Of Delicate Pieces (22 page)

“But you’re happy now? Why?”

“I’m doing something real. And the last place I expected it to take me was right here, but Alex … ” He raked his fingers through his hair which was longer and lighter than usual. “You have no idea how much you’re tied into this world. Sit down. This is going to take a while.”

***

Chase and Gabe sat on top of a maze of walls in the basement of the Mansion of Morgues. Dust, whispers, and screaming filled the death-black room, and even though Chase helped build the maze this year, it scared him. Duvall taught them about the chemicals used in the house, and his job was to perch over the guests who walked below in the maze and sprinkle chemicals down to amplify their fright. He knew his fears were a reaction to the fumes, but when he breathed them in, his hands shook, and his chest tightened. He didn’t like losing control of himself.

“Gabe?” Chase whispered.

“I’m here.”

“Do you feel something funny?”

“This whole place makes me feel things I’m not supposed to.”

Chase waved his hand in front of his face. Despite his enhanced sight, he could barely see it. The only plus to this job was that it gave his mind a break from seeing so many colorful emotions. “That’s not what I mean. Like in your head.”

“You mean, do I think Jonas is close?”

Yes. That’s exactly what Chase meant. He didn’t experience such a pull with either of his remaining brothers. Gabe had a theory for this; Gabe had a theory for everything, which was annoying sometimes, but in this case Chase welcomed it. He thought they could feel a pull to Jonas because they were trying to find him—they weren’t trying to find each other. Chase knew where to find Gabe and Kaleb, and he didn’t worry about them much anyway because they could take care of themselves. He searched for Jonas, though, whether he wanted to or not, just to know if he was okay. Sometimes, Chase saw things he shouldn’t see. Trees. Faces. He thought it might be Alex’s mind until he began seeing the specks of green ambition and greed. And he knew he was in Jonas’s head. What a frightening place to be.

Chase wished he could see Gabe more clearly. “Do you feel him, too?”

“Yeah. He’s not far.”

“You think he’s checking on us?” As angry as Chase felt, a part of him wanted to believe that Jonas cared about his brothers, that what he did last year was unintentional.

The floors creaked above them. Even during the day, the Mansion of Morgues was open for guests. It was a new development this year because of the high demand. This place was still terrifying, even when the sun was out.

“It doesn’t matter, Chase. You need to stop letting it in. When all this began, the seeing things that you think he’s seeing, I looked into it. It can happen with spirits who have similarly programmed minds, like siblings. There’s a reason it’s discouraged though.”

The door opened and a new group of guests prepared to enter. Chase grasped his pouches of chemicals and prepared to release them, deciding this time to hold his breath since he didn’t need to breathe anyway.

“Of all the different workshops and all the different theories, opinions, and teachings, one thing is always the same. Something as complex and personal as the mind isn’t meant to be shared.”

Chase took one last gulp of air because it was habit. Good thing because he felt the urge to spill his secrets. If Gabe only knew how many people were inside of Chase’s mind.

***

Alex tried to ignore the nosy tulips that leaned in closer and closer while Jonas told his story. “You’re telling me that my distant relative created a town aboveground for the gifted?”

She latched onto the silver lining. She might be a Havilah, but the gifted didn’t need to hate her if she’d been a part of Astor.

Jonas flicked a flower bud. “What better place to imprison spirits? Even if they somehow escaped, the town acts as a natural guard of gifted minds.”

Alex’s mind flashed to Yazzie dressed as a constellation. “Yes, I heard this story during the festival. Broderick and Brigitta Cinatri wanted their sister to live there. What made the town come above ground?”

Jonas slid a bit further down the bench so he could face her. “That’s really why I’m here. These spirits I’m working for—don’t give me that look—if you knew who it was, you wouldn’t question it.”

“Then tell me who it is. I can keep a secret.”

“That’s a load of crap.”

Alex kicked a rock. “You can’t tell me. I’m truly shocked. They sent you into a gifted territory? That was really nice of them.” She snorted. “Sounds like they care about your wellbeing. How did you get out?”

