Mystery sighed as she waited for the agent on her protection detail to go into a safehouse and thoroughly inspect it before allowing her to enter. It had been a grueling day. She had been grilled by senior intelligence analysts, counterintelligence specialists, and a team of psychologists, as well as a group consisting of physicists, anthropologists, and parapsychologists. They had put a fNIRS helmet on her head for monitoring her brain waves throughout the entire process.
They had even brought a psychic in, though they called them Cognitive Anomaly Researchers. They hadn't spoken to her at all – they just sat in the room with her and tranced out. Part way through one of the interviews, the CARs, as she referred to the psychics, suddenly all gasped and ran out of the room with expressions of pure terror on their faces. She wished they would tell her why, but information was only flowing in one direction.
She was starting to wonder if she'd made the wrong decision in declining Rhapsody's offer to become a world tree. The agent who had spoken to her the most had told her she was the most important person in the world right now, and that foreign intelligence agencies would have been after her if the NSA hadn't reached her first. How long was her life going to be the equivalent of a political prisoner?
She hadn't tried to hold anything back during the interviews. She was confident that there wasn't any technology on Earth that could threaten Rhapsody's ring. While the analysts had remained professional for most of the interrogation, they had been unable to hide their unease when she revealed the imminent destruction of the world if Rhapsody failed. The revelation of world trees, dragons, spirit walkers, fauns, and leprechauns had been met with varying degrees of skepticism. She could understand that. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would have doubted it as well. However, they had seen enough evidence of Rhapsody's power that they remained more openminded than she thought they would have under normal circumstances.
The Director of the NSA had only stepped into the conference room once. It had been after she revealed Rhapsody's ability to teleport people wherever she wanted. Mystery could understand his concern. An ability of that nature would be nearly impossible to defend against.
Agent Michaels finally exited the front door of the safehouse and beckoned her to enter. His partner, Agent Reinhart, had been waiting next to her with a barely concealed scowl of impatience. He had been exhibiting irritation and even disgust since being assigned to her. She wondered if it was an act, or if he actually had a chip on his shoulder over something. Agent Michaels had grown increasingly uncomfortable with his partner's behavior.
"The room's clear," Agent Michaels informed her with a nod. "Be advised that everything inside is under constant surveillance, including the bathroom."
Mystery's face flushed and she glared at him indignantly. "Why, exactly, do you need to watch me in the bathroom? This is starting to feel more like a prison."
"Nobody is watching you in the bathroom," Agent Michaels replied tiredly. "An AI monitors all of the surveillance. A human only looks at it if there is something that the AI escalates as a cause for concern. All access to the surveillance feed is logged and alerts are sent to leadership when it has been accessed. Anyone accessing the surveillance feed had better have a damn good reason for doing so."
Mystery sighed, slightly mollified. It still rankled to know that some grubby agent could watch her shower. She was really starting to regret not accepting Rhapsody's offer. Was it too late? Rhapsody was essentially part of the entire planet, with her root system going right through the center and connecting to four other world trees. Would Rhapsody hear her if she asked for help? She was pretty sure she would.
"What about my brother?" Mystery asked anxiously. "When can he visit with me? Or at least talk on the phone?"
"Probably never," Agent Reinhart answered bluntly. "You don't seem to understand the seriousness of your predicament. Assuming you have told us everything you know, you are now nothing but a security liability that other governments would love to exploit. Get used to the idea that your old life is over and that you'll be spending the next couple of decades in secure facilities with no contact with the outside world."
Agent Michaels was giving his partner a flat look, but he wasn't denying Agent Reinhart's assertions. Mystery didn't try to hide the dislike in her eyes as she glared back at him.
"Thank you for helping me make a tough decision, Agent Reinhart," Mystery told him icily. "I have no intention of being a political prisoner for the rest of my life."
He stared back at her with a bored expression. She felt an overwhelming desire to stick her tongue out at him. She resisted the urge and turned away, walking through the door.
The inside was sparsely furnished. The furniture looked uncomfortable and cheap. The small kitchen was stocked with paper plates, cups, bowls, and plasticware. She shook her head in disbelief as she continued touring the small area. The bed had a four-inch mattress and a thrift store nightstand and dresser.
She went back into the kitchen and opened the small fridge. Empty. The three cupboards had a combined inventory of one empty saltshaker, a partially full pepper shaker, and a half-bottle of instant coffee that was expired by eight years.
