Brandon parked in the driveway and let himself relax in the driver’s seat. The events of the day echoed in the back of his mind like the scattered debris of a hurricane. He scoffed at his earlier assumption that things would get better if he cooperated with Zandith.

‘Go with the flow.’ Bullshit.

His mind was pulled in several directions all at once, and thus, it went nowhere. He could hardly remember why he decided to wait in his car before entering the house. Pursue Zandith. No, run away! Keep your distance. But he couldn’t get away with this! And around and around it went.

Marvain. That’s why he was waiting. The hallucinations had worn off on the drive home, but how was he going to explain all this to her? Were they going to have another argument about Zandith? He was the last person Brandon wanted to talk about with her, but it seemed to be the only thing he could think about. He told himself to conceal his renewed desire for vengeance.

After several more minutes of thinking in circles, he forced himself out of the car. The tiled walkway to the front porch was the longer than he remembered it from the morning. The door’s lock seemed to wait a bit longer to beep in confirmation after it scanned his hand. The door itself seemed heavier when he pushed it open.

The lights were on in the living room. He spotted a big lump under the fluffy white blanket on the couch, Marvain’s coffee-colored hair protruding from the top. She stirred at the sound of his footsteps on the tile floor, and a finger curled over the top edge of the blanket and pulled it down to her chin. She squinted at him with sleepy eyes.

“You’re home early,” she croaked.

“There were some… complications,” he murmured. “And then I went to the Haven Center.”

“What?” she said, sitting up and blinking the sleep away. “What for?”

Brandon pointed at his head and made circular motions. “The voices. They came back. It was too much. No chance of getting through the lecture.”

Her eyes went wide. “And they let you go?”

He shrugged. “The doc couldn’t find anything wrong with my nervous system. She thinks it could be bad sleep.”

“Bad sleep? Are they crazy?” she exclaimed. “Did you tell them why you think it started?”

Brandon walked over and sat onto the couch next to her with a sigh. “No.”

“That certainly would have helped their diagnosis!”

He looked at her. “Do you really think they have any clue what happens during… whatever the fuck Zandith did to me?”

“Maybe they would!”

“No, they wouldn’t. Clearly, it was something real that happened, but last time I checked, I haven’t been asked to peer review papers on the effects of demented Aetheric mind-control curses.” He chuckled. “Though I think I just found the topic of my next paper.”

“Are you going to be able to work like this?” Marvain asked. “Have you talked to Rich? Eleanor?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and closed his eyes. “Rich told me this morning I can take the rest of the week off if I need it, though any more than that and I’m not sure how stable my position will be. Eleanor has her anniversary party tonight. I can talk to her tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Marvain stood and folded the blanket while she spoke. “We’re definitely late, but I’m sure we can catch the end of it.”

“Of what?” Brandon said, standing. “The party? No.”

She put the folded blanket on the couch and turned to him. “You got an invitation like all the other times, correct?”

“Yes, but another crowd of people is the last thing I need right now.”

“Brandon,” she said, stepping closer to him and grabbing his hand. He lowered his head as she spoke. “Eleanor is a great counselor and she loves helping people.”

“No, she loves helping Nephrinists.”

“She loves helping people. She’s not going to try to convert you. She knows better than that. And you not being able to teach is the last thing she wants, for you and for Murker.”

He sighed, unable to think of a rebuttal. He knew he could keep asserting that he didn’t want to go and eventually Marvain would concede, but that didn’t feel right. The Haven Center hadn’t been much help, and part of him was still desperate for answers. He wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to sleep without them. He opened his mouth to talk, then hesitated.

Before he could say anything further, Marvain smiled and pecked him on the cheek. “I’ll get into something nice.”

She squeezed his hand once before walking away. His shoulders slumped. She could be perceptive, and sometimes he resented it.

He waited for her in the car. Once they were on their way, Marvain spoke up. “Duke gave me some bad news today.”

“What happened?” Brandon asked.

“He was offered a substantial sum of money from an anonymous source if he stopped pursuing the mansion case.”

“He took it?”

“No, fortunately,” she said, tapping on her wristpad to bring up the messages. “He’s got heart. More than the other bidders, at least.”

“Let me guess,” he said, glancing at her. “All complaints ceased.”

“The majority of them did. One other bidder denied the bribe, but Duke didn’t give me a name.”

“Are you going to ask him for it?”

