A Division of Souls - A Novel of the Mendaihu Universe (22 page)

Next door, Poe was taking Nick through a
less intense line of repeated questioning. Caren felt sorry for
him...for both men, actually. Nick had joined this ragtag
department of oddities and misfits nearly two years ago — he had
requested a transfer from South City Metro Police, and in that span
of time, the most he'd ever seen was a small riot caused by
neo-antialienists in the Waterfront District. If Nick walked after
what he’d seen, Caren would not stop him.

Sheila finished first, exiting the room and
cursing under her breath. She paused in the doorway, rubbing her
eyes and shaking her head, frustrated and angry, yet accepting the
interview with grudging acceptance. Her sensing abilities had been
maxed out twice in the same afternoon, and the exhaustion showed on
her face and body. Lifting her eyes, she saw Caren and offered a
weak smile. Farraway abruptly cut between them with barely an
acknowledgement, and walked away silently towards the back
stairway. No doubt he was just as pissed off.

“Hey,” Sheila said, her voice soft and weak.
She stood close, too close. Caren hadn’t expected the proximity and
shifted.

“Uh...hey,” she said nervously. “You
okay?”

Sheila gave her a noncommittal shrug. Her
energy had peaked some time ago, and she was not taking the crash
too well. She wavered, but only slightly, as she stood. She touched
Caren on the shoulder and squeezed. “Yeah,” she breathed. “I'm
cool. Thanks for being there.” She moved forward and embraced her.
“You saved me yet again.”

Yet again.
Goddess, she’d forgotten about this feeling, this
nervousness. Years ago, before they were both ARU agents. Caren
awkwardly circled her arms around her, countless memories flooding
back, the emotions behind them struggling to escape. She had
forgotten the sensation, the closeness that she had felt with
Sheila. She had never been afraid of this unconditional love she
had for those closest to her, and especially those she worked with
and had cared about for close to ten years...yet something was
missing now. A dark chasm, partly due to the loss of her parents
and partly her self-imposed distance, had opened between herself
and nearly everyone she knew. Sheila, who had once been her longest
and closest friend, now seemed a dreamlike oasis of serenity she
could not permit herself to approach, only to view from
afar.

She was almost unaware that Sheila had been
crying into her shoulder.

“Shhh....hey,” she
whispered into her hair. Words she had meant to keep inside slipped
out: “Hey, kiddo. You're still my
sehnadha
. Don't go losing it on
me.”

A sob that could have been
a laugh was her response. Caren drew her in, caressing her
protectively.
Goddess, how I miss
this...
They embraced, longer and closer,
this time without the wall of distance. Sheila pulled away first,
but only to look at her straight on. She half-hid a devilish grin
behind the palm that wiped away her tears.

“…sehnadha, huh?” she
laughed. “Haven't heard you call me
that
in a long time.”

Caren found herself blushing, but couldn't
do anything to cover it. They were still close friends, even after
a five-year absence of emotion. She admitted to herself that she
did miss her, terribly.

“My
shadhisi,
” Sheila whispered, winking
at her.

Caren couldn't help but laugh, a secret joke
between them. She did miss her, more than she could ever possibly
show her, but those emotions had been from another time, another
place entirely. The most she could do now was remain loyal and
caring, and Sheila had accepted that. She drew her into another
embrace. “Hey,” she whispered into her ear. “I'm just glad you're
alive, girl.”

“Me too, kiddo.” She pushed her out of the
foyer and into the main hallway. “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s get
something to eat.”

“Fine time to think about eating,” Caren
teased. “We’d better use the cafeteria…it looks like Farraway is
fixing to haul us into another team meeting.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” she said. “He’d just
about had enough Telling for one day, by the looks of things.”

Caren sensed there were unspoken words, and
stopped her in the middle of the hallway. “What did Farraway ask
you?”

“Nothing…” she shrugged. “Nothing important,
really. Just wondering if…”

Caren nodded. “…wondering if you and Nick
were comfortable with this case, right?”

