8. Immediate Danger (Pt. 4)

[ The door closes behind her. She hurries to her chair and sets the flute on the table. ] Got it.

[ Just when he thought Terra wasn’t coming back. ]

[ Despite the tension in his spine, he takes his possession back with muted cheer, wiping it off on his T-shirt. ] Thanks.

[ He blows a puff of air, a wobbling whistle, just to see if it still works. ]

[ A relieved smile curves the corners of her mouth. See? No explosions. ]

Sorry that took so long. There was… [ A quick glance to the one-way mirror, catching her own grimace. ] Well, never mind. You’ll have more time to play once you’re out of here.

[ At that, his complexion turns sickly. He wilts over the flute, balling it against his ribcage. ]

[ Her eyes pinch at the corners. ] What?

[ He darts a glance at the one-way mirror. Licks his chapped lips. Takes the notebook. ]

I don't think they're going to let me out of here.

[ She scans this grim sentiment with unease. ]

Of course they will. [ Writing quickly and defensively. ] I've known Director Lennox most of my life. She's reasonable. We just want to make sure you're not an immediate danger first.

[ Glowering, he rolls the pen back and forth between his hands before he responds. ]

What if I am an immediate danger?

[ The roof of her mouth is dry. Sweat from her palms dampens her knees. This, from the boy with no powers who supposedly ripped open the overground, is almost a confession. ]

Can you tell me what happened?

[ He hisses a laugh and leans back in his chair, legs splayed. Graces Terra with a cynical smile. No. He’s not that stupid. That was rule number one, wasn’t it? Anything he tells her will go back to the DSC. ]

[ She bites her tongue and taps the pen on the notepad. They're so close to the truth! If he clams up now, Director Lennox won’t be able to stop Felix and Yasmine from dragging her out with cries of danger. ]

[ She stares at Soren for a long, unbroken moment. ]

[ Abruptly, she bows her head and scribbles beneath her previous question. The pen hurries across the page and down the light blue lines, but still too slowly to keep up with her thoughts. ]

[ She's writing a lot. His blunt look softens into uncertainty as he watches her pen move. ]

[ She finally breaks the silence with a conclusive tap of the nib at the end of a sentence and spins the notepad to face him. ]

I'm from a fey court. Most of us are shapeshifters–huge animals made of fire. Shapeshifting is an incredibly volatile form of magic. They are immediate dangers.

In courts, we have a lot of rules to protect us from dangerous magic. But we care about protecting the shapeshifters, too. Magic is dangerous, but it's also a gift. It says something about who we are. It exists to be used.

I know that you're scared. I am, too. But whatever happened to you can be controlled and understood. I believe that. The DSC believes that. But I don't know how to help you if I don't know what happened.

[ He sinks into reading, pulling his T-shirt over his mouth. He doesn't know all that much about fey, apart from their turning into animals, and that they travel through the overground. He didn't know that they were made of fire. How careful you would have to be! Magic exists to be used, even if it is dangerous… it's a novel idea. Anathema to everything his dad ever told him. He wasn't supposed to get any magic because of how destructive it would be—was. But his dad doesn't talk to many shapeshifters, either. So maybe there's another option, where he isn't so destructive, that his dad never even thought of. Terra doesn't look out of control. ]

[ The collar drops, and his hand creeps towards the pen. ]

If I tell you, do you promise nothing bad will happen? You'll protect me?

I promise.

[ He gives Terra a long, solemn look, assessing her expression. Then, he begins to write. ]

Doubtless you already know that my dad is a higher power. He can scry the future. He knew that Ellie would be a seer, but when I was born, he prophesied that if I ever got powers, it would be catastrophic.

Mom didn't think it would be that bad, though. Her powers can be pretty destructive, too, she said, but she learned how to control them after the flood. I was mostly instructed in staying calm, though, not about using magic at all.

But I've always been able to see it. The overground, I mean. There's a crack a bit above your head. Can fey see them, too? It's greenish. Viridian-heliotrope. [ He realizes he is getting distracted, and moves on—but leaves the question where it is. ]

Anyway. I was in the park. Ellie and I had a fight because she was getting on my case.

So I was there alone, just playing my flute to calm down. But Tyler and them from school showed up. He's my mortal enemy. He steals my stuff, and snapped my shoelaces one time, and he's always calling me slurs, but Mrs. Lombardi never gave a shit about it because I hit him, even though he does too. I hate him. [ His pen gouges into the page. ] I hate him. I wish he'd just d

[ He stops, queasily, the hot current of anger draining as quickly as if you'd pulled the plug. He draws a box around the last words and hatches it in so carefully that it's just an inky black shape, stricken from the record. ]

That's what happened again. They said some stuff. Pushed me. Tyler took my flute. I was so pissed at him. Ellie showed up. I imagine she saw it coming. And she almost got the guys to listen since she's older.

But when she told Tyler to give my flute back… [ The pen is squeezed hot in his hand. ] He pretended to do that and threw it on the ground and it broke. And I felt more angry than I'd ever felt in my entire life.

I wanted to leave or for Tyler to leave, and I was thinking that so loudly that I couldn't think about anything else. That thought was so enormous that it pushed out of me and hit something else that was enormous, and one of the cracks in the vicinity broke. But Ellie fixed it.

