“We studied evolution in school,” Simon said, “but I don’t see how …”
“I was in Spain last month,” Michel went on, “to visit several caves full of prehistoric paintings. While touring them, I discovered something. In a complex that belonged to Neanderthal man — where these same skeletons were found — I came across these pictures. Take a look.”
He handed several photographs over. Earl and Simon peered at them. They were pictures of hunting scenes that had been masterfully drawn, showing elks and bears surrounded by spearmen. But there was something else. Three photos showed scenes of a hunter with a spectre floating out of his body. There were also drawings of elks, wolves, and bears with man-like shadows inside, like they’d been taken over. The message was clear.
“Incredible,” Earl said, handing the photos to Michel.
“Wait a second,” Simon said, “are you saying the Neanderthals mastered transmigration? And that the bolkhs date back to Neanderthal times?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Michel stared at the skulls before him. They seemed to be grinning, as if they were hiding some secret. “Cro-Magnon was more advanced than Neanderthal. He could out-think him, outfight him, and easily out-hunt him. Over time, the Neanderthal population grew smaller and they were pushed into the fringes of Spain. They should have disappeared …”
“The way a computer vanishes when a new model comes along,” the girl spoke up. Her eyes met Simon’s and she smiled broadly. She might have been his age or maybe a year younger. Her hair was russet, she had the build of a gymnast, and her eyes were a beautiful coral colour. Like Emma and the others, she was very much the vrindh.
“Precisely,” Michel said. “Forgive me. I haven’t introduced Colleen, my daughter.”
“Nice to meet you,” Earl said. “I thought you were attending a school in Geneva. Did they let you out early?”
“No,” the girl answered, with a faint French accent. “My father decided we should travel together. He picked me up yesterday and here we are.”
“We haven’t much time,” Michel broke in nervously. “Let’s get back to the subject at hand. As I was saying, the Neanderthals should have died out, but many of them didn’t. Instead they developed an uncanny talent: their souls could leave their bodies and take animals over. A few could occupy trees and plants. And if a Cro-Magnon were weak or drunk or crazy, they could control him too. This talent enabled many to survive.”
“But only in kaba form,” Simon said. He was blushing slightly. Colleen was eyeing him still.
“Yes. Once they were living in vadhs and shatls, Cro-Magnon couldn’t threaten them. But, as you say, this trick came at a price. They existed as spirits and little more.” Michel charged a window on the far side of the room. He could hear a bird banging its wings against the pane. Inspecting the window more closely, he saw that the bird had built a nest outside. He smiled with relief. False alarm.
“What about the vrindhs?” Earl asked.
“They are different. Vrindhs come from bolkhs, or Neanderthals, who’ve survived in the flesh. We’re mainly lura but part bolkh too. That means we can carry a bolkh’s offspring. Our numbers are tiny but here we are.”
“So what does Tarhlo want?” Simon asked. Colleen’s eyes were on him still and he didn’t know where to direct his gaze.
“He wants the bolkhs to flourish again. As spirits they can’t reproduce — that’s the price I mentioned. The only way they can regenerate is through …”
“Incarnation,” Simon said.
“Yes. Incarnation. For generations they’ve plotted to return to the flesh. Once this is achieved, they can reproduce.”
“In bodies like these?” Simon asked, motioning to the skeletons that, while shorter and stockier than the lura version, were graceful nonetheless.
“No. All such bodies have turned to dust, except for the vestiges that survive in us vrindhs. His plan is to take many luras over. By my estimate there are fifty thousand bolkhs at large. And many more are lying dormant in the forests of Europe. We’re talking about a half million kabas — if all of them were incarnated, they could reproduce quickly. Within a hundred years they’d number in the tens of millions.”
“But they can’t occupy luras. So …”
“Your sister is the key. She is a hamax.”
There was another disturbance outside. Earl walked over to investigate. Like Michel, he studied the bird’s nest. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. It was normal enough but all four of them were worried.
“We shouldn’t stay much longer,” Earl said. “Let’s wrap things up.”
“The bolkhs have a tradition,” Michel pressed on, speaking in a rush. “Once in a blue moon, a hamax can appear. This is a very rare occurrence and is marked by the appearance of twins, the hamax and her brother.”
“What’s so great about a hamax?”
“Take a look.” Michel handed two more photographs over. These depicted more prehistoric scenes. In the first, a girl was carrying kabas inside her. They were smiling, as if the girl were a refuge. The second snapshot showed a man standing next to the girl. The painter had drawn a large circle above them, as though they were walking in some kind of bubble. A third photo contained a very different scene. It showed a ring of bolkhs with their hands joined together. They were circling a stag with a bolkh inside that was trying to escape its vadh, but couldn’t quite manage.
As Earl handed the pictures back Michel spoke, “The drawings suggest that the hamax can carry multiple kabas, like a Noah’s ark. If there’s a shortage of vadhs, she’ll keep the kabas from dying.”
“Why would this be useful to Tarhlo?”
