“Safe house?” Kamboja echoes. “What safe house?” This is the first time most of us have heard of it.

“Areum.” Valentina raises an eyebrow.

“Follow me,” Areum says, and, choosing a branch of the Between, starts walking. Taraana takes one last look at the door leading to Marrakech before following her. Valentina leaves last.

Paheli: A Moment in Chartreuse

Bang, bang! How easily the chaos is curbed and the crowds quieted. People stop, one step away from a stampede. Too bad. Now I have to return to fear.

You learn fear all at once, you know. In less than one second, your body will understand all its shades and ken all its depths. Corners will become sinister and the sound of footsteps will become reasons to panic. Darkness will begin to mean more than just the absence of light. A half-second is all it takes to learn fear. But it will take you a lifetime to unlearn it.

Me? I am not there yet, and I have lived several lifetimes. Make of that what you will.

The girls are gone and with them, so is Taraana. I am left as the landmark of a disappeared quarry. I watch as our pursuers realize this fact. I could have gone with them. I should have gone with them. But see, there is this quality in me that makes me want to poke at a beehive. So that’s what I am going to do. Poke it. Because the fear that I struggle with is 50 percent anger. Anger that even so many years, centuries, later, I still can’t walk down a dark road alone without “asking for it.” Anger that my female body makes me available for consumption whether I consent to it or not. Anger that those with strength continuously try to use that strength against me. Angry. I am so angry.

I look around. The pursuers are whispering to each other, making sure to keep me in their sight. I pretend that I am not watching them watch me.

One of the pursuers, a not-human man with a beard red from henna, glances at me and then quickly away. I ignore the middle worlder for the moment and help the two human women whose trays of oranges we sacrificed. We pick up their now-trodden fruit. I press some money into their hands and watch the enemy numbers reduce to four as the rest of the men leave to presumably comb the square for the girls and Taraana, who are all hopefully on their way to our safe house.