Buried Read online

  I can’t lie to myself after all these years―I know myself too well. This is procrastination, pure and simple. I want answers to my questions, but I can’t have the answers I seek, not at the cost of an innocent. But to know the central mystery of my life…

  One morning of thought won’t hurt. Potestas won’t move that quickly. I slide into my car, parked near the cupcake shop/headquarters of doom, but before I can turn the ignition, my phone rings.

  “Hello?” I say.

  “Hola, Merlo,” says Alejandro. “Did you have your meeting? What happened?”

  “Are you free now to come for a hike? I can tell you all about it.”

  “Si, of course. I’m at home.”

  “I’ll be there in ten.”

  Alejandro waits on the sidewalk when I pull up to the curb, and he hops in.

  “Where are we going?” he asks. His bright eyes gaze at me in question. I nod toward the mountains.

  “I thought we’d try Mount Seymour today. There isn’t enough time to go any further afield.”

  “Will there be views?”

  “A few. Not quite as spectacular as Cypress mountain.”

  “But fewer crazy spirit-men.”

  “Yes. Hopefully.”

  I ask Alejandro about his new apartment and his job, and both topics elicit enthusiasm. It’s not until we reach the highway that Alejandro turns the conversation.

  “But Merlo, you haven’t told me about your meeting. What happened at Potestas?”

  I switch gears to pass a moving truck.

  “Not much. Oh, except for the news that the ceremony will require a human sacrifice.”

  Alejandro’s eyes grow as round as coins.

  “What? And everyone is okay with that?”

  “March’s influence is greater than I supposed. There was hardly a murmur at the news, and no one stepped forward to protest. Indeed, most simply looked excited by the prospect of spirit connection, without a thought for the poor unfortunate who will fuel the process.”

  Alejandro sits back and digests the information. His forest-green lauvan spasm with discomfort.

  “Who will it be?”

  “I’m not certain. From what I could gather, they are currently searching for someone with a ‘strong aura.’”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Who knows? But it lends more urgency to my mission to relieve Potestas of the grail.”

  “Our mission,” Alejandro says in a firm tone. “I want this done, too, and I can help.”

  I flash him a grateful smile.

  “Thanks, Alejandro. I won’t forget.”

  I don’t tell him about my contact with the earth spirits. I’ve been keeping secrets for so many centuries that laying my actions bare all at once doesn’t feel natural. And my desire to know more, to let the ceremony continue so that I can speak with the successor―well, I can’t imagine how well Alejandro might take that. How could he understand my desire to know? He is so young, and so pure-of-heart. There would never be a question in his mind. I don’t want to tarnish my image in his eyes, not yet. I’m sure that will come soon enough.

  We drive in silence for a few minutes. After we span the bridge that crosses Burrard Inlet, I exit northeast toward the mountain.

  “Do you hike often?” Alejandro breaks the thoughtful silence.

  “Fairly often. I think best surrounded by trees, with solid rock under my feet. I like to plug into the lauvan cables while I’m there, too. It’s good to keep tabs on the world.”

  “What does ‘plugging in’ mean?” Alejandro asks.

  “If I touch a lauvan cable, I can send my mind along its length and see if anything is out of place.” I rub my chin while I try to explain. “I don’t see, per se, it’s more of a sensation. And it’s a rush.”

  “How far can you go like that?” Alejandro leans forward in his interest.

  “A good ways. From here, I could likely travel as far as Alberta before the sensation grew too faint. I feel less and less connected to my body the further I go, so I don’t push it. I’m not curious enough to test that boundary.”

  “I wish I could try it,” says Alejandro with a wistful expression. I shrug.

  “There’s no one else who can. No one I’ve met, anyway.” Not even the spirits seem to know anyone like me, and they knew of me. The thought depresses me. It’s hard when a hope dies, faint as it might be. It was always a possibility that there were others like me, but with the spirits’ question that hope has fizzled to nothing.

  My mood must show on my face, because Alejandro’s next words are in a comforting tone.

