Meridian Page 4

"That's enough."' Auntie's voice held a lilt of age and steel. "Hello, little one. Are you feeling more like yourself?" She briskly took my face in her hands, peering up into my eyes. I hadn't noticed how short she was earlier.

  "I guess." I hadn't the first clue how to answer that question.

  "You'll be hungry. Sit."

  My mind turned to the candles burning unattended on the tree in the parlor. My mother was adamant that candles were for emergencies only, never to be left unattended. I couldn't handle fire casually because I didn't know anyone who did. "Are you sure we shouldn't blow out the candles?"

  "Pooh, that's a fresh tree. They won't be burning down this house tonight. It's Christmas Eve, child. It's tradition." Auntie grinned and brushed my hair back.

  "Oh." Christmas Eve. How fast things changed. I wondered where my parents were and what Sam was doing tonight. He used to sneak into my room to try to stay awake to see Santa. What would he do tonight? Would he try to stay up? Would he miss me? I didn't know what he'd asked Santa for. Had he not told me or had I simply not listened?

  Auntie shooed me to a seat at an old mahogany farm table and placed a thick slab of bread in front of me. She slathered on the butter as if I were an invalid. "I can do it." I reached for the knife.

  She handed it to me. "Of course, of course. You gave us such a fright."

  "Sorry." I felt like the apology was expected.

  "You have questions, I know." Auntie spooned thick brown stew into a crockery bowl.

  "Yep, she looks like a war refugee," Tens piped up from the background.

  Great, I look that bad? Why did I care? I shot him a glare I hoped he felt like a slap.

  "There'll be Christmas cookies for dessert if you like. Dig in. We ate earlier. Tens, pour me tea, please, and grab a grape soda for Meridian."

  I glanced up with a questioning look. How did she know I liked grape soda?

  "We all do, dear." She patted my hand and stirred four heaping spoonfuls of sugar into a mug that held a concoction that appeared more like licorice pudding than tea. "Tens, sit with us."

  He straddled a chair backward as if he wanted to put the back of the chair between us.

  I shoveled stew into my mouth, refusing to contemplate Tens's comment about Bambi. I chased it with a large bite of the best-tasting bread I'd ever had in my life. I was nearly finished lapping up the last of the broth when I realized they were both gawking at me like they'd never seen anyone eat. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been that hungry, nor that mannerless. "Sorry." I abruptly stopped and inhaled.

  "I'm glad it tasted good to you. You've had a long journey, one that'll be longer yet." Auntie sipped her tea, but didn't offer any explanation.

  I couldn't hold back any longer. "What am I doing here? Who are you? I mean. I know you're my great-aunt, my namesake, but I've never met you. What is happening to me? Why did my parents toss me in a cab and make me trek across the country to some godforsaken castle in the middle of freakin' nowhere and then you"—I paused long enough to point a finger at Tens—"make nasty comments and stare at me all woogy eyed and smirky and you"— swinging my attention back to Auntie—"act like I'm just here visiting on holiday and you"—focusing on Custos, who had been asleep on the floor by the kitchen sink—"nearly kill me in the blizzard and then decide we're friends. We're not friends."

  Chapter 7

  I continued, unable to stave off the flow of questions. "Where are my parents and when do I get to see them again? And what the hell is a Fenestra? I don't want to be one. I don't want to have anything to do with it." I pushed back my chair and leaned against the table, then swung back to Tens. "And if you're not nicer to me I'll just wiggle my eyebrows or purse my lips or whatever the hell I do to kill everything around me and then you'll be dead. And then we'll see who gets the last laugh."I deflated, flopping back down into my chair, exhausted and not just a little mortified.

  Tens had the audacity to smile at me like I'd made him the prince of Egypt I growled. I actually growled like a damn dog. "I told you I should have gone to Portland to get her," he said to Auntie. "We teens don't do what we're told anymore—we expect an explanation."

  Auntie nodded at him, unruffled. "Perhaps. Well, I see we've got work to do. I do so love this time of year. Tens, get Meridian some of that cocoa and bring another cup of tea for me into the parlor, please. It'll be a long night. Come along, dear child, and let's see if I can't unravel some of that thread that's knotted in your brain."

