a big storm breaks. Navaa opens her mouth and, well, it isn’t singing as much as her own vocal cords being bowed over one another. It’s more instrumental than simple humming.
I can feel the power she is pulling from me. This is my tone, from my Earth that I’m hearing, the one that’s playing at the same frequency in my head. And then, I see it. At first it is a tiny dot of green. A neon speck that begins to spin out like a pinwheel firecracker. The noise in my head goes away. The proximity of the Rift is somehow dampening it. The green looms larger and larger, changing color and form from eggplant purple to jet-black. This is the Rift to my home. Navaa has actually done it.
My mouth gapes and then she takes her hand off my shoulder and the portal closes in on itself and disappears. Navaa simply looks at me with her eyebrows raised.
“How many Citadels can do this?” I ask in a rush. I don’t know what just happened. I’m not even sure something did happen. It must have, but I can’t get my mind to believe what my eyes have just seen.
“I don’t have exact numbers. Eighty-seven on this Earth. I don’t think the Karekin or Settiku Hesh have this ability, and I’m fairly certain they didn’t give this mutation to the Akshaji because they are too unpredictable.”
“That’s a diplomatic way of saying they seem to like all the killing, right?”
“Yes. The Akshaji are a race we haven’t had any luck with in terms of recon. Hopefully, with the humans as allies, that will change. Either way, I don’t know. It could be hundreds, or thousands. I don’t even know if the gift works the same way in all the different races.”
“And you really don’t know why? I mean it’s a cool trick, but we’re soldiers. They trained us to fight big scary things. How does this ability help with that?”
“I honestly do not know. My best guess is to have a force of Citadels that can ferret out and capture enemies that are hiding on an Earth they don’t belong in. Rogue Rifters cannot hide from a Kir-Abisat.” All I can do is sigh in frustration. The Faida may look like celestial beings, but they certainly don’t have all the answers.
She must sense my anxiety. “I am offering my help. It isn’t easy, but as a Citadel you already understand discipline and focus. You have the tools. I can teach you how to use them. However …”
“However, it requires trust, from both of us,” I finish for her.
She nods.
There’s nothing I would love more than to trust the Faida completely, but they are wily and arrogant. Sure, I think they want to be on the same side as the humans in defeating the Roones, but I get the feeling that they want to be in charge—both during and after. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this whole crazy mess it’s that I’m not giving up my power to anyone, ever again. Still, if things continue going as they are, I won’t be much use to anyone in this condition. I don’t think I have much of a choice.
“I can see how I would have to trust you,” I begin as I fold my hands together on my lap. I want Navaa to see that I’m open, amiable. “I don’t know why you would need to trust me. I can’t transfer this noise into your head.”
“No. But you could open a Rift and I could get drawn into it. That’s why I need to get a gauge on how far this ability of yours goes. What if your trigger is emotion? What if you’re angry while walking down one of our hallways and accidentally open a Rift there? I don’t know what you can do, so I need you to show me, to prove you aren’t a threat.”
“But the sound blockade—” I begin to protest.
“You got through the sound blockade. Maybe it was your enhanced technology, but maybe not.”
“Fine,” I tell her because something has to give, one way or another. “What do I have to do?”
Navaa rises gracefully from the bed and walks across the concrete floor. “Stand.” Navaa has both arms reached out, palms up. I go over to her and put myself in front of her hands. “May I touch you?”
I’m not gay or bi and on this Earth pansexuality could be the norm or it could be unheard of, so it doesn’t really matter, but I joke anyway, “Aren’t you worried about the Blood Lust?”
“‘Blood Lust?’”
“Yeah—you know …”
And then it hits me: she may not know. I think of how easily Arif took me in his arms and carried me up to the level with our rooms. He didn’t even hesitate. Do they all have control over it, or …
“The Roones—they didn’t … change you, did they? Turn your sexuality against you?”
“What? How do you mean?”
So I tell her. About the abuse we’d experienced, and how it manifested. I gloss over some of the parts—no need for her to learn about the soap opera developing between me and Ezra—but for some reason it feels good to tell someone else who would actually understand what it means to be manipulated by the Roones.
After a moment, the look around Navaa’s eyes softens, but the last thing I want is pity. They don’t have the Blood Lust, but then again, neither do I now.
“Do whatever you need to,” I tell her quickly, wanting to be done with this conversation. Still, my instincts are hammering away at my gut like a battering ram. Not because of the Blood Lust, but just at the thought of making myself so vulnerable to such a powerful woman.
“I’m just going to place my hands on your shoulders,” she tells me as she does so. “It is easy to get lost in the noise and it’s important that you have an anchor in these early stages. You may experience vertigo or lose your sense of time and space. The pressure of my fingers will remind you that you are here and you are not falling.”
“Great. Sounds awesome,” I say in English under my breath.
Navaa chooses to ignore me, but I think she gets the tone. “Now, close your eyes and focus on the sounds inside of your mind. The pain is coming from dissonance. The strongest frequency is the one that belongs to you, but the others are fragments of tones that you have pulled along with you from the Rift. You are the boat, the water is the Rift, and the wake is all the different Earths that linger.”
I do as Navaa instructs, or at least I try to. It isn’t just a question of hearing all these different tones. If it was only hearing, I could probably ignore it or tune it out. But the sounds are trapped inside of me and not just in my brain. There isn’t a stretch of my skin or a bone or a joint that isn’t filled with noise. Navaa had been right. Giving in to this is disorienting and I am surprisingly glad of her sure and steady hands on my shoulders. “All you are hearing right now is the disparate tones, but what you can’t yet discern is the rhythm. This is what regulates this ability. We are all creatures of rhythm. Our hearts beat steadily. Our pulse and blood keep the same time. There is a clock inside of every living creature that tells us when to sleep and when to awaken. This is what you must tap into. Start with your own heartbeat. Find it. Concentrate on that.”
Navaa takes my hand and pushes it up to my neck, to my carotid artery, and I am grateful. I’m not sure I would have found it without being able to actually
