The Unseen Trilogy (20 page)

His observation made me flinch. I hadn’t played since the day after Maddie’s death, the day I agreed to be part of the Unseen. I’d seen her spirit so plainly, leaning against the piano so she could listen to me play, her face drawn into a relaxed smile. I could almost hear her humming along, her beautiful voice a soft whisper carried along by the notes I banged out of the piano. Part of me wanted desperately to play again, just to bring her back. Another part of me was terrified she wouldn’t be there this time. Maybe she’d said her goodbyes that night, and I’d never see her again. If I didn’t play at all, I could still hold onto those slender threads of hope.

“So, what do you say?”

I looked down at the pamphlet again. The festival was being held at my alma mater, Florida State. The performances would be in several auditoriums, so people could easily walk from one concert to the next. It was a great venue for the prestigious event, and it would only cement the school’s reputation as the premier music school in the area. Over twenty thousand people were expected to attend,
so book your seats today
, the brochure implored.

As much as I wanted to stay locked up in my room—in my grief—forever, I knew I couldn’t. I tried to smile at him, but it was like my face had forgotten how. So I nodded instead.

His face lit up as he jumped up from the bed and scooped me into his arms. Hugging me close, he spun around, and I caught the stool with my legs. It rolled across the room, but Owen didn’t even notice. He was too joyful.

He kissed me earnestly, which surprised me. We hadn’t shared a real kiss in quite some time. Sensing my need for space, he’d kissed away my tears, kissed my forehead when we parted ways, things like that, but this was different. It was full of potential—potential for our future, for the life we could share if I wanted it.

He smiled from ear to ear as he set me down. “This will be so fun, and hopefully, it’s just what you need to remind you of who you are.”

That was an awfully lofty expectation for Coda, despite the fact I had long considered it a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but I didn’t want to kill his enthusiasm.

For the first time since the day Maddie died, I found my voice. It was raspy and cracked with disuse, but it was there, waiting for me. “Thank you,” I said and weakly attempted to clear my throat.

Owen beamed at me. “Wow. You could totally play a Star Wars villain with that voice.”

Again, I felt like I should smile, and I almost wanted to. Almost.

Thinking of everything he’d done for me—and how little I’d given back—I blurted out, “Owen, why are you being so good to me?” The question had plagued me for days.

He sighed. “I know what you’re going through, Mac, and I don’t expect anything from you, if that’s what you think. I’m here to let you know you’re not alone. I’m not going to lie—I hope we can have a more two-sided relationship when you’re ready—but we don’t have to decide that now. Until then, all I want to do is be there for you.”

It was the perfect answer, and it reminded me of exactly why Owen had captured my heart, why I’d wanted to be with him once all the secrets between us fell away. Could he fill the void Maddie had left in my life? No, probably not. But could his love heal my broken heart? Maybe, if I was willing to let it.

I tried to smile at him, but the effort was too much. I’d already said thank you, so I was left with nothing, no way to show him my gratitude.

He smiled knowingly and saved me from saying more. “Maybe you’d like to join me for a movie? Remember, I have the whole day off to celebrate that you’re rejoining the world.” He held his hand out for me to take, looking at me with that same hope in his eye. This time, my chin didn’t quiver. My tears were spent, for now.

But my exhaustion wasn’t. I glanced back at my bed. This was the most action I’d had in days. It was enough for me, but apparently not for Owen.

“Come on. It’ll be fun,” he promised, still holding his hand out for me.

Silently, I took his hand and followed him upstairs. Just like that, I rejoined the world of the living, but the ghosts of my past followed close behind.

The days that followed my shower were a blur of being paraded around the facility and kept busy playing video games, doing mindless chores, or watching movies. Owen suggested playing the piano a few times, but I evaded him.

Aside from Owen, I continued to spend a lot of time with Mitchell. It was too much effort to try and form new friendships with any of the girls in the Unseen. They weren’t unkind to me, but I kept them at a distance, and they all seemed fine with that.

