20 Galaxies

October in the park made things difficult for Kestrel. There were too many crowds, too many ghost hunters and university students and festivals. In the dead of night he was bound to run into someone with a camera, and he’d broken his share of them. No one found the matter worth pursuing with him, even those impaired by a lack of sleep or other factors, once they found themselves at the sharp end of his blade. Still, he was starting to become a legend himself, and he didn’t want to be recognized.

He was well aware part of the blame rested on him. He visited the park far more often than he should have. Tanager Park was hauntingly beautiful in the fall. These were the days a thin mist erased the bottoms of the trees in the shallow valley. Chilled breezes blew clouds of burning foliage from the shivering branches, leaving crows and hawks with nowhere to hide. The birds perched solid and silent at the tops of the trees here and there. The fading grass glistened with dew and silvery spider webs, and the waters were placid even when geese crowded the lakes. The world was settling in before a big sleep, the first bright flickers of dreams to come.

Nighttime was less impressive. Places with light pollution always were. Tanager Park was too close to Chicago to get a good look at an open stars. Some of Kestrel’s acquaintances preferred the city. Shryke was one. It was nearly four in the morning when he appeared at the edge of the park. He leaned against a trail map post, his hands resting in his pockets and his dark eyes dreaming. The air around him reeked of stale smoke. He was ruffled, his inky hair mussed, his silk shirt wrinkled. His feet were invisible under the river of fog that had crested the valley and now flooded Cardinal Street. His voice was slightly hoarse. “How’s it going?”

Shryke’s mind was still lingering on the hours before their meeting, and he intended to keep it there. Kestrel’s words cracked with a warning, thin ice under a pair of heavy boots. “You’re late.”

“Relax.” Shryke gave a half-smile to offset the shudder that rippled through him. “The sun isn’t up for another couple hours.”

“Where were you?”

“Show ran long, then there was a pileup on the freeway.”

“Pileup” was an unfamiliar term to Kestrel. Shryke pretended to look elsewhere, but he clearly felt Kestrel’s level, bullet-like stare. Those eyes alone wrung out a further explanation. “It was bad. Accidents happen. What was I supposed to do? I was in a van with the rest of the band. I can’t just zap away from ‘em.”

At last, Kestrel answered, “You are not a resident here. Remember that.”

Shryke’s voice raised. “You don’t understand the complexities of this society, all right? You gotta play –”

“These people work to believe the deception that rules their lives every day, and you mean to tell me that you cannot play to it?” Kestrel interrupted. He changed the subject. “Did you see them?”

“Yeah.” Shryke frowned, but he loosened up again. “Find something new?”

“Sylph’s initial report indicated they are children.”

Shryke snorted. “They are. I saw two of them at the Quarterhill Arcade. It’s supposed to be an insult, right? That’s what I take it as.”

Kestrel turned away, his long bangs concealing his face from Shryke. He waded through the fog, his boots soundless on the gritty concrete. A few seconds later he heard Shryke’s clumsier, scratching footsteps as he hurried to catch up. Kestrel voiced his thoughts as they came to him. “They would never take such measures merely to insult us. My suspicion is this is either desperation, or a distraction.”

“These kids would have to be a bigger distraction than they are.” Shryke arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t notice anything special about the two I saw. How many of us are there? A million?”

“Two million, three hundred thousand and eighty-four,” Kestrel corrected automatically. It was one of his jobs to know, down to the very last one. “You have a point. It would be ludicrous to try to lure us all with such small bait. However, in the case this is a trap, I want you to assist Sylph in this matter.”

“How?”

“Retrieve their pendants and bring them to me.”

Shryke looked both concerned and annoyed. “What for?”

“The safety of those children are likely to spring the trap. If you can convince them to give up the pendants without harming them, no one will know. However,” Kestrel looked Shryke in the eye, “it must be done before the children are informed of their true nature. Afterwards our choices will be severely limited.”

“I still say it’s easier to –”

“Just get them.”

Shryke shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

He quickened his pace and veered off towards a side street. Kestrel watched impassively. “Shryke,” he called before his cohort was out of earshot.

Shryke sighed and turned. His eyes were like charcoal under his heavy eyelids, dull even under the streetlights.

“Return to base for the remainder of the day. Karacara needs language training.”

“What?” Shryke threw his hands out wide. “No! C’mon, she can learn from someone else! You read all the time, why can’t you do it?”

“She specifically requested you.” Anyone but Kestrel would have sounded smug.

“That doesn’t mean you have to give me to her! You know how she is.”

Shryke waited then, as if he expected Kestrel to admit to a joke. He should know better, Kestrel thought. “Find a better way to escape your entourage next time.”

Muttering and no doubt cursing Kestrel under his breath, Shryke snapped his fingers. False light flowed from the ground in spiraling tendrils, turning the serene blue of the street yellow. Shryke vanished along with the spiral.

A thought hitched in Kestrel’s mind. The sleeping neighborhood was bathed in pure azure, yet the streetlights here were orange, not blue. His hand crept under his coat and gripped his sword handle before it occurred to him that the weapon would be useless in this case. “The Legendary Blue Star,” he called.

The fog burned away under the star as it drifted into sight, its own glittering mist trailing. The white fire at the star’s core was blinding. Kestrel released the sword, but his mind was at the ready. “A little out of your way, aren’t you? The deep woods are to the northwest.”

A loud rumble answered him. Kestrel dived for the ground. Before he landed the star unleashed a massive beam of light. The heat seared through his overcoat, his eyes watered and vision blurred as the force of it rattled his skull. He caught the trembling concrete and rolled nimbly into a crouch.

