Harbinger (26 page)

29

NO. I AM NOT THE HARBINGER.

My head was dizzy with what Rita was saying. But this was not the whispering, vague-eyed girl I’d met that first morning by the Screamers. I compared the photograph with Rita again and saw the undercurrent of power that now ran through the lines of both faces.
Rita is M. H.

“Margaret Holbrook. My dad gave me the nickname Rita. The only decent thing he ever gave me. Nice to make your acquaintance.” Rita curtsied, and I noticed the puddle near her feet. Blue-gray water seeped under the door from the secret passageway.

“How?” I was starting to sound like a broken record.
How are you here? How is this happening? How can I get away?

“You haven’t let me get to the Happily Ever After. That photograph was taken a year after my parents died. When I was seventeen.”

Water inched up the soles of my boots, soaking into the leather. I ignored it and tried to focus on what Rita was saying. I made my face into a sympathetic frown. But that was the wrong thing to do.

Rita’s eyes glinted with anger. “Save your pity. They were nothing but an obstacle. My real Family was already long dead.”

Yes. My Family. Her words triggered a memory, and I thought of my double vision down on the beach this morning. Seven of us standing on a mountain. Connected to all things. Like the tarot card showed. Keeping true to The Circle.

Round and round. Round and round. Round and round.

Water trickled down the walls, leaving little glittering tracks in its wake.

Rita paced around the room as she went on. “But after my parents were gone, I was truly alone. I didn’t belong in this world, and there was nothing I could do to change that. I wasn’t strong enough. No. I still needed the Harbinger.” She spit the word at me. “You.”

No. I am Faye.

It was Kel who’d made us dig up the talismans. It was Kel in the prophecy. Kel was the Harbinger, not me.

Fear is an illusion.

The waves were biting at my ankles now. The sharp chill making them ache.

Not me.

“Yes, Faye. You were the one with the vision. You were the strongest of the Family. The one who felt most constrained by The Circle.”

I thought of the prophecy on Rita’s tarot cards.
Stronger than the others, the Harbinger peers far into the Future. There men will feast off of the Earth like maggots. There The Circle will fail the Family.

A door downstairs opened and closed, sending a shudder through the house. Making the rising water quiver.
Is it Kel? A Taker?
Anyone would be better than being alone with Rita. Watching her eyes growing wild.

Through the ripples, I saw the talisman lying on the floor. Rita’s talisman. It reminded me that this was all real, even if it seemed crazy. And impossible. The cold waves had made my muscles freeze up, but I forced myself to slosh over to the metal figurine. I reached down into the pooling water and grabbed it. I needed to wrap my hand around something solid.

“Oh yes. Now you’ve come to the crux of the problem. My talisman was found too early, more than a hundred years before your little group uncovered theirs. You didn’t see that in your vision, did you?” Her voice bubbled up in a high-pitched shriek that might have been a laugh. “I became the enchanting Rita Holbrook. Sharing her mind, we were bound together. To her decaying world. Stuck here waiting while your apocalyptic vision revealed itself. Factories spewing smoke. Airplanes and cars and submarines infesting every crevice of the Earth. Armies, outfitted with bombs and chlorine gas, marching across its face. The great triumphs of the modern age.”

More noises came from downstairs, and I begged whoever it was to hurry. I wanted someone between me and Rita. Rain drizzled from the ceiling, splashing onto the yellowed pages of the open books. Making the notes on my psychiatric evaluation run into blurry purple lines. Plastering my hair to my face.

“And even though the talisman gave me power, I wasn’t strong enough to rid the world of the maggots that feasted on its flesh. Not to mention, I was in the wrong time. Separated from my Family. From the Harbinger. But even in this body, I knew I still had
some
power. So I cleared the obstacles from my path.” Rita’s voice softened, her face almost looking tender. “Then I built this house. I commissioned the statues. I locked away the diary and the tarot cards and my talisman. All of it safely hidden so that only you would find it.