She looked at him. “I don’t think that would be wise. We know who we’re dealing with, and I doubt he’ll give up when money isn’t enough motivation. Duke is terrified. He’s told his family to be careful. He thinks he’s going to be threatened.”

“Do you think you’re going to be threatened?”

She was silent for a few moments. “No.”

“Really?”

She turned to him. “He’s already threatened both of us and gotten what he wanted. With most of the bidders called off, I wouldn’t have much of a case even if I admit I was coerced. Hector already knows, and he’s close to Domrik, so Hector has some immunity from Zandith.”

“What’s so special about Domrik?”

“I suppose he’s a highly skilled Aether mage? I don’t know him too well. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Do you think this is the only time he’s done something like this?”

Marvain was silent for a time, and when she replied, her voice was weak. “No.”

Brandon caught the warning early this time. He so desperately wanted her to investigate. She had intimate knowledge of the real estate market and the economy in general. She could identify patterns most people didn’t know to look for. But he knew they would just reiterate their argument from yesterday’s dinner. Perhaps his one comment would be enough to pique her curiosity eventually, but not right now. Emotions were still too raw.

After a few long minutes of silence, Marvain scowled. “We never should have transitioned to virtual Shards.”

“We didn’t have much of a choice.”

“It should’ve been ours,” she said. “After Shard-trading for millennia, Eredore spontaneously decides to go digital, now, of all times.”

“It’s not a coincidence,” Brandon replied. “The war is an existential threat to Sylga. Plus, our economy is affected less by mining yields.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said. “Don’t you remember how high the price of Aetherite went after the transition? The incidence rate of fraud climbed exponentially. Too easy to create money from nothing. And if that wasn’t enough, now we have a leash on an otherwise helpless nation.”

Brandon lifted a finger from the steering wheel. “A nation that would no longer exist if we refused their call for help.”

“Yes,” she conceded, “but there are dozens of ways to help that don’t include cutting off half the crystal supply to the people!”

“We were compensated, weren’t we?”

“With something that has no value otherwise! Can you physically defend yourself or power this car with abstract bits of information?”

He smirked. “I’m working on it.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“And I don’t mean control, Brandon. Power. Big difference.”

“I know what you mean, Marv,” he said, nodding. “We agree, for once.”

She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Doesn’t really sound like it.”

“Well, we do.”

“You just want me to stop talking.”

“I’m serious!” He was telling the truth, but he couldn’t deny her accusation, though he would never tell her. He was sick of rehashing another non-argument with her for the sake of complaining.

The conversation drifted to smaller topics, neither of them willing to listen to the ambient engine hum for long.

Eleanor’s house was one room shy of a mansion, in Brandon’s view. On the hilly outskirts of Ridgemire, it was centered in a neighborhood so loose it was difficult to glimpse the neighboring houses through the trees. Each property had lush gardens spread out in a wide fan around the house, at some points merging with the adjacent properties in co-owned, co-maintained areas.

The house itself was a fusion of ancient ornate architecture and modern design, much like Murker. Lines of moss draped themselves from window to window, and green patches accented the swirling designs on the corners and shallow roof. It was a special variation of moss called esken, genetically engineered to be parasitic to mold. The unusually green moss came and went with the wet seasons. After the recent storm, it was blooming in full force, but rather than making the place look broken down and haunted, the structure was more welcoming and alive.

The front gate was left open. Parties at the Warvick's place were slow to start and slow to end, and Eleanor was well aware that other people had schedules too. Fortunately, it looked like half the crowd had already left, and the remaining visitors were scattered around the house and the backyard. Light piano music floated through the air from hidden speakers. At first, Brandon thought it was a recording, but then he found he found Eleanor's husband at the backyard piano. It seemed the old man's fingers had retained their dexterity.

Eleanor was off chatting with a group of other gals near an illuminated display of carved bushes. Marvain lightly squeezed Brandon’s hand to get his attention. “Are you feeling okay so far?”

“Nothing out of place yet.” He glanced around warily. He was secretly grateful of people within earshot. The last thing he wanted was to have his colleagues witness his insanity. He came here to save his job, not put doubts in the minds of others. He already had enough of his own.

She met his gaze. “If it happens again and it’s too much, signal me and we’ll leave.”

Brandon nodded, frowning with a twinge of resentment. How sensitive have I become?

Marvain left to go tour the massive garden with a few of the others. She wanted to start a garden of her own, so she took every opportunity to get inspiration. Eleanor’s property would have no shortage of it.

