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17. Waiting For Word

Aerith knelt beside her flowers, packing soil around her new seedlings with a trowel. It was busywork; something she didn't have to think too hard about, but enough to distract her from her chaotic mind.

She had dreamed again last night. It had woken her at two in the morning. She felt like a naughty little girl who had wet the bed, sneaking downstairs to push her sweat-drenched sheets through the ancient mangle. She knew such things as tumble-dryers existed, but they were a strictly above-Plate device. Besides, as long as she remembered to oil it regularly the mangle made less noise than a machine. She could spread her damp sheets back on her bed without her mother noticing, and the heat of life below the Plate would creep through their windows the next day to dry it before she had to go to bed again the next evening.

Going to bed was a double-edged sword these days. She wanted her dreams as much as she feared them. She knew they weren't simply nightmares, but portents of things she didn't really understand. They were yet another scrap of her elf magic showing itself, alongside her ability to make things grow anywhere, her minor healing and several other 'powers' that were really just tricks with delusions of grandeur. Aerith didn't fool herself that she was more than she was. She might be the last elf – apparently, according to some people, not all of whom were to be believed or trusted – but the elven magic ran so thin in her veins any ancestor would probably be ashamed to claim her as part of their bloodline.

The seedlings brushed her fingertips as she brushed over their leaves. One put on a burst of speed and curled a scrawny vine around her index finger, risking being uprooted by accident. Aerith smiled as she unwrapped and pushed it back like an overeager puppy.

"Now, now," she scolded. "None of that. You aren't nearly strong enough to be expending so much energy just to get my attention."

On the walls, the climbing roses shushed their assent. They had been growing for years and she still wouldn't let them comfort her by twining in her hair the way they wanted. It was difficult enough for them to grow in the city; she refused to let them exhaust themselves needlessly.

Aerith sat back on her heels. Zack had helped her plant those roses. He had brought back a cutting from some foreign place, snuck back in his kitbag along with half a dozen other things that hadn't survived the trip. She remembered his face, so apologetic as he handed over the smashed plants. He had dug out a hollow for her to plant the survivor with his gloved hands, since the last time he used one of her gardening tools he accidentally bent it out of shape with his SOLDIER strength. He had promised to replace the spade after he got back from his assignment. He had promised to come over and let her practise making dinner for him again after her last disastrous attempt. He had promised to come back as soon as he could.

That was years ago. She was still waiting for him to make good on his promises.

The roses rasped a thorny plea for her not to be sad. She still had them. The azaleas assented, as did the honeysuckle clambering over the smashed pews on the left side of the old church. Nearly every available surface was covered in some plant or other; some flowering, some not. Aerith didn't discriminate between florae and weeds; if it could grow down here, it deserved a chance at life. Where there was life, there was hope, and she needed as much of that as possible these days. Even the old pulpit was home to flourishing ivy creepers, which stuck to their own patch and didn't attempt to overtake anywhere else after she'd had stern words with them. You had to be firm with ivy. Give an inch and it really would take a mile.

"I know," she replied aloud. "But I can't help it. It's like trying to ignore a blister on your foot; you can for a while, but the more you walk on it, the worse it gets and the harder it is to ignore."

Not for the first time, she wondered what others would think if they walked in and saw her talking to empty air. When she was a little kid, her mom once found her encouraging an egg-box of watercress that had just started to sprout. Aerith realised early on that not everybody could communicate with plants the way she could. She realised, too, that it was important everybody didn't find out what she could do. Shinra had a habit of snatching away people who could do extraordinary things. There were all sorts of stories about what happened to them, none good. Aerith wanted nothing more than to stay here, with her mom and her plants and … and Zack.

She dropped her chin onto her chest. Zack had been in her dreams a lot lately. He wasn't dead. Never mind what anyone said, he wasn't dead. He hadn't betrayed anyone, either. Not Zack. Loyalty was written into his DNA the way magic was written into hers.

"Four years is too long to wait for any boy, sweetheart," her mom had tried to tell her just last week. "Zack was nice, but he's not the only fish in the sea."

"Mo-om!"

"Don't take that tone with me. I'm just trying to look out for you. You're young and pretty, and you have a good head on your shoulders, but you're wasting your youth on someone who isn't coming back for you. You need to get out more."

