Em stood in the dark narrow alley waiting; shivered in spite of the tall boots and the long heavy coat she wore over her dress. She blew on her hands and shoved them into her pockets, found fuzzy pink mitts there and put them on. Who knew the desert could be this cold? She wrinkled her nose and breathed through her mouth to avoid the pungent odor of rotting food. She tried not to think of the rats and mice and most of all the cockroaches she could hear scurrying through the garbage.
The meeting would end soon; the door would open slowly but reveal no light as they left the back room of the restaurant one by one searching out the shadowed corners and slipping unnoticed from the alley into the street. She waited for two in particular, one of them young, idealistic, malleable. She would dismantle the bomb, redirect him. The ring told her so.
She needed the second man, the one who would stay behind, to get to the leader. The ring told her that too.
She was baffled by the growing self- assurance that came with each job and wondered for the hundredth time if that bizarre encounter with the voice was more than a dream. That visit had to be as real or unreal as her life as Madame, she finally decided. She prayed that the messages in the ring were coming from that voice, not at all sure why she trusted it. But what choice did she have? The messages in the ring, telling her what to do … they had to be right. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
An aboriginal of the planet, he’d said. That was her. Since that conversation, she found herself watching everyone, trying to determine who was real and who might not be. After meeting the voice…. Well, the idea of aliens had more substance now, more appeal.
She played with the ring, twisting it on her finger, sliding it partially off and then back on. It felt natural to play with the ring like that. A reflex action from her “other” life? She hoped so. Made her feel a little more whole, a little more real.
She made a mental note to begin staff performance reviews and contract recommendations on Monday. Wait a minute. What reviews? What contracts? Oh my God! That’s my real life creeping in? It has to be. Of course when she tried to build on those fleeting thoughts they disappeared. So fucking frustrating and not a damn thing she could do about it. She wondered if she’d ever get her life back? Would she want it back, after all this? No. Don’t go there. Think of something else. She managed to talk herself out of a deep funk.
She shifted to Mr. Austin and the movie she’d asked him to make. The voice had said her movie idea was okay; told her he’d help—as a little reward. Told her it suited his purposes. She felt guilty, indulging her Hollywood fantasies when she had such important work to do. But then, the movie was part of her work, designed to impact viewers the way the voice wanted.
Her thoughts careened to a halt as she realized she was accepting the idea of a superpower controlling her. Was she certifiably insane? She shifted uncomfortably as shivers that had nothing to do with the chill of the night coursed through her. Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! She could feel the rising panic. Scraping sounds brought her concentration back to the task at hand. She surveyed the building and moved a few inches to her left to get a clearer view of the doorway. The air was still, the city quiet, the small creatures still rustling. She waited.
Her thoughts wandered yet again, to the dinner meeting with Mr. Austin and the others. She was baffled, as always, by people’s reactions to her. She felt so very ordinary. Allan had winked at her smugly from his position behind his friends. Shane had looked like a kid who had just been granted full access to the cookie jar. Vicky’s eyes had widened, her hand clamped over her mouth. Jamie, standing beside Ron, had stared openly. Ian looked flummoxed and unbelieving. Ron…? His reaction had been much more complex, a blend of disbelief, awe and….
He was an unhandsome man. His hair was spiky and unruly, likely with a mind of its own and his features were at odds with each other, mouth too wide, chin too long, but he had the most incredible eyes she had ever seen. Eyes that she could easily get lost in and not mind if she was never found again, eyes that could see her soul. The same piercing depth and brilliance as her ring. Her heart thudded for a moment. Had the voice sent Ron to her?
Ron was attracted to her, she knew; there was no question about that. The only question was how she felt about him.
Attracted? The touch of his hand—a heart- stopping jolt. If that was any indication.... She had looked into his eyes and enjoyed, for the first time, the luxury of leaving the world for a moment and indulging in wild fantasies—fantasies she suspected matched his, though she had no understanding of why this particular man took her on this flight.
