A Division of Souls - A Novel of the Mendaihu Universe (19 page)

“N—Natianos...” Janoss managed, staring at
the man that towered over him. “What…what just happened?”

Natianos, ill-dressed for this dank tunnel
in a tailored navy suit, crossed his arms and gave him a wilting
smile. Janoss Miradesi shivered in both awe and fear.

“Not yet,” he said, shaking his head. “You
will know when to awaken them.”

“I’m sorry, edha,” Janoss said, averting his
eyes.

“Janoss, my dear
sehnadha
.” His voice was
unnervingly calm. “We are equals here. There’s no need for
formalities. You are well?”

“Y—yes,” he said, and coughed one last time.
“Injured, but otherwise fine. What brings you down here?”

“Injured?” Natianos said, more as a
surprised comment than a question. He paused to study him, leaving
Janoss to wonder what the man was thinking of him at that moment.
Probably not much, he admitted. It had been a pathetic fight.

Janoss tested the air with a sigh before
speaking again. “I am afraid that we did not completely fulfill our
goals today. I was unable to obtain Reverend Miriam. I tried to
stop Nehalé Usarai, but he proved more powerful than I’d
expected.”

Natianos pursed his lips and nodded slowly.
“You have made our presence known,” he said after a moment. “That
is enough.”

Janoss frowned. “It’s not enough, you know
that. We need to do more.”

“You prepare too much,
Janoss!” he said. “You carried out the main objective, and that is
more than sufficient. The
hrrah-sehdhyn
movement is underway.
Soon the Mendaihu will understand why we have moved in such a
manner. We have let them think they have won — in fact, we even
pushed their plans farther ahead than they’d expected. The
hrrah-sehdhyn will prove to be their saving grace
and
their
downfall.”

Janoss nodded solemnly.

The nuhm’ndah shall no
longer be left to die,
Natianos said from
within.

“I…” Janoss
trembled.
We…are returning?

Yes…the nuhm’ndah are returning, as you have
promised to Nehalé Usarai and all his followers. There is a
gathering of Mendaihu and Shenaihu in the Waterfront sector as we
speak. Our humble Governor has even sanctioned it. It is there that
it will all happen.

Janoss found he couldn’t contain his silence
anymore and spoke aloud. “When is it all going to happen?”

“When the One enters Light for the first
time. That is when we shall move. She will be vulnerable, and more
importantly, she will not have truly transcended yet. Not until
then.”

“Yes, edha,” he said. “Will we have people
in the Waterfront?”

“They are already there, and they will know
when to act,” he said. Janoss thought caught a sense of sadness in
his voice, an affectation he couldn’t quite hide, but dared not
question it. “We have a number of Shenaihu infiltrating the crowds.
Highly trained, nearly impossible to track them down. They will
take over when ordered.”

Again, he heard that sadness. “Yes, sir,” is
all he could reply.

In the semi-darkness of the tunnel, Natianos
moved to Janoss’ side and put an arm around him. “Come,” he said,
quieter this time. “It is time we prepared ourselves.” He walked
forward from the way he came, and with Janoss in tow, the air
around them began to shimmer and undulate. Janoss had wanted to ask
where they were about to go when a nervous twitch took a hold of
him. Natianos pulled him forward through this undulating air and
together they entered the Light.

CHAPTER TEN

Sheila

Sheila Kennedy positioned herself flat
against the wall outside Nehalé Usarai's apartment, stunstik in
hand and a mental strand out for potential hazards — like those two
little brats hiding in the stairwell down the hall, waiting for the
action to unfold — and plotted out how she and Nick were going to
capture Nehalé and bring him in, if he was even here at this point.
Rumors had him in all corners of Bridgetown: he and his disciples
were already at a warehouse over in the Waterfront, he was seen
fraternizing with the Shenaihu in South City, he was hiding with
friends in Berndette Corner…he was even sensed around the Mirades
Tower again. She didn’t believe any of it, even if they were
positive readings. He was too smart to stay in one place; he was
also smart enough to leave numerous false trails…including here, in
his own apartment. She turned to Nick, who flanked the other side
of the doorframe, and pointed at the door.

