Ghosts of Koa, The First Book of Ezekiel (10 page)

"I became a member of Guild Five so that I could get social services for my family and so that Manja would have a place to play," she replied. The well-rehearsed lines rolled out smoother than she expected. "I have no interest in becoming a Civic Alchemist. Everyone knows it's illegal. Besides, I have no interest in magic. It's dumb."

She could see Sal relax immediately. His smile returned. "Alchemy is not magic, my dear. It's a science, and a highly-regarded one at that. Better suited for people who know what they're doing."

"Yeah, like Azures." The sarcasm laid thick on Zeika's voice. "Their expertise is profound."

A touch of a smirk drove a glint into Sal's eyes. "It is. Either way, hearing you say that is reassuring, Ezekiel. A delicate thing like you has little business to do with Guilds and Alchemy and Orders." He took a bite of his toast. "So, if not to commune with barbarians, what pray tell, do you do at the Guild while Manja is playing?"

Zeika looked away and rubbed her arm. "I dance. I dance ballet."

Her mind wandered to the silken shoes in her bag, and for the first time since she'd been home, she felt some of her bitterness lift, even in Sal's toxic presence. It was the one thing, aside from Manja, that brought her joy, and one of the few things she didn't have to lie about.

"Ah. A dancer. A ballerina, even. That's something I didn't know about you. I assume you've been doing it most your life?" As he said this, his gaze rolled from her face and then down. She crossed her arms, cutting off his visual traipse.

"
Yes
," she huffed out. She was beginning to tire of this game.

"That's marvelous. That was a good decision on your mother's part. Ballet is a beautiful vocation. Very suitable for a woman. Especially a Civilian woman."

It took everything in Zeika to keep her fists from tightening. "I doubt that twirling around like some twit is going to get me that far in life."

"You'd be surprised at what talents can get you far." And Sal cast a smug glance Mama's way, to which Mama lowered her eyes. "Speaking of, that reminds me. You need your work pass renewed for that waitress job, don't you?" Sal shot her a grin that was so wide Zeika thought she'd missed the punchline.

"No," she replied with a hard gaze. "I don't need it renewed for another week. And I was planning to start working locally anyway."

Sal's smile began to fade.

"Ezekiel," her mother broke in softly. "Ezekiel, please."

Zeika turned to her and then looked at Sal, who had already extended his hand, bidding her forth.

"Please, honey." Her mother's eyes softened. "It is a gift. Please."

The gaze that Zeika unrolled at her mother was longer than yarn on a spindle. But finally, she sighed in defeat and got up, pulling the heavy pendant from her robes. On one side, the Monas Hieroglyphica was carved, and Zeika couldn't help but look down at it as she approached Sal. It filled her gaze, that menagerie of winding ribbons and ivy, twining around a set of symbols that Zeika had seen many times, but never understood. Still, her eyes lingered. The hieroglyphic sign at the Monas' center lay shadowed beneath the curly barbed lace around it, roads no one could ever travel.
 

Zeika knew what lay on the other side of the work pass, but instead of looking at it, she held the pendant out to him, averting her eyes as she did.
 

Sal snatched her wrist and pulled her in. On reflex, Zeika reached for her knife holster with her other hand, but as she did, her muscles screeched to a halt, suspending her hand in mid-air. She tried to move once. Twice. Nothing. Neither of her arms would budge an inch.

"Let go of me, Sal," Zeika's voice curled into a low snarl.

Sal's eyes danced with delight as he watched her squirm.

"Let go, or I swear, I'll--
hrmph!
"
 

With a lift of his gaze, Sal locked the muscles in Zeika's jaw. Then he held out his free hand, spread his fingers, and gestured downward.

Her knees began to bend. She ground her teeth, fighting against his power as his force bore down on her. Pain exploded in her body as threads of muscle stretched and strained. She never whimpered.

"A pretty face that does not beg," Sal said. "I'm intrigued." He reached out and caressed her cheek, pushing a loose braid back behind her ear. He lifted her chin, forcing her to look into his face. She couldn't turn away, so instead, she focused on the long thin scar that ran from his temple to his jaw. She fixed on it, drawing strength from knowing he had once felt pain.