"I do go out."

"Only to sell flowers – which I'm also not happy about. What if Shinra starts asking questions about where you get those damned things? What will you say then? You can't claim you just found them growing in the gutters. They know how impossible it is to grow things under the Plate."

"Difficult, Mom, but not impossible."

"As near as makes no difference. Those flowers are trouble waiting to happen to you. Why you insist on going out to sell them on that silly little cart, I don't know."

Because Zack had made the cart for her. Because Zack used to go out with her to sell them. Because as long as she kept doing it, she could pretend like he was about to come puffing up to her, apologising for being late, and put a rose stem between his teeth in an attempt to look dashing and like the thorns weren't cutting his mouth to ribbons. "Because we need the money," she had said instead.

"Not if the cost of getting it is so high."

"Shinra has bigger things to worry about than me selling some posies, Mom. Vampires, for one. Or did you forget about them?"

"Don't sass me, young lady. The company isn't blind to everything else just because of the vampires. You need to keep your head down or who knows what'll happen!"

"Mom, I'm fine."

"For now! But what about tomorrow? Or the day after that? Or the day after that? What about when someone finally realises you're not –" Her mom had broken off then, but they had both heard the end of her sentence: when someone finally realises you're not normal.

Her mom didn't mean to be cruel, but four years of watching her daughter wait for the man who had abandoned her was more than her maternal instincts could handle. Aerith couldn't find the words to explain that Zack hadn't had a choice about abandoning her, just as she didn't have words to explain about the derelict church and her secret garden. She knew her mom was iffy about the whole magic thing; she worried Turks would come sniffing around again, as they had when Aerith was small enough to be picked up by a stranger in a crowd and carried off. Well-placed mommy-screaming and a crowd of people willing to snatch her back again had rescued Aerith that time, but she had been told ever since that she had to act normal or 'they' would 'come back to get her'.

Instinctively she reached up to make sure her ringlets were still over her ears. The pointed tips had sharpened and elongated as she got older. Her mom had insisted on her adopting a style to conceal them. Nothing said 'elf' like pale skin, green eyes and pointy ears.

A noise above made her look up. The roses rasped angrily. Roses were always more aggressive than other plants, though the ivy had a thing or two to say about the invasion too.

"Hello, Cissnei."

The woman dropped from her perch on the statue of the Virgin Mary. The nose had broken off years ago and her raised hand was missing. There wasn't much faith in this part of Midgar anymore. Cissnei landed lightly and came over, standing behind Aerith with hips canted, one hand placed on it while the other hung loosely by her side. To the unwary, she might have seemed at ease, but Aerith knew better. Cissnei had visited her lots since Zack disappeared and had a host of her own secrets she wasn't telling. Some were better kept than others; like her feelings for Zack, which they never, ever talked about. Ever.

"Hello, Aerith," said Cissnei. "How are you today?"

Aerith swivelled to look up at her. Cissnei was beautiful in a harsh sort of way. Her features were soft and her hairstyle very feminine compared with other Turks, but her eyes were too suspicious and made the rest of her look constantly tense. "I'm fine, thank you. Are you all right?"

"Oh, fine," Cissnei replied breezily. Aerith didn't believe her for a second. "Just thought I'd drop in to check on you."

"Did Tseng send you?"

"Ah, no."

Aerith blinked in surprise. Tseng usually sent Cissnei to try and cajole her into joining Shinra. He typically promised her a position in his Turks, citing how much safer she would be there than out in the world where her abilities put her at constant risk of being picked up by other members of Shinra. To Tseng, any human with magic should be in the Turks. Whether or not he knew she was elf – well, part-elf – didn't seem to matter as much as it had done when his predecessor, Veld, was in charge and had ordered eight year old Aerith to be snatched off the street on her way home from school. Veld had wanted to deliver her to his bosses as a test subject. Tseng wanted her as an employee. Aerith wasn't interested in either, but Tseng was more willing to observe her request to be left alone. At least until next time.

