Jaguar Addams - Learning Fear Part 12

He was afraid of losing her.

Afraid of trying, for fear of losing. Afraid of losing her entirely, to the wilderness she would always be. To the nature of the beast. Afraid shead get herself killed, sleep around, reject him. He was afraid head have to live without her, and so head sent her away. It had, at least, given him the illusion of control.

He breathed into himself and let go of fear. Let go of his last shred of resistance to those golden eyes that pulled at him in the dark. Let the truth be named. Face it. Have done with it. It didnat matter what she chose. It didnat matter if he lost her. What mattered was that he chose to speak his truth, admit what was in his own heart.

It might end up hurting like h.e.l.l, but his continued denial could kill her.

I choose you. I choose you, Jaguar. I choose you.

With his eyes closed, he drew back his arm and threw the last dart, heard it catch with a thunk in the board. When he opened his eyes, he saw it stuck firmly in the center. Bullas-eye. He leaned forward and covered his face with his hands.

12.

JAGUAR JERKED HER HEAD UP FROM THE MASK she was making and looked around at her students.

aDoes someone want me?a she asked. Heads rose above work in progress, but n.o.body said anything.

Shead heard someone calling her. Asking hera"no. Telling her something. But what? She shook herself. Gone. It was gone.

The most recent studio effort of the group Moon Illusion was on the disk player and the students, in their groups, were chatting, cutting out pieces of paper and plastic, gluing together string and feathers and leaves. She felt herself floating in and out of real time and s.p.a.ce, but the students didnat seem to notice.

They were busy making masks.

She set them up in small groups, each of which would design its own brand of spirituality and ritual. They had to learn what their options were before they made choices. They had to see how their beliefs were interconnected with other systems of belief, see the overlap between practice and belief. They had to argue with each other, learn from each other, examine their backgrounds, and get the feel of the sacred as it lived within them.

So she had them make masks of what they saw as sacred in themselves, because how could they understand the mult.i.tude of ways people named the sacred and lived within it if they couldnat find where it lived in them?

She realized that for good or ill, she was conducting cla.s.s very much as she conducted her work on the Planetoids. The students couldnat sit pa.s.sively and listen to her talk. They needed to get their hands and hearts into the learning. And they were integrating their learning, too. Tonight, as they sat in their groups and worked on their masks, she could see that.

Jesse was making a mask of eyes. All eyes, with something like wings around the edges. Jesse, who wanted to work in movies. There. That was his version of the sacred. Very nice, she thought.

Glenas mask was a large and meaty hand gently cradling a hummingbird in the palm. He worked slowly, taking the utmost care as his own fleshy fingers carved out the image he sought.

When the cla.s.s had discussed the idea of spirit guides, trading stories of interactions theyad had with wild animals, Glen told that once a hummingbird buzzed his ear in Grand Central Station.

aThat was weird,a he said. aA hummingbird, like trying to drink out of my ear.a aNot so strange,a she said, aIf you want to be a writer.a His jaw dropped open. aHow did youa"did someone tell you that?a She shook her head. aThe Aztec say that the hummingbird puts the song in the ear of the poet. Thatas their spirit guide. You want to write?a A slow grin had spread across his heavy face. As it turned out, he did. It was a nice moment.

And then, looking over at Taquanaas work, Jaguar saw that indeed she had kept the hair from the fight. She was using some of it to make herself a warrior womanas mask.

Katiaas mask was a drifing of black cloth over a face that kept its eyes and mouth closed. She told Jaguar shead painted something else under the surface, but she wouldnat say what it was. She just looked nervously at Steve when Jaguar asked. Katia was trying to please him and Jaguar at the same time. It was an impossible task, and one that made her lose sight of what might actually please herself.

Complicated kids, she thought. The first generation after the Killing Times. She had read that children of Holocaust survivors had borne the weight of generational fear, and a.s.sumed these young men and women had, in some sense, to do the same. Their parentsa fears worked around and in them.

