Chimera: Class of 666 | 1.2.5 | Part One "Waking Up" | Chapter Two "Boots"

Story: Chimera: Class of 666

Part: One "Waking Up"

Chapter: Two "Boots"

Authored by: 

Hannah Nyland (The Irreverent Revenant) 

Jerad Sayler (The Technostic Psychonaut)

All Rights Reserved.

Chimera: Class of 666

By Hannah Nyland and Jerad Sayler

“Do you think your parents will interfere because of your strange behavior? Send you in for therapy or put you on drugs?” he asks. 

I shake my head, “I don’t think that pills or appointments are going to be an issue. They don’t push that kind of thing.” Maybe not even when they should. I sigh. “So, lucky then. I think I can deal with the boots. . . . thanks.”

He waves off my appreciation and grins.  “Your parents are pretty cool, I’ve always thought of them as very progressive in their beliefs. I remember visiting and they would tell me all kinds of factoids about Buddhism with my Christian fear nagging me in the back ground. Glad I got over that.” He smirks, the trademark look.

 “Speaking of which, does what happened to you cause you any religious distress? That always makes it worse. People have a certain world view and when it gets shattered it grows back funny… that’s how you get cults and Banishers, insular mages who misinterpret their magic as something destructive and vile. They tend to try to kill us.”

“You should see our house now. Two new Buddha statues in the last month. That makes something like – twelve?”  I’m smiling a little at the thought, but sober up at the idea of homicidal mages. Quietly I add, “Uh, but no. I didn’t really have strong religious beliefs before. Not much to be shattered there.” The talk of cults unsettles me a little, but not because of the religious aspect. But misinterpreting magic as something harmful? Alone, I could have done that. I was already starting to.

"Cool, we have three Buddhas now as well.” He says, then snorts.

“Ha! I never made the connection until now. As for my religious beliefs, I feel they are a luxury that should only be kept if they are productive. My awakening shook away any lasting ties with strict Christian orthodoxy.  Who needs religion?  I can literally interact with the divine, it is real.”

“You have a point.” I respond, mulling over the implications of faith for a moment.

                “Well anyway, it would be good to return your life to some normalcy,” he continues, “it’s amazing sometimes on how simple behavior patterns and routines can get messed up and how it affects people heads. Just know that it is going to be okay. Go to whatever medical or psychological appointments your family wants you to go to. I’m not surprised really, awakening as a warlock is never a pleasant experience.  Answer their questions the way you know they want you to answer to be checked out as normal. If they give you meds maybe don’t swallow them until we get a handle on this. Do your freak outs in private if necessary. Give me a call or tamper with the amulet a little and we will come running. I have so much to show you and so many questions to answer, I’ll be meeting up with you for some education soon. I just need you to be strong and hold out a little longer. Now that you know you are not crazy… well not any more crazy than we are, it should held you focus on calling up or dismissing your sights. I am actually impressed you already figured out how to do them already.”

                I flip the card in my hand over and over and he notices me doing it.  “Do you know what it means?” He asks.

                I look down at the Prince of Cups and turn it over so it’s reversed as he had described it when he first drew it out of thin air.  “No… is it the Knight of Cups?  I’ve never heard of princes in the Tarot,” I offer.

                He smiles, “Good.  Yes, in the more common representations it is the Knight of Cups.  Reversed it means you are been given a powerful gift, but the gift is causing much emotional turmoil.    Or rather, your emotions regarding this situation are controlling you.  I have a mind to flip that card around.  Purity, innocence, power.”

                “Okay…”

“This is you,” He says pointing to the tarot card. “This decides it.  You will be my apprentice if you so desire or as long as you desire.” 

I stop walking and raise an eyebrow. “What.”

“It will be alright, your choices will remain your own. We are here to help you and teach you.”

“I’ll think about it… is that okay?”

“Sure, I’m here to help.” He responds, nonchalant. 

“Then… I have a question now,” I ask, a little meekly.

“Cool, what’s up?”

“What is a warlock? How was my awakening different than others?”

                Jack smiles knowingly and does a quick flourish with my coat, extending a sweeping hand as dramatically as possible. “You and I are warlocks, we are called by the watchtower in Pandemonium.  There we are tested by demons from within or without, challenged, honed, tested and sharpened through conflict.  The realm is attuned to Spatiomancy (Space Magic) and Neuromancy (Mind Magic) and common threads between the two.  Actually, depending on which one you are best at becomes what type of mage you are classified as.  Those that favor Neuromancy or Oneiromancy are called Psychonauts and those that favor Spatiomancy are called Warlocks. Collectively both are called Mastigos.”

                “Mind Magic and Space Magic…Mastigos”  I repeat, thinking to the Sights I had witnessed.

“You see, everyone who has awakened was called by one of the five Watchtowers. One of those towers is in the Supernal Realm of Pandemonium, and that is where you wrote your True Name. Do you remember being tormented by demons? Lost in a maze? See anything tower-like? Sign your name on something? Whether dreaming or in a day-mare your soul traversed shortcuts in astral space and found yourself in the realm. What can you tell me about your experience?”

At the mention of my Awakening, I stiffen visibly. I look down, shifting the card between my fingers, hands, and notice that my hands are shaking slightly. The nightmare was cut short only a few days ago, and I can recall it all perfectly. The lines of reality blurring and running together like rain on chalk. The slow but complete disintegration of reason, leaving utter, helpless fear in its place. Flooded consciousness and oily black whispers. Pandemonium – a world completely alien.  This doesn’t feel real.

“I didn’t actually go anywhere. A month ago, the world just stopped following any kind of logic.” I freeze up, finding myself unable to elaborate. It’s something I would prefer not to remember. “I’m not even sure how much of it actually happened; I wasn’t getting much sleep for most of it, so it’s not like I was playing with a full deck anyway. But like I said, I signed a slip of paper, saw the inside of a tower and . . . here we are.”

Jack nods knowingly, it is comforts to know that at least one family members can relate to what happened. “I dreamed it all, the most horrible and vivid dream of my life. I will tell you about it later.”

We both walk up the driveway of Terry & Bab’s house.  Jack turns to me and asks, “How about we get a cup of coffee inside?”

I’m relieved not to be pressed on the issue, and relax noticeably. Anxiety is immediately replaced with curiosity about his experience of discovering magic. For something so horrible, he manages to seem fairly casual about it. Although that isn’t entirely surprising at this point, I think wryly.

“Okay. No coffee for me though.” I make a face. “Too bitter.”

“Well cocoa then.”

“Sounds good.” I smile, the warmth of the amulet filling me with confidence and reserve.  I actually feel pretty good at this moment.

