Chaos Calling, page 28
“Chief,” one of the officers behind Henry says, “you can’t just let them waltz out of here.”
“They’re not under arrest,” Henry says curtly before turning back to Dave. “Do what you can in Sudbury, but this situation will get bigger than police fast, Davy. Once the military gets fully involved, my ability to help will be limited.”
“Keep my name out of the press for now, please. You can do that.” His dad’s distress burns in Dave’s head, but he pushes it away as he lets Jenna haul him from the room.
Jason! he shouts, picturing his friend. We need your help!
Chapter 30
Anna — Twins
Toronto, ON: Thursday, August 21
The skyworm’s tentacle jabs at Anna’s stomach, twisting as it seeks purchase. She rolls, xhen shining around her fingers, and—
—wakes, panting and sweating, in a strange room. Her hands are balled around the bedsheets as though ready to wring a neck. It was a dream. The skyworms are dead. You’re safe. Anna forces her fingers to unclench as she slowly recognizes her surroundings: the guest room in her parents’ house. Her stomach growls. You’re just hungry. Again.
By the pale golden light streaming through the east-facing window, Anna guesses it’s morning. Are the kids still with Sarita? Did they eat anything for dinner? I should text Walter and make sure he’s all right, too, she thinks, and then remembers that he has both her purse and her phone. Shit. Okay. Time to get up.
Yet Anna doesn’t rise. A night’s sleep has not healed the cost that victory burned into her head. Three pitted places throb inside her, although with less intensity than before she slept. Malcolm was right. I wasn’t up to speaking to anyone after that fight.
She wraps her memories of Brenda, Raymond, and Krista with the gratitude they deserve and tucks them away to focus on three brighter clusters, one large and two noticeably smaller. Did they grow while I rested? she wonders. By their gentle fuzzing, she surmises that Malcolm, Nina, and Carl are close. Two new tarkan, she thinks. What brought them to that battlefield? How many more will join us before this is over?
Wary of that answer, Anna swings her legs out of bed. Her filthy clothes are gone, replaced by shorts and one of the threadbare T-shirts she keeps here to wear when working on the house. She rises slowly, but nothing hurts. It’s like the skyworms never injured me.
Her eyes drift across the room, which also served as her mother’s study. Unlike the rest of the house, it’s not packed with cardboard boxes. There’d been so much to do that it had been easy to leave Chun-Mei’s sanctuary intact. Most things are still where her mother last placed them. The antique chest of drawers faces the bed, beside an expensive office chair and a simple glass-topped desk. There, Chun-Mei indulged in her joint passions for photography and meticulously planning her gardens. Framed photos of her roses hang on the walls, though one spot is blank, marking the photo Jason took for his office.
Anna’s eye is drawn to the lush green panorama taken from the top of the Great Wall of China. Erik had booked the family trip as a surprise for Chun-Mei the year of their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, the same year Anna and Jason graduated from high school. Our only visit there as a family, she thinks, touching the photo’s frame with a fingertip. After losing Kalos and xhen that winter, she’d been eager to find a new anchor.
They’d landed in Hong Kong and spent a few days exploring the island before traveling to Kaiping, the city in Guangdong Province where Chun-Mei’s parents had lived. In preparation for their visit, Chun-Mei had exchanged letters and emails with cousins and family friends whom she, born in Vancouver after the Lins immigrated to Canada, hadn’t seen in years.
Their relations had nevertheless graciously toured them through the city, pointing out changed or vanished landmarks. They saw the house where her Uncle Felix had been born, and a cemetery where several generations of their family rested. Anna had wished she could follow their relatives’ conversations with her mother, which either flowed too quickly for her Cantonese or were conducted in their local dialect, Taishanese, which she couldn’t understand. She had fond memories of the delicious food served at several large dinners held in their honour. Yet, as the visit stretched on, she felt increasingly disconnected.
