Essentially Human (17 page)

Hermione reached over and slid the glass from his limp hands. “Eat, no more booze until we’ve eaten.” She waved a waiter over and ordered for both of them, while he stared at the table. The lines on his forehead ran a crooked path between his eyes. The long hair took some getting used to, but it was a good disguise. She’d barely recognized the man struggling out of that muck.  “You’ve been on alert for months because she is volatile and prone to walk into trouble, Sam. Perhaps they did tell her and she forgot. Or they knew she couldn’t handle it, so kept it from her. Or…who knows? They are aliens!”

He snorted, as if appreciating her humor. She hoped so. He glanced up through the hair strands, pulled free from the ponytail, and his blue eyes sharpened. “You’re on the run. Jermaine is with you…fill me in.”

That was more like it. As she explained her fall from grace, and why Drum’s son was with her, the food arrived. Sam ate and listened, asking questions about her resources and the allies they might still have at the capitol.

“Something is going on with Hammer. The underground hub I’ve been working at is finding it increasingly easy to infiltrate and mess with his systems. I suspect the Aleena are breaking through and opening windows, doors…hell, I think they are going to tear the roof off.”

He wiped up the remaining bit of gravy from the plate before taking the last piece of meat off the fork. Eyes narrowed, he studied her. After a moment, he nodded. “I’m not terribly surprised. The word
adapt
should feature their species as an example. I’m no mathematician, but at the speed they were learning, they probably have the entire internet downloaded and analyzed at this point. I just hope they consider the chaos they might unleash…”

She held up her hand and he paused. “Sam, the underground is massive. I don’t know how they did it, but they won’t let the country collapse. I was on the edge and still saw an organization that puts what we’ve been working with to shame.”

A crooked smile and lifted eyebrow signaled his skepticism, but he shrugged. “After what I saw on the Aleena ship, I shouldn’t doubt anything. I hope you’re right, H.” He drew a deep breath before continuing. “I need to get back to Washington.”

“You sure that is safe? Hammer has lost some ground, but I’m not sure any of us are safe there. The security is the best there…is…” She watched him snicker and had to agree, he had a point.

“No, you’re right.” Sam sobered. “But actually, I’m thinking more about Virginia initially. First, I need to see Ria settled somewhere safe. Let’s find an internet café. You once told me Jarveski is settled in Boston. If he is still practicing, it might be the best place to leave her.”

Hermione watched him fiddle with the plate before the waitress took it away. He had more to say.

“H. I crossed the line with her.”

Well, Sam Montgomery was human. Even if the woman he slept with wasn’t. No, she shouldn’t make assumptions.

“I don’t imagine crisscrossing New England for months, with her needing to be in constant sight, would make it easy to keep your hands off.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t. But that wasn’t the line I crossed. She trusted me and I let her down. Big time.”

“I doubt that. Appearances to the contrary, you don’t let people down. But you are human and we aren’t sure she is.”

“You saw her. She flinches away from me and isn’t talking again. I have to figure out how to make it up to her. But…” He pushed away from the table. “Let’s find out if Jarveski will help until we finish with Hammer.”

That sounded like an excellent idea. From what she saw before her, Sam could use the opportunity to connect to his past. As her parents used to say, remember your roots when you feel the ground shifting beneath you.

The room spun slightly when Sam stood and he had to admit, he’d overdone it with the whisky. The food should help him recover, and fresh air. They walked back to the hotel, after a quick stop at a nearby internet café. Jarveski was listed as taking the occasional client. He sent an e-mail saying they’d be stopping by and the man immediately replied. The professor looked forward to a visit from his old student. It raised Sam’s hope of some guidance and they returned to the hotel rooms with his spirits raised. He tapped lightly on the door, hoping Ria had fallen asleep.

“Jermaine?”

No one answered. He doubted Drum’s son would take a nap, but it was possible he had headphones on. He glanced at Hermione, keycard in hand. She entered the second room and a moment later, the door he stood in front of opened. Good thing they’d kept the connecting door unlocked.

“They’re gone.”

“What the fuck?” He stormed across the plush carpet and looked around. Her large pack was still on the chair. H. studied the monitor while he searched to see what was missing. The mini bag with her forged ID and credit chip. “Maybe they went to eat?”

“No, I doubt it.” She gestured at the advertisement flashing on the big wall mounted screen. “They looked at a route to this club.”

He read the featured musical groups and snarled. “Damn it.” He clenched a fist. “That group provokes an extreme reaction in her. We need to get there.”

“I’ll call Jermaine.”

“I doubt he’ll hear the phone.”

“Then I’ll text.” She tapped at the phone while Sam memorized the directions. “Let’s go.” He wanted to be angry at Jermaine, but the boy couldn’t know and no doubt Ria left him little recourse but to accompany her.

Hermione glanced at her phone a block away. “He says she’s dancing but he doesn’t like the attention she’s generating. But he can’t pull her off the floor.”