He scratched his head. “I didn’t know it was illegal. The only reason I’m not under the ground right now is because I said I’d relay a message to you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, there’s more to your story than you thought.”

“I already know I’m a Havilah. I saw the family tree a few weeks ago.”

Jonas raised his brows. “Oh yeah? They finally let you see that? Good.” He shook his head at Alex’s triumphant expression. “They still aren’t telling you everything.”

His words injected her with indignation, and it spread throughout her being and filled her useless veins with something that made her itch. She ran her hand over the tattoo of blue veins on her chest. “What do you care?”

“Honestly, Alex, I didn’t. Until I found out that this was my mission. They want me to do this, so I’m doing it. Shut up and let me talk.”

God forbid he do something admirable, something noble. Jack wasn’t the only friend she’d misread last year. She might be the world’s worst judge of character.

“The first thing I wondered is why these spirits sent me, but I was young enough that I didn’t realize the danger of waltzing into a gifted territory. They knew I’d recognize the town.”

“Who are
they
?”

“Stop asking.”

“Why would you recognize some dumb town in Oregon?”

“You’ll love this. It’s a duplicate of Parrish. Right down to the light posts in the town square. Astor, Oregon.”

Astor. The familiarity of the word caused her mind to shuffle until she held the image of Maori’s shop of junk. The coral shield from the Witch Wars.

“This Astor Havilah guy, his daughter was gifted. His family—
your
family—took her away, so he didn’t want to live in Parrish anymore. Can you blame him? According to Ms. Portiere, my new best friend, Astor wanted to make amends. He also didn’t want his family to be cursed anymore. And he needed a big town with money.”

“Why?”

“To buy back his daughter.”

Alex took off her hat and fixed her hair that was suddenly very messy. She lived in Parrish her whole life believing the woods were forbidden because of the Jester, when really it was her own family she should have feared. The song about the Havilahs wriggled into her mind.

“How come this isn’t common knowledge? Why have I never heard of Astor?”

“I doubt the afterworld knows much about it. They aren’t allowed into gifted towns. If they enter, they’re imprisoned.”

“No one ever mentioned it to me. It makes absolutely no sense to keep me in the dark about everything.”

“I thought so, too, at first. But when I was leaving, something about the welcome sign caught my attention. Astor, Oregon. It didn’t say founded by Astor Havilah.”

“He changed his name?”

Jonas nodded. “Astor, Oregon. Founded in 1842.” He glanced around them to see if anyone was around. “By Astor
Raive
.”

She didn’t move.

“Do you understand?”

She didn’t want to. She felt the urge to plug her ears.

Jonas lowered his voice. “Syrus Raive was his son. Syrus Raive was a Havilah, too.”

And a murderer. The name was a verbal punch to the gut. She leaped to her feet. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she couldn’t be there anymore. She didn’t want to be
her
anymore.

She started running through rows of yellow carnations and continued on through anemones swaying in an invisible wind. Jonas cut in front of her.

“I’m sorry, Alex. You don’t deserve all this.”

“Every time!” she screamed. “Every time I find out something new, I hate myself even more!”

She felt water streaming down her cheeks. How? How in the world could she possibly produce tears? Nothing about this place made sense.

“That could be why they don’t want you to know. This would be a lot for anyone.”

“Someone wants me to know! You said that’s why they sent you here. You won’t even tell me
who
wants me to know this!” Alex fell to the ground and hugged her knees to her chest.

“You aren’t related to Sephi Anovark.”

Then how on earth would she look identical to her? “You didn’t tell them that, did you?”

“No, I didn’t tell them.”

Of course not. They probably wouldn’t have been so nice to him for knowing her. She bent and scooped up a handful of dirt and threw it at the pretty flowers mocking her. “Why do these people you’re with want me to know this? To torture me?”

“They want you to know the truth. And the gifted want you to know the truth. But the gifted, they allowed me to leave freely for another reason.”

“Oh, God, Jonas. I can’t take much more.”

He held up his hands. “This isn’t anything about you. This is about the Truce March.”

She covered her face with her hands. “What about it?”

“You can’t go.”

