes her arm. “Let’s worry about that later.”
Jenna’s dirt-smeared smile is wry. If we live that long.
He smiles back, pleased to hear her answer mind-to-mind. Having someone who can teleport will transform our strategy. I don’t think Jason’s got anyone like you to help him yet, so let’s help him get a head start in thinking through the ways we can use the mobility upgrade he brings.
Intrigue flickers in Jenna’s mind as it begins to churn with possibilities. Sure. She hands him her xhen knife.
Dave reabsorbs the energy, pleased by how easily he and Jenna have found a groove. I can trust her, he decides. Thank you, Creator, for sending me a strategist as strong as Hal.
“Jay!” Anna shouts, shaking Dave from his reflective thoughts. She staggers toward her twin, eyes luminous in her exhausted face.
They’re dressed the same, Dave realizes as he starts toward them, two figures in grimy khaki and white. On any other day, it would be funny. Their mother loved to tell the story of Jason’s refusal to wear matching outfits when the twins were in junior kindergarten.
“Do you believe me now?” Anna demands as she hugs Jason. “I told you I wasn’t bullshitting.”
“Yeah, well.” Jason steps out of the hug and crosses his arms. “Rub it in later.”
Here we go. Dave sighs, lengthening his pace toward them.
Anna pulls away from Jason, visibly stung. “I didn’t mean it that way.” She gestures at the surrounding mayhem, her joy at his appearance fading. “We knew there had to be more behind what happened to us.”
Anger and shame crackle from his mind as Jason bristles at Anna’s words. “I didn’t,” he says curtly. “And neither did you.”
Anna flinches and then sags, her bone-deep exhaustion matching Dave’s own.
Stop it, guys. Dave eyes them both as he steps past Anna to hug her twin. Welcome home, man.
Jason freezes for a split second in stunned surprise before he hugs Dave back. As he pulls away, the ghost of a smile touches his lips. “You really can do that.” His eyes brighten with a flash of the true wonder that Dave remembers from their teens. Then he frowns. “You stink, Dave.”
“Take a shower in skyworm guts and see how you smell,” Malcolm says as he joins the group, still holding his blue xhen knife. “Glad you finally made it to the party, Doc.”
“Malcolm.” Jason shakes his brother-in-law’s hand without seeming to see him. His eyes are focused on the gleaming weapon. Then he looks at Nina and Carl standing behind Anna and Malcolm, matching knives in hand. Anna flicks her fingers. As the blades vanish, she turns to silently look at her brother with an open challenge in her eyes.
Ohhhh, Annie, Dave thinks as Jason’s expression hardens by another minute degree. You’re not helping your cause here.
Ignoring her, Jason focuses on Malcolm. “Anna brought you into this mess, too?”
“Yeah.” Malcolm looks from twin to twin, equally accustomed to being a spectator to their arguments. He gestures at the other side of Queen’s Park. “We need to get out of here.”
Everyone turns. Police and emergency vehicles are arriving in force, jamming University Avenue’s uncharacteristically empty northbound lanes. As they watch, a small fleet of Humvees painted military green and black pull in on the southbound side.
Dad won’t be far behind, Dave thinks.
“I’m staying,” Anna says, sorrow clouding her face as she stares across the grass at her fallen tarkan. Malcolm automatically puts an arm around her. Nina lifts a hand as though tempted to do the same, and then stops. She and Carl glance at the police cars, and then at each other, their wariness palpable. “I have to explain what happened,” Anna continues, oblivious to their discomfort.
“No,” Malcolm says. “You need food and rest.” She starts to protest. Malcolm takes his hand from Anna’s elbow. Without his support, she staggers. Anna glares, as irate at being confronted with the limits of her endurance as any of the young coders Dave once led. “You’re leaving.”
“I’ll stay,” Dave says. “Dad and I are overdue.”
Anna nods. “Tell him I’ll meet with their families. Once everyone is over the shock.”
Before he can agree to pass the message, there’s a tug on his arm. “We’ll stay,” Jenna corrects.
