I return to a city at war with itself. When the first Pliesian house is blown up, there is shock and outrage but not enough to stop the shooters from entering the second and killing 5 people. The Concilium denounces these acts and launches a hunt for the gang which has issued a set of demands including more jobs for Raia “natives”, stricter entry rules for other Trièstiand a complete ban on all foreign refugees.

That evening, darkness falls over the city, over the streets of central Raia, over the bridge els, stacked stone and construction sites, across fancy schufons, tenements and hovels, past oil drills moving like slow cobras, over boulevards of broken dreams and grit-filled mouths and hungry hands. I am in the dark living room, clenching and unclenching my hands, feeling the raised tendrils on my face. The food in the house is over. I have no choice by to head out. The girl at the grocery store is used to my hooded face by now and I avoid making eye contact.

Afterwards, on some strange impulse, I drive past the houses of the dead. Their ramparts seem torn open to the sky, their beams lost and purposeless. The debris has still not been cleared and there are streaks of human blood and feces in places.

I have to stop the car to retch. And when I see the black bile I’ve emitted, a mix of revulsion and fear curls in my stomach. I drive home in a fogged state and find an unlikely visitor. Standing outside the gates of my schufon is Ryz.

He looks as if he hasn’t slept in days. I sense he is in a state of deep shock, waves of it ricocheting off his body.

“What is it?’ I ask.

“It’s Leela. She’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” I scan his face, confused, then lead him into the house where he stands in the middle of the room as if he doesn’t know what to do.

His voice is flat when he speaks. “If I had not been tired, maybe I would have seen what happened.”

“How did she—?”

“We were at the top of the tower. Leela leaned off the railing at the tower to see how far she could lean without feeling afraid. I love this city so much, she said, and laughed. Childlike. She was such a topophiliac. It means someone who loves places. It’s not a common emotion but some people feel like they’re in love with places. Geography. Topography. Architecture. That kind of thing. Places had always held her far more than people had. Her eyes lit up like fairy lights.” He coughs, looking stunned. “This was our Friday evening routine—to explore the city like tourists. It started when I first moved to Kala Bazaar and told Leela I wanted to explore the city. She offered herself as guide. In time, I realized she enjoyed the excursions as much as me.”

“Ryz—,”

“Leela was leaning out. The next thing, her body was in the air. I was trying to catch her. I couldn’t. I watched Leela’s body fall. Like a piece of cloth. I ran down the stairs, by the time I got there, it was gone.”

“What do you mean gone?”

“It wasn’t there. The body. She was gone. I don’t know—.” He looks around my room wildly as if she might be hiding in a corner.

“Sit down,” I tell him.

He sits on the couch, staring blankly into space.

My mind is whirling. The doorbell, like an unholy jangle. Some delivery or the other. We ignore it. My hands are shaking. Leela’s bright smile, her green skirts, her vehement finger in the air when she was making a point.

In the dim light, Ryz’s face is ghastly, desperate. He looked as if he has aged a few years. A faint odor hangs about him as if he hasn’t been showering. I shake myself out of my stupor. “You have to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“It is very hard for a hybrid to die. Maybe she was injured. Somebody must have taken her to a hospital. Have you checked the hospitals?”

“Nothing.”

“You have to eat something.”

He shakes his head, but I boil some eggs anyway and he eats them without salt, slowly and in silence. After he’s done, we go over questions for hours. The room is humid with fog and unshed tears.

We've been following some members of the gang,” Ryz says. “One of them visited the refugee camps twice in the last two weeks. The gang is an anti-immigrant organization. So what is he doing volunteering at a refugee center? I want to do what Leela wanted, go to headquarters and see if we can find something.”

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I set aside my fears about what would happen if I was discovered. I owe Leela this. “We’ll go tomorrow,” I say. “We’ll have to use my powers I guess, stupefy people who see us. There’s no—,”

He hesitates. “I should tell you something.”

I wait.

“You don’t have to. I…I’m not just an enhancer.”

“What else?”

He speaks two syllables that send a shudder through me. “The fog.”

I probably gasp or make some sound because he casts a quick, furtive look at me as if he might have stumbled upon a trap. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. I’m just surprised.”

“The fog of palimpsest…” I stammer.

Ryz’s eyes are quiet when he nods. It is the oldest known power, possessed so rarely that only one such is born in a generation. The ability to be invisible, and to make others invisible. It’s one of the few powers the Concilium is unable to control and I understand now why Ryz hides out in Kala Bazaar. He would be gold for the force, a goose they’d never stop mining for eggs. I want to ask more questions but it would be intrusive and this is not the time. We talk some more about Leela, going over the same scenarios, over and over, and at some point, Ryz falls asleep, curled up on the couch like a boy. “When you die, you just don't ever do anything ever again…,” he mumbles.