"Are all of their safehouses this crappy, or are they just trying to send me a message?" Mystery thought with a scowl. "Maybe it's an experiment to see what happens to a person surviving on pepper and stale coffee. Do they really expect me to eat takeout food indefinitely?"
The large apartment building the safehouse was located in looked at least seventy years old. "I wonder how many of the other tenants are idiots like me, forced into witness protection. Do they even have regular tenants, or is the whole building full of political prisoners? And are their apartments as disgusting as this one?"
She sighed dejectedly as she continued walking through the time-capsule of an apartment. The lack of windows was disturbing. How was she supposed to get any vitamin d?
"What the hell am I supposed to do all day?" she wandered over to the stiff couch to look at an old CRT television doubtfully. It had the old telescopic antennas sticking up from the back. She doubted they worked anymore, since everything was digital now. She turned the television on, more out of morbid curiosity than any real interest. She was greeted with white and black fuzz. She tried all of the channels with the same results. Just before she was reaching to turn it off, she noticed a shape moving through the fuzz. She tilted her head curiously as she tried to make sense of the distortion. It looked like a raccoon, if raccoons were made of distortion in static fuzz. It turned and appeared to be looking at her expectantly.
"What the hell is going on?" Mystery muttered under her breath. "Did they dump me in a haunted apartment?"
The raccoon shrugged its shoulders in a manner that looked almost human. Could this be something related to Rhapsody? Or was this some kind of prank that bored, spiteful National Security agents did to amuse themselves?
"What the hell are you?" Mystery whispered, mindful of the constant surveillance in the rooms.
She stumbled back in shock as the raccoon began stepping out of the fuzzy television. Her calves hit the couch, and she fell down onto the hard cushions. She winced as she felt a bruise in the making on her left ass cheek.
"Damn these cheapskates!" she thought in irritation, briefly forgetting the fact that a raccoon was climbing out of her television. It stood up on its hind legs and stared at her curiously, its head tilted to one side. It would have been cute, if the manner of its arrival hadn't been so damn creepy.
"How long are you going to stare at me, mate?" the voice of an Australian man emitted from the raccoon without its mouth moving.
"Uh…um," Mystery stuttered as she continued staring at the talking raccoon anxiously. "Are you, um, a friend of Rhapsody's?"
"That's right, mate," the raccoon confirmed with a single nod of its head. "Azeban's the name. Rhapsody asked me to keep an eye on you. We figured these clowns would try to use you to secure a meeting with her, if things went well. Unfortunately, things didn't go well."
"What do you mean?" Mystery asked faintly. She felt her stomach roiling with nerves at his words. "Did they do something stupid?"
"You could say that," Azeban answered dryly. "They're convinced she's a demonic entity. There's a vocal group of paranormal advisors who are convinced that all manifestations, whether aliens or ghosts, are demons in disguise. The geniuses running the core intelligence agencies are all fundamentalists that want to use you as bait to try and capture Rhapsody. She feels bad for putting you in this position, so she's put a ward around you that will make you unrecognizable to anyone with ill intent. That won't help you get out of here, of course, since anyone unrecognizable is going to be seen as a threat. I suggest you let me create a distraction and then leave the building. There's a train station not far from here where you'll find you have a ticket available under your name. We'll talk more after you get out of here."
Mystery frowned in thought as she watched Azeban. That would explain the disdain from Agent Reinhart. It would also explain the crap accommodations they had dumped her in. She wouldn't be surprised if she met an accident in the near future to save them the expense of locking her up all of the time.
"How do I get to the train station?" Mystery asked anxiously. "Which direction is it? I don't have my phone, so I'm basically blind when it comes to finding anything."
Azeban snorted a laugh and shook his head. "Your generation is hopeless without your tech. When you walk out of the building, take a right and just keep walking until you see a sign that says Train Depot. Good luck."
As soon as he finished speaking, he vanished. Mystery felt her heart rate spike as she stared around the room nervously. Weren't they watching her on surveillance? What about the diversion Azeban was going to make? How long was she supposed to wait?"
She heard the sound of gunshots in the distance, followed a moment later by pounding feet as someone ran away from her door. Taking a deep breath, she quickly walked over to the door and tried to open it. It was locked with an electric combination lock on both sides. She really was a prisoner.
As she stared at the lock in consternation, there was a click, and then the door slowly opened. She reached out with a shaky hand and opened it all of the way before poking her head outside. There was no sign of either agent. She tentatively walked out the door and started walking down the stairs. She noticed another person exiting an apartment on the second floor. They had a shopping bag in their hand and casual clothing. So, she really was in a regular apartment complex.
