Briston explains, “Remy’s death put a crack in that crystal-clear vision that the Prophets and the Powers have been creating for years. Their mantra has always been, soon. You will get peace . . . soon . . . but not now. They strung people along until you died. After your death people questioned everything they’d ever believed. It took years for the government to earn back people’s trust. This pushed a lot of good people to side with Navin.” Briston rubs his eyes with fatigue and concern. The chaos on every channel is just a tangible reality of a broken world.

As they talk a vision comes to me . . .

Remy, somewhere as a child, in a dark room, with a rotating metal clock that looks like a cross. There is a faceless man that makes her uncomfortable. Yet this changes after a moment and once again, I see it as if it is my own memory. I am the child and uncomfortable with the faceless man.

“Willow?” Briston asks. “Where’d you go?”

I realize Arek and Briston are both looking at me with concern. I answer, “Nowhere . . . sorry.”

Arek leans against a desk with his arms crossed, never looking at the monitors—maybe out of self-preservation or, now that I know him better, irritation that he can’t do anything to fix the problem. He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m pretty sure Navin never intended to have you arrested or killed.” Briston and I both look at him with surprise, so he continues, “I know my brother. He wanted you to join him. When I was a kid, he was nearly an adult and he spoke of this prophecy often. It was his quest to find The One and show them the truth.”

Briston shuffles in his chair, looking off into space, the wheels in his brain turning. “But Remy’s arrest and subsequent death—I mean, it did what he wanted. It caused riots to break out and people to lose trust in the Velieri government, which devastated the Powers for years. Trust me, Navin got everything he wanted from Remy being gone.”

Arek presses Briston with his eyes. “Did he? Sure, it caused some chaos, but did he get the power that he wanted? I grew up with him. He was a bully, yes . . . but he was also smart, which encouraged his delusions. Convincing himself that if he had the love of The One,” Arek looks directly at me, “that Power could signify that the Prophecy really is his for the taking. We’re not talking about a rational person here. We’re talking about a person who is delusional: if he can steal it, it’s his. If he simply says something, it’s truth.”

“Then why is he trying to kill me?”

“Is he?” Arek asks. “I know that he wants to get to you first. I just wish I knew why.”

Several channels, displayed behind Briston, show rioting through the streets of downtown Los Angeles. However, as I look closer, they give completely opposing views of what is happening. I have never seen the logo for several of these Velieri channels. Fox News gives a story about terrorists attacking outside of Biddy Mason Park, while the Velieri newscasters give an account of the same attack as though the rebellion is creating more destruction.

Briston hands Arek a piece of paper to read and he does.

“He can’t be serious.” Arek shakes his head.

“Is your father ever anything but serious? This,” Briston says as he points at the TVs, “tells Leigh that he needs to eliminate the cause as soon as possible.”

I am starting to understand . . . finally. “I’m the cause.”

“You’re causing problems in my father’s black and white world. Someone’s probably pressuring him to get you out of sight and out of mind.”

Briston stands up. “I’ve brokered a deal with him. He’ll meet us at his place.”

The discomfort of this idea pulls Arek’s shoulders to his ears. “No. Not until I can figure out how to fix this. They gave us time. They can’t take that away.”

My father places a hand on my elbow as he passes by to grab his ringing phone. “They can and they will.”

Silence looms and no amount of it seems to change Arek’s mind as Briston answers the phone.

I conjure up the nerve to break the tension. “The Prophets want me in the Cellar, yet they believe in the Prophecy?”

“Some believe in the Prophecy, but not everyone believes you are The One.” Arek nods, “The Prophets and Powers are divided. Look, people in this world see what they want to see. Our minds can convince us of anything. If this Prophecy is real and one day there will be peace between the Velieri and Ephemes, that poses a threat to the most powerful players. They no longer make money off of us. But also the hate runs deep in many people. What the Ephemes have done to us for years, some find unforgivable.”

Briston comes back from his phone call so I speak directly to him. “One of my memories is when I was a child—you and I ran in to my mother. She was with Japha.”

Briston’s ice-blue eyes share regret. “She was trying to get through to him.”

Arek looks at Briston carefully, “You believe that?”

“I have no reason not to. She was always a good woman and a strong advocate for what was right.”

“I did it. I killed her,” I whisper.

Both men look at me with concern.

“I’ll go to the Powers, to Leigh . . . whatever needs to happen. I don’t care. I want to do what’s right.”

Briston, with a calm that reveals his true nature, says, “How can anyone do what’s right when the world’s lines have been blurred?”

“Let’s go to Leigh. Let’s end this,” I state.

“He’s in Switzerland.”

“That’s fine. Whatever it takes. I don’t want to run anymore.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The next day, one switchback to another, the car remains frigid and quiet as Sassi takes the winding road of the Alps at a quick speed. My toes are frozen beneath the black boots and heavy jeans, so I shift uncomfortably back and forth in my seat. Puffs of white air float from my mouth with every breath as Kilon opens the window for just a moment to keep the car from fogging up; the smell of clean air and pine fills my nose.

Coming back to the place this entire journey started gives me the feeling that we have made no progress and never will. The calm voice of a Velieri podcaster fills the car, her subtle tone strangely unnerving, “I’ve never seen anything like this and although my grandmother always warned of it, it’s quite possible that I chalked it up to an embellished rumor. Yet, here we are, the world closer to implosion than I’ve ever seen. Ephemes are closer to finding out about the Hidden than ever before. The Reds, the CTA, the Powers, and the Protectors have more fires than they can put out all because of the rumor that ‘she’s’ returned. Yet nowadays how do we ever know what is rumor and what is truth?”

Kilon swiftly presses the off button, catching sight of me in his peripheral vision, and we are in sudden silence.

“Who are the Reds?” I ask.

Arek looks up from his phone. “A group of Ephemes sworn to protect the concealment of the Velieri.”

That is all he’ll say. The tension is palpable as we make our way back to battle with Leigh, while Navin and Japha wreak havoc.

“Why do you always drive?” I ask Sassi, trying to change the mood.

“It’s what I do well.” She smiles in her rearview mirror.

“Why?”

“Because I know what the other drivers are thinking. By their body language and movement, I can read them. My father, who wished to be a racecar driver well into his 2000s, taught me to be one with the car and immediately took notice of my skill.”

Arek’s rough voice fills the car, “She could have been a Protector.”

Sassi smiles. “I could have, but it seems you need particular heredity to be in that group: power and politics.”

Arek smiles. “Unfortunately, that has been the case.”

I am curious. “So, can others be just as good as you even if they don’t come from your line?”

“Maybe,” Arek admits.

Kilon speaks up, “It doesn’t happen very often. Maybe if we were able to mix lines, we’d see people begin to have more abilities that expand beyond their own.”