Darkhaven

‘Are you okay?′ Dad asked as we walked into a swanky cafe. I nodded vaguely. He watched me like he was waiting for me to faint or something. My neck stung where the needle had jabbed it, but I figured whatever Sean had wanted me injected with, presumably some drug to knock me out, had mostly stayed in the syringe when Dad had intervened. The restaurant was almost full, although thankfully not loud, and most of the customers were sitting at tiny tables set for one or two with their laptops or notebooks. The hushed room was dim, every dark wood table lit by its own lamp hanging just above it, giving each area a sense of enclosed privacy. It seemed like a peaceful place to read a book and enjoy a hot chocolate.

Dad led me to a table in the corner with high-backed, cushioned chairs. I sighed as I sank into mine. A waiter appeared, and Dad ordered a chocolate milkshake, a latte and two eggs Benedict. The waiter disappeared with barely a word, leaving a jug of chilled water on the table.

‘All-day breakfast,’ Dad said, smiling serenely.

‘Don’t you want to know what happened? Why I was being attacked?’ I asked.

He gave me a sympathetic smile. ‘It’s a top-secret facility for a black-ops Taskforce commissioned by a security office that I direct. I know what happened, Gabby. I’m sorry I didn’t get back sooner.’ He put his hand on mine.

I swallowed. He hadn’t gone to see the higher-ups. He was the higher-ups. I let his admission sit for a moment, and then pulled my hand back. ‘So is that where you work when you’re in town?’

‘It’s part of where I work.’

‘What you just did, getting me out – will that be a problem for you?’

‘How about,’ he said, pouring water and pushing a glass towards me, ‘you leave that for me to worry about.’ He smiled warmly, but there was still a shadow in his eyes. I held his gaze for a moment, then looked away. I couldn’t get an intuitive sense of him, but he was obviously troubled.

‘I’ll always look out for you,’ he said.

‘Thanks,’ I mumbled, wondering if I should be grateful or wary. My intuition was giving me nothing. For now, I knew it was safe enough to trust Dad. But something about him still nagged at me. He knew more than he was letting on.

Our drinks arrived. I took a sip, still struggling to control the trembling that came in various waves. Shock, I supposed. But even through my mental haze, I realised the milkshake was delicious. No sour milk detected by my super-taste buds this time, but I did get a hint of carob. Unlike Alex’s health chocolates, this was…

‘Amazing.’ I hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Dad flashed a grin. ‘Right?’

‘How come you’ve kept this place secret? Or is it like, a special government restaurant or something?’

‘Let’s go with “or something”.’

‘If it’s exclusive, how come I can be here now?’

‘Well, I am one of their best customers.’ The waiter brought our meals. Perfectly poached eggs sat atop piles of house-smoked salmon, fresh spinach and lightly buttered English muffins, all drizzled with a deliciously lemon-scented hollandaise. Two glasses of sparkling wine were placed on the table.

‘Compliments of the house, Mr Whitehall.’ The waiter gave a reverent smile and vanished. I stared at the bubbles streaming to the top of the glass, then at the space where the waiter had been.

‘You’re like royalty,’ I remarked.

Unperturbed, Dad picked up his glass and took a sip. I was cautious. The first and last time I’d tried wine, I’d been twelve years old. It had been a stinking-hot summer afternoon. Dad had poured us drinks – apple juice for me and Chardonnay for him, both in wine glasses since I insisted on having a grown-up beverage. Dad looked so refreshed, sitting back on the patio, sweating wine glass in one hand, frozen strawberry in the other, that I begged for a sip. Of course, it was disgusting, all sour and mouldy-tasting, and I impetuously declared that wine would never be for me. Since then, I’d stuck to light apple cider when Dad permitted a quiet drink on special occasions, and a four-pack of bright green, zesty-lime premixed vodkas when Zenna and I had been feeling bold enough to sneak into a dodgy-looking bottle shop on her seventeenth birthday. Stealing Alex’s port had been a rare break. It was a tame life.

After a surreptitious sniff of the sparkling wine, I took a tiny sip. Bubbles burst across my tongue, then it was gone, before I even had a chance to taste it. I tried again with a bigger mouthful. The fizz was delightful, the flavour subtle and fruity. Sipping away, I found myself two-thirds down the glass.

‘You should eat while you drink that,’ Dad suggested.

I set the glass down and turned my attention to the salmon and eggs, but it was too late. I felt as if the bubbles had escaped up to my brain and were jiggling it around so that every time I tried to catch a thought, it slipped out of reach like a butterfly evading a net. On the other hand, the sensory overload dulled a bit, and I felt my muscles relaxing for the first time in weeks. Even my mind started to drop its guard.

