“How many men do we know on the Council? How many Prophets are we certain are loyal to Japha or Navin?” Arek asks.
Japha and Navin. These men continually haunt me.
“They’ve sworn for years that they would protect her, and yet all we’ve done her entire life is try to protect her from them,” Mak continues.
“We knew that was the way it would be, Mak,” Briston says confidently. “It just got worse when it came out.”
“When what came out?” I ask quickly.
It is instantly clear they are going to ignore me.
“Arek’s right. We should prevent her understanding more than she should,” Kenichi agrees. “If not to save her, then to save ourselves from the directives of the Prophets.”
“Right,” Briston says as he places an arm over my shoulders.
“We need Gyre,” Kenichi says with a nod of his head.
“Is that really necessary?” Mak yells.
Kenichi looks at Briston with question. Finally, Briston nods his head. “All right.”
Suddenly something happens that hasn’t since we arrived in Japan—Arek agrees with Mak. This alone terrifies me. “That’s not a good idea,” he says.
“It’s the only idea,” Kenichi insists. “You have another suggestion, you share. Until then Gyre is where we go.”
My father looks at me like there is a mystery to solve, like he wants desperately to have the answers.
“Go back,” Briston tells me compassionately. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure out what’s best.”
Arek nods, “Come on. Let’s go.”
Mak shakes his head. “I’m going to finish here.”
Arek takes my arm, directing me to the house.
“Who is Gyre?” I ask.
“Our only hope at this point.”
“You don’t believe that,” I say as we walk alone.
“I don’t know what to believe.” He takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “This is the first time in my life that I don’t trust my instincts,” he nearly whispers as a bead of sweat drops from his head.
The weight of the world sits just above his eyebrows and in the long muscles just below his neck.
A young servant with jet black hair and thick eyebrows appears twenty feet ahead where he passes the pond by walking across the grass. He keeps his head down, but unexpectedly veers toward us. Arek watches him strangely while I pay little attention. It isn’t until Arek reaches across my body to stop me from walking that I’m aware of something wrong. The stale air is mildly wet, and the birds are back to a sing song, until the sudden severity fills the space between us.
“Get behind me,” he whispers. I have no choice when his arm presses heavy against my chest and I step back. Slowly the servant’s eyes rise, noticing Arek’s attention. The servant reveals he is only the distraction of what is coming next by peering behind us. Arek turns, but it is too late. A man has drawn so close he grabs my hair, swinging a knife toward my face, but my hands catch his bicep. I groan under the pressure of his arm.
Arek wedges between us, taking the man down with a heavy thud. They scramble as I crawl away. The servant with the thick eyebrows lands on Arek while he fights the second man. My eyes scan the area hoping to find some way to help Arek, until he flips the second man over his head and grasps the servant’s leg. He jumps to his feet, never letting go of the servant’s ankle, so the servant crashes to the ground.
The fighting is excessive. The moves are so fast and intricate that I can barely understand all that is happening. Then suddenly Mak appears from somewhere down the path. It only takes him a moment to realize that he is out of his league with these men, but at least he can free Arek for a moment. Finally, Arek out maneuvers the first, then knocks the other off his feet. Mak quickly straddles this man, yanks the knife from his hand, and plunges it deep behind his ear.
Mak and Arek are out of breath, their eyes cast on each other for just a moment telling of the severe danger this attack meant.
“The secret is out,” Arek says.
In the evening we gather. “I’ve doubled the security,” Kenichi tells Mak and Arek as he enters the main room. The Japanese home has been a source of comfort for me, from the sound of the waterfalls and soothing breezes to the rhythm of the jungle leaves. It is here that I have memories. Mak and I were children here and fell in love here. Long walks before dinner have been our normal with long conversations before bed, yet today we were warned. Times are changing. It only reminds everyone, especially me, that I have no business in this world. From the pit of my stomach to the nerve endings on my skin, I am still just the teacher from San Francisco.