Mitchell and I often sat in silence in the main room, no pressure on either of us to speak. He might sit on one couch with his legs stretched out in front of him, reading a book or listening to some podcast he’d found, while I would lay on the adjoining couch, staring off into my haze, our bodies following the L-shape of the furniture. We hardly ever turned on the TV, despite its huge, imposing presence on the other side of the room. Mitchell never asked me if I wanted something to read—he just let me sit—and because of that, I found him very comforting. He was there if I wanted to talk, but he never seemed disappointed if I didn’t.

David kept his distance for the most part, and I appreciated his decision to give me some space. I couldn’t deal with the constant drain of my grief, let alone form a relationship with my long-lost father.

But, eventually, he called me into his office, apparently tired of waiting for me to seek him out. “Hi,” he said after I sat down in front of his desk, the simple greeting delivered almost cautiously.

I looked at him, not feeling like that needed a response. Responses required too much effort, for very little return. At any rate, everyone seemed to be getting used to my new, quieter nature, so he didn’t miss a beat when I didn’t answer him.

“It’s been over two weeks since…” He paused. “Since you moved in with us. I think it’s time for you to return to your training. Tracy is ready to begin tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Are you ready?”

I shrugged.

David sighed. “Now look, I know you feel like you’ve lost everything, but I wish you could see that you’ve gained a few things too. You’re not alone here, Mackenzie. We’re all trying to give you some space, but I have to tell you, your attitude is less than encouraging. You have the most potential of anyone I’ve ever seen come through my office. Will you throw that away because you’re too blinded by your grief to seize the life that’s in front of you?”

My eyes narrowed as anger loosened my tongue. He wasn’t my father any more than the woman I’d grown up with was my aunt. “So, now you want to give me some fatherly advice?”

The beginnings of a frown formed on his face. “No, I’m just trying to help.”

“You want to help?” My anger was flowing freely now that the dam had broken. “How about throwing some understanding my way, instead of judging me for the poor way I’m handling my grief?”

His frown gained traction, and I frowned back. We sat there that way for a few minutes, our disapproval for each other mirrored on our faces. Finally, I asked, “Anything else?”

“No,” he said, clearly unhappy with me.

I got up and left, considering David’s reaction to me. The old Mac would’ve been upset that I’d stepped out of line and would’ve wanted to correct it. But the new girl couldn’t find the will to care. It was easier to just let everyone’s concern flow off me.

Owen met me in the gym outside David’s office, like always. “How’d it go?”

“How is it that no matter where you are with a job, you’re always here waiting for me whenever I’m done with training or a meeting?” It came out sharper than I’d intended—almost like an accusation. I reminded myself that my irritation was with David, not with Owen. The hurt look on his face made me regret speaking at all.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” I amended. “Thank you for being here.”

He nodded. “I just happen to be good at managing my duties. That, and I asked to be given only research jobs for the next few weeks while you—” he paused, seeming to search for the words, “—while you ease back into things.”

I smiled and took his hand as we walked toward the stairwell.

“So, how did it go?” he asked again.

“They want me to start training again.” I decided not to say anything about David’s little pep talk. Talking about it would mean going places I wasn’t in the mood to go, giving explanations I wasn’t ready to give, feeling things I didn’t want to feel. Better to pretend it hadn’t happened.

“That’s good news, right?” He looked at me, searching my face for some kind of indication of how I felt, but it was an ill-fated mission. I felt nothing—well, nothing but grief.

“When do you start?”

“Tomorrow, I guess.”

We walked upstairs together. When he squeezed my hand, I wasn’t sure which one of us he was trying to reassure.

That night, Mitchell and I sat alone in the gym while Owen did some research for a confidential job. He didn’t tell me the details, and I didn’t ask—not because I was afraid he wouldn’t tell me, but because my heart wasn’t in it, at least not yet. The main room was full of nightly movie watchers, and I was still avoiding the library where my piano was kept, so we retreated downstairs.

He was lifting some free weights in front of the wall of mirrors while I sat on the floor, pulling at a thread in one of the mats.

“I’m going to start training again tomorrow.”