He look down admiringly at our switched pair of boots as he kicks off some snow on the front step. “You know, I think there may even be extra room in these.” He chuckles as we head inside.

                Jack does his covert hoodoo (I think, I felt it but he really didn’t do anything) to make it look like we just came up from the basement.  We re-enter the warm King home like we never left. The younger cousins play and prowl around. Terry and Bab’s son is showing off the show off the pregnant stomach of his new wife. 

Back inside, I’m at the kitchen counter, looking for a decent substitute for coffee. Even after I’ve find something to drink, I hover uneasily near the counter away from everyone else, attempting to look both inconspicuous and disconnected. Despite that, I keep stealing glances over at everyone present. Stan building god knows what out of legos. My parents, still chatting amiably. Zoe, Jack, and my Grandparents. They all look so at home.

Jack and I spend some time with our mutual grandparents before heading down to the basement where Keri, Jack’s sister, and our other cousins and in-laws are hanging out.

We sit with our warm beverages on the couch and talk quietly, just out of earshot. I walk over from the bottom of the carpeted stairs and sit down.

“Every time I come home to visit grandma and grandpa, grandma gives me these sad looks and says really unfortunate things. She makes me feel like every time I see her it’s the last time. But I don’t know what to do about it… “

At the talk of grandma, I look down unhappily. I know what he’s talking about. In fact, I’ve heard my mom saying very similar things recently.  I don’t know what I can do, or even say about it. Right now, I settle for a sympathetic silence and listen.

“I need to come home more but there is no way to explain the frequent visits to the rest of the family. Bending space for selfish reasons and all those shifts in locality leaves marks, depositing traces of unbidden magic that could harm someone. Plus it pings on people’s radar, supernatural or otherwise. And despite my knowledge I can’t claim to know even half of what is really out there.”

“I sounds dangerous, it all sounds dangerous.”  I sigh in worry.

 “Fear of the unknown, I get it.  You can’t just categorize all the weird, that’s a fallacy. There are more things on heaven and earth et cetera et cetera… Anyway, I was going to tell you about my awakening, hopefully that can provide you with insight and maybe some clarity about all this. Let me know if you want me to stop, I just figure since we are here and all we are going to be able to think about is this hidden life stuff we might as well use the time…” He sips his coffee.

“If it was anything like my own, I want to hear it…”  I answer without a thought needed.

Chimera: Class of 666 | 1.2.4 | Part One "Waking Up" | Chapter Two "Boots"

Story: Chimera: Class of 666

Part: One "Waking Up"

Chapter: Two "Boots"

Authored by: 

Hannah Nyland (The Irreverent Revenant) 

Jerad Sayler (The Technostic Psychonaut)

All Rights Reserved.

“Good,” he sounds a little relieved, the word has finality in it.  That settled, I dust some snow off my leg and Jack makes a gesture to start walking back.

“Okay, with regards the magic you’re manifesting, creating those tells comes from three things: visualization (you have to picture the effect you want and how to get it), desire (you want it to happen), and the exertion of willpower (you force it to happen). With practice you should be able to feel your spells lain into your body, strands weaved into the pattern that is you.  You should also know that you can dismiss them when they are unwanted. You simply break down the standing focus you created, skilled mages can concentrate on maintaining multiple spells at once.”

Walking back, I listen quietly, planning to test my sights on the amulet once I’m alone.

“As long as you’re subconsciously using the Mage Sights already you may as well take this new information, that it comes from visualization, desire, and will and try to control when they come and go.  Don’t overload yourself with them, you already know what they feels like and the pattern of the body can only take so much supernal energy.  Hold off on taking any action outside the ordinary.”

“Okay, I will try.”  I reply quietly.  This conversation has become very one-sided but I don’t even know where to begin asking questions.  After everything that happened I found I had fallen into some kind of quiet acceptance of the existence of the supernatural.  In video games, movies, books, I had heard similar concepts explained.  Play the game, learn the system, and I let my brain try to take it in for later.  The power of the amulet really helped, or I was losing it, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure which.

Jack again mutters those special words that boom with the undercurrents of power and flicks another card into his left hand.  Does he keep them up his sleeve? He then holds the card out for me to take. I take the card and note how normal it looks. It is a thick card of textured material. On the bottom is says in tiny letters ‘The Prince of Cups.’ The image on it depicts a barely clad man holding the reigns of an eagle which he appears to be riding. On his head is a bronze or golden eagle, clasped in one hand a massive chalice.

I take the tarot card, flipping it between my hands and looking it over with interest. I read a book once about the symbolism behind the Major Arcana, but I haven’t seen this card before. Somehow it just feels . . . oddly fitting.

“I need to thank you again. For weeks, I’ve had no idea what was happening to me. Not knowing – I don’t handle it well.” As confusing as all of this was, I far prefer it to being in the dark.

He shakes his head in the negative, voice resigned but stern “you do not need to thank me. For all you know I am getting you into heaps of trouble. It’s is almost as dangerous to know us as it is to be lost on your own. The life of a mage tends to be very… interesting. And my circles never do anything low-key. We have enemies. But the most immediate enemies are dead.”

This makes me very edgy, things he is saying becoming increasingly more worrisome. “One thing though. Are you expecting me to need this,” I gesture to the amulet, “Or is it just a precaution?” I really have no idea what to expect. It sounds like the danger isn’t immediate, but to receive something this powerful right away implies that I already have incredibly dangerous enemies. He already told me as much hadn’t he?

He sighs and shake my head again as we trudge back. “Okay, enough with the scare tactics. I am busy making you as paranoid as me and telling you to be safe, you’re going to be so worried about the hidden threats that you won’t want to leave your house. I should be congratulating you.” His tone of voice becomes lighter and more encouraging. 

“Your soul was ready for the Truth, you are slightly more perfected than the average human. From here you have so much potential. I am giving you the something very powerful, a sign of trust on my part, and I have warned you not to abuse it. I truly am not worried that you will, I genuinely believe in you. I’m a fairly good judge of character. Either way I will be watching you when you have it on. So don’t like…take a shower with it or something…” he trails off, chuckling at his own joke.

“So I am pretty safe?  We’re just being cautious?”  I prompt him again.  He really hadn’t answered my question. He pauses to think.

                                                 “No. I am not worried about immediate threats to you in Jamestown. The nearest concillium is in Fargo, and I have never seen anything that would suggest there is a Seer presence in the North Dakota.  There is roughly 80 mile radius centered on Beulah is Horsemen Territory, my former Cabal. I will give you there numbers so you can call them if you need help, may I?”  He reaches out for my cellphone and I hand it to him.  Jack fiddles on my phone, entering numbers and continues.

