“What are you doing?” I ask, grabbing his wrist.
Then unexpectedly he grabs my hand and slices my palm in the same way. It stings.
“Arek!” I pull my bloody hand away.
“Look!” He grabs my arm forcefully and presses his bleeding hand on top of mine, then he pulls my chin to look at him while blood drips on the white snow. “You’ve convinced yourself of who you are but the truth is here. It’s in your skin, your blood, your DNA. You were born to us again because there are things to do. It’s who you are, and you have to accept that.”
Just then he lifts his hand and shows me his healed skin, then just as quickly, he wipes the blood from my palm with his thumb to reveal the thin red line that is no longer an open wound on mine.
“This is not Epheme . . . it’s Velieri. It is not your choice. You are what your DNA says you are.”
I run my fingers along the skin.
Arek closes the distance between us and runs his hand along my cheek. “We can do this. We need to get our lives back. We have to try.”
\/\/\/
The moon is half the sky and a blue haze casts a glow over the unfamiliar body of water in front of me. Its smooth crystal top carries a reflection of the stars.
With every step, my bare feet sink deep into the marshy land. The quiet isn’t so quiet with crickets, frogs, and swaying reeds, until something small splashes in the empty water beside me. My pulse quickens when the water ripples.
Then just ten yards away the waist-high grass shakes like something is in it. It moves several feet forward, then several feet to the side, coming closer inch by inch. A strange white and rounded back—not much different than that of a whale—peeks out from over the spear-like tips of grass. Slowly it moves, slithering closer. I don’t want to wait to see what it is. And just like that I press my toes deep into the marsh and run. It gives chase—faster than expected. When the grass shortens, my eyes catch sight of it. Somehow the white body is shiny and dull at the same time. It is possibly a spider, but the size of a human. It runs harder and faster than I can.
“You can’t outrun it,” Geo yells from somewhere in the distance.
I trip over a root, take a tumble, and instantly feel the skin on my knees burn. Scrambling to my feet seems impossible on the uneven ground.
“You can’t, Willow!” Geo yells.
“Remy!” Arek yells at me from the trees beyond. They are Tracing the realm between my conscious and subconscious and once again, fear manifests into these creatures too horrible to understand. Yet I know they are going deep. Hard. Aggressive. I turn back to the creature, stand to my feet, close my eyes, and search for the rhythm. I speak fast, creating my own beat and tone, breaking theirs, saying whatever comes to mind. At first the Tracing is hard to hear because of the torment within me, so I break the fear down one at a time—the loneliness, the darkness, the unknown, their ability to hold strength and power over me.
“Keep going.” Geo’s voice is so close to me that I open my eyes. His handsome eyes stare into mine. This is the first time I have been able to see him. So, I keep at it, breaking the Trace. Geo and I stand together while the world around us changes from darkness to light until we are sitting in Kilon and Sassi’s home. For the first time the world is not spinning. I am not sick to my stomach. Rather everyone is looking at me with eyes the size of the moon in that strange world. They are all silent, while smiles form on their faces.
Geo shakes his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever been able to teach anyone that fast.”
Peter claps his hands together. “Welcome back, Remy.”
“Can you do it again?” Sassi asks.
I think for a moment. “Yeah, I think I can.”
Arek smiles at me from across the room.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Years ago, Ian and I fought for two weeks straight, cascading between forgiveness and anger quicker than flipping a coin. “You’re never there for me,” I had said, the pain of his retreat from uncomfortable situations manifesting into an inability to trust him. “It’s always about you . . . everything.” Even at that moment, my words had been lost on a man whose eyes were watching the television on the other side of the room, making sure that he didn’t miss the basketball game. Ultimately this had been the cause of our relationship’s demise—he could only think about himself.
I thought of the man who had angered me beyond anything I’d ever felt before and the look of his tortured body and face as Navin used him—the video of his torment spreading poison like kerosene on a fire. Was it to make a point?
“Yes.” Arek’s serious voice interrupts my thoughts as we sit in the back seat of the SUV. “It was meant for all of us.” He sees my inquisitive look. “I’ve spent my years studying you—don’t you think I should know your thoughts?” He looks away while I study his profile, perhaps trying to read him. Until finally his deep voice breaks my concentration, “You can try but it won’t get you very far.”
The cars turn up windy back roads of Nepal that are so steep I tighten my abs for leverage. Yet there seems to be no leveraging the bipolar weather outside. The sky is a solid layer of gray and the mist in the air is leaving droplets on the window that changes direction with the moving car; yet there are moments when the sun shines through.
“Will he know we’re here for him?” I ask.
“It’s possible.”
We stop at the side of a road where there is nothing but trees and a steep mountain on each side.
“We’re meeting here,” Kilon says from the passenger seat.
The mountains and long eternal road are quiet. I look around inquisitively, “Where?”
No one answers; rather, they each step from the car. The smell of pine sweeps up my nose, just as the frost bites, and needles pop and crackle beneath my boots. Then I hear the call, a whistle echoing through the trees, the reverberation telling us that it isn’t too far away.
Arek whistles back. “Let’s go,” he says as he hikes into the dense wood.
Then one by one the forest begins to move; beyond the sway of the branches or the sweeping motion of falling leaves, dark figures creep out of hiding, dressed for the cold as if they’ve been there for hours. Puffy jackets and fur-brimmed hoods can’t keep these new faces from turning red. The closest man—with ears that point at the top, his nose twisting a bit to the side like he’s been in too many fights, and his beard not quite growing in all the way—has an Irish accent to compliment his toothy smile. He wears very little clothing for how cold it is, but his slightly curly hair wraps thickly around the bottom of a ski cap. Arek smiles bigger than I’ve seen in some time, and his eyes relax in a way that only trust and friendship can exalt. He and this man clap hands and hug, then share breath by placing their foreheads together.
“It’s always you, Diem.” Arek taps Diem’s cheek with his palm.
“Aye, always. Don’t ever want to let my leader down.”
“Your leader?” Arek tests him.
“Leigh never was and never will be my leader, I can promise you that.” Diem notices me standing there and suddenly everything changes. It is like he’s seen a ghost. “As I live and breathe. I knew it was true, but it’s another thing to see for yourself.” Diem puts out his hand for me to take in a greeting. “Welcome back, Remy. We’ve all been waiting.” His hands are rough and scaly, and his grip is strong.
“It’s nice to meet you, Diem.”
