Walk on Water

by September Thomas

  A true artifact, like the items left by my temple.

  “More than just any copy of The Word,” Finn said, pulling me from my reverie. I dropped the hand I hadn’t even known I was pressing to my mouth in wonder. “An original copy of The Word. What you’re holding right there, it’s priceless. Maybe only a dozen copies still exist. And most of those are incomplete or damaged in some way. In fact, the Order headquarters may be the only other place on Earth where something this pristine still exists.”

  “Where…”

  “These were copies only given to High Priestesses and Priests of the temples,” Finn continued. “Original copies. Copies outlining the true history of what happened between the Gods and humans, the true treaties forged between the two races, the true reasons for why humans stripped the Gods of their powers and why the Gods permitted them to do it.

  “These books are church secrets, only forged when the original Gods were still alive. After they passed, the Order designed new books and squirreled these ones away, forever tucked into long-forgotten alcoves, away from prying eyes and hands with torches. What you have there, Zara,” he tapped the cover with one long finger, “that’s the truth. It’s very important and very valuable.”

  The weight of his words was impossible to ignore. I looked down and smoothed my fingers over the pages once again.

  The truth.

  It was right here in front of me.

  In a language I couldn’t speak.

  A language I couldn’t read.

  Yet.

  “Where did you get this?” My words were barely a whisper.

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

  The package.

  The package we’d driven to the outskirts of Kansas City to acquire.

  But how he’d even known about it…

  He dipped his head as if he could read my thoughts.

  “But I can’t read it.”

  “I know. But someday you will.” Finn fist-bumped my arm, a vow of confidence.

  “Until then,” said Ryder, “I picked this up at your house. It was tucked under the glass plating of your coffee table.” He passed me a second copy, this one as boring as anything that rolled out of any mass-market publishing house. Nothing original or unique about it.

  “You need to read it. It might not be exactly what’s written in the real version, but it should have many similarities. You need to know your past because you need to know what the rest of the world knows and believes. You can’t be ignorant about yourself any longer. I took it to help you. They would have wanted you to have this.”

  I shook my head, chest quaking a bit as I breathed deep.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  Repeat.

  “You knew they were going to die.”

  Silence echoed loudly in the confines of the car. Then Ryder said, “Yes. And they knew it, too. But they needed to talk to you first. That’s the only reason they stayed. Zara, I’m so sorry. I know that doesn’t fix it or change anything but—” I waved a hand to silence him.

  This had been a book my parents owned.

  The only possession of theirs left.

  The only thing that remained of my home.

  My fingers matched up with the worn spots on the pages exactly. I imagined my mother reading this book night after night, looking for answers after I’d arrived at their doorstep. I imagined my father paging through it, searching for hope and inspiration.

  My parents were sworn members of one of the temples.

  And I’d never known.

  They’d encouraged my ignorance to protect me.

  That all ended now.

  I turned the first page, greedily eating up the words, devouring stories of old as Finn and Ryder bickered over everything and anything: which route to take, the appropriate speed to go without getting pulled over, even something about grilled cheese and which cheeses melted the best versus cheeses that tasted the best.

  I pulled the book closer to my face, the 8 a.m. sun bright on the pages.

  Something about the text seemed eerily familiar yet completely foreign, like hearing a song from your childhood on a badly tuned radio; I knew the words but couldn’t quite call them forth. It was easy to get lost in the tales of the First Four. How Ash of Fire and Lyre of Air had created a tornado of fire and light to fight off an oppressive dictatorship. How Davarius’s command over soil had shaken nutrients to the top of the soil, changing landscapes so farming was more feasible. And how Kaleal had used her Trident to carve waterways into dry and barren lands otherwise deemed useless for generations.

  Together they’d cured a horrifying famine.

  They’d also changed Earth forever.

  The descriptions of the Gods felt like coming home. From Ash’s fiery hair to Davaris’ charcoal skin, I instantly knew what each of them felt like, looked like. Even Kaleal’s violet eyes felt more like fact than fiction. She was my history and these were my past friends, my allies.

  I wondered what my new allies would look like and where I would uncover all of them.

  Questions rose as I paged through the book.

  “What happened to the talismans?”

  “The what?” Finn twisted the dial controlling the volume of some station they’d finally settled on. Ryder had wanted metal. Finn wanted country. Pop it was. Go figure.

  “You know. The talismans. Kaleal’s trident and the cursed sword. Where are they now?”

  “The Order keeps track of them and protects them until the next generation of Gods is born. I imagine they’re being held at their headquarters in Rome. They’d want to keep them in the most secure place possible. You don’t get much more secure than that.”

  “What do they do?”

  “That’s a bit of a mystery, really.”

  “How do I get them back?”

  “You’ll need to go to the Order to do that.”

  “Let’s do that.”

  “Ok, glowstick.” Ryder smirked. “Tell ya’ what. When we finally get to Wisconsin and find whichever of the Gods you say we’re going to uncover there, and escape safely at that, then we will head to Rome and find some way to beat the best security in the entire world to get your stuff back. But only then.”

