I Am Not Junco Omnibus: Books Four – Six Read online

  I don't answer.

  "We have to talk, Junco. There is a lot you need to know, but not today."

  No, it's never today, is it? Today is never a very good day for anything, is it?

  "Today, just try and leave the bedroom. Can you do that?"

  I breathe hard for a few seconds, forbidding the tears. I forbid them because I really need to count.

  And then they're gone and I nod. I'll try.

  I look up at him and know he doesn't believe me. I can't read his thoughts like he can read mine, but I can read his face.

  "Gideon is here."

  Isten overtakes me again and I just want to crawl under the covers and die. His memories are always there, memories I should not be privy to without him.

  "Junco, I said Gideon is here."

  "I know, Lucan."

  My reacquaintance with speech lights up his face. "You will be OK until tomorrow? I'll be right back."

  "I'm…" I cannot even bring myself to say the lie. "I'm not OK, Lucan."

  He sighs. "I know, Junco. But you will be, I promise."

  I shake my head as I fight back the memories.

  "Gideon is here."

  "I know," I whisper, irritated. "I appreciate that. I love him and I'm glad he's here to help me—"

  Lucan's laugh cuts me off. "He's rather pissed off at your self-pity, actually. He'll be in here shortly to throw you out of this bedroom, so please, Junco. Just get up and get ready. He won't tolerate your moping."

  Moping? Is that what he thinks this is?

  "Quitting, maybe that's a better word. Quitting. You're not a quitter, Junco. You must gather yourself."

  "Right. Gather myself. Just go away. I'll be fine." If there's one thing I know how to do well, it's gather myself. Push that shit down and forget about it. "It's funny though, all that gathering I've done has gotten me exactly squat, Lucan. Nothing but pain. What's the difference? Between unraveling and gathering? The problem still remains the same, right?"

  His smile falters at the recollection of the chat we had, long ago, before I was violated in a tank of goo for two years. No matter how you choose to look at things, with emotion or logic, the problem doesn't change. Only your reaction changes. Well, big fucking deal. You still end up in the same place—either dying of cold or dying of the poison fumes from burning the wheat beetle-infested wood.

  Which do you choose, Junco? That's what he asked me. To die or die?

  I think today I'll choose… to die, yeah that's it. Today is a good day to die.

  But maybe tomorrow I'll choose to die instead.

  It's so stupid. Nothing makes any sense at all.

  "Faith, Junco. Sometimes you just have to muster up a little faith that things will get better."

  But they won't get better. I know this. I feel it inside me, in every molecule, every atom, every subatomic particle that makes up my body. I feel the wrongness of everything. "Faith is a waste of time."

  "Mostly," he replies. "Yes, mostly it is. Faith always takes second chair to action. But sometimes, Junco, you're the only one playing the song and you've got no one else there to rely on. In those times, faith really does help. So you have to have a little faith."

  "That's funny, coming from you." I peer up into his eyes. They are a lovely blue-green now. Not the blue like when he's in his Archer form. The need to know suddenly overtakes my prior urge for a fight about faith. "Were your eyes green as a man?"

  He lets out a small laugh. "Yes, very green. Are they green now?"

  I study them. No, not really green at all. More like aquamarine. I've never seen such eyes in all my life. I gather myself and continue. "You seemed pretty happy when I said my faith was gone. Now all of a sudden you want me to find it again?"

  He releases me abruptly and sits up in the bed. "Will you get up, or shall I make you?"

  I take a moment to think about it but he doesn't wait. He shoves me off the bed and I plunk to the hard tile floor, a sharp pain radiating up my spine as my hip takes the brunt of the force. He's in front of me now, pulling on me, and then I'm standing there, Gideon's boxers almost falling down my legs.

  I tug them up self-consciously.

  Lucan laughs. "You smell, you look ridiculous, and you need to sit in the sun for about a week, Junco. I expect you to be well on your way back to normal by tomorrow night when I call. We have to talk and I won't tolerate your—" He stops for a moment to reconsider his word. "Quitting."

