Chasing Shadow (Shadow Puppeteer) (21 page)

One of the first pictures I came across had the caption: Neil Armstrong 1969 first man on the moon. I never knew we had that technology.

The next chapter was on airplanes. It was another technology I didn’t know we had. The thought of flying excited me. Where did all these artifacts go? They weren’t in museums. Boats were getting us around, not airplanes. No one talked about Neil Armstrong.

I collected the books off the floor and stacked them neatly on the dresser before stretching the kinks from my body. No amount of stretching was going to ease the pain in my shoulders and lower back. There was a great deal of pressure in my face after getting knocked face first into a wall and my hand was so sore I gave up making a fist.

In the quiet of the room, my thoughts hung dangerously close to dread and self-pity. There wasn’t time for self pity when Katrina needed me to watch D. I pressed the tears from my eyes and shoved the door open.

I decided last night that it couldn’t be D who climbed the asylum wall. He wasn’t all there. Maybe Jose was Diablo?

The apartment buzzed with life. Everyone was awake. I felt their energy as I closed the bathroom door behind me.

To my delight and surprise, there was very little swelling in my nose. Even the bruising under my eyes was lighter in color. The bulb did little for my skin, which looked paler than normal, but not as pale as my porcelain left forearm. I kept my focus away from the scar at the edge of my eye. Without makeup, there was no reason to get obsessed about it.

Fresh teeth and a refreshed body, I combed my fingers through the knots in my hair where I fell asleep with it damp. Somewhat ready for the day, I pushed the door open and walked the short hallway into the living room. Even with pure sunlight streaming in through holes in the boarded up windows, the room was dreary.

“Don’t think too hard or you’ll get depressed,” Katrina said. She greeted me from the kitchen with a bowl of fruit in hand. “I left yours on the counter. I didn’t think you would want to eat the crap D likes.”

I glanced over at the couch where the back of a head could be seen, slouched against the cushions. At the mention of his name, D looked over his shoulder. The skin around his eye sockets were bruised, like he had gone days without sleeping. The cut over his eyebrow was gone and his lips were no longer split.

His eyes were a bright youthful gray, almost lavender, though slightly clouded. The young man was addicted to something. His smile was warm, but what I really loved was the way his blond hair cupped his face. He had the blithe presence of a surfer, though he wasn’t tanned. I opened myself up to him and his energy made him feel a little less solid than everyone else. Something was definitely missing. His incompleteness left him vulnerable.

He turned back towards the television and I headed into the kitchen. The fruit bowl was where she promised it to be. I grabbed it before joining them in the living room.

“I pulled a few items from my closet that I can’t fit in any more. You can change before you go out later,” Katrina said.

I nodded my thanks while popping a grape in my mouth. Both our bowls were lacking, which meant I was going to stay hungry this morning. She jumped up from the couch, leaving me alone with D.

His cereal looked really good, but was no doubt solid sugar. He gave me a shy glance before his attention went back to the television. Timidly, he pushed a blond curl behind his ear. He was malnourished, but it sounded like everyone on Xyla was.

“What does D stand for?” I asked.

He blushed and looked down, freeing that small blond curl.

“Started as Street Sweeper, then Double S and now, just D,” he said. Despite how relaxed he appeared, he jiggled his right foot.

I wondered why he didn’t call himself by his real name.

“I do not remember,” he said.

I sat a little straighter. D was completely focused on the television, unaware he left me slack jawed. Had he just read my thoughts?

“It’s impossible holding a conversation with him when these century old cartoons are running. I wonder who still broadcasts them,” Katrina said as she reentered the room with a bunch of clothes.

She dumped her load on the couch. I was torn between female curiosity over the clothing and childish curiosity for the cartoon.

“What language is that?” I asked.

“Japanese. D knows it, I don’t speak it,” Katrina said. D grunted and Katrina looked down at him with knitted brows. Despite her act, she was obviously very proud of him. “He wants you to know that he speaks a great deal of languages. He’s smarter than all of us.”

That last was said with a teasing air. I glanced back at D, who was smiling at the television. He might be difficult to talk to during these shows, but clearly, he was listening.

