Strains

“Elizabeth, come on wake up.”

Warm light was resting on my eyelids and I feel too sick and tired to open them.

A hand begins to shake me violently.

I roll to my side and spill out whatever remains in my stomach. This time, when my vomit hits the stone floor it doesn’t disappear. This isn’t even the same floor from a minute ago.

We aren’t underground anymore. Overhead isn’t stone, but an overcast twilight sky. We’re in an alleyway that I recognize, but how?

“Are you feeling alright?” Matthew asks from beside me.

“What happened?”

“We’re in the living world. I’m guessing this is a place you were thinking of. Come on, we can’t spend all night in an alley.”

He helps me to my feet.

“Where’s Caiden?”

“Not my concern at the moment. Is there a hotel nearby?” He pulls off his enforcer robes and folds them in his hands. Neither of us is dressed for the cold and salty sea air.

I look into the picture window of a shop that looks like it’s been closed for some time. The wooden sign above the door is missing, and the once-gold lettering on the window is worn away. But I still recognize it as the candy shop I was at just a few weeks ago. How could this have happened in such a short time?

Matthew takes my hand and walks me out of the alley. People are milling about, going to restaurants, and taking in the ocean view. I was here a month ago, but it feels alien to me.

I’m still struggling to grasp it all when Matthew pushes me onto a bench overlooking a small stretch of beach and the ocean beyond it.

“Unless you want to spend all night out here, I think we’d better find a place to stay,” Matthew says beside me.

He wants to find a place to stay, but I just want my stomach to stop flipping. I don’t understand what’s happening. Are we really Topside? If we are, why does it feel so weird?

He sighs heavily and leans back on the bench.

“If talking will make you feel better, let’s talk,” Matthew says.

“About what?” I’m shaking, and I don’t think it’s from the cold.

“Whatever you like, as long as it means you help me navigate this place afterward.”

I don’t even know how I’m supposed to formulate a question to ask him right now. My mind is still in a fog, and my vision isn’t much better. White lines flood my view a series of spider webs.

“Just close your eyes, relax. It’s probably just the after-effects of you creating a portal.”

I lean forward. “Wait, I thought that was Caiden.”

Matthew eases me back into the bench.

“No, that was definitely you,” he says simply.

“Me? But how?”

“How am I supposed to know how your strain works? We were there, then you got a strange look in your eye and started thinking about candy. The ground vanished, and now we’re Topside.”

Slowly everything Caiden had said before spills over me like a bucket of ice water. I jump off the bench.

“You lied to me.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

I narrow my eyes.

“Tell me the truth, Matthew. All of it.”

He sighs.

“You want me to start from the beginning? Alright then. I found you in the forest, the place I told you was your arrival point. Usually, when someone comes to Near Elysium they arrive at a portal, but you were nowhere near one and you were completely unconscious. I thought you had come through the portal and collapsed in the woods somehow, so I killed you and went to check the portal myself.”

“You’ve killed me twice now?”

“Sit down and don’t interrupt. So I killed you, didn’t find you at the portal but at that spot in the forest again. I thought I was going crazy. I tested it a few times more after that.”

My jaw drops. He clears his throat.

“When I was sure your arrival point was there in that meadow, I waited until you woke up. The minute I saw your eyes, I knew you were a psychic with a strain that let you bypass the portal.”

“Just you being there would be hard enough for the council to grasp. There was no way they would let someone with a strain like yours stay in Near Elysium. And honestly, I thought saving you would make up for all the souls I had a hand in trapping.”

“Still, I had to know what kind of person you were, so I looked at your memories. I know you don’t remember seeing or talking to me at that point, but you agreed to trust me when I told you your existence in Near Elysium would be impossible if you remembered everything. I admit, I only planned to take the barest of memories from you, but…I got carried away and ended up shaving off a few years more than I intended.”

“What the hell do you mean by ‘years’?”

“I’m not done. I set up for Hercules to find you. And yes, when you became my student I started poisoning your food. I just didn’t want to risk your strain activating in a class or if you got in a fight.”

“But if it had, then I would have come back here. I would’ve been able to live my life,” I counter.

“Caiden wasn’t lying when he said psychics get to choose where they end up, Elizabeth. You didn’t want to live, because you didn’t have anything to go back to. And trust me, you still don’t.”

I scoff. “Trust you? How can I believe that when you’ve lied to me all this time? Screw you, I’m going home.”

