As soon as the door is closed, Cleve explodes. “What just happened!?” It’s incredulity in his voice, not concern or alarm.
¡Vaya! I am not sure I entirely believe that all just did. I slump back against my pillows, eyes closed.
Marina’s elbows are on the table, her face hidden by her hands as she holds her head. “I told you those cultists are out of their minds!”
“So, are you some sort of divine matchmaker or something?” Cleve ribs me.
My eyes spring open. “You know, that matchmaker thing came in fast at the end there,” I say.
“I’m a little dizzy from that conversation,” he admits, mirth lines wrinkling around his eyes.
I lie there, staring up at the ceiling and shaking my head, bewildered by it all. “I am the last person in the world—in two worlds—that should be matchmaking anybody with anyone.”
“How can they believe that stuff?” Marina marvels. Her reddish-brown cheeks seem to be a deeper hue than usual. Is she blushing?
“Well, depending on what the words are…” I shrug. “Look,” I say, speaking frankly now, “it’s very easy to make people believe things that there’s a shred of evidence pointing to if they want to believe anyway. That’s how sales works.”
“Who says it’s not true?” Cleve counters. “At any rate, I don’t think they’re a threat.” He seems satisfied with that.
“In the beginning it sounded kind of like they were—”
“It did!”
“—but hopefully not now,” I say with satisfaction. “See the power of talking to me! Instead of just attacking me!”
“That’s a point in the cultists’ favor,” Marina agrees. “They came and talked, and it all worked out. And you know, we thought the cultists had abducted you at first.”
“Dr. Gupta claimed that they wanted to,” I share. “It would have been a plausible idea if I hadn’t detected the pheromones she used on me.”
It’s quiet for a moment, and then Marina asks, “You’re not really going to work with them, are you, Mariah?”
“What do you mean by work with them? Get them to persuade people to vote in favor of opposing Morgan? Yes, that’s why we came.”
“But you would pose as their savior, as their messiah?”
“I didn’t say that I was going to lead their revolution.”
“And there are a lot of interpretations about what armies can be,” Cleve interjects.
“However, if people have something that is their guiding light and interpret events in accordance with it, then that’s a way to get them to do what we want them to do,” I tell Marina. “And it’s not going to hurt anybody along the way. Not if it’s done right. Not if it’s done thoughtfully. Not if it’s done with preparation.” Hopefully she can see how all these qualifiers matter. How they illustrate the difference between executing a well thought-out plan and recklessly blundering forward with the back-justification that one is simply doing whatever it takes to succeed. “I don’t think I’m any sort of savior. I do think I am special because of marinating in Chiron for thirty years. And I think Sal’s right. Not everybody is going to view me as normal. I can’t help that people are going to view me a certain way. I can try to work that to our advantage.” Marina breathes out a long sigh. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. But that’s what we came here to do.”
“A vote is a vote,” she says with resolve.
“Do they have a vote?” Cleve asks.
“Sal has the ear of one of the council members,” Marina tells him.
“I think on our side is better than against us,” Cleve says practically.
“Also, I think that cultists not abducting me in the middle of the night for some ritual—which it sounds like is less likely to happen now—is a good thing,” I add, and Marina agrees.
“I mean, Sal wasn’t wrong; I don’t want to be mowing down a bunch of cultists,” Cleve says. “I was trying not to when we were dealing with the briar beasts!” He gives a swift shake of his head, and then mutters, “I dunno, what an odd person!”
“Oh, do you know Jack?” I ask Marina. “You’re about the same age.” I assume that, given the small size of this society, they would have gone to school together. But maybe everyone was home-schooled like Bim.
“Yes,” Marina says, drawing out the word. “Not well, but I know him. He’s Deirdre’s son.”
“You don’t know him well enough to tell me anything about him?”
“Jack isn’t a fan of commitment,” she shares, and Cleve laughs out loud at that news.
“Okay! I can see one of the issues that Sal is dealing with,” I groan.
“He was also briefly in the rangers.”
“That is a thing people dabble in?” I ask.
“When they’re afraid of commitment, apparently,” Cleve squeezes out between chortles.
I mull this over, trying to construct a better picture of Jack Skye. “I suppose it also seems to have a sort of cultish feel to it, the rangers,” I say.
“The more I learn about that organization, yes, a little bit like that,” Marina agrees. “Ayumu and I were close. Jack was a year or two before. But he didn’t last, or it didn’t suit him.” She shrugs. “I don’t know.” Something’s off in her voice. Is she upset thinking about Ayumu’s death?
Cleve snickers over in his chair. “You encounter the messiah. The first thing you do is ask them to set you up with one of your friends.” He looks at me with fake intensity. “Do you have anything that can cure the friend zone?”
I laugh, appreciating the levity, but eventually it fades into a sigh, and I shake my head at the whole situation, with a muttered, “Oh, jeez.”
“Who do you want Mariah to set you up with?” Cleve asks Marina, still laughing. He must be so relieved that this was the outcome of Sal’s visit, not another physical altercation. “Are you interested in Jack, too?” Her laughter sounds forced to my ears, and a blush spreads across her cheeks again. She darts a glance at me, and I finally realize what’s going on with her.
So, she has feelings for me. Not the messiah kind, not the science experiment kind, not the medical doctor kind. Not the friend kind. That’s a good thing to be aware of… not that I know what to do about it. Well, I suppose for starters I can better monitor my casual physical contact with her, so as not to send her the wrong signals. This didn’t just start now, with my kidnapping, I bet. Maybe this goes all the way back to her coming out into the jungle after me when she thought I had lethal levels of miasma in my system.
I close my eyes and settle back into my pillows, embracing the excuse of needing rest. All these many new problems can wait until tomorrow.
Fin