Idols. Margaret Stohl

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СКАЧАТЬ in bright orange robes with a lightning shock of spiky white-blond hair, skin the color of wet sand, and icy green, almond-shaped eyes focused on me, full of curiosity.

      Then she holds out her hand, and I look down.

       Five tiny green dots the color of jade.

      They glow in her skin almost like some sort of tiny, precious gemstones, but they’re not. Because I know what they are.

      The sign of the Icon Children.

      Our marking. It’s on her wrist, same as mine. I have one gray dot. Ro has two red ones. Tima has three silver dots. Lucas has four blue ones. Nobody has five.

       Had.

       Not until now.

       This little girl. From the looks of it, she’s not our age, and not from the Californias. But somehow she’s one of us.

      I feel my knees begin to buckle, and the girl takes my hand in hers. Her touch is cool, even calming.

      “Doloria,” she says again. “I have a message. They are coming for you.”

      “Me?” My voice is low and strange in my throat, a hoarse dream-whisper. The moment I speak, the unruly voices in my head begin to riot and clamor again.

      Enough, I say, but they don’t listen. They never listen, and they never stop.

      “You can’t escape them.” The girl squeezes my hand. “They’re everywhere.”

      Then I realize she’s put something in my hand. A piece of carved jade, a human face, fat and round. Just like the jades the fortune-teller gave me, back in the Hole. “Do you still have them? My jades?”

       They were for her.

       She’s the girl who matters. She’s who I’m holding them for.

       It’s a frightening, exhilarating thought—but all I can do is nod.

      She smiles as if I am the little girl, not her. “Bring them to me. You’ll need them. And here. The Emerald Buddha will help you.”

      I want to ask her what she means, but the voices grow louder and louder, and I drop her hand to press my own against my ears.

      When I finally open my mouth to speak, I can’t remember any words. Instead, only a strange sound comes out—a thundering boom that vibrates in my chest, followed by an earsplitting, high-pitched whine, and a gust of wind that whips my clothes and twists my hair straight up.

      And then I see them.

      One silver ship after another, filling the horizon until the air is so thick with dust that I can’t see anything at all.

      Instead, I smell salty copper.

      Blood running, I think.

      I feel the ground shaking.

      People running, I think.

       I should be running. I should be running and I want to wake up now.

      I squeeze my eyes shut but I know they’re still there, the Lords. I hear them, smell them. Feel them. And I know that when they leave, everything I love will be gone with them.

      Because that’s how this goes. That’s what they do.

      Make things disappear. Silence cities. Destroy friendships and families—padres and pigs.

       Every day is a battle, since the Lords came. Every day is a battle for everyone.

      “Doloria,” the girl says, touching my cheek. I see her through the chaos. “I’m waiting for you to find me.” She sounds frightened. “Hurry, sister.” Then she doesn’t say anything at all, because she’s gone.

       Sister.

      A word I have never known, for someone I have never had.

      Doloria, the darkness echoes, don’t forget.

      But it doesn’t need to be said. Not to me, not in my own dream.

      I remember better than anyone.

       Every day is a battle and every loss leaves a scar.

      I want to scream, but instead I shake myself out of sleep before even a single sound can leave my mouth.

      Screaming is a luxury.

      I open my eyes to find my hand curled around the shard, which is odd, because I don’t remember taking it out of my pack.

       Strange.

      As I weigh it in my hand, images unfold in my mind, as sharp as if I were really seeing them.

       Strange memories.

      The girl from my dream—the jade girl. The one who called me sister.

      I’ve never had a dream like that before—one that didn’t feel like a dream at all.

       Even stranger.

      I also discover, by the look of things, that we have left the desert. We are in the mountains. Green trees spike the air between the road and the distant hills. These are not desert trees, nor are they the trees of the Californias. Nothing is the same now, and I realize we are in the final phases of the last snaking lines on the badly drawn map.

      The Idylls must be nearby. There is nowhere else to go, no more lines to follow.

      This is what I am thinking as we are climbing around the highest part of the mountain pass—

      And then, just as quickly, flying off the road.

      And then, a split second later, pitching and rolling in the air.

      And then, finally, plunging our way into an icy river.

      Without enough time to pick a god—or a girl—at all.

      GENERAL EMBASSY DISPATCH:

       EASTASIA SUBSTATION

      MARKED URGENT

       MARKED EYES ONLY

      Internal Investigative Subcommittee IIS211B

      RE: The Incident at SEA Colonies

      Note: Initial communication between Fortissimo and Perses

      Note: Contact Jasmine3k, Virt. Hybrid Human 39261.SEA, Laboratory Assistant to Dr. E. Yang, for future commentary, as necessary.

       СКАЧАТЬ