I smothered some salmon in sauce and relished the complexity of the tastes and textures. The fish was so tender it melted into my tongue, and I savoured the smoky flavour. Since my advanced taste was easier to control – just don’t eat anchovies was the extent of Donovan’s advice – I’d simply avoided strong flavours and focussed on getting my other senses in order. Now I wondered if I’d been missing out, not exploring more taste options, or if I’d just been too stressed to notice what I was eating lately. Maybe both.

I washed down a mouthful of spinach and runny egg yolk with more wine. I wanted answers, and Dad seemed to be in a good mood. Besides, he owed me.

‘So you know about Luci,’ I began. It wasn’t a question, but I wanted him to acknowledge it. He nodded as he took a mouthful.

‘Do you know…’ I tried to think of a way to tease it out of him without telling him about Netica, in case he didn’t know. Then I thought of Sean. Dad was obviously even higher up in this system than I’d realised. Whatever Sean knew, Dad had known for ages.

He lowered his fork. ‘That she’s still working for the Netica Project?’

‘How long have you known?’

A sombre look came into his eyes. ‘Nearly eighteen years.’ His voice was barely more than a whisper, but I had no trouble hearing it.

‘Does Alex know that she’s still alive?’

Dad shook his head. ‘He doesn’t know about any of this. The Netica Project is well above his clearance level. What was done to you, he never would have allowed. He’s always tried to protect you, far better than I ever did.’

What was that supposed to mean? His eyes tightened, creases deepening around his features as his expression closed. Now I had to be cagey, careful, and ask questions that would garner answers instead of shutting him down. It was tricky, what with my brain floating around in a champagne bubble bath. ‘Why do you hunt the people who found me?’

‘We don’t hunt them. They’re not animals.’ He smiled, but it looked forced.

‘But you have them on a hit list.’ I wondered if that was the real term. Funny, how you could be so close to someone and have no real idea what they did, and then find that they had entire eating establishments pulling out all the stops for them just for a late brunch. As if on cue, our empty champagne glasses and plates were cleared, and within seconds two glasses of red wine appeared out of thin air, although I noticed that Dad’s was a few shades darker than mine. I was amazed again at how pleasant it was to drink. Dad toyed with the stem of his glass.

‘They are a Taskforce set up specifically to eliminate all uncontrolled traces of the Praegressus program. Obviously, we don’t want to kill innocent people, so we don’t target the test subjects until they become active. As for the people you mentioned, well, they had the choice to come over quietly. They still do.’

‘What would happen to them?’ I asked, voice small. I hadn’t missed the terminology: uncontrolled traces. Obviously the Taskforce wasn’t eliminating all traces. Just the ones that weren’t in their laboratories.

Dad shrugged. ‘That’s for me to decide, if it ever arises.’ His shoulders were strained, in a way I’d never seen, as if he were carrying a heavy weight.

The waiter took advantage of our silence to return and clear our empty glasses. ‘Excuse me sir, but Chef Antioni has requested that you try their new dessert.’

Dad looked up, smiling, all melancholy slipping away as if it had been a mask of smoke. ‘Please tell them we’d be delighted.’

The waiter returned minutes later, placing two plates with a chocolatey square in the centre on the table. The dish looked simple, presented with a swirl of sauce and an intricate chocolate lace thing jutting out on top. I picked up the cake fork and took a bite.

I had to stop myself from sliding off my chair and face-planting into the plate to inhale the whole thing. If heaven had a taste, it would be this. It was smooth and textured, like fine layers of wafer between moussey fudge, a decadent chocolate that melted into every crevice of my mouth and lingered with a subtle orange flavour right at the end. I could have cried.

We didn’t talk for a while, enjoying the dessert and yet another wine – this one a deep amber that danced in its glass, felt like syrup on my tongue and tasted like nostalgia and raisins sitting in the sun. I was surprised to find that my glass was empty.

I tried to stand and my head, rather than tittering about on its bubbles, swam in circles instead. I paused, hand on the chair to steady myself.

Dad chuckled. ‘Come on,’ he said, taking my arm with a firm, gentle hand. ‘Let’s go home.’

***

Initially, I insisted on returning to school, but Dad wouldn’t hear of it. He settled me on the couch, supplied me with a glass of water and a juice that looked suspiciously green, then snapped open his briefcase and lifted something out of it. It was the remains of my tracking bracelet.

‘I imagine you’ll be wanting this back,’ he said, passing it to me. I clasped it around my wrist so I wouldn’t lose it in case Donovan wanted it back. The damaged plate scratched my skin.

