The Elders (16 page)

I feel worry coming
on. If an Elder were the Super Pusher, Alfred, with his interest in history, would be at the top of my list of suspects. I dismissed him thus far because he’s a bit too thin to have been my attacker, but what if he asked someone else to carry out his will? Could George be taking me to see that same attacker now?

“Is everything okay, Darren?” George looks genuinely concerned.

“Yes,” I lie. “I
was just, err, wondering why he didn’t mention it. I just saw him.”

George waves his hand. “He wouldn’t have bothered other Elders with this. Besides, I know he thinks I’d be the better person to introduce you to her, even if I disagree.”

At the mention of the female gender, my worry is lessened and my curiosity is piqued. “Who is it? And why are you questioning Alfred’s idea?”

“Let’s just
say it’s someone who might have a huge problem with the fact that you’re part Leacher. So if we’re to do this, perhaps don’t tell her?”

“I guess . . .” My worry returns; the Super Pusher would have the same problem.

“That also means not telling her who you are, as that would also tell her about your nature,” George says, clearly not noticing my discomfort.

“Fine, but can you explain whom we’re
meeting?” I’m not too eager to meet this Reader-phobic mystery girl.

“You’ll see,” he says, his tone mockingly conspiratorial. “Her room is near the entrance of the Castle.”

He walks toward the looming structure and I follow, albeit reluctantly. Besides this person being slightly suspicious, we’re returning to the very place where I was last attacked.

“George, this Teleportation thing you taught
me,” I say as we make a sharp right turn. “What Frederick did with it—”

“About that,” George says. “I would greatly appreciate it if you didn’t tell the Elders that I taught you how to Teleport.”

“Did you break the rules?” I ask, looking at him. “Kate saw you do it, and she didn’t object.”

“Kate knows to mind her own business. The Elders would only have a problem with it in your case. I think
they want to monopolize their secrets as leverage.”

“So you know what they want from me?” I ask.

“No.” He rubs the stubble on his chin. “I just know they want something from everybody, and I know what you wanted from this trip, so it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what leverage they’d use on you.”

“I’ll keep it between us then,” I say. “And I appreciate you teaching me, by the
way. The Elders should follow your example.”

He shrugs. “Like many people with too much power, they’ve lost their skill at diplomacy. I can’t afford to. Besides, to me, you’re family.”

“So can you also Teleport like they do?” I ask. “Like some kind of comic-book hero?”

“No,” George says, entering through the large Castle doors. “Nor would they teach you, unless you became one of them.”

“Oh
 . . .” My shoulders stoop a little. “That would’ve been cool.”

“It’s not like the comic books anyway,” George says, probably in an attempt to cheer me up. “It’s limited to the Mind Dimension, and even for the Elders, there are limits to how far they can Teleport.”

I sigh wistfully. “Still, I’d love to be able to do that.”

“You can at least master doing it when you first get pulled in,” George
says and stops in front of a large door. “We’re here,” he explains. “Let’s see if we’ll get lucky today.”

I wait, unsure what luck has to do with meeting this mysterious stranger.

The door opens a sliver, and smoke comes pouring out. Before I can think ‘fire,’ a raspy voice asks, “Who is it?”

“It’s George.”

The door opens all the way. Behind it stands the tiniest old lady. No, not old—ancient.
She’s holding a silver cigarette holder with a lit stogie in it, which explains the nauseating fumes.

“How are you, Mary? Do you recognize me?” George asks.

“Georgie,” she says, her voice quivering. “When I can’t recognize
you
, I will ask them to put me down like a dog.”

“Please don’t. I couldn’t bear that.”

“You have always been a sweet talker, like your uncle.” She exhales another cloud
of white smoke. “It’s wonderful of you to visit again. This must be what, your twentieth visit this year?”

George walks up to her, gives her a chaste kiss on the cheek, and says, “I’m so glad you’re lucid today.”

She looks me over with her rheumy, but intelligent eyes. “I am not so lucid as to recall who this young man is, even if he does look strangely familiar.”

She steps back into the room.

“The disease is not the reason you don’t know him. You haven’t met him before.” George gestures for me to follow him inside.

