ORDER OF SEVEN (3 page)

He almost reaches me, but I bolt toward the fence and lose him, sticking my tongue out and taunting him. His face gets red with frustration. He walks to the rock towers we built by the porch and kicks mine over. I start to cry.

Nodin doubles over, my sadness saturating him. He stumbles to my side to console me and I punch him in the shoulder. It starts to rain as he returns to the rock piles and begins to rebuild mine.

I calm into sniffles and give him a tiny smile when he shows me my tower is now taller than his. He hangs his head in relief, rain dripping from the brim of his hat.

Behind him a young boy and girl stand in tattered, filthy clothes. They are sad for Nodin, and although Nodin and I are soaked, they are bone dry.

My eyes flutter open and I bolt upright, shocked. I’ve never seen that boy and girl in a vision or otherwise, yet I’m almost certain who they are. I need to talk to Nodin. I start to climb down when thunder rumbles in the distance.

I cherish storms. I collapse back against the branches just as cold rain begins pelting my skin and nature’s symphony starts its slow march across the sky.

•◊•◊•

Remnants of the energy tingle in my fingertips as the connection fades. It’s dark. I look at my wrist for the glowing numbers of my watch and realize it’s been almost two hours. Fatigue hangs off my bones like weights. I carefully climb down the slick tree.

Joe is waiting, as always, squinting with his head tilted. I follow him through the house without a word, the vision of the boy and girl still haunting me.

Joe is accustomed to my hasty exits. I’m often too spent to speak.

“You need a towel?” he asks, before opening the front door. He hands me my envelope.

I shake my head, whispering a quick thanks as I leave. I walk all the way to the curb before remembering I have no car. I reach in my damp jacket pocket for my cell and call Nodin.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Uh-huh.”

“You soaked?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you still want to come over tonight? I probably have clothes you can borrow. I guess I could take you home to change—”

“I’ll borrow.” I can’t stand being left out of anything. I’ve spent my life bound to the unpredictable calling, tethered to this tree, this town. I cling to Nodin’s friends and experiences like they are life rafts.

“Be there in a minute,” he says.

I hang up and sit with my head on my knees. Fifteen minutes later, he pulls up. I fold the envelope in half and slide it in my jacket pocket, then climb in the passenger seat, which he’s covered with a towel. Nodin, my brother, always ten steps ahead.

“You all right?” he asks.

“Better, thanks.”

“I brought you water.” He motions to a small bottle.

“Thanks.” I empty it in six gulps.

“You sure you’re up for hanging out tonight? You can come over tomorrow—”

“I’m fine. Did they get in okay?”

“Yeah, about an hour ago.”

“Cool.” I glance at him, his face going light then dark as we pass under streetlights. “I meant to tell you earlier, I’m diggin’ the scruff.”

Nodin runs his fingers through his goatee. “Do you? I wasn’t sure.”

“Definitely. It suits you.” I pause. “Are you gonna ask the redhead out? She seems to like you.”

“No,” he says, his jaw stiff. “We don’t really have much in common.”

Nodin has never had a girlfriend. Hell, he’s never even been on a date. He’s painfully shy, but more than that, I think he’s ashamed of his pale skin. When we were little, people used to ask if we were twins, but as I got older my hair turned more yellow and, although fair, I’m not nearly as pale. Poor Nodin with his near-white hair and papery skin. Years of teasing and torment chipped away at him, leaving a grown man who, even in the hottest summers, wears clothes that cover his arms and legs. He may hide behind feigned indifference, but I see the sadness behind his eyes.

I’m all too familiar with the toll loneliness takes. For this reason, I don’t resent him. I envy things about his life, but never resent.

“Nodin...I saw something tonight I need to talk to you about.” I pause and decide to go for it. “I think I saw Train and Emilet.” I peek over, gauging his reaction.

We never discuss his spirit guides. In fact, he hasn’t talked about them since he was little. For a while Mom and Dad thought Nodin’s
friends
were imaginary. Not uncommon for a child. In fact, they thought it was adorable Nodin always pulled a chair out for “Train” and pushed the swing for “Emilet.” Adorable until his one-sided conversations began to get suspiciously sophisticated for a five-year-old, and items out of his reach mysteriously ended up in his hands.

