I was falling. It was another one of those dreams. Albeit with one difference—it wasn’t me behind the camera. I knew because I wasn’t one to dream very often. When I did I had little control or awareness in the moment, until I would wake covered in a thin, wet film of sweat. I would stretch my feet until I could feel the bed posts, just to have something solid beneath my soles. There was no such escape here. I was falling backwards staring up at a man in a tan brown duster.

The sides of his head were shaved, the tops occupied by dense brown spikes of hair. He glared—sadly, if it were possible to do so. He looked ordinary otherwise, at least to my eyes. But in this dream I had other eyes, other senses. To them, the man was radiating pure power. Nothing like the kind the Werner’s had. His was not the kind used to intimidate; his was the kind people couldn’t see.

And then I was on the dirt. Little green frogs croaked. Webbed feet planted themselves on my body and hopped off. I think it was beginning to rain. I felt something like death. And then continuation.

Blink. Sunlight. My pupils shrunk painfully. I shielded my face with a hand until I had enough time to remember who and where I was. After that, I told the time. I had woken at least ten minutes later than I should have been allowed to.

Farnoush. He was already paying his side of the bargain. All I had to do was lead Lyssa to them at night and let them do whatever it was they intended. Pressure and bile gnawed at my throat. I wanted to dry heave. I hardened my fist and struck it down.

As if I could feign ignorance. These were the thoughts that creep into men’s heads in places like this. As my shirt was sliding over the ridges on my back, I came to a decision. The foreman and his friends weren’t touching a hair on her head. No way.

I began the work day. The same old sun. The same runny sweat. The same unsteady timbre against my bones when I drove till into earth. Something was wrong. The ‘steadhands all seemed tired. I was tired too. My work gradually moved me closer to another ‘steadhand.

“Strange kind of day,” I said.

They nodded. “I know. Bad dreams,” they said. “Felt exhausted the moment I woke. Doesn’t bode well. You should lay l-”

Flash. Shockwave. Dust-laden wind buffeted us. I squinted and spat the dirt out. Five Werner’s just appeared in the middle of the field. Their boots wrote their rough cursive in our earth.

“Nobody move,” said Nathan.

“Yeah, slow down. Take a breather,” resounded Sebastian.

Two other Werner men accompanied them. They were big, strong, clearly gifted in muscle, but not as much as Nathan. The last Werner was not a man. I had to do a double take to make sure. I thought I had seen every kind of Werner woman in that courtyard.

She was tall, thin, like an upright pole of barbed wire, dressed in a black, long tail blazer. Her hair was the color of pyroclastic flow— black as sin at first, then bursting into flaming orange and red.

“Good. Now gather round, my fellow workers of the world,” Nathan said. “Patiently, predictably.”

“Yeah. No sudden movements,” said Sebastian.

The field’s men and women herded themselves into a crowd. The distance between hands shortened.

“Ah-! Ah-! Stop!” Sebastian shouted. “That’s close enough.”

Nathan casually moved Sebastian aside with the back of his hand and stepped forward.

“You will ask no questions,” he said. “You will answer ours. Do this, and we will cut the day short half an hour for everyone. One question, even so much as a ‘why?’ and this deal is void.

“Now. You!”

He captured one of the young ‘steadhands with his gaze and pulled her forward with a curled beckon from his fingers. She shuffled closer, her head as low as it could go without arching her back.

“What was the last thing you remember after you woke today?” Nathan asked.

“U-um,” she mumbled. Her pale knuckles gripped dense wrinkles in her skirt.

“Speak,” Nathan said.

“J-just tired, sir. But I’m still ready to work. I-”

“What exactly do you remember?”

“I p-put on my clothes. And-”

“Before. Do you remember something from your dreams?”

“I…” The ‘steadhand’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t feel like myself.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Enough,” Nathan said. He pointed. “You, over there.”

The woman stepped back. Another ‘steadhand took her place. This continued for some time. Different questions for different people all aimed at the same thing— did anyone remember anything happening the night before? I thought it was a waste of time. The only thing that stayed with me when I left sleep was the sensation of falling.

“You!”

That one had been particularly loud. I realized it was my turn.

Sebastian shrugged. “Ya know I think this is pointless,” he said.

“What did you do before going to bed last night?” Nathan asked, ignoring his cousin.

“I…” I tried to recall. Then it all came back. The beating from the lead ‘steadhand. The deal they had forced me to make. If Nathan knew what Farnoush wanted, he would rip them apart. Nathan did not share when it came to these sorts of things. “I was so tired. I just went to straight to bed. I didn’t sleep well.”

Nathan sighed. “Sweet Christmas,” he muttered. His shoulders slacked. “Alright. Maybe we-”

The woman raised a hand. Nathan went silent. She crossed her arms neatly and stepped forward. She looked down at me as if I was just a body tossed off a cliff. Her lips parted.

“He is lying,” she said. She was almost too quiet to hear.

“Is that so,” Nathan said with a sneer.

“Really, Cassy boy?” Sebastian said. He seemed hurt.

“No!” I said. “I really did go straight to bed!”

