Carrie Vaughn - Dreams of the Golden Age

He didn’t respond.

“Is she really the one? She doesn’t seem like much,” said the woman.

“She’s the one,” her partner answered.

The one what? Celia thought. Who am I? Filled with vague fear, she lost consciousness.

ANNAgot home from school and sprawled on the living room sofa to do her homework. To try to do her homework, rather. So. She and Mom were going to Have a Talk. Because Mom knew about Espionage and the Trinity, and Anna knew she knew, and everything else was pretense. Anna strategized the conversation, trying to figure out what she’d say. How she’d explain why she hid her powers. In hindsight, her reasons seemed mostly stupid. She hoped her mother would understand. Of course, if Anna could ask her why she lied about the business trip first, get in a preemptive strike that way …

Or maybe they could just have a talk.

Mostly, she stayed in the living room to get away from Bethy, who kept studying her like she was a bug pinned under glass. Anna would have to come clean to her, too. And Grandma. Maybe she could get Dad to tell everyone. She threw her pencil across the room out of frustration.

Dad was in his office, Mom was still at the courthouse, so she opened up her math text and tried to focus. She wasn’t entirely successful, but that was mostly algebra’s fault. And it seemed like Mom really should have been home by now, so she checked in on her—

Shoved the book away as she stood up and went to the window, as if she could look out over the city, the streets, the tiny little figures walking on the sidewalk far below, the toy cars driving on streets, and pick out which one was her mother. Because her mother was gone. She couldn’t find her.

Anna put her hands on her temples, squeezed, as if the problem was with herself, as if she could fix herself by wishing. But no, she could find Bethy, her grandmother, her father, Teddy, Teia, everybody except Mom, and that wasn’t right. It was a giant gaping hole that filled her mind at the expense of every other thought. That mental compass needle spun wildly, its pressure gone.

She didn’t know where her mother was. How could she not know?

A sudden bout of dizziness struck, and she sat on the floor, closed her eyes. The whole building seemed to be swaying. The whole world was swaying. She didn’t know how to make it stop. She just kept thinking of Mom, every thought and every memory she had, the good feelings and bad, all wrapped up together, and sent it out into the world to find her.

But she was gone. Vanished. Anna couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know what else to do, so she yelled, “Bethy! Beth! Something’s wrong! Beth!” Screaming, almost.

Down the penthouse hallway, a bedroom door slammed open and Bethy came running to the living room. “Geez, Anna, why’re you freaking out?”

But she stopped, and her eyes went wide when she saw Anna curled up on the floor, arms around her head, gasping for breath that wouldn’t come.

“Anna. Anna, what’s wrong?” She sat on the floor, very close, but her hands were clasped together and she wouldn’t touch her sister.

“Mom’s gone, she’s gone,” Anna said, choking, trying to catch her hyperventilating breath.

Her father was coming home, riding up the elevator because he’d felt her panic. He’d know what to do.

“She’s just out, she had a court thing, didn’t she?” Bethy said.

“No, this is different, she’s gone, I can’t find her. Don’t you understand, I can’t find her!”

“Did she have another business trip and we just missed it?”

“I’d know where she was. If she was out of town, I’d know it, if she was here, I’d know, if she was at City Hall, I’d know. But I can’t find her. ”

She’s dead, came an unbidden thought. The worst thought of all. She didn’t know what would happen if someone she loved, someone she could track over the whole world just by thinking of them, died. Would they vanish from awareness—just like this?

Bethy said quietly, “Anna, you’re being really scary.”

Anna should have told her about her power a long time ago. She couldn’t think of how to explain it now.

The door to the foyer opened and their father strode in, looking as shocked as Anna felt. But calm, somehow. Still in control.

“Anna, what’s wrong?” he asked, kneeling beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. The touch weighed on her, anchoring her.

Bethy launched in. “Daddy, she’s freaking out, I don’t know what’s wrong—”

“Shh,” Arthur said to her, quietly and firmly. “Anna?”

“I can’t find Mom. Mom’s gone.” She started crying, because the implications were too much for her to bear. Mom couldn’t be gone, she just couldn’t.

Arthur put his hand to his head, and his gaze turned inward. Anna managed a sigh and scrubbed tears from her face. He was a million times more powerful than she was; he’d find her.

But the seconds ticked on. Then minutes. Arthur stood, went to the window to look out over the city, just as Anna had. He held hands to both temples now and winced with concentration.

Bethy was staring at Anna. Her expression was neutral. Maybe even calm, like the expressionless calm their father often wore.

“What’s your power?” Bethy asked finally. “What can you do?”

“I find people. That’s all.”

“But you can’t find Mom.” Anna nodded. She waited for Bethy to yell at her, to be angry at her for keeping the secret. They should have an argument, if things were normal. But Bethy just nodded, decisive. “Dad’ll find her.”

He was still thinking, concentrating. He muttered, “Celia, bloody hell, where have you gone?”

“Have you called her?” Bethy said. “Have you tried her phone?”

“I’m better than a phone,” Arthur murmured, staring out the window as if he could find her by sight.

Anna’s gut wrenched. “Dad, she’s not … she’s still alive, isn’t she? If she wasn’t, I would have felt that. You would have felt it. She wouldn’t just disappear, would she? If she, if she was…” She couldn’t say the word.

He didn’t answer.

A terrible future spun out before her. A life flashing before her eyes, but surely not the right one. If Mom was really gone: no more arguments, no more checking up on her, the office desk empty forever, and what would happen to the company, what would happen to Dad, and what was she supposed to do next? She imagined wandering the condo, searching for a mother who would never be there again.

In the meantime, Bethy got out her phone. “ Some of us aren’t telepathic,” she muttered, punching speed dial. Then she waited, and waited. “She’s not answering.” She tried another number. “Hey, Tom? It’s Bethy. Were you supposed to pick up Mom at the courthouse like, now? Um, yeah, he’s here … Dad, Tom wants to talk to you.”

Dad took the phone and listened for a moment. “And you can’t find her anywhere? All right. No, come on back, I’ll take care of it. Thank you.” He clicked off the phone and handed it back to Bethy. “He was about to call me. He was supposed to meet her after bringing you home, but she didn’t show up.”

Her father looked lost, with a stark stare, his muscles gone slack. If that empty spot in her awareness was nerve-racking for her, how much worse for him? Her parents had been inside each other’s minds for decades. In a sudden panic—a different one from the first, this one immediate and localized, and one she could do something about—she scrambled to her feet and went to him, holding his arm.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

He took a shuddering breath and nodded. Returning her grip, he shifted so that one arm was around her and the other reached for Bethy, until they were all pressed together in a clumsy embrace.