  I narrowed my eyes. He extended a pinkie. Hard to break a pinkie swear. I notched my finger around it, trying hard to not remember the last such promise I’d sworn.

  And hadn’t kept.

  31

  Geoffrey

  Twin mountain peaks encompassing the width and length of the outside wall, framing a large door propped open with a wedge of rubber, boldly proclaimed this particular church’s affiliation. The fist in my gut clenched as I passed through the entrance. The guards who’d followed me from the helicopter remained outside, taking up spots on either side of the door, guns drawn.

  I knew he was here.

  Toren had always favored Earth, even though he tried to disguise his disdain for the theatrical side of the Order. This was exactly the type of place he’d settle into.

  He’d appreciate the irony most of all.

  My eyes swept across the narrow, clear windows that ran the length of the church on both sides. One window for every row of pews. I forced myself to keep my gun holstered under my jacket as I marched up the worn, red carpet carefully running the length of the center aisle. A skylight carved into the roof cast rainbows on the pulpit. I’d attended any number of masses, been recognized at any number of churches.

  Yet this, right here, felt oddly foreboding.

  I clenched a fist as flames flared in my chest.

  Midway up the aisle, I paused. A young man wearing a white Henley and cargo pants lay across one of the pews. Long hair fanned over his slack face, eyes closed in anxious slumber. Every so often he’d twitch. The movement tugged on the rope that shackled his arms behind his back. More white rope twisted around his ankles.

  “I see you’ve met our guest of honor.”

  At front of the church, a large, wooden
Earth symbol hung from the ceiling. I knew the man that stood beneath it was the man I’d formerly considered my best friend. But now I only saw a monster. My eyes flickered back to the person I’d never seen before. He moaned.

  “What have you done?”

  It was a rhetorical question. An empty one at that.

  “The better question is: what haven’t I done?” Toren hooked his hands around the edges of the pulpit and leaned forward, a wicked grin split his face in two. “When did you finally figure it out? Was it when you saw the helicopter that you’d never wanted to engineer? Was it the explosion that crippled a neighborhood? Or was it my soldiers so eagerly following my directions. Hmm?”

  I’d already figured most of it out.

  But hearing the truth in his voice… it cracked my heart wide open.

  I turned from the sleeping boy, making a mental note to return for him. “What was the point of it all?”

  “Ah, ah, ah.” Toren waggled a finger. “Now that’s jumping ahead. This begins with a story. A story of a young man who made a foolish decision that cost him everything. Please, take a seat. This will take a few minutes.” I sank into the pew at the front of the room, the seat hard and unyielding, hands pressed to the wood at my sides.

  My weapon pressed against my chest, it’s weight comforting in its closeness.

  Patience.

  “I know you’re aware of my family’s legacy and our subsequent fall from grace,” Toren said. “What you don’t know is the reason for our failures. And that all lies with one, stupid decision. A grandfather of mine with more greats than I can remember was on an expedition, you see, when he stumbled upon a lamp. He collected antiques and he recognized it being worth far more than the sale price. He purchased it from the vendor on the spot and returned home.

  “Once home, he discovered why it was such a cheap buy. It contained a djinn. Having recognized the scent of a new master, this djinn spilled forth and offered its services. Three wishes, only a few spare limitations. The world was his oyster.”

  The brass lamp on his table.

  An ancient artifact lying in plain sight.

  Toren twisted so his weight shifted on the pulpit. One of his forearms leaned heavily on one side as he stared up at the skylight. “My ancestor, though, was an intelligent man. He knew of the djinn’s cursed nature. He knew that once he’d used his three wishes and failed to free the djinn from its eternal life of servitude, that djinn was free to take his soul.”

  “Sure,” I said. I was familiar with the myth. The wise avoided the fey like the plague and the stupid fell victim to their charms. I shifted in my seat, forcing myself to keep my head straight and not look back at the door. Five minutes I’d told the guards. If I didn’t emerge in five minutes, they were to come inside and await further instruction. I estimated two minutes remained.

  “The temptation was too great to give up the lamp. So, he made two wishes for material things. And the third he used to free the djinn.” Toren’s face twisted into a snarl. “That decision cursed our family. That man was the last of us to know true wealth and supreme power. He waged a number of wars and subsequently lost them. When he died, his son assumed the throne and quickly lost it. What little wealth remained was soon gambled away, lost to the sand and the winds. And so, our cursed luck continued through the generations, despite every attempt to the contrary.”

  I blinked. Surely five minutes had passed by now. Where were those guards? I tried to stand but my legs only twitched in response. My body felt heavy, my arms not strong enough to heft the weight.

  “And that’s where you come in, Geoffrey. You were a prodigy, a leader who was going to change the world. Everyone thought it when you were born, and they knew it when you took control. You smashed the ancient teachings to pieces, understanding the meaning of true power and how it belongs to those in power. Not to teenagers with a crisis of the ego.”

  The guards weren’t coming.

  That was obvious.

  And Toren had it all wrong. I’d never ordered the deaths of the Gods to keep power for myself, for the Order. I’d done it to save the world. It was a rash and stupid decision. I’d never meant to cause as much pain as I had.