“Mmm,” he said as he curled the twenty-pounder to his chest.

“I don’t want to.”

“I know.”

Instead of getting upset at his simplistic response and lack of encouragement, I only felt relief. He
did
know how I felt, but he didn’t judge me, try to tell me I should be ready, or encourage me to refuse.

In that moment, it was enough. At least, it was enough to get me through to the next day.

In the days that followed, I didn’t have any luck getting past Tracy’s defenses. Owen tried to comfort me, but his concern was plain in the way he tiptoed around me. He tried to be encouraging at every opportunity, and never pushed me to do anything I wasn’t ready for, but I could see the worry in his eyes. Tracy seemed more and more concerned with each passing day.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to try very hard. As soon as I found myself in her mental landscape, I would just sit Indian style in front of the barbed wire fence day after day, unable to properly concentrate on the task at hand. All I could think about was the image of Maddie disintegrating in front of me and how alone I felt on, and off, that battlefield.

She’s left me forever,
I thought one afternoon as the dew from Tracy’s battlefield seeped through my yoga pants. But the cold couldn’t compete with the shivers of loneliness wracking my body at that moment.

After a week had passed with no progress, Tracy took action.

I sat across from her and started to enter her mind, but she stopped me. “Today, we’re just going to talk.”

“What?” Tracy never wanted to talk. My curiosity threatened to part the haze.

“It has never taken you this long to make progress with your training. You might not master a skill right away, but you can at least stumble toward achieving it.” She paused, searching my face. “I can tell you’re not even trying.”

What was I supposed to say to that? She was right, I wasn’t trying, and I didn’t want to try. I just wanted to be left alone.

You
are
alone.
The thought nearly loosed the sob I was keeping at bay in the back of my throat.

She sighed. “You know, Mackenzie, I understand how you feel. I’ve lost friends, family, loved ones.” She paused. “Seems like everyone I get close to is eventually taken from me.”

My grief turned to anger in a flash, and I glared at her. If she’d felt losses too, why couldn’t she throw me a rope? Because she’d
honored
her loved ones by working harder, not despairing? She thought my depression was a weakness. “Turns out I’m not so special after all, huh?” I sneered. “Everyone’s got some sob story here. You all know what I’m going through, but somehow, no one can understand my behavior.” I stood up, but before I stormed out, I threw one last barb Tracy’s way.

“I guess I’ve dishonored Maddie for too long, hmm? I must be a lost cause.”

I started toward the door, but I didn’t make it two steps before Tracy’s vice-like grip snatched my arm. “What do you mean, you’ve dishonored Maddie?”

“I heard what you said to David about how you reacted differently to your losses. And how my actions are dishonoring Maddie’s memory.” I looked at her accusingly, practically spitting the words at her.

She let go of my arm. “That’s not exactly what I said. And just because we handle our grief differently doesn’t mean I’m right and you’re wrong. It just means I’m not sure how best to help you.”

I sank back down into my chair, pouting, although I wasn’t really sure why. Tracy wasn’t wrong in her assessment. Then again, neither was I.

We sat in stalemate for a few moments until Tracy softly spoke up. “Mackenzie, think about how hurt you are over Maddie’s death. Don’t you want to work hard to keep it from happening again, if not for you, then for someone else? Think of another young woman losing her best friend. Why would you wish that on someone?”

“I don’t,” I said after a few heartbreaking beats.

“But your actions, or lack thereof, say you do.”

I thought about that for a moment. I had been taking Owen and the Unseen for granted. What if they needed me to be an active part of their team? What if my lack of care helped lead to their downfall? Then I would really be alone. The thought made me shudder.

Tracy leaned forward, her blue eyes boring into what was left of my hazy soul. “You have the power to defeat the Potestas once and for all. After everything they’ve done to you, why wouldn’t you want to seize that power?”

My eyes narrowed as I thought of all the ways I would harm them if I ever found out who they were. They would beg for death before I was done with them; I would make sure of that. “I do,” I said, my voice low and menacing.