At first Aerith had assumed Cissnei was being sent out to recruit her because she was female and not as scary as some of the other women the Turks had on roll. Gradually she had realised Tseng probably wanted their shared connection with Zack to motivate her onto his team. Aerith still refused. Her dreams were infrequent and muddled, but sometimes she got clear messages and the clearest over the last four years had been threefold: Zack wasn't dead, he was in pain somewhere, and if she joined Shinra it would be the worst thing she ever did

"So why are you here?" she asked Cissnei now.

"Can't I visit a friend without getting interrogated?"

"We're friends?"

Cissnei pulled a face. "Okay, so maybe that's stretching things a bit."

"A bit," Aerith agreed. She got to her feet and brushed off her skirt. "What do you want, Cissnei?"

Cissnei let out a breath and fixed her with a business-like look. "I want to know what you can tell me about Zack."

"We've already been over this more times than I can count; I can tell you about the time we spent together four years ago, but nothing else. Why would I be able to?"

"Cut the crap, Aerith. We both know you know more than you let on. Now it's imperative for you to tell me." She hesitated. "Off the books. This isn't for Shinra. In fact, this might well get me put on their hit list if what I'm doing reached the wrong ears."

A tingle went up Aerith's spine. "And what are you doing?" she asked carefully, still trying to feign ignorance.

Cissnei's gaze was clear and frank. "I'm trying to save him. He's still alive, Aerith. I don't know what kind of shape he's in or what's happened to him since he disappeared, but I know he's alive and he's in trouble. Shinra is after him. They want to either recapture him or kill him. So whatever information you have, you've got to tell me. It might be the difference between life and death for him and his friend."

The tingle turned into an electric shock. Aerith had known he was still alive, but it was still a shock to hear someone else confirm it. Her mouth went dry. She tried to swallow before speaking again. "What makes you think I know anything you don't already know?"

"Because you have powers I don't. I have my own, but they're being blocked." That was more candid than she usually got. Aerith's mouth went even drier. "Tell me or he could die. For real this time."

Aerith slowly nodded. She closed her eyes. "I've had … dreams," she admitted. "I don't understand them, not really, but a few things keep popping up."

"What?"

"Images mostly. Some words. Smells, too, which is weird because dreams aren't supposed to be smelly." She reopened her eyes to find Cissnei nodding. "They're only flashes, but they've been coming nearly every night since last December."

Cissnei's eyes flashed. They literally flashed gold for a second with magical power. Flecks of gold crackled in her irises afterwards, thought her body language remained casual. Aerith wondered whether she realised it was happening. As far as tells went, it was an incredibly blatant one. She hoped Cissnei never tried to play high-stakes poker. "Do you remember the exact date?" she asked.

Aerith did remember, because on that day she had managed to coax daffodils to blossom in the church when she never could before. She had marked it on the calendar in triumph. "December 19th."

Cissnei nodded again. "That's the day they broke out. What else have you dreamed?"

"White. Cold." Aerith brought up what she could remember. "Paw-prints. I think he was tracking something, or it was tracking him, I'm not sure. Hunger. He's always hungry. Sometimes I hear howling, or crying, or something like that. It's eerie. Kind of sad. He's waiting for something. I don't know what, but it's important enough to make him stay in one place when he knows he should be running away."

"What aren't you telling me?"

Aerith bit her lip. "Blood," she said eventually. "Blood on snow. Red eyes. Sharp teeth."

"A vampire," Cissnei hissed. "Damn. Did he kill it?"

Aerith shook her head. Even thinking about the dream brought back her own experiences of blood and snow. That had been so many years ago, but she had got out the memory so infrequently it was barely dented and played with perfect, horrible clarity.

"Double damn," Cissnei cursed.

"He was upset." Aerith remembered the sucking sensation of Zack's grief and regret pulling him down. It had made her sob when she woke and grasped just how helpless she was. She couldn't do anything for him – except, perhaps, this. Cissnei had contacts and facilities she didn't. She could do more for Zack than Aerith could. The realisation should have smarted, especially given how Cissnei felt about him, but all Aerith could feel was gratitude that someone was on his side. "He's … he's hurting inside."

The barest hint of a wince crossed Cissnei's face. "Anything else?" she asked briskly.

"He has someone with him."

