Finally, I continue, “I studied history in school and there was nothing about this.”
“There won’t be.”
“An entire section of history is just erased?”
“We spent hundreds of years tracking down every bit of information making sure that it was.”
“But if all of this is true, why don’t I remember?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“What can you tell me?”
Arek walks to the window to watch the falling snow. “You are a Velieri and my job is to protect you.” When he turns back to me again, he takes a step closer and stares directly in my eyes and I am captivated, “Please trust me.”
I stand up to meet him. “You want to tell me,” I whisper.
He steps closer, “I do.” Yet after a moment of studying each other, he’s stronger than his desires, “But it’s best if I don’t.”
“Did that first attack have anything to do with this?”
He looks away again. “I don’t know. All I can say is if it gets out that you are here, it will cause chaos and we just can’t have that right now. Only certain few should know that you have returned, and even still, as you have been made aware, the wrong people have found out.”
“Arek . . .” The sound comes out more desperate than I’d like, and finally he looks back. “Return from what?”
“Not yet,” he says.
Then together we stare silently at the snow.
“If you let me, I will do my best for you. And what is best is that you know as little for now as possible till we talk to him.”
“Him?”
“The Monarch of the Electi.”
It’s obvious that my questions are useless. None of the words he is using make any sense. “You’re asking me to follow you . . . blindly.”
He hesitates. “Yes. Because you must understand, your questions will all be answered. And when they are, it’ll feel like you’ve always known.”
Unexpectedly, just twenty feet away upon the white blanketed pastureland, a mother lynx pads by with her babies leisurely following. My head throbs as I watch these small animals. “Okay.”
He grins.
“What?”
“Remy would never have conceded.”
“I’m not Remy,” I say clearly.
“Not yet. You should change your clothes. I’ll come back to get you,” Arek says quietly as though this is the excuse—he needs to take a break. “I’ve left some things on the couch for you.”
“Where’s Ian?”
“Still sleeping, the last I checked.”
“What will you do with him?”
“I don’t know. When I get any answers, I will tell you.”
One last lynx baby passes by, trudging somberly through the snow. “I’ve never seen a lynx before. I’ve never been to Switzerland,” I say. Chills travel uncomfortably through my spine. “Is it always cold here?”
“During the winter and early spring,” he says as he nods and crosses his arms in front of him.
“Can I know whose home I’m in?”
He hesitates, looks at me with one of his burdened looks, then cocks his head to the side. “Mine.”
“Oh. You live here?”
“When I’m not watching you.” He grins. “Get dressed and I’ll show you the rest of the place.”
“Just one more thing. What is Elizabeth expecting of me? She looks at me like she wants something.”
“I believe you are going to see it quite often. She is hoping that you remember her.”
“And others would do anything to keep me from having my memory come back. Like you . . .”
“Trust me.”
I answer quietly, “I’m trying.”
“You are going to have to get used to letting people down. It’s inevitable with the situation that we are in.”
“I don’t like letting people down.”
“You never did.”
Wonderment suddenly appears on my face. How did we know each other? “I never did?”
He clears his throat as he walks toward the door. Until that moment, he had been strong and collected.
“Hurry and dress, I’ll be back for you.”
With that he closes the door behind him, and I am suddenly very, very alone, again.
It occurs to me that my desire has always been to live in a tree house among the elements. So, as we walk through this modern home with glass walls, I realize this is the adult version. Now, as the sun sets in the later afternoon, Arek walks just ahead of me, turning on warm lights within the house of windows. His distraction in illumination gives me a moment to compose myself, but this is quite possibly the most beautiful home, cocooned between the Alps and meadows. Cathedral ceilings, warm lit modern chandeliers, and minimalist clean furniture create a thorough line of simplicity from one end of the home to the other.
He says very little, even at times seemingly uncomfortable with my awe. When we enter the kitchen, I gasp at the hanging black saucer-shaped fireplace directly in front of white covered mountains and trees.
“That wasn’t my choice, but I’ve loved it ever since,” he mentions when noticing my affection for it.
In every room, behind every window, is an even better view than that of the one before. Despite the shiny floors and clear-as-day windows, something feels equivalent to the warmth of entering a grandmother’s kitchen—comfortable and evocative.
Arek watches as my fingertips run along a cookbook on the shiny metal kitchen counter. Deep within his gaze there is a spark of the expectation that feels like an anvil on my shoulders.
“There’s so much I don’t know, isn’t there?” my reserved voice echoes in the open kitchen.
“No need to worry about any of it. It won’t help anyway.”
“If what you tell me is true, will I get all of my memory back?”
“I believe the answer is not if, but when.”
The single-story home is shaped as a horseshoe, so just beyond the kitchen is another hall—one side is made of glass and the other side has several doors. He leads me to the second door, where he stops.
“In here. The only thing I ask is that you say nothing of what I told you.” With that, he opens the door.
Inside is another bedroom and sitting on the end of the bed is Ian with his head in his hands. The second he sees us, he jumps to his feet.
“Willow!”
