A Sense of Dark
Chapter Ten
by PenguinKye
October 12, 199X—5:10 PM
Unmei got here forty-five minutes after Crawford called her. I saw her park her car (which was wierdly mundane; she's never seemed like a person who would have a car) beneath my window, swinging the keys as she stepped up to the door. She was unworried. She just left it there, she, a Talent who laughed in the face of Eszett—she was unafraid to park her car right in front of Eszett's favorite pets' house, as though she were a normal visitor. As though we had visitors.
The thing about her was that she could do that, and it wouldn't matter, because she was strong enough to fight them even if they decided to acknowledge her presence. And for the most part, they found it easier…safer…to pretend she wasn't there at all.
Unmei scared me.
I went to Brad's office and knocked on the door (soft, so he wouldn't jump out and bite me). There was no answer. Another knock, a little louder: nothing. I wandered away from his door and wove to the kitchen. Not there. To the living room, such as it was. Not there. As dangerous as it was, to the bathroom.
I knocked, and there was a growl of response.
"Crawford?" I said.
"What?" he asked sharply. No, no, no. Crawfish mode. I didn't want to deal with it, I didn't want to hear it. I was still full to the brim with adrenaline and apprehension from Schu, and Crawfish would push me over the edge.
I just hoped he wouldn't do it until I had Weiß to take it out on.
"Unmei," I told Crawford stiffly, and started my retreat. Before I'd taken more than two steps, the door was flung open, and Crawford stood there, fully clothed, unhurried. There was no toilet flush. There was no sign of bandaids. I hadn't even heard the sink running. So what had he been doing in there at all?
"Where?" he said brusquely.
"On the stairs," I told him. He brushed by me and opened the front door with irritating style. I could still feel his bad mood pushing in around me, but he stood at the door as the perfect host, oozing calm and amused detachment.
I hated Crawford so much of the time.
Unmei, on the other hand, scared me, but I loved her. Not in person, she always sounded so distant, and she was—her power was incredible. It separated her from other people by its own force. But her physical presence was not the inaccessible, cold, aweing thing her power was. She was as variable as a chameleon. Even though you could always feel the strength beneath the surface, she switched from happy to formal to sexy to casual to angry, in constant, dizzying motion. You never knew what kind of person would be meeting you. You just always knew that it was better not to piss her off.
She was amazing.
I wondered how long it would take Schuldig to notice that she was a babysitter. I remembered that I was supposed to have told him already.
I felt a little sick.
She walked up the stairs and I saw her, unfolding eight inches at a time: hair, not quite dead black (there was some of that fuzzy brown in it) pulled into a last-minute knot at the back of her head; face, round but angled, with keen curved eyes and that precognitive smile that told you she did know more than you; only a few centimeters taller than me, not frighteningly thin, but still slender in that way Japanese women are when they don't eat too much Western food. I might have romanticized her, but it was more likely that she really was as impossible as she seemed.
If I did romanticize, I didn't care, because it was keeping me collected.
"Crawford-san," she said. Her voice was soft, but authority thrummed beneath it. "Naoe-kun." She bowed to each of us in turn, slipping out of her shoes at the same time.
"I will speak to you," she said to Crawford. "As you requested. And then I will see your mindreader."
Your. I noticed this, as I always did. Schu and Farf had never met Unmei in person, but I had met her and all of her people many times. I think Crawford brought me because I could be counted on to behave. In any case, whenever I was around for a conversation between Unmei and Crawford, I heard that your. She didn't use it for anyone but Schuldig, and it always made me wary.
Talents, especially telepaths and foreseers, rarely say anything that particular without meaning it. Subtlety of language is something they appreciate.
"And then we shall see to Farfarello," Crawford addressed me. He and Unmei seemed to have dismissed me, and had already made their way to Crawford's office door. I nodded, and they disappeared.
I padded vaguely after them, not sure of what I was supposed to do until they were through.
I thought perhaps that I should just do my duty and tell Schu. The thought made me balk.
In my head appeared a picture, a picture that seemed to nail itself to my gut and pound there. Schu, looking at me, at such a loss that he, the great Loquacious one, couldn't do anything but stare. Schu looking at me, openmouthed and empty of inspiration. His hand slipping away, his self slipping with it, pulling back for somewhere safe to lie. His eyes, tired dark and wide with alarm, his face, bruised, the great unknown and the greatest familiarity.
