The knock at the door surprised Claire just as much as it had Dr. K, who had stopped his explanation of Taylor series midword. Looking uncertaintly at the class first, and deciding to address the interruption, he bobbled to the door, opening it enough for the office secretary to lean in for a whisper. The way the secretary seemed to point at Claire with her eyes made her wonder if she was here for her. Claire dismissed the impression as paranoia.

  “Ah, Claire?” Dr. K. called in the same rhythmic voice as always, though it had lost all of its cheerfulness, “can you ‘eh grab your things? You are ‘eh needed downstairs.” Claire sat for a second, dumbfounded. She hadn’t talked with her other last night, but she had the night before. They had talked about the final exams that were coming up, on the morality of using her power to look at the answers and on whether or not showing up to school was a valuable use of time for the next few weeks remaining.

  This shouldn’t be happening, almost couldn’t be happening. Her other and her had talked all night about the events of this upcoming week, this hadn’t come up. There was no way she just forgot, since Claire journaled everyday now - so did her other and there’s no way this would have been left out. The secretary walked Claire out the room and patiently down the stairs. Claire counted thirty stairs. Had something changed since that conversation? The consequences of the butterfly effect notwithstanding, she really hadn’t done anything interesting enough to veer far off course, had she?

  The secretary entered the office, taking her place behind the front desk. She sat, but waited. The whole room felt still - like it too waited.

  “Am I in trouble?” She asked, noticing the principal and an older woman watching her enter the office.

  “Feel free to use my office ma’am.” The principal addressed the old woman, ignoring Claire’s question.

  “Thank you. We won’t take long.” Nothing in her voice felt reminiscent of a grandma, despite being old enough to be one, she looked hardened and cold. There was no color about her from her mostly white hair to the black and white dress she wore. The principal made room, leaving his office as the woman moved expectantly inside inviting Claire without saying a word.

  Claire obeyed, entered the principal’s office for the first time and took a seat opposite the large cluttered desk.

  “Am I in trouble?” she asked again.

  “No, dear, you’re not.” The woman closed the door and pulled the desk chair from behind the principal’s desk, wheeling it closer to Claire until they sat more or less face to face.

  “My name is Claudia, Judge Wolfe if you wish to be formal, I work at the municipal court house.”

  “Oh, my mom works there.” The woman looked exhausted, every moment of the conversation only exasperating the expression.

  “Yes, I actually didn’t know that until this morning. Paralegal right?” Claudia laced her fingers together tapping her thumb for a heartbeat too long, just long enough to make it uncomfortable.

  “I’m here because I, in addition to my other duties, act as something of a hand up in extreme situations involving exceptional young people like you. In times of crisis, it often helps to have someone help with basic things until they get their feet back under them.” Claire stared stupidly - extreme situation?

  “So, I am sorry to tell you like this, but unfortunately there was a fire at your house this morning - an arson actually. There’s a lot that is going to happen in the next few hours, or days, but know this - you are safe. I have a place for you stay tonight and tomorrow -” The judge blinked for a long time, forcing her eyes open, wrinkling her forehead.

  “Tomorrow - we will deal with… tomorrow.” She added finally.

  Impossible. Claire looked across the woman’s face, her body language, anywhere for some evidence of this not being real. Was she dreaming? Was she the other in the real Claire’s dream somewhere out there? Plus, her house had been there every time she visited her future self; it didn’t make sense. What could she have possibly done to cause this?

  “Do my parents know yet? Can I see them? Or at least call them?”

  “We will handle that later. First things first, we need to get you out of here and get you somewhere safe. Then there is the matter of some clothes, food and furniture I have arriving for you.” Only then did the gravity of the situation start to permeate into understanding. Everything was gone. Clothes, books, furniture, pictures. Everything. Claire looked at the grey shirt with “love” in red, at her grey and brown skirt. Her black shoes. These were now her only possessions in the whole wide world and not a stitch or scrap more.

  “Why?” Claire asked, still pulling on her own clothes as if seeing them for the first time.

  “We’ll get there. I know you don’t know me, Claire but I do know you and I hope you’ll believe me when I say that I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Anything.” It did feel weird to trust this perfect stranger, but she couldn’t help it, even in her somewhat cold demenor, Claire felt invited in my her. Still, she was a perfect stranger.