That feeling intensified after they flew to Beijing for the second week of their trip. They’d seen the Great Wall and many other tourist sites, which had been impressive and beautiful. But standing in the crowds, conspicuous as a foreigner the moment she opened her mouth, Anna felt she could have been any Canadian tourist wandering through the stone ruins and modern cities. She’d been reminded at every turn—by her clothes, by her clumsy Cantonese, by the half-understood comments that her mother’s relatives whispered when they thought she couldn’t overhear—exactly how foreign she was.
After they flew home, Anna had stubbornly kept looking for something to help her understand who she was without xhen. She’d chased it through her undergraduate studies at the University of Toronto, convinced that if she knew more about Kalos or the languages and religions of Ancient Greece and Turkey, she would find the answers she craved. She’d worked hard at her studies and joined clubs for Asian students on campus. It had been fun and rewarding, but nothing had filled the gap left first by xhen and Kalos, and then by Jason.
Her father, pleased with her excellent grades, hadn’t noticed. Chun-Mei had. Shortly after Anna’s graduation with an Honours Bachelor of Arts in Classical Studies, she’d taken Anna for tea at the Windsor Arms Hotel. Anna, contemplating a master’s degree or a PhD, had expected her mother to encourage her academic ambitions, like she’d encouraged Jason’s pursuit of medicine. But that hadn’t been on Chun-Mei’s mind.
Dusty books won’t satisfy you, her mother had said. You should get a job. Make some money. Get serious about that police officer who’s tied up our phone line every night for the past year. I want to be a grandmother before I die.
They’d argued, of course. Anna vividly remembers storming out of the fancy tearoom, her vision practically black with rage. Unable to bear her mother’s meddling, she’d still moved in with an elated Malcolm that fall. She’d downloaded applications to a dozen prestigious grad schools but had never gotten around to completing them. A friend from the Chinese Students and Scholars Association had suggested she take a realty course. One thing led to another.
Five years later, Anna had found herself married with a baby on the way and xhen a fading memory. You were right about a lot, Mom. What I wouldn’t give to talk to you about my problems now.
Anna’s stomach growls. As she turns to leave, she catches sight of the framed family photos clustered over the bed: her parents’ wedding, her wedding to Malcolm, Jason’s wedding to Margo, and baby pictures of Tim and Erin. There are school portraits of both twins, too, marking their graduations from high school and university, plus Jason’s extra one from medical school. But Anna only has eyes for the enlarged snapshot in the center of the arrangement, taken during Christmas break six months before that trip to China.
In the picture, her parents sit on the sofa in the den of the Dovercourt house beside the Christmas tree. Anna and Jason are seated on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table. She’s got an eyebrow raised, refusing to smile, while Jason smirks. Behind them, Dave sprawls across her parents’ laps, his gangly legs hanging off the end of the sofa. He’s got his head propped up on one bent arm, grinning at the camera like a madman. Her dad’s eyes sparkle, his pale skin flushed a darker red than his cable knit sweater. Beside him, her hand tucked around her husband’s arm, Chun-Mei has her head thrown back in laughter.
Anna touches a finger to her mother’s face. She had such a great laugh. God, we all look so young. And so happy, even if I was refusing to smile. Anna studies the image, wishing she could reach into the frame and spare herself years of heartbreak. Kalos vanished mere weeks after that Christmas, ending their training and beginning her decade-long feud with Jason. Depression, Anna thinks, looking into her past self’s bright eyes. I was depressed for so long after that. I thought xhen was gone forever.
There’s a soft knock at the door. For a hair’s breadth, Anna hopes it’s her mother. Loss subsumes her again, fresh as a knife cut. She exhales. Steels herself. “Come in.”
Jason enters wearing clean hospital scrubs. He’s showered and shaved, but his dark eyes still have that haunted, hollow look. His handsome face isn’t identical to Anna’s, but looking at him is always like looking into a mirror: familiar and backwards.
He came home, she thinks, grateful for his firepower if not his presence. She takes a half step toward him, knowing she should offer the true welcome his return deserves. But his guarded expression stops her. She lets her hands fall to her sides. “Hey.”
“Malcolm said you were up. Hungry?” When she nods, Jason offers her a granola bar. “It’s the last one.” He puts his hands in the pockets of the scrubs. “There’s nothing much to eat downstairs. We’re going to order something.”
