63 - Teardrop Two-Step (4) [June 11th, Age 15]

Again, Bell was gone before I woke up. This Candace must have worked long shifts—if she lived alone at that age, I guess it was to be expected. Rent wasn’t super high in this part of the country (I’d looked into it, once) but living alone on a pizza-worker’s salary was a tough matter no matter how you sliced it.

And once again I went through my morning routine alone. Everything was exactly identical, right down to standing in the warm sliver of light that came through the window. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel that it was there—a patch of carpet slightly warmer than its surroundings; or rather, a couple droplets passing through the sunlight and heating up. It was close enough to putting my hand over the stovetop burner, or having a heated blanket draped over my shoulders.

It was a calm reminder that I was here and things were okay.

At around eleven, after listening to the morning show on the channel we’d left off on the night before, I set out again to the bus stop. I didn’t expect anyone to be there, really, even though yesterday was the first time I’d been ghosted by other members of the team. Everyone was always prompt, and on the rare occasion I got there before someone, they were always no more than an hour back. Even though I had a sample size of a whopping one I still expected that black-metal park bench to be empty.

But Loybol and a vaguely egg-shaped void in the air named Eliza were there, and the two offset in my mind to keep everything perfectly neutral.

I waved to them as I approached, stepping around the glass enclosure and sitting down next to Loybol, even though she was on the far side of the bench and there was more space next to Eliza.

“Hello, Erika,” Loybol said.

Eliza shot me a brief salute and kept her attention pinned forward.

“Hi,” I said, suddenly small again. After a second, I remembered why I was there and added, “Bell’s doing okay. She’s got an in on the pizza shop and she’s just waiting for Sal to order now.”

“That’s good,” Loybol said, and even I could tell that that was not actually true.

“Is something—”

Loybol raised a hand and I instantly shut up. “Benji’s missing.”

The light cloud of droplets I kept lazily swirling around the bus stop enclosure stopped dead in their tracks and suddenly I was dropped headfirst into a pool of still darkness—a molten ichor void in which there was no light or depth or movement.

My breath caught in my throat and it was only after Loybol softly said my name that I sat up straight, forced air through my nose, and regained composure.

“Okay,” I said, forced and measured. Mostly to myself.

“Everyone not involved with your mission is looking for him now. Yoru’s here with us; he’s at the corner store across the street right now getting a drink. Cygnus and Ava are following a lead elsewhere.”

“Is there—what can I do? To help look.”

“Nothing, right now,” Loybol said, turning her attention to the street. Her hands rested limp in her lap. “We need you to stay with Bell and make sure she’s able to wring that info out of Sal or we can’t make any progress toward the end-goal. I think there’s a reasonable chance that the plan you two are on isn’t going to pan out—either there’s going to be an ambush, or Sal’s going to be dead, or something along those lines. I can’t have you going around alone because of how simple it would be to have a telepath pick you off, and I can’t let Bell go around on her own, either.”

“It’s not like Bell’s in any danger,” I said, settling into the train of thought. I slipped my hands between my knees. “She can—she can probably handle herself, and I can tag along with Yoru or something. I’d see things he couldn’t.”

“He’s an air-key,” Loybol said. “His ability to have eyes in the back of his head is around the same as yours. If anything, I’d have you tag along with Ava or Cygnus during a partner hand-off and I’d go off on my own, but—with Benji missing, we’re better off having a group of three and two pairs than three pairs and a lone wolf. It’s safer that way.”

“Bell’d be fine on her own,” I repeated. She didn’t address it, so I’d assumed she didn’t quite hear me.

“I know,” Loybol said, in exactly the same low tone as before. There was no hint of frustration in her voice—she was ready for me to stick on that, somehow. Well—I suppose the “somehow” wasn’t all that hard to guess, but it still came as enough of a surprise to give me pause. “That’s not the point.”

I wanted to ask what the point was, but Eliza jumped in before I got the chance. “For reference, who’s Bell at the pizza shop, in case we decide to stop in?”

“We won’t,” Loybol added, eyes flicking toward Eliza for just a half-second, the sudden movement of moisture sticking bright in my perception, “but it’d be good to know for reference.”

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“I can’t say I won’t get a slice there, for the bit,” Eliza said. “Maybe to check in on the eldritch monster, see how she’s doing, that sort of thing.”

“I can,” Loybol replied, hard, and that was that. Even Eliza wasn’t going to push the matter further.

“She’s—her, um, replacement’s name is Candace,” I said, and I found that, again, I wasn’t quite able to face Loybol, even though I wouldn’t have been able to meet her eyes anyway. Even with the way things were now I still tried to make a point of tilting my face to meet others—to the extent that I imagined eye contact looked. That kind of connection was important. It made me look engaged, even if that wasn’t entirely true. In hindsight, I can say that it was probably better if I didn’t, given that my eyes didn’t have anything to look at, and forcing other people to stare into my unfocused thousand-yard blind stare probably made them more uncomfortable than me talking while facing a wall or some trees or something.