  “I don’t think I’m supposed to go with strangers… um sorry.”

  “You’re right - and that’s good, but these are extenuating circumstances. Everything has been arranged, your school knows about your situation, I have already asked if you can take your finals later - or maybe have them waved given that they seem like a formality for you anyway.” The judge stood, looking down at Claire and offered her hand.

  “It’s just for now, we’ll deal with tomorrow when the time comes.” Claire’s mind pulled away to a far off place for a moment. Where would she sleep tonight? Would she have to share a room with her parents? Did she still have to brush her teeth? They would probably stay with her aunt Lilly until they got a new house. Would they get a new house?

  “Can I call them first?” The two walked hand in hand out the front door, catching Claire off guard slightly, when had they left the office? The sun felt unusually bright, forcing Claire to squint - she felt a little lightheaded.

  “Ordinarily, yes. Things as they are, we’ll have to wait on that for a bit. I promise I will take you to them tomorrow at the latest, ok?” Claudia opened the back seat door to the black car conveniently close albeit technically illegally parked.

  The two drove in silence for a few minutes, which Claire appreciated. It felt easier to talk after a while, as she started loosening her grip on her seatbelt, which she had apparently been squeezing since they left the school. Deep red lines crisscrossed her hands.

  “What did you mean? About the fire not being an accident I mean? Did someone start it on purpose?”

  Claudia adjusted the mirror to glance back, “Arson officially, though I don’t expect any arrests. These people don’t leave evidence. I -”

  “Why would someone do this? We never did anything to anybody.” It came out a little squeakier than Claire had intended.

  “This is a lot to dump on you. I know that. But you are strong, ok? You don’t deserve any of this, but sometimes we have to get through the bad times as best as we can.”

  Every emotion roiled in Claire, some heating and rising briefly to the surface before washing out in another and another, anger seemed to be subsiding for the moment. It wasn’t just a fire, someone did this. On purpose. To her. It felt like a story, like this was all happening to someone else a million miles away. That poor girl.

  “What did we do?”

  “Nothing, dear. You didn’t do anything wrong. They - they are afraid of you. They fear what they don’t understand.” Claire pressed her face against the window in defeat. None of this made sense. The car drove through parts of town Claire had never seen and into a neighborhood she didn’t recognise. One thing was evident, the people here lived differently. The smallest house could easily wrap around her house and yard. Even though what was left of her house could probably fit in the back of a truck.

  The car stopped in front of a large house by Claire’s standards. It actually reminded her a little of the dollhouse her mother got her for her birthday. There were two turrets with pointed tops and little windows, a small balcony sat between them. The porch held two white pillars supporting the balcony that matched the white washed brick house behind.

  “Is this your house?” Claire looked along the iron fence at the yard big enough to be a small park. Beyond the iron fence lay a well manicured lawn punctuated by several paver stones leading to and around the house.

  “It is. Come on, I’ll make you some tea.” Command never left her voice, there was always the slight feeling of expectation in her tone that felt noticeable but also irresistible. The two walked up to the gate, Claudia pushed the door open without stopping to unlock it. Claire had expected the inside to match the grandeur of the exterior, but had to take a second to let the emptiness wash over her. The front door opened into what should be a living room - but given the grand wide open space and hardwood floors it looked more like a ballroom. The only piece of furniture was a large recliner under a green glass lamp; there was no TV - not even a couch. The ballroom effect settled even more once Claudia turned on the lights, revealing a gleaming chandelier above.

  Claudia strode purposefully deeper into the house around the back corner of the ballroom disappearing from view, presumably to make tea by the sound of the racket that soon emanated from her direction. Claire wandered around, looking for anything interesting. The dining room, if you could call it that, had a small round table big enough for two and was accompanied by only two chairs - one of which held a stack of papers and books. Claire looked around the corner and confirmed her suspicions, the kitchen too looked spotless, not a speck or pan out of place.

  “There’s a room for you upstairs if you want to look at it, I have some things arriving for you soon.” Water heated on the flames of the stove and part of Claire was surprised that it actually worked, part of her had suspected everything to be for show. She said nothing, but gently wandered back to the ballroom, having seen the stairs leading up. The staircase wound along the right side with a dark wooden banister that would make for an amazing grand entrance if given the opportunity.

