Week 5: THE GLITCH (Continued from Wk 4) Shadows, raindrops, whispers, magic, extinguish, illumination, target, intersection. Zayne stirs in his sleep. He rubs the grogginess away from his eyes with the heels of his palms and pushes himself up onto his elbows. “You’re awake,” he states, his voice still laced with the huskiness of sleep. Hope scurries away from him, accidentally kicking him square in the chest in her haste. Caught unawares and still half asleep, arms flailing in the air, Zayne tumbles off the bed and lands flat on his back on the floor with a loud thud. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to kick you, honest!” Hope cries, scrambling to his side of the bed and peering down at him. He lay there with his eyes squeezed shut and his hand pressed so hard against his injured shoulder that his knuckles had turned white but apart from the hiss of pain that followed the sickening thud, he made no other sound. “I swear, you will be the death of me,” he says in a thin whisper. He grabs the bedpost with his good hand and painstakingly pulls himself up into a sitting position on the floor. Hope was pressed against the headboard of the large bed. Whoever had cleaned her up while the Elders were interrogating him had done a good job. The cuts and bruises on her feet were gone. Her face was scrubbed clean and her thick unruly curls were now braided neatly. They had adorned her in a diaphanous garment so sheer had the lighting from the large windows been able to provide better illumination to the room, he’d probably be able to see everything it failed to conceal from where he was sitting. “It was an accident.” “I’m sure it was,” bracing his hands on the side of the bed, Zayne pushes himself up into a standing position. Hope hurries off the bed and backs away from the bed. “Well, you shouldn’t have been on the bed with me!” Hope retorts. “It’s my bed.” “It is?” Hope shakes her head, “Then you should have brought me to another room! Or, or,” she looks around the room, “slept on the couch!” she finishes, pointing at the long black leather seat. Zayne pulls his robe off the back of the armchair where he had discarded it the night before as he walks towards her. He stops an arms length away from her and holds the robe out to her. He could have told her to get the robe herself but hell, after all she had put him through, he figured he deserved a closer look. Hope looks quizzically at him, then at the robe and then looks down at herself. She gasps in shock at the shimmering slip she was wearing. The darned thing wasn’t worth the cloth it was made from! Hope grabs the robe from him and turns around, giving him a glimpse of her derriere as she shoves her hands into the sleeves of the robe. She ties the sash of the oversized robe around her waists and whirls back to face Zayne. “Tell me you didn’t see anything!” “I didn’t see anything,” he lies, trying to maintain a straight face. “You’re lying,” she accuses him. “Yes. You’re right. I am,” he agrees. Standing there with his white linen trousers riding dangerously low on his hips and the most charming grin on his face, he looked disarmingly handsome – and, he was the embodiment of every bad boy in every romance novel she had ever read! “You! You are a – a naughty, naughty boy!” cries Hope, wagging her index finger at him. He starts to laugh, a low rumbling sound deep in his chest. “You need to leave,” she says haughtily. “This is my room.” “Fine then, I’ll leave!” she declares. Lifting the robe up so she wouldn’t trip on its hem and fall flat on her face, Hope pulls the door open and steps out into the hall. She walks down to one side of the corridor then the other. Utterly at a lost as to which direction to take or where to go, she turns back to the room. She finds Zayne standing in the doorway, his good shoulder propped against the door frame, tanned arms crossed across a tanned chest, his whole body shaking with mirth. The lousy monkey was laughing at her! Fuming, Hope marches back towards him, pushes him out of her way and stomps into the room. Hope slams the door in his face and bolts it. Laugh at that! Hah! She mouths to the locked door. Zayne knocks on the door lightly with the palms of his hands. His humour all but extinguished. “Hope, open the door,” he whispers. He leans back on his heels and scans the hallway to make sure no one was watching. “That will teach you to laugh at me!” she replies in an equally loud whisper. “I shouldn’t have laughed. I was wrong. I’m sorry. Please, open this door,” he tries to reason with her, his tone cajoling. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you!” she replies in a sing-song tone. “Open the door, now!” he growls. “I’m going back to sleep now. You should get some rest too,” she says in a saccharine sweet voice. Zayne raises his hands with every intention of blasting the damned door off its hinges but checks himself in mid act. He didn’t want to wake the whole household up and his current predicament and state of undress was not something he wanted to broadcast. He lowers his hands, takes a deep calming breath and he sprints down the hall to Tristan’s room. “Tristan!” he calls in hushed tones, rapping on Tristan’s door with his knuckles. He hears the rustle of sheets behind the closed door. He waits impatiently as Tristan drags his feet to the door. “What are you doing here at this hour?” asks Tristan, opening the door a tiny crack. “Are you alone?” Zayne had to ask. Tristan was popular with the ladies and had no shame in taking full advantage of the perks that came with it. “Unfortunately, yes,” Tristan replies on a yawn. Having confirmed that the coast was clear, Zayne shoulders his way into the room. “Again, what are you doing here at this hour?” Tristan repeats himself. He takes in Zayne’s rankled expression and lack of clothing and his face starts to break into a slow knowing smile. “I need to sleep here tonight.” “Why is that? The little lady kicked you out?” he prods; poking fun at Zayne was always so entertaining. “Lets just say my roommate doesn’t really fancy a roommate,” Zayne replies. “She asked you to leave and you left?” “She locked me out,” Zayne clarifies in a deadpan voice, his face wiped devoid of expression. Tristan sputters in surprise, “She is half your size! How exactly did she manage to do that?” “I don’t really want to go into the details.” “Awww, come here baby brother. I’ll cuddle you if she won’t,” he laughs and holds both his arms out wide, welcoming Zayne to walk into a hug. “Not funny,” Zayne replies and heads towards the bed instead. “Come here, you!” teases Tristan, hooking one arm around Zayne’s neck. “Cut it out,” warns Zayne, trying to push out of Tristan’s tackle hold on him. “I am going to have so much fun with this!” laughs Tristan. “You breathe a word of this to anyone and I swear –“ “Your threats never work on me!” he was clutching his stomach now and bending over with laughter. “I’ll let Imogen have your head,” Zayne finishes. “And I am sure she would relish the task,” Tristan laughs harder, not the least bit fazed by the threat. “Go to sleep,” Zayne settles himself more comfortably onto the bed and closes his eyes. “You left Imogen to stand guard?” “No, I asked her to leave much earlier.” “You left her alone? Is that safe?” Zayne shoots out of the bed, making Tristan laugh even harder. “You are so gullible!” laughs Tristan, “Don’t worry about your little lady. As far as anyone knows, you are in there with her. She should be fine.” “Target practice. I’ll tell Imogen to use you for target practice.” The brothers continue with their banter. Tristan promising Zayne that he would never be able to live that moment down. Zayne responding with any and every manner of threat he could conjure. *** Zayne looks out from the glass panels lining the Holding on the eighth floor of the main building. Ever since he had been identified as the Chosen One, he had spent hours and days on end locked up in the Holding. He stood guided by the Elders but the decisions were always his to make. In order to make the right decisions, to rule well and to keep his people safe, he had to hone his existing powers. Learn new powers then hone those. He had to learn everything there was to know of his world and the other parallel worlds that existed around them – of the shadows and dangers that lurked amongst and beyond them. Carrying the weight of the Land was not a choice that he had made. He had come to accept that it was not a choice he was given to make to begin with but that didn’t help him to lessen the hate he had developed for this glass cell and everything that it represented and held. Looking down at the courtyard where Hope sat laughing with Tristan, he hated it even more. Hated the freedom that had been denied of him for as long as he could remember. “You seem distracted today,” comments his mother from behind him. Zayne turns away from the windows and looks back at his mother. He hadn’t even realized that she had entered. He looks around at the Learners around him. What had they been saying? How long had he been staring out that damned window? “Take a walk with me,” she says to her son. “Today’s session is over,” his mother says to the other occupants of the room. They wait until the Learners had filed out of the room before exiting themselves. Imogen falls in line a few steps behind Zayne. “I hear you brought back the prophecy,” his mother says conversationally. “News seems to have taken its time to reach you, Mother,” Zayne replies. He walks beside his mother into the glass elevator. Wait here. As you will. Imogen nods. “Oh, I’ve known since yesterday. I just thought you might have your hands full,” his Mother laughs. She notes that he had his hands carefully clasped behind his back. He had memories he didn’t want to share, “And I thought you might want to sleep on your decision.” And I needed time to think of a way to convince you to take her back, away from our world. But the rest of that sentence was just an echo in her mind. “Which decision would that be?” “The obvious one. To keep her here.” “Why would I want to sleep on it?” “Because you have never made a rash decision, Zayne. Keeping her here, it’s a rash decision.” “I had no choice but to bring her here.” “But you have the choice of not keeping her