Maybe I owed it at least to put him at ease. As much as I could. With a breath and a swallow, I stepped forward.
I pushed softly on Schu's door and peered in. He was lying on his stomach, one arm sqashed under his chest, the other flung out over the side of his bed. His feet hung out from under his blanket, which seemed to have puddled around his knees. He was obviously deeply asleep. I was enormously relieved and horribly disappointed at the same time.
Because as uncomfortable as talking to him would have been, not talking was hurting me like spears.
Because I might have been right; he might have been lying. There might have been something ugly happening under the surface. But I made it worse, and I wanted to make this—this sudden, all-consuming fear—die down enough for me to walk without shaking.
But I couldn't wake him up for my sake.
I shut the door again, and would have gone somewhere, anywhere else—but Crawford's office was just across the hall and down a room. I could hear the hushed conversation behind the door.
I didn't mean to do it, but my feet kind of pulled me forward, and I found my cheek pressed against the door. No. Not my cheek. My ear.
"—could be—source…drought, Mis—Crawf—," said Unmei's voice. It slipped in and out of hearing with the emphasis of her words.
Crawford's deeper voice was easier to hear. It rolled through the door smooth as cream.
"Anxiety? I don't see—The only…makes me anxious is drought itself."
For a moment I thought he meant a regular drought, with water, and I thought, it just rained the other day. And then my mind went dumb for a moment and I understood all at once that he was talking about his talent. A final kick to the stunned dog Nagi.
"What ab—….Schuldig?" Unmei said softly. There was a deep pause. I tried to think of when Crawford had last said that he had Seen something. Not just implied, but said. He had warned Schu about Weiß, so just yesterday morning, early. How was that a drought?
"I don't know," said Crawford. I jumped, then realized he was talking to Unmei. "I'm unaccustom—letting concerns…subordinates dictate…talent.
"But…think there's…wrong…him?" said Unmei. I wished I could hear better.
"Yes. His behaviour is ab--mal." Ab-mal? Abnormal? Yes, of course Schu's behaviour was abnormal. I wondered if I should have told Crawford about more than the other person in our heads.
"…think…connected? …eight days…longest --out ever." Eight days. They were still talking about Crawford, weren't they? I knew he had Seen yesterday, but maybe the two visions about Weiß were some of the only ones. Not a complete drought, then. Just much dryer than usual?
"How could it be? …not so attached to subordinate."
"In any…your Schu--must be…outside force."
"Still don't think….just wearing out?"
"—see. Purpose of my…here. We will talk. But your…related perhaps. From force… --r from…motions." I pulled away from the door as silently as I could, heart pounding, before Crawford could respond.
I knew about Schu being messed up, of course. I knew more about Schu being messed up than anyone. But I hadn't known that Crawford was in a drought. Eight days…even if it was a dry spell, and not entirely visionless, that was long.
That had to be the longest he'd ever had in his life.
The thought of it was enough to freeze me. If that weren't enough, he had called on Unmei, about Schu and himself. That meant he was worried. Really worried. And if Brad Crawford was worried, I should probably have been getting ready for something truly awful. Not that I wasn't already.
I slunk to my room, and stared into the mirror, trying to force my face to look less horrified. I had probably only been there ten minutes, and I was still making faces at myself, when Crawford appeared spontaneously behind me and said in an awful voice:
"We must get Farfarello."
It was like something from a slasher movie, except that it was frightening. I jumped, my face frozen in my last fishy grimace, and heard a shriek like a strangled kangaroo come out of my throat.
"Nagi?"
I flattened out my expression and tried to pretend it hadn't happened.
"Yes?" Exactly the way to keep your cool. Look like a fish under the knife and make dying Australian mammal noises.
Crawford looked at me strangely, shook his head, and turned away.
"Come," he said. "We have things to do."
We didn't really. We just were going to kill Weiß. And at that moment it occurred to me : I wasn't the only desperate one. We were killing Weiß because we didn't know what else to do.
PenguinKye
July 4, 2005
November 8, 2005: Aaaarg! Goodbye, stats. I loved you...Sorry about the lack of updates, everyone. I'm experiencing the excitement known as The First Term At College, and my particular college is known for the kicking of ass when it comes to the workload. I actually have up to...um...fifteen done. I'll try to get those up as quickly as possible. Cheers, love, etc. PK