It’s not relevant anymore, but if—God forbid—I had to do this whole thing over again, it’s something I’d keep in mind.

Going on, I said, “She’s kind of short. Acne. Blonde curly hair.” Then, remembering what Bell told me in the booth at the restaurant while she was picking her prey, I added, “Um...Bell said she thought there was a team employed by New York just like us. Another Unit 6. They’d be tasked with killing us.” My train of thought started running out of track. “She said that they were on a suicide mission and they knew it, so they’d stop at nothing to pick off as many of us as possible. I—I kind of just treated it as a scary story and didn’t think about it, but…”

“It’s okay,” Loybol said. “None of this is your fault. Benji wasn’t even with you. You can’t be faulted for something you didn’t know anything about.”

“I know,” I said, quietly. It wasn’t until the statement left my mouth that I realized how quickly I’d tried to blame myself for Benji being gone even though I couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with it—and how much I needed Loybol to tell me that I was thinking stupid thoughts.

I swallowed it down and worked my fingers together. “What’s the plan, then?”

“We’re going to keep looking,” Loybol said. Across the street, a door opened, and a short man stepped outside holding an open bottle of something. Between two fingers of his free hand he held the bottle’s cap, and with a small flick of his wrist—like he was skipping a stone—he threw the bottle cap towards us. It flew impossibly straight and fast given its shape and the force he’d moved his wrist with, and once the bottle-cap passed into the bus stop’s enclosure, I shot it down with a couple of droplets dropped onto the top of it and it clattered down to the concrete.

Loybol raised her eyebrows at the sight, and for half a second, I was more afraid of someone than I’ve ever been.

Then Yoru jogged across the street and waved and said hello and the fear scattered.

“What’s up?” he said, stepping inside and taking a seat next to Eliza. I’d forgotten there was more bench over there at all, and I’d stopped putting droplets over there, so for half a second Yoru’s body passed into a strange void and I thought he was about to sit down onto nothing.

But he didn’t fall over.

“Don’t do that,” Loybol said, in a tone that allowed no dissension.

“Nobody’s watching us,” Yoru replied, dissenting. “Lay off.”

“That’s not the point and you know it,” she said back, and to that he just shrugged and didn’t offer a direct reply. Instead, he said to me, “You’ve been filled in, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s Miss Cronenberg?”

“Bell’s fine,” I said, letting the name go right over my head where it belonged. He couldn’t have been referring to anyone else, anyway.

“Swell,” he said. “I saw Cygnus not too long ago, too. He’s doing well, in case you were wondering.”

I wasn’t, but as soon as he said the name that sensation flashed through my head and I instantly felt guilty for not thinking of him sooner. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that—but the platitude wasn’t enough to make me not feel bad.

“That’s good,” I said, absently.

Yoru leaned back, his shoulder blades touching the cool glass of the bus stop enclosure’s back wall. He folded his hands behind his head, passed a quick glance at Eliza, who was passing a quick glance in kind at him. “Benji’s probably fine. I mean, he does stuff like this pretty often, right?”

I shook my head. “I can’t remember him ever doing this.”

“I mean, he likes to do things his own way,” Yoru clarified. “Like when he spent a month trying to get those hempheads in Schenectady to keep their nature-cult quiet when Prochazka just wanted him to kill them. Remember?”

I couldn’t possibly forget that. “Yeah.”

“I could see him going off on his own if he found a good enough lead and didn’t think he had time to run it by someone,” Yoru went on. “He’s probably fine.”

“I—I just don’t know,” I said, slowly. “I feel like he wouldn’t. Not now. Not with…um, not with all of us out here like this. He’d wait, right?”

Yoru’s easygoing smile was fading—I could feel the corners of his mouth going limp into a flat line. If he could feel the water there, he didn’t do anything about it like Ava did.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Yoru replied, to me—but in truth, to nobody in particular.

“I just don’t know,” I repeated, facing the dirt. Shoving my fingertips between my knees again.

I realized what I did about thirty seconds too late to cover for it—but by then the words were gone, scattered into everyone’s waiting ears and through the half-humid air like so many particles of dust.

I couldn’t possibly take it back now.

“You can go back to your spot,” Loybol said to me, after a moment’s silence. “That’s all we have for an update.”

I took a breath and stood up. “Understood,” I said, trying to salvage a professional tone. “Um—good luck, everyone. I’ll—hopefully Bell found something today so I can report some good news tomorrow.”

“That’d be great,” Loybol said, and even in her voice there as a touch of reservation, a little hesitation. Something even I could find, but maybe only because I was looking for it.

I left the bus stop and set off for home, and it was only when I rounded a block’s corner and escaped the direct eyeshot of Eliza that I could relax. She watched me go for longer than the other two, surely—tracking my every movement until no part of me remained in her sight-sphere.

I swallowed that down and walked.