here.” “It’s for the best.” “Is it? What does she want?” Zayne looks out onto the courtyard again. Tristan had introduced her to a group of youth. By the looks of it, she was as fascinated with his people as his people were of her. The elevator doors open to darkness. “I want to show you something,” his mother leads the way into what they all referred to as her lair. The room was huge, spanning nearly half the floor of the building but it was always kept dark and completely empty. “Have a seat.” Zayne squints his eyes to re-adjust his vision to the darkness surrounding him. He lowers himself onto one of the only two seats situated in the middle of the dark empty space. His mother sits down on the chair opposite his. Their gifts were not to be misused. A rule, each and every one of them had been taught countless times to the point that it was ingrained in them. She was going to break that rule today. She rests her head on the backrest of the chair and closes her eyes. Like magic, a myriad of screens appear in the darkness around them, each showcasing Hope in various stages of her life. Hope as a toddler in diapers, following her older brother around. Hope sitting at her desk, dark rimmed glasses on, concentrating on her work. Hope having drinks with her friends. Hope at graduation. Hope at a concert. Hope celebrating her birthday with her family. Hope crying for the passing of her grandmother. Hope standing beside her car at an intersection, with one hand on her hip, the other shielding her eyes. Hope planning a book launching. Zayne’s eyes move from one screen to the next. This was the first time his mother had shared her powers with him. The first time she had allowed him, or anyone, as far as he was aware, to see what she could see, memories. Hope’s memories. “How did you access her memories without touching her?” “You are the only one that requires touch.” The images of Hope’s past disappear the instant his mother opens her eyes. Zahra looks at her son, her violet eyes the only thing Zayne can see in the dark. She stands up and leads the way back to the elevator. Zayne follows. He closes his eyes against the sudden glare of the sun. “Do not mention this to anyone. My visions are not something I am allowed to share,” warns his mother. “Why did you show this to me?” “I thought it would be best for you to make an informed decision. No, I wanted you to see for yourself. She has a family. Friends. A life. I wanted you to know that it is important for her to make her own decision on this matter,” Zahra explains. They step out onto the bridge on the second floor between the main building and the annex. “I wouldn’t know how to send her back even if I wanted to.” “How did you bring her here?” “It’s a theory I am not comfortable to discuss with you.” Zahra stops and reaches out to touch her son, “I can look into your memories. See how it happened.” Zayne sidesteps her touch. Just then Hope’s laughter carries up to them. His mother looks down at the courtyard. Zayne follows her gaze. “Don’t. Don’t look,” warns Zayne. “I wasn’t going to.” “She doesn’t know of her powers. She thinks it is nonsense. We need to at least teach her how to recognise her powers. How to use them. How to control them.” “Maybe ignorance is a blessing.” “How can you of all people say that? You, who can see into peoples minds and memories?” “I see the past, Zayne, events that have already taken place. The most that I can do is empathise with those who have experienced them. Hope, she will see the future, the good and the bad. She will have to deal with deciding whether to act on the knowledge or let events take its course. If she takes action, she will change the future, the shape of fate, not necessarily always for the better. If she does nothing, she will have to live with the knowledge of the end and the constant heartache of wondering whether letting it end was the right choice. If she wants to act on it but fails, she will have to deal with the despair of that failure. Do you really believe she is strong enough to carry that burden? Do you really want to expose her to that?” Zahra’s conscience eats at her. She had broken the rules. She had allowed him to view her visions first hand. She was intentionally playing with his emotions. Manipulating his possible feelings for the human against him. She could see the harsh impact it was having on Zayne but she holds on to her resolve. Hope staying in their world would mean the end of their world, as they knew it and she couldn’t let that happen. Zayne sighs, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Thank you, Mother, for your insight. If you will excuse me, please,” he nods at his mother and takes a few steps back before turning away. He looks down at Hope then at the distance he needed to travel on the conventional path to the courtyard. He leaps off the side of the bridge instead. He lands gracefully on his two feet, the grass muffling his descent. He straightens and strolls towards the small crowd. Despite the social smile he wore on his face, dressed in his usual black attire with his long straight hair riding half way down his back blowing slightly in the