She’d met so many men in the past months, had had fleeting attractions to a great number of them—François for one—but none had affected her as Ron did. She didn’t want to be attracted to him this much, didn’t want to obligate him, didn’t want to be obligated to him, and definitely didn’t want to want so much to be held by him. She didn’t understand it and she didn’t like it. Just one more manifestation of the unbelievable turn her life had taken, another manifestation of her lack of control. Over my own life, for God’s sake.
She was glad she had the movie as an excuse to see Ron again. His eyes, those incredible eyes, had spoken volumes and she felt an almost tangible connection to this virtual stranger. Maybe Powers had sent him to help her with her work. She laughed at herself before that thought was even completed. She definitely didn’t want Ron’s help with her work. She wanted…. Stop it! Keep your mind on your job, girl.
All thoughts of Ron vanished as the door opened slowly. Nine men slipped into the alley and disappeared in the darkness. Her finger tingled. She glanced at the ring. Two men still in the darkened room. Her turn. She entered and pulled the door closed.
“Give it to me.” The youth gaped at her. The older man scowled but didn’t move. “I won’t say it twice.” The younger man lifted his bulky sweater over his head, dropped it by his fee, and began to unwind the bindings from his torso. She held out her hand. He passed the explosives to her. He squatted down to pick up his sweater, hugged it to his scrawny chest and backed away from her. He put one hand behind him, felt for the wall and sidled along it to the door. He never once took his eyes off her. “No more,” she said. He nodded twice, then twice more, and startled away like a deer escaping the headlights.
The older man growled and lunged at her. “Oh, no you don’t,” she said and raised her arm to block his swing. “You can stop right now.” He did. “Take me to your leader.” Pretty lame, but fun.
The man slumped, accepted his defeat, and gestured for her to follow.
*
Feeling full and relaxed, Elspeth and I sat with our parents after dinner. We didn’t have a lot of family time. I often wondered if the Guardians had ulterior motives in keeping Drones so fully occupied.
“That’s a clever little device you’ve described to us, son.” My father was intrigued with gadgets and thought the ring I’d given Em was one of the best.
“I found it in the antiquities room at the library. It was one of the first attempts at communication, but apparently was discarded as unusable.”
“Why did you choose it then?”
Why indeed? The stupid ring had caused me no end of grief trying to communicate with Em. All those swirls of light and color that refused to reform into messages she could interpret. And yet, I’d stubbornly stuck with it. A ring fashioned from a single piece of diamond was somehow most fitting for my Little Soldier. Elspeth had accused me of being a romantic, whatever that meant.
I glanced at my father who was waiting for an explanation. “There was something about the ring that seemed perfect for Earth. And,” here I puffed my chest out with pride, “I found that if I focus my thoughts to the very center of the ring, I'm able to send clear pictures that she can understand. It’s working marvelously.” I didn’t mention that Em loved the feel of the ring, the weightiness of it. Made her feel connected to me. I liked that. “How did you—”
A tingle in my ear signaled an incoming message. “Sorry, Dad, I’ve been summoned.” It was time to report on my meeting with Em.
Mom held up my cloak and hurried me on my way.
*
“She was certain that I was … we were … guiding her. I used my voice when I spoke with Em, but I always spoke in the plural.” Mentor’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “Not in a royal sense.” I rushed to explain. “In a collective sense because we Powers have you guiding us and we have the backing of the Grand Council, at the directives of the Guardians, so our work really is collective and I thought—”
“Yes, yes.” Mentor waved a hand dismissively. “Is he there?”
She meant Ron, of course. “Yes.”
“And?”
I shifted uncomfortably. Watching Em, I’d seen that my desires mirrored hers. Was I inadvertently transmitting to her? Was she then directing them to Ron instead of to me? What the Sky was going on? I hadn’t brought Ron into her life but there he was, damn it. “She’s falling for him.” Unhandsome. She was too kind. “And she thinks I sent him.”
“Perfect.” Mentor smirked.
The bitch was up to something. No doubt about it.