  Auntie had a surprisingly strong grip as she tugged on my elbow.

  Custos scratched at the kitchen door and Auntie opened it for her absently while she muttered, "Where to start, where to start? Send her to me completely unaware? What in Gabriel's legacy were they thinking? Have they told you nothing? This is the information age, for Creator's sake."

  She positioned me by the fire and tucked one of the numberless quilts around my shoulders. The food kicked in; I finally felt more like a human being and less like a bitchy zombie.

  "Where do I start? I've never done this before. Never had to." She seemed frail. For a moment it was as if all the life left in her diminished into that one question.

  I wasn't feeling nice, but I was tired of being angry. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

  Auntie lowered herself into a rocking chair and set a soothing, slow rhythm with her feet. "What do you know of your history? Religion? Politics?”

  What a question. School? What does school have to do with this? "I'm a good student. I've paid attention, I guess, I get it."

  "Hmmm. And did you never wonder why dead things accumulated in your presence?"

  "She just thought she was a freak." Tens handed me a mug. He was too perceptive for comfort. "Right?"

  I scooted deeper into the couch and quilt. "Don't I ..." I swallowed, but forced out the question. "... kill them?"

  "No! No!" Auntie leapt up, almost spilling her drink. "Your mother, I could spank her. How could she let you think that?"

  "I never asked."' But yeah, I'd wondered that too. Weren't my deathly skills a rather huge elephant to ignore?

  "Do you know the law of conservation of energy?" she asked.

  "Energy cannot be created or destroyed, but can change its form?" '

  "Exactly." I had pleased her with my answer. "Do you understand that hot air rises and cool air sinks?"

  "I guess." Color me crazy, but this sounded a hell of a lot like a couple of science lectures I'd already heard.

  She pursed her lips, "Have you ever examined a dead thing?"

  "I've seen plenty."

  "Yes, but have you studied them? Really examined them? The thing that makes life, that breathes substance into a form is energy. When that body—be it animal or human—when that shell, that carcass dies, the energy in it rises like heat."

  She paused as if waiting for me to make an acknowledgment.

  "You are not death. You do not bring death, you do not control it, you cannot change the destiny of that fate. You could administer lifesaving measures like CPR, but if that soul is ready to rise, then nothing you, or I, can do will stop it."

  "If I'm not death, than what am I?"

  "You're a Fenestra, a window. An open attic window, in the tallest of houses, for the transition of life energy into the purest, best world possible."

  "You're a door to paradise—the afterlife—Supergirl." Tens tossed a handful of mixed nuts into his mouth and chomped down. I hated how calm he appeared.

  "Right." Thinking he was messing with me, I let sarcasm color my tone.

  Auntie smiled at me. "You don't believe."

  I shrugged. "It's the best definition I've gotten yet, but I mean really, would you believe you?"

  "Probably not." Tens shrugged.

  "Why haven't I heard about Fenestras?" I asked.

  "Because people don't live to talk about them?" Tens grabbed another handful of nuts.

  I rolled my eyes at him.

  Auntie picked through the nuts and collected a ha
ndful of cashews. "We're protected. By the Creators. By a special group called Protectors."

  "Uh-huh, and am I human, or from Mars?"

  Auntie giggled like a schoolgirl. "Mars?"

  "You're from Venus, Supergirl, or haven't you heard?" Tens tossed out.

  "Shut up," I snapped. "Just stop teasing me."

  He quirked a brow at me, but fell silent.

  "Life all started in the same place, with the same Creator."

  "God?"

  Auntie smiled at me. "There are many names, from many cultures and traditions. Though the names are almost infinite in number, none of them truly call the Creator or Creators by their full being."

  I rubbed my temples. "Now you're sounding like a fortune cookie."

  "Religion isn't what we're about. It's bigger than the human idea of rituals. We're created to help souls move on to what Buddhists call enlightenment, what Christians call heaven, and so on."