“Tell him we’re coming. And he needs to keep an eye on her.”

A murmured
no shit
came from his former second-in-command. The dark streets were empty but as they neared the club he could tell it was a popular one. People lingered outside and the pounding of a deep bass pulse bled from the doorway.

His Aleena ear filters automatically adjusted to the volume inside, but H took the foam plugs and popped them in. She led the way to a table up a few steps, along the wall, where Jermaine stood, staring out to the mass of dancers at the center of the club. The huge room embraced shadows, in contrast to the extreme industrial design. Well placed lights danced off of steel inspired woven beams, soaring to a high ceiling, ringed with equipment and catwalks. The same lights cast a deep darkness across the dance floor in some arcane pattern, no doubt meaning something to those in the know.

A hush descended as the last song played out and the bare piano chords of the next began to sound. The dancers moved away and a choreographed group took over.

Where was Ria?

“There!” Jermaine pointed and he spied her, at the center of the dancers. She swayed with the music and they fit their planned routine around her. The evocative lyrics built and he climbed to a chair, the better to see Ria.

Her back bowed, she knelt. Her face rose and he couldn’t see her expression, as the dancers wove an intricate pattern, blocking his view. The music sped up and the lights began to flash. He jumped from the chair and pushed through the crowd, watching, swaying, some singing along. None of them could understand what those words communicated to Ria.

“…I think I was human…”

Shit. Where was she?

*****

Ria’s mind lost itself in the haunting voice of the woman vocalist. The dancers gliding around her weren’t real, just a figment of her broken soul. As the second verse began, she stood. Emptiness filled her heart, as if that were possible. The longing swelled inside, pressing against her heart. With no safe haven to flee to, and expectations for relief, she gave up.

How to not feel this anymore? Her eyes lit on the crisscrossing ladder of steel rods, leading to the darkness above her.  She ducked beneath the dancers interlocked arms, heading for the platforms securing the sound system, balanced in the rafters. Tears ran down her face as she climbed. A strange exhilaration swelled the further she rose. The music roared inside her, words bouncing back and forth, echoing her sorrow.

A quick flash of awareness flew through her as she stood on the catwalk. She’d been trying to die for so long. One step and maybe this time it would take.

*****

He stood in the center of the dancers, searching. She’d been here! He tried to reach one of the performers, but they adroitly dodged away.  Hermione had gone one way, Jermaine another. The music slowed, a beat of near silence as the lone piano returned and a forlorn lyric soared “…paradise…”

“Ria!” he shouted.

“Monty! Above you!” Hermione called out.

Sam spun, looking above him and saw her falling toward him just as the next line bounced from speaker to speaker “…alone in paradise…”

He dove, arms outstretched and called in every karmic debt owed to him as she dropped. Her weight drove him to the floor, but he caught her. The room erupted into applause, no doubt thinking it all part of the act. The dancers milled about uncertain, but unwilling to give up the acclaim. Two of them dropped to his side and assisted him to stand, Ria limp in his arms. They led him away and into a back room, where Hermione and Jermaine followed.

“Ria, Ria!” Pushing the hair from her face, he looked down into her face, losing hope. Deep brown eyes, wide and staring, didn’t register his presence.

A hand touched his back and Hermione’s matter-of-fact voice echoed his sentiments. “We’re going to Boston. Tonight.”

“Uncle Monty, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Jermaine actually looked pale in the light of the bare light bulbs.

“You didn’t know, Jer. She’s been trying to kill herself for decades. Will you go get the car? H, check us out.”

“Done and done,” she replied. “Wait outside the club, take about thirty minutes. Come on, Jermaine.”

Sam stayed, bent over Ria, hearing the last words from that cursed song weaving in and out of his mind. It told her story, but not all of it. Her chest rose and fell, no hint of the despair that drove her again and again toward death. She resembled nothing more than a bird, broken after diving into a window.

I can’t help her, he admitted. Maybe Jarveski can.

*****

Hermione took the rear seat so that Sam was forced to let go of Ria. She held out her arms and helped arrange the unconscious woman in the seat, buckling her in. He didn’t object, climbing into the front, letting Jermaine remain at the wheel.

“If her bag is in reach, you can pull out a scarf to cover her eyes, H. I can’t get them to close.”

She twisted and managed to find the softer length of fabric. As she wrapped it around the woman’s head, she swore the filaments Sam had described to her in the restaurant caressed her fingers for a moment. With willpower, she didn’t flinch, only tucking the ends of the scarf to one side.

“I swear, her hair is longer than it was at the hotel.” Jermaine still sounded a bit shaken up.

“It probably is. I think it grows to accommodate the…” Sam stopped. “…it grows under stress. Something the Aleena must have inadvertently triggered when they saved her life.”

“I’ve heard of hair turning white when you get the shit scared out of you…but just growing?”

“They didn’t really know what they were doing, Jer.”

“What about your hair?”

“Something in their water or food. It was this long when I got off their ship.” Sam’s voice must have communicated his exhaustion, since Drum’s son gave upon the questions.

