The Dawn of Dae (Dae Portals Book 1) (10 page)

They had been a symbol of hope and survival for most who wanted to be something more than grunt labor for the wealthy. The parks had been something even the elite didn’t dare take away. When my parents had died, I had found refuge beneath those trees.

It had also been where I had been tumbled head-first into the black market world of Baltimore. Without those trees, I might have never met Kenneth Smith.

I hated my ignorance almost as much as I hated watching my home burn. Grabbing the remote, I turned off the television and went to work on my tablet. Once upon a time, the internet had been an open method of communication, but with the restrictions on who could learn how to read and write, it had become little more than a graveyard. The infrastructure remained intact—somewhat.

The original internet was a tidbit of history the government didn’t want anyone to know about. Before the crackdown and development of the caste system, people had been far freer, able to share ideas, information, and knowledge across borders. It had taken a little less than a year for the government to tear the internet down and begin controlling the way information flowed. Fortunately, they couldn’t watch everything.

Unfortunately, they didn’t need to. It didn’t take me very long to learn the chaos in the streets of Baltimore affected the rest of the world. The United Nations called the event the Dawn of Dae, and no nation had avoided it. It had begun in the eastern United States and swept its way across the rest of the planet. No one knew what caused it—most didn’t care.

Unlike the President, the White House’s official website contained information worth reading. While the government didn’t know what the dae were, everyone supposedly had one—or would have one soon enough.

Someone had even managed to set up a checklist of symptoms to identify the newly bonded, although I had my doubts regarding its accuracy.

Some dae manifested as new people. Others changed existing people into new ones, like the pink-winged werewolf. Shifters were marked as internalized dae, or humans who had transformed under the first light of the dawning.

Apparently, having knowledge of what the dae were indicated a bond with one, which supported what I had seen at the college and on the streets. Those without dae—the unawakened—were at a major disadvantage. I wrinkled my nose.

I’d bet everything I owned the unawakened, like me, would be shunted to the lowest castes within a couple of days. Unless I was reading the White House’s statements incorrectly, those bonded—especially to the more desirable dae—were looking at an immediate elevation to the elite rankings.

I groaned when I realized these individuals would be asked to report to the colleges for evaluation, which meant I’d get a front row seat to the chaos the next day. As an unawakened, would I lose my spot as a Bach student?

I had that sort of rotten, miserable luck. Groaning, I delved deeper into the available data. Unless I knew what I was dealing with, I’d be in a lot of trouble.

The fact there were two types of dae interested me. Shifters were the obvious internalized dae while external dae could manifest as almost anything, but kept company with their bonded humans.

Did the external dae disappear if their bonded humans died? If anyone knew, it wasn’t listed anywhere I could find.

The White House had no information on any variants of internal or external dae, only a note they existed, which left me wondering what the world had come to—and reevaluating whether or not we were all afflicted by some global hallucinogen. Narcotics, at least,
made sense.

People mystically turning into pink-winged werewolves, three-headed miniature giraffes with nifty British accents, and flame-breathing dragons made no sense. Science couldn’t explain it. All things considered, would scientists even
try
to make sense of it?

If anything, the United States would begin categorizing the dae, finding the strongest, and bringing them into the ranks of the military to ensure they didn’t lose power on a global level. I grimaced.

The destruction in Baltimore was all I needed to see to understand the dae would have military use—and the United States wouldn’t hesitate to harness that power.

I turned my tablet off, setting it on my coffee table. “I’m starting to believe that the more I figure out, the less I actually know, Colby.”

“Mommy,” my sentient macaroni and cheese agreed.

A unicorn chose that moment to step out of my refrigerator. I stared at it, and it stared back at me. I had always thought unicorns would be white and shining with a pearly horn.

The one in my kitchen was golden, the color of the noon-day sun. While it did have a horn, it was made of metal and had holes in the sides, making me wonder if I could play it like an instrument. Its slitted eyes were sky blue with deep green pupils.

All I could think of was an old, old book, one I had sneaked peeks at in an illegal library while sniffing out information for Kenneth. It had been a tale for children, one banned by the government for some crime or another—probably for offering hope there was a rabbit hole one could tumble down and find a brave new world, one full of magic and wonder.

Maybe the government had been right; it had made me wonder, so much so I still remembered the words printed on the page years later. Unable to help myself, I blurted, “Do you know, I always thought unicorns were fabulous monsters, too? I never saw one alive before.”

The unicorn lifted its hoof and set it down on the freshly cleaned tiles. Instead of the thump or clatter I expected, it tinkled, like wind chimes caught in a gentle breeze. It trotted to the front door of my apartment, flicking its long, cat-like tail at me. Instead of a tuft of fur at the tip, it had a rainbow of feathers, which it fanned out for me.

Regarding me solemnly, it said, “Well, now that we’ve seen each other, if you believe in me, I’ll believe in you.”

The unicorn left, although I had no idea how it opened my door without the use of hands. For a long time, I could only stare at where it had been. When I stood, my legs shook beneath me. I crossed my apartment to the door and tested the knob. It was still locked.