She continued down the stairs, feeling more confident as she put more distance between herself and the prison she had just escaped. The sun was just dipping below the horizon, reminding her that she was one night short on sleep. She wished she had some Yuccas Fitter. The thought of the delicious fruit triggered a pang of longing. She had only been with Rhapsody and her friends for a few hours, but they were such nice people that it had been easy to form an attachment to them. She sighed regretfully, wishing she were with them now, instead of sneaking away from a federally sanctioned citizen prison.
Agent Michaels appeared on the stairs as she descended the last flight of steps. She stared at him warily as she moved toward him. He was scowling as he moved up the stairs while muttering about poor life choices. He didn't even look at her as she passed him. She let out an explosive breath as she reached the ground. Apparently, she really was as good as invisible as far as the agents were concerned. She had only moved a block away from the apartment when she was interrupted.
"Hello dear," an old woman with a bandana wrapped over her head said brightly. She was hunched over in a permanent slouch, leaning heavily on an ornate cane. Her long black hair was frayed and snarled, easily reaching her waist, though with her hunch it hung down in front of her. Her face was lined like dried and cracked leather and one of her eyes was a milky white, while the other was a milky blue. "Do you mind helping me find my cat, young lady? Lord Borris is such a scamp. He's always sneaking outside when I have to take the garbage out."
Mystery groaned inwardly as she smiled back at the old lady politely. She really wanted to get out of this place, even if she was disguised. The old lady's cat would probably come back on its own when it got hungry anyway.
"What does he look like?" she heard herself ask in dismay. She was such a sucker for hard luck cases.
"He looks like a dairy cow, but you won't get any milk out of him," the old woman cackled at her joke, banging her cane on the ground in her mirth.
Mystery smiled awkwardly. "Okay, so black and white splotchy patterns. Does he come to his name when you call him?"
"Only if he wants to," the woman answered maddeningly. "Or if it's time to eat."
Mystery suppressed a sigh and looked around at the buildings and alleyways surrounding them, feeling a sense of hopelessness set in. They weren't going to find Lord Borris until he got hungry.
"Okay, I'm going to go check that alley over there," Mystery informed the old woman in her best attempt at a cheerful voice.
"Oh, bless your heart dearie," the old woman smiled a gap-toothed smile.
There wasn't a lot of traffic on the three-lane road, allowing Mystery to quickly cross the street and move into the alley. There were several garbage cans, and two dumpsters haphazardly arranged along the walls. There was garbage scattered all over the narrow space and the smell of feces was strong in the air. Mystery scrunched her nose in disgust as she moved further into the alley.
"Here, kitty kitty," Mystery called out hopefully. "Come here, Lord Borris. It's time to go back home, Lord Borris."
She nearly bumped her head on a fire escape, dodging it at the last second. She peered over the edges of the garbage cans, trying to ignore the stench. A golden short-haired cat looked up at her in alarm from where it had been napping behind the garbage can.
"Have you seen a dairy cat anywhere?" Mystery asked the golden furball conversationally.
"He's two alleys down," the cat answered, its mouth making cat sounds while translations appeared in Mystery's head. She groaned and put her head in her hands.
"What's the matter?" the cat asked curiously.
"I've finally lost it," Mystery told it sadly. "I knew I probably didn't survive that crash. I'm probably in a coma in a hospital somewhere."
"I'm not sure what most of that meant," the cat informed her critically. "Maybe stick to smaller words that would make sense to a cat."
"Okay, sure," Mystery agreed in a bemused tone. She turned and began walking toward the street. "Two alleys down then. Okay, fine."
She wasn't too surprised when she found the missing cat in the second alley. If she was dreaming, she might as well dream consistently. Lord Borris was a friendly cat, apparently. He ran right up to her and began rubbing up against her legs while arching his back. She hesitantly picked him up. He began to purr as she carried him back to the street where she had left the old lady.
"So, are you a talker too?" Mystery asked him with a raised eyebrow.
"With a voice like mine, who wouldn't be a talker," the cat answered self-importantly as he preened in her arms. "Is Nanna looking for me again?"
"Yep, Nanna is looking for you again," Mystery confirmed in a daze. She crossed the street and found the old woman talking to some older children. She was describing Lord Borris to them. Before she could finish, they broke away and quickly walked away without looking back at the old woman.
"Here he is," Mystery called out to the woman. She was staring after the children with disappointment on her old face. When she heard Mystery, her face brightened, and she tottered toward her.