It neared 3am when they pulled into the driveway of a large colonial style home on the outskirts of Boston. When Hermione undid the belt buckle, Ria’s head rose.

“Ria?” The head fell back at Sam’s voice. He bent to lift her from the seat and she didn’t move. At the front door, Hermione pushed the blindfold up and saw the staring brown eyes again showing no awareness.

“I think once you put her down you should back away and not touch her again, Sam. You might be triggering her continued state of…of whatever you’d call this.”

“Removal.” Jermaine spoke at her side. “She’s stepping out, removing herself.”

“Well put.” Sam swallowed as the door opened and a small man with a fringe of white hair surrounding a bald cap gazed at him a moment, then smiled.

“Come in, Samwise. Show me what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

The broken chuckle that brought to her boss all but broke Hermione’s heart. Steeling herself not to show her anger, she followed him into the snug home. Warm with wood and battered throw rugs, the house even smelled of comfort. The scent of apples and cinnamon, natural, not a blend of chemical compounds, brought back memories of her childhood.

Sam stepped into a den where a fire merrily crackled and set Ria down gingerly, then covered her bare legs with a knit afghan from a basket near the coffee table. “Watch her, please.” She nodded, but her gaze followed Sam, taking short steps as he left the room with Professor Jarveski. He hadn’t bothered to introduce her or Jermaine, who had sprawled in a large chair and a half near the fire.

“Think we gonna be here long enough for a nap?”

“I don’t know, Jer. But I’d take advantage of it. I’ll drive when we move on. I think we’re heading back toward home from here.”

“Long as it’s safe for Dad.”

Hermione walked to the fire and held out her hands. A real wood burning fire, neat and compact. A noise drew her attention as the professor entered with a plate and a teapot. “His manners are atrocious. I’m Sigurd Jarveski and I’ve brought you some fresh apple scones and tea. Samwise is downloading a list of music for me to examine. My home is your home.”

She held out her hand, “I’m Hermione Bales and this is Jermaine Drummond…who appears to be very hungry.”

Jermaine looked sheepish as he chewed the half of scone he’d popped into his mouth, nodding and wiping his hand before holding it out to be taken. Jarveski grinned and held it a moment, then took Hermione’s. “There are more in the kitchen, at the back of the house. Please, feel free to indulge yourself. I fear I’ll be enclosed with my old student for some hours.” He moved forward and perched at the edge of the coffee table, studying Ria. “We’ll figure it out, Ms. Aster. You and I, while they go about their business.”

Ria didn’t register his words, just looked beyond him at something none of them could see.

He patted her knee, then stood. “His sisters death was a great blow. Regardless of the reason, I am glad to see him emotionally engaged with the world again.”

The statement surprised her. Reaching for a cup of the tea Jermaine had poured, she cleared her throat. “I wasn’t aware you were keeping such tabs on him. He certainly never gave that impression.”

“I saw him at the memorial service and began a correspondence with Dr. Drummond. I know Samwise wouldn’t welcome my meddling, but what’s done is done. And perhaps it will be for the best.” He made a small bow toward her. “Now, I will return to my protégé.”

Another word that shocked her. She lifted the tea to her lips and took a sip, barely registering what she tasted until the magnificence of the honey and ginger struck her soul. She took a seat and reached for a scone. The man knew how to satisfy the heart.

*****

Far below the surface of her skin, Ria floated. Voices bounced off her awareness and drifted away. They’d arrived at some destination, the sensation of the moving car had gone. The knowledge of failing again left her so very tired. Time passed but meant nothing. It grew quiet again save for a faint crackle that made her think of campfires and s’mores.

I’m really bad at suicide
, she thought at one point.
Maybe I should give it up.

The hysterical laughter this provoked brought her back to herself. She howled at a rough-hewn wooden ceiling, gulping air between bawling out laughter. Until it wasn’t funny anymore. Bending at the waist she hugged her tummy, throat raw.

“Have some tea.”

That calm voice startled her and she jerked upright to stare at the stranger in the chair by the fire. He didn’t move, as if he knew one move and she’d run. Where to, she had no idea, but somewhere.

She glanced at a teapot, covered by an old fashioned cozy, and a platter of triangle pastry she thought might be…turnovers?

“It’s a morning blend of honey and cinnamon. And those are made from apples my sister sends me from Washington state.”

Her belly grumbled. But she didn’t move.

He calmly continued, “I’m Professor Jarveski. Sigurd Jarveski. I once had the honor of mentoring Samwise Montgomery. I know a fair amount about you. Who you were, at least. I’m uncertain who you are now.”

Blinking, she turned her head slightly, searching for Sam, or Hermione, or Drum’s son.

“They had to continue their quest, but deemed you too fragile for the journey.”

His language nearly made her smile. Sam was on a quest? Then the situation dawned on her. He’d left her. Her gaze shifted to the fire and she inhaled deeply.