Harbinger (The Bleeding Worlds) (13 page)

“Hello Fuyuko.” His tone sounded stilted, formal. “How are your studies going?”

“I’m on the secure line dad.”

In her mind, she saw him shift. Initially, he would’ve been reclining in a chair, or reclining against the wall. The mention of “secure line” would have him hunched over the phone, forming a defensive shield with his body. His tone became low, conspiratorial.

“Good. How is your mission proceeding?”

“I’d be able to tell you if I had any idea what my mission is.”

“Is it a matter of not knowing or that you’ve failed to put in the proper amount of research?”

Her father had a talent of using words like swords—each one sharpened and stabbed at the right place to inflict the most damage.

“They dropped me off at this house, told me to go to school, and keep my eye out for some kid who goes there. How am I supposed to prepare for a mission like this? No technical data, no specifics on the desired outcome. They didn’t even give me a map of the city or a floor plan of the school.”

“These sound more like complaints of one who fears work. Or perhaps you have doubts in Suture?”

“I have never once turned away from difficulty.”
Breathe. Breathe and don’t give into him.
Fuyuko told herself
.
“I am just saying that this is unlike any mission I’ve ever been sent on.”

“Is that why you called to speak with a senior member in the field?”

It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

“You know about that?”

“You must understand my position within Suture by now, Fuyuko. There isn’t much that happens that I don’t know about.”

She clenched her fists and gave a silent curse. Her father held an important position with Suture. If pressed on it, she had to admit she didn’t even know what he did. But he always knew. If she failed a training exercise, or been less than stellar in the field, she could never hide it from him.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Did he provide you with enough assistance?”

Had he? Fuyuko almost laughed. He’d done nothing but add to the questions she had. Having mulled her meeting over in her mind as she walked home, she’d come to the painful conclusion that Justinian had told her in a polite way to shut up and wait for further instructions.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Then I suggest you spend some time contemplating what he said. In the meantime, your mother is eager to speak with you.”

If she had been so eager to speak with me, why couldn’t she have answered instead of you?
Fuyuko tried to calm the raging of her heart. She had no desire to take it out on her mom.

“Hello sweetheart.”

“Hi mom.”

“I understand from your father that you’ve been having some difficulty with this mission?”

“Is that what he said? Difficulty? This isn’t difficult mom; it’s not even a mission. Dad would’ve never allowed Katsuro to be stuck in something like this.”

Bringing up his name struck her with regret. Silence dragged on for a minute on the other end of the phone.

“Ah, I see. Well, you know what I used to do as a girl when I needed to figure things out?” Her mother continued past the mention of Katsuro, but the sound of hurt clung to her words. “Go for a ride on a swing.”

“You know I’m seventeen, right mom?”

“You are never too old to ride a swing, dear. Besides, it’s quite cool, I would think you’d enjoy the chilled air.”

“Maybe.” Fuyuko grumbled.

“Never mind your father’s harsh tone, Fuyuko. He loves you and is very proud of you. It’s just hard for him to say.”

No, it isn’t. He just has no desire to.
“I know mom. Good night.”

§

Gwynn’s body shook.
It had nothing to do with the cold.

“You’re telling me you can’t see it?”

Pridament hung his head. “No. Like I said, I’ve only been told about it.”

“It looks like a twister is about to rip the town apart! How the hell can you not see it?”

“Because I’m not a Script.”

Pridament’s weak smile infuriated Gwynn.

“You get that I have no idea what that means, right?” Gwynn’s fingers ached from balling into tight fists. “For god’s sake, just tell me what is going on.”

Pridament moved beside Gwynn. “You need to understand that not all Anunnakis are created equal. You remember how I said my glyphs were incomplete?”

Had he said that? Maybe. In the coffee shop. That seemed so far away.

Gwynn just nodded.

“Because of that, I can’t see the vortex in the sky. I can’t see, or close, a tear in the Veil unless
I
made it. It takes six Fragments to seal a natural tear in the Veil. Someone like you, a Script, you can do all those things alone. The symbols on our arms are like a story. When you have the complete story, you can see all the aspects and themes of it. You can understand its rules and characters. You can’t do that when you only have a fragment of it. You just can’t see the complete picture.”