  "Everything is about religion." This I knew from world history. Wars, genocides—they all led back to beliefs and man's intolerance for his own organized religion.

  "That may be, but Fenestras are not affiliated with a specific branch of belief. Neither are the Protectors, though human aids are often very spiritual people. Nor are the Aternocti, for that matter, but they come from the Destroyers' side."

  "But people will hate you anyway," Tens said with a scowl.

  I wanted to ask what he meant, but his face was so closed, so shuttered I didn't dare. "Where did they come from?"

  "We came from a blending of angel and human DNA," Auntie said.

  "Huh?"

  "Sangre angels used to do the work, used to be there for every transition, but as the population of humans grew there weren't enough of them to keep up. Plus, they were needed for other things—to keep the balance."

  "But you said energy doesn't change."

  "It changes forms, but never disappears or appears. If a being dies without a Fenestra or an Aternocti present, it circles again."

  "Reincarnation?"

  "Yes."

  "What are the Aterwhats?" I was beginning to feel as if I were trapped in a Star Wars movie.

  "That's another discussion, but they carry souls into the lightless place."

  "Hell," Tens tossed at me.

  Auntie shrugged in agreement. "To a transitional soul, you appear as light. A bright white tunnel."

  "Don't tell me the 'go to the light' thing someone always says to dying people in movies is accurate." I was trapped in a Lifetime special.

  "In a way. To the living world, you appear human.

  Except for a few little things, we live our lives as most of humanity lives theirs."'

  "What little things?"

  "You'll begin to see your light out of your peripheral vision, and there are humans who can see it as well."

  "Now I'm a glowworm?"' I shook my head. "What else?"

  "Do you have any photographs from your childhood?" Even though Auntie had asked the question, she clearly already knew the answer.

  I thought about it. I didn't. Something always happened to the film, or we had plans when class photos were being taken. I couldn't think of a single photograph I was present in. "No."

  "That's one of the little things."

  "Speaking of family photos, why the cloak-and-dagger journey to the middle of nowhere? Where are my parents?" I glanced between Auntie and Tens, their faces a study of secrets and stubbornness.

  The silence stretched.

  I repeated my question. "Where is my family? Who is after us?"

  "They're not after your parents," Tens replied. "Just you. The Aternocti hunt Fenestras before they've reached their full power. Did you move a lot as a kid?"

  "Yeah. Dad kept changing jobs."

  Tens shook his head. "Maybe, but it was mainly so they'd keep you alive until you turned sixteen."

  "Are you kidding me?"

  "No, sorry. They moved again right after you left the house. That car crash wasn't an accident. Meridian. The best way to kill a Fenestra is to make a human soul try to pass through her before she's ready."

  Did the teenagers in the crash die because of me? "What happens?" Did I want to know?

  Auntie jumped in. "There are things you must know. Methods of coping that you can only learn from another Fenestra. When you turned sixteen, the window opened fully—at that moment human souls needing to pass over began to sense you. Before then, your window was only a crack that insects and small animals squeezed through."

  "What if I don't want to be one?" I asked.

  "You are one."

  "But what if I close the window or put a sign out that says 'Go somewhere else'?"

  "You'll die."

  "Excuse me?"

  "You'll die. It's really quite simple. Either you learn to do what you were born for or you'll be sucked through when the right soul passes through you. There's a third option. ..."

  I stopped breathing for a stuttering second. I couldn't possibly have heard correctly. "Die?"

  "Auntie." Tens's voice was sharp and commanding.

  "What's the third option?" I asked.

  Auntie let Tens answer. "You figure out how to be a Fenestra or you'll be towed through." He stared me down.

  "Yes, dear, it's rather simple." Auntie patted my hand like she'd just told me I couldn't have more candy. "I'm quite sleepy all of a sudden."

  Tens jumped up, rushing to cover Auntie with one of her quilts and raise her feet to an ottoman. The concern on his face seemed disproportionate to an old lady's feeling tired.

  "Shoo." She batted his hands away. "Take Meridian and give her a tour. Go for a walk. I'll be fine. Tens. It's not time yet."

  "Time?" I asked, but no one answered me. I couldn't quite get past "you'll die."