The proverbial last straw was when Mom witnessed Nodin sitting by himself on the kitchen floor, pushing a ball across the tile. The ball repeatedly stopped on the other side of the room and then rolled back to him. This is another reason it was so easy to keep my secret from Mom and Dad. They were so busy with Nodin, nothing I did even blipped their radars.

His jaw drops. “What do you mean you saw them?”

“In my vision. We were young, playing in the backyard together. A boy and girl stand just behind you. Both scrawny. Pale. Kind of sickly looking. Wore really bad clothes, all torn up and stuff.”

“Yeah, that’s them.” He stares straight ahead.

I remember hearing my parents whisper about how his guides must have been alive in the 1920s. A six-year-old Nodin had recounted details about the time period they lived in, details he couldn’t know. Shouldn’t know.

But Nodin had made it clear there was one subject therapists could not ask about: why and how Train and Emilet died so young.

“Why do they look like that?” I ask.

“Because they were orphans,” he whispers, so quiet I can barely hear him, “taken in when they were young by a train station manager. He let them stay in the station at night, fed them enough to keep them alive in exchange for work. The manager’s wife kept an eye on Emilet until she was old enough to also work. They were basically homeless.”

“Oh,” I say. “Is that why he’s called Train?”

“Train was five when the manager took them in. He wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t tell anyone his name, but he was fascinated with the trains, so that’s what they called him. Train told them his younger sister was named Emilet.”

“What happened to their parents?”

Nodin’s fingers grip the steering wheel. I know I’m forcing him to talk about things he doesn’t even like to think about. “Dr. Beckman thinks maybe their parents were too poor to feed them, not uncommon during the Depression. They probably thought their children had a better chance being rescued by people with more money, someone who would see them at the train station and take them in.”

I shudder at the horror of having to abandon my children to save them. “Are they with you always?”

“Pretty much.” He stares at the red light.

“Do you love them?” I ask. The light turns green, we accelerate.

“They’re a part of me,” he says, his voice hollow. Wooden.

I remember Nodin telling our parents Train and Emilet were related to us, although he couldn’t or wouldn’t articulate how. I want to ask him. I want to know how they died, and how they’re related to us, but I feel like I shouldn’t push him further. “Why do you think I saw them tonight?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” he says.

“You do? Why?”

“I need to talk to you about something. I should’ve brought it up before, but I wasn’t sure how. I’m sorry I have to dump this on you all at once.” He pulls into the parking lot of the grocery store right behind his apartment complex and parks.

I brace myself. “Dump what on me? What’s going on?”

Nodin hesitates and then it all comes out in single a burst. “Baron. I need to talk to you about him. The reason he’s never come here before. It’s because you two have deliberately been kept apart until now, beca—”

“What? Me and Baron?” I’m dumbstruck. “What the fu—”

“Just let me finish.” He holds his palms out toward me. “Baron is an extremely powerful energy worker, arguably the
most
powerful. You’re a rune with access to infinite energy. That’s why you couldn’t be around each other until you were older. Stronger. It would be like giving kids explosives to play with.”

A mixture of anger and excitement boil in my belly. I’ve never had a name for what I am. “What did you call me?”

“What do you mean?” He shifts in his seat.

“You know exactly what I mean. You called me something. A ra—”

“A rune,” he says. The glow of an overhead light illuminates his face, highlighting the sweat gleaming on his brow.

Hot tears blur my vision. “And what is the definition of a rune, Nodin?”
How long has he known?

“Someone who channels energy. You’re like a satellite dish. It comes to you, or you can summon it yourself. That’s really all I know.”

I think about my experiences with the tree and decide this is a disgustingly simplistic definition. “You’re saying what happens with the tree, that’s channeling? Like I’m getting energy from it?”

He looks me in the eyes. “No. Not from it. Through it. And not just any energy. All life energy.”

“Life energy? What does that mean?”

“It means the energy that makes you, Devi, and me, Nodin. The spark that makes life in all living things.”

“You mean...souls?” I grimace.