I lean against the wall with my hands tucked tightly behind my back, possibly trying to disappear. The moment is heavy as confusion sets in. A couple of wounds on Arek’s hands and face are already healing, yet he seems to drag the world’s chains behind him. Briston stands next to Kenichi studying something on his phone, while Peter sits uncomfortably on the couch beneath a large golden dragon statue that nearly dips down to touch his head. This is new. I have never seen it.
Kenichi shakes his head, “With everything shared now . . . social media and everything . . .”
“So, two men who seem to work here, just happen to have orders for Willow. What did they want? Were they with Navin? I thought this was supposed to be the best place to go?” Peter is still a teenager, inquisitive with little care to the accusations toward Kenichi and Mak.
Briston looks up, his silver hair and low glasses still unable to hide his strong features. “Peter!” Briston says roughly.
Beckah, Geo, and Kilon pour into the room only to immediately notice the tension.
“Might you ask Aita?” Peter says what no one else dares.
Mak’s eyes suddenly drop with concern.
Peter stands up, barely missing the dragon above him. “The first woman Mak takes in front of the Powers and to whom is denied marriage, is now within biting distance of Aita. She’s wanted to sink her teeth in you for years! Now is her chance.”
It all makes sense suddenly and I turn to Mak. “You and Aita . . . that’s why she looks at me like that?” I ask.
Mak doesn’t respond.
“Peter!” Briston yells, forcing Peter to back off, but not without a large sigh.
Mak storms off.
Geo interrupts, “What happened?”
The silence drops like a bomb, leaving many questions in its wake until finally Briston fills his chest with breath. “Somehow someone found out about Willow. They attacked.”
As the room continues to cascade in conversation, my eyes survey everyone until they stop on Arek. His concern as he looks at me makes me stand upright. For a moment, just like before when he has been on my street corner, he watches me. My stomach tumbles with the nerves that only Arek seems to activate.
“But who—” Geo is interrupted when the large glass door from the garden opens, letting the last of the falling sun fill the tiled hall.
Mak steps inside with Aita, who looks porcelain and perfect. Kenichi furrows his brow, as does most everyone.
“Say it,” Mak commands. He can’t look at her. “Say it!” Mak yells, which doesn’t scare her at all.
Aita averts her eyes from me as she confidently crosses her arms in front of her chest.
“I told my sister Remy is here,” she says briskly.
“So?” Briston doesn’t care about this information.
“She shared it with others,” Aita admits.
“You were warned, Aita,” Briston says angrily.
Aita doesn’t seem too displeased about the turn of events and her eyes dig into mine.
Kenichi shakes his head. “Aita . . .” then he says something in Japanese that is obviously reprimanding.
“Per usual,” Beckah quips.
Then Sassi enters, her phone at her side and her shoulders tight with frustration, caring nothing about the heavy faces. “We need to talk,” she informs everyone.
This ca
lls them immediately to attention. Her voice needs no more than a gentle hum to display her relevance. It takes only the behavior of those around her to tell me that she is the best of the best, a woman who has earned the respect of everyone in her path.
“Covey—” she begins, but Mak raises a hand to stop her.
“Aita, leave,” he commands.
Aita’s eyes grow with rage. “I am your wife. I belong here.”
“You’ve proven you can’t be trusted.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Aita cries out.
“Prove it,” Peter spits at her.
Aita speeds out the door, so Sassi continues once she’s out of earshot. “Covey has decided Remy’s return is out now and he doesn’t like it. The media and social media are challenging everything—Navin could simply turn on a television to find out anything he wants. So, Covey has convinced the Prophets and the Powers that we should be given no longer than tomorrow.”
“What?” Briston raises his voice.
“Apparently Covey had a secret meeting with Master Niya. In fact, I’ve been told from my sources that he’s spent the last few days meeting with everyone personally.” Sassi throws her phone on the chair next to her. “He’s gotten his hands on everyone.”