  Claire looked down the second floor hallway at the myriad of doors, the first two opened into bedrooms to the left and right. The right bedroom barely had enough room for her to squeeze through, it was completely full of neatly stacked banker boxes of files. Claire surgically removed the lid to one of them, flipping through the possibly hundreds of thin amanilla folders. Each folder had a few pages of handwritten notes referring to plaintiffs, defendants, evidence or witnesses. There was no mention of names or exact details, most of it written in some kind of shorthand that enigmatically hid the rest of the meaning.

  Replacing the notes exactly as she found them and the lid exactly as it was, she continued her snooping to another box deeper into the room. This one contained ledgers full of item numbers, names and dates. At first blush Claire guessed it might be an evidence record - having never seen one she couldn’t be sure. It didn’t seem, what was the word, official enough for that. Each page had one item number and several names presumedly checking the thing in or out; nothing described what the item actually was or what case it pertained to.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Surrendering, but not totally satisfied, she replaced the ledgers and moved to the bedroom across the hall. It was empty but did have a low bench in the turret looking out the window onto the lawn. Climbing onto the bench curling up against the quarter round window of the turret did make her feel like a princess. Tucking her feet tightly against her body, she took a few moments to breath, taking some solace in the near swaddled feeling.

  Something had been nagging at the back of her mind, a thought that wanted desperately to exist, she didn’t want to deal with it, so for now it would have to languish in the mental prison carefully constructed just for it. From the sounds of things this empty room would be her home, at least temporarily. Would her parents stay here too? She could sleep on the floor to make room, if they managed to get a bed - maybe they would all have to sleep on the floor?

  The red hardwood floors married neatly to the redwood trim and white walls. Claire slid her finger along the trim lazily at first then realized no dust came off. There must be a maid and with a house like this where was the chef? The butler? Colonel Mustard with the candle stick … Claire thought of playing clue, dad always played the same character. The thought couldn’t be allowed to come through, so she instead hopped down from the bench and continued distracting herself through the hallway, dragging her fingers across the lacy french doors opening to the balcony between the turrets. The last bedroom contained the other turret but took up twice the space as the other room.

  Presumably Claudia’s, it felt different than the rest of the house - a little more lived in. The king size bed sat on a mahogany frame, the dresser adorned with neatly organized jewelry, and a closet with mostly colorless clothes. What drew Claire in was the multitude of pictures on the walls, all of them framed in simple black. Many of the pictures showed two women squeezed together smiling in front of famous landmarks or places. Some, like the Eiffel tower, Claire recognised, but many she didn’t. It was hard to tell, but it looked like one of the women might be the judge downstairs, though many years younger. She had the same high cheekbones, the same sort of squareish face.

  Claire studied the faces in the pictures before giving up and moving on to the others. The subjects in these stood in dark robes with a serious expression on their face, they were all adults and some were much older. They looked too old to be college graduations - maybe they were lawyers or fellow judges? The master bath didn’t hold anything interesting as Claire poked her face in to examine it, she had almost finished her round when something caught her eye.

  A large folio sized leather book filled the space between the bed and dresser. Claire pulled it out, hefting it onto the bed with a soft plop. The book was almost two inches thick making it by far the heaviest book Claire had ever seen. The title was written in a language she had never seen, the letters of which looked like a combination of sticks and vines that curled about each other. Being in a language she had never seen, of course it looked strange - but there was something else about it. The letters themselves looked like two different styles with part being very rigid and almost runic while the rest of it flourished in swirls and curves.

  Under the title was something familiar, Claire felt the six pointed star’s crisscrossing lines. The sharp points made it look dangerous - just like the skylight in the church on the hill. She had never put much thought into what it was or what it meant - if anything. It looked beautiful in its own way, the symmetry of it, she supposed. The star could be made with one continuous motion like a pentagram, but with the extra point that would make it - a hexagram, she guessed.

  She opened the book, looking over the first few pages. It looked like a family tree but with only family names, Storikson, Morton, etc. all written in thin cursive English letters. Some of the names, unsurprisingly, had no leaves - they had no children, but Claire didn’t understand why some names appeared without root connections like they spontaneously entered from nowhere. Maybe parts were missing? And to further that thought, an entire half of the tree looked like it was missing right after one of the names… Claire scrunched her nose reading the name just above the missing section, Moses.

