Dreams of the Golden Age (Golden Age 2)

“She’s the one,” her partner answered.

The one what? Celia thought. Who am I? Filled with vague fear, she lost consciousness.

EIGHTEEN

ANNA got home from scho

ol and sprawled on the living room sofa to do her homework. To try to do her homework, rather. So. She and Mom were going to Have a Talk. Because Mom knew about Espionage and the Trinity, and Anna knew she knew, and everything else was pretense. Anna strategized the conversation, trying to figure out what she’d say. How she’d explain why she hid her powers. In hindsight, her reasons seemed mostly stupid. She hoped her mother would understand. Of course, if Anna could ask her why she lied about the business trip first, get in a preemptive strike that way …

Or maybe they could just have a talk.

Mostly, she stayed in the living room to get away from Bethy, who kept studying her like she was a bug pinned under glass. Anna would have to come clean to her, too. And Grandma. Maybe she could get Dad to tell everyone. She threw her pencil across the room out of frustration.

Dad was in his office, Mom was still at the courthouse, so she opened up her math text and tried to focus. She wasn’t entirely successful, but that was mostly algebra’s fault. And it seemed like Mom really should have been home by now, so she checked in on her—

Shoved the book away as she stood up and went to the window, as if she could look out over the city, the streets, the tiny little figures walking on the sidewalk far below, the toy cars driving on streets, and pick out which one was her mother. Because her mother was gone. She couldn’t find her.

Anna put her hands on her temples, squeezed, as if the problem was with herself, as if she could fix herself by wishing. But no, she could find Bethy, her grandmother, her father, Teddy, Teia, everybody except Mom, and that wasn’t right. It was a giant gaping hole that filled her mind at the expense of every other thought. That mental compass needle spun wildly, its pressure gone.

She didn’t know where her mother was. How could she not know?

A sudden bout of dizziness struck, and she sat on the floor, closed her eyes. The whole building seemed to be swaying. The whole world was swaying. She didn’t know how to make it stop. She just kept thinking of Mom, every thought and every memory she had, the good feelings and bad, all wrapped up together, and sent it out into the world to find her.

But she was gone. Vanished. Anna couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know what else to do, so she yelled, “Bethy! Beth! Something’s wrong! Beth!” Screaming, almost.

Down the penthouse hallway, a bedroom door slammed open and Bethy came running to the living room. “Geez, Anna, why’re you freaking out?”

But she stopped, and her eyes went wide when she saw Anna curled up on the floor, arms around her head, gasping for breath that wouldn’t come.

“Anna. Anna, what’s wrong?” She sat on the floor, very close, but her hands were clasped together and she wouldn’t touch her sister.

“Mom’s gone, she’s gone,” Anna said, choking, trying to catch her hyperventilating breath.

Her father was coming home, riding up the elevator because he’d felt her panic. He’d know what to do.

“She’s just out, she had a court thing, didn’t she?” Bethy said.

“No, this is different, she’s gone, I can’t find her. Don’t you understand, I can’t find her!”

“Did she have another business trip and we just missed it?”

“I’d know where she was. If she was out of town, I’d know it, if she was here, I’d know, if she was at City Hall, I’d know. But I can’t find her.”

She’s dead, came an unbidden thought. The worst thought of all. She didn’t know what would happen if someone she loved, someone she could track over the whole world just by thinking of them, died. Would they vanish from awareness—just like this?

Bethy said quietly, “Anna, you’re being really scary.”

Anna should have told her about her power a long time ago. She couldn’t think of how to explain it now.

The door to the foyer opened and their father strode in, looking as shocked as Anna felt. But calm, somehow. Still in control.

“Anna, what’s wrong?” he asked, kneeling beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. The touch weighed on her, anchoring her.

Bethy launched in. “Daddy, she’s freaking out, I don’t know what’s wrong—”

“Shh,” Arthur said to her, quietly and firmly. “Anna?”

“I can’t find Mom. Mom’s gone.” She started crying, because the implications were too much for her to bear. Mom couldn’t be gone, she just couldn’t.