Next Stop Everywhere

  The blind man known as Paragon sighed and felt for his
stick.  There was much to do.  He stood, and the telltale bang echoed across
the house.

  “Paragon?” A woman’s voice called from the Weaving Room.  He didn’t reply.  He hadn’t for over fifty years.

***

Alexei
gently kissed Jacob for the third time as Lev looked on with envy.  Jacob broke away from Alexei [ZA1],
still grinning, and turned to Lev [ZA2], who
sat on the curb looking bored and bouncing a rubber ball off the street.  Lev studied Jacob’s expression of surprise
as his eyes passed over Lev’s slumped body, as though he’d already been
forgotten.  Lev wasn’t surprised.  Alexei tended to do that to him as well;
although that didn’t make his expression any less sour.

There
was an awkward silence.

Alexei
cleared her throat and Lev looked away, determinedly keeping his attention from
her.  More silence followed, and Lev
could feel the pressure of two pairs of eyes scrutinizing him.  Finally he gave in, turning to see Alexei
sit down next to him, hugging her legs nearer her in the cold winter
weather.  This, Lev had decided, had
been one of the deciding factors in his attraction to her.  On anyone else, the pose would have looked
childish, regardless of the weather.

On
Alexei, it was graceful.  Sensible. 

That
was the problem with his and Jacob’s family, if you asked Lev.  Too much speculation.

A
rustling in the snow behind them drew Lev from his musings.  He and Alexei, startled, looked to see –
nothing.  For a split second, Lev
thought his eyes had deceived him: snow dislodged from a bush, an old man with
a stick falling in a heap; but when he looked again, he saw a bush covered in
white, and no sign of another soul, besides Alexei and Jacob, whose, he
observed with satisfaction, efforts to get Alexei into “some decent clothes for
this weather” were going unaided.

She
shrugs him off.  “Оставь это.” Leave it alone. 

Jacob
sat down on the side of Lev opposite Alexei’s and huffed.  Lev glanced Alexei’s way; at least she had
donned Jacob’s scarf, which she pulled tighter with each passing breeze.  Within minutes, it was snowing again. 

“Don’t
you think your father might-”  began
Alexei, reminding Lev of just how naive she really could be. 

“Никогда,” said
Jacob, with an air of finality.  Never.

Lev
pulled a battered old pocket watch from his worn coat, cold metal burning skin
through his frayed mittens.  “The
hangover’s started,” he announced without much conviction. 

Sometimes
it was nice that their father was so predictable.  Unfortunately, that didn’t much change the
fact that although they were approaching it as slowly as possible, Lev and
Jacob’s father was threatening to disown “that little half-human dog” more
often every day.  Said dog being,
namely, Lev.  He didn’t know what he
would do then, though he and Jacob had discussed it many times. 

Lev’s
expression slowly darkened as he remembered the first time he had ever met
Virgil Nobel. 

The
orphanage.  [s3] It had
been the first time any boy between the ages of 11 to 13 had been requested,
and the fifth corridor had been buzzing with excitement.  One year ago, to the week.  Mrs. 
Dewar, the American keeper, had primped them up in their best clothes
(usually a polo shirt and jeans) and then hurried them into the entrance
room.  Each of them in turn had come
back sad and resigned, until Lev went in, with a chorus of “Удачиs”.  Good
luck.

He was
just what they were looking for, they said. 
Perfect they said.  How
much?  They said.  Within a month, Lev Abel had become Lev
Nobel.  It was a sign, Mrs.  Nobel said in her odd British accent, that
his name was only theirs with a letter missing and one replaced.  One of their children, they explained, had
died, and though they had another, they’d always wanted two.  Age had advised Mrs.  Nobel against childbirth; ovarian cancer and
ensured its prevention.  Besides, they
would much rather raise a child that didn’t have to be taught. 

This
last point was the father’s, a Russian male like Lev of dark hair and pale
complexion.  Virgil Nobel.

Lev
shook himself from his reverie just in time to hear Jacob inform him that it
was safe to go home.   Alexei gave Jacob one last kiss before they
parted at the apartment stair.

Chase’s
mind filled with images as he watched, the most prominent heard from a hiding
place years ago.

Alexei.  “Никто не заботится.” No
one cares.

Jacob.  “Я забочусь.” I care.

***

Paragon
shook the snow from what little hair he had, wishing, as always, that he could
see the blanket of white covering the sidewalk that had been so recently
disturbed and cursing his blind eyes. 
He stared in the direction of the apartments the Russian children had
entered and murmured a word.  As he
watched, or what passed for him as watching, their images faded into view
sitting on the sidewalk.

He
touched the son of Ariadne and grimaced as he forced the visions that came to
him as Keeper into play.  The boy’s
tousled blond hair revealed to outsiders a playfulness that wasn’t there: that
he was sure of. 

As he
laid hand on the daughter of Orion, a shock when through him, and he pulled
away immediately, reeling, his blind eyes flicking rapidly from place to
place.  She knew.  At least, she though she did.

Only
the son of Erebus was left.  With a
shudder, Paragon’s palm was placed in the perfectly combed brackish-brown
hair.  Nothing.  He pressed harder, demanding
information.  It had been millennia since
someone had been impossible to absorb; no child could possibly be so
resistant.  Still, no information came.

With
another curious glance at the place they called home, Paragon stepped into the
street and the ghosts of the children faded. 
He smiled inwardly at the irony of the Tri-Sanctum’s offspring used to
pain them.

Another
word, and he disappeared behind a flurry of snow.

***

  Jacob, Alexei, and Lev
stand in the frigid winter air.  A man,
old and twisted, leans on his cane.  They
are at a bus stop.  The old man turns
their way and shrugs off a worn shawl, his only protection against the cold
air.  He gives it over to Alexei, who
takes it, mildly startled.  Everything is
mild.  The dream moves slow as warm
honey.

Lev watches as the man steps out into the
street.  A Greyhound.  He hasn’t a chance against it, but rather
than flee, he turns back to the three. 
He smiles.  Just as the bus hits
his old, frail body, he smiles, and says a word.

***

The
son of Erebus woke with a start.  He had
a strange feeling, as if someone had been probing through his mind…

The
daughter of Orion awakened to the sound of snow crunching under a boot.  A glass of warm milk later and she was sound
asleep again.

The
son of Ariadne hit the floor with a thump, the sound of a scream echoing into
ghostly, faded silence.  He had an
uncomfortable sense that the screams he had heard would be his own.

The
next morning, when they woke up, their memories of the dream would be
gone.  Total erasure.

***

Jacob,
Alexei, and Lev stood in the frigid winter air. 
Alexei blew out into her hands in an attempt to warm them as they waited
for the school bus.  Alexei had, finally
and with much annoyance on the part of Jacob, gone out and bought herself a
mid-length black trench coat and a gray and blue silk scarf, which she
constantly rubbed against her cheeks in futile effort to heat them.  There was no point, Lev knew, in her many
ways to attract warmth.  They were
unnecessary.

  Jacob’s nearness did it for her.

  Lev rubbed his eyes, exhausted, as they boarded.  He’d dreamt of something last night; he
didn’t know what, but of something.  He
sighed.  There was no way he was going to
get anything done today. 

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