Sheila did not look surprised at all. “Yeah.
That’s the gist of it. He was so hard-assed about it at first, at
least with Nick and me…now he’s all over us, making sure we’re safe
and sound. Almost sounds as if he’s covering his own butt.”

Caren shook her head quickly. “If he can ask
about me and mention my parents all in one go, he’s
definitely
not hiding anything. Protecting us, maybe, but
hiding for his own safety?” She shook her head again, pushing off
towards the cafeteria again. “Not a chance.”

Sheila wasted no time picking up the cue.
“So what would he be protecting us from, if he were in fact doing
so?”

“I wish I knew,” she lied.

*

Poe stared into his tilted coffee mug,
absently watching the remaining liquid circle around the bottom,
hardly paying attention to the last few things Nick had said.
Procedure had called for multiple tellings of the tale, a different
person listening, sensing, and asking questions each time. In an
ongoing case with intense involvement, such as the one they now
found themselves in, the Questioning was mandatory. Caren had
listened in first, then Farraway, then the two of them with Poe as
well. This fourth time was enough for anyone to suffer through
without needing a soulhealer afterwards. He'd seen the beginning of
the attack via the squad car cameras, and he’d seen the bloody
aftermath courtesy of the Special Forces footage. He'd also heard
Sheila's version twice already. He doubted there was much else that
Nick or Sheila could have missed, given the situation.

“Are we almost done?” Nick muttered from
behind the hand that rubbed at his eyes. “I must have told you and
the Chief my story damn near enough times. Goddess…it doesn’t even
make sense to me anymore.”

A brief grin lifted Poe's face. “Yeah, we’re
about done.” He put down the coffee mug and reached his arms above
his head, weary muscles welcoming the stretch. He nodded at Nick's
mug. “You need a refill?”

“I'm good,” Nick said quickly, itching to
leave.

“Okay.” Poe flipped his notebook closed and
leaned back in his chair. “Do you have anything you want to add?
Comments? Questions?”

Nick delayed his answer, tapping at the
table with his fingers. “I’m sure I’m not the only one with a
theory here,” he said.

“The Eighth and now the Ninth?” Poe had been
expecting this from him; he was actually surprised it took so long
for him to bring it up.

Nick winced. “Yeah.”

“Well…” Poe exhaled long and slow. How many
times had he described that spiritual war? How many times would he
have to describe it again to another new recruit? And how many
times would the childhood memories of those days haunt him? He
exhaled again and leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped
tightly in front of him on the desk. In a fit of frustration, and
much to Nick’s surprise, Poe reached over and shut off the
Questioning recorders, monitors, data crystals and all. This was
information the ARU already knew, or at least was supposed to know
in more detail than anyone else…yet he never felt safe explaining
that fateful month while surrounded by recording equipment. Since
Nick had asked, however, he wasn’t going to hold back. He was
certainly old enough to remember the previous one, but Poe had a
feeling he’d never experienced it personally, not like he and Caren
had.

This was going to be tough.

“Speaking of the One…” he started again.
“First off, let me dispel any rumors that are surfacing. There’s no
way we’re facing another event of the same magnitude as the last
Embodiment, absolutely
no
way. That war lasted just over six
weeks, November spilling into December, but it was a perfect
shitstorm that nearly tore the city apart. A lot of identity theft
by jackers. Gang violence in McCleever and Waterfront, a hell of a
lot worse than it’s ever been. The economy was tanking before it
all happened, and the war made it even worse. A lot of scared
people…and kids…Goddess, a
lot
of kids. It wasn’t pretty. No
one was sure whether or not they were being spied upon by one side
or the other, including myself.

“The methodology behind it is what got me
into studying crime investigation. There are very few of us
profilers who have actually sat down and tried to see it from both
sides. I know of two. One ended up writing a book about it that no
one dared to publish for a decade and a half. The other man
committed suicide.”

“What about you?” Nick asked.