She walked around the cla.s.s, looking at the work they were engaged in, commenting here and there.

aHow you doing, Steve?a she asked, stopping at his seat. As he always did, he paused before answering, keeping his face turned from hers for a moment while he considered.

aFine,a he said. aThough Iam not sure this is what you want.a He held up a piece of thick white paper with a human face on it. No surprises here. What you saw was what you got. She laughed, and moved back to the front of the cla.s.s.

aAnyone need help?a she asked, turning the music down. aReady to wrap it up for now?a Maria, at the back, called out, aWhat do we do with these things?a aYou talk to them,a Jaguar said. aAsk what they have to say about you.a aWe canat,a Steven said, shaking his head. aIn our groupas religion, that would be idolatry.a She gazed over at him. aReally? How so?a He did not quite roll his eyes at her, but she could tell he wanted to. Katia spoke up.

aThatas not true, Steven. Idolatry is when you worship something false.a Steve looked at her, surprised. aItas a false image,a he said, pointing to her mask.

aMineas not,a she replied. aIs yours?a Someone in the back of the cla.s.s said, aOoooh. Cut him down.a aThatas an interesting distinction youare making,a Jaguar noted. aHow a group defines idolatry says a lot about how theyall run their lives.a She turned from him to Katia. aWhat makes your mask real, Katia?a she asked.

Katia stared down at the face shead created, then back at Jaguar. aBecause this is who I am?a aThatas not fair,a Steven said, voice loud and high. Katia startled.

The room became hushed. Jaguar turned a neutral face to him. aWhy not?a she said.

aYouare asking us to a.s.sume a belief in spirits and soul and all that c.r.a.p. What if we donat believe that? Itas not fair to make us believe it.a aIam asking you to name whatas sacred in you, and make it into a mask. For a grade,a she reminded him. He subsided into silence. Katia leaned toward him and put a hand on his shoulder. Jaguar, watching, sighed.

aHey, how do you like this music?a she asked as an idea occurred to her.

A ripple of approval went through the cla.s.s.

aWould you like it if I brought the musicians here, to talk to you about music as a container for the sacred?a It was, she knew, the one area where they felt the spirit move them. Inside music.

aHow about if you just get them here to play?a Tony suggested.

aThat, too,a she said.

When cla.s.s ended, she stayed behind, packing up materials left over from the mask making. As she worked, she heard soft footsteps coming back down the hall and toward the room. She stooped and picked up a ball of yarn from under a desk, then lifted her head to see who it was.

Katia.

ah.e.l.lo. Forget something?a aNo. Ia"I just had a question.a aOkay. Here I am. Ask.a She moved her head this way and that, as if checking the room for hidden cameras. She brought her face close to Jaguaras and said, very softly, aHow do you know?a aHow do you know what?a she asked.

aIf youare an empath.a Katiaas eyes were glittering. Her eyes were almost drugged ora"like Emilyas eyes.

Jaguar let the question rest a moment, then, as gently as she could, replied, aMost people know when they have to ask the question.a Katiaas pupils dilated, and she sucked in air. aHow can you say that?a she asked, quick and breathy. aHow do you know that sort of thing? You could be wrong, couldnat you?a aCouldnat she what?a a voice said from the doorway. Katia startled and spun around. It was Steven.

Jaguar intervened. aKatia was asking if someone couldnat make more than one mask, because sometimes youare more than one thing at a time,a she said. aI was saying I think you can, as long as the masks agree not to fight with each other too much.a This last she said looking toward Steven. He strode over, grabbed Katia with one arm, and pointed at Jaguar with his other hand.

aYou think you got it all figured out,a he hissed. aYou donat know s.h.i.t. Wait and see.a He tugged on Katiaas arm. aCamon,a he said. aLetas get the h.e.l.l out of here.a Jaguar went to her office after cla.s.s to sit and collect her thoughts. As she entered, she stepped on a piece of paper someone had slid under her door.

A note that read, I need to talk to you. Meet me in B39, nine-thirty.

No signature. Katia, trying to hide from Steve? Someone less friendly?

Jaguar read it over three times before she realized it would tell her nothing other than exactly what it said. She wouldnat know more unless she went.

She looked at the clock. Quarter of nine. Time to attend to a piece of business first. Shead promised her students Moon Illusion, and she knew Rachel could arrange it for her. She calculated quickly, to figure what Planetoid time would be. Working hours still. Then she punched in Rachelas office number and waited.

To her surprise, when the pickup came on the other line, it wasnat Rachelas face she saw.

It was Alex.

