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  She headed straight for the bedroom, making introductions on the move. She'd been in this house many times, "Hello! Jasper, this is my niece, Meridian. She's one of us."

  I hesitated in the bedroom doorway, letting my heart adjust to the fear. Why did an old man frighten me?

  I jumped as a voice spoke from behind me. "My granddaddy Jasper is one of the last living World War Two veterans. A B-17 gunner, there on D-Day storming the beaches with his friends. Couldn't get through introductions without mentioning that." A woman with long braids and a peasant skirt moved into the room and took a place opposite Auntie. "Hello, Auntie, it's nice to see you again." She smiled. The scent of patchouli and pine floated like a cloud behind her.

  "Sarah, it's been too long." Auntie touched her arm across the quilt-draped form. The idea of an Army man reduced to this small frame was incongruent.

  "He's barely hanging on. Auntie. There's not much left of him here. It said in his papers to call you when it was time."

  "Your granddaddy and I go way back. He was always so proud of you moving to New York and making something of yourself."

  Sarah laughed and then sipped from her mug. "He did love to brag, now, didn't he?"

  Auntie motioned to me. I slowly stepped to the side of the bed. "This is my niece, Meridian. I made this quilt when your grandmother died, Sarah."

  Jasper's eyelids didn't flutter, and his breathing had a rhythmic, automated cadence, though he wasn't hooked up to anything.

  Auntie grasped my hand. Hers felt as if I were clutching the full blazing sun in my palm. So hot, and mine so cold. "You have anything else to say Sarah?"

  Sarah stood and put her mug down. "He knows. It's been said."

  "Well then. Meridian, I want you to close your eyes and picture that window. You're going to do this by yourself." Auntie gripped my hand "I'm losing my strength to shield you."

  I shot a glance at Sarah, not sure how she'd react. "I'm a clairvoyant," she said with a shrug. "You're not going to shock me."

  I nodded, not trusting my voice, and closed my eyes. I squeezed them too tight and got those rainbow-colored blobs and sparks behind my eyelids.

  "Relax," Auntie cautioned me. "Breathe."

  I tried to relax my shoulders and force oxygen into my uncooperative lungs.

  "Now, picture that window. You got it?" she asked.

  I nodded. I visualized a big window, white lace curtains framing the glass like snow.

  "Now open it. Let the wind roar through. What's outside that window?"

  I kept my eyes closed and leaned toward it.

  "Not too far. You stay on this side of it, you hear me?" Auntie's voice brought me back from the urge to step through, the compulsion to keep going. "Tell me what you see, Meridian."

  "R-r-r—" I cleared my throat and tried again. "Red, lots of red flowers."

  "Are they poppies?" Sarah asked.

  In that moment I knew they were the red poppies of Flanders Fields, though how I knew that, I couldn't say. "Yes." I felt someone standing at my back.

  "That's good. Now you have to step aside." Auntie said. "Move out of Jasper's way—stand clear of the window and of him."

  I turned around, trying to move out of the way. I felt tangled up, like I was playing Twister with a bunch of invisible beings. "I can't." I started to move toward the window again. My arms started to ache and a headache lanced my temples. In the background, I heard Auntie's voice. I was back in the bathtub, holding my breath and then gasping for air.

  "Yes, you can. Step aside like you're in line for a movie and you haven't bought your ticket yet. There are people going around you, but you're still in line. Right? Can you see that? You hold your ground. You are strong."

  "Yes. Yes." I felt myself move to the side. I could see the poppies, but now I saw the room, my yellow room with the daisy throw rug and white four-poster bed. Jasper turned from the window to face me.

  "Thank you. Tell your Auntie I owe her one." Jasper touched my cheek the littlest bit and stepped over the sill into the poppies. There was movement in the meadow and I could see people coming toward him.

  I felt like I was swimming against an undertow. Part of me wanted to go with him.

  Keep going.

  It was so beautiful and so peaceful. So bright.

  I didn't know the people, didn't need to—I felt the immense joy. A blinding, overwhelming need wracked my body with spasms.

