“Navin—look at me, look at me.” He finally looks me in the eyes. “How can you know if any of this is true?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” He is more in control than I expect. My arms and legs become unnaturally heavy.
“Navin,” I plead.
A knock sounds on the door.
“What?!” Navin exclaims, his face contorting with irritation.
“They’re here,” one of his men yells.
“Who?”
“Arek and Kilon! They’re here, sir!” the man insists.
Navin races to the door, unlocking it with a fast twist, but before he can open it the door bursts open, sending Navin across the floor. The throw rug is now beneath the bed.
Arek rushes in.
Navin is on his feet in seconds. Instantly their arms move faster than I can follow. Brothers in blood, yet enemies at their core, while each movement seems implausible and confident. It is unbelievable, really, how they strike each other in perfect synchronization. Arek grabs a pair of scissors nearby and uses them to slice Navin’s hand, cheek, and thigh just above the knee. Navin fights back with his knife catching Arek above the brow. Yet soon it is clear that although they are similar in size and strength, it is Arek’s skill that overwhelms Navin’s.
It isn’t until one of Navin’s men emerges from a separate door just beside the bed and holds a gun to my head that Arek backs off—left with no choice.
Arek drops the scissors.
“Take her!” Navin yells.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The guard takes me from the room, and we come upon a winding set of stairs that continues for longer than the eye can see. Nearly three flights down with an iron railing of floral design.
Something about the salty air and the view out the windows makes it feel tropical. The guard doesn’t seem to know what to do as he leads me to the edge.
Security bars are on every window. How will I get out? Yet, I don’t need to worry. Arek’s here, somewhere.
“I’ve got her,” an old man’s voice seems to surf the stairs all the way down. “Go help Navin, I’ll take her,” Japha says to the guard from behind me. His white sweaty hair and gray eyes dig into mine, telling me of the long history that I have yet to remember between us. Then the flash happens, faster than lightning, a tempestuous vision.
I am a child sitting in a cavernous room, beguiled with books and a large fireplace that reminds me of a face, with the heavy aroma of musky wood that fills my nose. Japha stands across from me. His hair is a salt and pepper instead of white, and his fingers, although still arthritic, are straighter than the present.
“Just remember what the Ephemes have taken from us,” he says, coming closer with each slow word. Even then, at only eight years old, there is an awareness that when I am with Japha I am not alone within my thoughts and feel an obsessive need to protect myself. Japha—a representative of the Powers at the time—is revered and loved for his power and his longevity, yet even then he scares me. The man is conniving and powerful, which makes it nearly impossible to figure out his next move. It is no different than the snakes in the field that make no sound until the bite sends poisonous venom up your leg.
Instantly as the visions quickly progress, the truth is alive between us, the memories passing back and forth, and he sees my sudden understanding.
I whisper, “You forced me to be alone with you for hours to convince me Ephemes deserve to die and fed me lies for so long. Did my father know what you were doing all those years?”
“Nothing helps you own the future more than controlling a child. Your father had no idea. He was blind to Lyneva’s intent.” His grizzled and shaky voice gives no indication of care.
His words hit me harder than a bullet, infiltrating my memory with years of his torment. Even in my Epheme life, Japha had made his imprint on me enough to breach my sleep.
Japha chuckles, “You were so convinced that the night Lyneva was killed was part of the Prophecy. If I had more time before Briston hired Kilon and Sassi to protect you day and night . . .” He then turns serious with irritation, “but I had done enough. Your subconscious was formed. And you died because you so blindly believed your mother wouldn’t hurt you. Even when she spent years hating you.”
Then something occurs to me, “Yet, you never knew I would come back?” I watch his eyes for his tell at our poker table. A grin spreads across my face, “You hoped I wouldn’t come back, but I ruined it for you and Lyneva. You had hoped the Prophecy to die with me.”
“Navin is convinced that your child would bring everyone to their knees and give him power, but Lyneva and I both knew the Prophecy was declared by men. There’s no truth to it.”
He forces me to walk down the stairs with a nudge to my back.
I continue, “How many of your loyal rebels did you lose because I came back? Suddenly there’s the possibility again that there might just be some truth to The One?”
Again, he says nothing, yet his teeth crack together from tension.
“What do you tell them now?”
With fast hands he pushes me forward. Instinctively my arms reach for him, but he pulls away. The first strike against the floor is the worst, my body wrenches together like an accordion from my neck to my feet. Then the beating continues as my bones crack all the way down the winding staircase. He hopes to render me useless.
In only moments, Japha meets me at the cement footing at the bottom of the stairs and begins to drag my body across the tile floor, until I am finally able to claw my way to standing. The house appears to be under combat as dust still hangs in the air and men lie lifeless all around.
His eyes cast about trying to figure out the next step and where we will go when clearly there isn’t safety within this house.
Two large double doors at the end of the hall call to him. He throws them open and pulls me inside. Instantly he freezes.
Kilon, Sassi, Kenichi, and Briston stand with their guns pointed in our direction. I let out a shaky breath. Each one of them is dressed in heavy SWAT gear, sweaty and bloody.
Japha yanks me in front of him.
Sassi’s eyes meet mine and nods just slightly while Kilon’s never look away from Japha. His hate is resounding even in silence. Their guns are chambered and ready. The smell of gun powder is already pungent and now so is Japha’s sweat and heavy breath.
We back away as they take small steps forward.