“Where are you both from?” I asked. The question sounded rude, but I was too curious not to ask.

“Russia,” she said. “And D too, though I didn’t met him until he was fourteen. Where he came from before that, I don’t know and after our master, he doesn’t remember that either. It is much better here on Xyla,” Katrina said.

I tried to understand. “So those scars?”

Katrina nodded and motioned for me to follow her to the kitchen, so I did. “Sometimes he comes off as suggestive. Don’t kiss him, don’t sleep with him and don’t let him get messed up.”

I was left stunned by that statement and watched as she went about her tasks.

Katrina bent over the couch. “Don’t touch anyone today, okay.”

“You say that all the time.” His accent was heavy in this playful banter.

“Because you do it all the time,” she said. Lowering her voice, she didn’t realize how keen my hearing was. “You can’t save everyone. We need you to stick around with us. The organization can’t do this without you.”

“Okay,” he said.

Through my empathy, I felt their combined ease. Katrina waved at me before leaving and D went back to fingering sugar bits into his mouth. I’d love to have his peacefulness, but not at the expense of having such a large part of myself missing.

I gathered the clothes and started towards the bedroom. It wasn’t until I reached the door, did I realize that D followed me.

“Wait here in the hall and when I’m dressed, we can go wherever you want,” I said.

He sat down in the hall, directly in front of my door. If it were anyone else, it would be creepy, but D was different.

There were so many textures to choose from, and none of them were cotton. I ran my hand over smooth black knee high pants and fell in love right away. The black and pink top I chose was nylon thin. The sleeves were decorative and ended high on my shoulder leaving the scars on my arms visible. Scars were a good thing on the island, it showed I wasn’t afraid.

Luckily there was an old black coat with sleeves that came down to the bend of the elbow that gave a little added warmth without hiding too much. It had breast pockets and a handful of pins stuck to it with witty sayings. It looked small, but when I pulled it on, it fit comfortably. I gave the air a few jabs, testing it for flexibility in a fight. It didn’t hinder my movements. Once dressed, I pulled the door open to find that D hadn’t moved from his spot.

He looked up at me with those gray-lavender eyes. “You shouldn’t be afraid of the dark.”

“Have you ever heard of playing your cards?” I asked. I wasn’t going to be shocked into silence twice this morning.

His smile was unarming. “I say too much? I would enjoy shopping.”

The change of subject threw me. I’d feel safer if Jose was with us for an outing, but I didn’t want to spend another minute cooped up in a building that could blow over in a strong wind. I grabbed the gun off my dresser and held it up.

“Does Katrina have any bullets?” It was a long shot, but I was willing to try.

“Here,” D said, waving for me to follow him into their bedroom.

Seeing the blueprints for the Ardent Asylum didn’t make me feel any better. D pushed open the closest door which wasn’t stuffed with usual knickknacks. There was artillery waiting to be equipped on fighters. He plopped himself on the ground and started digging through the bags at the bottom of the closest.

While he was busy digging, I looked at the top shelf. It was just as packed, but by the wall, I noticed a jar with liquid inside. Something small and puckered was floating inside. It looked purple, but it was hard to tell with the way the shadow hit it. My curiosity was getting the best of me. I reached over D to touch the glass.

Only after I had it in my hands did I realize that this wasn’t a weapon. It was something that should be attached to a person.

“Lubor,” D said.

His sadness pushed over me in waves. I replaced the jar on the shelf, vaguely understanding that this was all that was left of Lubor. I wanted to vomit, but I shoved the feeling down as D held up the bullets I needed and a shoulder sheath. He didn’t offer an explanation and I didn’t need one. Getting out of the room was enough.

Before I could turn tail and run, he caught my hand and ran his thumb over my palm. Power itched under my skin, but I didn’t pull away. I didn’t need too because he pulled away first.

“You are incomplete,” he said. He blinked at me and tapped the side of his head. “I am incomplete too. You must wake your third eye.”

