Harbinger (The Bleeding Worlds) (14 page)

“You shouldn’t intrude and I don’t give a damn about him being more comfortable. This is my house and I want an explanation.”

Gwynn had been almost up the stairs, but now he stormed back down. “
Your
house? What happened to us being in this life together? What happened to us being all the family we had so we had to stick together?”

“Exactly. So don’t you think if you’ve gotten involved in something you should tell me?”

Gwynn shook. “What? Do you think I’m involved in drugs or something? Would you like to come upstairs with me and search my room?”

“That sounds like a challenge.” She prepared to storm up to his room and tear it to shreds.

Pridament held up his hands. “Whoa there. This is getting out of hand. Maybe both of you should calm down and take a breather.”

“Maybe you should get the hell out of my house.” Jaimie bellowed.

Gwynn turned a shade of red that approached purple. “I see what this is all about. Nine years I’ve been the quiet mouse. I never raised my voice. I never questioned instructions. Now, suddenly life is happening to me and you can’t handle it.”

“That’s not it at all.”

“Yes, it is. Jesus, I didn’t even ask for this. Do you think I want to be some freak? Do you think I need this shit on my shoulders?”

Gwynn shoved by Jaimie and threw open the door. On his way out the door, he grabbed a ratty, too short, jacket. Why had she even kept that coat?

“Gwynn…”

“Let him go Jaimes.” Pridament touched her gently on her shoulder. Even though rage blinded her, she couldn’t ignore the feelings ignited in her hearing that name. Her eyes burned as unbidden tears surged forward.

“What did you call me?” She turned to him.

Pridament’s eyes were gentle, understanding, familiar. “You’ve done an amazing job with him Jaimie. Give him some time to cool down. He’s had a lot dumped on him.”

Jaimie’s voice came dry and cracked. “Who are you?”

“You won’t like the answer.”

“Please. I’m sick of all the riddles and games.” Pleading filled her voice. She hated it. She didn’t know this man, and she hated being weak in front of him. Still, the name. Only one person had ever called her that. “I need to know.”

“All right.” He said. But it seemed the last thing he wanted. “This might be…unsettling.

The air seemed dryer. Jaimie’s hair tingled, as though she had brushed against a drape and picked up a charge. Pridament’s face started to shift. His nose reforming, the position of his eyes shifting. Each movement brought the face toward something she recognized. When she had no doubt what final form the man’s face would take, Jaimie fainted.

§

Fuyuko still had
doubts about the swings.

Mom was right about one thing; the cold night air is comforting.

She had learned over the years that her mother held a certain amount of wisdom. Doubts or not, if her mom said to ride a swing, then she would ride a swing. A simple search on Google Earth had provided her with the location of a nearby park.

It always looks so easy on the map,
she thought, correcting another wrong turn. It did seem easier in the two dimensional space of a monitor. Things got increasingly difficult the more dimensions you added. She laughed. It sounded like a lesson at Suture.

This night provided lots to be thankful for. The moon shone a bright three–quarters in a sky clear and full of stars, and the clean, crisp air tickled her lungs. To top off the perfection of it all, the boots she wore were so comfortable. Every mission before had required combat boots. She reveled in the luxury in having well made, civilian, footwear.

At the end of the street, a walkway led to green space. Fuyuko picked up her pace, sensing her destination within reach. Despite her misgivings, her body tingled with excitement at reaching the park.

Fuyuko stopped at the end of the walkway and let her eyes adjust. Just a hundred feet from the light of the residential street, the park seemed covered in a shroud that blocked out the artificial light. Thanking the moon for its brightness, she followed the paved walkway, moving through the parkland’s series of slopes and valleys. She heard the grinding of cold metal before the playground came into view. Odd, someone else wanted to ride swings late on a cold November night?

She came around a small hill and the playground came into full view. A large climbing structure with three slides of differing height and shape dominated the space. Another structure for climbing shaped like a dome stood to her left. To the right, the swings, where a lone figure kicked his feet toward the sky.

It’s like he’s trying to escape the pull of gravity.

