Wander Dust (21 page)

Terease’s footsteps, still slow, are zeroing in on me. Closer—and closer. Finally, I hear her pivot. The dirt beneath her boot pulverizes into the cracks of the floor.

The closest light pops, raining orange sparks over me, and she walks down my aisle.

::28::
Selfish

The anticipation of Terease finding me sends waves of nausea through my stomach. She stands right below. So close, I hear her breathing.

Trembling, I tighten my fingers around the tiny box, holding the unknown CeCe relic. Every muscle in my body tenses, rigid.

Her leather suit squeaks as she bends down. She slides the archive box out from its resting spot and flips off the top. It flies across the aisle, slamming onto the floor.

“Blast it all!” she snarls, enraged. I hear her kick the empty box across the room. It crashes into the opposing shelf.

I jolt and grind my teeth together. I need to try harder to control my reactions.

“Argus! Ar—gus!” she yells over and over in spastic bursts. She throws a fit below me. Her arms flail everywhere. She growls, continuing her rant. Another relic flies off the shelves. It smashes into a million shards that spill across the floor like raining glass.

Out of nowhere, a blaring noise screeches above me. I jump again. It’s impossible not to, the sound is deafening. But the sound doesn’t have anything to do with Terease. It’s the fire alarm. She screams one last time before ferociously stomping through the glass, crushing it further, and storms off.
She slams the entrance door shut, no doubt on her way to investigate the fire alarm. I let my muscles relax into mush then lift my face from the dust to take a clean breath of air. I sneeze—three times. I would’ve been dead meat if I had done that any sooner.

Sprawled across the dusty shelf top for several moments, I listen to the repetitious noise of the alarm. I need time to recuperate from stress, to think, to sleep. More importantly, I need help—from a Seer.

•

When I land in Mona’s living room, my body is completely drained and exhausted. I’m starting to feel like a ping pong ball, ricocheting through time. Trudging into her kitchen, I can barely pick up my feet. Mona stands at the sink, washing dishes.

“Hey,” I mumble.

Mona spins, her eyes bulge in shock. “Oh! You scared me!” She holds one hand over her heart and clenches the kitchen counter top with the other. “I thought you were in the shower!” She gives me the once over with her eyes. “You look like hell!”

“Future me,” I say in explanation. I wave my hand in a small, unenthusiastic arch. I don’t have the stamina for anything more sociable.

“What’s going on?” She dries her hands on a dish towel then flings it on the counter. Reaching forward, she grabs my forehead like I’m running a temperature. It’s a gesture Ray would never make, partly because he’s a germaphobe and partly because it never would’ve occurred to him. That’s why I know I’ve come to the right place—some place safe, hidden in time.

“I need a place to hide.” Cringing, I wish I had considered my words more carefully. Unsure how she will react, my lips roll in onto themselves, and I look up at her, waiting for her response.

“Aht!” She holds up her hands, palms out toward me. “Don’t even tell me! I don’t want to know. Not even an inkling!”

“I can’t stay?” Crushed, my eyes fall to the floor.

“No, that’s not what I said.”

The shower water turns off upstairs. Both our gazes shoot upward, to the ceiling. My
old self
is upstairs, preparing to move to the Academy today.

“I need sleep,” I mumble.

“I see that.” She rolls her eyes with annoyance. “Now I’m just going to worry about what you’ll be up to in the future!” Mona chides, pulling me toward the stairs. She turns back, holding one finger over her lips, asking for my silence. That won’t be a problem. I barely have enough energy to drag my feet up each step, let alone open my mouth.

Mona steers me to the door at the end of the hall on the second floor. She quickly throws me inside when the old me exits the bath above, on the third floor, and walks across the creaking floor.

Mona shuts the door behind us and leans me against the wall. My body wobbles, shutting down. She pulls down the bed covers and fluffs the pillows then guides me to the bed, where I proceed to collapse. The bed is so soft, so welcoming, even in the uncomfortable position that I’m in, I could sleep.