“Then why did you bring him?” she asks, shooting me a glance. “He looks too young to be a doctor.”

“His name is Darren, and he’s under evaluation to become a special Ambassador. Alfred thought it would be courteous for you to meet him.”

“Still such a polite lad, that
Alfred,” she says and takes a deep drag of her cigarette. “It’s nice to meet you, Darren.”

“Darren, I want you to meet Mary,” George says. “She’s my aunt, and Hillary’s grandmother.”

I look at the lady as though she might sprout an extra head—a fire-breathing head, given the current one’s propensity of exhaling smoke—and I finally understand.

George just introduced me to my great-grandmother.

Chapter 13

“H
old on a minute. You wouldn’t also happen to be the young man Frederick was just telling me about?” Mary sits down in a rocking chair that looks as old as she is. “The one they want to send on that folly of a quest to make peace with the damn Leachers?”

George raises an eyebrow at this, and I recall how he told me he didn’t know what the Elders want with me. I guess he does
now.

The place looks like a room from a ritzy nursing home, but with homier décor. I look around to find a place to sit. George notices and gestures toward the small bed next to the chair.

I sit down and George joins me.

In a moment of silence, I look over the old lady. Her eyes have a layer of cataracts, or something else that makes them seem glassy. Where George’s eyes look very old, hers
look like I’m staring into infinity. And at the same time, there’s confusion there, perhaps a sign of the Alzheimer’s disease George mentioned back in Florida.

“I didn’t agree to it,” I say, realizing that besides staring, I owe her an answer. “But given your tone, it sounds like you’re against it?”

Her face twists. “Of course I’m against it. Even if the Leachers hadn’t taken everything from
me, even if I supported the cowardly madness of trying to talk to them, it would all be for naught. Those people aren’t capable of not hating us. They are brutes, the lot of them.”

“All of them?” I ask cautiously. This whole exchange reminds me of my and Sara’s attempts to get Gamma and PopPop to be less judgmental of the welfare system. You need a level of finesse when you play devil’s advocate
in these situations.

“You clearly haven’t met one of those monsters,” she says, unfazed. “You talk with the innocence of one who’s been sheltered from them, like Frederick and the other kids. That must be why the others think you’d take on such a task. They want to use you so cruelly. Take my advice, my boy, and say no to that lunacy.”

“Oh, okay, thanks.” I look at George for support, but he
looks deadpan serious. I turn my attention back to her. “You’ve given me something to think about, that’s for sure.”

She gives me a smile. She has a dimple in one cheek, which gives her a strange, cherub-like appearance—an impression enhanced by her curly white hair and small stature.

She gives her chair a gentle rocking, then looks confused. “What was I talking about?”

“I said, ‘This is Hillary’s
grandmother, and this is Darren,’” George says.

“Oh, I remember the introductions, you sneaky trickster.” She cackles, peering at George. “I lost track of something else. But since you mentioned the wild child, tell me, how is she?”

I smile at the idea of Hillary as the ‘wild child.’ My great-grandmother narrows her eyes at me and looks as if she had an epiphany. “You’re sweet on her, aren’t
you?” she asks me. Before I can reply, she says, “I can’t tell you how glad that makes me. It’s about time that one settled down.”

“He is,” George says.

“I’m not,” I say simultaneously.

“You two need to get your stories straight.” Mary says, flicking her cigarette ash into an intricate ashtray—the only adornment on the end table next to her chair. The table is the one item in this room that
looks as if it was made in this century.

“Hillary is dating a friend of mine,” I say pointedly. I promised to keep my Reader nature hidden, but I did not agree to pretend to be dating my aunt in the process.

“Is your friend a Guide?” Mary asks worriedly. I think she’s picking up on George’s tension.

I ignore George’s glare. “No.”

“My, my.” She shakes her head. “I bet Ronnie boy will have a
fit about that.” She scrunches her face in displeasure when she says the name.

“Ronald doesn’t know about his daughter’s choice,” George says. “At least not yet.”

“Insufferable bore, that young man,” Mary says. “I warned Anne about marrying him, I did.”

I suppress a smile. Despite her dislike for Readers, Mary seems less close-minded than Hillary’s parents.