His power came down on her with ten times the force. She let out a low whine as her limbs began to fold down harder, forcing her knees and forehead towards the floor. She crumpled, and Sal's grip tightened on her wrist as he forced her arm and body in opposite directions.

"Please, my Lord!" Mama whispered as she stumbled forward, falling on her knees. "She's just a child! She meant no disrespect! She's tired from work is all!"

"I realize that. No need to be dramatic, Mika."
 

Sal plucked the pendant from Zeika's jerking fingers, and she felt her neck and back muscles contract as he forced her again to lift her gaze to him. Flipping the work-pass, Sal showed Zeika its back-side, which now read:

Work Pass Clearance:

ALL CIVIC DEMESNES.

Expiration Date:
 

60 DAYS.

Licensor:
 

LORD SALVATORE MORGAN,
 

PROFICIENT ALCHEMIST OF THE SECOND DEGREE.

The pass' expiration date had changed from 7 days to 60 days, and his signature glowed beneath it, still warm from its forced re-inscription.
 

"My dear. Your mother paid very well for this. Never snap at those who give you your daily bread. You may come to regret it." He tilted his head, smiling. "Safe travels to you." Then he released her. All of her.

Zeika wrenched away and scrambled backwards. Her heart hammered against her chest, breath whisked in and out of her in shallow rolls, but those numbing sensations couldn't match the crushing swells of hatred that surged as she watched Sal get up from their couch. He smoothed his collared shirt, grabbed his long coat, and tossed the work pass nonchalantly onto the table.

"Until next time, Mika." Then his gaze shifted down to Zeika, and he winked. "Ezekiel."

The door to their Quonset hut closed, and Mama turned to her, but Zeika barely noticed. She was still struggling to her feet and watching the door with a steady, roiling gaze. When she finally turned to face Mama, her dark expression sucked the remaining pleasantries out of the air.

"So you decided to skip the town meeting?" Zeika seethed. "Or did it just adjourn in our bedroom?"

"It's tax day," Mama murmured.
 

"Tax day. Right. Guess you and Baba are no longer filing jointly."

Mama's brows lifted, whether in surprise or indignation, Zeika couldn't tell. "I'm not in the mood for one of your spectacles, Ezekiel. It's getting old already."

"Tell me.
How
have you been paying for this?" Her eyes hard, she lifted the work pass to her mother. "Are you using the money me and Baba give you, or are you using something else?"

Mama looked at her for a long beat, but not a word came from her mouth. Not even when she turned away and tried to walk into the back.

Zeika staggered, her muscles aching. But she was still faster than her mother, and before Mama could disappear into the back, Zeika slid in front of her, blocking her way.
 

"Honey, I have to be to work in an hour. I really don't have time for this."

"Answer me!"

"I'm your
mother
--"

"Not when he had me on my knees you weren't. The least you can do after watching him humiliate me is answer my question."

Her eyes wide, Mama shook her head, at a loss. "I- I wasn't expecting you to be home this early. I'm sorry that you had to go through that, but aside from that, I don't know what to say."

Zeika felt the air rush out of her, hate filling her up. "You don't know what to say... Funny how a woman has nothing to say when she has an Azure dick in her mouth."

Her chin snapped to the right as Mama brought a hand across her face. Zeika's eyes went wild with shock as she put her fingers to her stinging cheek.
 

Mama then came in close and lifted a finger to her face, almost touching her nose. "Your time in the street has you smelling yourself. While you still walk this Earth and your asshole points to the ground, I am still your mother. You
will
respect me. Is that clear?"

Zeika pursed her lips, gazing at her. "You want respect... while you cuckold my father."

The anger in Mama's eyes extinguished into another emotion that Zeika couldn't place. "You can't cuckold the dead, Ezekiel."

"I can't believe you just said that," Zeika whispered. "He's
gone
, not-- he's out
there
! Every day! He breaks his back for US!"

"Zeika." Her mother approached her, her voice wavering. "Please understand. This isn't just for kicks. If I didn't, Sal would take three times more from all our incomes than he's taking now, and you wouldn't have a work pass at all. I'm doing this for our family--"

Zeika started shaking her head, and she put her face in her hands. "No."

"--for you and Manja!"