Arek quickly turns away but clears his throat uncomfortably. “You have just a few minutes. It’s important that you come to dinner. It may help you understand.” Then he disappears.
Ian runs to me swiftly, holding me so tight that it is difficult to breathe.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Nobody’s hurt you?”
“No. In fact, I think they’ve done this to protect me. At least it feels that way.”
Yet Ian laughs with irritation. “What have they said to you?”
“Nothing.”
The house remains warm even as the snow falls outside, and every so often the click of the heater can be heard. Just outside Ian’s window is a small pond with a bridge over the corner of it. I envision falling through one of the old wood slats along the path. Then again, I envision falling through to the water. It feels different . . . almost like memory. I squint my eyes to see clearly. The second step appears to be missing.
“This house is unbelievable,” Ian says as he grabs his coat from the chair next to the bed. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“The second step on that bridge is broken.” It is so vivid in my mind—taking a step and falling through the decayed oak—that I nervously scratch my head.
“So what?” Ian pulls the arm of my sweater. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere other than here. I don’t trust these guys.”
Arek and Kilon seem to be the least of my worries when I think of the old man Japha and Navin. Ian is ready to run,
and knowing him, he has mapped out the worst exit route imaginable. It is quite possible that Arek and Kilon are less of a worry than Ian. Leaving with him is an option, yet it doesn’t seem right. If everything that has been said is true . . . who is Remy? I lift my arm that had once been paralyzed and feel nothing out of the ordinary, only strength. A genetic gift to live longer and heal quicker ran through my mind. The bridge outside sits under several layers of newly fallen snow, but again I study the second slat that is obviously missing.
“We have to go,” Ian says under the high pitch of his jacket zipper.
“No.”
The football coach in him suddenly appears and his nostrils flare. “What are you talking about? Willow, these people kidnapped us from our home.”
“My home.”
“Whatever, you know what I mean. We’re supposed to just do as they say?”
“Ian, you are welcome to leave. They’ve been nothing but kind.”
He throws his hands to his face and growls. “This is crazy. You’re acting crazy, Willow.”
“I’m not acting crazy, Ian. I just feel okay with them.” Talking him off the ledge is familiar.
“Ian, listen.” I walk to him with my hands out. Finally, he stops fidgeting when he sees my intention. “Several months ago, before the attack, I had a dream and I never told anyone about it. It had that bridge.” I pointed to the pond.
“It’s a pond, Willow.”
“Yes, I know. But I wrote in my journal that I just knew I wasn’t who I was supposed to be. That it felt like something was going to happen. And now . . . here we are. I didn’t remember any of this until now.” Ian’s face is flushed. “I know you. You must be hungry. Let’s figure this out after we eat dinner and if they can’t prove anything to us we’ll go. Okay?”
“They’re going to have to prove a lot.”
“I agree.” He drops his forehead and places it on mine. “Come on.”
It isn’t easy pulling a man of Ian’s size down the hall, but it is the only choice. If he had his way, getting lost within the alpine woods would be more appealing than accepting Arek’s hospitality. Food is the only worthy bribe in this situation.
The dining room just off the kitchen has every element of straight lines and masculine hardware that would be expected in Arek’s home. The appliances are shiny stainless steel, and large, heavy black pans hang from a silver pot rack above the large island with a white marble counter.
Just behind the island, Sassi is dressed in an apron with a bit of powder on her hands as she leans in and smiles lovingly at Kilon, who stands close. He kisses her just before he notices us then jumps to attention when we appear.
“Good afternoon,” Kilon nods. Kilon points to the table with a strong arm. “Please take a seat. Sassi has made quite a dinner for everyone.”
“Will others be coming?” I ask.
“Yes. It’s important for everyone to be here. It won’t be long.”
“Rem— I mean Willow . . .” Sassi’s deep voice fills the room. “How did you sleep?”
“Good. Better than expected. Thank you.”
“That’s completely understandable after what you’ve gone through. Do you both have headaches as well?”
“Yes,” I say.
“That should go away soon. It will surprise you how quickly you will be ready to go back to sleep,” Sassi smiles. “Well, please remember to ask for anything that you may need.”
“I will.”
Ian pushes me to the table out of hunger, especially when Kilon sets out biscuits. Two chairs at the end of the table are already pulled out almost as a suggestion, and we accept the invitation, even though the idea of food makes me ill. It might be nerves.
From somewhere deep within the house, many voices begin to fill the halls. They arrive behind us and steadily walk through the kitchen toward the dinner table. Arek is at the helm, followed by the boy from the trolley, their cheeks and noses pink from cold. Behind both are the blonde woman and her boyfriend from BART and Elizabeth. My nerves take root a bit more.
In the corner of the kitchen, Arek speaks quietly with Kilon for just a moment. The room is close to silent. After several minutes, everyone takes their seats around the large table. I try to keep my eyes down since everyone stares. In a strange situation, only Ian touches the waiting food.
“Everyone had better eat this dinner. I’ve worked hard,” Sassi warns.
“Sorry, Sassi. It just seems strange,” the boy from the trolley says.