                “So yeah, the amulet is just a precaution. Most mage orders don’t go to random places in the middle of nowhere looking for newly awakened.  They would most likely recruit before anything else may resort to coercion or force if they thought it was for your own good. Newly awakened tends to leave a remnant burst and trail of magical resonance. Without the right veils you are walking around lit up like the fourth of July. I am more about free will and choice when it comes to all the orders. I will present all the information to you soon and you can decide to do what you want. You are under mine and Persephone’s protection until you wish to dismiss us as your guardians. You may invoke the name of Casstiel, Persephone, or the Bridge of Souls Cabal and that should keep some people from just nabbing you. No worries though.  With the amulet on there is almost no way they will even detect you anyway.”

“There are also non-awakened threats, things that feed on magical energy, things that get you in your dreams, things you can’t imagine. Don’t dwell on that. We try to keep North Dakota free of those kinds of monsters but if they stay low on the radar they may not be a priority. On the whole you should be very safe.”  I couldn’t tell me if what he was saying was a relief or just an opening for more dread.

“Keeping up so far? We can start your training as soon as I am done with that new charm.  Do you have something personal you wish me to enchant? It works better when it is something of yours…” He gestures open handed at the necklace around my neck.

“Keeping up? Yeah, I guess. Don’t think it’s really registered. It’ll click eventually, and then my head will probably explode.” I let out a dour laugh, face a blank mask. At some point in the last few minutes, I regained my composure and went back to being detached. I’m still turning the card over and over in my hands, a nervous tic I can’t manage to suppress.

“The one asset you have right now is that you are a tiny invisible fish in a sea of sleepers, the big bads aren’t going to focus on you. True there are things that feed on sleepers. The missing person ratio is absurdly high in this county. 1 out of 300 people go missing every year... let that sink in.  That is like three people from my graduating class from a town where you know everyone.

Truthfully, didn’t don’t actually need help to become paranoid. I’m perfectly happy not being in mortal danger at the moment. However, the existence of people and monsters who could squash me with half a thought are not especially comforting, no matter how far away they might be or how many guardians I have. I need training, information, preparation. Ideally as soon as possible.

“But now that you can flip a small car with your bare hands,” he continues, “I am less worried about you. I am serious through; don’t use the power unless you get attacked. And in a few seconds I will be by your side or portalling you out.” He sounds utterly confident as he continues in the lecturing tone and making the topic seem less serious and more blasé.

Blasé about monsters, teleportation, magic. No wonder it’s so surreal… Just another day at the office for Jack or he is putting on a great front. “So relax,” he continues. “We are just being prepared. I wasn’t a Boy Scout but the Air Force has all that be prepared thing too…”

Right, prepared.  I need something for a charm. “You could use these,” I indicate my boots. “If that works?” I’m wearing them the majority of the time anyway; people generally expect it now. There are certainly worse choices if my goal is to appear normal.”

“Nice footwear,” he says with genuine interest. He clicks his black three-buckled Harley Davidson boots together to call attention of how similar they are to mine. Nice, I hadn’t noticed them until this moment. Too caught up in my own affairs to notice… well really anything.

“If you wear them all the time, you realize that I will need to take them with me then after I leave here? Do you have other footwear in town?” He asks.

 “I have some formal shoes for the church service. They’re back at grandma and grandpa’s house, in my suitcase I think.” I frown. “They’ll do, but my parents will find it odd that I’m wearing them. It’s not really in character for me.” It was hard enough getting me to bring formal shoes at all; there is no universe in which I would be willingly wearing them on a casual occasion. A small thing, but they know me too well to overlook it, especially given my strange behavior lately.

He nods from within his hood as we head back up 11th Street to 1st Avenue Northeast. Then his face lights up with an idea. He steps off the road onto a clear patch of sidewalk.

“I’ve got it, we swap our boots. You wear mine while I enchant yours. In a week I will visit you in Jamestown, I will call you.” He starts taking off his Harley’s by pulling down the large zippers on the inseam of each boot.

“Hmm. These do look like something I would wear. Pretty similar to mine.” I nod approvingly, unzip my boots and hand them over. His boots feet my feet perfectly as I zip them up.

“Holy crap, they fit!”  Jack shouts in excitement.  “What are the odds?”

“Well, we are family.  Gotta be some chance right?” I supply.

“Well, very cool.  Strange and fortunate.”

“You may be wondering why I don’t just pull your shoes out of thin air or put a spell on them to make the difference in your footwear less noticeable.” Jack says. “I can do all these things. But a wise magi tries to avoid using his magic for selfish reasons, or to make life easier with magic. The power you can call down tends to leak and affect reality in strange and unpredictable ways. I wouldn’t want to have family undergo unnecessary surgery just as I wouldn’t want to alter them in any way with magic. Make sense? I’ve already done enough magic for one night under the excuse of necessity. No, I think that this boots thing can go unnoticed. If someone points out your boots our different, just tell them we did a trade, some kind of cousin thing.” He shrug absently.

“Should work.”  I provide, amiable enough to this course of action.

Chimera: Class of 666 | 1.2.3 | Part One "Waking Up" | Chapter Two "Boots"

Story: Chimera: Class of 666

Part: One "Waking Up"

Chapter: Two "Boots"

Authored by: 

Hannah Nyland (The Irreverent Revenant) 

Jerad Sayler (The Technostic Psychonaut)

All Rights Reserved.

Chimera: Class of 666

By Hannah Nyland and Jerad Sayler

Seeing me ease into it Jack starts again. “I sorry I said that... about your parents and keeping this a secret from everyone we care about. I was worried you were going to fight me on that point and if I didn’t convince you the Veil would be in serious trouble and we soon would be too. If this didn’t go well, this talk, I might be forced into a situation where I might have to altering the memories of family members and I really am not okay with that… But I would do it if it kept you all safe if I have to…”

He puts me in an attempt at comforting me while speaking softly.  I was feeling fine and comfort through physical contact was definitely alien to me.  I ignored it… and found that it was easy to ignore.  Jack continued.

 “My long term goal isn’t to leave people in the dark forever, it’s to free them when they are ready, like you are now. Your soul has cast off the dregs of the Lie and now is ready to perceive the Truth. My friends are focused on that liberation for all mankind. But that is a tall order to fill, there are not very many of us.”

Jack’s head cocks up for a second and then nods. “Someone who has been listening in wants to join us for a moment.” He glances around to see if there is anyone on this empty street then gets up murmuring those words of power while he put several feet between us.  The world shakes slightly, reverberating off his speech before he cuts in. “This is going to be a little scary, you may want to look away. It’s going to be okay though…”

Satisfied that we are not being observed, he squares his feet and does something.  I feel the power baking off him and see the focus on his face. He pulls out a large combat knife that folds out into a 6-inch blade with his right hand and while his left hand flicks out.  Into his hand is a large card.