  I stare at him. His body armor is made up of tiny black scales, a very smooth metal I know from touching them over the past day or so. They clink and chink with his movements. He looks like something straight out of the angel apocalypse. All he needs is horns. "Do you ever have horns?" I hear my mouth ask.

  He shakes his head and disappears.

  Shit, I really wanted to know the answer to that one.

  Chapter Two

  Selia and Gideon are sharing the apartment I woke up in, but thankfully after I take a shower and clean up, stopping several times in there to force the tears back when my fingertips find the scars along the back of my shoulders, they're nowhere to be found when I venture out of the bedroom and into the hall.

  But there is a strange man standing out on the terrace talking on a comm. I begin to turn to bolt when he catches me. I stop and wait as he dismisses the call and walks back into the apartment in a rush.

  I step back a little at his decisive movements.

  He stops. "Sorry, Junco. I didn't mean to scare you. Gideon and Selia will be back shortly."

  I nod and retreat, hungry, but not able to subject myself to a stranger no matter how badly my stomach is rumbling.

  There is no screen in my room, there are no books, no devices to fiddle with, or comms. So I just sit on the edge of the bed and listen with my head cocked slightly for movement beyond my door. There's a small terrace but it's nighttime, and it's way too early to allow myself to look at the stars. I need to work up to that one or I'll be totally gone.

  So I just sit in the darkness and wait.

  But even after Gideon arrives—I can hear him talking as he moves through the rooms—he does not come to me. Selia says my name once or twice in a hushed whisper, but nothing ever comes of it.

  And after hours of waiting I force myself to accept the truth of what is happening. I get up and walk across the room, gulp down the dread, open the door, and walk through.

  They are playing cards on the terrace. Gideon, Selia, that guy from earlier, and several other men dressed in uniform. The Asian guy, the one who scared me back into the bedroom, nods at me and everyone turns.

  I want to shrivel up and die at the attention.

  My chest heaves as it draws in breath after breath and I'm just about to turn when Gid calls for me. "Snowbird," he says calmly. "Come join us."

  I finish my turn and shake my head, then make my way into the kitchen to find food. There's a very nice autocook—the kind we had at our house back in Council 3. We always had maids and cooks and housekeepers, so my dad never cooked and I only did on special occasions—Christmas and stuff—or when camping, but I'm a pro at autocooking. My finger traces down Gideon's menu on the side of the machine and I choose seafood. The salty smell of the ocean outside has piqued a craving.

  I stand still, dreading footsteps.

  But none come.

  The machine beeps and I set my meal on the countertop, then walk around and set myself on the tall stool. I eat it all and still, no one comes to bother me.

  And when I'm done I just sit there and stare. I can hear Selia asking to come check on me, but Gideon says no. A very forceful no.

  Selia does not argue.

  So I sit by myself.

  And come to the conclusion, after many loud and boisterous bursts of laughter from the poker-playing group later, that these people do not care one way or another if I join them on the terrace.

  So I slink back to my dark room, crawl under the familiar covers, and count the seconds until I fall asleep.
r />   When I wake his name is on my tongue once again.

  Isten.

  The tears spill out before I can stop them, but I get it in check. I need the count, I tell myself. I need it, I need it, I need it.

  "You don't need it, Junco."

  I do. I need it.

  Gideon slips into the bed beside me. "You can't go on like this. You have to snap out of it, Juncs."

  Silence from me.

  "Just let the tears out. You need to cry more than the counting."

  I shake my head. "I do not want to cry."

  He breathes out with my words. "Please don't do this."

  I sniff away the unwanted runny nose. "Do what." It's not a question. It's a half-hearted attempt to stall what needs to be said.

  "It's a sickness, Junco. You know this. How many conversations have we had about it?"

  "Too many."

  "Is that why you wouldn't come outside?"

  "No," I lie.

  He sighs and turns me around. "You can cry, ya know. No one will stop you."

