A Chance Encounter

By Thio Isobel Moss

April 6th, 2012: San Francisco, CA

She’d chosen the wrong day to go to the park.

It felt like the sky was melting on her face — only it was cold, the sky and the ocean were a uniform gray-white, and the air smelled of drowning earthworms. Why did they make so many rain-scented products? Only twice in her memory had rain actually smelled pleasant.

Kuwako sighed and sipped her coffee, its heat doing little to warm her.

The rain wasn’t the problem.

She didn’t want to return to Dublin. She was afraid. But her familiar, Kenny, would never let fear stand in the way of doing what was right. That attitude was going to get her killed.

The Semantics of Control: Rhetoric and Power in the Construct of the Warped.

It was a mouthful, and a landmine. Kenny’s advisor had reported it to the Coimisiún um Rialáil Draíochta — The Commission for the Regulation of Magic — before the ink on the master’s thesis was even dry. The CRD would review every study, censure every word, and monitor all interviews — supposing anyone would agree to an interview under those conditions. There was a high likelihood that a warlock was already assigned to her.

Even if Kenny caved — submitted to the approved terminology, went along with the prevailing narrative, and toed every line — she would forever be on a watch-list. One day, there would be a knock on her door, and Kenny would be exiled to Sanctuary or some other prison city, if not executed on the spot.

Kuwako couldn’t let that happen. But she didn’t know how to stop it.

She glanced around at the other waterlogged visitors, hoping for inspiration. They would only be in San Francisco for two more days. They would fly back to Kansas City and visit Kenny’s mom — another two days — before flying back to Dublin.

Four days.

Kuwako realized she was staring…and there was something wrong with the man she was staring at. He was too still and didn’t react at all when it thundered. Her instinct was to leave, but he wasn’t facing her. His bench faced north; hers faced west. He wasn’t dressed for the weather — shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, of all things.

Right. Kuwako gathered her things and turned toward the parking lot. She took two steps before she wheeled back around and marched toward the mystery man.

“Are you following me?” she demanded, anger filling the space where fear should be.

The man, a charming fellow with a crop of ebony curls, didn’t respond. He stared straight through her as though he didn’t see her. She stepped closer and peered into his eyes — a bright blue vacuum. He wasn’t seeing her; he wasn’t seeing anything. Or rather, he was seeing something, just in another place and time. The man was deep in the throes of a vision. What were the chances of stumbling upon a seer when Kenny was in danger?

A seer might be able to help.

But almost all seers belonged to the Union of Seers…which was funded by the Quorum, the Community’s ruling body, stateside. There was a strong possibility that he was there for the very reasons she feared.

Debating the issue wasn’t helping. She needed information.

“I am so sorry about this,” she murmured, fishing in the man’s pocket until she found a wallet.

“Darragh…O’Brien. The Chairman of the Union of Seers. Maybe I’m being modest, but somehow, I don’t think we rank that high,” she grumbled. “What are you doing here?”

She needed to leave, disappear, let him be someone else’s problem.

If Kenny wasn’t on his radar, she couldn’t risk putting her there.

Doubt crept in. This couldn’t be a chance encounter. Chance had just forced a vision on him at the critical moment — gifted her an opportunity. Let him drown in the rain! It wasn’t her concern. She had a plan to formulate and a thesis to sabotage. She was leaving!

But she couldn’t.

Golden Gate Park was generally safe enough, but the evening was only a few short hours away. Visions could go on for a long time. He was absolutely vulnerable and would need water and food when he came out of it. No doubt, he was already cold.

“Okay… Here’s what we’re going to do: you’re going to hold this,” she said, activating a precast spell and wrapping his hand around it. “That’ll keep you warm. I’m going to go over there to the hot dog stand and get us some rations. I won’t be out of sight. It won’t take long. Just…be safe, okay?”

It didn’t take long. The weather kept the line short, and she watched the seer the entire time.

“I wasn’t sure what you would like, so I got a few options — regular hot dog, polish sausage, and a chicken and apple sausage. I’m sorry…I didn’t even consider whether you’re a vegetarian. At least there are some chips. And I have an apple in my bag. I also got a few bottles of water for each of us, since I don’t know how long we will be here.”