“Seven of Swords Inverted,” I hear him mutter with my hyper sensitive hearing. Then red light flickers around him like a halo.  It is as if the very fabric of spatial distance dilate around him.  I am glad I am sitting down.  His black profile with the crimson light behind it seems to simultaneously get closer while all the ground around him recedes from us and stretches away.  My curiosity gets the better of me again, and I end up watching the spell despite the warning.

It happens so fast but I soak in every detail.  Flickering radiant red light pulsates behind him turning him into a shadow. Then I see shadows of black bat wings spread out from that profile and a line of seven golden flares ignite down the center of his body. Behind him I see something in the distance of the light, a blade or tower stretching into the infinite. I hear the howl of a demon-wolf calling from hell that echoes in the distance and I know this call. One who calls from the pandemonian world I saw in school.  Just like me.

Jack’s gives off an aura of menace and command, something noble but cruel. He slashes the air in front of him with the blade finishes the incantation among the din of demonic clamor. The air splits open and makes a hole, I can sense distance converge, those silvery threads pulled together and ripped open somehow.  My eyes widen as Zoe King blurs into existence and stands beside her husband.

After watching the spell I note to myself that I might actually want to listen next time I’m told to look away from something. Because that? That was terrifying. 

This time, with my accelerated mind I interrupt before they can address me again.  “Won’t they notice we are gone?”

Jack smiles at his wife and nods to me, “I have replaced us with some advanced illusions which I am controlling from here.  Zoe is just an illusion, she is actually back with the fam, keeping an eye on things.”  I don’t even know where to start at that… what?

The illusion of Zoe, as real as the cold street, steps towards me, still wearing the loose black dress she was wearing at the house, unconcerned with the cold.  “Hannah, Jack and I have been communicating telepathically the whole time you’ve been talking so I completely understand what is going on.  We can cut to it.  I have something to say.”  She cracks a sympathetic half-smile and speaks.

“You asked what you need to protect yourself and your family? You need friends Hannah. Lucky for you we made the trek up to this fantastic winter Wonderland for the holidays,” her voice drips with sarcasm.  Being a southern girl this was the first time visiting North Dakota and she hasn’t been super happy about the cold.  Her illusion, naturally, doesn’t feel it.

“I would have hated for someone else to come across you in your state. It’s not easy, awakening, but it’s probably especially hard while you are trying to transition to a new point in your life.”  She continues.

I return her smile, albeit somewhat crookedly. “Yeah. I’m sorry. Really not at my best here.” The smile drops off my face, and I look down, unsure of what to say.

“You are going to be just fine.” She says confidently, then nods to Jack.  “That is all I wanted to say.”  He returns her nod and the illusion unravels into bluish flickering static and the same strange blur in the air.  I watch and breath for several seconds before I have another question.

“What was the point of that?  Seemed like a lot of effort just to deliver a message.”  I wonder if she couldn’t just use her cell phone.

“Well… she is being actively observed right now, she wanted to prove some point, drive home how real this is… and you try telling her no when she wants to do something.”  I throws up his hands in mock placation.  “Okay. Let’s get back to the amulet before we go any further.”  He scans me with his eyes and I feel that pressure against me, the weight of observation, the heat vision.

He nods me, satisfied.  “Seems to be working well.  Cloaking your nimbus, creating a normal sleeper aura, and also… boosting you.  Seraph is going to freak out if he finds out I handed this over to you,” he grimaces.   “This necklace is one of my tools, it is connected to me and through it I will be close at hand. I have the ability, as you have seen, to cross distance easily. You carrying this is temporary fix until I can get you something of your own veil you from attention.”

He holds out a gloved hand and I take it, using the leverage to rise to my feet.  I take a look around at our surroundings.  We had rounded the top of the hill several blocks away from our aunt and uncle’s to another block of houses closer to the highway.  He glance around and smile as I spot a gray two story house across the street.

“I used to live there. 212 Eleventh Street Northwest.” He stares off into the distance for a time, through the house. On his face shifts touches of warm memory and a touch of saddens and for just the briefest second he looks forlorn. Then the confidence is back.  I pretend not to notice and hold up the medallion again. I am not sure what these connected orbs and symbols written on it are but they look vaguely familiar.

“Sky, now listen this is very important. It is against my order to grant powers beyond your understanding or level of control before you have earned it.  In a world where you can change the world with your mind you don’t give power to someone who has not demonstrated the capability to use it responsibly… hubris is the worst sin for a mage.  I am taking a leap of faith here and ignoring requirements for proper initiation into the mysteries in order to protect you and our family.”  He takes a breath, ending the disclaimer.  I nod.

“This amulet has the potential to ruin your life. I recommend only wearing it when you go out into public. If you are not careful you will ace every test in school and if you go to gentle sock someone in the shoulder you could knock them into the wall. I am putting my faith into you, practice normalacy, and practice carefully so you don’t accidently hurt someone or stand out. Do not use these powers, they are only there because I cannot remove them.  If you are encounter a threat, you run.  If you are cornered you use the strength granted by the Tree of Life to break free. Any mundane threat short of a l bomb you should survive easily. So it is doubly important that you do not try to use the other capabilities of the amulet. If you desire it, it may grant you multiple Sights… it could drive the untrained insane.”

I’d been subconsciously tracing a finger over the amulet since I pulled it out. While that was succeeding at keeping me calm and focused, fiddling with an absurdly powerful magical item strikes me as a bad idea, especially considering that I don’t understand how it works. Truthfully, I’m vaguely uneasy about it – in particular, the potential for me to slip up and possibly maim someone makes me wince.

 “Just remember you can always take it off. I promise that I will get to work on a device of protection for you, two days, a week at tops,” he adds. “Do you trust me to help you?”

“Yes.” Very deliberately, I make eye contact and smile awkwardly. Just for a second and then my gaze slides to the side, off at nothing in particular. My answer is completely sincere, but I can’t help but think that I would have ended up going along with this even if it wasn’t. I need more answers. What is his order of mages? Who is Seraph? What supernatural threats, exactly? And I’d love to know if I’m able to make illusions too, but I doubt that’s an appropriate question right now. 

Chimera: Class of 666 | 1.2.2 | Part One "Waking Up" | Chapter Two "Boots"

Story: Chimera: Class of 666

Part: One "Waking Up"

Chapter: Two "Boots"

Authored by: 

Hannah Nyland (The Irreverent Revenant) 

Jerad Sayler (The Technostic Psychonaut)

All Rights Reserved.