Dad disappeared into his office, leaving me on the couch pretending to read Dickens. I was still only halfway through. The words swam around the page dizzyingly, making even less sense to me than usual. I longed to read, to lose myself in someone else’s story for a while, but all I could think about, now that both the shock of the events and the buzz of the wine were wearing off, was how I’d failed. I hadn’t got Luci out. The deal was off. After the next thunderstorm, while my friends were preparing for uni and internships, a body that looked like mine would be found lying on a footpath or something, apparently killed by a lightning strike. I’d never see them again. I wondered if Keraun could stop all thunderstorms in Perth for the next decade or two.

A phone beeped, startling me out of my musings, but it wasn’t mine. Dad hurried past, briefcase in hand, and after admonishing me to rest and drink water, took off. I was left alone. I shivered as I looked around the open living room, where Sean had first met me.

I hadn’t really wanted to go to school. I’d just wanted to get away from any prying ears and speak to someone from Darkhaven, but now that I had the opportunity, I found that I was reluctant to call Stephen. What would I say? I’d failed. I tossed the book aside and plodded down the hall to my room. I still felt light-headed, unable to make sense of things properly. Perhaps reading some Discworld would make me feel better. Granny Weatherwax always left me in a good mood.

I opened my bedroom door, glimpsed a dark shape on my bed and started, staggering against the door frame. Keraun was sprawled over the unmade mess, reading my economics textbook. He was trying to look casual, but I could feel the tension rolling off him.

‘Hey,’ he greeted me, his voice taut.

‘What?’ I asked bluntly, caught off-guard and grumpy about my mission failure.

He looked up, angry brown eyes grazing my face before returning to the book. He closed it and set it on my bedside table, interrogating me with his gaze. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Tell you what?’

‘That it was your mother you were after. That she put you into the Praegressus program.’

I stared at him. If I was awkward admitting it before, it was nothing to the humiliation that flooded me now. Now that I knew she’d left me.

‘I don’t know.’ I flopped down on the bed next to him and lay back. My head was still spinning from the wine, and words like Praegressus were slippery in my mind.

‘I found your file at the Taskforce, and more on the Praegressus. Luci’s signature is all over it.’

I didn’t answer. It was hard to form a complete idea as I swayed between righteous anger and tipsy indifference. She’d been dead to me all these years. She could just go back to being dead. Why did it matter?

After a moment, Keraun lay back too, staring at the ceiling with its galactic swirls and one lonely glow-in-the-dark star that had survived all these years. ‘I know what it’s like.’

I gazed at the star. ‘What’s that?’

‘Having a mother who doesn’t see you.’

Except my mother had seen me. Stared right at me, and told me to leave like I was just one more irritation in the ointment of her day. What she hadn’t seen was the little red-haired girl clutching an unfinished crayon drawing while her father yelled at her. ‘What happened?’ I asked.

He clasped his hands on his chest, twisting his thumbs. ‘I dropped out of school. She hasn’t spoken to me since, except for Sol meetings.’

‘Sounds harsh.’

He sighed. ‘It wasn’t just her. But she took it personally.’

‘Screw them both, then.’

Keraun flipped onto an elbow, his face just inches away from mine. His eyes burned at the edges.

‘Is she the reason you wanted to get into the Taskforce?’ He watched me, face intense. I tried to keep my expression relaxed, which actually wasn’t that difficult. The alcohol reasserted itself, making things seem trivial, and suddenly his vexation was amusing. He frowned, inhaling deeply. ‘Are you drunk?’

‘Maybe a little.’ I giggled. ‘And yeah. Well, that was some of it. So what?’

He moved his arm, lifting it past his hip towards me, but then stopped, letting it fall onto the bed. ‘What was the rest of it?’

No point holding back now. ‘Stephen promised me that I could live on my own terms if we were successful. No fake death and leaving my family and friends.’ Except all that was bust. Unless … Keraun had mentioned there were files. Files that might help Darkhaven’s research. If I could go back and get them, convince Dad to help … I toyed with the bedspread, ruffling it, then smoothing out the creases, not meeting Keraun’s gaze. After a moment, he placed his fingers under my chin and lifted my face to look at him. I pulled my chin away but held his gaze.

‘I understand why you did it,’ he said. ‘But I need you to promise me something.’

His eyes drilled through mine, straight through my brain and into the place I called my “guilt centre”, a special part of my mind that Cecelia was particularly good at appealing to when she wanted me to study with her instead of going to the Shack.

Reflexively, I nodded. ‘Sure.’

About a millisecond later, I regretted it.

‘Please don’t go back. To the Taskforce.’ It was like he’d pulled the idea out of my head with his stare.