"Oh my word, I can't believe you found him so fast," the woman exclaimed in amazement. "It usually takes hours of searching."
"So, this is a pretty common routine, huh?" Mystery asked as she scratched Lord Borris's ears, much to his delight. "Maybe you should get a collar with a bell so that he jingles as he walks."
"That's a brilliant idea, young lady," the old woman beamed at her. "I wonder where I could find something like that."
"You should be able to find one online-" she broke off as she realized she was about to tell an ancient old lady to try and use the internet for shopping. "What I mean is, there should be some pet stores around her somewhere."
"Would you mind carrying Lord Borris back home for me, Dearie?" the old woman asked hopefully. "He's a little hard to carry with my cane."
"Sure, no problem," Mystery's mouth answered while inside she groaned.
"When you get me back to Nanna's, watch out for the guy with the pokey thing," Lord Borris warned her in a contented tone. "Every time she brings someone back home, they fall asleep after he pokes them with his metal tooth."
Mystery stopped dead, turning to stare at the old woman warily. "Where do you live?"
"It's not too far, dearie," the old woman assured her with a gummy smile. "Just a few more alleys down and we can go in through the back door."
Mystery frowned at the woman doubtfully, trying to imagine her being involved in some kind of human trafficking operation. Of course, the fact that she had so much trouble imagining her being involved in one might be why she could get away with such a disgusting scheme. She seemed so sweet and helpless. She suddenly remembered the children the woman had been trying to entice into searching for Lord Borris. If Mystery walked away from this, there were going to be more victims. She couldn't exactly call the cops. Even if they didn't recognize her, what was she going to say? The cat told me the nice old woman is a child trafficker?
She needed to do something. She wasn't completely helpless. She had been pretty good at kick boxing before she lost her leg. Now that she had it back, she might still have enough skill sitting in her brain somewhere to make the difference in a confrontation.
She felt sweat on her palms and her heart rate increase as they continued. Even if she could beat up the person responsible, it wasn't likely to stop them from doing it in the future. Without some kind of law enforcement witnessing it, they would be free to do it again after they recovered.
"How long have you been selling humans for profit?" Mystery asked the old woman conversationally.
The woman froze for a moment before continuing. "What on earth are you talking about, dearie?"
"I've seen some strange things in this world," Mystery informed her tersely. "I've seen some terrible things. I've never seen anything as disgusting as what you've dedicated your life to, though. Using people's kindness to hurt them the way you do is the kind of blot on your soul that will probably never come clean. I hope you make better choices in your next life."
The woman's sweet visage vanished as she glared up at Mystery with derision in her eyes. "You know nothing about life; you privileged little bitch. Life is a despicable place where you do whatever you have to in order to survive. Don't talk to me about souls, you pampered powder puff. This life is it, and it's survival of the fittest. Now get in front of me, or I'll put a hole in your pretty little head."
The handle of the cane turned out to be a detachable pistol. She pointed it at Mystery and gestured for her to move in front of her.
"No," Mystery shook her head disdainfully. "If you're going to kill me, you'll have to do it right here, in front of all of these cameras. "You're in for a big surprise when you die and realize what you have done to so many other souls."
"Nobody's going to believe I killed you, cameras or not," the old woman sneered. "Get walking or I will kill you."
"Then you're going to have to kill me," Mystery declared, feeling her fear drain away as the inevitability of her death became obvious. She smiled sadly at the woman, feeling a pang of sorrow that this woman had found a way to ignore her conscience to such a monumental degree that she was willing to harm children.
The woman held the gun pointed at her, eyes filled with hate. She began squeezing the trigger and Mystery closed her eyes, waiting for the end. There was a click as the bullet failed to fire. Mystery opened her eyes to see the woman staring at her gun in confusion. She pulled the trigger several more times to the same effect. Mystery felt her lips turn up at the corners as she stared down at the woman.
"What happened to you to make you so callous to the suffering of others?" Mystery asked the woman sadly.
The old woman grimaced at her as she smacked the gun with her cane, as if she could bash it into a functional weapon. "What does it matter? The past is in the past and this is who I am now. I'm not about to start fussing about morals this late in the game."
"I'm sorry for whatever trauma you experienced to make you like this," Mystery told the woman sympathetically. "There is plenty of good in the world still. Every time someone gives up, it becomes that much darker. How many parents lost the laughter of their children after you stole them away. How many people will never trust old ladies again when your story is revealed? How many other old ladies will suffer because they will no longer be trusted? I'm sorry for the monster you have become and whatever it was that turned you into this ghoul preying on the weak and innocent."