Fuyuko inspected the boy on the swings. “Ho–lee shit.” She muttered. Fate always proved to be a strange and crafty bitch. “Gwynn?” She called.

He turned his head to inspect her. He stopped kicking himself higher and let gravity reclaim him. Fuyuko moved closer.

“Why is it whenever I’m having a rough time, I run into you?” He asked.

“Lucky?” Inside she cringed. She had little experience in banter between virtual strangers. Most of the people in her life had been there since childhood.

He laughed. “Maybe.”

Fuyuko motioned toward an unoccupied swing next to Gwynn. “Is it okay if I have a seat?”

“Go ahead.”

Her stomach fluttered. Something about the boy undermined her confidence.
A reminder that this mission is stupid?
Why the hell am I even here?

“So what are you doing here?” She asked him.

“This is my thinking spot.”

“Really?”

He looked away from her toward the sky. “When I’m swinging, it just feels like I’m leaving the world behind.”

When Gwynn’s eyes turned back to her, he wore a weak smile. What had Justinian said about Gwynn? ‘He looked like a killer.’ Fuyuko didn’t see that at all. No, just a lonely boy, with life experiences too old for his maturity to handle. She pitied him. She sympathized.

“So what brings you to the swings?” He asked.

Fuyuko laughed. “Just trying to figure some things out. My mom said I should try it. Apparently it always worked for her.”

“So I’m not the only one who does his thinking on swings? Good to know.”

He kicked himself higher into the air, focusing his attention on the sky and moon above.

Fuyuko shrugged and walked back a few steps. She then lifted her feet from the ground and started pulling herself up to the sky. Back and forth, kick up, kick back, a physical rhythm. The wind wrapped around her and whistled in her ears. As she went higher, the moon seemed just that bit closer. She would then fall back and the world would rush into view. Rocketing forward, the world disappeared again, replaced with the starlit sky. Motion became everything, the sensation of flight and falling mingled into a sense of freedom. How could anyone think when all these sensations begged to be lost in? Why did this feel so new? She had been a child. Hadn’t she been on swings before? Probably. But she’d forgotten those days and replaced them with holes in the world filled with monsters. A simple thing, riding a swing, and yet the joy it brought her seemed beyond reason. Her companion remained speechless. The sound of metal creaking under cold and weight their sole soundtrack. The two of them seemed to swing in tandem, the sound of the metal a two–part melody soaring and dipping with the movements of their two bodies.

Fuyuko had no idea how much time had passed. It surprised her to find she didn’t care.

“So have you figured it out yet?” Gwynn asked.

His words shattered the minimalist symphony. It took Fuyuko a moment to try to process what he had even asked her. She laughed, embarrassed because she’d stopped worrying for a moment.

“No. I’ve just been enjoying swinging.”

“Like I said, the world just goes away.”

“How about you?” She asked. “Have you figured out whatever brought you here?”

He sighed—a weary, heavy sound. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever sort it out.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Silence.
Guess not
.

“It’s just that,” the suddenness of his speaking startled Fuyuko, “have you ever thought your life felt solid? I mean, you knew what would happen every morning, you knew where life was heading, you could count on things.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way.” Her life could never be that way. She felt faint tingles of jealousy toward him.

“You’re lucky. Because when you do feel that way, that’s when everything falls apart. I’m just pissed. I should’ve known better.”

“I think that’s just the way life is.”

“It’s bullshit.”

Fuyuko stopped herself from arguing any further. How could she hope to make him understand? When you became an active member of Suture, you didn’t know where you would sleep, wake up, or whether you’d survive. Chaos wasn’t something you understood, you called it family.

Without warning, Gwynn launched from his swing. He stood statue still, craning his head forward. He turned back to Fuyuko.

“Did you hear something?”

She hadn’t, but he looked alarmed.

Fuyuko landed two feet behind Gwynn. She stepped to his side. “What did you hear?”

He shushed her. Her ears detected nothing but the dying movements of the swings behind her.