He has intense green eyes like Arek. In fact, after a few minutes of watching him, it is apparent that they look alike. The kid won’t look me in the eye but sits silent with a furrowed brow. Arek reaches over and places a hand on the top of his head with obvious affection.
“I thought she was back,” the boy whispers. Immediately people fidget in their seats.
“What do you mean?” I ask, yet no one answers. “Clearly he’s talking about me. You’ve been at the store for the last month.”
The kid nods.
“This is Peter.” Arek sits back in his chair and hits the kid with his elbow. “My youngest brother.”
With a full mouth Ian interrupts, “Who’s gonna take the time to tell us what we want to know?”
“Ian, don’t,” I say.
“No, come on Willow. We deserve to know something.”
“Ian, stop.”
“I don’t understand and it’s about time that someone tries to help us. Otherwise we’re leaving.”
Sassi has a sip of her wine, then takes the bait. “When you were only three, you got lost in Union Square in the middle of San Francisco. After that, your mother would dress you nearly every day in the same clothes and say, ‘I want to always—”
I interrupt, “—know where you are.” I look at her carefully. “How do you know that?”
Arek continues, “When you were thirteen, you decided to ride your bike with your friends farther than your mother wanted you to go. So, as you headed through the Embarcadero you fell from your bike and hurt your hand. There was a woman who was nice enough to drive you home. Her name was Ellen—”
I finished the name with him, “Ellen Bonham.”
Ian chuckles, “How do we know that they haven’t found these things out from someone else? Google anyone?” he accuses.
Arek pays no attention—he is laser focused on me. “After your mother’s funeral last year, you realized that you couldn’t find her letter that you had taken with you to the cemetery.” My cheeks flush as he continues his story, “You searched everywhere because it was the last one from her. When you couldn’t find it, you fell asleep with your phone in your hand after calling everyone you knew to see if they had it.”
“The letter was on my pillow the next morning when I woke up.” I stare at Arek as though he’s the only one in the room and he doesn’t look away. “I thought I lost it,” I whisper.
He grins. “No. It fell under your chair at the funeral.”
“You put it on my pillow without me knowing? How?”
The people at the table chuckle and Peter chimes in, “Arek’s been trained to live in the Shadows. He used to be a Shadowman.”
Ian jumps up, sending his chair to the floor and making the plates clatter. True to his nature he waits a millisecond before grabbing my shoulder rather forcefully, to which I see tension grow across the table. “Let’s go.”
“Ian—” Arek doesn’t continue as Ian’s body begins to sway. There is great danger of his gladiator-size body falling forward onto the table and sending food flying, but Ian is smart enough to sit back down, his eyes half-mast.
“No . . . you . . . dooon’t,” Ian says as he points at Kilon, but he can’t finish before his head hits the plate of food.
Sassi shakes her head. “Must you keep doing that?”
Kilon laughs and it lightens the mood for everyone else. “Come on, you’re telling me you want to listen to this guy?” Kilon asks.
“You can’t just put him to sl
eep every time you want him to shut up.” Sassi gets to her feet and walks to Ian. “Besides, look at him. It’s going to take all our strength to move him back to his room—not to mention the headache he’ll have when he wakes up.”
This is surreal. My eyes are wide and my mouth open as I study the crowd at the table. “How do you do that?”
“I get into their head.” Kilon grins as he takes a bite of biscuit. “You were a teacher,” he states—probably knowing more about me than I want him to.
“Yeah.”
“In order for you to be a teacher, you have to go to school and study. But all the studying in the world doesn’t make you a good teacher. You have to have the knack for it—like a natural talent.” He shrugs his shoulders with confidence. “Well, that’s my talent. Everyone here, in one way or another, knows how to hypnotize someone to sleep. Hypnotism just happens to be what I excel at. That’s the luxury of being a Velieri—all the time in the world to be the best—” He winks at me. “Do you think Bruce Lee became a master from just one lifetime?”
My eyes widen, as I let that thought sink in. “Bruce Lee was Velieri?”
“He IS Velieri.” Kilon nods, with a telling grin. “There are many you already know.” He scoops several pounds of potatoes on his plate.
“Kilon, let’s introduce ourselves,” Sassi says after she decides to let Ian sleep soundly on his plate and sits back down next to Kilon.
“Why don’t you go first?” Sassi suggests to the blonde woman from BART.
“I’m Beckah Rykor.” Her tomboyish voice is quirky along with her mannerisms. “Arek’s my cousin and he introduced you and me. Ever since then, you and I were inseparable . . . well, except for the past thirty-three years, of course.” She winks at me.
“So, in this world, how do you know how old anyone is?” I hesitantly ask.
“Two people can look the same age yet be hundreds of years apart. You get used to it.” Beckah seems to eye Arek for permission to continue, but he simply takes a sip of his drink. She accepts this as approval and continues, “This is my very quiet and serious boyfriend, Geo.” Geo lifts a quick hand but doesn’t say anything. He’s handsome but seems reserved. Beckah shrugs, “Several times I thought you were going to talk to us when we sat across from you on BART.”
Out of the Shadows: Book One of the Velieri Uprising Page 7