A hand clapped Bandon on his shoulder, making him jump. “Brandon! Didn’t expect you here.”

Rich stepped into view, his mustache bending slightly upward as he beamed. An almost-empty glass of wine sat in his other hand. Brandon blinked as he recovered from the shock. “Oh… hey Rich.”

“Looks like you recovered from your… ordeal this morning.” Rich raised an eyebrow.

“Eh, yes and no. It’s a long story.”

“Yes, I witnessed the tail end of it today, I imagine,” he said, lowering his head. He straightened as he continued, “Anyway, I’m heading home but I figured I’d pass an idea by you to see what you think.”

Brandon looked at him curiously. “An idea for what?”

“While we’re waiting on the new Aethometer, it ought to be worth our while to conduct a mini-study on our spent Aetherite.”

“Why?”

“We’ve got a pile of it in our reserves just sitting there. You see, most labs keep their spent Aetherite just for it to be essentially repurposed as decorative paperweights.”

“Rich, you know we can’t get a grant for a study like that.”

Rich tilted his head. “Who says we need one? We have all the materials and equipment, minus the Aethometer.”

“What else could we learn about it? The stuff’s more brittle than glass when it’s spent.”

“Has anyone figured out why?”

Brandon shrugged. “No, because nobody’s interested.”

“Aren’t you interested?” Rich asked, swirling the wine in the glass.

Brandon thought for a moment. “I guess it piques my interest.”

“Is that not reason enough to try?”

“In my free time? Yes, but not on paid time while other studies are ongoing.”

“It just so happens that all our other studies rely on the Aethometer,” Rich said, pausing to let Brandon respond.

“That’s inconvenient,” Brandon said, putting hands on his hips. “How long until the new one arrives?”

“A little over a week.”

Brandon bit his lip, then nodded. “I suppose it could give us something to do while we wait, but good luck convincing the board.”

“Hey, with your support, it won’t be too difficult.” He downed the last bit of wine and raised the glass to Brandon. “Let me know if you can be there tomorrow.”

“I will,” Brandon replied as Rich walked away.

He eyed Eleanor, noticing those odd Aether earrings she wore recently. He resorted to casually wandering amidst the sculptured bushes while trying to get Eleanor’s eye. After a few minutes, the group began to wander back near the piano and she began to dismiss the other ladies. She waved them goodbye, then she set her wine glass on the piano and turned to Brandon, concerned. “Brandon?”

“Eleanor,” he said, walking over to her. He nodded to her husband at the piano. “Shawn.”

The old man nodded in greeting, continuing the gentle melody. Eleanor folded her arms across her chest. “Did you go to the Haven Center?”

He put his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, but it didn’t do much good, which is why I came here. The doc scanned my nervous system and found nothing much except an overactive… what was it… pineal gland?”

“Why yes,” Eleanor said, “that would make sense.”

“You know about it too?”

“Certainly, the pineal gland is a sacred gland.”

Brandon cocked his head. “She didn’t say that, though she explained its basic functions. She said I’ll have to wait it out a few days and see if it goes away. I will say that if this continues on, I will not be able to teach. If I don’t stop whatever this is,” he said, gesturing to his head, “I’ll lose both my jobs.”

Eleanor looked at him contemplatively. “By any chance, was the doctor’s name Kelly?”

Brandon raised his eyebrows. “Yes, you know her?”

“You could say we have common friends.”

“Is she correct that I have to wait this out?”

“You said you were hearing voices, am I correct? Was there anything else?”

He grimaced as the memory of the overwhelming experience in the classroom flashed behind his eyes. “There are subtle… apparitions? Distortions? They seem to correlate with the voices. And there’s a tingling or pressure, right here.” He tapped in between his eyebrows.

Eleanor stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, smiling sweetly. “In my experience, a phenomenon like this is not to be feared. From what you’ve told me, there’s nothing wrong with you. Simply, your system is doing something different, and you don’t know how to use it yet.” She patted his arm, then withdrew.

A bug landed on his forehead. He swatted it away, scowling. “I can’t use it because I can’t focus with it!”

“I’m sorry, Brandon,” she said, shaking her head sympathetically. “Until it subsides, if it ever does, you need to find a way to live with it.”

He gaped at her. “That’s bullshit! I can’t force myself to like something I don’t like!” More bugs landed on his forehead, and as he angrily went to swipe them away, he realized there were no bugs at all. He squeezed his eyes shut and jammed the heel of his hand into the tingling spot. “Damn it, it’s starting up again!”