  The weight of the gun, once so comforting, now tugged on my jacket like an anchor. I wanted to grab it, pull it from its holster and fire it. But I couldn’t make my arms move. Couldn’t lift them off the seat. I was paralyzed and couldn’t figure out how or why.

  “Most of your peers thought you were an impenetrable fortress.” Toren’s voice tightened and he rounded the podium to stand on the top step. “You kept few people in your confidence, handled decisions with ease, you reshaped the landscape of the Order and its role here on Earth for the better. But my parents weren’t counted among your peers. They were less than. And when you are less than those around you, you learn to scent out the weakness. And, Geoffrey,” he laughed, cold and animistic, “you have an incredibly soft underbelly.”

  My mind felt foggy. I wanted to defend myself, wanted to contradict him. But the words weren’t coming. Why couldn’t I move? Why couldn’t I think?

  “You’re the first Hand in two-thousand years, a man with everything to gain and nothing to lose. And yet, you fall victim to the wants and desires of very single human being on this planet: companionship. You crave it so much, you don’t question it when you find a complete stranger who dares to laugh at your jokes and challenge your opinions.” He threw his arms wide, embracing the heavens. “My parents recognized the trait and realized our family would find its salvation in you.

  “You are nothing but a doll to which we attached strings. Slowly gaining your confidence, then your loyalty. And it’s truly tragic, because you’re the opposite of whiskey which only gets better and stronger with time. You’re more like fruit, soft and mushy as it spoils. You started to loosen your grip on that power you used to hold so firm. Age turned you compassionate rather than cunning.”

  Only a miracle kept my face blank, even as my world swayed on its axis.

  “When you came to me and made it clear you wanted mercy for those deplorable Gods, I saw my opportunity. My chance to bring you down and raise myself up. Every move you’ve made, I’ve been one step ahead. That’s how a true leader works. The Council never wanted the Gods to return. It’s content with its power. It’s sickened by your insistence on second chances. All I had to do was take advantage of that lack of faith.”

  “You’ve undermined me this entire time.” My mind focused enough to force the words out. Everything inside me bled, my sense numb.

  “You got it!” He held a finger high, a priest preparing to direct his flock. “I’ve discredited every one of your decisions, driven wedges between those whom you trust. Every move I’ve made has been a mark in the favor of the Council and its true desires—desires that used to be yours, you know—and exemplified how inept you are as the head of the Order.

  “I even got that poor girl to hate you with every fiber of her being.” He smirked. “She’ll never know how much you tried to save her life.”

  Tried…

  “You know she’s still alive?” My head felt foggy.

  “Of course I know she’s alive. My commander saw her scuttle away just as you did. You see, it’s all part of the plan. And she’s my final act.”

  I couldn’t think about Zara. Not when my tongue felt like fuzz in my mouth.

  “What I still don’t get,” I took a deep breath, each word felt like climbing a mountain, “is how this gains you any power. I can’t be voted down. And you can’t kill me. Not without dying yourself…” I frowned, slumping on my elbow as he approached.

  “You missed something, Geoffrey. A key part of my story. Remember those two wishes my grandfather made?” My vision grew hazy around the edges. My body had never felt so heavy, but I forced my head upright on my shoulders. “One of them is incredibly important to your narrative. You see, he wished for a poison so undetectable it was as if the person infected with it had died of natural
causes. A poison cursed to kill the victim, but never anyone in my family, with my blood. That poison has been passed down from generation to generation until…me.”

  He held up the jeweled knife, pride shining bright in his eyes as he unscrewed two of the jewels, each revealing hidden vials of clear liquid.

  My head hit the pew with a thud.

  I was so foolish.

  So incredibly foolish.

  My demise was right there in front of me.

  And I’d missed it all.

  “I’ve already tried to poison you once. I wanted to end this game before it went too far. But just far enough that I’d gained enough traction within the Council. But you passed on that opportunity, and some poor young man died in your place.”

  Mateo.

  I’d known something was wrong with that report.

  “How…”

  “How did I finally poison you?” He finally left the pulpit and descended the stairs of the altar. Grimly, he pointed at the pew and held the stones out for me to see. “Poison doesn’t have to be ingested. I used the emerald one in your coffee. The ruby, though, that only requires contact with the skin.”

  My palms on the seat.

  I’d never even considered the possibility. I’d thought he’d try to shoot or take me prisoner. But not this.

  The world blurred in my eyes.

  “You don’t think they’ll find it suspicious when I turn up dead?”

  A corner of his mouth pulled back in a smirk. How I’d never noticed his deceit I’d never know. It was vibrantly obvious to me now. “The Council wants you dead. And the Gods, too. If they get what they want, do you really think they’ll pour many resources into answering the whys and hows?”

  No. Not the Council I knew.

  The Order was all about blood.

  “All that matters is that neither I nor my men, are seen anywhere near here when your heart finally stops beating. You see, Geoffrey, you really should have taken better care of yourself. Your obsession with finding that God led you to make foolish decisions. A lack of self-care. Had you treated those scratches on your hands, the ones you insist on giving yourself, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten that infection. And maybe sepsis wouldn’t have set in.