  “Sometimes what you don’t have is what you don’t need, and what you have is what you should.”

  “Well said, Alejandro.” Echoes of the past drift through my mind. Arthur used to say something similar. “Someone wise once told me the same thing. Long ago. It’s still true, all these years later.”

  Alejandro nods but says nothing. The car climbs up the mountain road, winding back and forth, ever upward, until we arrive at a parking lot. I pull into a spot and stop the car.

  “This will do. We can hike from here,” I say. “It’s a half-hour walk to the nearest cable. Are you ready?”

  “Always,” says Alejandro. “Lead the way.”

  The main trail is well-groomed, but we soon take a little-used path that branches off the main one. Rocks and roots abound, and I am glad of my sturdy hiking boots. Alejandro slips in his running shoes but gamely presses on. Soon, neither of us has much breath for talking, and Alejandro’s face registers relief when I halt at a clearing in the woods.

  “Time for a break?” he pants. I shake my head.

  “No, we’re here. Behold, a lauvan cable lies before you.” At Alejandro’s perplexed peering, I chuckle. “Never mind. Sit on that log and have a rest while I check the cable.”

  Alejandro sinks gratefully onto the felled tree, and I approach the cable. It glitters and glistens with a light not of the sun. Thousands of strands lie bundled together in a long mass that reaches from one end of the clearing to the other and disappears into the trees on either end. The bundle rises to the height of my chest, and its entire surface is alive with slowly wriggling lauvan. Every shade of brown imaginable is represented in its depths, but predominant is a silvery-brown. The ground almost hums with the many strands that link to the cable.

  When I am close enough, I reach out my hands and take a few deep breaths before I plunge them into the writhing mass. My body seizes with sensation, and my head whips back in blissful agony. I allow myself a few moments to wallow in the feeling but soon control myself. Alejandro is watching, and I have things to do.

  Gradually, I close my eyes and allow my conscious to flow down my arms and into the cable. I feel distinctly separate from my body, with only a frail point of connection to tether me. The lauvan stream in one direction, and while I could fight the flow, I have no reason to today, so I follow the cable northwest.

  All is as expected, and my mind floats with the strands in a pleasant, meandering way. I travel down the mountain, into a valley, and across a river. Around the next mountain, a faint tingling travels through my conscious. Something is different about the center ahead of me, the place where multiple cables converge, but I don’t know what. It’s nothing as terrible as the sickness at Wallerton when the spirits attempted to erupt a dormant volcano. It’s strange, but not truly concerning.

  I’ve been away from my body for long enough, and the connection draws my mind back along the cable when I let it. When I arrive at my body, my eyes open and I stretch.

  “How long was I gone?” I ask. It’s difficult to tell time in the cables, especially without the cues my body provides.

  “Maybe twenty minutes? I lost track.” Alejandro has made himself comfortable with the log as a pillow and his running shoes kicked off. His face beams with contentment under the summer sun. He closes his eyes again and puts his hands behind his head. “Find anything interesting?”

 
; “A slight disturbance to the west, but nothing much to worry about. Perhaps some instability left over from an earthquake. All is well here. No imminent natural disasters that I could sense.”

  “Good,” Alejandro says in a lazy tone. I walk over and prod his ribs with the toe of my boot. He grimaces. “What was that for?”

  “Come on, lazybones. The best views are still another half-hour away. I thought you came for a hike?”

  “You’re the one who stopped partway through,” he grumbles, but he takes my offered hand and hauls himself up.

  We continue along our little-known path, and the dense coniferous forest eventually opens to a slope of rocky scree. A dusty valley of green trees spreads below our feet, and other mountains loom across the way. There’s a light haze over the scene from the last of the night’s moisture evaporating off the trees, but the brilliant sun makes short work of it.

  Alejandro stops beside me and breathes deeply then stretches his arms out as if to embrace the view.

  “Beautiful. Makes me glad to be alive.”