breeze and his blue eyes standing out against the golden tan of his skin, Zayne looked menacing. The youth see Zayne’s approach first and hurriedly excuse themselves. “Odd, don’t you think?” Hope asks Tristan, referring to the way the kids had scurried off. “Not really,” replies Tristan. His next statement is directed at Zayne who was approaching them from behind, “Where is the Guardian?” “Scared, Brother?” replies Zayne, joining the party. He inclines his head and smiles at Hope in greeting. She glares at him and turns away. She hadn’t seen him since she had locked him out of the room the night before and didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t seem upset though, which was a relief, but she figured she needed to stand her ground. Of course, she wouldn’t really be able to do much if he decided to pick her up and chuck her around like the stumpy creatures. A shiver runs up her spine at the thought. “Hardly. Just wondering if I had anything to look forward to,” Tristan laughs, taking in the exchange between his brother and the human with interest. “Not today, I’m afraid but if it will make you happy, I will oblige.” “Our Lord is so kind, don’t you agree?” Tristan asks Hope. “Thank you for staying with Hope in my absence,” Zayne quickly intercedes, “Having said all our proper greetings, I need to discuss something with her in private.” “Well, I believe this is my queue to politely excuse myself. It was a pleasure spending time with you,” Tristan bows slightly at Hope and gives her one of his most dazzling smiles. He then pats Zayne on his shoulder, their usual show of support for each other, and takes his leave. He understood Zayne better than anyone else and right then Zayne’s eyes were shadowed with worry. Zayne stands with his hands clasped behind his back, trying to think of the best way to broach the subject. His mother was right. The decision should be Hope’s to make. He wasn’t one to procrastinate but maybe leaping right into it without thinking it through wasn’t one of his brightest moments. Maybe he should have talked this through with Tristan. Asked him to approach her on the subject instead. He may fare better in convincing her of her powers. “That wasn’t very nice,” Hope comments, feeling obliged to fill in the long stretch of uncomfortable silence. Great! Just great! Try and rile up the alien with powers why don’t you?! “What wasn’t very nice?” “The way you just dismissed Tristan.” Shut up already, Hope! “I didn’t dismiss my brother. I asked to be excused,” Zayne clarifies. “It didn’t sound very polite from where I was standing.” She should just bite her tongue out! Really, she should! “You heard wrong then.” “That! That arrogance there! That’s your problem!” She gives up. She obviously had a split personality and it was on a roll today! “Arrogance?” He was scowling now. “All I am saying is that you should practice more respect for your elders,” Hope hedges, trying to placate the situation and bring an end to this conversation. Achieving the opposite. “I see. Applying that line of thought, shouldn’t you apply more respect to your address of me?” replies Zayne. “Why is that?” “Well, for one, I am much older than you.” “Really? I’m twenty-nine. How old are you?” “I am three hundred and twenty,” replies Zayne. “Hah! Right!” scoffs Hope, rolling her eyes. Zayne frowns, “Are you calling me a liar, now?” “Are you serious?” Zayne stares at her in silence. In less than five minutes the crazy woman had called him rude, arrogant and a liar! Never in his life had anyone dared to be this insolent with him! – Tristan being the only exception. “Oh, wow. You are ancient,” Hope blinks. OMG! She had kissed a really, really, REALLY old man! “I wouldn’t exactly say I am ancient,” was Zayne’s clipped response. “You’re right. You are cryptic!” She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “CRYPTIC?!” Zayne’s incredulous exclamation rings out loud, startling everyone and everything within hearing distance. Tristan turns back in alarm. His brother was glowering down at the human woman with murder in his eyes. Tristan catches sight of Imogen through the glass panels on the eighth floor. Her intense glare was now fixed on the couple in the garden. Her grip on the balustrades was so hard that they were starting to get bent out of shape. Anything that upset Zayne, upset her ten-fold. He had to do something before the Amazon decided to fly right through the windows. Plus his idiot of a brother obviously needed to attend a crash course on courting ladies. Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, Tristan looks up at the sky. Within seconds the clear blue skies were replaced with dark clouds. Fat raindrops start to fall. Tristan smiles with satisfaction. Imogen wouldn’t get her wings wet if she could avoid it and if his brother failed to take advantage of the rain that he had so conveniently supplied to him, well he just had no hope. Smiling with satisfaction, Tristan winks at Imogen, whose deadly stare was now fixed on him, and starts whistling a happy tune.
Posted on: Mon, 29 Sep 2014 09:06:10 +0000
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