He nodded and rapped on the door. “…edha
Nehalé Usarai?” he called. “Edha Usarai, this is the Alien
Relations Unit.” No answer came so he knocked again. He called out,
same words as before. Again, a third time, with still no answer.
“Huh,” he said. “Indisposed.”

“Up and out, more like it,” she frowned.
“Let me check.” She hated doing this, as it always felt like an
invasion of privacy, but it was a necessary evil. Out of their
four-person team, she was the best at it, even more so than Caren.
She pulled off a glove and placed a hand against the door, the
weathered wood rings rippling over her fingertips. She felt the
coldness within, the feeling of a window left open on a brisk
autumn day, and not much else. She listened for a few more seconds,
but found nothing.

“Nothing at all?” Nick asked in a
whisper.

“Hang on,” she said, more to herself than to
Nick. She put the stunstik away, took off her other glove, and put
both hands on the door. She closed her eyes, and willfully shut out
all extraneous sounds and sensations.

She very nearly missed them, but they were
there, hiding way below the surface. The pools of energy had faded,
nearly to the point of nonexistence. What she now picked up were
the false memories that so often came with any dwelling. They were
leftover waves of emotions, life essences, and records of moments
that lingered for a while after a person left their dwelling. She
concentrated on the most coherent memories and attempted to stir
them to life again. It wasn’t too hard, once she knew where and
what they were. All they needed was a breath of moving energy.
Almost immediately she felt a lift in ambience…Nehalé had been here
very recently, probably within the last two hours. Shapes and
notions fell away, replaced with more concrete images of the
apartment. Slowly all the energies swirled and came together,
becoming synchronous and coherent in her mind...

Nehalé Usarai sits in the apartment most
days, when he's not at work. He doesn't do much. No vidmats, no
sound system, no mediachips. No computers, either. He just sits
there, most of the night.

Doing what??

Listening.

He's listening to...something? The
Sprawl? No. Wait — yes! He
is
listening to the Sprawl. Like
I'm listening to him. He hears...

No. Can't reach it. He's...he's listening to
us? To human life? Why?

Sheila pulled her hands away from the door
and opened her eyes, backing away for the moment. Now that she knew
where to reach, reconnecting would be easier. She relaxed and
turned back to the door.

“What?” he said.

“He’s a Watcher, that’s for certain,” she
said. She tested the doorknob and was surprised to find it
unlocked. She waved at Nick to hold just in case, and opened the
door, pushing herself against the frame as the door swung open
wide. It thudded against the entrance wall, echoing into the
apartment. It was not the echo she wanted to hear; it fully
reverberated off all the walls, like a voice in a completely bare
room. She peered around for a quick look. “I think it's empty,” she
muttered.

“You think…?” he said flatly.

“Shut up,” she said, and pointed into the
apartment. “You first.”

Nick held his stunstik in hand, and entered
quickly and quietly. Sheila glanced down the hall, towards the
stairwell, and frowned. The two kids were still there, around the
corner, waiting. They were thinking about getting closer to the
excitement, as soon as they entered the apartment. That was the
last thing she needed.

Get out of here, you little shits!
she said within.

The kids responded with sudden yelping and
scampering down to the lower floors, culminating with a loud slam
of a stairwell door downstairs. Throwing her inner voice was the
first Mendaihu trick she'd learned as a novice. She hardly ever
used it, but it certainly came in handy when she had to chase
people away from a potential crime scene.

“All clear,” Nick said from within the
apartment.

She entered the apartment and stopped
midstride, surprised and more than a little disturbed by what she
saw. The place had been completely emptied out, including all the
furniture and appliances. There were fresh scratches on the
hardwood floor, and sun-faded outlines on the institutional beige
walls, signs that furniture, frames and floor coverings had been
there for quite some time, and had been moved just recently. There
was one rather large patch of wall in the common area lighter than
the rest and outlined by multiple nail holes, which gave the
impression that a large widescreen vidmat had once hung there.
Other telltale spots revealed shelving units, a mediachip player
unit...all contradicting what she'd just sensed outside in the
hallway.