“Good idea.” Her brother nods, his gaze drifting to the photographs over the bed. When did we get so awkward? Anna wonders, turning so that they stand side by side, contemplating their younger faces. “What time is it? Is Dave back? Did Malcolm get the kids last night?”
“After seven,” Jason tells her, yawning. “Dave’s still downtown waiting for his dad.” His voice is even, but the way he continues to examine the pictures without looking at her pings a subconscious alarm bell. “The kids are here.”
“Tell me now,” Anna says, more sharply than she intends. “Whatever it is that you think will upset me.” He swallows. “Is it the kids?” Another pang seizes her stomach, and her next words crack like a whip. “Did something happen to them?”
“No. Would you relax?” But he takes a deep breath.
Anna knuckles her hands, fighting the childish urge to beat the answer out of him as she frequently did when they were in grade school.
“Let me start at the beginning.” He sounds like their father at his most pedantic.
Anna grits her teeth, forcing herself to be patient.
“You’ve been declared a person of interest in the attacks. There’s a fleet of police cars and news trucks outside your house.”
Anna blinks. “Already?”
“Malcolm wanted Tim and Erin with us after that,” Jason continues.
Anna nods. Tension knots her hungry belly, itching for release.
“I picked them up. Don’t worry,” he adds. “I was discreet. No one saw anything. They were perfectly safe. And then Dad told us about—”
Her minds races ahead. Discreet? Why would he think I’d be worried about . . .? The phrase echoes in her ears, its meaning nearly lost until the answer breaks, wide as a gulf of storm-whipped water. “No one saw what?”
“Huh?” He frowns, flummoxed by her interruption. “Oh. The, uh, the portal.”
Xhen springs into Anna’s hands; her leash bathes the room in blue light. “You used xhen in front of my kids?!”
Jason backs toward the wall, purple-black shadows forming around his body. Instincts honed by old exercises and yesterday’s strain kick in, and the air crackles with anger—hers and his. In the back of Anna’s head, the pinpoint presences of her tarkan stir with alarm as she snaps a leash. Jason ducks. Blue energy streaks past his shoulder, knocking against the wall of pictures. Their shining faces bounce from their nails to fall with a smash. Her second leash pins Jason’s arms to his sides. “What were you thinking?”
“You were asleep for twelve hours!” Jason shouts. Darkness intensifies in the room, snapping her leash. The force of the break shoves her into the opposite wall. Beneath her splayed fingers, drywall cracks. Air shimmers around her as Jason’s xhen forms a cloud around his body. Geometric shapes appear and disappear in its murky depths. “What were we supposed to do? Waste time crossing the city? Get caught in some police blockade? It was fast. No one saw us. It’s fine.” Except for you, his expression says. You and your endless drama.
“How’d you explain it?” The fizzing in her head intensifies. Downstairs, she hears footsteps. I should stop. But yelling feels too good. “How did you explain xhen to my children, Jay?”
“I didn’t.” His voice would make ice cubes in a hot oven as his xhen flashes like an angry strobe light beneath her brighter blue. “I told them it was top secret and that you would tell them all about it when you woke up.”
“Oh.” Humiliation crests, rendering Anna’s anger inert. “Thanks.” She releases xhen, feeling impossibly small. Jason’s face is impassive as his xhen vanishes. Anna heaves a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “You always are when you’ve had time to think.”
Anger washes over her in a second hot wave. “You’re so condescending—”
“Come off the high horse,” he snaps. “You’ve had four days to absorb what’s happened.”
“You did, too! You just didn’t want to believe me.”
Jason’s laugh is bitter. “One of those things ripped an airplane apart to get to me. I nearly died. I think some of the passengers did die. If Kalos hadn’t been there, we’d all be—”
“Kalos?” Anna freezes. Of course, she thinks, mentally kicking herself. How else did he learn how to make portals? “A skyworm attacked your plane?”
“That’s what I said.”
“No wonder you looked so shitty at Queen’s Park.”
He shrugs.
Anna’s regret deepens, flushing her cheeks. “Damn, Jay. I would have died of fright.”