  Chapter 22

  There was a loud crack and I jumped, my eyes open wide, back into Jasper's bedroom. I gripped Auntie's hand.

  "I closed the window for you. You almost made it on your own." Auntie patted my cheek. "How do you feel?"

  I gaped, surprised to be back in my body. It was odd to feel the heavy sensation of arms and legs again. My headache faded, but didn't disappear. My stomach flipped, but I didn't think I'd vomit. My bones hurt considerably, but that, too, was a passing feeling.

  "Are you okay?" Sarah moved around the bed to stand by me.

  "I think ... I'll be fine." I couldn't keep the surprise out of my voice. "He said he owed you one. Auntie."

  Sarah wiped tears away. "I won't ask how you knew that, but I'm sure he'll come through."

  I turned to her, feeling a desperate need to share. "There were people. He was happy."

  "Thank you." She hugged me. "I'm sure most people are unsure of your gifts, but thank you. You made it easy on him."'

  I guess that's the gist of it, isn't it? Most people are afraid. But are they freaked out by me or by death itself?

  "It's death, not you. They don't even really see you, they're so caught up in the fear of dying."' Sarah said.

  I looked at her. "Did I say that out loud?"

  "No."' She smiled. "Do you want tea or hot chocolate before you head back out?"

  "No, thank you, Sarah. Meridian needs a nap. I think."' Auntie laughed. "Or I do!"

  "I'll be here another couple of weeks settling his affairs—you call me if you need anything." Sarah dug around in her purse and handed me a business card, "You call me if you're ever in New York and need a place to crash. It's not much, but it's home and it's yours."

  "Thanks." I tucked the card in my back pocket and returned her smile. I could see myself as friends with her, even though she was in her thirties and had the polished veneer of a New Yorker despite her designer hippie accessories.

  Auntie handed me the car keys. "Drive it slow and we'll be fine."

  I wanted to argue with her. But she had a gray tinge to her cheeks and her lips were stained a severe blue. I closed my mouth and said a prayer that we'd make it home in one piece.

  I drove the whole way back at five miles per hour, but I didn't hit anything and we stayed on the road. Auntie's snores were the only sound track for the ride. Once home, I peeled my fingers off the steering wheel and took my first big breath since we'd gotten in the car. "Do we have any licorice?"

  "Maybe in the pantry. You got a craving for it?" Auntie paused as she unbuckled her seat belt.

  "Yeah, a black licorice and honey sandwich, actually."

  "Jasper's favorite?"

  I thought about it and nodded. "From his childhood. It sounds disgusting. I totally have to try it."

  I held on to Auntie's elbow as we walked up the steps. Custos greeted us with a whine and a quick lick of my hand.

  "You should know you'll want to be trying lots of stuff once you get a buildup of memories. I remember a night when I drank whiskey straight from the bottle because one guy said it tasted different in a glass—I don't remember his name but I know that's what he got out of life."

  I giggled as we stamped our boots and started peeling off the layers. "Did it taste different?"

  "No." Auntie swayed and I caught her.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Tired, I guess."

  "Are you sure? Do you need a doctor?"

  "Not right now. I'll swallow a couple of aspirin and see how I feel."

  I could tell there was something more she was
n't saying. "But—"

  "No."

  "I could call—"

  "Stop. Don't fuss." She held up a hand, then rubbed her eyes.

  I didn't push, but I wasn't happy about it.

  Auntie made her way to the parlor and settled down on the sofa.

  "I'll make you tea, okay?"

  "Two lumps and a bit of milk," she said, her eyes closed.

  I poked around the pantry while the water boiled, but couldn't find any black licorice. What if I called an ambulance? What if I asked Tens to carry her to the car? Could I force her to use medicine? What if I'm not okay just letting her be?

  The outside door slammed and heavy boots stomped to the kitchen door. The old screened-in porch wasn't much more than a mudroom in the wintertime.

  I waited in the kitchen doorway and studied Tens as he unlaced his boots and pried his feet out of them. I wondered at the giddy, joyful feeling at the base of my spine. Did I love him? Could I love him? What other name could I give this feeling of fever and itch?