“So that when you finally came back, you would know that things had gone wrong and I’d already been here and gone.” Rita’s voice cracked. “Then one night, I turned my back on this crumbling world and walked into the sea.”

The room fell silent, except for the frothing waves. I imagined confused, insane Rita, dressed in only her white nightgown, taking one final desperate action. The image chilled me deeper than the icy flood.

Her bitter laugh cut through my thoughts. “That was the final insult. I should’ve known that one of the Family wouldn’t die so easily. The ocean claimed my living body and sent back this frail facsimile. I was doomed to stay here, watching the world rot. Until the time of the vision was near and the Harbinger chose a new body.”

The door flew open then, letting in a fresh gush of dark water. I’d never been so relieved to see another person.

“What are you doing here?” Dr. Mordoch stood in the doorway, wrapped in a robe. In the light from her flashlight, Dr. Mordoch’s pale hair looked more gray than blond and hung in thin wisps around her lined face.

I tried to think of an answer that would make sense. Then I realized she was looking at Rita.

Dr. Mordoch stumbled toward us, staring at Rita, the whites of her eyes showing. “You’re not even real. You’re a manifestation of my guilt. You were supposed to disappear when I brought Faye back.”

Rita looked from Dr. Mordoch to me, grinning maliciously. “I may have found a way to keep busy over the years . . .”

Dr. Mordoch cringed as she moved past Rita, wobbling a little as she made her way over to the rolltop desk. Hands shaking, she fumbled around behind the stack of books. She traded her flashlight for the bottle of whiskey, draining the dregs.

She pressed her hand to her forehead and then, her face composed, Dr. Mordoch turned back to me. “Faye, I’m sorry I didn’t watch you more closely. I’m sorry you were out on the beach that night. I’m sorry I ever brought you back here. But I couldn’t get rid of her any other way. All these years . . . she murmured in my ear . . . insisting . . . swearing that by rescuing you that night, I’d damned you. That we still had work to do. That I’d driven you away.”

Rita walked around Dr. Mordoch, circling her. “A hundred years I waited for you, Faye. Impotent. Powerless to leave. And when you finally arrive to enact the ritual, she ruins it.”

“No!” Dr. Mordoch covered her ears and I could see the terror Rita instilled in her. Dr. Mordoch reached out to me. “I tried to help you. I kept you from drowning!”

I didn’t know what to believe. Who to listen to. High silvery waves rushed in through the open door now. Tugging at my legs. It poured down the walls in great savage waterfalls.

Dr. Mordoch reached for the whiskey bottle again, forgetting it was empty. “I thought she was some kind of angel, showing me how to help you. If I could get you back, I could cure you of your hallucinations. Socialize you. Show you your place in the world. Later, I thought she was the devil. Now I don’t care. I just want her to leave me alone.”

The water crept up my chest. Its cold hands pressing in on my body. Cinching tight around my lungs.

Rita stepped in front of Dr. Mordoch, blocking her from my view. “You know I was right to make her bring you back here. You’ve felt the power of this place from the moment you arrived. Felt the dead places inside you stirring with life. The sea calling to you.”

“Yes.” It called to me now. Down the stairs, through the hallway full of arrows, I could hear the wave coming for me. It’d been building for almost ten years, since that night on the beach with Dr. Mordoch. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. “But I’m supposed to be the one who saves the world.”

“That’s right, Faye.” Rita’s voice was filled with a terrible certainty.

The roaring wave was getting closer now.
The water rose up my neck. Leaving salty kisses on my lips.

Rita smiled as she repeated the words of the tarot cards. “‘Only the Harbinger can wash this world clean.’”

I couldn’t get enough air. Frigid fingers squeezed my throat. My breath came in little gasps.

The frothing wave surged up the stairs. The roar shaking my bones. I didn’t try to run. It was too late. It’d been too late since my dad had abandoned me here. Since I’d almost drowned ten years ago. Since I’d first touched that wave.

The water closed over me. Its icy arms holding me under. Its howl blotting out everything else. Until the whole world went quiet.