“Fine.” Dave looks at Malcolm. “What about you?”
Malcolm shakes his head. “Anna and the team are my priority.” His dark eyes flick to the bodies still scattered in the road. “It pains me to say it, but we lost Raymond and Krista because they didn’t accept their new roles fast enough. I should have explained it better to them.” He swallows hard before looking at Dave. “The chief will know by now that I’ve resigned. I’d appreciate anything you can do to help him understand.”
“Will do,” Dave says, trying to hide his surprise. Malcolm’s commitment to policing has always struck him as iron clad. “Where will we find you?”
“Our house,” Anna says, studying her husband’s face.
She didn’t know either, Dave realizes.
“Mom and Dad’s place,” Jason counters.
Malcolm nods. “That’s better.” He turns to his wife, grimacing. “Nancy Coleman outed us a few minutes before I left the station. Our house will be a circus.”
“She really went there, huh?” Anna murmurs, shaking her head. “We need a car, then. Or, I guess, a van.”
Jason shakes his head. Xhen flashes around his dirty clothes, wrapping him in a purple-black cloak. Eyes closed, he makes another opening about half a foot higher than he is tall and as wide as three people. Through the hole’s crackling edges, cherry trees sway beneath the summer sun in Chun-Mei Lin’s rose garden in North York, a suburb of Toronto some twenty kilometres away. The image is hazy, as though seen under heavy glass, but there’s no mistaking the location. More fascinating to Dave is the array of images seeping from Jason’s mind: rings of hexagons layering his xhen and the surrounding landscape.
Like code, Dave thinks in wonder. Ordering the world.
Cries of alarm from the official response interrupt his contemplation as soldiers emerge from the Humvees, guns drawn. Their minds bristle with fury. Time to go! Dave broadcasts.
Nina jumps through the portal. “All clear,” she calls back.
Anna hesitates.
“Go,” Dave urges her. “I’ve got this.”
His chosen sister takes one last look at her dead, oozing regret, before allowing Malcolm and Carl to escort her through the portal. Jason follows. The opening closes, its residue fading to a grid of faintly hexagonal shapes before it completely vanishes.
“Follow my lead,” Dave tells Jenna and drops to his knees. He laces his fingers behind his head. The soldiers are closing fast, helmet visors drawn over their faces. Rage froths in their minds. Tasting it, Dave guesses exactly how little the truth will matter in the next few seconds. Could I command them to stop? Would speaking to them mind-to-mind make this worse or better?
“What?” Jenna says, breaking his concentration as she kneels at his side. “Why? We saved—”
“All they know is that police and military have died violently, and we were involved,” Dave says. He takes her hand to rapidly share a memory. He’s fifteen years old, listening to Henry Montcalm instruct him in how not to resist an arrest.
You don’t talk back, his dad had said. Or glare. Or move too fast. Don’t ever reach into your pockets. Make yourself small. He remembers how he’d reacted, full of the same indignation as Jenna.
Your size alone will intimidate most people, his dad continues in the memory. Intimidated police make bad decisions, Davy. They won’t see the good person you are. They won’t see me and our family, or your Auntie Lee and the fine people you come from. They’ll see a big Native guy, and they’ll project every bias they don’t know they carry onto you. His dad’s younger face burns in his mind’s eye, anguished. I won’t insult you: It’s not fair. But until things change, you’ve got to survive in the city we have. Do you understand, Davy? If you run into trouble, you have to help them see you until I get there.
What if they can’t, Dad? he’d asked, spreading hands already so much bigger than his dad’s in a wide, beseeching arc. What if I scare them too much?
And for the first time in his life, Dave had watched his dad cry.
He blinks away the memory as Jenna, tears in her eyes, puts one hand behind her head. She grips his forearm with the other, radiating strength and reassurance. I’m with you.
“I’m Dave Montcalm,” Dave announces in a carrying voice. “My father is Henry Montcalm, Chief of the Toronto—”
But he doesn’t get to finish. The soldiers surround them, shouting, as rough hands wrench his arms behind his back.