But the boss wasn’t listening. She raised an index finger and flicked forward. The other two men approached at the call.

“Chairs,” she said.

The Werner men went on all fours.

“Sit,” she said.

“I can’t,” I said. I would rather step in a bear trap. My bones creaked. My muscles ached to spring into flight. A shred of dignity held my bladder back.

She was already seated, one cross-laced boot over the other.

“You will sit,” she said.

“You had better confess,” Nathan said, smiling. “Ol’ Abe would miss his milk fetcher.”

The woman placed two fingers just barely on the side of Nathan’s overcoat. The big man sucked air and stiffened like a statue. The smile vanished from his face.

“Quiet, cousin,” she said. She glanced at Sebastian. Then she looked at me. She had gentle, brown eyes. They made me want to cry.

“Sit,” she said. “Everyone else will stand. No one shall leave until I am satisfied.”

Sebastian took breath. But he stopped himself before any words formed.

I began to move. Years of obeisance pushed against me. I was supposed to put my ass on the back of a freaking Werner. I bent above the man’s back and lowered into a squat. It was hard to keep upright. My scars ached from the strain. I fell onto the man’s spine. He made a noise, but didn’t protest. Then I had to wait.

This was terrible. I was on top of someone from the House, a member of the Family. A good hundred ‘steadhands were scattered around us. And the woman wasn’t saying anything to break the ice; we were all stuck here frozen in this moment. She didn’t even glare like the others. In front of her eyes I simply wasn’t there, until suddenly, they withdrew from the middle distance and focused on the inside of my skull.

“You have good manners,” she said.

Did I thank her or stay silent? My brain spun.

“Thanks,” I squeezed out.

“My name is Siobhan Mordigan Werner,” she said. “What is yours?”

“Cassidy.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“I… did not.”

“Good.”

What was good? What did that mean?

“Where were you before you went to sleep?” She asked.

“I was outside.”

Her head tilted. “Were you alone?” She asked.

“Yes.”

“No.” She raised a hand. Slender fingers curled. A ‘steadhand had been beckoned. Nathan hurried one towards them. An older worker. His name was Otho, I believe. Siobhan raised a hand with an open palm. Otho placed his hand on top of it. The old man was shaking, worsening as Siobhan’s fingers folded on top of his. Young flesh enclosed over old bones. It looked wrong.

“You went outside the dorms before going to bed,” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“No one else was with you?”

“Y-yes.”

Pop.

Otho screamed. He tried to pull back, but that was no longer possible. Siobhan would not let him go. And something had appeared in my hand. I could feel its weight. It was wet. I opened my palm. Otho’s pinky sat there, warm, bleeding, red. I almost dropped it.

“Hold him,” Siobhan said.

Otho was wailing now. His pleas were turning into sputtering noises, all of it directed to me. There was no point pleading to them. They were holding him still. Siobhan placed two fingers on his side, gently depressing his shirt until she touched skin.

“You frequent our library,” she said. I didn’t know my blood could go colder. “Have you read Genesis?”

“Madam, I,” I began. But I didn’t know what to say.

“Though I am not Him. I would not be able to create a companion. I can only perform a small miracle aping Yahweh.”

“Miss Werner-”

“You were outside yesternight. Were you alone?”

Otho said something. I thought it was a ‘please’.

“No,” I said.

“Good,” Siobhan said. “Who was with you?”

“’Steadhands.”

“A lie by occlusion is still a lie.”

“No! Don’t-”

“Their names, Cassidy.”

“I don’t know two of them.”

“You know the third.”

I looked at Otho. He looked twenty years older. There was a patch of growing red on the ground below his hand.

“Farnoush,” I said.

“Why did you hide this?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“How did you know?”

“I don’t.”

“Last night, we all experienced a similar dream,” Siobhan said. “Except its origins were psychic. And it was no dream, but a memory. All the Werner’s with similar abilities have been accounted for. One of you is gifted. Do you know who they are?”

I made a fist.

“Cassidy,” She said. “Please answer me.”

“I do not know who they are,” I said.

Siobhan did not say anything. She did not blink either. She made no face and no movements. My heart was about to explode.

“I see,” she finally said. “Return that to me.”

I gave the finger to her. She held it in her hand. Her eyes glowed blue-white for a fraction of a second.

Pop.

“Release him,” she said. Nathan and Sebastian released Otho. The older ‘steadhand’s finger was back where it belonged. But there was a perfect, circular scar I doubted would ever truly heal.

“Return to your tasks,” Siobhan said. “Everyone may rest an hour early.” She tapped Nathan on the side.

“You heard her,” Nathan shouted. “Your shifts end one hour early today.”

Sebastian looked at me with concern in his eyes.

“Don’t lie boy,” he said. Then quieter, “To me, maybe. I’d forgive ya if it’s for something dumb. But…”

“Here, cousin,” Siobhan said.

My chair lifted from under me. I fell onto the ground. The Werner’s all gathered around her. The air contracted then expanded. They were gone without a trace. I looked down at my hand. The blood covered my palm, drying on the callouses and in the creases of my skin. Otho didn’t look at me. He held himself close and walked away. Everyone returned to work.