With great difficulty, Mona rolls me over, straightens my body, pulls off my coat, and then my shoes. She tosses them all onto a chair next to the bed. “You know the old you is upstairs—right?” Her eyebrows raise.

“Yeah, getting ready to move to school,” I whisper.

“Exactly, so don’t leave this room!”

“No. Problem,” the words crawl out.

She pulls dust bunnies from my hair and looks at them in disgust. “You’re absolutely filthy!”

She tugs the covers up over my body, placing my arms on top. My hand clenches the tiny box from the archives, its contents still unknown, but Mona doesn’t notice. Or, at least, she doesn’t say anything.

“How many times have you wandered in the last day?”

“Lots,” I grumble.

“You’re running?”

“You said you didn’t want to know.”

“Well, first off, you can’t go wandering all over the place. All those time changes in one day will suck the energy right out of you.” Her hand whips through the air. “It’s called
shlag
. It’s like exaggerated jet lag.”

“Hmph.” I figured that much out, the hard way.

“Secondly,” she admonishes, “whatever trouble you’re in, you should be dealing with it with your team. You know, Max and Sam?” Her brows furrow. “They’re there for a reason, Seraphina.”

I use all my energy to roll over and look away. I don’t want a lecture. Not now.

“Wait,” she considers, grabbing my shoulder, “did something happen to Max or Sam?” Her voice trails with distress.

“No.”

“All right, okay—good.” She composes herself.

“I need your help,” I say, unsure of what her answer will be.

“If you need me as a Seer, I told you, I’m unable to see a relic’s life path the way I used to. As young as she is, Sam would see much further back.”

I sigh out loud, resisting the urge to shut my eyes. They’re itchy and watery. The only relief is allowing them to sink shut.

“But, if you need me as an aunt, I’ll be here for you.” She rubs my shoulder. “Really, if I could help you with a relic, I would. I promise.”

“Tell me why,” I say.

“I just
did
. I can barely see across the bedroom, let alone back in time for more than a few hours—
days
if I’m lucky,” she huffs.

“That’s not what I meant,” I roll back over to meet her gaze. “I mean,
why
can’t you?” My lack of energy makes me petulant.

“Well,” she pauses, looking at the ceiling and back to me. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you in the beginning. I mean, I wasn’t going to discuss it.” Her hands collapse, rolling around in her lap as she contemplates. She seems nervous. “But, perhaps the story will help you make the right decision.” She smiles, but sadly.

“Well, let’s see, where to start.” She smooths down the covers next to me. “Our team started out at the Academy. My teammates were Joseph, my Protector; and Ann, my Wanderer. I was nervous in the beginning. Just being thrown into a situation with two people you don’t know—well, it has its challenges.”

I sniff. Boy, she has no idea.

“Well, we weren’t just roommates. We hung out, twenty-four-seven like some kind of adolescent, mutant family.”

I laugh a little. The words ‘mutant family’ coming out of Mona’s mouth just seems—well—weird.

“It’s like you need each other in an unexplained way, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that you get along. Like siblings, we had our fair share of arguments. Still, we needed each other just like a family.”

“Anyway, we spent two and half years at the Academy, and then we attended wandering university together. We experienced so many exciting trips together, learning about history in a way that any Normal would absolutely drool over. Some Normals get lucky enough to backpack through Europe in college; we backpacked history.” She pauses, seeming to reminisce.

“So, what’s the problem?” Fading quickly, I push for a more decisive answer.

“Not too long after college, Ann kinda went AWOL. She just up and left, completely disregarding her Oaths to the Society of Wanderers and her teammates. It more or less rendered Joseph and myself useless. I guess we could have tried to find another member, but it’s not easy to find the perfect person, a replacement for a sister. It all has to click into place, like fate—destiny—whatever you want to call it. There’s no place for broken teams to go mingle and find a new mate.” She laughs sadly at the thought. “All groups form in their teen years, and they usually stick together for the rest of their lives.”

“You could have done your own thing, meditating on relics. That’s something—right?” I ask as my voice slurs.