"Specimen C," Cissnei confirmed. Apparently she was willing to exchange a few of Shinra's secrets for Aerith's. Not that she had given an actual name, but it was more than Aerith had expected.

Even so, she shook her head. "No, whatever it is, it's not human."

"The vampire?"

Aerith considered this but rejected the idea. "I'm not sure what it is. It's old, though. Very old and very powerful."

Cissnei became thoughtful. She cupped her elbow with one palm and tapped the index finger of her other hand against her mouth. It was a gesture so automatic it had to be a longstanding one, but Aerith had never seen her do it before. Cissnei certainly was letting down her guard today. "Did you hear it speak?"

"No."

"Hmm." She frowned, momentarily lost in her own thoughts. "Anything else?"

"He's going to move soon."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"Any idea where to? Or at least which direction?"

"Sorry, no. I just know he's not going to be where he's been for much longer. I don't know why or where he'll go."

Cissnei waved her upraised hand dismissively. "You've given me a lot. More than I was expecting, actually. It sounds like he stayed in the mountains after breaking out. I have a few guesses why he'd do something stupid like that, but nothing concrete. The main thing is to find and get hold of him – of both of them – before Shinra does, which may be more doable now." She turned to leave.

"What will you do if you find him?" Aerith asked.

Cissnei stopped and looked over her shoulder. "What else? Save him, of course."

She turned away and took a running jump at the Virgin Mary statue, finding handholds and footholds that allowed her to climb up to the choir balcony. It wasn't safe up there with the rotten floorboards, but somehow Cissnei tripped lightly along without falling through. When she got to the far side she stopped, poised on the edge like a cat ready to spring. She was all coiled energy, her whole body lithe and enviably fit.

"Hey, Aerith," she called without looking back. "Thanks for the assist."

"I –" Aerith started to say, but it was too late. Cissnei had launched herself at the wall, scrambled up into the rafters and disappeared.

Ifalna ran. She clutched her little girl in her arms, stumbling through thick banks of snow. She had escaped out the garbage chute because Gast had barricaded the door from the other side and every other exit was blocked with armed men. She had landed in a dumpster where the slops were already submerged in the evening's snowfall. Getting out had been slippery and she had banged her shin and her elbow hard enough to draw blood. It was soaking into her thermals beneath her dress. There hadn't been time to put on a coat. The dumpster held little garbage since Icicle Inn didn't get many guests during the winter. Gast had thought that would make it the perfect place to hole up while they planned their next move. Shinra would expect him to go to a built-up area since he liked his home comforts. He was famous amongst his peers for knowing the difference between good wine, bad wine and plonk, and for always drinking tea with his pinkie raised. A frozen wasteland where polar bears outnumbered people would be the last place they'd think to look.

He had been wrong. He had been wrong about a lot of things. He had been wrong to think Shinra would just let a prominent researcher like him go. He had been wrong to think they didn't know what Ifalna was despite his falsified reports on her genetic structure. He had been wrong to think cutting and running was the best thing to do when he found out they were going to his house in Kalm without his permission to arrest her and their daughter 'for questioning'.

Nobody had cleared a path through the snow behind the inn. When Ifalna reached the area beyond the reach of the building's lights, she dived into shadows and held a mitten over her mouth to stifle her ragged breathing.

"Mommy?"

"Shh, Aerith." She put the mitten over her daughter's mouth instead. "You have to stay quiet. Whatever happens, you can't make a sound."

"But Mommy, I'm frightened."

"Be quiet, Aerith," she begged. Fear and grief made her voice shrill.

Voices and snarling heralded the sound of Gast's barricades breaking. Shinra's men had reached the kitchen and discovered she was gone. She knew her scent would alert them if they had dogs, or whatever equivalent they had cooked up in their laboratories. Gast had told her about some of the things his colleagues, Hojo and Hollander, had done with their work while he was out in the field. Years ago she had stayed with a woman whose elven blood was so thin she could hear the Planet but not touch it with her mind. In exchange for shelter and food, Ifalna had taught her how to deafen herself to the unnatural crying of a whole world in pain. The woman had been so pleased to finally sleep without nightmares she had tried to make her stay when it was time to move on. Ifalna later heard the woman had been killed by what her neighbours described as 'hellhounds on leashes' when Shinra men came to arrest her.