Chimera: Class of 666

By Hannah Nyland and Jerad Sayler

“We should be able to talk here a while in secret and comfort. Would you like to go for an actual walk while we discuss what is going on with you? Or we could relocate to a safe place? Don't worry, the fam won't even know we are gone. I thought you might want to know what we are and what your options are." He turns to stark walking out of the circle of light, heading down the hill to the first intersection.

I consider for a second. “A walk, please. It’s what I came out here for.” The voice that says that sounds far calmer than it has any right to be. I’m simultaneously proud and disturbed by this. I watch more closely as Sky cast the spell this time; trying to figure out exactly how he did it, and coming up with nothing. But I could learn, apparently. My curiosity has already surpassed my reservations, for better or worse.

He pulls his hood up from my coat and we start walking side by side. He doesn’t talk for a long while. Then his eyes drift skyward and he begins to speak, taking in the vast open sky and speckled stars.

“There are a lot of stories, myths, theories… about what we are and where we come from.  What I can tell you is that since the beginning of recorded history there have been those who show preternatural abilities.  There are a fair number of other special people that have access to supernatural abilities and occult powers.  Were we make the distinction between some psychic and a mage is where our power comes from.  Mages are raw existential will-workers.  We call down the power and truths from higher planes of existence to alter laws of physical reality.  Among occult scholars, we call what we do High Magic… as opposed to more gross abilities which are sometimes referred to as magic with a little ‘m.’”  I listen to my cousin’s words and realize he is more comfortable in this academic tone, it helps me too.

We meander through 11th Street and up a shallow hill. Christmas decorations blink and shimmer on the houses all around us. I am processing what he is saying and with everything else I’ve dealt with tonight I am barely able to suspend disbelief long enough to follow what he is saying.  About all I can offer when he pauses is a curt nod.

“My order cannot provide with any reliability how and why a person becomes lucid and gains the ability to work their will against reality and its masters.  What we can say with confidence is the common themes of such an awakening. The soul of the person begins to resonate with the Supernal Realms and creates a permanent link or channel which the mage can then use sympathetically to call down the Magic.”  For all the precision in his explanation most of this goes right over my head.  Resonate… what does that even mean.  I focus on not having a panic attack and find myself remarkably calm, all things considered.  Jack’s introspective walk is a safe zone and I don’t want to return to the noise.

We reach the top of the slope and near another intersection. “So… I guess that is why I think you awakened to Magic. I can sense your power and I saw the structure of your spells.  I know you have Magic.  When this all started do you remember seeing a tower or a beacon or writing your full name on something before you started noticing these new sights?” He turns to look at me expectantly.

“There was a tower. Made of some sort of metal, I think. It looked different at first though; I couldn’t see what it really was. Other things kept getting in the way. Illusions. Dreams. . .” I abruptly fall silent, a distant look in my eyes. As though I have betrayed too much.

Black boots drag heavily through the snow, as though I’m barely lifting my feet as I trudge beside him. My pace has been slowing for the last few minutes, but I hadn’t noticed it until now. I’m too far away; half mesmerized by the glow of Christmas lights from the buildings nearby, reeling from all of the new information spinning through my head. It’s a lot to take in. My hands are tucked into my pockets, but from force of habit rather than cold. On second thought, the walk isn’t helping nearly as much as I expected it to.

I realize that I haven’t said anything for far longer than is polite. I continue quietly, “I did end up signing my name. I was sitting at a table inside the tower, and I wrote it down on a piece of paper. Which was also my math final.” My lips quirk up in a faint smile. “I passed, by the way.”

I stop abruptly, turn to face Jack. Something has just occurred to me. “Look, all of this . . . do you think you think you could help me explain to my parents? They’re worried about me.” A hideous understatement. “There must be something that would help. . .” I trail off.

“Something that would help?” He asks, incredulity leaking into his voice.  His face seems suddenly very open and sad, a hopeless smile sets grimly into his features.

“I forgot to mention the thing about sleepers, that is what we call people unaware of the Supernal. Your parents, as open and awesome as John and Marion are, they cannot believe you.  They literally are incapable to believing.  They subconsciously reject High Magic because the Sleeping Curse remains upon them and suppresses any stimuli from that source. Casting magic in front of sleepers is quickly disbelieved and that, combined with the spiritual entropy of the phemoral world, frays Magic apart. Through observation alone they counter your will with their sleeping will and reality asserts itself.  It’s not that reality is completely subjective and based on belief, it might be, it’s that the status quo is being unwittingly reinforced…”

Jack pinches the bridge of my nose with a black leather gloved hand as if he were trying to squeeze the answers out of his brain. “Kiddo, I wish we could tell your parents or even my parents. I wish I could tell you that this is going to be like Harry Potter or the X-Men.  That you are going to a school for the gifted with your parent’s blessing. But this is the real world (kinda) and it only gets more complicated from there.  When you tell people, even your closest, most trusted friend about Magic, the nature of reality, and you’re mystical secrets you open them up to it. There are bad mages and horrible creatures that would love to eat you. There are more things out there then I could even list for you. You have magic and can have powerful allies but your friend, as someone who is still sleeping has virtually no defense against those supernatural powers. Your parents become something that someone or something could leverage against you. Plus the more people you tell the secret to the more there exists greater potential for these secrets to spread.”

He sighs loudly, “I know it sounds like a cop-out… but the best way to protect them is to leave them out of it. If you want help and need a support group you have family.”  I realize he is talking about himself.

“I see,” I manage to get out, keeping my face composed. Barely. But inside… I’m a mess. Everything that I’ve been repressing for the last few weeks suddenly comes rushing up. Before I realize that it’s happening, my legs buckle and I find myself sitting down hard on the cold curb.  When I collapse Jack lunges forward to make sure I don’t hit my head on the ground.  He squats next to me and places a gentle hand on my back. 

It was bad enough when I was just scaring my family half to death. Now I’m also potentially putting them in danger just by being around me. And they’ll never know the reason for any of it. Guilt does not adequately describe what I’m feeling right now. My eyes are wet. Damn it. Just what I need right now.

I make a conscious effort to look up and ask, “So. What do I need do to protect myself against all these things you mentioned?” My casual tone sounds incredibly forced, even to me. 

His face is stern and carries worry but doesn’t convey much sympathy.  He sighs, taking in a deep breath. He hesitates and then slowly reaches to the back of his neck with both hands and takes off a black leather corded necklace. On the cord is a flat, shovel shaped piece of tarnished metal. As he removes it I feel a startling burst of energy raced across my skin like a wave. The ground waivers around me. Power radiates from him and even without The Sights I can feel it.

