30
You want to know where winds come from
"You're here. I'm impressed." Fernando pulled the door shut behind him and leaned against it. He took a pack of cigarettes from inside his jacket, though he didn't shake one out to smoke; he just held the pack casually and waited for me to say something.
I watched him from my vantage point next to the window, where I'd already gauged the glass to be weak and the drop manageable, should the need arise. Clearing my throat, I tried to sound strong as I said, "What do you want with me?"
Fernando scowled. "You have questions, I have answers. That is why you came, right?"
"Maybe." Actually seeing Fernando again, I felt torn by conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I felt like I'd been played, set up in some way. But on the other, I just wanted him to hold me. I didn't like feeling this confused, this overwhelmed, and I was fully prepared to take it out on him. "What did you do to me, the other night? You screwed up my visions."
His eyebrow went up as he cocked his head and regarded me with unveiled speculation. "I could ask you the same question."
His attitude seemingly one of intimidation, his words slid past with only partial meaning for me. I felt only anger, the slow smolder of wounded pride, and now it flared into a full burn. "Humor me."
Fernando's expression softened, but only slightly. He took a deep breath and said, "You affected my gift. The Sight. It's always been small, and quiet, just enough to cause trouble – until you. Care to explain yourself?"
I gasped. His arrogant comment from a moment before suddenly hit home, and my sense of reality tipped a little. "I don't get it," I murmured, pacing a few steps before sitting numbly on the edge of a desk. "I affected you?"
He nodded gravely and stepped toward me. "Yeah, you did. I've never had that happen before, though I have heard of such things."
"Wait, wait, wait," I blurted, waving a hand in frustration. "No, you messed me all up! How did you do that?"
Fernando smiled then, gentle and warm and impossibly reassuring. "So it did flow both ways. How very strange."
"I should report you," I stated, training taking over for emotion. "I should tell them what you did."
"Why? So they could harness us together and make you even stronger?" He shook his head. "This isn't about them, Bradley. Unless you make it so." He regarded me with calm eyes that seemed just a little sad. "Your friends have told you all about me, yes?"
"They told me you're a dealer," I retorted sharply. I was determined not to trust this guy, no matter how much I wanted to. Images of Trevor lingered in my head: his laugh, his desperation, his empty bunk. "You target telepaths."
Fernando sat down in front of me, folding himself neatly to the floor. He tossed the pack of smokes to land by my feet. "I am a smuggler, yes," he stated simply. "Telepaths need, I provide."
"They ran from you."
"They always run. It's part of their conditioning."
I frowned at him. It was like talking to the Cheshire Cat: riddles within riddles. Absently I took a step away from him and started to pace again. "You like it when they run?"
"It makes them feel better, so yes, I gloat." He shook his head and added, "But I do not chase them."
I blinked, stopping in my tracks. That wasn't one of the answers I'd anticipated, it didn't make sense in this place. This guy confused me down to the bone, and it was only getting worse.
Fernando held his hand out to me. "I confuse you, don't I?"
I shivered; something about him speaking my thoughts aloud gave me chills. I took hold of his hand and murmured, "Yes. You do."
"Come, sit with me. They can see you through the window if you stand there."
I sank to the floor, sat facing him. In the silence, I picked up the pack of cigarettes; it was very nearly full.
He smiled amiably and asked, "Do you smoke?"
"Not usually. Sometimes," I replied, feeling a little incoherent.
"Me neither. Occasionally," he said, his tone light. "Keep those. They're good for paying tolls."
"Thanks." I tucked the pack into my jacket.
There were so many questions spinning through my head, and I had no idea where to start. I found myself just staring at him, very aware of his greater size, the scent of fire that seemed to cling to him, the impossibly long eyelashes that veiled his eyes like smoke. Fernando exuded confidence and calm dignity, not the arrogance he'd been projecting in the lunch room. Unable to reconcile any of it, I heard myself ask, "Who are you, really?"
He shrugged and leaned back against a desk. "I am just Fernando. But I don't think that was the answer you came here for."
"What did happen the other night?" I blurted, needing that answer to set myself right again.
"As I said, I have the Sight, too," he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. "Nowhere near as strong as yours, just enough to get me in trouble. The teachers think I cheat. But I do not, I study hard, and sometimes I See the answers." He met my gaze and stated, "You changed that. I have not felt right since then. The Sight is stronger now. It is as if my soul has caught a glimpse of something just over the horizon, and wants nothing more than to find it again."
My hand rose to my mouth and I started absently chewing at the side of a fingernail. This couldn't be real. The same strangeness that I'd experienced had affected him too, but how?
In psi theory class, they'd talked about talents having resonance with each other, but it wasn't something that Esset could measure or even prove for sure, and I'd never heard of it affecting precognition. But somehow, after I'd wandered alone for so long, he had put me back in my orbit. And apparently I had knocked him right out of his.
"It's crazy," he murmured, "I know. And no, I haven't told anyone. That wouldn't be prudent, for either of us."
