Fungus of the Heart (5 page)

He barks a no.

“Then I’m represented by the spider?”

No.

“Again, I’m grateful that you care about me, but I don’t have time to decipher your doubts and fears about my future.”

Billy protests.

And I’m about to start walking again when the monkey reaches out to me with a tiny hand.

Of course, I know I shouldn’t save her. I shouldn’t upset the natural balance.

But right now, I don’t care.

Sometimes I need to do the wrong thing and be the hero.

*

The fiery flowers dominating the meadow remind me of the robe you wore during my training lessons. And Milena’s dwelling, a bulge in center of the clearing, brings to mind our unborn child.

I try not to think about his fate, but of course, the resistance only intensifies my focus on the tragedy.

They took him from you right after he was born. Perhaps before. And if he’s still alive, I’m sure he’s one of them by now.

A soldier who would sacrifice his life to annihilate people like us.

The door opens and a woman approaches me, and I’m thankful for the distraction from my thoughts.

After a few moments, I’m sure she’s Milena. She’s not wearing the traditional garb of a Protector, but she walks like one. Swift, calm. Confident in her ability to survive.

She stops about five paces from me. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Nightingale,” I say.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Who sent you?”

“No one. I’m here to offer you my services as a Sentinel.”

She swats at the idea with her hand. “I don’t need any help.”

“Of course you don’t. But this isn’t about need, Milena. This is about what you deserve. When was the last time you had a good day’s sleep?”

She shrugs. “That’s not important.”

“You only think that way because you’ve been taught to sacrifice yourself for your village.”

“No. It doesn’t count as sacrifice if your beneficiaries repay you for your good deeds.”

“But they don’t pay you nearly enough. I’ve worked for enough Protectors to know that.”

Milena sighs. “Debate me all you want. I’m not about to put up some outsider just so he can play sandman for me.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you remembered what it’s like to experience deep slumber. But I’d bet my soulstone the last time you slept like a baby was as a baby. So why not give me a chance first, then make your decision as to the value of my assistance. I was trained in the defensive arts by Cailin Airfist, and I promise you, I can keep you safe.”

She stares at me, and bites her fingernail. “I can’t take your word for that. I’ll need references.”

“Of course.”

“Let’s go inside.”

And Milena’s underground cottage shocks my senses.

Vivid colors, bizarre forms, complex smells.

At first, I can’t perceive beyond the entirety of the space.

Then my eyes dart about, out of control, and I see an armless goddess with golden lips, luminescent snake bones dangling from the ceiling, cerulean candles shaped like vulvas, a collection of twig dolls with hornet nest heads.

“Are these all protective charms?” I say.

“Yes.” Milena sets her scrying bucket on a low table.

“There has to be at least a hundred types of fetishes in here. But most villages only produce five, ten varieties.”

“True.”

Despite my curiosity, I drop the subject. I can tell she’s not prepared to give me any substantial information about her life. Not yet.

She hands me a needle.

And I prick my finger, bleed into the bucket.

Wait.

Obviously, this cluttered cottage bears no resemblance to our simple hut, but I can’t help thinking of home anyway. I can almost see you kneeling on the floor, eyes closed, lips trembling. Sometimes I only pretended to meditate with you, and I watched you instead.

My memories scatter as the water in the bucket rises.

And Milena asks my past employers the usual questions, triggering the usual answers.

Eventually, she finishes with the last Protector, and stares at me. “You have no recent references. Why?”

“I haven’t worked for a while,” I say.

“Why would I hire you if no one else will? Maybe you’ve lost your touch.”

“The only reason no one hired me is because I spent the last year alone in a cave. Grieving. The Army captured Cailin, took her to the Fortress. She and I are bound by the heart.”

“I see. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re sure you’re ready to start working again?”

“Yes. Cailin wouldn’t want me to hide from my life forever. She spent years imbuing me with her skills and knowledge, and I don’t intend to waste that gift.”

Milena laughs. “Why you Sentinels train so hard just so you can help us Protectors sleep, I’ll never understand.”

