Feather Dark

Chapter 12

Noah

"Son?" Pop hailed me from the doorway of the war room, his bold tones subdued. "Noah, you need to get some rest."

I shook my head, dismissing him. "No. Not until the beacon is activated."

"You can't not sleep, Noah. It's been three days."

"The world record for the longest period without sleep is eleven days and twenty-five minutes. Randy Gardner suffered only mild paranoia and hallucinations, so I'm certain I'll survive."

Finished with the debate, such as it was, I turned back to the computer screens, waiting for the notifications from the tiny transmitter hidden inside my brother.

Pop's warm hand landed on my shoulder. "He'll be okay."

I grunted. Pop had no evidence to support his statement; the last we'd seen of Leigh was an unsteady YouTube video shot on a less-than-HD phone camera. My brother, ranting from his tall perch before gliding to the ground and being escorted away. The video was deleted from the server after only a few minutes, but I'd had an alert set for key terms and managed to render a copy before it was scrubbed.

"We should have tracked him in person," I said, feeling a rising frustration, and more frustration that I felt frustrated. Frustration wasn't a common emotion for me; frustration was driven by impotence, and I was rarely without recourse.

"You know that was too dangerous. If Sevic suspects for even a moment that Leigh isn't genuine, he could be killed."

I didn't have an intelligent response. It was distressing that my elderly and emotional grandfather was capable of more logic than me in this situation.

Pop squeezed my shoulder. "Take a break for a few hours. A watched pot never boils."

"A pot will boil at exactly the same time regardless if it is monitored or not."

"Noah, get out of here before I send in Talon to give you that makeover he's desperate to perform on you."

Reluctantly, I rose. "I will rest so I am ready when the call comes."

"Your brother is resilient, son." Pop escorted me out of the room. "Worrying so much doesn't help."

My urge to reject his erroneous statement flared, then receded. Worrying didn't serve a purpose, but analysing the situation from every angle meant that I'd be prepared.

I left the house and strode towards the gardens. Resting didn't mean I had to sleep; a few minutes in meditation would serve as well as a short slumber, and leave me far fresher.

At my favourite bench in the centre of the gardens, I sat, closed my eyes and steadied my breathing. My progress had been prodigious, but without the obsessive-compulsive tendencies that were the hallmark of my previous fixations. Meditation fit me; it wasn't a new discovery - it was arriving home.

In the warm night air, I allowed my mind to float and focus. I followed the steps inside my mental tower, the long circular corridor that led down, deeper and deeper into my subconscious mind. Through the windows, I could see my concerns for Leigh, my hopes for Keira's safe return, all the emotional clutter that prevented me from concentrating to my full potential, floating like storm clouds. As I watched, the breath that poured through me physically, also energetically swept the skies of my mind clear. A gentle breeze tugged at the clouds, and the blue sky shone anew.

After a time that felt timeless, I ascended, locating myself back within the lines of my body again. With my eyes closed, I noted the air on my skin, the cool stone against my sit bones, and the presence of another. "Masque."