“I’m sure it’s a phase,” she says
after taking another drag from her cigarette. “I’m sure she’ll tire of her Unencumbered plaything sooner rather than later.”

And there goes that open-mindedness. I change the subject. “Why was Frederick talking about me?”

“He was just giving me an update,” she says, “since he was the one to pull me in today. Such nice young lads, those brothers, don’t you think, George? One of them would make
a much better mate for Hillary, since Darren here isn’t interested, and the two of you didn’t work out.”

I blink. Wait a second, if what she says is true—

“It wouldn’t be right for me to try to set up the twins with members of my family,” George says diplomatically. “But as a peer Elder, you could certainly—”

“That’s rich. Me, an Elder?” She chuckles. “You’re such a flatterer, just like my
dear Henry was.”

“I’m simply speaking the truth.” George’s face shows zero hesitation. “Once an Elder, always an Elder.”

“Not after your brain gives up on you.” Mary takes a deep puff of her cigarette and lets it out noisily. “After that, you’re nothing but a curiosity around here.”

I’m barely listening to George and Mary. Instead, a little proverbial lightbulb is slowly gathering electricity
above my head. Crossing my fingers and hoping I’m right, I ask as casually as possible, “How does it work, Mary, this current lucidity of yours?”

“I thought Georgie would have explained it to you.” She puts out what’s left of her cigarette. “When they start a Session, they start with me, you see.”

My heart rate picks up. “What do you mean, they start with you?”

“I mean, whoever’s Session it
is, they try to pull me in a few times until they catch me during a functional moment. It seems to help me keep my wits better while in the Mind Dimension. Still, even with this trick, sometimes things get fuzzy. And on some days, the Session starter gives up after a dozen attempts. I fear it will only get worse with time.”

Jackpot. My first and only success as a detective.

Before I get a chance
to ruminate on my epiphany, George says, “At least you get to enjoy a century this time around. That’s more experiences than an Unencumbered has in a lifetime.”

Mary nods. “You’re right to criticize me for the ungrateful wretch that I am. Now, let’s get back to more important things. Darren, tell me what else my granddaughter has been up to.”

She resumes smoking, and I proceed to tell her as
much as I can about Hillary without elaborating on her role in my recent adventures. I also try not to talk too much about Bert. The story comes out very vegan-agenda oriented.

“Such a shame,” Mary says, putting out her third cigarette. “This is all rebellion, I tell you. Ronnie’s family were meat farmers—”

“She’s doing what she thinks is right,” I say, feeling the need to defend my aunt. “I
don’t think she gives a rat’s ass about her father’s family business.”

She sighs. “If it weren’t for Ronald’s heavy-handed approach with my granddaughters, I would have gotten a chance to see them from time to time. As is, the younger one is following in the footsteps of the older—”

“Why don’t we let Darren go, Mary?” George suggests. “It’s his first time on the Island, after all.”

“Why do
you call me that?” Mary asks, pursing her lips almost petulantly. “Mary this, Mary that?”

“I’m sorry,
Mom
,” George says. “I didn’t want to confuse our young friend here.”

“What’s there to be confused about?” She digs through her pockets and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “When my mind was my own, I looked after George,” she explains to me.

“It was more than that,” George says. “You know that.”

“I had no choice, you see.” She looks at me while putting another cigarette into the holder. Taking out a pack of matches, she says, “His parents were killed, just like my dear—”

“If Darren wanted a history lesson, he’d hang out with Alfred,” George says. “Also,
Mom,
should you really be smoking so much?”

“It’s the Mind Dimension, silly.” She gives him that dimpled smile. “I can stand on my
head here as far as my poor health is concerned.”

“But smoking like this will condition you to want to smoke in the real world. And when the Alzheimer’s hits, you won’t be able to stop yourself.”

She snorts. “If I lose my mind, having a smoke will be the least of my worries.”

Despite saying that, she doesn’t light up and returns the matches to her pocket. Then she turns her gaze to me. “Darren,
Georgie is right. Since it’s your first time on the Island, you should go off and play some more. If you don’t mind, I’ll keep Georgie here a bit longer.”

Do I look like a five-year-old to these people? It sure seems so with all these dismissals, not to mention the ‘go and play’ comment.