But it hadn’t taken Gideon long to realize that hiding from his mother (and her employers) was far more easily said than done.
“Ah, yes,” Parisa murmured to herself, “I suppose his abilities would be easily monetized. Plenty of people would pay to take ownership of something in a dream if they knew such power existed.” She stared off for a moment, thinking. “So what exactly is it you’re looking for in the archives?”
Confessing t
he truth was something of a difficulty, but it didn’t seem worth keeping to himself. If anyone was going to be able to help him—or to have no particular agenda in knowing what he knew—Nico supposed it was Parisa.
“What he is, I suppose,” Nico admitted. “What his powers are. What his life span is. Whether anyone has ever existed like him before.” A pause. “That sort of thing.”
“He craves a species, I take it?”
“In a sense.”
“Pity,” she said. “Very human of him, to long for a collective.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Nico had a feeling Parisa was in her own thoughts rather than his at the moment, which was an interesting observation. She seemed to revolve within a solitary orbit, the energy in the room suddenly collecting around her in tendrils of curiosity rather than expelling outward, as other people’s contemplation tended to do.
“You should have something,” Parisa said after a moment. “A talisman to carry with you.”
Nico blinked, looking up. “What?”
“Something to keep with you. Something you keep secret. So that you know where you are,” she explained, “and whether you exist on a plane of reality. Your friend Gideon should carry one, too.”
“Why?”
Nico stared in puzzlement as Parisa rose to her feet, stretching languidly.
“Well, you haven’t identified it yet, but the reason you can’t let go of what you saw inside your head is because you didn’t know you were inside it.” She turned to look at him, half-smiling. “It’s a favor, Nico. You ought to have a talisman. Find one and keep it with you, and then you’ll never have to wonder what’s real.”
She turned to leave, expressing every intention to exit the room without further discussion, but Nico leapt to his feet, catching her arm to pause her.
“You don’t think Callum would really hurt you, do you?” he asked, his voice more urgent than he would have preferred it to be. An hour before, even five minutes ago, he would never have attempted such a spectacular display of vulnerability, but now he needed to know. “In real life, I mean. In actuality. Whatever that means.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly in calculation.
“Doesn’t matter,” she said, and turned away, but Nico tugged her back, imploring her.
“How can it not matter? You can see inside his head, Parisa. I can’t.” He released her, but kept the pull of conspiracy between them. “Please. Just tell me what he really is.”
For a moment when she looked at him, Nico thought he saw uncharacteristic evidence of tension in Parisa’s face. Vestiges of a secret soon to be known; a truth wanting out. She made the decision in the second her eyes met his, but even with the improbability of the conversation they’d just had, he couldn’t have prepared himself for how her answer would shake him.
“It doesn’t matter whether Callum plans to hurt me,” she said, “because I’ll kill him before he does.”
Then Parisa had leaned closer and said something that Nico had taken like a blow, still reeling even after hours had passed.
“What is it?” Reina asked again, startling him back to their conversation. She was normally comfortable without speaking, but presumably he had been silent for too long.
Nico tugged at a blade of grass, plucking it free. He wondered if Reina could hear it scream when he did so, and flinched at the reminder that the universe had some voice he couldn’t hear. Another detail among many he couldn’t un-know. A blissful piece of foregone ignorance, belonging to a person he would never be again.
“Would you kill someone to have all of this?” he muttered to Reina, though he regretted having asked the question as soon as it fell out of his mouth. Would she ask him why, and would he be able to answer if she did?
But he needn’t have worried. She didn’t even spare a breath.
“Yes,” she said, and closed her eyes, warming silently in the grass.
VII: INTENT
REINA