“Thank you.” Babel said, accepting the item. “How do I use it?”
“It’s always on. You just have to keep it on you. Your energy will fuel the device.”
Babel and Quentin spoke for a while more before returning upstairs. Then, Quentin closed the panel in the floor and they exited the study.
In the living room, Babel found Triana waiting for him. “Are you ready to go?”
Babel realized how tired he was. They had been at her family’s house most of the day. The sun was beginning to get low in the sky and Babel knew they had to be back to her apartment before dark. “I’m ready.” He thanked Abby for the dinner, said goodbye to Triana’s cousins, and without thinking about it, reached out and shook Quentin’s hand. Quentin clasped Babel’s hand and returned the gesture.
Babel gave one last wave to Quentin and Abby’s youngest daughter before the door closed and Babel and Triana were alone on the street. They walked in silence for several moments before Triana spoke. “Did you learn what you needed to from my uncle?”
Babel thought on her question for a moment before answering. “I did. He was very helpful.”
“I told you so.”
Babel looked at Triana and she gave a playful smile. Babel laughed. The conversation turned casual as they walked back to Triana’s apartment.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Babel woke up from a dream. The window along the ceiling showed it was still dark outside. He rolled over to check the time but as usual, the numbers did not make sense to him.
Now that he was awake, he couldn’t recall his dream. He had a feeling that there was something to the dream – something he needed to remember. But now that he was awake, it was almost as if his mind didn’t want him to remember. The dream floated at the edge of his memory, trying to push forward but his mind kept pushing the dream back. He continued this battle for a while before his mind won, pushing the dream from his thoughts.
The apartment was quiet. Outside there was no noise. He stared at the ceiling, listening to the quiet world before closing his eyes. He let his mind slip away and soon he was back asleep.
When he opened his eyes again, sunlight exuded through the window. He looked around. The room was still strange but he found he was becoming more comfortable with his father’s world.
He stretched and rose from the bed. After his shower, he went to say good morning to his host but found Triana was not up yet. He went to the kitchen and conjured a cup of coffee. From his place back on the couch, he looked over at the door to Triana’s room and noticed that her door was open. “Was it opened before or did I just not notice?” He didn’t hear her in the shower.
He set his coffee down and noticed a note on the corner of the table. It was from Triana. The note read that she had left early to go to the market to get some fresh fruit for breakfast. I know that the fridge can conjure fruit but it’s not the same as fresh grown, she wrote.
Coffee in hand, he leaned back into the couch to wait for her return. Two hours later, she still wasn’t back.
Babel wasn’t sure what to do. He expected that she would be gone for a reasonable time as she probably had other errands to run. An hour in, suspicion grew that something might have happened. Two hours turned that suspicion into concern. The only thing he could think to do was to leave a note in case she returned and go out looking for her.
He had only been in Orleans a short time and had not seen that much of the city outside of walking to Triana’s uncle’s house, but he had been to New Orleans. If the setup of the city was similar as it seemed on brief inspection, he could make his way around.
He started by heading towards the river (he guessed the city had a river) where the market was located in New Orleans. He found that Orleans had the same layout. He passed a large cathedral and a small park on his way to the riverfront and from there took a left towards the market. He passed an open plaza and smelled the fried dough and coffee from the restaurant there. He had eaten earlier but his stomach growled at the aroma.
The market gave no sign of Triana and he left to wander the streets of the Elder Quarter (which was eerily similar to the French Quarter). He searched the entire area twice with no success. Just to be sure, he stopped by her apartment once more and found it empty with no new note. He knew he couldn’t continue walking around the city aimlessly, so with few options, he headed west towards the Garden Quarter.
Thirty minutes later he was staring at the home of Triana’s uncle in disbelief. The front door was kicked in and several of the windows were broken inward, a sign that they had been shattered from the outside. Before he had time to consider the consequences, Babel ran