  His was the face of a statue, all angles and planes, as if he'd never had enough to eat. His hands—how was it possible to be so captivated by something I saw every day? I'd never paid attention to hands before, but his drew my eyes. I wondered what they'd feel like holding me, if he'd be as gentle with me as he was with Custos.

  "You done yet or do you need a few more minutes?" Tens asked, not glancing up.

  I cleared my throat and moved toward the teakettle. "Oh, there you are." Brilliant.

  "Here I am." Tens smiled at me and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. I could feel the weight of his scrutiny on my back.

  "Where were you?" I asked,

  "Out and about. You do okay?"

  "Yeah, actually. I couldn't do it by myself, but I'm getting better." The kettle whistled and I sprang into action like this was more important than just making tea.

  "Any pain?"

  "Nothing that hung around long." I made him hot chocolate and placed it in front of him.

  "Thanks." He brushed my arm and sent zings up it.

  I nodded, moving away and dunking the tea bags absently.

  "I think that tea is done."

  I blinked down at tea that could very well have held up its own bag. "I like it like that." I dug out two sugar cubes and splashed in milk for Auntie. "Where did you say you were?"

  "Around."

  I glanced at his shuttered expression and dropped it. Maybe he was dating someone. That would top it off, falling in love with a guy who loved someone else. "I should take the tea to Auntie." I picked up the cup and saucer.

  "Let her sleep." Tens reached out and stopped me. I slopped tea onto the floor.

  "Crap." I set the cup down and grabbed a towel. Always graceful, that's me.

  "Don't worry about it. Auntie's been having a hard time sleeping; she's walking around at night. She's very worried about leaving us to face the Nocti alone. I don't think we should wake her. That's all." Clearly, Tens thought I was upset by his suggestion, not about making a mess in front of him.

  "Once I can do it, won't they leave us alone?" I tossed the towel into the laundry room and sat down.

  "I don't know. You're really going to drink that?" Tens nodded to my tea.

  It was such a dark brown it seemed black. "Of course." I sipped and tried to keep my expression bland.

  He chuckled but didn't say anything. He had this way of answering questions without actually saying anything. I always ended up confused about what I had asked in the first place. Was it his presence that messed me up or something else?

  I needed to change the conversation. "By the way, how did you get here?"

  "I walked. You guys had the car."

  I had a feeling he was deliberately interpreting my question literally. "Not today. I meant, in the beginning, how did you find Auntie?"

  Tens set down his mug and spun it on the tabletop. I had just decided he wasn't going to answer me when he said, "My grandfather."' He drew in a pained breath and continued. "I was twelve when he died. They put me in foster care. I ran away a couple of times before I didn't get caught and sent back. I wasn't real bright about hiding."

  "You were a kid."

  "Maybe. Maybe not. At fourteen, with a broken lip and a couple of busted ribs, I finally got smart about what to fear."

  "You were beaten on the streets?"

  "No, the monster was in the nice, safe house, not out on the streets. Nobody cared. Nobody asked me why I was always covered in bruises. They just saw this nice middle-class white family who accepted foster kids no one else wanted."

  I swallowed. "You left, right?"

  He nodded. "Stole some cash. Started walking."

  "Where were you?"

  "Seattle."

  My jaw dropped. "That's a long walk. Why come here?"

  "Tyee had told me to. He told me if I was ever in trouble to come here and ask for Auntie or Charles. He said my destiny was tied up in a war of people and light. To protect them. There was more, but we ran out of time."

  "So you walked here?"

  "I hitched rides, stole wallets, worked odd jobs where I could. I got here about two years later. I lived off the land mostly. Tyee had taught me well. Made me memorize which plants could be eaten, and learn how to make a fire with nothing but wet wood. How to keep warm. He talked to me in my dreams. Told me what I needed to know to stay hidden."

  "You still see him?"

  His voice turned sad. "No, he stopped coming to me the day I set foot on this front porch. Then I started dreaming of ..." He trailed off.

  I didn't want the conversation to end. "You miss him? Never mind, stupid question. I miss my family and they're not dead."

  For a few seconds, we listened to the creaks of the old house and the wind in the trees.

