by Amalie Jahn
After nearly rear-ending the car in front of them, Jack pulled into the closest lot and parked.
“So is this an alien thing or a zombie thing or what?” he asked. “Do I need to start stockpiling ammunition and Tuna Helper?”
She wanted to punch him but was smiling before she could stop herself. She could never stay mad, but the fact remained that her part in the prophecy wasn’t easy to explain, which was part of the reason she hadn’t shared it with him already. The bigger reason was she feared he may have reached his limit when it came to accepting her weirdness. But he was staring at her with a look which implied that whatever it was, he could handle it.
She took a deep breath and dove in.
He stopped her about halfway through.
“So what you’re telling me is there’s a prophecy I’ve never heard of, foretelling two sets of psychics, one good and one bad, and whichever group finds all their members first wins?”
She gave him a weak thumbs up. “That’s essentially it.”
“And you and Thomas just happen to be two of the good guys and you think you’ve found two more.”
“Three more,” she corrected.
“You didn’t say anything about a third.”
“It’s because we think it was Kate.”
“Ohhhhhhhh.” She watched the understanding taking over. “So how are you supposed to get all seven of the good guys together now?”
She appreciated that he was being a good sport. Making a genuine effort to buy into the whole shebang instead of just playing along.
“I don’t think we can,” she told him. “Thomas and I have been working to find the seven dark ones so maybe we can try to keep them apart, but…” She trailed off, unwilling to acknowledge their failure aloud.
“So you think because you’re getting close to finding all seven, they probably are as well, and that’s what’s got you upset?”
She tucked her chin to her chest, unable to face him. The slaughter of Salomon’s family had her considering another possibility. “That’s what I’ve been thinking all along. That we would have to find a way to stop them. But now I’m starting to wonder if they might have already found him first.”
CHAPTER
44
JOSE
Tuesday, October 11
Baltimore
“I think you should go back again,” Andrea told him, tossing the remote control across the bed.
Her frustration was palpable, and Jose couldn’t blame her for wanting to see their confinement come to an end. He was as disappointed with their situation as she was, and at a loss for what was taking the police so long to find Alejandro. But unfortunately, until they had confirmation of his apprehension, it wasn’t safe for her to return to the world.
“The guy at the tattoo place told me no one’s been in there asking about you. And the cops have been watching from the street just outside the building since the interview aired. We might have to accept the fact that he doesn’t watch the news. Or if he does, that he’s not buying what we’re selling.”
“We’ve got to do something,” she moaned. “We need some other plan.”
He looked at her now, unshowered, dressed in the same sweatpants and t-shirt she’d been wearing for a week. And although he knew he could be upset at her for her miserable attitude, he forced the anger aside. Lashing out wasn’t going to help the situation. And neither was walking away. Because despite the fact that at any moment he could have hopped the next flight back to Phoenix, something compelled him to stay. He chalked it up to obligation, because he knew in his heart if he hadn’t physically saved her life in the hospital the first time, he wouldn’t need to be saving it emotionally now.
“I can go back on TV again. I’ll do another interview on another station. Maybe at a different time.”
She lowered her head, sulking. “No. It’s hopeless. Just bring me the tablet so I can finish filling out that application. Maybe someday, if I ever get to leave this room, I’ll be able to go to some of those classes.”
In the days they’d spent hunkered down together, they’d devised a plan for her future, which included culinary school and a job working in the kitchen at his parents’ restaurant. They’d spent hours talking about what it might be like for her to earn her own money in a career she loved, so she would never again be forced to rely on anyone else to support her financially.
As he crossed the room to retrieve the tablet from atop the small table, which served as both their kitchen and their office, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, but hesitated to answer because the number was blocked.
“Is it the cops?” Andrea asked expectantly.
“Dunno.”
“Well, answer it,” she said when he remained motionless.
He pressed accept and held the phone to his ear. “Hello.”
“Is this Jose Torres?” The voice was aggressive and heavily accented.
“Who’s asking?”
“I’m a friend of Alejandro’s. He just wanted me to let you know he has something for you.”
Jose tried to take in air, but it was as if someone was standing on his chest. His mind raced. The call didn’t make sense. Someone had to be playing a prank. “How’d you get this number?” he asked, trying to call the man’s bluff.
“A little bird told us,” he laughed. “And she’s right here with me.”
Jose heard what sounded like struggling in the background, along with muffled cries. What the hell was going on? “Who’s there?” he asked. “Who’s with you?”
“Well, Jose, we’ve got your Aunt Carla here with us. And she isn’t muy bueno, si?”
Jose lifted his eyes and saw Andrea looking at him expectantly from across the room. Her irritated façade had been replaced by a genuine look of concern, which he could only assume was brought on by the apprehension in his own voice. He focused on her now, trying to decide what to do.