Kenichi nods. “Gyre first. Then Covey and the Prophets.”
Sassi’s eyes spin to Arek fast and it catches my attention. “Gyre?!”
Arek doesn’t say anything. Finally, Briston speaks up.
“Hypnosis is our only option.”
Everyone’s hesitation sends panic through my veins. “How long will it last?” I ask suddenly.
The room is silent until my father walks to me. “We have no time and you’re remembering too quickly.”
“How long will it take my memory?”
“We don’t know,” he finally answers.
“You would rather risk that I never have my memory come back?”
Kenichi speaks up. “You have no memory of the Cellar. If you did, this would not be a fight—”
Mak interrupts his father, seemingly afraid that I might take offense, “We get one chance to stand in front of the Powers and beg for time. One chance. And they will know if you have your memory back. There is no hiding that.”
“I’ll lie! I’ll pretend.”
Kenichi growls and tosses a hand at me like I am an idiot as he walks away. “Ephemes . . .” he whispers.
Arek comes close, “Willow, you’ve met someone before that you just didn’t trust right away?”
“Of course.”
“You knew inherently that I was there to help you.” He looks at me inquisitively, so I nod. “All of us have had years to perfect what we know from those we’ve never met. I can tell you what their thoughts are or whether they’re lying, whether they have good intentions, all before they speak.”
Years on this earth with nothing but time, I think to myself. It is amazing what these men and women have done.
“Ephemes have a very narrow understanding of fellow humans. Even those they’ve known for years. This doesn’t happen with Velieri. Do you understand?” Arek digs deep—it’s almost as though I can sense him within my thoughts.
“There is no lying to the Powers?” I ask as I watch everyone wrestle with what’s next. “There’s no lying to you?”
“No,” Arek answers truthfully.
Sassi rolls her neck with tension. “There is nothing easy about this. Damned if we do and damned if we don’t.”
“Is it not more important to clear her name so that she has a chance?” Kenichi begs. “It is time to go. Time to see Gyre.”
“Let them arrest me. I don’t care,” I say. The anger rises in my chest and comes out before I can stop it.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Briston says with compassion.
Kenichi lifts his hand in the air, “Men and women, more powerful, more capable than you, have come out of the Cellar nothing like when they went in. Demons haunting them day and night until they have no peace. If you go to the Cellar, there is no chance of bringing you back the same. Not as weak as you stand before me. We meet him tonight.”
I stand alone with my arms wrapped around me, trying desperately to calm my shaking hands. My room in Kenichi’s house has been my sanctuary for the last hour, waiting to meet Gyre. Outside a beautiful blue bird continues to sweep back and forth in the sky above the flower garden, never actually touching down to the safety of the earth. Again and again he nearly lands only to quickly ascend into the clouds. How strange that my feet are firmly planted on solid ground, yet I have never been so lost.
“It’s time to go.” Arek’s unexpected voice stirs the nerves within me.
“Why did I go in front of the Powers with Mak?” I ask.
It takes Arek longer than expected to respond. “To find out if they approved of your engagement.”
“Our engagement?” Finally, I turn to him, my surprise clearly showing on my face. “And?”
“They didn’t agree.”
“He wasn’t my Yovu?”
“They didn’t believe so. You weren’t allowed to marry him. It wasn’t by choice. The Powers are careful of who they allow to combine. A fusion of Bloodlines or Elite are often frowned upon. But no, I don’t believe he belonged to you. It’s one of the only times I’ve agreed with the Prophets and Powers.” It is painfully obvious that Arek doesn’t care to be talking about this.
“And Aita clearly feels the same.”
Arek grinds his teeth together and an irritation creeps into his voice. “Aita was promised that Mak would one day marry her. You stood in the way for many years.”
He shifts uncomfortably. For the first time the ability to read his discomfort is no different than taking a breath.
