Finding Sky

‘I don’t need an excuse for chocolate.’ I sipped, glancing at him sideways. The front of his hair where it was not covered by his hat carried a few snowflakes. His eyes were cheerful today—the pale green-blue of the river shal ows in the sunshine. ‘And you, have you been sneaking some of the same chemicals?’

‘Hmm?’

‘’Cause you look happy.’

He laughed. ‘No, not chocolate, just you. That’s what being a soulfinder is al about—you’re my happiness shot.’

No, that wasn’t right: my parents proved that having a soulfinder spel ed destruction. I was pretending to Zed that everything was OK but I just couldn’t do it—couldn’t take the risk. That crushing realization made me feel as if I’d just skied off a cliff and was stil in freefal . How was I going to tel Zed—

and his family—that after seeing what had happened to my mum and dad, I couldn’t be what they expected? When I landed with that news, everything was going to turn real y ugly. Zed was going to hate me—and I already hated myself.

I was so scared.

With that hanging over me, the Benedicts chose that evening to begin preparing their house for Christmas. I felt like the Judas at the feast. Saul and Trace disappeared up into the attic and emerged with boxes upon boxes of decorations.

‘You take this seriously, don’t you?’ I marvel ed, fingering a beautiful glass bauble with a golden angel suspended inside. That was me—trapped in a bubble of panic, unable to break free.

‘Of course, Sky,’ said Karla. ‘We col ect as we travel. My family in the Savant Net, they send me special decorations to add to it each year. It would be an insult to the giver if we did not use them.’

Zed, standing behind his mother, rol ed his eyes.

‘Mom doesn’t think one decoration enough when ten wil do. You’l think you’re standing in the Christmas department of Macy’s by the time we finish.’

No inflatable Santas for the Benedicts. Every artefact was exquisitely handmade and unique. I found a carved nativity set from South America, a string of icicle lights from Canada, and Venetian glass baubles. Part of me craved to belong to this wider family of people with the same kind of gifts, but I didn’t deserve to, not when I rejected their ways. I was going to have to say something and soon—it wasn’t fair to let them al treat me like one of them when I’d already made my decision to cut myself off from that future. But as each moment ticked by, I couldn’t find the courage to speak.

The ‘boys’, as Karla termed her menfolk, hauled back a fir tree cut from the family plot. It was twice my height and fil ed the family room to the ceiling.

After the customary swearing over faulty bulbs and missing extension cords, Saul and Victor wrapped it in lights. The younger members of the family got to put on the decorations, Zed lifting me up on his back so I could put my choices on the higher branches.

Karla recounted a tale for each one, either something about the person who gave it to her or about the place she had bought it. I got an impression of a huge extended family from here to Argentina with far flung branches in Asia and Europe. It made my own family of three seem very smal .

‘Now we have the carols!’ declared Karla, returning with a tray of mul ed wine, more hot chocolate for me, and sweet ci

Trace pretended to groan and complain. From the amused lights that shone around him, I guessed he was merely fulfil ing his expected role as family musical failure. I settled back on a beanbag, keeping out of the way with my guilty conscience for company, and watched Saul tune up his fiddle, Zed get out his guitar, and Uriel assemble his flute. They played a selection of traditional carols beautiful y, some of the tunes so haunting I felt I was transported back in time to when these were first sung. It was only then that I realized Uriel was glowing gently with a bronze light. He was not only playing tunes from the past, I could see that he was partly there.

‘We need a vocalist,’ Uriel a

Everyone laughed.

‘Sure, if you want to spoil the moment,’ he said, half getting up before Wil wrestled him back down.

‘Sky?’ suggested Yves.

I shook my head. ‘I don’t sing.’

‘You’re real y musical—I’ve played with you, remember,’ he coaxed.

A flutter of panic made me want to hide. ‘I don’t sing.’

Uriel closed his eyes for a moment. ‘You did.’

‘Not any more.’

‘Why not, Sky?’ asked Zed softly. ‘That’s behind you now. You’ve looked at the memories and can put them away. Today’s a new start.’

Just not the start he was expecting. Oh God, help me.

Karla passed around the plate of biscuits, trying to break the tension. ‘Leave the poor girl alone, you three. No one has to sing if they don’t want to.’

But I did. Underneath the alarm, I knew that as a musician I would love to sing, use my voice as another instrument.

‘Come on, I’l sing with you.’ Zed held out his hand.

‘We’l al sing,’ suggested Uriel. ‘ "Joy to the World"?’

‘I’l play my sax,’ I prevaricated. My mum had dropped it by earlier, knowing I needed music as a comfort when I was distressed.

The Benedicts then proved they not only sang but they harmonized as wel as any choir I’d heard. Even Trace ventured a few bass notes without disgracing himself.

At the end, Zed gave me a hug. ‘You’ve a great touch on the sax. You know it’s the closest instrument to a human voice.’

I nodded. My tenor sax had been a way of singing without it actual y being me. It might be close but I sensed it wasn’t quite enough for Zed. He wanted everything and knew I was holding back.

Zed gave up his bedroom to me that night to bunk with Xav. Despite my anxious state of mind, I was so mental y exhausted, I managed to sleep, the first real y unbroken rest I’d had since my kidnapping. I woke the next morning to find my mind had been working in the night to sort itself out like a computer going through a defragging process. Having stumbled past my early memories, I remembered everything about Las Vegas. Kel y had taken me apart bit by bit. He’d made me think such terrible things about Zed and Xav, sprayed his graffiti al over my mind—I hated him for that. But now I was back in charge; I could tel truth from falsehood and that was worth celebrating at least. Desperate to share the discovery, I rushed to find Zed.

‘Hey!’ I burst into Xav’s room which was next door.

Zed was stil zipped up in a cocoon of a sleeping bag on the floor, Xav sprawled on the bed, mouth open, snoring. ‘Zed!’

‘W-what?’ He scrambled out and grabbed me close, assuming we had to be under attack. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I know who took me! I remember it al .’

Xav tumbled out of bed. ‘Sky? Wha’s’matter?’

I suddenly became conscious that I was standing there in nothing more than a long T-shirt and knickers. I should have stopped to put on more clothes.

‘Um, can you get Trace and Victor, Zed?’ I asked, edging back. ‘I’ve got something to tel them.’

Zed had had time to surface from sleep. He gri

I told them what I remembered over a cup of tea—

my English drinking habits surfacing when I felt most uncomfortable. The memories were frightening: the hotel, Daniel Kel y forcing images into my head, the son circling me like a blubbery great white shark.

Victor recorded what I said, nodding as if I was confirming things he had suspected.

‘Another family of savants outside the Net,’ mused Saul when I’d finished. ‘Ones with no soulfinders to add balance. And they had O’Hal oran on the payrol .

Sounds to me that there’s more out there than we thought.’