  Chapter 8

  Tens was about as talkative as dirt as we walked around the drafty rooms. I peeked at him from beneath my eyelashes, trying to figure out his deal. "So ...," I said, trying to fill the awkward space. "Are you—"

  "Nope."

  I nodded. "A cousin?"

  "Nope."

  "And she's not insane?"

  "Nope."

  "Do you have something against me?"

  "No—"

  "—ope," I finished for him, grabbing his forearm to stop him. I gazed at Tens, trying to decipher whether he was friend or foe. Then a thought wiggled behind my eyes. "How did you know about the car crash that happened right before I came here? Did my parents call?"

  He sighed. "I could tell you that your parents called to say you were on your way."

  "But?" My instincts screamed I might not like the answer, but I needed to know it.

  "How strong are you, Supergirl?"

  Not very. "Enough." I answered.

  "I know things. Before they happen. Even when they happen somewhere far away. I just know them."

  "How?"

  He licked his lips and crossed his arms. I could tell he was trying to decide how much to say.

  "Do you read minds? Do you know what I'm thinking?" Heat stole across my face.

  He smiled at me. "It'd be fun to tell you I could, but no. It's not like that."

  I let a huge wave of relief sweep over me. "Oh. So then, what?"

  "Dreams. Feelings." He opened French doors and pointed down a long hallway. "This wing is unused. We usually keep these doors closed because of the heating. There are probably critters living in it I'd stay out."

  "Okay. What about your—" I had to jog to keep up with his long-legged sprint. Clearly, he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

  "Up this staircase is another bunch of rooms. Again, don't go up there—"

  "You're not going to fully answer me, are you?"

  "In here is the gallery; that's the library/study Back here is the kitchen." He went upstairs and downstairs and through hallways so quickly, I spent more time watching my feet than thinking about his evasion. "Up that staircase and down the hallway is your bedroom. Auntie's is al
most directly below yours on the second floor. Mine is back there." He pointed in a general direction as if he didn't want me to know where to find him.

  "So then, what—"

  Abruptly, we were back in the kitchen. Sweat beaded my forehead and my legs ached.

  Tens turned away from me. "There's a ton of stuff I have to do, okay?"

  "I'll help." I wanted to drag an explanation out of him.

  "You wash dishes?"

  "Sure." I thought maybe I'd wash and he'd dry and we'd have time to talk things through. But less than ten minutes later I found myself alone, wearing yellow rubber gloves, staring at a pile of food-caked pots and pans.

  Custos whined at my elbow.

  "I don't think he wants to talk, do you?" I asked her as she sat and leaned into me. By the time the kitchen was clean, my back ached and my head throbbed. I got a bowl of cookies and a glass of milk to carry up to my room. I tossed a cookie to Custos, and she caught it in midair with a smile. Despite the tour, I got lost trying to find the bedroom I'd slept in. When I finally found it. I picked at the piles of clothes, feeling homesick, missing my family. I held a sweater to my nose and inhaled, but I couldn't even smell home anymore.

  What the hell was happening to me?

  How would I ever find them again?

  Was I allowed to?

  * * *

  I slept without dreaming for the first time in ages. "Merry Christmas. Where's Auntie?" I yawned, wandering back into the kitchen. I finally felt human. Although, was I human?

  "Sleep okay. Supergirl? You're chipper for a Christmas without Santa." Tens used tongs to flip over the bacon sizzling on the stove. He looked domestic. I expected him to think cooking was beneath him, but he seemed very much at home.

  "So, where is Auntie?" I asked.

  "Out."

  I sat at the table and studied him. He paid no attention to me. I could have been invisible.

  "Do you like it here?"

  "It's fine." he muttered.

  I let silence expand between us until I couldn't tolerate it anymore. "Why don't you look at me?"

  "Ego much?" he asked, not turning.

  "I don't mean I'm gorgeous, but you avoid me. It's not contagious." I stopped, temporarily flummoxed by the idea. "Oh my God, is it contagious?" The shock in my voice most have distressed Tens, because he came and sat next to me.