At my feet was a single golden feather, and when I picked it up, it was as warm as the midday sun. I twirled it between my fingers and wondered what to believe.

The President addressed the nation the next morning. Someone had taken the time to write him a proper speech, which he recited in a mind-numbing monotone. He detailed a plan of action, which boiled down to a plea to avoid killing each other and offer aid within their communities in any way possible. I learned nothing new about the dae.

“You’d figure
someone
would know what is going on,” I complained to Colby, getting up from the couch to browse through the refrigerator. The novelty of having a choice of foods hadn’t worn off, and while I could have survived on bacon alone, I chose fruit instead. Once again, I fed Colby a selection of cheeses and milk.

Before I reported to the college, I wanted to have at least some idea of what I would have to deal with for the near future. Creatures capable of breathing flame and eating dragons wouldn’t view me as much of a challenge.

My ability to learn about the dae and work around them would make or break me. I had the unsettling feeling if I screwed up, even once, I’d end up just like Terry Moore, a snack for a werewolf—or worse.

I went to work on my tablet, detailing the types of dae I had already seen while speculating on their classification. The pink-winged werewolf, Terry Moore, and the vampire were likely internalized dae. Kenneth, on the other hand, had been with someone who had appeared human.

I suspected his dae was an external type, and one of the dangerous ones, too—if the vampire was to be believed. After meeting a unicorn capable of quoting Lewis Carroll, I was about ready to believe anything.

In a little over twenty-four hours, everything had changed—except for me. I was still strange Alexa Daegberht, an orphan with an allergy to people. Maybe I didn’t need to change to fit right in with a society of weirdos.

It put me at a hell of a disadvantage, though. How was I supposed to survive—let alone get ahead—when I couldn’t fly, breathe flame, or turn into a bat? I chomped on my fruit, considering Colby with narrowed eyes.

My macaroni and cheese was busy bouncing around the living room, armed with a sponge, in search of something to clean. I still hadn’t figured out how it held the sponge or wandered around without getting cheese all over everything.

“Colby, are you
my
dae?” I asked, wondering if I simply hadn’t manifested any of the symptoms listed on the White House website.

“Mommy,” Colby replied, its tone full of scorn. It stopped what it was doing, and I shivered at the sensation of it somehow glaring at me despite its lack of eyes.

“I’ll take that as a no. Fine, then. If you aren’t my dae, where did you come from?”

Colby sighed. That macaroni and cheese could sigh in the first place took me by surprise. Tossing the sponge onto the coffee table, Colby hopped to the refrigerator and bounced against it.

“Yes, I’m aware you came out of my refrigerator. I put you there. You were supposed to be a week’s worth of dinner before you became a living thing. But how? Why? What I’d really like to know is why a man and a freaking unicorn came out of my refrigerator. Are they dae?”

“Mommy.”

I sighed, grabbed two sheets of paper, and wrote yes on one and no on the other. I set them on the floor next to Colby. “Okay. I’m going to ask you some yes or no questions. If you want to tell me yes, hop onto this sheet of paper. If you want to tell me no, hop onto this one.”

“Mommy!”

I decided Colby agreed to make myself feel better, took a step back, and drew a deep breath. “Are you a dae?”

Maybe my idea had some merit, because Colby hopped onto the sheet of paper indicating yes.

“Are you my dae?”

Colby hopped to the other sheet of paper.

My next question scared me, but if I didn’t ask, I’d never find out. “Do I have a dae?”

Instead of picking one sheet of paper, Colby bounced between the two in a frantic dance.

“You’re not sure?”

Colby answered no. I frowned. “You are sure?”

When Colby answered yes, I was tempted by the idea of kicking my macaroni and cheese into next week. How could I have a dae but not have a dae? It made no sense to me. Forcing myself to take several calming breaths, I considered the problem—and how my question could have two answers.

“Do I have a dae, but in a way different from most people?”

After a moment of hesitation, Colby mostly slid off the paper, leaving me to once again wonder what it meant. “I don’t have a dae, but I associate with them? Like I do with you?”

Colby plopped onto the sheet of paper labeled yes and squealed, “Mommy!”

Great. If Colby was right, not only didn’t I have a dae of my own, but I’d be neck deep in dealing with them, like it or not.

“Do you have a human?”

Once again, Colby did its frantic dance between the two sheets of paper.

“So you’re like me, you don’t have a human, but you associate with them.”

“Mommy!” Colby settled on the piece of paper with yes written on it.

“Thanks, Colby.”

When I had a chance to really think things through, I’d ask Colby more questions. I laughed at the thought of my macaroni and cheese being more helpful than the President of the United States and shook my head at how crazy the world had become in the course of a single day.

Chapter Seven

Considering the circumstances, a smart woman would have remained hidden in the safety of her apartment. I liked to believe I was smart, but I got dressed, grabbed the list of names the dean had given me, pocketed some of my cash and my gloves, dumped some bills on the counter for my refrigerator-filling benefactors to find, and left for the campus.

Since the President of the United States had announced the government’s intention to openly advance those with powerful dae to the upper castes, the college would be a madhouse—and a dangerous one at that. Without a dae of my own, would I be able to recognize who—or what—was an actual threat?