And I remembered who I was.

30

I STAND ON THE BEACH,
staring out at the slate-colored water. The sky mirrors the stormy color, clouds overwhelming the horizon. It’s dry and calm here, but rain slashes the faraway sky, and lightning erupts without any thunder. My feet ache. I’ve been standing here for an hour, ever since I smelled the rain, watching for their canoe.

“Come eat something, little one.” A soft voice calls out behind me, but I ignore it until they go away.

I swear I can hear my parents out there. My father’s scream is tangled up with the seagulls’. I taste their fear on my tongue. The only time I take my eyes off the horizon is to look up at the mountain. Dark figures gather around the great boulder on the peak. The Family . . . who promised that the skies would be clear today. That the sea would be calm.

“Come inside. It’s almost dark.”

No.

“At least eat some soup.”

No.

My father told me he would teach me a new song when he came home. My mother promised that I could have the jaw from the swordfish she speared.

I stand there, waiting. As the storm clears. As night comes. As stars fling themselves across the sky, like debris on the water.

I’m at the top of the tallest pine in the valley. I hug the trunk, my feet braced on the branches, my cheek pressed into the rough bark. A year has passed since I lost my parents, and it’s summer again. Everything smells wild and green, and I can feel the sap running through the trunk. Like blood in my veins. From up here the wind murmurs secrets to me as it pushes me back and forth. Back and forth. I close my eyes. I feel like I’m flying.

Down below, my friend is about halfway up the tree. The boy turns his golden face toward me, his black eyes squinting. “I don’t want to go any higher.”

I shout down at him. “Scared like a field mouse.
Squee, squee, squee.
”

His face screws up in determination and he keeps climbing. I close my eyes again and fly.

It’s low tide, and the boy and I are collecting mussels. He’s older now. Maybe even a little older than me.

I reach for the basket, but suddenly, the boy takes my hand. His fingers are gritty, but they still feel nice wrapped around mine.

A crease folds his forehead. “They told me that I belong with the Family. That I’m needed to serve The Circle.”

“But my connection is stronger than yours! I can see farther.” I sound petulant, even to myself.

“Maybe.” He’d never actually admit it. “But you’re not thirteen yet.”

“You’ll be bored. Listening to the breeze all day. Endlessly advising strangers. You’ll hate it.”

But we both know that’s not true. The Family is powerful, the gifted ones. They see deeper and farther than everyone else. So we do what they say . . . even when they’re wrong.

The silence sits between us like a third person, eavesdropping. Then I say it. “You can’t leave me. You’re all I have.”

He leans close and kisses me. I feel the cool pebbles under his feet. The sun shining on his dark hair. His heart thudding in his chest.

Then he looks at me, and I see myself in his black eyes. Bright and fearless. “And you’re all I have.”

I stalk away from the village and walk down into the valley. I can’t bear to listen to the Family jabber on about the way of The Circle. Don’t they see how thin the people are? Don’t they hear the babies howling with empty bellies? But all the Family says is that there are times of plenty and times of scarcity. Balance in all things.

I can’t stand to watch the boy up there with them. Nodding his head. Looking solemn.

They offer to help track the deer, but it’s almost winter, and most of the herds have moved on. They say they can reach into the earth and help find more roots and nuts. Or watch for good weather for fishing. Since they’re
so
good at that.

Why don’t they
do
something? They can change things! I know they can . . . because I did it. Even if it was just an accident. I pull a handful of dried cranberries out of my bag and see if I can make it happen a second time.

Winter is coming, bringing the hungry cold, but I still feel summer in the cranberries. All those bright hot days glowing just under the wrinkled, maroon skin. I think of warm rains and the sun warming up the bogs. Of children splashing through the muddy water, popping ripe fruit into their mouths. Then I open my hand. The cranberries are plump and red, as if they’ve just been picked. I bite down on one and let the bittersweet juice burst on my tongue.

All year, since the boy’s been gone, I’ve felt my power growing. Now I understand what the Family can do. Now I’m ready to be one of them.