“
Pashyo
,” she huffed. “Not only does
the guy vanish with the rest of his crap, he puts a fake cover on
it as well. He was stacked with media here.”

Nick hummed in answer. He was pacing around
the apartment's perimeter, gloves on and picking up stray pieces of
paper or objects that had been left behind. He poked into the back
bedroom, the tiny bathroom, and the kitchenette, and found nothing
worth keeping. It was all dirt, dust, and paint chips — signs that
someone had just recently moved out and the landlord hadn’t yet
ordered a quick turnover renovation. He exited the short hallway
and entered the main living room again. “What’s the reading
inside?” he asked.

She made a quick scan and came up with
nothing out of the ordinary. Or more to the point, the reading was
exactly the same as the one she’d taken at the door—nothing but
memory puddles of what the apartment once looked like, probably not
a day ago. Something was out of place here, but she couldn’t quite
pinpoint where it was. Nehalé had to have left something that one
with her abilities would be able to find. She slowly made a third
scan, this time pacing the edges of the apartment. She ignored the
physical attributes around her, searching instead for a memory
puddle where it wouldn’t normally be. She stopped again after
coming full circle, standing almost directly underneath a bare
light bulb. She grunted, and moved back to the center of the room,
disappointed.

“Maybe I'm just listening to the wrong
things,” she said, and closed her eyes—

nuhm’ndah.

The word hit her directly and without
warning. It echoed within her soul as a feedback loop and grew in
intensity, forcing her backwards and out of the memory puddle. Eyes
wide and gasping for air, she dizzily reached out behind her,
misjudged her distance from the wall, and hit it hard with the back
of her head. She swore again and fell flat against it in an attempt
to keep from falling over. The piercing voice vanished almost as
quickly as it had appeared, but the pain still lingered.

One word, cleverly hidden, was all it took
to incapacitate her, however briefly.

Nick stared at her, keeping his distance and
remaining calm, but his eyes full of fear. “What just
happened?”

“I...I’m okay,” she managed, barely
restraining her anger. Nehalé had violated her spiritual space with
that planted word, and she had let it happen because she hadn’t
been paying attention. “Everything just suddenly went...
cold
for a second,” she added. She looked at her hands; they were
shaking slightly. She looked at Nick, saw him drop what he had and
step quickly over to her. She began to waver…not a good sign. She
tried pushing off, felt her head begin to spin, and fell back
heavily against it, relishing the cold wall against her back.
Through the haze of her sudden dizziness, she found focus, and
willed herself to return.

“What happened?” he asked again. His hands
were held up before him, still ready to catch her. She found his
stance unexpectedly amusing; it had just occurred to her that his
hands were right about at the same level as her breasts, the first
thing he’d come in contact with if she’d fallen forwards instead.
Nick was too much of a gentleman to ever let that happen, but the
thought struck her as hilarious, and made her giggle even more.
“What the hell are you laughing about?” he frowned.

She waved the question away. Why
was
she laughing? Why had that random thought popped in? Then it
occurred to her — Nehalé had probably infused the area around the
memory puddle with positive energy, especially just in case of an
occasion like this. He wasn’t just an adept, he was a healer as
well. “Nehalé's certainly our suspect. I just tripped over a memory
puddle he left behind for us.”

Nick mouthed a curse. “At least we know he
was here. But that still doesn't prove—”

“We don't need to prove anything here,” she
interrupted, frowning. “That wasn't just a random puddle I hit. He
put that there on purpose for someone like me to find.”

>
chk chk ch-chk
<

“Ah, crap,” she grumbled at the hailing of
her commlink, and grabbed it from her belt at the same time he went
for his. “Yeah, this is Kennedy.”

Dispatch wasted no time filling them in. “We
received a call-in about a disturbance in the area of St.
Patrick's, possibly inside the church…witnesses are sensing
residual spiritual energies and possible conflict.”