“That’s a good question,” he said. “About
ten years ago…I started getting interested in the history of the
Embodiments. I remembered it as a kid, I must have been eight at
the time — and it
changed
me. The fact that we had so-called
‘psionic warriors’ on Earth made absolutely no sense at all to us
humans at first. Hell, we were only the what — fourth or so
generation that had the Meraladians in their lives? But when this
happened…when we had people
dying
for no apparent reason
other than spiritual persecution…it made no sense at all to me. I
was pissed more than I was afraid, stupid as I was back then, but I
wanted to do something about it. So about ten years ago I began
studying on my off hours. Been doing it ever since.”

He took his pause in the conversation to
stand up, stretch and walk to the cooler to fill his mug. He downed
two full cups of cold water and exhaled deeply, shaking off the
tension. He glanced over at Nick, who looked as if he was trying to
form some thoughts in his head and having difficulty with it. He’d
get it sooner or later. The kid was smart enough.

“So anyway,” he continued. “Here we are.
Twenty-five years later. We get five timed attacks, played out by
the nuhm’ndah and orchestrated by the Shenaihu. All this as a
violent response to what may be the largest awakening ritual ever
performed on this good Earth. Shades of the Eighth Embodiment?
Possibly…but it’s not the same. That event was triggered by nothing
other than a mad craving for power that spiraled out of control. It
was a horrific war that shouldn’t have happened. This time out?
Well…I’m still not sure. These attacks…the ritual…this is something
altogether different.”

“How can you tell?” Nick frowned.

“Apples and oranges, my friend,” he smiled
wearily. “These recent events are just the prelude to something
bigger. The Ninth Embodiment is definitely here.”

Nick’s eyes widened. He might not be a
follower, but he certainly knew what the return of a messiah meant
in the grander scheme of things. “You’re kidding.”

“I can’t prove it otherwise.”

He was interrupted by a quick rapping at the
door, followed by Caren popping her head in. All humor had left her
quite some time ago.

“Hey,” she said. “Sorry to interrupt.
Farraway wants all of us up in the counseling office.”

Poe groaned. “Not another Questioning.”

Caren shook her head. “Kai and Ashan arrived
and they want to see us. All four of us.”

He glanced over at Nick before saying
anything. He had clasped his hands over his head and leaned back in
his chair, eyes closed. It could have been frustration, but more
than likely it was just plain exhaustion. “Don't look at me, Alec,”
he said, half-smiling. “I got me into this, not you.”

Poe smirked at his brashness and turned to
Caren. “We'll be up in fifteen.” She nodded and closed the door
again. “Right,” he said, slapping his palms against the table, the
Questioning process finally complete. “I'm up for another nicotine
break. Care to join me?”

Nick nodded. “Anywhere's better than
here.”

Nick tapped the security
code and slid open the glass doors to the seventh floor patio, and
was welcomed by a rush of cool early autumn wind. He exhaled
loudly. “Yeah...that's much better.” He stepped to the railing and
exhaled again, tension pouring out of him. “I don't know how you
can do it, Poe. Those interrogation rooms are just plain
fucking
hell
.”

Poe cupped his hand and
lit a cigarette. “Just like anything else, Nick. You do it long
enough it becomes just another part of the job.” Reacting to Nick's
frown, he appended his words as he handed him the pack. “Trust me,
kid. Things are too
chufyo
around here to ever get dull. Not a day goes by I
don't find myself baffled by Meraladian logic.”

“They're not very easy to pin down, are
they?” Nick said, lighting his own cigarette.

Poe joined him at the railing. “It's not so
much about 'pinning them down' as it is in understanding their
flow. You gotta think like them in order to know what they're going
on about. How this world manages to understand them at all is a
bleeding miracle.”

“I see,” Nick said, and began waving his
hands as he spoke. “That's where the Spirit comes in. They converse
more in Spirit than they do in this reality.”

Poe smirked.
This kid's as green as the
Wilderlands.

“Err...close, but not
quite. It's not so much conversing as
sensing
. Take the weather, for
instance. By just picking up what you see and feel, what would you
say it's going to do, best guess?”