  “I see you found that.” Claudia called from the doorframe, sending a caught with your hand in the cookie jar feeling through Claire’s spine.

  “I was just-” Claire started to apologize.

  “It’s ok, I was going to show it to you anyway. It’s our family history.” Our? Claire scanned the page looking for Montblanc.

  “You won’t be in there yet,” Claudia said, seemingly reading Claire’s mind. She took a seat on the bed, angling the book between them so they could both see.

  “I do need to talk to you about this. It could probably have waited, but since you already found it. The people who attacked your house. They are a radical group of my family that believe only in chaos and destroying the world around them.” Claudia punctuated her words, as if choosing them very carefully.

  “They were followers of Samuel Moses - the cult leader?” Claire tapped his name.

  “Ha,” Claudia half snorted, “yes, and no. He had a more … unified vision of his people, but some of us couldn’t tolerate the other. It got bad enough that we started spilling each other’s blood trying to stop the other, the Mehela we call it - it’s like a feud.” What had she said her last name was? Claire looked over the tree for a Volf, but realized Wolfe was what she was looking for once she spotted it.

  “That’s you?” The name wasn’t far under Moses, that couldn’t be right.

  “No - well yes, that’s my family name, that was my -” Claudia squinted up as she calculated, “great-great-great-grandfather? I might be missing a great in there.”

  “What does this have to do with me?”

  Well, these people are part of a peceto- which is like a group of families or some would call it a coven, or collective - they believe you are dangerous to them. They are afraid of you, of what you can do.” Claire opened her mouth, not sure of which question to ask first, but stopped short as the woman flipped the book almost to the end revealing a familiar blue figure. The same blue oceany look, but with more detail that stained glass couldn’t afford. It was her. Claire touched the stick and vine letters, still unable to read them, but she knew what it said.

  “You know? About her?” Claire didn’t look up, still engrossed in studying the details of the ocean queen.

  “Oh yes, but we can talk about her more later. I just wanted to show you that I understand what you are going through, that’s how I know I can help.”

  Wideeyed, Claire looked up.

  “Well, not exactly,” Claudia corrected, “I’ve never seen a songemulo myself - but I can appreciate the scariness of it all.” Claire caught sight of a moving van parking outside.

  “I - what language is that? And what’s a song muldo or whatever you said. How do you -” Claudia stood, raising her hand to stop the conversation.

  “A songmulo is a dream mule, someone who can see into the place of things to be and of the times past. You have been chosen by her,” Claudia pointed at the blue figure, “chosen for some purpose. There are those that would do anything to stop you from whatever that is - we - my family and I - will do everything we can to stop that. To protect you.” The doorbell rang with a harmony of chimes.

  “That’s your furniture.” Claudia stood precisely as the thought that, up to this point, had remained barred from the foreground started poking its thorny truth uncomfortably out.

  “I want to call my parents - I want to see them.” Claudia always looked so straight, so put together but in that fraction of a second there was a kind of uncertainty or maybe a pang of sorrow, it said everything that needed to be said in a way that words never could.

  “Sweety, I was hoping to tell you tomorrow. Give you some time to adjust a little.” No - She didn’t want to hear it, she didn’t even want to ask.

  “But, it looks like they were brought or maybe lured home before the fire. We think they were - we think they were protecting you, Claire. I’m really sorry.” The words fell through the air like a shroud. She had just seen them this morning, heard their voices. She had just seen them… It didn’t feel real that they could just be gone like that. She wanted to feel sadness, and maybe it was there somewhere under the numb. Claire stood, realizing Claudia had left and movers were busying themselves in the empty room.

  The room had already begun its transformation from an empty room into a child’s bedroom. A pink and white bed sat in the corner with floral sheets and blanket folded neatly on top, clothes filled much of the closet racks, even though they all looked like they still had tags on them and some were obviously too big or too small. Claire stepped aside as a man unloaded a dolly of shoe boxes next to her before rolling it back downstairs to fetch the next parcel.