She ate her spicy link and read a book about a murderous robot on her phone. Her mind absorbed, she didn’t notice the falling temperatures or that she had cuddled up to the Chairman until the fog broke through the literary haze. The sky really had melted and was creeping in from the shore, swallowing everything in its path.

“Oh! I’m sorry. Again. I promise I don’t usually cuddle up to strangers,” she murmured, looking around. Though it wasn’t quite dark, the park appeared nearly abandoned. And eerie in the fog. “Um…if you could snap out of it, I would really appreciate it. I can defend us if I have to, but I’d much rather not have to.”

The seer failed to reply but continued staring out at nothing.

“The park’s not the only thing that’s eerie,” she said under her breath. “I probably should keep my wits about me. Right. No reading. Phone away. Well…shall I tell you stories from my childhood? Rural Japan in the 1760s is always a crowd-pleaser.”

She got nothing.

“1760s it is,” she decided, thinking she could at least keep herself company — and it wasn’t until recent years that anything in her history became…controversial. “Well, life for me began in a hole in the ground — a dug out under a tree. It wasn’t much, but it was home.”

She told story after story, wondering what she would do if he hadn’t snapped out of it by the time the park closed.

“Yamamoto Yaeko had a wonderful sense of humor. Once, when her husband was…”

The seer made a rough, snorting sound and began falling forward.

“No, you don’t. I’ve invested too much time in this little adventure for you to hurt yourself now.”

Darragh O’Brien started at her voice and sprang to his feet, peering into the cloudy darkness in one direction before spinning in another.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he wildly exclaimed, tearing at his pretty hair. “Think, Darragh. There’s got to be something!”

“Uh…if you’re all set here, I’ll just be on my way.” He jumped at her words, whirling to stare at her in something approaching awe. “There's some food and a couple bottles of water in the bag.”

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed, looking like he might faint with relief.

“Yeah…I thought you’d be hungry… What are you doing?”

The madman seized her hands and pulled her over to the bench.

“Kuwako Yamane, I don’t know the details, but Kenny Jones is in danger.”

His fervor only grew as she shook her head in denial. There was no way a thesis proposal in Ireland had come to the attention of the Chairman of the Union of Seers in the United States. That was crazy! He gave her a shake, metaphorically pulling her head out of the sand.

“She cannot go back to Dublin.” His eyes burned with manic conviction. “If she does, she will die.”

Kuwako wanted to whimper, sob, throw herself on the ground and scream. But she had to think. She had to understand.

“How,” she whispered. “Why?”

“Please believe me. Please! I don’t know how — it could happen a thousand different ways — but we both know why. They aren’t going to wait to see if she wises up.”

Kuwako started trembling and shaking her head.

“She won’t listen to me. I’ve begged. I swear I have, but…she says it’s the right thing to do. She won’t—”

O’Brien nodded, his urgency bleeding into her. “She won’t listen, I know. You have to disappear. If you’re gone without a trace, it will shift her priorities. She will try to find you. It’s the only way.”

She stared into those brilliant blue eyes. He looked like a phantom under the white streetlights.  Ghostly and terribly earnest…and, despite herself, found herself nodding.

For a decade, they had been inseparable. Kenny would do anything for her. That was the lever she needed to use.

“You’re right. She won’t protect herself, but if she thinks I’m in danger… This will hurt her. Deeply.”

Her mind conjured up the lost little girl, hiding behind a storage shed, whittling a chain from a stick. Could she break Kenny’s heart all over again if it meant saving her life?

“But she’ll be alive. She’s important, Kuwako. She must stay alive.”

Yes. Yes, she could do it. Kenny was that important. Kenny was everything.

“Where should I go? How long? Should—”

Her voice cut off as his expression shifted into pleading regret.

“I don’t know how long it will take. I don’t see her path — only a few that intersect. I can take you to Chicago. We can make a plan there. Or, I’ll buy you passage through the Peregrine Gate. Anywhere.”

He continued to ramble, offering both practical and outlandish suggestions. It was clear that he had a plan, a good one, but he was too desperate to convince her to leave to steer her toward it. Kuwako, almost numb at first, suddenly smiled at him. It was madness…idiocy…but she trusted Darragh O’Brien. This was her solution. He was her solution.

Kenny would not go back to Dublin. Kenny would live.