With his eyes set on Andrea, he began talking himself down. If Alejandro had apprehended his aunt, and if she was hurt in any way, he could cure her. He could mend broken bones and heal lacerations, just as he’d done for her when he was younger. The problem was going to be getting her back alive.
“Where are you?” he asked.
The man laughed. “Oh, we’re close. Very close, mi amigo. In fact, we picked up Aunt Carla at her apartment. Guess she just couldn’t live without this ugly sweater she had to come back for. The problem is now she won’t tell us where you’re hiding with that little girlfriend of yours. I was just gonna chop her up and dump her in the harbor, but Alejandro thought she might be of more use to us alive. As part of an exchange.”
He drew out the last word, exchange, as though he was offering up the holy grail. Jose’s kneejerk reaction was to be offended – who did this guy think he was? Until he realized just who Alejandro intended to involve as the other half of the exchange.
He wanted to swap Carla for Andrea.
A series of disjointed thoughts ricocheted painfully around his head:
The primeval allegiance of blood over water.
The disappointment in his aunt’s reckless behavior.
The obligation he felt to involve the police.
His inclination to remedy the situation himself.
How badly he wanted to deck Alejandro for his psychotic obsession with Andrea.
He needed time to sort through his thoughts, but he knew every moment he wasted in silent contemplation was a moment Alejandro retained the upper hand.
“Where do you want to meet?” he asked.
“You can meet us at the corner of Holabird and Broening, down by the shipyard. There’s a vacant lot there were you can drop off Andrea. And I’m sure you know better than to involve any cops. We see anything suspicious, the deal’s off. Tu comprendes?”
His mouth was so dry he could barely speak. “And what about my aunt Carla?”
“We’ll leave her somewhere else, and she can call you to tell you where she is once we have Andrea.
”
He knew immediately he couldn’t trust them to keep up their end of the bargain. He needed more information. “Before I agree, I want to talk to Carla.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” he said.
Without missing a beat, Jose replied, “Then I’m not making the deal. For all I know you’ve tossed her in the harbor already.” He tried his best to sound convincing, assuming the stifled cries he’d initially heard belonged to her.
He heard a hand being placed across the mouth of the receiver and the hushed conversation of two distinct voices. He assumed the second one was Alejandro’s. A moment later, Aunt Carla’s hurried voice came across the line.
“Jose, you must go to the police. Please, I beg you. Don’t give Andrea to them, whatever you…”
She was cut off then, and he winced involuntarily as he heard her fighting back against her captors. Andrea was beside him now, nestled against his chest in an attempt to hear the other half of the conversation. He could feel her heart thudding heavily in her chest and knew she understood what was going on.
“Tomorrow. 4pm. By the docks.”
And with that the line went dead.
CHAPTER
45
LANYING
Tuesday, October 11
Shanghai
As the credits began rolling at the end of the documentary, Lanying muted the sound and turned to her grandfather, who appeared to have dozed off for the third time. “It’s hard to believe one man will treat another man that way,” she said, rousing him awake.
His eyelids lifted briefly but closed again – the effort too much for him. “Every generation feels as though the next will be far worse off than their own, but truly, that this sort of horror exists in today’s world can only mean one thing. The end is growing near.”
They had just finished watching a four-part series on African genocides - Burundi, Liberia and Sierra Leone, Darfur, Rwanda, and Uganda, among others. Thinking about Salomon, living in such conditions, where the culture not only allowed the spread of annihilation, but encouraged it, tore at her heart. Before reaching out to him, she wouldn’t have believed two people who had never shared the same space could bond so quickly, but their connection was clearly precipitated by the prophecy, providing a solid foundation on which their friendship was built.
Since their last conversation, she’d been trying to concoct a plan to secure a visa and funding for his trip to the States. Thomas had volunteered to help with obtaining a travel visa to the United States for him, but the airfare alone would cost over $1000. Between that and the price of travel documents, she wasn’t sure how she was going to come up with enough cash to cover his expenses. Not to mention, if and when he did secure passage to the US, she wanted to be there herself to greet him, which would require additional funding.
“I wonder how hard it will be for Salomon to leave?” she asked her grandfather, although the question was mostly rhetorical, as she didn’t expect him to have an answer. “And I don’t just mean emotionally, but there’s no guarantee the Democratic Republic of Congo will even let him go. Or that the US will let him in. And the cost alone may prevent any of it from happening.”
He slid himself beneath his covers, as if he was preparing to sleep, but he didn’t send her away. Instead he beckoned her closer, motioning with his hand. “You both need to go to Baltimore,” he murmured. “And I will send you.”
She assumed she’d misunderstood him. He’d depended on her parents for over a decade. They provided his meals, clothes, and a roof over his head. He didn’t have his own money. “How will you send us?” she asked, moving closer to assure she could hear him properly, as his speech seemed particularly garbled.
“In the trunk, on the left-hand-side, is a latch. If you flip the latch, a panel will open up on the bottom. In the bottom is a satchel. In the satchel you will find account numbers belonging to a series of bank accounts which contain enough money to pay for your travels. And Salomon’s travels. And his documentation if he can secure it.”