Tracy sat back in her chair, a satisfied smile on her face. “Then let’s get to work.”

The rest of the training day was frustrating for me. My new resolve made me daring. I finally tried vaulting over her barbed wire, but I didn’t get enough speed or height and ended up in a tangled mess. The barbed wire poked into my arms and legs, and the fence gave me the shock of a lifetime. Tracy laughed at me as I tried to soothe my invisible wounds on the other side of the training room.

“Decided not to go with a subtle approach, eh?” she said through her laughter.

My glare just made her laugh harder.

“I suppose that’s enough for today.” She looked at me as she stood. “It was a good effort today, if unsuccessful. That’s all I want from you. Effort.”

I nodded, still rubbing my arms as she walked out.

That night, as Owen and I ate dinner in the dining room, I couldn’t concentrate on the conversation unfurling around us. At least it wasn’t because of my haze this time. It was because of Tracy’s barbed wire. How could I get past it?

“So, are you getting excited about Coda?” Owen asked me.

“What?” I looked up at him, trying to replay what he’d said. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

He frowned. “Sure seems like it.” He stabbed at his food, clearly frustrated with me.

In that moment, I felt bad about my behavior. He’d done something thoughtful and kind to try to make me feel better, and I’d basically ignored it. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” I reached across the table and touched his hand to let him know I meant it. He looked up from his plate, a hopeful expression on his face. “I’m trying,” I said simply.

He turned his hand over and grabbed mine. “I know.”

Our hands remained entwined as we ate in silence for a few moments, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. “I tried jumping the fence today.”

“Oh? How’d it go?”

I cringed at the memory. My arms still ached, and I felt a little twitchy from the shock.

“That good, huh? So, what’s your next move?”

“I honestly don’t know. I’m out of ideas.”

“Wow, you’re in trouble if your only idea was one of mine.”

I balled up my napkin and threw it at him, and he laughed louder than the situation warranted.

Mitchell sat a few seats down from us, trying to give us some space to eat together. But I wanted to pick his brain. “Hey Mitchell,” I called out. He looked up and nodded. “How did you get past Tracy’s defenses?”

“Well, I—” Just as I was about to get my answer, I spotted Tracy carrying her dinner plate across the room. She walked over and put a hand on Mitchell’s shoulder.

“He got creative. Perhaps that’s something you should consider, instead of stealing ideas from your colleagues. Out in the field, you’ll have no one but yourself to rely on,” she said. After giving me a disapproving frown that made me feel about five years old, she walked away.

“Great,” I said. “I’ve disappointed her again.” It was out of my mouth before I could stop it, and I cringed, bracing myself for Owen’s reaction.

But he didn’t bombard me with questions or encouragement. He simply moved the conversation to lighter things. “I was thinking I’d rent a limo for Coda. Really show my girl a good time.”

“That sounds great.” I said, successfully forcing a small smile. The emotion wasn’t there, but at least I knew my face could still form the expression.

“Maybe you should get a new dress to wear. You know, just for fun.”

“Maybe I should.” But the thought of shopping without Maddie threatened to throw me back into darkness. “Maybe I can borrow something from one of the other girls.” Seeing the disappointment crowd in on his expression, I added, “The festival is three days long. Who can afford three brand-new fancy dresses anyway?”

“Being awfully presumptuous, aren’t we? I never said I’d take you to all three days.” He smiled mischievously behind his fork as he stabbed at his salad.

“Oh, well, I’m not planning to miss any of the days. I can always find another date if you’re not willing. I hear I’m quite exceptional.” I didn’t really feel that special after my morning with Tracy, but I said it anyway. Perhaps faking confidence would help me feel it once more.

“Yes, well, being exceptional is an attractive quality.” The desire in his eyes was hard to ignore.

It sparked something deep inside me, something that had been lying dormant for weeks. But before it could catch, I went back to eating my dinner, feeling drained from the effort of holding back the haze. Mitchell eyed me from across the table, and he gave me a knowing nod.

