Chapter #19The Lost Boy by: Seuzz   "We have to look into that sigil at the statue,” Charles says. “We could make a start on that now, Siobhan. Frank won’t be here for another day anyway.”
"I've got some unfinished business here, sir," you say quietly.
"I thought you might. It's very good to have met you," he says to Robert and Verity, and steals out of the booth.
There's an awkward silence after he's gone. Robert leans forward to nurse his mug. "So you ran off to join a magic act," he finally says.
"Robert, don't be like this," Verity says.
"How do you want me to--!"
"It's alright," you say. "I understand. If I could have told you--"
You give him a sidelong look. Despite his seeming familiarity, he's practically a stranger: no longer the pert, brattish, goofy-grinned middle schooler you used to tussle with, but a tall, broad-shouldered college student. And you've changed, too. If you're having such a hard time placing Robert as your brother, how much harder should it be for him to place this young woman--Siobhan Connor--as his brother? You wish you could show him your old face, your original face. But a public coffee shop is not the place to make a change, and you've not the wardrobe.
"What did mom and dad do with my things?" you ask.
Robert glares down into his coffee. "Mom kept your room together for a year or two, hoping you'd--" He breaks off with a twitch. "Dad finally made her get rid of it. Put the small stuff in the attic, gave the big stuff away. She still has a few. Your old teddy bear--" His knuckles whiten. "You fucker," he says in a cracked whisper. "The things you did before you--"
"That wasn't me. Whatever he did--" You catch Verity nodding slightly at Robert. "Stop acting like a fucking lie detector, Verity. I'm not going to lie to my brother, not when I have a chance to finally-- Look, this isn't the place to talk. Let's go find a motel, someplace private."
No one moves for a moment, even after you stand. Robert finally slides from his seat, and gently helps Verity to her feet. They follow you outside.
* * * * *
You drive out to the cheap side of town, to a forlorn, run-down motel on the old highway, and rent a cheap room with two double beds. Robert and Verity stand awkwardly by the door as you drop your "quick change" bag onto a bed and pull out a big t-shirt and some track pants. You turn your back to them as you pull off your blouse and slip off your skirt. "This is going to be weird," you say over your shoulder. Robert stares stonily back. "Don't freak out like you used to."
You step back into darkness, and your faces blaze before you. That which belonged to Will Prescott is one of the dimmer ones, on the margins. You rarely use it, for it's not very useful, and is too often a painful reminder of your past. But you draw it on now, even as you pull the track pants up your legs and over your hips. You straighten up, feeling small and bony and very awkward, and turn around.
Robert's eyes widen, but only slightly, and white spots show on his cheekbones. "I told you it was me, Robert," you say. "See?"
Verity frowns. "What happened?" she asks.
But Robert says nothing. He sways a little as he takes a step toward you. You fight the urge to step back, for he's a few inches taller than you, and much bigger. You have a sudden and deeply discomfiting flashback to high school, and to the athletes that used to shove you around. Robert comes directly up to you, his eyes hard. He raises both his hands, and you brace for a blow to the face.
It doesn't come, though he does ball up his fists. He rests them on your shoulders, and you feel him trembling. His face works and twitches, emotions churning beneath his taut muscles. "You haven't changed," he says in a tight voice.
"I've changed a lot more than--"
But he doesn't stay to listen. Abruptly, he stalks from the room, slamming the door hard behind him.
"Well, that went better than I expected," you sigh.
"He'll be back," Verity says. She sits on a corner of the bed. "I can't really make out what happened," she says. "Your voice is different."
"This is my old voice. My old face and body. I'm kind of a shapeshifter now."
"Huh. Your boss said something about 'powers'--"
"And that's mine. It's not as cool as you might think."
"Being a 'fucking lie detector' isn't as cool as you might think," she replies.
"I'm sorry I said that, Verity. It's been an emotional day."
She nods. "There's a lot to think about." She purses her lips. "I told you I've been able to spot lies for as long as I can remember. Have you been able to do this since--?"
"No. It was an accident. Or maybe it was fate. In this business it's sometimes hard to tell them apart." You sit next to her. "How did you meet Robert?"
"Hmm? Oh, it was last year. He was still in high school. I'd just come out to Keyserling on a scholarship. We met in the library. He helped me with some things. We met a few more times after that. Things went from there. He's very sweet, very kind. He sometimes has trouble with his temper."
"Probably my fault. It must have been tough after-- Did he ever talk about me? I don't know what happened here after--"
"He just told me enough, that you'd disappeared. He said you'd fallen in with a bad crowd. He didn't like talking about it."
"I'd tell you what happened, but I want him here for that too."
"He'll be back." She fumbles a hand over to you. "They don't seem like a bad crowd, if that man who interviewed me--"
"It wasn't them. The Stellae are great. Well, most of them. Some are hard to deal with, but most of them--" You squeeze her hand. "You don't have to join, Verity. We never make anyone join, but--"
"But what about Robert?" she says. "Would he want to lose me to them too?"
"He wouldn't have to. Even if you joined us, we sometimes have relationships with people who aren't-- Who aren't like us. Some of us marry." You feel your face draw up as you think of Joe and Rosalie. "Some of us marry each other, and some marry people who aren't."
You sit quietly like this for a very long time, not speaking, each lost in your own thoughts. She's probably thinking about Robert. You're thinking about him too, but also about her. She doesn't seem lost. She could probably do well on her own, especially with Robert to look out for her. But could he deal with her, knowing what Charles said about her, and knowing that she has this odd connection to the mysterious group that took his brother away from him?
You feel around these thoughts, rather than exploring them deeply. You can read and manipulate emotions, but your mastery has also taught you how difficult and treacherous they can be, how unfathomable intentions and feelings can be. Whatever Robert feels and decides will have to be done without your influence.
* * * * *
After twenty minutes or so, Robert returns. He's pale, and looks like he's had an intense workout. His face is set in a grim expression, but his eyes are haggard, and he looks taken aback all over again when he claps his eyes on you. He keeps his hand on the handle to the door. "Okay," he grunts. "So you've shown me that you're really who you said you are. Unless this is some trick or other. What now?"
"Do you want me to talk?" you ask him. "Do you want me to tell you everything that's happened to me, and why?"
"If it'll make you feel better," he says, and looks away.
Maybe it will and maybe it won't, but it'll be worse if you cut this meeting short. So you tell your story. It emerges flatly and factually. "My senior year in high school, fall semester. I found this book at Arnholm's. It was a book of magic, a real one. I tried getting rid of it, because it spooked me. I sold it a professor at Keyserling, but he was also a black magician. I took a job with him, because he offered me a lot of money. He saw I had some kind of talent. But he put a hex on me, a thing that made me unpopular at school. It was a way of keeping me under his control. It started to ruin my life."
"I remember that year," Robert says. "You turned into an asshole. Mom and Dad--"
"It wasn't me by that point," you say. "I had an accident at his house. It destroyed my body. It's a complicated thing," you hastily add, for you've noticed Verity stiffen a little. "We made up a kind of fake, like a magical robot, to go back and pretend to be me. It had the same hex on it. That was the thing that-- Well, it did whatever it was that you remember me doing."
You go on to describe meeting Frank and Joe, and working with them to battle Blackwell; how you chose to join the Stellae after discovering what you had; how you left to train in LA and London with other Stellae. "It was always in the back of my mind, that I could come back home," you say. "But there was always something else I had to do first. Some bit of training. A mission. Time went by, and I never--" You trail off. You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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