“No.” Her brother’s voice is unreadable. “That’s the last thing you would have done.”
Before she can ask him to explain, the bedroom door flies open. Malcolm takes in the jostled furniture, broken pictures, and cracked wall. He turns to Anna, his look of disgust perfectly matching the irritated fizz in her skull. “Whatever you’re fighting about is over.” He shoves a broom at her and tosses a dustpan to Jason. “There are two children downstairs who don’t understand why they couldn’t sleep at their own house last night, let alone why their mother’s shouting at their uncle. Or why their grandfather’s sitting at the kitchen table looking like their grandmother just died all over again.”
Anna looks up sharply at the mention of her father.
Malcolm’s hard eyes meet hers. “While you slept, I tried to explain this whole tarkan thing to Nina and Carl. They’ve got lots of questions.” His angry gaze shifts to Jason. “You need to understand that they were ready to charge up here and kick your ass into next week after this little spat. So all this bullshit”—he waves a hand in their general direction—“stops now.”
After a moment, the twins nod.
“Food will be here in ten,” Malcolm says. “Clean this mess up and join us.” The door closes.
“Now I know how Tim and Erin feel,” Anna murmurs. She cocks her head at her brother. “What happened with Dad?”
Irritation washes over Jason’s face. “That’s what I was trying to tell you before you flew off the handle.” He raises his hands in a mollifying gesture. “I wasn’t trying to set you off.”
Anna clamps down on her anger. “I’m listening.”
Jason talks as they clean. This time, Anna doesn’t interrupt. He tells her about the airplane attack, finishing with their father’s revelation in the living room the previous night.
When he’s finished, Anna sits on the bed. As her twin hangs a few of the photos back up, she props her elbows on her knees and lets her head fall into her open palms, her mind reeling. “Mom must have been Xenthian, too. It’s the only explanation.” The idea feels impossible even as she says it. It’d be easier to believe she was a spy or had a second family somewhere. “It doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t we have known? We lived in the same house all through our training.”
Her brother shrugs. “Maybe she was better at hiding xhen than we were at sensing it.”
Anna frowns. “What did she tell Dad, exactly?”
“He’s in shock. Nothing he said was all that coherent . . .”
Anna looks up as her brother’s voice trails off. Jason’s holding her high school graduation frame. “Anna,” he says in a strained voice. “There’s an envelope.” He turns it over. “Look.”
Anna’s off the bed like a shot, clutching the ivory envelope with shaking hands. It’s the size of a thank-you card. anna, it reads in her mother’s beautiful penmanship. “Look at your photo,” she says hoarsely. You were her favourite. “There must be one for you, too.”
Carefully, he picks up his picture. jason, reads the waiting envelope. He takes her place on the bed, opening Chun-Mei’s letter with the care of a man defusing a bomb. Anna takes the office chair, swiveling her back to him to give them both privacy as she slides a finger under the envelope’s flap. Instead of a card, she finds a folded piece of double-lined paper, crammed with her mother’s elegant script. Cold prickles down her back as she reads.
Dear Anna,
You read this letter as the victor of the first skyworm attacks in their next invasion cycle. I salute your courage, Xenthian to Xenthian.
We moved to Ottawa when I was four, as you know. I was twelve when my mind opened to xhen. It was an unnerving experience that I dismissed at first. But I continued to have visions. At fourteen, I encountered Kalos and began training. I know now that my grandmother, Huilang, was also Xenthian, as were her mother, Jingfei, my great-great-uncle Jian, and great-great-grandmother Mei. Our strength flows from them. I have needed it in these last days of my illness and many years ago during the first months of your training. Watching you and Jason come into your power without interfering was the hardest challenge Kalos ever set for me.
I have never doubted that it was the right choice. Xenthians must be free to form triads. Our use of xhen, however, varies as widely as the colours of the energy we draw. Mine is the shade of a tangerine; my gift is foresight. From the beginning, I knew that while Kalos would train me for war, I would never fight one. The brunt of our family’s duty falls to you, my twin children, and comes after my death. My life’s purpose has been to prepare you and Jason to meet your future.