"No! You aren't doing this for us! There are plenty of things you could be doing for 'us', but you chose this! Why? You've refused to come down to the Forge every time I've asked you, and for what? You'd rather be
this
?! Sal's concubine?!"

"I can only give what I have in the ways that I can."

"I have asked you once, twice, a million times to come down with me to the Forge!"

"You think that in between commuting and slaving away in Demesne Six that I have time for that? You're living a pipe dream, Zeika. Do you understand that? Those little side jobs you work don't pay the bills. The money I get from the factory and from Sal, on the other hand, does."

Zeika had to tighten her jaw in order to keep from saying it. Her mind flew to the three grand in the jar, hidden in the Earth, but for the sake of keeping those savings full, she had to keep quiet. Mama had bad habits... and the last time Zeika had told her where their savings were, it had cost them big.

"I'm not doing this with you right now," Zeika said finally. "We're leaving. We'll be back soon."

"You're not taking her with you. We both know that it's too risky. Guild Five is too risky."

"I don't have a choice. She's bleeding into her knees again. I need to treat her, now, and the only place I can do that is at the Guild. They have what we need, so that's where we're going."

"Sal is already suspicious of them. The entire Alchemic Order is."

"I don't care what Sal
or
the Cabal are suspicious of, and I'm tired of dancing around them and their paranoia. Where else am I going to get supplies for Manja?"

"Caution is the path of wisdom."

"It's also the path of cowardice. Did caution matter for our livelihood? For Baba? For you?" Zeika's jaw quivered with anger as she forced the words out. "Did it matter for Johnny?"

"Zeika, Sal had nothing to do with--"

"That's garbage, and you know it."

"You're emotional. I know it's hard, but you can't take your anger out on Sal. For all our sakes, you need to reign it in, do you understand? If you truly care about our family's safety-- Manja's safety-- you need to deal with your loss--"

"I didn't lose anything. Sal took him from me."

Mama reached out to touch her, but Zeika brushed her off.

"Please," Mama pleaded. "Let me. You never let me in." Her eyes were soft and warm, rising above their dull-cow coma. Zeika wanted to take in her useless pity, be held in a empty embrace, hear powerless words of soothing. But there was nothing Mama could do to make anything better, not unless she could bring Johnny back. Not unless she could save Manja. She felt herself harden at the thought.

"You can tap dance to Sal's tune all you want," she said. "But he couldn't care less about you, about me, about Manja. He thinks we're a house of whores, and it's disgusting. Sell your ass all you like, but leave us out of it. Leave
her
out of it."

A small shuffle brought both Mama and Zeika back to the bedroom door. Manja was standing there, her knee wrapped in the icepack and her dino bag full and strapped to her back. Her hair stuffed underneath a silky black scarf, she yawned and rubbed her eyes. Zeika and Mama exchanged glances, and just like that, anger swept out of the cracks of the room as quickly as it had entered.

"Sorry, Zeeky," Manja murmured. "I was doing
salat
, and..." She smiled sheepishly. She had fallen asleep during prayer.

Mama's face softened. "We're sorry, sweetheart. We didn't mean to wake you. Did you... hear us?"

"No, it's okay, Mommy. I did all my prayers deep like Daddy said to."
 

Zeika kicked herself, feeling bad that she had forgotten. After dark and until dusk, Isha'a was the only prayer amongst the Islamic rites that could be done, and for Manja, that came before all else. Zeika had been long out of practice herself, but even
she
knew to keep quiet during Isha'a. It was disrespectful to do otherwise. But luckily, Manja didn't seem to have noticed.
 

With a practiced deference, Manja carefully slid the hijab off of her head, folded it, and put it into her bag.

"Ready?" Zeika asked.

The girl nodded, raising her arms to be picked up. Zeika moved to get her, but Mama grabbed her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. Her strength was surprising, and Zeika tensed, ready to throw off her grip if necessary. They looked at each other; then, Mama's eyes trailed down to Manja's knee. Finally, she let Zeika's shoulder go.

"Take care of her," she said. "And be careful."

Zeika collected her sister, hoisting her weight on her back and tying her in. They left, and she never looked her mother in the eye, never bade her farewell as she and Manja stepped back out into the world. Instead, she forced a stern gaze forward through a haze of burning, unshed tears and kept her eyes on the road.