‘Why not? Luci could have captured me today. She didn’t.’ I had to admit that the small part of my brain that seemed impervious to wine agreed with him.

‘She also didn’t call off security. When that agent caught you in the hallway, there was nothing I could do. Not without risking everything. And Gabby, I don’t want…’ he trailed off, eyes glowing yellow. I met his gaze questioningly, waiting for him to finish. He looked away. ‘Just be safe, okay?’

‘Okay.’ For an alien god, he was rubbish at explaining things. I figured I could be safe on my own terms. I didn’t want or expect him to swoop in and save me from anything. He stared at me again. It was mind-scrambling, with the yellow eyes.

‘Sure? You did just promise. You can’t get out of it because you had a glass of wine.’

‘I promise to be safe.’ I had no idea how exactly to keep that promise, so I tried changing the subject again, just to ease the gaze he had skewered me with. ‘How do you know it was wine?’

He laughed and rolled away, his eyes returning to brown. The pressure that had been building between us simmered down. ‘I can smell it.’

I giggled again, almost swallowing a burp. Half of it escaped. We lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

‘Can I ask you something?’ I said, speaking up to the swirly ceiling.

‘Sure.’

‘What else did you find in the Taskforce files?’

‘Praegressus is a retrovirus that rewrites human DNA with subtle magic. You wouldn’t be the first race to genetically modify yourselves to accelerate your evolution, but very few actually make it work.’

‘There have been others?’

‘It’s happening all over the universe as we speak. Our history books cover major events. Usually, modification goes horribly wrong without the magic to back it up.’ A cloud drifted over his face.

An unsettling sensation crawled through my stomach. I rolled over to look at him. ‘Am I, like, healthy?’

He grinned. ‘More than healthy. Whoever started this used Ma, the healing magic, so it’s stable. We all have basically the same DNA, humans all over the universe. Other civilisations have wiped themselves out with accelerated modification, but you now have genetic expression that just about matches mine. Of course, you need to train it. You can’t cheat that part.’

So we were magically modified humans. I recalled an earlier conversation. ‘Could you help me train so I can travel to other star systems?’

This time he laughed outright. ‘Talk about pick the hardest thing.’

‘Why is it the hardest?’

Before he could reply, my phone rang. I bent down to pick it up from the floor where it must have fallen and saw Stephen’s name flashing. I silenced the phone and clambered back onto the bed.

‘Shouldn’t you answer that?’

I shrugged. ‘It can wait. He didn’t exactly drop everything to see me off before sending me into the Taskforce.’

Keraun pretended to look hurt. ‘And here I was, thinking you were just enjoying my company too much to leave.’

Rolling my eyes, I turned to give him a sarcastic smirk, but I stopped – he had slid closer, and his face was inches away from mine. I swallowed, uncomfortable looking into his eyes this closely, but unable to look away. In my peripheral vision, his hand hovered in mid-air, indecisive, inching towards me as his eyes began to glow with their surreal yellow. I was acutely aware of the doona rustling with every micro-movement and the feel of my shirt on my back as I let my eyes drift down to his lips. They were closed, but I knew that if I leaned a fraction closer, they would part, and so would mine, and I hadn’t refreshed my lipstick when I got home, although maybe lipstick was actually kinda gross for kissing, or perhaps he wouldn’t want Siren Red on his face, and I could hear both our hearts beating, this close; mine was racing, and his barely above a slow thud so it could be that I had read this whole thing wrong and how was a person ever supposed to –

My phone rang again, puncturing the moment like an overinflated balloon and leaving it in tatters on the floor. I fumbled for the phone. It slipped down between the front of the bed and the wall and continued ringing on the floor.

‘You’re a woman in demand. I’ll go,’ Keraun said, already standing and stretching one side, his lanky arm reaching up to the ceiling.

‘Stay,’ I urged. Belly down on the bed, I thrust my arm after the phone. It stopped ringing.

‘It’s okay. Call me.’ Keraun flashed a grin and, in a movement so fast he might have just vanished, disappeared out the door.

I crawled under the bed to rescue my phone from the dust bunnies and saw it was Zenna calling this time. Head still spinning from either Keraun’s recent proximity or perhaps the three glasses of wine and sudden standing up, I flopped back on the bed and sent Zenna a text.

What’s up?

Meet outside the surf club, ten minutes?

Sure. Aren’t you at school?

I didn’t really expect her to answer that, since I was obviously absent too. It was about ten minutes into lunchtime. I booked a rideshare and waited in the driveway, thinking of what Sean had said and hoping she hadn’t done anything reckless.