“I hope you’re talking about something metaphysical,” I said. I already felt like a freak with the scars and now my alabaster left arm with dark rings. The last thing I needed was a third eye.

The minute I turned to leave, I felt it. Not a thing in me ached. D grunted as he stood.

Katrina’s warning echoed in my head.

Don’t touch anyone today, okay.

The hairs on my neck stood on end as D walked out of the room, expecting me to follow. I did at a slower pace, watching him. I didn’t understand the caliber of what he’d done for me, but I felt better than I had in weeks. Not only was the physical pain gone, but it felt like Sable’s death was less personal and that Starr’s betrayal happened to someone else. He was no longer projecting, which made it difficult to gauge how badly it was for him.

My pain was my burden. I didn’t need someone else carrying it for me.

“D—” I caught his arm before he walked out into the hallway. “What did you do back there?”

His smile was sad. “I cannot do more for you. You need to open your third eye.”

“That doesn’t make sense. I don’t know what a third eye is.”

“We are both incomplete,” he said.

T
he sunlight was reassuring, but winter was fast approaching. Even with the coat on, I was cold. The light did nothing to soften the city. It was prettier at night. Even the night people were more interesting.

With the blade at my back and the gun at my side, I still didn’t feel brave. I couldn’t tell if people were looking at me or trying to see who was under the hood of the person next to me. D’s coat was twice his size, which made it easy for him to hide. After last night, I didn’t doubt there were people he’d rather not run into. I wish I thought to wear a hood too. Sonya’s men could be anywhere.

“Where are we heading?” I asked.

“Temple,” D said.

The temple in question was all the way down our street and at the backside of the city, facing the forest. We had to cross the very narrow alleyway to get to the shack. The woods were a lot thicker on Xyla than back on Ardent. The tall trees left thick shadows that stretched over the small amount of barren land just behind the buildings.

Someone had taken a bunch of planks and haphazardly nailed together a small building with no windows. There were mini figurines stacked along shelves on both sides of the door and a great deal of flowers, vases and other small trinkets were left on the porch. From here, I could smell the musk from tons of incense. It made my nose burn.

I followed D until it was apparent that he was going inside. I caught his shoulder and he immediately stopped and patted my hand.

“It’s okay,” he said.

I let him go and he walked inside. There were sufficient candles burning inside to see by. I didn’t like the distance between us, so I walked up the steps. The air on the porch tickled, but it wasn’t enough to scare me away. There was something here. It wasn’t like the shadowy essence that beat alongside my heart.

There were only two pews in this small building so I took a seat by the doorway with my hand on the handle of my gun. The heat from the candles and the incense was trapped within the walls. It made breathing difficult, but I couldn’t leave.

D lit a stick of incense over a candle and brought it back to the large statue. Unlike the mini statues outside the door, this one was near six feet. With his stick cupped in his hands, he got on his knees and began to pray. This was new. The history books Jose gave me talked about religion, but there was no religion in the world I grew up in. World Congress made sure of that.

In the silence of the hut, I listened. He spoke his native tongue, but he repeated the words over and over. What was he begging for? He stayed in that position for what felt like hours.

I perked up when he placed the incense at the foot of the statue, bowed low and then rose. He looked dazed crossing the aisle. I moved over so he could sit.

“What’s Russia like?”

He shivered despite the trapped heat and all the clothes he was wearing. “Cold. Lonely.”

That’s how I felt on Ardent. His statement lead to more questions, but when he stood and pulled his hood over his head, I stood too.

“What’s it like inside the tower?” I asked.

“Cold,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. His smile was mischievous. “Lonely.”

“So cold and lonely follows you.”

He shrugged. I was right behind him. When he stopped, I bumped into his shoulder.

“What—”

There were two men and one woman waiting outside the door. I grabbed D’s shoulder and shoved him along. I didn’t want the hut impeding a quick getaway if these three meant trouble. With the way energy crackled around them, trouble was coming.

The man who separated himself from the small group was bald with a large tattoo that covered most of his head. He dropped his cigarette and grinded it into the earth with the heel of his boot. The other two stayed behind him with similar tattoos on their upper arms.