“No, not individual spirits. The energy that creates them. Like the spark that creates fire.”

My brain scrambles to make sense of this. “What else do you know? Why can I do that? What’s it for?” I’m hungry, no,
starving
, to understand my ability.

He looks down at his hands. “I don’t know anything else. I’m sorry.”

“That’s it? That’s all you can tell me?” I’m gritting my teeth so hard, I fear I will chip one. “Who? Who kept Baron and I separate all these years? You? Who knows what I am and what I do?” I try to keep a lid on the emotions surging underneath. I can’t overwhelm the
delicate empath
.

“Well...I...uh...I mean, that’s...”

“Just answer the question,” I say. “Who’s calling the shots?”

“Train and Emilet.” He sighs and looks down to his lap.

I put my head in my hands and try not to burst out in hysterical laughter. “Train and Emilet. That’s just perfect. Your ghost buddies tell you things about me, which you decide to keep to yourself, making my whole life a cave of darkness and secrecy.” Rage takes over and I dig my fingers into my scalp to keep from lunging at him.

All this time, all the isolation, the endless, pointless research and he could have told me. I could have met others like me. I could have a life. A purpose. I slam my fists on my knees. “Why do they care what I’m doing anyway? Tell them to mind their own goddam business. They’re guides to you, not me.”

His voice booms in our confined space, “Wrong.”

I snap my head up, shocked by his anger. Nodin deals with a veritable sea of emotions, and he’s an expert at keeping the waters calm.

“Train and Emilet aren’t here for me.” His pale skin flushes. “They never were. They’re here for you. I was just following orders. This hasn’t been pleasant for me, either. My whole life, I feel your anger, your sadness—do you know how easy it would’ve been to just tell you and end it?” He exhales slowly and lowers his voice. “They’re with me so I can protect you. I was forbidden to tell you anything, do you understand?
Forbidden.
”

I realize my mouth is open and snap it shut. I’ve been wallowing in my own shithole for so long, it never occurred to me Nodin might be in one. He’s probably been pining for days, wondering how to tell me all this. No wonder he looked so stressed. But I’m not ready to pity him just yet. “Protect me from what? Why use you? Why couldn’t they have been my guides?”

“Because then you would know what you are, and so would Mom and Dad, and friends, and therapists, and who knows who else.” He looks me in the eye. “That would make you vulnerable. Do you realize how many times I covered for you? How many times Mom worried you were depressed, or Dad wondered why you never went out with friends? I fixed that. I made them feel like nothing was out of the ordinary. No one could know anything, including you, until you’re old enough to have your knowledge hidden from seers.”

I throw my hands in the air and utter a half guffaw, half exasperated sigh. “My
knowledge hidden
? What does that even mean?”

“When you’re young, your mind can’t be blocked. It’s sporadic, unfocused and completely readable. When you’re older, someone can block you.”

“So I’m being blocked now?” I ask.

“Not yet.”

“Who’s going to block me? You?”

“I would, but I don’t have the ability. Only psychics with highly trained mind-control can block.”

“Who will do it then?”

He sighs and puts the Bronco back in drive. “Ben.”

“Ben?” I practically shriek. “Does he know about any of this already? Does Baron?”

“Yes. And yes.” He winces.

“Mother fuc—wait, do you know anything about the dream? Do you know what happened that night?”

“No,” he says. “I swear I don’t know anything about the dream. But I think we’re all about to learn a lot more.” He pulls into his apartment complex.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because Train and Emilet deliberately showed themselves to you today.” He glances my way, his face hard, eyes so intense that I freeze. “And they orchestrated this meeting tonight.”

Ice incases my spine. “Why now? What’s going on?”

He circles the parking lot of his apartment for a spot. “Because it’s time,” he says at last.

“For what?” I whisper.

“I wish I knew.” He parks the Bronco and looks at me. “You up for this?”

“Absofuckinglutely.”

No way will I miss out on meeting Baron, not after spirits have spent two-thirds of my life keeping us apart. This is just getting interesting. And finally,
finally
, I might get some answers. I follow Nodin upstairs, shivering as the fall breeze blows against my cold, wet clothes.

•◊
4
ץ

THE ARC