He moved toward the screen, eyes wide with surprise, face looking tired and tense around his surprise. They stared at each other, waiting for the cognitive dissonance to settle. It had been almost three months since shead seen his face.

aIam calling Rachel,a she said at last.

Alex relaxed back into himself. aI know,a he said. aSheas out on a team a.s.signment. I had her calls forwarded to me.a She was about to ask why, then realized she didnat have to. She was a big girl. She could figure out the answer on her own. He was hoping shead call Rachel if not him.

aYou look awful,a she said.

He leaned back in his chair, placing a finger across his lips.

aYou donat,a he said.

aA little home rest leave does wonders for the complexion. Howas everything there?a she asked.

He took the finger from his lips and tapped it thoughtfully against his chin. aQuiet, Dr. Addams.a aEnjoying it?a aNot particularly. I miss you.a He could not see her hands, but he imagined them in her lap, clenching and unclenching, as the expression on her face darkened.

aEverything okay with you?a he asked.

She grinned at him wickedly. aHey, how about them Jaguars? Going to the Super Bowl this year to beat the Packers.a aI donat think so,a Alex said. aThe Packersall take aem early and often.a aWouldnat be too sure. You know how Jaguars are. Relentlessly wild.a aI know,a Alex noted. aI know that. But the Packers have a little more patience. They can stick to the task.

Did you call Rachel to discuss the football pool?a She backed off and returned to business. aNo. I wanted her to help me get Moon Illusion here. For my students. I can call back.a aNo,a he said quickly. Then, more calmly, aI can take care of it. What did you need?a She tilted her head at him, questions forming themselves and dispersing in her eyes. She stuck to business. aWhat would the funding resources be for transport and payment and so on?a aThereas the prisonersa opportunity fund for transport. For feesa"maybe Arts for Earth. When do you want them?a aThe last week of cla.s.ses, or a little before. A few weeks from now. I know itas short notice, but I just thought of it tonight.a Thatas all right. Iall take care of it. You have cla.s.s Tuesday and Thursday, right?a aBrad tell you that?a A jab at him, and it hit home.

aNo. I knew it before I sent him. Why?a aBecause I want you to stop playing Supervisor,a she said acidly. aI donat work for you anymore.a He kept his face quiet, took her anger full on. I deserve it, he thought.

aJaguar, would it help if I said Iam sorry. That I owe you in a big way, and Iam here to pay up.a She startled, and drew back. Alex pressed on. aThereas something you need to know, and I donat want it going over the lines. Can we find another way to speak?a aNo,a she said curtly. Bluntly. No explanation. But her eyes said not safe. No contact.

He frowned. That wasnat good. aIall come to the home planet. Tomorrow. We can talk then.a aNo,a she said. aDonat.a aWhy not?a aIall be out.a aOut?a aWith Ethan. We have plans.a aJaguara"this is important. This is abouta"a aIall be out, Alex,a she said. aOr, didnat I mention that Ethanas courting me a.s.siduously? Leonard might be cajoled along those lines, too, if I put my mind to it. The roomad get a little crowded with you there, too.a He stopped, and looked at her hard. He noticed how carefully closed she was keeping her face as she spoke. This was more than anger. This was caution in the face of an unknown danger. Was she trying to keep him away, tell him something, or just keep him quiet?

aWe have to talk,a he said. aYou need to knowa"a aNo,a she snapped.

She leaned toward the image of his face and opened her mouth to speak, then, unexpectedly, gave a short gasp. She pressed a hand against her eyes.

Jesus. What was that? He held out a hand, as if he could touch her through the screen.

And he saw it. The energy flow, as visible to him as if someone had poured a bucket of water around her. There, circling her, and becoming her. She, becoming that other self, and yet not changing. The shifting of s.p.a.ce and time around her, like light, like water, like fire.

aBeautiful,a he murmured. aSo beautiful.a And a voice speaking to him directly. Not over the wires. Not empathic contact. Something else. As if it strolled in the room with him, rough fur under his hands, golden eyes pulling at him, hot breath on his face.

Not safe. Donat talk donat tell nothing donat say not safe.

aOkay,a he said quietly, aOkay. But how can Ia" dammit, donat cut me off.a This last in response to the sudden blurring of the screen. It flickered, and her image was gone. He stared at his telecom.

aDr. Addams,a he said, and noticed that the machine was still registering for sound. He couldnat hear her, though. Where was she?

aDr. Addams, if you can hear me, put this in your mental filea"youave been coded by thea"dammit, Jaguar, answer me.a He brought a fist down on his desk, making the telecom jump, but doing absolutely no other good in the world.