Jack circles the necklace around my neck and clasps it at the back. Written on the amulet are ten spherical shapes and lines connecting them. Words I don’t recognize in English and symbols in some kind of Hebrew alongside Astrological symbols.

“I want you to keep this for now, just for a little while until I can make another charm with the right stuff to mask you from conventional preternatural detections. I made this so that if given freely by my hand it would share its protection with the wearer. It will shield you from detection and as long as you don’t use any magic in front of any supernatural entities you should blend in as a sleeper. It won’t work if you give it to someone else to use.  So I suggest you leave it on as much as possible, even when you sleep.”

As soon as the necklace encircles my neck I feel immense strength fill your limbs and understanding burst through my neurons.  I was so lucid, so calm, so confident.  Was this Magic?  Thoughts and ideas came so freely and filed away, I wasn’t tired anymore, I felt like I was floating on the air.  Every move, twitch, and thought was effortless.  I can feel the heat of its power against the line of my neck and where the amulet touches my skin, so intense that it practically burns itself into my throat. For a split second, everything is sped up – thought, sound, motion, perception- everything. It’s dizzying. I reflexively start to raise my hand to tear it off, but the sensation is gone as quickly as it appeared.

“What is it doing to me?”  I ask quickly.

Finally he smirks, “just a few enhancements.  It augments the physical and mental capacity of the wearer as well.”

It all clicks into place, and I am left feeling different than before, as though energy is quietly pulsing through my entire body, heat without tangibility. At this point I do feel slightly better, although the entire situation is still deeply disorienting. Jack’s explanation does make logical sense to me (well, as much sense as anything else right now), but it doesn’t do much to assuage my feelings of guilt. Deciding that it would probably be better not to try to stand up right now, I remain seated on the curb.

Chimera: Class of 666 | 1.2.1 | Part One "Waking Up" | Chapter Two "Boots"

Story: Chimera: Class of 666

Part: One "Waking Up"

Chapter: Two "Boots"

Authored by: 

Hannah Nyland (The Irreverent Revenant) 

Jerad Sayler (The Technostic Psychonaut)

All Rights Reserved.

Chimera: Class of 666

By Hannah Nyland and Jerad Sayler

The cold air sings over my face as I step outside. It feels really good right now. The street is unusually quiet. People all have places to be, seeing loved ones, traveling the spaces between the cities. On nights like these Beulah seems like a ghost town.  A place of perpetual winter and silence.

I head down the street to my left, powder on the driveway crunching under my boots. The road slopes gently down the hill to a semi-cul-de-sac and then further down. Christmas tree lights flash and sparkle on every other house. The sound of snow and crusted ice underfoot is a muffled metronome.  That and the slight but ever present North Dakota breeze are the only sounds that reach my ears.

My head is still swimming. The air is crystallized and crisp, clear as can be with a million brilliant stars above. Wait, that actually helps. I turn my head upwards as I walk through the dark between streetlights. As I walk I focus on the stars above. They are less busy.  Well that isn’t true? But their paths are so graceful and gradual. The space between, the oceans of time and distance, and any minds in the great beyond are too far away to feel.

When I look back down, nearing the circle of light beneath the streetlamp at the base of the cul-de-sac, Jack is standing in the center of it. He is wearing a black P-coat, black leather gloves, blue jeans and those buckled Harley boots that look so similar to the ones I am wearing now. My pace slows as a spike of panic takes hold. No foot prints. How did he…?

My body is buzzing.  My senses swim around him, trying to get a read and get nothing but a generic calm. He doesn’t look calm. He is smiling but it’s strained. He reaches out a gloved hand into the air, open towards me, and says something which makes the Earth beneath me vibrate.

The spoken and unfamiliar syllables transcend anything remotely approaching mundane words. They are symbols that almost seem to form in the air of his breath. They resonate with so much meaning as I watch, transfixed, and my heart beating rapidly, but their meaning escapes me.  

I feel a pressure, a soft wave of tingling energetic shocks roll over my skin.  His voice has a boom beneath it like the low bass of sub-woofer speakers and then all my unnatural sensory inputs vanish as he clenches the fist and makes a sweeping gesture with his gloved hand.  The buzzing is just… gone.

“There.” He says with finality. “You shouldn’t be walking around with all those spells on you, you looked like you were going to pass out.” What he says doesn’t make a lick of sense but I do feel better. It’s so quiet and calm.

His face is warm, placating, and almost too sincere. “Sky, it’s okay, just relax okay? Everything is going to be okay… “After his gesture that tore the energy flowing through my body in fractal geometries his gentle posture and words seem contrary. 

I feel the slight pressure again and I suddenly feel a lot calmer.  My heart rate drops and my breathing slows from the brink of hyperventilation slows to a sigh.

“When did this happen?” he asks.

“. . . Thank you,” I whisper. Though I’m not sure which part I’m thanking him for – that my mind is still and quiet for the first time in weeks, or the revelation that I’m not quite so alone as I thought. Either way, a burden has just been lifted. The fact that he is actually here, completely impossibly, has not sunk in yet. Very little is sinking in right now. I’m better, but I feel numb, almost hollow. Being deprived of my additional senses after so much time leaves an almost physical emptiness. Having them silenced is a godsend at the moment, but a part of me already misses them.

Awareness slowly starts to dawn on me. To my embarrassment, I realize that I look like a frightened child right now and struggle to fix my facial expression into something more stoic. Saying I don’t like being seen like this is an understatement. Weak.  Then a second realization hits; he asked me a question. Silence for a few more moments, until I’m able to get myself well enough in order to get anything out. He waits patiently. 

“About a month ago. I mean – that’s when it started.” There was probably a more eloquent way to say that, but words are not coming easily right now.

My cousin nods as if he knows very well what I mean. “Has anyone else spoken to you?” He shakes his head before I can respond.  “No, no of course not.” He smiles sadly “I’m guessing you saw a tower?”  He shakes his head again and waves his hand is a dismissive gesture. “Gods, where to start?”

This time I wait and after a few moments he starts again.  In a way, he seems almost as flustered as I am.

“Okay, most importantly, you are not alone. What is going on with you is normal… okay no, not normal, but its okay. I can help you, I can teach you to control what you are doing. You have become in-tuned with a higher power. And you are inadvertently using your will to alter reality itself. You have felt it, right? You are seeing and understanding things that no normal person can know, the powers behind everything.”  His words hang in the air like meaningless noise as I try to grasp them.