“Why do they care? Isn’t it supposed to be about love and harmony?”

“That would sound stupid even if it was true. The gifted would have imprisoned me for crossing territory lines. That doesn’t sound peaceful to me.”

“What do I do?”

“If it was me, I’d do nothing.”

“What?”

“Stop searching. Do nothing. Don’t support the Truce March. Don’t oppose it. Do absolutely nothing.” He sighed. “Let the world sort itself out.”

Alex didn’t breathe a word of Jonas’s visit to anyone. All Soul’s Day approached, and even the most prominent of spirits either worked to finish the final touches in Eidolon or helped in Moribund. Alex hadn’t spent the entire month slaving away at the Mansion of Morgues, so the party felt like less of a celebration and more of a reminder that time here aged quickly like dusk.

The longer she was dead, the more fulfilled she felt by information (as long as it had nothing to do with her past). She was an open, empty book, and the more lines she was able to fill, the stronger she felt, so she was relieved when sessions resumed in November and she could have a structured schedule again. And, more than anything, she had Chase back again.

She missed the hum of his presence next to her class. She missed the notes he’d write on his paper, saying hello or telling her what he was thinking about, even though he could slip into her mind and whisper it to her. There was something childishly fun about looking next to her and seeing him turn his paper toward her to ask if she remembered the time they snuck out at midnight one summer to play pirates on a boat in the Parrish marina. She used a bubble wand as a sword but dropped it in the water, and without thinking, Chase dove in to retrieve it. When he explained his wet, seaweed-stained clothes to his mother in the morning, she hired a locksmith to work magic on his window. Danya never realized that her sons learned to pick locks when they were still in diapers.

Alex grinned reading the story now in Chase’s handwriting.

What made you think of that?
she wrote on her paper.

Your hair was in one of those braids over your shoulder that night. Like it is now. Well, a little messier.

His brothers used to joke that Alex went around sticking her fingers in electrical sockets. Danya used to buy so many products to try to tame Alex’s curly hair. Nothing worked.

She notated Dr. Massin’s objectives:
Continue to discuss basic causes for hatred.

Dr. Massin straightened her cropped blazer and patted the French twist in her hair. “We are an overly intelligent civilization to say the least, but that isn’t always in our favor. Our living brains were hardwired a certain way, and it amplifies when the mind is given freedom in the afterworld. We have a basic need to survive, and our survival instincts teach us self-protective actions. Outsiders are threats. That is our natural way of thinking. We aren’t comfortable with differences because we don’t like uncertainty. We fear it.”

Alex followed Dr. Massin’s gaze to Pax, who sat straight-backed in the front row, watching their professor through her thick glasses while her pen moved in frenzy.
For what
, Alex thought,
could she possibly use glasses in the afterlife?
Little slouched next to Pax and twirled the pink streak in her brown hair.

“All of that is amplified for us. Do we need to deal with it? Yes.” She directed a smile at Jack, Carr, and Reuben.

“The spirited must learn to live together.” A light zapped above Dr. Massin’s head. “We share the earth with the bodied. A dispute has been going on for centuries, and the outcome is always the same. For our safety and theirs, it’s best to keep our worlds separated. They wouldn’t understand it. The gifted are hybrids, bodied and spirited, and it’s dangerous to allow them to choose which rules to obey. Lost Ones don’t follow our society laws. The mentally broken, or banshees, can’t understand those laws. That is why we live to exist with the spirited, and the spirited only.”

Above her head, one of the objectives highlighted yellow.
Society’s system for dealing with deviation and disobedience.

“Your law training was cut short by extenuating circumstances, so your class of newburies has a limited range of understanding when it comes to our system of justice.”

There was a moment of awkward silence for the missing Professor Van Hanlin.

“It’s much easier than the system in place for the bodied. We break a law, and you face several Revealers at different times. Revealers are a foolproof jury; they can tell if a spirit is lying or not. The method is not always consistent, but in various ways, they can see, hear, or feel lies. Some minds analyze tone, some assess body language and impulses or brain waves, and some see effects of truth or fabrication.”