  I smile and open my mouth to reply, but a rumbling sound makes me pause. I look around to spot the source of the noise. To our left, a dozen paces up the gravely embankment, the hillside shifts. The entire rocky ground flows with ever-increasing velocity until individual stones roll and kick upward in chaotic patterns. The mass rumbles down, straight toward us.

  I go to grab Alejandro’s arm, but he’s already leaping back into the safety of the trees. The rockslide surges past us with a roar. It doesn’t pause until a small hill funnels the rocks into a valley, a hundred paces below us where they lose momentum and come to a dusty, grinding standstill.

  We watch in silence until the last of the rocks settles and quiet reigns once more. I look at Alejandro.

  “I think I’ve had enough hiking for today. Ready to head back?”

  “You took the words right out of my mouth,” he says with relief. “Views are overrated, anyway. Seen one, seen them all.”

  I laugh and follow him back the way we came. The trees feel protective and safe after our rockslide scare. I’ve never heard of a slide on Mount Seymour before. It has too many visitors not to be strictly monitored for safety.

  A figure appears on the path ahead of us. He’s dressed for hiking with sturdy boots, rugged pants, and a trim backpack. He greets us.

  “Great day to get out of the city.”

  “Watch yourself up there.” I point behind us. “We narrowly missed a rockfall. At the viewpoint, where it opens up.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” The man takes a water bottle from a side pouch on his pack and squirts it into his mouth. “Seems like there’s a lot of that going around.”

  “How so?”

  “Didn’t you hear about the big slide at Whistler? Just about took out some mountain bikers. Maybe the conditions are right for loose ground, I don’t know. Anyway.” He puts his water bottle back. “Enjoy the rest of your walk.”

  He gives us a friendly wave then disappears up the path. I turn to Alejandro.

  “Strange. I wonder if the disturbance in the cable is related. Or perhaps forcing the two phenomena together is grasping at coincidences.”

  “Speaking of together,” Alejandro says, his mind clearly elsewhere. “Jen wants to know if you and Minnie want to go for dinner at Flourish tonight. I want to meet her.”

  “I’ll check with Minnie,” I say, but in my head, I’ve already said yes. I like to bring the disparate parts of my life together. I spend too much time hiding and keeping secrets to willingly accept division. And the evening is long—there will be plenty of time for friends and for romance.

  ***

  Minnie slides her arm through mine before we reach the restaurant doors. It’s a rooftop patio that serves tapas and high-priced drinks. Jen picked it―coming from a well-off family sometimes makes her blind to expense―but Alejandro, even with his ESL teacher’s wage, is still in the early, besotted stage of his relationship with Jen and didn’t protest. Minnie squeezes my arm.

  “This is a little weird,” she says to me quietly. “I mean, I know Jen through her cousin. I know her family, she’s met me a bunch of times.”

  “And that will make conversation all the smoother,” I say. “You won’t have to worry about boring small talk. You can jump right in. Jen adores gossiping. Surely you’ve heard something juicy lately?”

  Minnie nudges me with her shoulder and laughs.

  “I guess you’re right. Still, it’s hard not to expect judgement. For dating a former client. I know I need to get over that.”

  “Trust me, you won’t get any judgement from Jen. I might.” I grin at Minnie, who kisses my cheek. She pulls back to evaluate my reaction.

  “What was that for?” I ask. Not that I mind, but I hadn’t realized we were at that stage of easy intimacy.

  “I felt like it,” she says. “Come on, they’re probably waiting. We’re a bit late.”

  “I’m curious to see whether they are on time or not.” I open the door for Minnie. She enters, and I follow her into a small foyer that leads to a wide staircase with a hostess desk at the top. “Alejandro has a Latin flexibility with time, and Jen is quite the opposite.”

  Minnie climbs the stairs and gazes around the open-air patio at the top. She waves at someone near the edge of the roof.

  “Jen prevailed,” she says. “I haven’t met your friend Alejandro yet, but I can imagine Jen being the more forceful one in a relationship.”

  I chuckle and take Minnie’s hand to pull her toward my friends.

  “Too true.”