[ He concludes, humbly: ] I am very sorry about what I did. I promise that it won't happen again.

[ Soren writes for so long her foot starts to cramp. His words fill up the rest of the top page and the one beneath it. She wants to look at the mirror, at the beach, but she keeps her eyes on the steady pen, beads of sweat building on the back of her neck. When he's done, she takes the novella from him carefully, but quickly, her heart racing in her throat. ]

[ Taciturn Soren has a great deal to say. And what he's told her, she realises, is everything. Everything she could possibly want to know about the setting, the build up; about his relationship to his parents and his sister, and how those relate to the event; and about things she didn't ask for, like the cracks in the air and his feelings about his bullies. She stares at the solid block of ink guarding his words and dents the corner of the page with her thumbnail. He wanted out. One way or another. Can’t begrudge him that. ]

[ And he did get out. He found his way. This confession, beyond a shadow of a doubt, confirms exactly the DSC's theory. He really can open rifts. ]

[ The heavy door creaks open. ]

Terra. [ A relieved smile that does not quite meet her tense eyes. ] Excellent work.

[ His chair clatters away from him. Was it a setup? ] Tch…

[ There is a skid mark on the page where she stopped writing. She rises. ] Director?

[ Palms up. ] Let's not panic. I'm only here to collect my intern.

Terra, lass. You did your job, we're all very proud.

Now let's you and I discuss what it is that Soren told you. Bring your clipboard and the pocket watch too, if you please.

[ Frozen in indecision. Her eyes find Soren's. ]

[ With a sharp thumbtack of fear, he jerks his head 'no'. ]

[ She swallows and gives him a tiny nod. ]

Actually, Director Lennox. Could we talk in here? Now?

Certainly. [ Hands tucked into her pockets, she takes a step into the room. Her eyes move between Terra, the notebook, and the boy. ] What would you like to discuss?

[ She subtly blocks the page with her palm. ] Let's say—let's say that Soren did open the overground, and that it was an accident. What was your plan, ma'am?

Is that what he told you?

It's a hypothetical.

[ Nearing Terra, she keeps the panicked boy in the corner of her eye. ]

I hear that you're concerned. So let's rejoin the others, share all that we know, and come to a decision as a team. Hm?

[ That would be the sensible thing to do. The DSC wouldn't forsake their mission to protect the average psychic just because they're afraid. And they are, terribly afraid. The suffocating tension from the observation room followed the director into this one. ]

[ But Soren isn't an average psychic. And he asked her not to leave. The paper crinkles under her fingers. ]

[ Impatience cracks through the mask of calm. ] I'm not going to ask again.

[ The intercom comes suddenly to life. ] Lennox, the boy!

[ While the director's attention was focused on Terra, he was creeping towards the table, where the pocket watch sits. His eyes linger on a spot just behind Terra's head. Viridian-heliotrope. ]

[ This was instruction #3. ]

When they're distracted, you leave. Now, I won't be there to—

No way.

Yes way! You'll only have the one opportunity.

[ At the missive from Dr. Sebastian, he is propelled into decision. He flings his palm towards the crack in the air. Help me, he thinks with all his might. Help me, I need to leave— ]

[ The room wobbles like an image projected on a loose tarp. Not two places, but two ways of looking at the same thing. The barrier is as thin as can be. With a jolt of static feedback that sends pins and needles throughout his body, the crack tears, there is a metallic smell, and suddenly, there is a hole hanging in the air, bound by a ragged edge of light. ]

Ah--! [ She lurches back with a sharp gasp, throwing her hand up. Time slows to a crawl. The rift casts the corner of the sterile laboratory in an oily, iridescent film. Refracted colours play through her fingers. It's as beautiful as all the stable rifts she knows. ]

[ A shrill alarm pierces through the suspenseful moment. The fluorescence dims and a red light in the corner of the ceiling flashes urgently. ]

[ A scanner in the observation room—off—abruptly turns on and shorts, with a pop. She jumps. ] Merde!

[ He holds up a hand against the kaleidoscopic light from the lab, the ends of his hair sparking with green fire. ] No fucking way—!

[ In the brilliant light, her irises flash amber. Rumbling tremors rattle the table and chairs. ]

Terra, I need you to get behind me, now!

[ The ground trembles under his feet. Whatever might be lurking in the overground, he’ll take it over this. ]

[ With a yelp, he leaps for the table, rolls over the surface, scoops up the pocket watch, and disappears through the rift, into the great unknown. ]

No! [ Too late, she lunges. Her fingers close over air. The boy is gone—and with him, all hope of containing this mess. ]

[ Her eyes land on the notebook. ]

[ Before the director can move, she snatches it up. ]

Terra. [ Stepping forward, hand outstretched. ] Don’t—!

[ Director Lennox looks as she's never seen her before, wild and wide-eyed. Through the door she can hear the flurry of panicked voices. There's a ringing in her ears that has nothing to do with the screeching alarm. ]

[ She stumbles back and flings herself through the hole in the air. ]

[ The rift swallows up a pair of sensible black flats, and with one final sizzle, twitches closed. ]

[ A sheet of paper, blown about by the phantom breeze, gusts into the space just in time to be bifurcated by the last gasp of energy. The two halves, the last remaining evidence that there ever was a rift, flutter to the floor. ]