I tried to ignore the gentle accusation in his statement, coming in the wake of my own verbal gauntlet, then winced as my restless gnawing worked through the toughened skin on my finger and hit something sensitive.
He caught hold of my besieged hand and tugged it away from my teeth, enfolding it between both of his. His eyes smoldered with mystery.
I cleared my throat, tried to remember the questions I'd wanted to throw at him only minutes earlier. Questions and accusations, none of which seemed relevant anymore.
Fernando tilted his head and frowned slightly. "What? What is that look?"
"Just thinking," I murmured. "About you."
"Your friends told you things that worry you, didn't they?" He shook his head; I couldn't tell if he was angry, or sad. "In life, half of everything you learn is only someone else's opinion, unless you are either very lucky or very wise. The lucky manage to avoid that trap. The wise recognize it for what it is and use it to their own advantage." Fernando leaned toward me, gazing into my eyes. "I will never lie to you. Is that enough?"
I swallowed. "What am I to you?" I whispered, giving voice to the only question I had left.
Fernando cupped the back of my head and pulled me closer, meeting me halfway, his lips soft and warm against mine and tasting of cinnamon.
As the Sight trembled and bucked at his touch, Fernando gently broke the kiss, allowing me to fall back into the present without too much disruption. His voice was husky as he said, "You tell me."
"I'm just Bradley," I whispered, still tasting him on my mouth.
"And I am still just Fernando."
'Nando…
If this is a dream, I don't ever want it to end.
"Are you all right? You're trembling."
My heart thudded against my ribs. Time had just skipped. I clung to Fernando, my only solid reference for 'now', and tried to clear my head. Something terrible waited for me, sometime in the future, and I couldn't See when or what or why, only that I wouldn't want to wake up anymore.
I am smiling, though I don't think my expression has changed. So this is what that vision meant…
"What time is it?" I heard my voice rasp against the still air of an unused classroom.
"Que horas são?" Fernando lifted my hand and tugged back the sleeve for me, showing me my watch. "You only lost a couple of minutes."
"Que hora es?" I murmured, recalling the little bit of Spanish I'd learned ages ago.
Fernando shook his head. "Not Spanish. It's Portuguese."
"Oh." Slowly my breathing returned to normal, the vision and time slip fading to a vague memory that seemed to anchor in both past and future. "How did that go, again?"
He smiled and kissed my fingertips. "Que horas são – what is the time?"
I repeated it a few times until my accent sounded almost passable and my time sense stopped freaking out. "Will you teach me more?"
His eyes gleamed like a carefully banked fire. "Anything you wish." Then he gestured toward my watch. "But we should go now. Don't worry," he added as though hearing my unspoken complaint, "we'll see each other again."
"Be careful," I whispered. "My mentor –"
"Shhh," Fernando murmured, "that's not even an issue." He gathered me into his arms for one more moment before walking me toward the door. "You watch out for yourself, Bradley. I can't be everywhere." His warning chilled me in spite of his intense warmth.
As I left the classroom and sought out more populated areas in which to vanish, my mind replayed our meeting. I hoped it would bring new insights, but all it did was add to my confusion. I still couldn't reconcile Fernando himself with all the rumors about him; this only made me feel more vulnerable.
A whisper of Sight brought me up short. I ducked back into a doorway as someone stepped out of the stairwell at the end of the hall. Slow steady footsteps sounded dull against the tile, coming toward me.
I didn't have to see to know who it was. I'd recognize that sound anywhere: the unhurried tread, the softly rasping breath. For a moment I had the awful feeling that Herr Sonndheim knew exactly where I was and who I'd just met with. I felt trapped, though I'd done nothing wrong.
:Do not be afraid of him.: Fernando's voice rang softly through my mind, and I wasn't totally sure I'd really heard him. Then: :Go, now.:
I swallowed and stepped back into the hall.
Herr Sonndheim paused, looked at me quizzically. "Herr Crawford. I understand that congratulations are in order?"
I blinked. "Sir?"
Sonndheim smiled that nasty proprietary smile and said, "Frau Sheffield has noted some progress recently. Pity that your mentor hasn't been more helpful, but these things come as they will, do they not?" He nodded as though confirming something to himself. "Keep up the good work."
"Sir!" I saluted him, not sure if that was the right response but all out of ideas.
Sonndheim smirked a little, but inclined his head in acknowledgement. He resumed his seemingly casual walk, and I turned to go.
"Oh, Herr Crawford?"
I paused.
"Tell your new friend that I am still watching him, with or without you in the picture. Good day."
A/N:
You want to know where winds come from
"Astronomy" – Blue Öyster Cult Secret Treaties
Resonance. Riddles. Reconciliation. Bradley is being drawn into something beyond his understanding, something at once fascinating and perilous. Is it love? Curiosity? Or something more powerful than either?
Questions breed more questions while the Cheshire Cat grins and goes about his business.