39: Out in the Open
By Tuesday morning Katrina had seen everything but understood nothing. From auragraphs of corridors strewn with unconscious Godhand Inquisitors to scenes of the cult’s manor being consumed by a brilliant sphere of light, the first batch of auragraphs she’d developed looked as if they’d been plucked from her darkest dreams. They pulled at her memories like she would rogue threads of old clothes until they came apart, and cast her trust in reality into question. If things happened that she couldn’t remember, how could she be sure anything she remembered was real?
The second batch of auragraphs helped comfort her erratic thoughts. She’d expected to find images of old buildings she’d been investigating, including the mansion Phoenie had dragged everyone to. Unlike the Godhand images there was nothing surreal or out-of-the-ordinary about them, aside from the small mob of druggies Phoenie had been convinced were zombies!
But then there was the last image and, more than any other, it grasped those strands of Katrina’s memory, yanked at them, and unravelled the tapestry. She had full memory of the context – she’d been investigating a burnt out warehouse with Phantasia – but it was the content that threw her. Phantasia didn’t have any ordinary aura: she had wings.
“Do you ever feel like you’re about to remember something you don’t remember happening?” Katrina asked the other girls in the changing room. Ruby and Topaz were getting ready for another hated Survival lesson in the freezing cold swimming pool. It was a question she’d wanted to ask for some time now, but the fear of coming across as mentally deranged had kept t at bay. With hard evidence to support her case, though, Katrina had nothing to fear.
“I’m always forgetting shit,” said Lyra, “It’s my dreams I’m worried about. I’m used to ninja squirrels infiltrating badger castles in search of secret treasure but recently I get dreams of Godhand. Keep infiltrating their old base with Doyle of all people. And anyone who mentions Freud gets a punch in the face,”
“So I’m not the only crazy one?” said Elone, adjusting the bust of her swimming costume while admiring herself in a mirror, “I got the same dreams, only featuring – don’t laugh – Joel Gibson,”
Katrina expected Phoenie to chime in with something or other, be it a paranoid theory, an accusation of them being paranoid, or just some everyday gossip about who fancied who. Instead she was hiding in the corner, gripping a cloak of towels and biting her lip.
“I was with Theseus and John,” said Andromeda, adding to the collective confusion, “We found some kind of secret underground area and were captured by these knights in black, full-plate armour.”
Armoured knights? Katrina had an auragraph of them! She turned to her rucksack and pondered whether this was the opportune moment to reveal everything but her hand resisted the urge. Part of her was still afraid of the truth. Maybe they were forgetting things for a good reason? Phoenie must have caught her hesitation as, just as she was reaching towards the brown envelope sticking out of her bag, her friend’s hand clamped around her wrist.
“We don’t know who’s watching us!” she through clenched teeth, eyes flickering about the changing room with wild paranoia, “This could all be,” her voice became a sharp whisper, “A Godhand plot!”
“Don’t suppose anyone remembers a sea monster?” asked Lyra, “You know, back when we were on the summer trip?”
“Was it really tall?” asked Elone, “With long arms like a monkey?”
“And did it have these really long horns?” asked Andromeda, imitating them with her fingers.
Phoenie waved her arms around frantically. “Girls! We can’t talk like this in the open! They might hear us!”
“And just the other week Kaori tried to off herself,” said Lyra, “And there was something about the club having weird shit going on underneath it,”
“That’s ’cause you hang out with freaks,” said Elone with a snarl.