On one knee, he stretched his hand towards the ground and closed his eyes. He had hundreds of years of practice, but the energy the star was releasing forced him to use all of the focus he could muster. The electricity resisted his commands, threatened to shred him as it poured into his arm, shook his bones as it protested being confined. Sparks glimmered over his fingertips. He waited for what seemed like an eternity, with only a fierce determination keeping his body and mind from being ground away by these raging forces.

The beam vanished, leaving a dazzling afterimage, but Kestrel reacted instantly. This would be the star’s weakest point. He sprang up and jabbed his outstretched hand towards the star. Lightning exploded from his fingers, deafening thunder ripped through the still air and echoed for miles. As the electrical barrage hit home, the star wavered and scattered like a reflection on a pond. His throat clenched as it quickly began to reassemble.

Was it a trap? Kestrel was at a disadvantage here, but the star didn’t normally go on the offensive. He sensed that there was a sort of desperation behind this attack, meticulously planned or not. He was tempted to stay to find out more, but the thought of Crowe held him back. The star should not have the power to reduce Crowe to a weak, vacuous little bird, yet it did so.

The others had to be warned. Kestrel resigned the battle in a whorl of negative light.

~*~

If this was supposed to be a secret, Colleen wondered, why meet in the lunchroom? The tables were small and round, typically with only four chairs to them, but it was all open air. No tables were against walls, even the corners had frequently-used walkways around them.

The hot lunch lines already ran the entire length of the cafeteria when Colleen arrived. She knew they would be long; the sharp aroma of taco meat had saturated the lower halls earlier. She fidgeted her whole way through the line and set her plastic tray on the table a little harder than she would have liked. Misty eyed the tray strangely. Repressed disgust, Colleen guessed. Bad experiences with school food, maybe.

Ru nibbled quietly on the pizza square she’d picked up from the a la carte line. She’d started an awkward semblance of a conversation with Misty, but for the most part they’d both been evasive. Ru was not as open with Misty as she had been with Kenna, and she herself did not understand what it was about Misty that made her so uncomfortable. “I mean, she beat up Randy Fresnel!” Ru half-joked. “She should be my best friend.”

“No one else is coming, right?” Misty eyed Kenna, who was chatting comfortably with Nathan Hall.

“I only left three chairs,” Ru said.

“Good.” Misty folded her hands on the table. She looked far older than she was when she was serious. “Colleen told me about her dreams.”

Ru glanced at Colleen in surprise, who blushed. “I saw how you can predict the weather,” Misty continued. “I think you have these powers for a reason.”

“Predicting the weather isn’t a power.” Ru grinned and waved dismissively. “It’s just science.”

“Predicting the weather is like trying to predict where a drop of ink will go in a bucket of water. Modern science can only tell you so much. Ru, you can do it three weeks in advance with no computers or radars or barometers or anything. That’s not normal. Anyway,” Misty took a deep breath. “You guys aren’t the only ones.”

Ru took a bite of pizza in an attempt to look nonchalant, but it was obvious her interest was piqued. Misty nodded, acknowledging she had the girls’ full attention. “Do either of you have something small? An eraser or something?”

Ru rummaged in her jean pockets and pulled out a nickel. Misty scooped it up. “Sit in front of me,” she murmured. “Lean forward, so no one can see. Before I show you, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“As long as you don’t tell anyone about us,” Ru said.

Flattening her hands, Misty placed them around the nickel, leaving two inches of space on either side. She closed her eyes. Ru continued to gnaw on her pizza. Colleen didn’t even think to touch her lunch. She wasn’t sure what to expect from Misty.

Her heart jumped as a bizarre, uncomfortable sensation went through her. A cold needle pulling thread through her brain, towards the nickel. Misty raised her hands off the table.

The nickel followed.

Ru slowly set her pizza down. The nickel rotated in the air, now a foot off the surface of the table. Misty snatched it out of the air, her eyes darting left and right, her lips pressed tightly together.

“So — you know how to do magic tricks?” Ru asked.

“No,” Misty hissed. “It’s called telekinesis.”

There was no scorn in Ru’s expression, rather, there was a logical emotionless that Colleen was only vaguely familiar with. “I’ve seen other kids do that before. Can you lift something bigger?”

Misty scowled. She placed her hands under the table. The nickel clattered on the floor. “You dropped something,” she said acridly. “You too, Colleen.”

Colleen felt that cold sensation zing through her head again. Now annoyed, Ru ducked under the table to retrieve her money. Her fingertips had just touched the coin when the beam that supported the table rotated and brushed her hand. Colleen noticed at the same time Ru did. There was a half inch of space between the table support and the floor. Both girls looked rapidly over and under the table. Nothing touched it. Misty’s arms were folded, her feet firmly on the tiles. “You believe me now?”

Ru nodded, stunned. Misty let the table sink back to the floor. The support screeched as it touched down, but no one noticed over the buzz of lunchtime chatter. “There’s more to this,” she said. “Misty isn’t my real name. No offense, but I don’t trust you guys enough to tell you what it is. I can’t tell anyone because I’m not supposed to be here.

“I ran away from home a while ago. My parents think I’m possessed. I’m trying to prove I’m not. I thought I could find something here in Quarterhill to help me out but I don’t know enough about the town because I haven’t lived here. I never thought I’d actually come across others with powers.” Her silver eyes were dewy, and softer than Colleen had ever seen. “Can you help me?”

Ru mulled Misty’s story over. Colleen wasn’t about to accept if Ru wasn’t, but she felt guilty keeping silent the whole time. She was relieved when Ru finally said, “Yeah, we can help. And maybe you can help us find our parents.”

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