He looks at me blankly. “I’m telling you-“

“I don’t care what you have to say.”

I stomp off and walk onto the sidewalk. The street is busy, and the sun is still hugging the horizon. Which should mean…

Down the road, a red trolley makes its turn, heading this way. I step underneath its stop sign. Behind me, Matthew stands in my shadow.

“Go away.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go, and you’re still my responsibility.”

“We’re not in Near Elysium so you’re not my facilitator anymore, Matthew.”

The trolley stops in front of us and the doors swing open. Luckily there is no fare for the ride and it should drop me off within walking distance of my family’s house. Matthew gets on behind me and forces himself into the seat next to mine.

“Let’s get through tonight, and if you don’t want me around anymore, then I’ll go,” he says.

It’s not like he’ll leave me right now even if I asked him to.

“Fine,” I grumble.

The trolley slowly winds its way through the tourist-centric district, passing by shops, restaurants, an aquarium, and assorted street vendors. Then it drives up the hill, passing a botanical garden, the new mental hospital, the church mission that I spent too many field trips at, my college campus, and then, at the end of the line, city hall. The last stop is the closest to my house.

It’s part of the old town district. What it lacks in ocean views, it makes up for in large oak trees and perfectly manicured green lawns. After a mile of walking, we end up at the house I had lived in my whole life.

It’s one of the more conservative on the block. It has a second story, like the ones surrounding it, but a more modest-sized lawn and only a single-car garage. The red brick façade warms up my insides even as the night air settling in gives me goosebumps.

There isn’t a car in the driveway, but the light inside is on. Either Dad forgot to turn the lights off again or one of my parents is home. What would they say when they saw me? I can only hope Mom is home instead of Dad, I’d probably give him a heart attack. Mom is much more level-headed.

Matthew places a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t.”

I shrug his hand off and walk up the brick path to the front door. I decide to knock instead of ring the doorbell. Maybe they’ll just come to the door instead of looking out of its camera.

My heart is thumping through my chest so hard it’s almost painful. I’ve got to watch myself now, I can’t die the very same day I came back.

I knock again. Still no answer. Maybe no one is home.

I’m about to ring the bell when the door opens and I’m standing face to face with an old woman I’ve never met before.

“Yes, miss?” she says, squinting at me with her ninety-year-old eyes.

“Oh. Hi, I, was just wondering if the Watson’s were at home?”

“Watson’s?” She shakes her head. “I don’t know anyone by that name. You must have the wrong address, dear.”

“Sorry about that, our address book must be outdated.” Matthew attempts to pull me away from the door, but I stand firm.

“When did you move in?” I ask.

“Oh I just got here a few months ago, but my son bought this house two years ago.”

Two years ago?

“Ma, shut the door. We aren’t interested in anything you’re selling, thank you,” a voice crackles from the doorbell camera.

“Don’t be rude, Carl,” the old woman scolds. “These nice people were just looking for the Watsons.”

“Watsons? We don’t know any Watsons.”

“They used to live here, do you have any idea where they may have gone?” I ask.

“I got this house at an estate auction. Whoever the Watsons are, they’re probably dead. You know what, yeah I’m sure of it, they had a daughter, I think she was in the paper a few weeks ago. Nutcase.”

“Carl!”

“Ma, go back inside already. You’ll flare up again.”

I’m about to press further when Matthew takes my arm more forcefully.

“We wouldn’t want that. Sorry for the intrusion, good night.”

Matthew pulls me by the arm all the way down the street. We walk back to the trolley stop. Matthew unfolds his cloak and uses it to cover my shoulders, then he pushes something into my hands. I turn it over.

“Why are you giving me your wallet?”

“Go through there and see if I have any appropriate currency. I spotted a few hotels on the way here, we’ll need to get one.”

He’s not wrong. Damn him for never being wrong.

No, now is not the time to fall apart. It’ll just make everything worse.

The trolley pulls to the curb and we get on, taking seats all the way in the back. I go through Matthew’s wallet. Near Elysium had students from every corner of the world, and the contents of Matthew’s wallet reflect that. There are only a few American bills inside, along with some yen, euros, and literal gold coins.

“How’s it look?” he asks.

“It looks like we’re broke. At least until I learn the exchange rate of these,” I say, pointing to the foreign money.

He sighs.

“Plan B then.”