  "You're not afraid of being around me?" I asked Tens.

  "Why would I be?"

  "People die around me." Okay, stating the obvious here.

  "I'm not scared. Although you did just massacre a perfectly good cup of tea."

  I crossed my arms over my chest. "You're not afraid of Auntie, either."'

  "She's pretty feisty. Maybe she was a serial criminal in her youth." Tens stood and walked over to me. He peered down at me.

  "I'm serious." I rolled my eyes, hoping just once he'd take me seriously and not make me feel stupid.

  "So am I." He shrugged, prying profoundly into me with his eyes, as if measuring my ability to handle a truth. "I saw you when I was little, before my grandfather died. And after. You're who replaced him. In my dreams."

  "Huh?" This was not what I expected to hear.

  "He'd told me to think about what my life as a man would be. He always tried to get me to grow up faster than I wanted. Preparing me, testing me. Making sure I was ready for you."

  I got stuck on the dreaming-of-me part. "You saw me in your dreams?"

  "Mmm-hmm. You were playing in a fort in your backyard. You'd poked dandelions in your hair and were making up stories."

  I'd always liked my make-believe world more than the real one because there was no death.

  "There was a terrible commotion, a howling."

  I knew what was coming next. "The mama cat, right?"

  He nodded. "She crawled into your fort, birthed two kittens at your feet, and died."

  Tears flooded my eyes. "The kittens were dead too. She'd been an alley cat. She didn't belong to anyone. After Dad buried her, I never went back to the fort. I thought it was haunted."

  "I didn't understand it at the time, but when I woke I asked my grandfather about it."

  "And he said?"

  "Nothing. Not a thing. I couldn't get him to explain the dream at all. He just shook his head and smiled at me."

  "Oh." Disappointed. I bit my lip and blinked at the cracked tiles on the kitchen floor.

  "Where's that tea, my girl?" Auntie shuffled into the kitchen seeming even more fragile.

  Tens tugged a chair out for Auntie. "You seem ready t
o fall over."

  "Your grandfather ever tell you about his time in the army?" she asked wistfully before a cough wracked her.

  "We need to get you into bed." Tens and I exchanged a glance.

  "Hmm, the army, that's how we met—" A loud thump on the porch startled all of us, but it was the animal whimpering that followed that had Tens grabbing the shotgun and wrenching open the front door.

  Chapter 23

  Beware of the Aternocti—they changed my sisters forever. I do not know how, but two Fenestra I used to know as well as myself are now walking with the Destroyer as Nocti.

  —Luca Lenci, b. 1750-d. 1858

  “No, no, no, no, no!" I slipped on the ice and snow Custos had dragged onto the porch with her.

  "Careful, Meridian. We don't know if she trusts us right now." I leaned over the injured wolf. "You trust me, don't you, girl?"' A low rumble in her belly was her only response. "Careful.” Tens kept his voice even and made slow, careful progress over to us. "Easy."

  Custos whimpered and lay down on her good side, giving us a clear view of her injury. An arrow, the same kind that had accompanied the dead cat, was lodged in the meaty part of her left shoulder. She panted up at me expectantly.

  I swallowed a gag. I'm not good with blood. Funny, you'd think being okay with gore would be part of the Fenestra job description.

  "That's good." Tens walked wide around us to make sure no one waited nearby.

  I reached out and laid the tips of my fingers against Custos's toenails. Just enough to touch, but not more than she could handle. "Why? Why would they do this?" She lifted her head and licked my hand, trying to nudge me closer.

  Tens inspected her side, soothing her with his fingertips. "I don't think it's that bad a wound. The arrow's stuck in her skin and fur, but it's running the length of her body, not puncturing any organs. Let's see if she'll go inside and then we'll clean her up. She should be okay."

  "I'm not a vet—are you a vet?"

  "The only vet in Revelation left when the believers gained a majority; we're the best she's got."

  Why didn't that surprise me?

  Custos lifted herself to her feet, keeping her weight off the left front leg as best she could. She panted hard, her tongue lolling out of her mouth, in between boundless sighs. The crude oil of clotting blood matted her coat and dripped as she hopped toward the door.