“Arek, he’s not the same as you,” I say. He reaches his hand out to touch the hem of my shirt. “His touch doesn’t feel the same as yours.” I hope that he will accept my assurance, yet he says nothing. “Will Gyre take every memory? Will he take that feeling you give me?”
Arek closes the distance between us with sound steps and places his palms on my cheeks. Instantly my skin springs to attention to be closer to his, as sparks rush through me until my body is on fire. He drops his head, but stops just inches from my lips, seeming to question whether he should continue. Without warning, a tear falls down my cheek and wraps around his thumb, so he pulls my forehead to his lips, kissing me gently. My heart pounds against my chest when he moves ever so slowly to reach my lips but doesn’t finish. Every place he has already touched still carries the remnants of him. It takes him so long to come just two inches closer, which gives me time to study the fight in his eyes. Arek wants Remy, not me. He wants the woman he called wife, fought beside, and loved for the length of many Epheme lifetimes. How can we be the same, but not the same?
Our eyes lock during his battle, while I wish for the end. Finally, he submits to it and his lips drop onto mine. The pressure of his kiss travels from my lips through my chest, igniting every inch of me. When his hand drops to my waist and then wraps around me, slightly pulling my hair that hangs down my back, my knees crumple into him. It is impossible to resist wrapping my arms around him and letting him lift me to my toes.
Something within me vacillates from panic to hope that he might finally accept that Remy possibly won’t return.
“Gyre is not here to remove your memory. He will work on slowing its return,” Arek explains.
“It’s time to go.” Peter’s voice whispers from the doorway.
Arek pulls his lips away just an inch, but he doesn’t let go while his eyes search my face.
“Is she me?” I whisper.
He grins, then nods. My skin still feels swollen. Peter must have disappeared down the hall while Arek took his time letting go.
“You’re asking me to—” I whisper, but he interrupts.
“—I’m asking you to give yourself the best chance at freedom,” he quietly admits.
“Forgetting you is not f
reedom.”
“Well, then it’s a good thing you don’t remember me yet and it won’t be forever.” He finally succumbs to a smile even though it is weighted with truth.
We chase the sunset down the winding hills of Japan. Somehow the car becomes a suffocating tomb, my anxiety wrapping around me like a dense gauze, so I quickly roll the window down and let the air blow on my face. When it becomes too dark to see the jungle, the rainforest comes to life in sound. Beneath the croak of a family of frogs, the encompassing chirp of birds winding down, and somewhere off in the distance the holler of monkeys is the tranquil sound of water running. I breathe in a large wavy breath hoping that it will open the passageways through my clamped chest.
We roll to a stop, but I look around before jumping out of the car just as everyone else does. Kilon opens my door quickly, revealing a mossy, flat rock path at our feet that will take us deep within the jungle. Like an organized procession, everyone surrounds me as we trek up the mountainside and it is hard to ignore their concern or the fact that most of them keep their hands securely positioned over their concealed weapons. Within a few minutes it sounds like I have run a marathon, yet no one else is winded. The elliptical sitting in my San Francisco apartment during the last few years seems to have been a waste of time, when really all I need is to figure out their secrets.
A mile in the dark trudging over slippery rock and moist ground takes us beyond a path. How does anyone know where we are going or how to find our way back? I panic when a sticky web larger than a blanket my mother crocheted for me attaches to my face and arm. Arek shines a light and quickly knocks the spider off my shoulder. I don’t see its size, but the sound of it landing on the ground reminds me of my cat jumping from the roof. Arek grins when he sees my wide eyes.
“It’s gone,” he assures me.
The excessive moisture in the air mixes with our layers of sweat turning our shirts damp and our extremities wet. The crew keeps their lights focused ahead when finally, a small structure appears between two old scraggly trees with lazy branches that lean all the way to the ground. Half of the place is made within a cave, but the other half is made of stone and bamboo extending out beyond the cave’s opening. A flickering orange glow comes from a small square but tilted window.
Out of the Shadows: Book One of the Velieri Uprising Page 14