“Right now? Interesting.”

He opened his eyes, and lost all words. Her earrings. They were immersed in a fine red aura rippling outward. They’d been dormant just a moment ago. He reached out, his mouth half open with amazement.

“What are you doing?” Eleanor said, moving her head away from his hand.

Marvain’s voice echoed from somewhere across the garden. “Brandon, is everything alright?”

“Your earrings,” he mumbled, pointing. “What are they doing?”

Shawn looked at them curiously, still playing the piano. “Darling, what is he going on about?”

Eleanor’s hand shot up to her right earring briefly, then descended to her shoulder as she replied, “I’m not sure, honey.”

Shawn had a tint of red mist around his head. It twitched with distant mutterings of his own voice. Brandon locked eyes with him. “You didn’t see them activate just now?”

He furrowed his thick eyebrows, adjusting his eyeglasses as he peered at Eleanor. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be, but it appears nothing has changed.”

“Are you saying these started glowing as soon as your condition started up again?” she asked.

Brandon paused. “Yes…”

Eleanor continued with renewed interest. “When did all this start? What happened just before the first episode?”

He pursed his lips. “Okay, this might seem unbelievable, but bear with me…” He told her about the earlier encounter with Zandith and why it happened.

When he finished, Eleanor had a disturbed look on her face. “So he got to you too.”

“You know him too!?”

“Yes, but certainly not by any mutual friends,” she growled. She took a short glance at Shawn, who had stopped playing while Brandon told his story. Her eyes were glossy and her lips twitched with emotion. After a few moments of hesitation, she ripped out her earrings, leaving trickles of blood on her ear lobes. She hurled them to the tiled ground.

Brandon stepped back, startled. “Hey, what—”

He was cut off by Eleanor’s furious stomping of the earrings. She pounded on them each with her high heels. Shawn stood, using the piano for support. “El! What has gotten into you?”

She turned to Brandon, eyes flashing with anger. “Are they still transmitting?”

Brandon blinked sheepishly, then pointed. “That one.”

She stomped several more times on the indicated earring. The red aura flickered out after two more blows.

“It’s gone,” Brandon said, ending her rampage. She was breathing hard, fists beside her hips. Shawn was standing on the other side of the piano, reaching to her with a gentle hand.

Marvain came walking up beside Brandon, sliding her hand into his. “What did you say to her?”

He looked at her. “Nothing I haven’t told you.”

Eleanor and Shawn were hugging, rocking back and forth slowly. They broke apart with heads bowed, but hers stayed low longer as she spoke, wiping tears from her face. “Zandith forced those earrings upon me with blackmail. They were listening devices. Most likely visual too. While I wore them, everything I’ve said or done, everyone I’ve met and everything they’ve said, Zandith knows it all.”

“With what could he blackmail you?” Shawn asked, puzzled.

She sniffed. “You. I was to tell nobody about them and wear them constantly, or he kills you, Shawn. I’m so sorry!”

He put up placating hands, wading to her again. “It doesn’t matter, El. None of it matters. Oh, aren’t you the one who’s supposed to remind me of that fact? I stand by everything I’ve said today, and if it happens to be my last day, then so be it. My only regret is that you didn’t destroy those devices sooner.” He gave a wry smile. “They didn’t really go with the rest of your style, anyway.”

Her frown broke into reluctant laughter as they hugged again. Brandon found himself smiling as well, though it faded as he remembered his own situation. Curiously, he could hardly feel the tingling on his forehead.

“So that’s it?” Brandon asked. “You’re just going to wait and see if Zandith comes through with his threat?”

Eleanor frowned at him. “I can’t control whether he does or not. Honestly, Brandon, I didn’t have much of a choice after you inquired about them, but it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

“But…” He stuttered as he watched Eleanor pick up the earring scraps on the ground. “You can’t just accept this!”

Eleanor stood and gave him one of her sweet smiles. “Who are you to say we can’t?”

The question stunned him, because he became aware of it’s alternate meaning. Who was he to say he couldn’t deal with his own situation with the same grace?

“I appreciate your concern, Professor,” Shawn said as he turned with Eleanor to walk back to the house. “We’ll take our own precautions.”

Eleanor glanced back. “Glad you could come. I’ll see you next week!”

Brandon watched with disappointment as they climbed the shallow stairs to the massive back porch. Most of the questions within him had blurred and become numb, now inscrutable and irrelevant. Only one remained.

Was there no other way forward?