She didn’t move. How could it be after so many years that her grandfather was still surprising her? First with his knowledge of the prophecy, his trips to Africa, and now with the hidden money. But she wouldn’t take it. She couldn’t.
“No, Grandfather,” she said. “I can’t take your money.”
With obvious determined effort, he opened his eyes and reached out to take her shoulder, bringing her ear to his face. “It’s not my money. The money has been passed down over many generations, from mentor to mentor, keeper to keeper. Invested and reinvested over the course of many years before it came to me. Now I pass it on to you because time is growing short. And you will be the one to use it for its intended purpose – the fulfillment of the prophecy.”
She pulled out of his grasp, backing away from him. She’d already explained to him during their initial discussion of the prophecy that there would be no fulfillment, at least not by the light, which came as the result of Kate’s death. How now did he expect her to use the money to save the world? He wasn’t making any sense.
“It’s not possible,” she explained to him again. “One of the seven is no longer with us.”
He surprised her then, doing something he’d never done before. Quietly, in a voice so small she could barely hear, he began to sing:
“Soft as the voice of an angel,
Breathing a lesson unheard,
Hope with a gentle persuasion
Whispers her comforting word:
Wait till the darkness is over,
Wait till the tempest is done,
Hope for the sunshine tomorrow,
After the shower is gone.”
Speechless, she stared at him, like a ghost under a burial shroud. And then she realized the time he spoke of as ‘growing short’ referred not only to the prophecy but to him as well.
“Grandfather?”
“Whispering Hope,” he answered. “Listen to the rest of the song. Carry it with you. Do what you were born to do. And promise me, promise me, you will never lose hope.”
She nodded because she couldn’t summon a verbal response. His voice was barely a whisper, and he struggled to choke out the words, taking long pauses between each rattled breath.
“Take the money, Lanying. Wire some of it to Salomon if you are able. You must both go to the others as quickly as you can. Promise me. Promise me you will go to them and convince Salomon to go as well. The prophecy is coming to pass. The time has finally arrived.”
A moment later his eyes fluttered shut, and she watched helplessly as he took his final breath, slowly, peacefully. Both stunned and horrified, she reached across the space between them to shake him awake, to bring him back to her, but as tears began trickling from her chin onto his face, she was forced to acknowledge he was gone.
“No, please!” she sobbed. “What does all of it mean? What am I supposed to do with lyrics from a song I’ve never heard? How am I supposed to stay hopeful when one of the light psychics is no longer alive? What good will it do for the rest of us to be together in her absence?” Her hands shook as she raked them through her hair, anguish overtaking her. “Don’t go, please,” she said finally. “Not now. Not yet. I still need you.”
She sat with him until her parents arrived home from work and forced her into the hall, locking her grandfather’s bedroom door behind them until arrangements could be made. While they made phone calls to the emergency response line, she retreated to her room, disquieted by the silence of her isolation. As much as she wanted to give in to the grief which accompanied the devastating loss of her grandfather, she knew he wanted her to keep going. To remain hopeful. To fulfil her destiny.
To save the world.
And so, despite her overwhelming sorrow, she logged onto her computer, yearning to fulfill her grandfather’s dying wish. The least she could do now was to search for a liaison with the ability to transfer funds to Salomon.
She knew the money had the power to bring them together.
Beyond that, the only power she had left was hope.
CHAPTER
46
LILLIAN
Tuesday, October 11
Saint Tropez
Lillian felt her skin cooking. Her shoulders, her calves, baking into a deep, golden brown. She recognized the distinction between the sensation of a tan and a burn and wanted to avoid the latter, which is why she chose this exact moment to nimbly slip her bikini straps over her arms and turn over on the chaise. She’d been enjoying her uninterrupted time in the French Riviera, sunning and sipping mimosas without the constant annoyance of having to be at Patrick’s beck and call. She tolerated him, of course, and in some ways even liked him, but his obsession with the prophecy in recent months had grown out of hand, and she’d been relieved when the others persuaded him to give them all some breathing room. The others didn’t realize the toll biolocating took on her – placing stress on her mind as it struggled to focus on two places at once. Although, she thought now as she smoothed tanning oil on her thighs, they probably had no idea she seldom left her home in Saint Tropez, choosing instead to biolocate when she met with them.
The days had been growing cooler over the last several weeks, and Lillian was enjoying an unseasonably warm morning on the beach. The air was slightly brisk, causing gooseflesh to rise on her skin when it blew, but the sun was still warm, reminding her of the many years she spent basking under the hazy skies of Texas. She tried not to think of Texas, the first place in the world she felt truly vulnerable. The only place in the world she would never voluntarily return to.
She had no idea how much time had passed when her phone began to chime from the bag beneath her chaise, startling her from her repose.