                He pauses before continuing. “Sky… you have awakened to magic. That means your eyes are open. The rest of mankind is asleep, just living their normal lives. Your senses are finally open to perceive the core of truth behind every aspect of the physical and spiritual worlds. You can see the signals in the carrier wave.  You have gained a connection to a higher plane of existence. Another dimension where of pure and ultimate truth, the code that sets the rules for all of existence. You can see the code now. Reality is like a piece of cloth, and you can see the individual fibers that make up the cloth.”

I frown, look down at my boots and adjust my glasses compulsively. Buying time. Because I honestly have no idea how to respond to any of this, and by the looks of it Jack is having a rough time explaining it. I’m standing here talking about magic and higher planes of reality with my cousin, who by all logic could not have gotten in front of me.  Magic. Higher realities. Truth? My brain should have short-circuited by now. It might’ve, were I not currently already experiencing such a massive disconnect from reality. Some of it is getting through, but an eerie, numb calm has settled over my mind. I’m not sure that’s a good thing.  A month ago I would have thought he was completely nuts, and even now he sounds like a crazed evangelical preacher.

He raises his right hand, his fingers pointed upwards in a cupping motion. “Sky, you are one of the Wise. You are a Mage. And yeah, we call what we do magic, altering the forces of reality.  Just like in every major mythology all over the world… and there is a reason for that.”

“Come to think of it, I never felt magic was a good name for what we do. Sufficiently advanced technology could be seen as magic.” He shakes his head. “No, there have been a lot of scholars on that one and we still call it magic. The name given by the secret histories and legends. There is perhaps no better word for its all-encompassing preview.  You can call it whatever you want: reality-hacking, high magicka, ki, sorcery…” He trails off.

At this point Jack does a literal facepalm with one black gloved hand. “Fuck, why this is so hard?”  He asks himself.  “You’d think with all the things I know, all the things I’ve seen and done this would be second hand.  After a brief pause he seems to realize the air won’t answer him.  He sighs in exasperation.

“Okay, I guess there is no easy or gentle way to start talking about this.  That or I hopelessly lack the subtlety to do it.”  He turns back, watching me and gauging my reactions. I wonder what he would do, in a detached sort of way, if I ran or fainted or screamed.

 I take a deep breath, and manage to look him in the eyes again. Jack is still standing there, looking concerned. Not a hallucination then. A pause. When did my life get so weird? This might be less uncomfortable for everyone if I just freaked out. Cried or blacked out or burst into hysterical laughter. Or even just asked a question instead of staring mutely.

Feeling the need to provide a reaction of some kind, I latch onto the first thing I can think of. Something amusingly inconsequential, considering everything I have just been told in the last few seconds. “What exactly did you do, a minute ago? It was like there was all this static in my head, and then it was just gone.”

He blinks once, twice, then seems to finally accept I am not about to toss my cookies.  Maybe my recent trials have hardened me from such impersonal statements. He seems to relax visibly, relieved to switch to something of a lecture.

“Whether you realized it or not you have been weaving spells into yourself, pulling down this transdimensional energy and giving it a construct shaped by your focus, mental desire and design. It’s not as easy as just wanting to do something. You put the correct images and equations together, the right framework to get something out of it.  They didn’t look very efficient, but it’s not unheard of to have a knack for the The Sights right off the bat. You started calling down the power and seeing part of how the world really operates. It’s almost like we're in a hologram... Okay wait, I think I have covered too many earth-shattering metaphors and analogies for one night. And I did not answer your question.”

He takes a breath, exhaling it in a steamy cloud that catches mistily in the street light. A car starts to turn up the street, heading on an intercept course with us, standing in the middle of a snowy cul-de-sac. He stares intently at it, muttering under his breath, and the car signals right and turns down another street.  His face relaxes.

Jack turns back to me. “The spells you had cast were too inefficient and you had overloaded your pattern with them. The body can only hold so much magic at a time before you start to feel sick.  The exotic energy cannot be held in large amounts inside yourself without feeling dizzy, weak, or any number of other unfortunate side effects. So what I did was reach out and dispelled them, tore apart those constructs that your subconscious had filled with magic.”

He looks at me appraisingly.  “Now you’re not getting all those data feeds.  That's okay though, even without The Sights, if you pay attention, you will be able to detect things about the world around you. Magi are especially sensitive to the supernatural, kind of like Spiderman’s ‘spidey sense.’ If you have only been at this a month I am impressed you’ve managed that much already..."

He mutters in that strange language that seems to be at once advanced and primitive, meaningful but incomplete, muffled and clear. He gestures at us, circling his hand and clasping a knife at his hip. Suddenly I feel warmer, the cold North Dakota winter seeping away as the air around us is filled with warmth.

Chimera: Class of 666 | 1.2.0 | Part One "Waking Up" | Chapter Two "Boots"

Story: Chimera: Class of 666

Part: One "Waking Up"

Chapter: Two "Boots"

Authored by: 

Hannah Nyland (The Irreverent Revenant) 

Jerad Sayler (The Technostic Psychonaut)

All Rights Reserved.

Chimera: Class of 666

By Hannah Nyland and Jerad Sayler

Part 1: Waking Up

Chapter 2: Boots

25 December 2013

Beulah, North Dakota

Finals week was over. I passed.

That test was more significant than any other moment in my life… and it plunged me straight into hell.  My parents tried to hang onto the last vestiges of our once-close relationship. They insisted that getting away and seeing the family would add some comfort and structure to my life.  Class had just given way to the Christmas season, and they saw the family festivities as a way to re-center my life.

But they didn’t understand.  Couldn’t possibly understand; and I’m not just saying that in a fit of teenage angst. To them, I had descended from my long and predictable bouts of unmedicated depression into full blown schizophrenia. To them, I was hallucinating, my social anxiety having gotten so severe that even my conceptions of reality were shattered. To them, I was mad.

I have Asperger’s, also known as high functioning autism.  I was born with it, as all aspies are.  It’s not terrible, but it’s always isolated me from people. It’s amazing how a few simple issues like a lack of eye contact, an inexpressive face and missed social cues can become seemingly insurmountable barriers after a short lifetime of trying to deal with them. I’m not bitter; in fact, when I was diagnosed last year it reaffirmed a lot about my identity, finally explaining my social awkwardness and aversion to prolonged human interaction. Unfortunately, being an aspie also makes you predisposed to depression and anxiety, which gave my parents plenty of reason to be worried about me even before my strange behavior started.

I would have said high school was a living hell, but hell didn’t really kick in until finals week.  The whispers have finally stopped telling me my secrets and faults.  People I know, people I love and care about have ceased the barrage of horrible confessions, telling me everything they hated about me, everything I had done wrong, every time I have hurt them with my stupidity and inability to understand them.

