We’ve got large patches on our backs that read ‘The Ciphers,’ and smaller ones ride our left biceps with a simple, matching C. From the glimpse of those he gathers we aren’t from around here.
“Who’re you?” he demands, not afraid.
There’s fight or flight.
This guy is the good kind.
“Your mother sent us.”
“Bullshit,” he mutters, about to close the door.
I put my boot on the doorjamb and block it. “Ask her. I’ll let this close and you can lock the door and go call her.”
“I don’t need to lock the door,” he grumbles, eyeing us. But he does shut it.
Soph says, “Interesting.”
“Yup,” I nod, holding her look. She keeps eye contact and for a second I forget about everything except her. Clearing my throat I force myself back to the door, don’t want to lose focus. We’re in uncharted territory, improvising as we go along. Our training didn’t include interviews of unwilling Cipher applicants.
Sean returns, light brown eyebrows tight. He eyes us in silence and opens the door. I walk in and give room for Sofia to enter the house behind me, putting me between her and him. He notes this and flicks a glance to her as she strolls in scanning the house.
“Go on ahead,” I say to him.
He’s curious now. Knows there’s a routine we have, that this entrance into a stranger’s home isn’t our first. So he walks ahead based only on the fact that his mother confirmed her approval of this visit. If we didn’t have that sanction, I know he’d fight me on this, because he keeps looking over his shoulder at me.
Good.
That’s the kind of caution he needs.
Shows he’s street smart.
Takes too long to teach something like that.
And the lessons would be painful.
The three of us arrive in a cozy living room with the kind of furniture you’d expect from a psychic who’s also a mother. Lots of light, overstuffed furniture, scarves over lampshades, framed photos of Sean growing up, some with her in them.
Four black cats lounge on a bench inside a bay window, enjoying the warm sun. Soph walks over and pets one. “Hello, darkness my old friend,” she whispers, quoting the old Simon and Garfunkel song that Melodi and Fuse love so much.
“Your mom tells us you’re looking for something you haven’t found yet,” I begin, standing across from him.
His back is to the red couch that separates the room. Behind him is a video game on pause. “Maybe.”
“You like shooting things?” I jog my chin to the screen.
“I’m not going to blow up anything if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Yeah, but do you want to, if it was for a good cause?”
His eyebrows twitch, but his guard stays put. “Read the patch when your girlfriend walked in. Ciphers, what’s that mean?”
We don’t correct him on the girlfriend thing—it’s not important now. Besides, people don’t get all the details until they’ve earned them.
“A way of changing a message to keep it secret,” Sofia says, walking to us.
He nods, crossing his arms. “You’re not so secret wearing that patch.”
“It sends a message,” she smirks.
“What we do is secret,” I tell him, scanning his muscles because they’re not indicative of a guy who sits on the couch all day long. “Where do you train?”
His chin motions to out back. “Here, on my own. Weights. Why?”
“Any martial arts?”
“No. But I’m interested. Go on.”
I explain in basic terms what we do, basic breakdown that he needs to know, repeating what I told his unusual mother. Sean has the same concentration she has, keen and unflinching until I finish.
He drops his hands and runs a hand through his hair, “Wow.”
Sofia and I exchange a look, and she offers, “Nobody’s joined our house in almost thirty years, when Luke’s mother married his father and he brought her home.”
“You’re Luke?”
“Yeah, and this is Sofia Sol.”
“Hi,” she smiles, tipping her chin up. “Pleasure.”
Sean blinks from her to me. “And they don’t know you’re asking me to join.”
“We’re not asking, we’re considering you. You’d have to meet our President—he’s the judge. And the others will have to vote on it. Including us.”
Soph nods like that’s probably how it would go down. “There’d be some tests. We’d have to see how you stood up under stress, but so far so good on that front, which is why this conversation has gotten as far as it has.”
“How do you mean?” he asks.
“We’ve been watching how you’re handling yourself with us.” She flicks a glance to me. “Luke and I are skilled at reading strangers in tense situations. This is tense.”
“No doubt,” he mutters.
She goes on to say, “There’s one crucial part of being a Cipher, Sean. You have to be trustworthy. We’re not perfect. We’re a bunch of animals, if we’re honest. But we’ve got rules, and we’ve got each other’s backs no matter what in any situation. It’s the club before the world, you understand? In the types of jobs we do, there’s no other way.”
I take over, explaining with gravity, “You’d be trained. You’d live with us. You’d leave your old life behind.”
“What about my mother?”
“She can visit, you can visit her. Sofia and I talked about that on the way over. She’s trustworthy. We just have to make sure she passed that down to you.”
“She did,” he firmly says, shoulders pushing back as he hooks his thumbs in his jeans pockets.
Sofia adds, “And you’ll have to lose the sneakers. They’re hideous.”
He glances down and the first smile he’s given us appears. It’s nothing like the one in his high school photo. “I could live with that. You guys want a beer or something?”
Sofia looks at me and I wait for her to decide. With an exhale she tells him, “Hate to