  I know this. I've cried lots of times since leaving the camp behind. I've cried in front of my whole team, Tier, Ashur, Lucan. They've all seen me cry.

  But this is different. I want to count. Those little counts, the heartbeats, those were nothing compared to what I need to count now. But two weaknesses is one too many.

  So I will not cry. And I will not count what I need to count until I get rid of all the crying urges. Because once I start, I won't stop.

  "You can talk about it if you want."

  I don't want. I cannot even imagine what will come out with the words. Something bad, of that I'm sure. "Where's Tier?"

  "On Amelia." It's the same answer I get from Lucan when I ask him.

  "Why? Why is he hundreds of millions of miles away when I'm right here?"

  "I'm not sure, Junco," he lies. I know Gideon well. And that was a lie.

  "Go away."

  He does go and as soon as the door closes behind him I am up and moving towards the window. I stop myself before the sky comes into view. I stop.

  I am stopped.

  But I look, and lean forward a little, stretching to catch a glimpse.

  And when I do I smile.

  Because they're not there.

  And then I laugh. They're not there! It's cloudy!

  Gideon's boots move away on the other side of the door and I don't even care that he just caught me. I don't care. I feel the dark place inside me. It's back. That motherfucking bitch has opened up my dark place and I will get her for this. I will not rest until I have wreaked evil and destruction on everyone who had a part in it.

  That bitch violated me.

  Violated me. For two years.

  I know who I am. I know exactly who I am.

  And soon, everyone else will too.

  Chapter Three

  I stay in my room until it's almost time for Lucan to return the next day. The urge to cry is almost one hundred percent in check now. I've overcome it, like an immune system might overtake a foreign invader of the body. This makes me laugh as I stand out on the terrace. What the hell happened to my antigens, for fuck's sake? That bitch—

  Stop, Junco. Just let it go for now.

  I breathe out and the anger spews into the air like a disease.

  There are no poker games tonight. Gideon gave in and made the luxury palatial apartment off-limits to the guards. That's who all those guys were. Just guards. It seems so silly to have been afraid of them. I mean, I could probably take them all at the same time if I really wanted to apply myself.

  Stupid, Junco, they're here to protect you, not fight you.

  Right, I know that, too.

  I'm better now. Better than I was last night, that's for sure. I don't even have the urge to look up at the stars, it's not time yet. Soon, but not yet.

  "Oh, I'm so pleased, Junco!" Lucan is standing next to me with a smile on his face.

  "Pleased about what?"

  He locks his arm in mine. "You're outside, dressed, fed?"

  I nod.

  "Excellent. That's excellent."

  "What am I, a toddler? Some small child who gets a gold star for not wetting herself?"

  He laughs. "Oh, you are back." He stops to laugh again. "I was so worried about you, but see? Gideon was right, you cannot be coddled too much. It's counterproductive—counter-intuitive was what he said, actually—to be coddled."

  "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Everyone wants to be coddled once in a while."

  He nods. "Yes, that's true. Do you require more coddling?"

  I smile. "No, I've had enough, thanks."

  He remains silent as he gazes out at the ocean. It's lovely here, really it is. I mean, who wouldn't want to recover from tragedy in a place like this? Paradise. This is paradise. The beaches are white, the water is a stunning blue-green, and the temperature—mixed with the gentle wind that the Sargasso Sea is famous for—is perfect.

  Gideon’s penthouse apartment has a view that almost makes you want to cry when the sun sets and there aren’t that many people here on our atoll, most of them live on the other neighboring islands, so it’s nice and private.

  It’s funny when I think about it. Ironic maybe. Because one of my last memories of my old life on Earth included a silent wish to spend some time on this very same massive artificial floating island.

  I wanted to vacation here. And now that this is where I ended up—it’s not enough.

  It’s never enough with me. It will never be enough with me.

  Something is wrong with me.

  Lucan clears his throat to pull me back to him, but he seems reluctant to start the conversation so I start instead. "So, do you have horns?"