The woman lifted her cane to strike Mystery, her face twisted with rage and self-loathing. As she raised the cane high into the air, her back suddenly gave out and she collapsed to the ground with a cry of pain.
"You really are a monster," Mystery told her with a sigh of disappointment. She put Lord Borris down on the ground and turned away, walking toward the train station. The woman began yelling curses at her back, her voice filled with blackout rage. Mystery ignored her.
She was joined by a raccoon when she reached the other side of the street. She glanced down at Azeban curiously as they walked. "Are you responsible for her gun jamming?"
"Do you have any idea what Rhapsody would do to me if anything happened to you?" Azeban asked laconically. "Being turned into a hat would be the least of my worries."
"Why does she care what happens to me?" Mystery asked curiously, feeling a warm glow at the knowledge that the beautiful fairy was watching out for her.
"Do you remember the offer she made for you in the circle?" Azeban asked, his tone cheerful.
"To become a world tree," Mystery responded quietly. Saying it out loud made it sound even stranger than thinking it did. Actually becoming a world tree and projecting an avatar like Rhapsody. "I'm curious why she doesn't just find somebody else for the role. There must be better candidates than me somewhere on Earth."
"Do you think that's really true?" Azeban asked pointedly. "Do you think she wouldn't have picked someone else if there was a better candidate than you? If there were even any candidates besides you."
"Wait, hold up," Mystery exclaimed in shock, her stomach churning with sudden anxiety. "What do you mean, if there were even any candidates besides me? There must be a ton of other people who could fulfill these roles."
"You know that world trees are transitioned stars, right?" Azeban asked expectantly.
"Yeah, Rhapsody mentioned that," Mystery nodded nervously. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"A regular spirit can't become a world tree," Azeban explained, glancing up at her significantly. "It takes a mature spirit to become a world tree. You and Harmony are the first mature spirits to visit this world since Rhapsody arrived. Harmony has lived through dozens of incarnations, while you have been through at least twenty. Your average human might make it to three incarnations before they move on to find easier places to grow spiritually. Harmony and her nieces are the only mature spirits on this world, besides you. I'm sorry to put the world on your shoulders, but without you this plan is going to fail."
"That can't be right," Mystery shook her head disbelievingly. "You're telling me that in the hundreds of thousands of years that Rhapsody has been on this world, Harmony and I are the first mature spirits to visit this place?"
"You don't understand how rare it is for spirits to visit mortality repeatedly," Azeban told her gravely. "Mortality is a difficult and painful place. When given the choice to move on to a place with no pain, almost every spirit takes that option. Some will visit one or two more times, but that's it."
"If it is so rare, how are there four of us all within one generation?" Mystery inquired shrewdly. "Those odds seem pretty astronomical."
"You came at her request," Azeban answered simply.
Mystery stopped walking and pushed her hands up against the side of her head, staring down at the ground. Could she really be here by direct request? She felt her breathing speed up as anxiety flooded her system. She felt trapped, a feeling that terrified her. When she had lost her leg, she had nearly gone mad with claustrophobia. She had felt like her freedom had been stolen. In her teenage years she had been an avid runner and hiker. She had eventually pushed herself to be able to do those things again with her prosthetic, but it wasn't anything like the freedom she had remembered with her real leg.
Now, she felt like her choices had been taken. If she didn't accept Rhapsody's offer to become a world tree, untold billions would die, possibly even the planet. She was pretty sure the planet was a living entity as well.
That old fear of being trapped crept back into her heart as she looked into the future and only saw one possible option that her conscience could live with.
"It's not certain that the world will fail without your help," Azeban spoke reluctantly. "Three world trees would probably be enough to stabilize this world for tens of thousands of years."
Mystery paused, feeling her anxiety ease up a little. They wouldn't fail if she didn't join them. Not for a long time, anyway. Tens of thousands of years should be long enough to find another mature soul to incarnate and become a world tree. Hell, that should be enough time for a star to transition and provide the real thing.
Taking a deep, calming breath, she began walking again. She looked down at her fully functional leg and smiled. She had been whisked away by the NSA too fast to actually spend any time enjoying her restored leg. She broke into a run for the last mile to the train station. She grinned as she finally felt the freedom she had missed so dearly. She received some odd looks as she passed other pedestrians with a huge grin on her face. She didn't care. She was finally free.