By the time I wake the next morning, Ryz has already left. A washed cup by the sink tells me he helped himself to cha but nothing else. When he returns at noon, he is wearing shades and a uniform that looks very much like officer’s gear. Camouflage. From afar, he could pass off for someone in the force. Just in case. When we enter the main building at headquarters, we are already cloaked. The sensation of being enwrapped in Ryz’s fog is calming, as if I’m in a warm bath. I’m afraid that sound will give us away but loud sirens and other mechanical noises of HQ drown out our human footsteps.

We slip past security unseen but outside Eniad’s office, I am uneasy. We have to wait until she leaves. From behind the door, her voice is a low rumble and then, a deep, gravelly voice that belongs to another. The energy is a lurching, powerful thing. A lure. I recognize it. Osiris Manatios.

“If this is true, they must be stopped,” Osiris says, “but the Corporation can’t lend its mercenaries at this point. They’re busy with issues on the Omeiran border.”

“We’re looking at civil unrest,” Eniad says. “Citywide destruction. Targeted killings.”

“They’re a tiny group, Lori. Hang on for a bit. Let’s get the situation in Omeira under control and my guys will be free to investigate whatever this little group is up to.”

I have never heard anyone call Eniad by that name and some instinct makes me back away.

“What did you get?” Ryz hisses as I pull him into a nearby bathroom.

I tell him in low whispers. “She goes to the training center at noon, we will have one hour at that time to—,”

“Sshh.” His face tenses and he pulls me closer as someone opens the door. Osiris strides into the room, his tread heavy. My breath is caught like a bird. Osiris pauses, sniffs the air, then goes into one of the cubicles. I clutch at Ryz’s t-shirt as we try to stay as still as possible.

When Osiris emerges, he washes his hands, remains standing before the mirror for a while. He wipes his hands and applies moisturizer from the little bottles lined up on the shelf. Excruciatingly slow seconds. Ryz grimaces in concentration. A drop of sweat winds its way down his face.

Osiris sniffs the air again, as if he can smell us. I feel the inconvenient urge to giggle. When he leaves finally, I drop to my haunches. “Too close.”

Ryz lets out a breath. “I agree. We should’ve gone into one of the stalls.”

“What if he decided to come in there.”

“That would’ve been unpleasant.”

And at that, we’re both laughing, despite shock and heartbreak, guilty about finding laughter in ourselves at such a time.

Eniad is still in her office and we have no choice but to give up. I almost punch the button in the elevator. “I hate being here,” I say.

“Nobody can see you.”

“What if there’s a Kild around with x-ray vision or something?”

“That would be unfortunate.”

“Maybe this isn’t the best plan.”

“You have a better idea?”

We are outside by now, walking quickly to where we’ve parked three gullies away.

“Maybe we should go back to the camps,” Ryz says as we get in the car.

“What are they like?” I ask, curiosity taking over.

“People packed in like bugs. Children crying. Not enough hygiene or water.”

“Why did you go there?”

“I was curious. I’d read about them in class.”

He stares out the window and I sense a tension between us. Maybe I overstepped by asking a personal question. In working together to find Leela, I forgot his earlier disdain.

“I didn’t mean to—,” I start to say.

“You didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. Your guilt is getting tedious.”

“That’s out of line.”

“Tell me I’m wrong. You’re laboring with it right now. I can’t read minds like Leela but I can see that.”

“If I’d listened to her and followed up on the gang—,”

“Do you always make it about you?”

“That’s not fair. If you’d rather be alone, you can get off here,”

He shakes his head quickly. I drive in silence for a while, exhausted and irritated, but trying to be patient because I know he is in grief.

“Maybe you’re right,” he says. “This is pointless. I’ll keep trying to find out more about this gang. I’ll call you if I need you.”

“I want to help.”

It takes more energy for me to cloak both of us and right now, I’m not high on energy.”

“Why did you involve me in this then?”

“You know your way around HQ.”

“Why don’t you…come over for a while?” I am as surprised by my offer as he is. “I mean—I could use the company.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I’m not company right now. You just want to keep an eye on me.”

“Are you always this suspicious?”

“Are you always this pushy?”

“No. I’m worried about you.” As soon as the words are out, I realize they are true.

He looks bemused. “I can take care of myself.” The memory of Leela sits like a breaking boulder between us. It’s the sort of thing she would say. He gives a faint laugh and shakes his head.

“How do you even know you can trust me?”

“I don’t, but life is full of risk,”