  The patio overlooks English Bay, and the low sun glances off the calm waters with a gleaming bronze light. Tankers and sailboats alike cleave the ocean on their paths. Alejandro stands when we arrive at the table and shakes Minnie’s hand.

  “I’m Alejandro. So good to meet you.” His thick hair is somewhat tamed, and he looks comfortable in a short-sleeved buttoned shirt. No, he looks more than comfortable―he looks blissful. The source of his bliss stands also and gives Minnie a hug.

  “Hi, Minnie,” says Jen. “It’s great to see you again. I hope you guys like shrimp―we ordered our first tapas already.”

  As I hoped, conversation is easy and fluid. We touch on subjects ranging from sightseeing to soccer to surfing―apparently, Minnie is an accomplished surfer. It’s been a long time since I felt this comfortable chatting with good friends. Tapas come and go, drinks flow, and with every story Minnie tells about herself―her move to Vancouver, her near-miss with a shark while surfing in Hawaii, her favorite novel―another lauvan bond forms between us. A navy-blue strand sinuously travels through the air to meet my waiting chocolate brown thread, and they twist together to form another connection.

  After a couple of quick hours, Minnie excuses herself from the table.

  “Powder room,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”

  She smiles at me when she leaves, and I can’t help but return my own. When I look back at the others, Jen looks at me with raised eyebrows.

  “Wow, Merry. I didn’t know you were capable of it.” She waves her hand. “Well, obviously, you told me you had fourteen wives or whatever, but I’ve never seen the evidence.”

  “Evidence of what?” What is she trying to say?

  She tsks.

  “Oh, Merry. You’re so in love.” She smiles at me, then exchanges a complicit look with Alejandro. He nods.

  “It’s true,” he says. “You’re, what’s the word? Starts with ‘s.’”

  “Smitten?” Jen says.

  “Yes, smitten.”

  They both turn back to me with smug expressions on their faces. I shake my head.

  “No, of course I’m not. She’s a pleasant companion for the moment, nothing more.”

  “Stop fooling yourself, Merry,” Jen says. “A blind person could see it. You’re head over heels.”

  I stare at her. The noise of the restaurant dulls to an indecipherable roar in my ears. Surely not. I was
careful. I only wanted someone to spend time with. I don’t want love. I can’t handle any more.

  I look at the cloud of lauvan that surrounds me. It stretches past my shoulders, almost as far as my arm-span. At the edges, it is so far away from my body that it fades into transparency. My breath comes more quickly. I’m already unraveling. What would happen with one more love lost? Would my strands all disappear into nothing? Would I be gone forever?

  Jen says something, her face alarmed, but the words don’t register. I can’t let this continue, no further than it already has. I have to break it off with Minnie. There’s no other way.

  I push back from the table. The others’ faces are startled, but I can’t force words out of my constricted throat. My feet take me blindly to the stairs, where I run down two steps at a time and push through the glass door at the bottom onto the street. There is a park opposite, only a tiny patch of grass, but blessedly free of people. I race across the street to a chorus of honks and skid to my knees on the grass.

  Feverishly, I grasp the blue and brown lauvan that connect me with Minnie. There are so many connections. How did I ignore this? How did I let it go this far? Was I too “smitten” to read the warning signs? I pluck the first connection free of the bundle, hold it between both hands, and pull hard.

  The lauvan break with a snap, and I gasp with pain. A sharp jab rips into me, deep in my chest, and leaves an ache near my heart that is too familiar. But it is better to finish this now and suffer a minor pain than to disintegrate in forty years. I break another, and the pain takes my breath away. Another, and I bend over, clutching both hands to my chest.

  “Merry! What are you doing?”

  Jen sprints across the grass toward me. Her form is blurry through my streaming eyes. She kneels before me and grabs my shoulders roughly.

  “I’m breaking the connection,” I gasp. “I can’t do this again. I can’t love another woman, not like that. I won’t survive.”

  I grit my teeth and reach for the next lauvan strand. Jen stops me with her hands on mine.