  She watched them come and go from the floor, where she decided to lay and not get up. They had brought toiletries, clothes, books, notebooks, art supplies, of course the furniture and even a handful of toys including a stuffed donkey with a red bow. She didn’t want any of it really, though practicality would likely win out eventually. The shadow of the evening sun had already made it to the other side of her room as she lay sprawled on the floor thinking of what choices she actually had. There was aunt Lilly - she could live with her, but that thought brought her back to this whole business with those people…

  Claudia had talked with her some more on this, about how while technically it was a choice, but not a good one. She could choose not to stay here, to live “in ignorance” as she had said, but how long would it be until they burned her aunt’s house? No, it had to be this way, really. She felt guilty acting so practically in the face of everything that had happened, but what else could she do? Maybe all the love she had had already been stripped away leaving nothing behind.

  “Claire?” Claudia crept on the doorframe in the way that Claire already saw was her way.

  “Take as much time as you need, I just wanted to check on you.” Claire ignored Claudia’s intrusion, she had already told her that the official deadline for her answer was midnight, and that regardless of her choice she could stay here tonight and she would do her best to get her situated in the morning. This was just - impatience. Claire felt the edge of the black gown that had been laid out for her.

  There wasn’t enough information about what this would actually mean, but again - where else could she go?

  “Ms. Claudia?” Claire called after she had left her perch on the doorframe, still unsure exactly what to call her.

  “Yes dear?” She returned to her perch. Claire felt the feelings bubbling up and out of her eyes before anything else could.

  “I don’t want to do this, I just want to go home and I didn’t even get to say goodbye, all this - with everything you’re talking about - and the all that - I don’t want to know or learn -” gasps and snot punctuated the sentences, “I want to go home.” The full weight of the day finally crashing into her, twisted Claire into a knotted soggy mess on the floor.

  Claudia hesitated, but decided to move closer sitting next to her on the floor close enough to allow for comfort if it was wanted.

  “I was six when they came for us.” Claire untwisted enough to latch onto Claudia, burying her face in her black dress.

  “We were baking cookies, my mother and I, and my baby sister too actually. It had been such a good day, I remember, I think I was sick - I forget why, but I remember I got to stay home all day with mom and bake with her.” Claudia held the sobbing mess, reaching for comfort, but coming up a little empty.

  “Anyway, when my father barged in the room I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t understand it. I thought he was mad at me for something. They came, smashed our windows with bricks and started throwing flaming bottles inside. If my parents hadn’t acted so fast - I wouldn’t be here telling you about it now. I tell you that to tell you this. I know the fear and uncertainty you are feeling right now. What has happened to you is unthinkable. I - want to help you the way my parents helped me through that difficult time. Besides,” Claudia gently lifted Claire’s face up towards her own, “you can see them any time you want you know.”

  The sniffling stopped. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

  “I’ve also been thinking, I have been trying to rush you into an impossible decision, so I’ve decided to bend the rules this one time. You can stay here for as long as you like and I will - when you are ready - tell you anything you want to know. If god doesn’t will it, then may she strike me down.”

  Her strength and conviction were contagious. Claire didn’t say anything, choosing to let the warm embrace fill her.

  “Something else - this is for you. You shouldn’t technically have it yet, but I have to say that there are benefits to being in charge.” Claire opened her eyes, tilting her head sideways to see a pearl pendant dangling in front of her. The single pearl hung in a silver teardrop from a silver chain. As the pendant swung slightly the liquid inside the pearl moved side to side.

  “It’s mercury, so don’t break it. If you do decide to visit your parents in these dreams of yours, and need help with something just show that to me and tell me you need help.” The teardrop pearl was heavy in her hand as Claire took it to examine it closer. The pearl swirled with silver inside a murky white shell.

  “Thank you… for everything.” Claire managed, not sure what else to say. Where would she be without this woman? Claire didn’t realize how lucky she was until this moment. Tonight she would have a place to sleep, to eat, a place of not just safety but one of immense knowledge. She could have been on the street, or worse hunted to whoever started this. It couldn’t be explained but something told her that no one could touch her here. This was a … sacred place.

  She might have lost everything, but in the same span of time gained more than she ever thought she would have. Completely exhausted from the day, Claire found sleep easily. And pearl in hand, found her way into the dreamscape - revregno - as Claudia had told her. While she slept Claire visited her parents over and over, saying goodbye becoming easier with each visit.