“So what are you saying?” Gwynn inspected his right arm and the symbols that extended to his fingers. “I’m some sort of freak. Some super god?”

Pridament’s eyes softened. “No, no, not a freak at all. Just, rarer, than the average. At best estimates, about ten percent of Anunnakis are Scripts. If anything, I’m the freak. Fragments are broken, unable to use the full extent of our powers unless as a group. There’s some who think we’re less pure, less worthy of the title of Anunnakis.”

Too much. They were both freaks, just one bigger than the other. Gwynn gripped his hair and sunk to his knees.

“So what is that thing? Why is it here?”

Pridament continued to stand, searching the skies, seeming to try to do what he had just said was impossible.

“When tears in the veil occur in close proximity, they can weaken the boundary between two worlds. Think of it this way, you have to glasses filled with water, and they sit open end to open end. A piece of plastic is placed between them so the water doesn’t flow from one into the other.”

“I’m following.”

“So what happens when the plastic is removed?” Pridament asked. His eyes darkened, and appeared even scared.

“The water from one glass goes into the other. Probably spills all over the place.” Then it dawned on Gwynn. “Holy shit. You’re saying the veil is the plastic?”

Pridament gave a slow and sorrowful nod.

“That woman, the one who attacked me, is she doing this?”

“I believe so.” Pridament said. “Her name is Elaios. She belongs to a terrorist group called The Fallen. They believe that they must destroy the various versions of Earth throughout the multiverse.”

“Why?”

Pridament sighed and sat down next to Gwynn on the floor.

“The Norse saw the universe as a giant tree, Yggdrasil. The Fallen think that the trunk of Yggdrasil represents the true universe. From that, the branches that continue to multiply are the various universes that splinter off. Just like you prune a tree to keep it healthy, they believe that to save the world, they must eliminate the dead weight.”

“By destroying entire worlds?”

Pridament shook his head. “By destroying entire universes. They commit murder in the billions, but they justify it by the belief that all those lives continue in a truer, purer, universe. Some are religious fanatics. They believe when they return to the trunk, they’ll find the roots, and there they’ll find God. I think others just do it because it makes them feel powerful.”

“Doesn’t anyone try to stop them?”

“There is a group…” Pridament trailed off. His jaw clenched and his eyes were angry.

Gwynn remembered the word. Elaios had said it as she beat him. “Suture.”

Pridament couldn’t contain his surprise. “How do you know that?”

“Elaios. She called me a ‘Suture Brat.’ It didn’t make any sense to me at the time. So what is Suture exactly?”

“About fifty years ago, someone revealed the existence of Anunnakis to world governments.” A tremor of anger went through Pridament’s voice as he said, “To this day, I’m still not certain of that person’s identity.” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “In any case, the government became aware of the threat of tears in the Veil and that Anunnakis could combat them. A number of years of power struggle ensued. Some governments wanted military applications. Others thought the Anunnakis should guard against invasions from other worlds. Eventually, the threat from outside our world, or a veil collapse, persuaded the world governments to create the entity known as Suture. With the decision made, the varying factions of Anunnakis made a pact. They divided the world into sectors and took ownership of protecting their assigned area.”

“So who’s supposed to be protecting us?” Through gritted teeth, Gwynn added “And where the hell are they now?”

Pridament got to his feet and dusted himself off.

“That’s the question, isn’t it? If this is Suture’s job, where are they now?”

“You don’t seem like a fan.”

“It’s good in theory, I suppose.” Pridament shook his head. “But how long can you tie egos that large together without a power struggle? These men and women have known the adoration and worship of being gods. They won’t take orders forever.” He turned his head toward the skies over the city again. His voice softened, maybe doubtful. “We might have to do this ourselves.”

“Say that to me again?” Gwynn’s voice shook.

“You’re a Script. You could stop it.”