  He puffs out a laugh. "I can if you want me to."

  "But would you ever, I mean, if no one ever asked you to have them?"

  He nods. "Yes, I have horns at times."

  "How about hooves?"

  He looks down at me, his eyes bright with laughter. "Hooves, too. Is that scary?"

  "Hardly," I snort. "But it is sorta cool…" We stand in silence again so I ask another one. "Is it that bad? That you can't bring yourself to say the words?"

  His smile fades and he nods. "Let's do it another time. Is that OK?"

  "Hey, it's your party, right? As long as it won't kill me to not know, I'm good with denial."

  He laughs again. "It will not kill you."

  "Good, then let's talk about Tier. Where is he?"

  "In the Band. On Amelia. He's been running the worlds since I left. I've been back a few times, mostly to fight with Gib and Rache. We are like brothers in that respect. We often fight, but nothing too serious. They've forgiven me for leaving."

  Oh. That was an unexpected revelation.

  "But," he continues, "they have never cared for Tier, so they are still angry about that."

  I snort at this. "Yeah, I guess. I mean the whole Deliverance thing, right?"

  "Right. Yes. But it turned out better than expected?"

  The question mark at the end surprises me. "You have to ask?"

  "You came out behind on that one, Junco."

  He's right. I'm the only one who lost that fight, besides the people I killed to get the privilege of killing myself, that is. "Well, I'm glad you and your brothers are on better terms and all, but when can I see Tier?"

  "He will come soon. Let's not talk about Tier, let's talk about the future."

  "I thought that was for another time?"

  "No, that was a conversation about you, Junco, and what you are now. That can wait, I think. But the future is upon us. We must get ready for it. Very soon the High Order will be here to judge me and if we're not ready for them, it will not turn out well."

  "Not turn out well, as in… they might be angry? Or not turn out well as in the end of the world?"

  "The latter."

  "Oh." Well, that's just wonderful.

  "But we have a plan and we will require your help. Will you
help us?"

  I shrug. "Sure, I guess. Is it difficult, what you need?"

  He shakes his head. "No, not difficult, it just requires accurate timing."

  "OK." I mean, really. What am I gonna say? Hey, thanks for rescuing me from my evil mother who violated my body for two years, no, sorry I can't help you evade aliens when they return to Earth to punish you, whatever that means?

  No, obviously I'm not going to say that. "What happens if we don't have the timing down?"

  "Many people will die, Junco."

  "How many?"

  "It depends. Tens of millions if we are lucky and all goes well. Tens of billions if we are unlucky and are unable to get things working in time. Everyone, if we fail to initiate."

  "Oh."

  He looks down at me and brushes a fingertip along my cheek. The chills run up my spine and burst out onto my arms. He notices and the heat rises in my face. "I need you, Junco. I require your help. Will you help me?"

  His words are so soft I almost don't recognize them as Lucan. "How could I ever say no? I mean, I will help, want to help, but you don't really think I'd refuse, do you?"

  "I don't know you very well, I have to admit. You are capable of quite a bit more than I imagined. Gideon has revealed some things and…"

  I lose track of his words for a moment. "What things?" I ask, interrupting. "What did Gideon tell you?"

  "You had a difficult childhood, that's all."

  I frown. "Please don't ask about that. It's my past, do you understand? If I wanted to share it, I would. It feels… wrong for you to know things that I've kept close."

  "I do understand, Junco. I've kept things close myself. I didn't ask, he simply… offered. As a way of explanation."

  Explanation of what?

  I know he hears that question inside my head but he chooses to ignore it.

  "I have to go now. I cannot stay, but Ashur is around, just ask Gideon or Selia to call him if you need anything."

  I nod. "OK."

  "Try and relax for a few weeks, Junco. Think of this as a vacation. Rest. Will you rest?"

  Oh, the irony is back. I almost laugh but I’m afraid that might cause Lucan to worry about my sanity. So I simply shrug. "Sure, whatever."