She flipped off the telecom and sat staring at the blank screen while she rubbed her temples with her fingers. What had happened?

She could hear his voice, but she couldnat see his face. Did he cut her off?

No. Something else did. She knew this. Knew this.

But there was something else she was supposed to do. Tonight, before she went home. Something to do witha" with whom? Her brain was suddenly void of the capacity for thought.

Youare exhausted, she said to herself. Walking in power and playing pretend donat match. There was an elemental truth being spoken in her, and it took too much energy to engage with it and hide it at the same time. It was wearing her out. And there was something else she had to do tonight. Something.

She looked around the room as if the answer would be there somewhere. It was. The clock on her wall told her she was fifteen minutes late for her meeting, and how the h.e.l.l did that ever happen. She cursed prolifically, pushed herself up from her chair, and without grabbing her coat or turning off her lights, left the office, shutting the door with a bang.

She jogged down the halls and deferred use of the elevator in favor of the stairs, which she took two at a time. She might still make it, she thought as she hurtled down the hall toward the bas.e.m.e.nt level.

Then she was at the door to B39, staring down the empty hall, standing still.

n.o.body was there.

aDammit,a she exclaimed, and then stood, breathing hard.

The sound of motion down the hall caught her attention. She moved toward the door to the tunnels, stood, and pressed her hand against it. Someone in there. She pushed it open.

She walked a few steps down the tunnel and stopped again. She walked slowly, stopped to listen, then walked on. She walked, stopped, listened. Walked. Stopped. Listened.

Someone else was walking with her. Someone behind her, walking in time with her steps. They stopped when she stopped, only a faint echo of presence remaining. Brad again?

Not safe. Not safe. No contact.

The chant-shape moved inside her like a perturbed cat rolling out of dreams. She walked forward, past broken desks piled by the side of the wall, past cans of garbage heading for recycle or burn. She walked past a row of canisters labeled arcon: highly volatile. The footsteps behind her stayed their distance. The path rolled sharply downhill ahead. She walked under the tubed lighting that seemed to dim here.

Her foot slipped under her. The slope was steep and the cement worn smooth. Behind her she heard laughter and resisted the urge to go faster. To run. The lights flickered. Something wrong.

She stopped at the crest of the downslope. Darkness clicked in. Absolute darkness. No ambient light available.

Not safe. Not safe.

Her eyes peered through the dark and saw the colorless figure ahead of her. Someone. Someone walking. Now stopping and standing, looking at her. Staring at her. She made her way delicately down the cement slope. It was Emily, her starched white blouse the only visible light. She stood at the bottom of the slope, staring, eyes wide with terror, her entire body quivering.

Emily. Not safe.

aEmily?a she asked. Behind her she heard laughter. She turned to it, saw nothing. Turned back to Emily.

aDonat,a Emily hissed. aI have to tell you. I canat hide for them anymore.a Jaguar walked toward her, whispered, aWhat is it?a Emily shivered. Her skin began to ripple, as if each layer of molecules adjusted itself slowly, shifting in directions they werenat meant to go. A gurgling emerged from her throat, which she clutched with her hands. Blood appeared on her white blouse, a growing stain across her chest, and Jaguar ran, not sure if she was in her chant-shape or just herself, not sure if she was followed or not. The lights undimmed, flickered on and off strobelike, showing her Emilyas form falling over and over, continuing to fall and bounce off the wall and bounce into a garbage can, against it, slouching onto it, falling behind it.

Jaguar slipped and came down hard on her knee, unable to sound for depth in the flickering lights. She stayed down and felt her way toward the sound of expelled air, a sigh that kept repeating itself. Emily Rainer lay hunched behind the garbage cans, her lungs working against all laws of differential pressure as she tried to breathe through the great slash across the front of her chest. Jaguar pressed her hand against it.

aEmily?a she asked. aEmily?a Her hands moved over the pool of blood and someone was talking, trying to whisper and shout at the same time.

aDr. Addams?a She looked up. A young man emerged from behind the row of Arcon canisters up the slope.

She frowned.