They had been arresting everyone with even a hint of elven blood. Ifalna didn't know how they knew where to look or who to take. The average person couldn't tell a human from a mutt, much less a pureblood elf, though there were so few of those anymore it barely mattered. Ifalna was the only pureblood she knew of since her own parents died. She didn't know why Shinra had taken a sudden interest in when elves were supposed to be extinct. The rest of the world had forgotten or decided they were just a myth, but not Shinra. One of her gifts was to sense her own kind, and so she had felt more and more of their lights snuffing out as they died, and Gast's secret investigations had revealed every death she felt was preceded by an 'arrest'. The deaths of the elves coincided with the rise of the vampires, which made her wonder what Shinra's part in this truly was and had prompted Gast to question the company to which he had always been so loyal.

Ifalna had spent her whole life moving from one place to another; usually families with a little elven blood, but sometimes not. Her gifts were stronger than anyone she met, just like her bloodline. They told her to never stay in one place too long, to live off the grid and never let her powers make her stand out. They told her who to trust and who not to trust. She could have manipulated people with what she sensed about them and lived like a queen. Instead, she chose the life of a nomad – or had until she made the mistake of falling in love with the wrong man and bearing his child.

Gast had promised he would protect her. He had promised he would find out what Shinra wanted with the elves, and then why they seemed to be wiping out the last of her people. He had failed on all counts. He had promised he would someday leave the company and his research for love of her. He had left for her, but the way he had done it had brought more problems than solutions. Shinra had chased him like an escaped piece of livestock and it had led them right to Ifalna. She knew she and Aerith were the only ones left now. She hadn't been in the room, but she also knew Gast was dead – killed trying to fulfil his promise of protecting them after his ill-conceived actions brought Shinra's wrath on their heads. She had sensed his life go out like a candle flame on the other side of that barricaded door.

And so she had run. She didn't know where and she didn't know if she would die of frostbite before she got there, but she had to protect her daughter. Shinra wouldn't get Aerith too.

Dogs barked behind her. She staggered on. Her shin and elbow throbbed. The barking got louder. Aerith pressed her face against her mother's chest, little hands clutching handfuls of Ifalna's dress. She was trembling with fear and cold. Ifalna's boots filled with snow that melted and squished between her toes. She fought on, but she was too slow and she knew it. They were going to catch her.

A four-legged monster with teeth as long as her palm leapt over the bank behind her. Ifalna turned so her back was to the beast, using her body to shield Aerith. She expected to feel fangs pierce her back. Instead, something swooped out of the sky and cannoned into the dog. It yelped and flew backwards from the impact. The bigger shape beat massive wings and landed in front of Ifalna, casting her in even deeper shadow.

"No!" she shouted, thinking it was another of Shinra's freaks. "Keep away from us!"

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help you."

Strong arms gathered her up before she could protest or the dog could regroup, but not before two others also crested the ridge. Two sets of teeth snapped at the air as Ifalna's rescuer took flight. One dog aimed for the massive wings, sending her rescuer off-balance with the added weight. The other used the opportunity to close its jaws over her ankle and bite deep. A terrible crunching sounded as it sank into and then through bone and sinew. She screamed. Spurred on by the noise, the dog brought its razor teeth together, shaking her like a terrier even as her rescuer threw off the other dog and rose into the air. The dog's paws left the ground and scrabbled at empty space as it jerked its neck from side to side, trying to pull her out of her rescuer's arms. Instinctively she kicked at its face with her other foot, screaming all the while. The dog bit harder, severing the ankle in a gush of blood. It fell back into the snow and sprang to its paws, spitting her foot out so it could bark.

Ifalna's vision swam. White heat coursed up her leg, speckling her vision with black spots. Her arms clutched convulsively, making Aerith squeak. She was going into shock. Cold air blew against her face and she thought she heard her rescuer say something, but the pounding in her ears drowned it out.

Somewhere below, guns went off. More pain ripped through her body, but it all blended together after a millisecond: one blistering surge of agony that crested crashed over her like a wave of lava. Though she fought it, the world dissolved in a flurry of growing black patches and she passed out.

To be continued …

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