“I can help you understand, if you let me.”

She rubs her forehead. “Fine.”

“First of all, learning the defensive arts isn’t merely a means of obtaining a place in the worlds. That’s only a physical manifestation of our spiritual metamorphosis. But there’s so much more to our art than what can be seen. So much more than I could ever explain with words or thoughts.”

“Alright. But why use your skills to protect Protectors? Why don’t you become Protectors yourselves?”

“Simple. Unlike your people, my people can be conquered. Yes, we’re strong in spirit and body, but your power will always surpass ours and anyone else’s in the corporeal realm. As a Protector, you prevent most conflict by your mere presence. But if Sentinels attempted to infiltrate your niche, we’d only end up instigating more violence. Therefore, we accept our place as servants and guardians to the guardians.”

“I guess that makes sense. Still, seems like a waste of potential to me. But who am I to talk?”

“You’re a Protector.”

She shrugs, picks a piece of lint off her plain grey tunic. Stands. “I need to start breakfast. Or dinner, in your case.”

I stand too, smiling. “Why don’t you let me cook for us? In my home village, I’m actually quite renowned for my abilities as a chef.”

“No.”

“All my past employers were happy with my cooking. I can resummon them if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you. But it’s not about talent. I just…like my food my way.”

“OK.”

“You can put your things in the storage room. Feel free to pile up all my junk in the corners.”

“Thank you.” I smile.

She doesn’t.

Once she’s inside the kitchen, I take a deep breath.

Then I enter my new room, and curl up on the floor, waiting for the phantoms to return.

*

Two weeks in, Protectors usually start to trust me while they sleep. But Milena still springs to vigilance every time I test her with a cough or a sneeze. And while I’m confident her desire for security will eventually spark a bond between us, so far we only seem to be moving further and further apart. In fact, at this point, she barely speaks a word to me during those few hours when we’re both awake at the same time.

This morning, she says, “There’s a seraphic boar making a fuss outside. He’s no angel of mine, but he wouldn’t give me a moment’s peace. Is he yours?”

My heart assaults my chest. “What did he say?”

“I don’t know. I don’t speak warthog.”

“Would you mind if I borrowed one of your sacred blades?”

She shakes her head, and carries her basket of herbs into the kitchen.

Outside, Billy drops a slimy stone at my feet.

But I ignore the message. “Were you trying to tell Milena the truth about me?”

His eyes expose a struggle in his mind. Maybe he’s trying to lie to me, but he can’t. Not in his current form. So he grunts an affirmative.

“Do you realize what would happen if she discovered the truth? If she didn’t kill me, she’d at least toss me out, and I’d have to start Phase Six over again. Is this really what you want? You’d rather I die or fail than do what must be done?”

Yes.

I sigh. “I love you, Billy, and I don’t want to see you go. But I can’t let anyone jeopardize my mission. I hope you understand.”

Another yes.

And with the sacred blade, I cut the thread between his heart and mine. Of course, when dealing with angels, any symbolic act results in physical consequences.

So the connection anchoring Billy to the physical realm severs. And he screams, spiraling out of control into the Heavens.

“Goodbye.”

I’m ashamed to admit this, but I’m not only relieved to see him go. I’m happy.

In life, Billy was an ideal companion. No matter what I did or didn’t do, he never looked down on me. Never judged me. But his death changed the nature of our relationship.

I’m better off without him.

I know I should ignore Billy’s final message, but my curiosity triumphs over reason in a matter of moments. So I kneel and examine the object at my feet.

And in the stone, I see a dragon, ready to strike.

I don’t need to ask any questions to understand the warning. If I succeed in my mission, I’ll become a monster.

But, of course, I knew this long ago. The creature I’m destined to become haunts my nightmares, and he’s much more of a monster than any dragon.

Stronger. Bigger. More grotesque.

As I rub the dragon with my thumb, the residue of Billy’s compassion and loyalty warms my soul. I know he only wants what’s best for me.

However, my life isn’t about me anymore.

My life is, and always will be, yours.

