26

Summer shifted, folding and unfolding her feet, into an array of increasingly uncomfortable positions. Each somehow less comfortable With a sigh, she rocked to her feet and opened her eyes.

She glanced a Mensha sniffing at a bloody shirt with a smile creasing his closed eyes and decided to look elsewhere. Her gaze landed on the window, and a frown set about her features.

A world of disasters peered through the windows, urging her forwards. Yet here she was doing nothing.

She walked to the glass closed her eyes and focused. Like a weight on her skin, the sensation diffused through her glow. Flowing through the glass and poring into the wandering shades. Trickling away into their darkness and the city’s vast expanse. As diffusion rendered her shine powerless to light a thing.

Her eyes flickered open and the sense escaped her, yet the frailty clung to her thoughts. Finding consort in all her humbling suffocating experiences. She shot a glance at the street and sighed.

She turned and paced the room placing every step with a breath. In, she recalled long nights spent roaming through documents, checking and rechecking a legal draft for any mistakes. Her light dulled.

She smothered the smile that came, yet her lights surged. She sighed and continued.

Out, she stepped and reached for impetus. Her mind grasped a recent memory, surprise and remembered horror swam through her. A bat broke against a screaming man’s head. Her eyes opened to a bright room and she glanced at Mensha.

His smile wasn’t a wide thing, but his eyes faint crinkle, and the light curl on his cheeks were perfect. Curled in the corner, he seemed to dream sweetly. No struggle for control or calm. He also looked nothing like the murderer he now was.

If she ignored the bloody shoe he’d retrieved at some point.

He was the same person, she couldn’t decide if that was better or worse. Her luminosity guttered.

Her slow march continued. Focus came in fits, as thoughts bidden and unwanted floated to the surface of her mind like drops of oil. Crowding her limited attention. Her face fell into her hands. She hissed, long and deep.

“Summer?” she jumped to her feet and world around, Mensha’s confused eyes pinning her.

“I’m fine just having some trouble focusing.” She said clenching her unconsciously balled fists.

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He didn’t look convinced, and his lips set in contemplation.

“I am,” she took a quick breath, “I’ll be fine, as soon as we can get on the road. So,” She scrambled for anything more convincing to say.

“Okay,” he said freeing her the need. “But remember I’m here if you need me.” He smiled and struck her how cruel the world was to make him a killer, and how she’d let it happen.

“Ya,” it was she could say. He closed his eyes, and Summer returned to her own meditations.

The dragging hours in the small room brought her no reprieve. Instead, time only drew further disorder, as questions burbled to her mind’s forefront. What would they do once they were found, it was one thing they were adults but there was at least one child, one injured child.

She couldn’t bring them along with all the threats she knew about let alone the ones that filled Mensha’s mind.

What if there were many, Trying to convince a bunch of people to help her search made sense in theory, but not when she essentially asking them to walk into danger. While Mensha might be fine with that simple goal, she doubted most would.

Yet hunkering down felt like betraying everyone else who needed help.

Her light jumped and fell like a drunk bulb. Flaunting her efforts to control it. It wasn’t this hard in a fight. God, she’d never been in a real fight and now she was reminiscing about them. She felt a crisis of faith in her future.

“Summer” Mensha said, and her wandering glow resolved into stability. “Can you help with something?”

“Yes,” she said and sagged.

“Can, you hide this,” he knocked the bloody shoe on the ground, “in the office.”

“What happened to a day,” she said and retrieved the shoe with a grimace. She held the shoe away and shoved the table aside.

“It was an estimation“ She opened the door to the stale office air, “It has been surprisingly smo-“A gag cut his words and he swayed on his feet. She rushed to his side, nausea was written across his face. “Door,” he choked from his covered noise. “Please,”

She spun, slammed the portal shut, and returned to his side. He leaned heavily into the wall a hand firmly pinched his upturned nose. She winced as his features spelled vomit in her near future and gain as he swallowed it.

“What’s wrong.” She whispered patting his back. She waited with a pensive frown as he gathered himself through roiling nausea.

“I’ve succeeded,” he released his nose but disgust pinched his face. “There have however been some unforeseen side effects.”

A knot tightened in her stomach.

“My sense of smell and all its related emotions are quite a bit stronger,” he said and leaned into her.

“But you’re okay,” she tested.

“Beyond being sick yes.” He drawled with a weak smile.

“Good,” she whispered and relaxed. “Good.”

“Summer,” he mumbled.

“Ya.”

“We need a bath.”

She hoped he didn’t vomit.

“Think, I think we can go now,” he said and stood back, his expression was as plain as ever but it had a particular, pinched look.

“Are you sure?” she said a leave lilt to her voice. “Can’t you fix whatever you did.”

“That would require some deep brain modifications.”

“Ah,”

“Ah indeed.” He said amusement peeking through his nausea. She followed him the to door and began to draw a deep breath before reconsidering. He open it and recoiled tilting back like a top before curling forward. “This will be an ordeal.”

She didn’t envy his mystical control quiet so much.