“I did in the beginning. I was so furious with Ann; I couldn’t let her destroy everything I’d worked for. Seeing had become my life. But then I wondered, what was the point? I wasn’t just a Seer. I was also a guide. And I had no one to guide. I found my life empty without a team. With my skills fading, my reason for being special disappeared.” She pauses. Mona’s heartbroken voice trails off. She trembles when she speaks again. “Eventually,” I think she pauses to wipe a tear away, “
thankfully
—I found new things. I have my books. I have my art. I still work for the Society of Wanderers, but now I travel like a Normal. It makes me happy.”

I’m sorry for Mona, and I dislike Ann for abandoning her. My eyes are locked shut. They may have been closed for a while now, but Mona kept talking, knowing I would comprehend. I’ve been responding to her in my sleep.

Mona creeps out of my room, shutting the door behind her. When she stops to talk to the old me in the hallway, I understand why she seemed so awkward.
I
was hiding behind the mysterious door.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Mona says outside my door.

“I’m ready to go, whenever you are.” I hear my old self say. Hearing your own voice played back always sounds weird. It never sounds quite as good as you hope. Having two points of view for the same moment in time feels like an out of body experience. It’s as though I’ve been given a second set of eyes to perceive life.

Their footsteps disappear down the stairs, and I drift further, lost in the unconscious world.

My dreams aren’t my own during Night Classes. We listen to the recordings on the contrapulator even on the weekends. So, it’s no surprise when my repressed dreams pound, full force, like an out of control steam engine.

Dense fog churns around me, uncontrolled at first. Slowly, perfect little beacons of lights filter through. Stars. Their light burns off the clouds, revealing a clear, midnight blue sky.

I flex my toes. Sand sifts between them. The texture sooths me. The cool air, with a hint of mint, chills me with goose bumps. I run my hand up my arm to rub them away.
I’m back in the desert.

My free hand unexpectedly brushes someone. Though I don’t immediately see the person standing next to me, I know it’s Bishop. He moves closer. The air warms around me, embracing me. I want to reach out and entwine my fingers into his, but I refrain. He’s not mine.

When I look up at him, his jewel, green eyes seem concerned. He starts to open his mouth to say something, but someone else speaks first.

“Where have you been?” the uptight, childlike voice asks. I turn to answer Sam, who stands four feet in front of me with her arms crossed.

“I’ve been searching for my mom,” I say apologetically, thinking they will find the thought idiotic.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Bishop asks in a consoling voice.

“We would have understood,” Sam adds, and then she releases her irritated stance.

“You can trust us.” Bishop puts his hand on my shoulder.

“You can,” Sam adds. She grabs my hand and pulls me forward into the night.

We walk together for some time through sand, wheat fields, and plush grass. It’s as though we’re on a journey, although I’m not sure to where. “Are we going some place?” I ask.

“Yes—there.” Sam’s freckled finger points farther ahead. When I see it, I’m confused. On a long stretch of land, sit a million stars, mirroring the sky. The lights twinkle, enticing me. My mind seems to be playing tricks on me because the stars sit close enough to touch. They’re just sitting there on the ground.

Mystified, I run toward them, leaving Sam and Bishop behind. My feet sink and slide into the sand, making my running labored.

When I reach them, I bend down. My knees dent the soft earth. I reach out to touch the nearest star. When my fingertips brush its warmth, the star moves and lifts off the ground, levitating in front of me. It pulsates like a heartbeat. It’s alive.

“Come look!” I yell back to them, but I hear nothing. I stand up and turn to see their faces. I want to share the moment.

They’re walking toward me. I smile. When I gauge their expressions, they aren’t happy. My head cocks. As I focus, their facial features ripple. The movement is almost unnoticeable at first, but as they move closer, their skin oscillates like an earthquake. I can’t hide my horror. They appear to be changing, morphing into something else.

Repelled by the grotesque scene, I squint my eyes. Cupping my hands over my mouth, I let out a silent scream. Every part of their bodies mutates into a scrambled mess.

I don’t run. I just stand, shocked and terrified.

They become less difficult to look at as the transformation decelerates. Now, the two people standing in front of me are not Sam and Bishop.