The boy and I climb up the mountain. I look over at him, walking next to me, and I realize that he’s not a boy anymore. Even if I still call him that. He’s grown taller than me and his shoulders stretch wide. The shadow of a beard darkens his cheeks and I shiver, thinking of the scratch of it against my skin. It’s one of those scarce, perfect days away from the rest of our Family. Just the two of us.

I hum and hold the boy’s hand, tight in mine. This makes us slower when we come to logs or rocks in the path. We have to work as a single, awkward creature, each of us with one free hand to steady ourselves as we climb over. But I won’t let go.

When we’re almost at the top, he gives me one of his rare grins. “Race you!”

And he breaks away, running up the path.

“Cheater!” I take off after him. Even though he has a lead . . . even though I fall and skin my knee, I still win. But just barely.

At the top of the mountain, we cling to each other, trying to breathe through our laughter. Collapsing near the immense, black boulder. Then it’s my turn to smile.

“Race you?” I say, putting my hand against the pockmarked boulder, speckled with rust. Inviting him into our own private game. Even though I’ve touched it a hundred times, the shock of its age stuns me. It’s so old. Older than The Circle. Older than humans. Older than this world.

Touching the iron rock, I see it falling through space. It shoots past planets and comets and suns, until it finally slams into Earth. In an instant I see mountains crumble. Great sheets of ice bully their way across the land. Seas rise and fall.

When my people found the boulder, it changed everything. They’d already had a connection with the world around them. They could read the first shifts of summer into fall or the signs that showed water was close by. And some could see more than others.

But with the metal stone, the strong seers became stronger. Through it they saw the orbits of the planets. Understood the pull of the moon against the ocean. Learned to track the cycles of days and years. And they grew to worship the perpetual ebb and flow they saw there and called it The Circle.

Then some of my people found they didn’t need the boulder. Even without the stone, some of us could look inside a person and see their secrets. Some of us could touch a drop of water and feel the cold grip of the ocean. Some of us were born listening to the stars.

We became the Family.

This rock came from the beginning of time, and my people used it to unlock the mysteries of the universe. But that was an old story. And I want a new one.

A restless energy jitters through my body as I think of what we could see through this stone. Not just what has happened. Or is happening. But all that is to come. The Family is capable of so many things. But the rules of The Circle hold us back. Make us turn away from our people.

“Race you?” I repeat my challenge to him, cringing at the eagerness that betrays how badly I want this.

His forehead creases. It’s not the first time we’ve had this conversation. “You know we can’t look into the future. It’s forbidden.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Why? Why is it forbidden? We hold so much power. But still, we’re shackled by the narrow ways of The Circle. What good is seeing the pattern beneath the universe if we can only use it to point the way? Why can’t we change it? Why can’t we look ahead and see what shape the future will take? Think about all the good we could do. Think about the tragedies we could prevent. Think about my parents!” I’m yelling now, and the wind rips the words out of my mouth, carrying them out across the water.

He puts his hand to my cheek, sharing my pain. He looks down at the beach glittering wet below us. Finally he nods. “You go first.”

And I do. I put both hands on the boulder, on the iron stone forged when time began, and make the tiniest push into the future. An ant zooms across the rock. It’s almost funny. Then the boy goes, pushing deeper. He watches the moss grow as the sun and moon chase each other through the sky. Then me. Frost shimmers on the boulder and ice rims the bay. Then him. Back and forth. Back and forth.

It’s a rush, seeing what no one else has ever seen. And we get caught up in the game. Pushing deeper through the years. Huge boats ride the waves. Strange people and creatures rush across the land. We shove forward in time. Testing our limits.

Then comes the vision. Black-slicked oceans. Rotting carcasses. The obliteration of everything.

I pull my hand away and grab the boy’s. I can’t describe it to him, but he sees the image burned into my mind. Looking out over the water, all I can see is destruction.

“I have to stop it.” And with those words, I become the Harbinger.