Gwynn put up his hands and backed away. “Whoa. I’m not sure if you were keeping score, but I got my ass handed to me. How am I supposed to stop something like that?”

“If you look at the vortex, you should see tendrils extending down to the ground. Those are coming from the open tears. This place held one, but you’ve already closed it. With a bit of training, I’m sure you could close the rest.”

“Do you have time to train me?”

“Hopefully.”

Gwynn shook his head. “No. I’m not buying that. I think you need to get on your phone and start getting the professionals in here.”

“You can do it, Gwynn. You’re a Script. A little training on how to use your abilities to fight and you’ll be set. Besides, I’d be there to back you up.”

“You mean like you were while Elaios used me for a punching bag?” Gwynn’s fists clenched. His body seemed healed, but the sting of Elaios’ fire clung to his memory.

“You know I was fighting the Curse.”

“Sure, and what will keep you busy the next time?“

“There won’t be a next time. I didn’t know Gwynn. I thought the Curse was here because of the tear you had left open. I wouldn’t let you go alone again.”

Pridament tried to be kind with his tone, but Gwynn couldn’t care. If Suture existed, this was their mess to handle. He just wanted his life back.

“Just forget it, okay? Are we done here? Did I close the tear I made?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think I’d like to go home.”

The two descended through the house in silence. It had returned to the decrepit derelict Gwynn remembered from Halloween. They walked out the front door and got in the car. As Pridament pulled out, a pale girl in a black dress waved to Gwynn from the window. She mouthed some words and Gwynn knew what they were, as sure as if she had whispered in his ear. “Be seeing you soon.”

Jaimie
paced in the kitchen. The last dying rays of sun were retreating beyond the horizon. What had her visitor’s words meant? Should she allow Gwynn some more space? Like hell. When the boy got home, he would go to his room and only leave it for food and school. In another few months, he would go to college. When that happened, she would give him space. While he lived under her roof no damn way would he use a school suspension for hanging out.

She never gave herself a chance to ask who he would be hanging out with. In all the years they had lived together, he had never brought home a friend. No, if
that man
told her to let Gwynn do as he pleased, then it was not a good thing.

Her feet and back were protesting. Too much stress, too much time moving back and forth on hard floors without a rest. She embraced the discomfort and used it as further fuel for her anger. Nine years of perfect, predictable behavior. Now this. Suspension. Disappearance. Some rational part of her mind said she should be worried, not angry. Some part of her understood she felt more frustration and anger toward herself than Gwynn, but those parts were waging a losing battle.

Lights cut across the ceiling in the hall. A car had pulled into the drive.

Jaimie sprinted down the hall and threw the door open. The car lights, still on, blinded her. The whir of an engine fan kicked on as the car idled. A few moments later, a rattling noise accompanied the engine shutting off, and the lights died, leaving her blinking away spots.

Two figures approached from the car. The first one she focused on turned out to be Gwynn. The boy’s clothes were in tatters.

The second figure stood taller, a man. He appeared in his mid forties. Tall, brown hair, nothing outstanding. His eyes though, they were dark and grim. His discomfort of being here wafted off him like stink.

Jaimie allowed them inside the house and shut the door before she started to yell.

“Where the hell have you been? What happened to you?”

Gwynn looked back at the man and then hung his head.

“Well, I’m waiting for some sort of explanation.” Jaimie wheeled on the stranger. “And who are you?”

The man cleared his throat. “My name is Pridament. I met your nephew at the hospital.”

“What happened to you?” Jaimie asked, turning her attention back to Gwynn.

Again, he seemed to search for guidance from the man who called himself Pridament. “I’m going to go get some different clothes on.”

“Excuse me?” She didn’t like this. First, the hated man shows up, now Gwynn looked to some stranger to explain his actions. She wouldn’t lose him. “I think you’re going to stay here and explain to me why you look like you were in a bar fight and are being driven home by a virtual stranger.”

“I don’t want to intrude, but perhaps if the boy were more comfortable he might tell you what’s happening.” Pridament said.