Each passing moment clicked in her like the movement of a clock hand. As time and silence continued, her confidence in Gwynn diminished. Justinian had seen a killer? No, nothing but a lost little boy, who was increasingly getting on her nerves. She readied to snap. Then the sounds of panting and pawing at the ground on the other side of the hill reached her.

It could be anything
, she told herself. But increasing knots in her stomach said differently. Not a tear, but something that reeked of its energy.

“Oh God, no” Gwynn said.

Fuyuko followed his gaze to the top of the hill. Hungry eyes and sharp teeth met her eyes.

Having
company on the swings seemed wrong. His spot to escape and think seemed too private a thing to share. Especially with the day’s events crushing down on him.

After his parents had died, he and his aunt had moved to this town to start over. She’d found a new job and a house big enough for them each to have space. It had taken two weeks after they moved for Gwynn to venture out. Finding this park had been a small blessing. Almost ten years had passed, and the swings were still the first place he fled when things became overwhelming. He’d always been alone before, finding solace in the dark where no one saw your tears. Then
she
had arrived.

Besides the day he lost his parents, this day ranked as the worst. And here she was, just like she kept showing up yesterday.

Who are you?
He wondered.
I’ve run into you so often. Can it be more than a coincidence?

The rhythm of her swing matched his. Two objects, often out of sync, aligning for just a moment. Despite his questions and doubts, having her here made it seem, what, safer? Or maybe his experience with Sophia had left him feeling so alone, he needed someone else to speak with.

A stab of guilt. Sophia. She’d told him to stop the world from bleeding—to heal its wound. Did she know about the vortex? No, how could she? But what if…? If he
could
close the vortex, would Sophia be normal again? Could they be together? If he could go back, he would do anything to keep her from going into that house. Even if she hated him for it.

His reaction to Jaimie’s over protectiveness had been childish. She wasn’t punishing him, she was afraid for him. Not
over
protectiveness, just love. He should’ve tried to breathe and keep it cool. He had to go home and set things right.

The words ‘I’m going home’ were about to leave his mouth. Then the wind sighed—a soft humming that started to grow and swell until a variety of pitches reached him. Someone sang in the darkness.

Gwynn leaped from the swing. He landed on the ground craning his neck in the sound’s direction. Maybe he had just been hearing things—one more symptom of his exposure to the tear.

The singing came closer.

Despite being unable to place the melody, it held a familiarity. A single voice, female, chanting. It wasn’t English. Latin? Was it even a true language?

Gwynn turned to Fuyuko. “Did you hear something?”

She shook her head, no. She jumped from the swing and took a step to stand beside Gwynn.

“What is it?” She asked.

“Shhh.” Gwynn tried to still everything in his body. The distracting thump in his chest the hardest to ignore. If Fuyuko couldn’t hear it, he could still be hallucinating. Had Pridament been wrong? Could his connection to the tear remain?

Gwynn’s body reacted to the singing. His muscles tensed, adrenaline pumped a euphoric high through his system. He felt stronger, ready. But for what?

Then he saw them.

“Oh God, no.”

Over the hill padded two creatures. Each had four muscular legs that carried their bull–sized bodies with ease and grace. Red, angry, eyes set in a dog–like head locked on to Fuyuko and Gwynn.

“Gwynn,” Fuyuko’s voice lacked any trace of fear, “get behind me.”

His mouth slackened. If he had super powers like Pridament said, why was
he
the one immobilized by fear? “But…”

“I’ll take care of this.”

The singing resonated all around him. Gwynn wanted to slam his hands over his ears, but the song crept inside him. A door began to open, a revelation of his secret history. Despite the threat of the monsters, the darkness inside frightened him far more. He willed the door to shut—he had no time for the skeletons there.

His skin prickled. Fuyuko had taken a defiant stance between Gwynn and the creatures. A faint glow emanated from Fuyuko’s right arm. The air around it condensed into a swirling mist, which then thinned out, stretched, thickened. Where once there had been nothing, Fuyuko now held a spear. The shaft appeared to be ice; a long, thin, razor–like blade ran along the top. She let out a long, slow breath.

Then she moved.