*

At first, my sleepy eyes widen with the fear of phantoms. But no, these voices refrain from clawing at my eardrums.

So I follow the sound to the living room, and stare through the crack in Milena’s door.

She’s sitting on the rug, biting her fingernails, across from a man in a black cape.

“We tried rationing the food evenly,” the man says, his voice shaking. “But that yielded only widespread malnutrition, illness, death. So we started a lottery system to decide who lives and who dies. I’m one of the lucky ones, but my son…he doesn’t have much time left. I try to give him food, but he won’t accept.” He wipes his snot and tears with his sleeve. “He’s planning a raid on your village. He’s already recruited about thirty doomed members from my band.”

“Don’t worry,” Milena says. “I’ll send them running back home before any blood can be spilled.”

The man shakes his head. “I’m afraid they won’t give up so easily. They’re planning on blinding themselves before the battle, so as not to be intimidated by you.”

Milena sighs. “Sight or no, there’s no ignoring my power. They’ll still feel me in their bones. Tell them that.”

“They’re beyond desperate, Milena, and there’s no stopping them. Not without bloodshed. But if you give us more food, maybe you can prevent the massacre.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve got nothing to spare.”

He gestures at the bags behind her. “What about those?”

“I have four more bands to feed.”

“Please, Milena. I’ll do anything. My people will do anything.”

“I know. I wish I could do more for you, but I can’t.”

He stabs the air, pointing his finger at the bags again. “Of course you can!”

“Do you want me to create my own lottery system? I could choose one band to feed, at random, and give the others nothing. Are you prepared to lose my patronage completely for a chance to gain more?”

The man rubs his beard for a while, then shakes his head.

“I’m sorry about your son, Arthur,” Milena says. “I’ll do everything I can to repel him without force.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Arthur says. “He’ll soon be dead anyway.”

“Maybe not. Maybe he’ll find a way.”

“You’re a fool.” And with that, Arthur sets a twig doll by her knee, and walks out of the room, cradling his bag of food like a newborn child.

After the front door slams, Milena cries. So soft, I can barely hear her.

This is my chance.

So I enter the room, without permission, and wrap my arm around her.

“What are you doing?” Milena says.

“My job,” I say.

“Your job is to help me sleep.”

“And that’s exactly what I’m doing. If I don’t comfort you, your spirit will keep crying out for support. And that’s not exactly the ideal condition for a sound slumber.”

“My spirit isn’t crying out for anything.”

“Of course she is. Your sorrow manifests as tears so that others can perceive your feelings and react accordingly. Now stop arguing, and let me do my job.”

And for a few minutes, Milena allows me to hold her.

Then she walks into the living room, places the twig doll with the others. Sits.

I join her at the table. “You’re the first Protector I’ve known who gives food to raiders.”

“Calling them raiders dehumanizes them,” Milena says. “They’re just people. Unlucky people.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

She sips her cold tea. “I lied to Arthur. I told him there was nothing more I could do for him. But I could coerce more food from my villagers. Terrorize them into submission.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because I’m selfish and pathetic and I want my villagers to like me.”

“You want a home. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Of course there is. My desire for belonging kills people.”

“You’re not responsible for everyone around you, Milena.”

“Then why do I have so much power?”

“Because you were born that way.”

She takes another drink. “You’re making excuses for my behavior because you want me to feel better. You don’t really believe what you’re saying.”

“Actually, I do. In this life, sometimes you have to choose your own wellbeing over someone else’s. Because if you surrender too much of yourself, you’ll lose your altruistic spirit altogether, and then you won’t be of any use to anyone.”

“I don’t believe any of that.”

“You don’t want to believe it, but you know I’m right.”

“Please stop trying to defend me, Nightingale.”

“Someone has to. As it is, you’re on a path of self-destruction. And if you don’t free yourself from your guilt soon, you’ll be eaten alive from the inside.”

“Maybe that’s what I deserve.”

“What you deserve is happiness and health. You deserve a good day’s sleep. A hearty meal. Let me cook for you.”