Honestly, I would’ve welcomed some quiet time with Mitchell, but Owen was done with his research for the moment, so that meant a movie after dinner. I dreaded the nightly movie, since my bed was calling to me more loudly than ever. But at least it would relieve me of social obligations such as talking. If Owen had wanted to go for a walk, play a game with the others, or do anything else requiring some kind of interaction from me, I might have collapsed right there in front of him.

No, that night, I didn’t need to exchange pleasantries. I needed… what? Peace. To figure out how to get into Tracy’s mind. Maddie’s face floated across my mind’s eye once more—that same lifeless Maddie who’d accompanied me to the war zone. A sob bubbled at the back of my throat, but it didn’t make it nearly as close to escaping, which I considered a win.

After the movie, I went to bed with visions of Tracy, her battlefield, Maddie, and my old life swirling in my head, unable to find peace as they all warred for space and the haze threatened at the edges of my mind.

The following day, I sat in front of Tracy’s fence, wondering what to do. Then a sudden thought occurred to me. Something Tracy had said about reality. What was it?

Reality is a fluid concept in the world of the mind. It’s real because your mind believes it to be.

I looked at her fence, knowing it wasn’t real. None of it was. The reality was that I was sitting in the training room in a particularly uncomfortable metal chair across from a hard-as-nails woman who was both trying to keep me out of her mind and secretly hoping I’d get in. I wasn’t on an old battlefield. It wasn’t a relic of death and destruction from long ago. It was Tracy’s made-up ruse to keep people at a distance, and it worked.

“It’s not real,” I said aloud as I stretched out my hand toward the fence. Closing my hand over one of the barbs, I didn’t brace myself for the stabbing to come or the shock of electricity. It wasn’t real, and I finally knew it. The barb passed through my hand as if I were a ghost.

I waited silently for Tracy’s response, thinking she’d notice I discovered her weakness. Surprisingly, she said nothing, so I stood up and took a step toward her fence. One more and I’d be right in the middle of it, or it would be right in the middle of me. It was an odd feeling to have a barbed wire fence go straight through the center of your body. My body screamed that there should be some kind of sensation, but I forced my mind to remain calm.

It’s not real,
I repeated to myself. Slowly, in no more than four steps, I walked straight through the fence that had kept me at bay for weeks. When I reached the other side, I turned to look back to look at the battlefield I’d finally crossed. I wanted to dance, to celebrate my victory, but I didn’t. Tracy hadn’t seemed to notice my breach, and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself yet. I wanted to see just how far I could go. I pushed on.

Approaching the trenches slowly, I peered down into them. Owen had said he never made it past the trenches, but he hadn’t told me why. It made me leery. A yellow fog hung inside, obstructing the view to the bottom.
Mustard gas?
I wondered.

Squatting down at the edge of the trench, I debated what to do. It was too wide to just jump over. I’d have to climb through it, which meant breathing in whatever that yellow fog was. It would get on my skin, in my eyes, and in my lungs. I imagined it burning holes in my clothes, leaving me coughing and clawing at my eyes. Just the thought was enough to make me want to turn around.
It’s either real or it isn’t,
I told myself as I hopped down into the abyss.

The instinct to cough was overwhelming. To squelch it, I took a deep breath and swallowed, reminding myself that the gas was a creation of Tracy’s mind. When I took in a deep breath, it was the air in the training room that was entering my lungs, not the yellow fog that surrounded my subconscious self.

Turned out the trench wasn’t that deep, just tall enough to cover my head. If I stood on my tiptoes, I could barely see over the edge of it. I walked to the other side, working hard to not get disoriented, and hoisted myself back onto the battlefield.

Looking back toward the fence, I silently congratulated myself, feeling like my accomplishment warranted some kind of fanfare.
Two down. One to go.

But when I turned around again, I realized an immense and foreboding wall of dark bricks stood in front of me. Stretching as far and as high as I could see, it loomed over me. Smooth to the touch, there was no way to climb it, and I feared I could walk forever and never come to the end of it. There was no gate, no weak point, no corners, not even a tiny little storm drain. This wall had been built to keep people out, and it served its purpose well.