Instead, I got a whole host of new issues.  These were a little easier to handle, but they didn’t do a whole lot to level me out.  Hell I thought I was hallucinating half the time, so how could I blame anyone else for thinking so?  But if my mind was just making shit up, why did I know so much about the world around me? And the worst part was, deep down I knew that it wasn’t a hallucination, but something very real. All of it.

I saw things I shouldn’t be able to see; the invisible threads that tied people together, binding them by the strength of their connections. And not just the bonds of people but of objects too, silvery webs strands forming a mesh of closeness and association. I could see the echoes of people’s thoughts, taste their emotions with perfect accuracy as the faint halo of auras around them shifted to match. 

My body sang with energy, my mind raced with spontaneous data and unrivaled insight into everything around me.  It was powerful, perfect, divine – and was far, far too much. It would’ve been enough to seriously disconcert any normal person, but for an autistic prone by nature to sensory overstimulation? Not fun. The visions didn’t happen all the time, but when I wanted to know something badly and focused hard, there they were. An invisible eye opened and the universe poured in. In those moments it was hard to move, hard to think beyond the information I was getting or concentrate on anything else. After about a week of on and off catatonia, I was certain that a trip to the North Dakota State Hospital was in my future.

But Christmas came first. My family usually spends major holidays in Beulah, North Dakota, a small town of only thirty five hundred people. It’s a place built first on the railroad and agricultural co-ops, then coal mining and power plants, many of which dot the horizon around those parts.  It’s kind of a boring place, but my mom’s parents lived there and it seems to be the epicenter for all my relatives on that side. 

I could tell you more about my family, but it’s a private part of my life.  They’re something I cherish and protect.  Don’t expect me to go in-depth until it becomes relevant, okay?

Late afternoon on Christmas Day I was at my Uncle Terry and Aunt Bab’s.  Large groups of people, even family do not re-center me.  Over the years, my parents quietly consented when I snuck off to an empty bedroom or quiet corner to read a book and de-stress. Due to the large portion of my life spent without a diagnosis for my Aspersers and depression, I had always felt a little more apart and alone at social functions, outside of all the movement and talk even when among family.

This time was different, but no better. I felt it before we even pulled into the driveway; dazzling bursts of information buzzing like a swarm of bees over every inch of my skin. People, lots of people nearby, and the hundreds of silver threads connecting them to the world.

We went inside and were engulfed by hugs as soon as we came in the entryway and shrugged off our winter coats.  I pulled off my massive buckled black leather boots and was surprised to notice a nearly identical pair amount the rows of footwear belonging to the other visiting family members.  I really like my boots, and finding another pair with that much heel and black leather caught me off guard.  Whose were they? I didn’t remember seeing them before.

The evening went on as a distracted, half-remembered blur.  Honestly, I probably would’ve preferred to just retreat to the corner and curl up in a ball, but everyone wanted to ask me about my plans for college next year.  I tried to make amiable conversation, but kept finding myself distracted by the silver threads connecting damn well everything. Somehow they made more sense to me than the people. After dinner, there was a photo shoot that lasted a solid twenty minutes.  You know the kind.  When you have a family as large as mine and everyone visits from all over the country, you end up doing a lot of iterations of smiling with different combinations of people. When everyone became engaged in their own conversations, I took the chance to sit down on the floor and bury my face in my book, a position that had become familiar enough over the years.

I was exhausted; I’d had been having a really bad time in general since my world cracked open and unbridled pandemonium poured in.  No guidance, no answers, and the growing doubt that I was truly sane. And yet, I was.

Despite everything I found myself smiling a glass smile. Fragile. Transparent.  Maybe the Devil was real.  Maybe when I wrote my name on that tower, I really was signing a contract for my soul without realizing it.  As much as I didn’t really believe in a literal Devil anymore, it was hard to refute how true it felt when I had been there. That place, those dreams . . . they made their own reality.  But how could the rush of perfect clarity, the surge of unlimited power and cosmic self-assurance have been evil?

That is where and how I am when the hairs on my neck stand straight up, and I catch one of my older cousins, staring at me across the room. Jack King is short for a man in his late twenties. Dark haired and dark eyed. He’s got a tapered military cut, delicate features but a rounded jaw line and a nearly perpetual smirk – you can see it even in his eyes when he isn’t smiling at the hints of crowfeet in the corner of his eyes. Usually, he’s laid back and friendly at these family events, possessing an easy confidence from his years as a Captain in the Air Force. Jack is the type to immediately corner you and get down to business if he has something to say, and usually with a grin and snarky remark at that. Right now, his eyes are boring holes through me. He’s not smiling. He’s not smirking.

This isn’t isolation anymore. We sit, eyes locked, silent, staring at each other across the room filled with thirty odd chattering relatives. After a few seconds the eye contact hurts, and my gaze flits down to the carpet. That was . . . intense, and I immediately feel exposed. It’s stupid, but the first thing I think is: he knows. Then hit hits me, the information pouring off him was…off somehow.

The only saving grace is that no one else seems to notice. He’s somehow managing to carry on full conversations and still keep most of that uncomfortable focus on me. I’m not looking, but I feel it. And when I gather the courage to glance up again, he still has that look; intense concentration, furrowed brows, deeply un-pleased. It’s like he’s trying to silently communicate with me and the message was harsh.  His wife was looking too, just not being so obvious about it.  Zoe King was not exfoliating me with heat vision like her husband.

You could slide a knife under my skin and I would be less uncomfortable. Goose flesh stampedes up my arms and I try, not for the first time in my life, to shut it all out. Locked into a world bleeding noise and sensation, I try to escape to my head before it gets worse. I just try.

But my head isn’t a nice place these days either. And how do you escape from people when you can feel the traces of them everywhere you go, the stray emotions and fragmented pieces of thought? Everything was connected to everyone.  No luck. More stares. The crowd moves around us but his piercing gaze remains implacable. I feel it, the moment I cross some sort of threshold. I need to leave. I need to get away. Now.

My mom is sitting at the kitchen table, chatting and looking for the life of her like she’s having a great time. I skulk over to her and mutter that I’m going to take a quick walk. There’s an oddity in the way we interact now, a distance. I can feel it in my mind, the slight edge of distrust and worry. Faint, but cutting. It stings, even now. The urge to get away is stronger than ever.

 It’s Christmas day; with any luck at all I’ll have the streets to myself. At the front entry way of the house, I pull on my coat and those big buckled boots, making a quick sweep of the room before heading out the door. It seems I haven’t attracted much notice, but my eyes consciously skip over Jack as I look.