“I don’t know. But he clearly has some plan in mind. The second photo shows that the woplh and hamax form a unit. I can’t say what this means precisely, but your function, Simon, is to keep your sister safe. I also suspect you can bring out strengths in each other, that you’re stronger together than you are alone.” From habit, Michel glanced round nervously. “Finally, there’s the third drawing. Its purpose is clear. When these bolkhs form a ring around a vadh, they can prevent its inner kaba from leaving. Like these gentlemen here.”
He motioned to the skeletons that were standing in a ring and grinning like five jack-o’-lanterns, as if saying they would get the last laugh yet. The scene spooked everyone. It was time to go.
“Let’s leave by different exits,” Michel said, heading to a door at the room’s north end. “As always, Earl, it has been a pleasure. And you, young man …”
“Yes?” Simon paused before the room’s south exit.
“Tarhlo has something dreadful up his sleeve, and that’s why I took my daughter from school. But perhaps you can stop him if you’re true to your nature. Simply put, you must guard the hamax. No matter what, you must keep her safe. This is something only you can do. Best of luck and be very careful.”
Colleen moved forward and took Simon’s hand. “I hope we meet again,” she said, before joining her father on the far side of the room. The pair of them exited, while Earl stepped past the southern door. Shaking off his torpor, Simon followed close behind.
As he left the stares from the skulls were burning holes in his back.
Chapter Sixteen
“How are you feeling?”
“A little better. The powder’s maybe kicking in. The change of clothes is helping too. But I’m afraid I’m getting hungry again.”
“Crispijn can pack the food away, can’t he? But I’d rather not stop, if you don’t mind. The sooner we reach the farm, the better I’ll feel.”
They were on the road and fifteen minutes away from the girls. After leaving the Natural History Museum, Earl had led them on a circuitous route through the crowded Latin Quarter and to the Île de la Cité. After milling in a huge crowd in Notre Dame Cathedral, they’d walked to a nearby Metro station and taken a train to the Châtelet, a hub packed with hordes of commuters who’d throw any lurking bolkh off their trail. From there they’d entered a
department store, where they’d purchased Simon a new set of clothes as well as something to deal with his itching. Earl had proceeded to an underground lot, where he’d worked his usual magic and “borrowed” a car. After navigating the heart of city — they’d driven past the Louvre, the Place de la Concorde, the Champs Élysées, and Arc de Triomphe — they’d finally left the urban sprawl behind.
“If you really can’t last,” Earl went on, “there’s a bag of pastry in my knapsack. It will take that pained look off your face.”
“That’s okay. I can wait,” Simon replied.
To distract himself from the pangs in his stomach he decided to ask a difficult question. “Can you tell me something? You said earlier you didn’t know about luras and bolkhs, not until my mother called. After that you were always running. How long did it take you to get used to the change?”
“Who says I got used to it?” Earl shot back. “How do you get used to something insane? I mean, souls that can control people if they’re plastered? It’s off the wall.”
“Off the wall,” Simon agreed.
“I’m still waiting to escape this nightmare. I keep thinking that I’ll wake up in Toronto and Dolly will be brewing me coffee downstairs, as if I’ve been dreaming these last eighteen years. That tells you how much I’m used to this stuff.”
“I’m scared,” Simon admitted.
“I am too,” he said.
They continued in silence for a few kilometres. It was late afternoon, the sun was hot, and the entire world seemed to be napping. The road was narrow and wound its way past many farms. Their progress was slow at times, when the occasional tractor blocked their path, hauling a wagon that was loaded with produce. There was livestock in the fields, but they were interested in grazing. The bolkhs weren’t active in this neck of the woods. A boy was riding on a horse in the distance. He waved at Simon. Simon waved back.
A sign that read Albert, 20 kilometres floated by.
“That was the site of a battle,” Earl finally said. “During the First World War. Three hundred thousand men were killed. If you visit it today, the land is very pretty. The trenches are covered with grass and flowers, and people like to picnic there.”
“You’re telling me something.”
“I guess. We’ve been fighting wars an awfully long time. They can be terrible, but the violence passes and peace breaks out. It doesn’t last forever, true, but when you consider how our numbers have grown, peace generally outweighs the destruction.”
“That sounds encouraging,” Simon said. “But you don’t sound cheerful.”
“You’re right,” Earl agreed. “I have no idea where this struggle is leading. Humans are very good at war, when it’s a matter of bombs, bullets, and missiles. But we’ve never fought any bolkhs before. As bad as things have been in the past, we’ve never faced a threat like this. That said …”
“Yeah?”
“I’m less scared now than I’ve been in ages. That’s because of you. You give me courage, believe it or not. Just so you know.”
Earl and Simon exchanged warm smiles. Then Earl signalled right and pulled into a lane that would lead them to their rented lodgings. The path took them up a hill that was overgrown with elms. When they’d climbed this incline the land flattened out, but the trees continued. The lane was black with shade. A kilometre beyond, in a sizeable clearing, the farmhouse beckoned. It looked solid, reliable, safe, and cozy.
Except the elms were suddenly laden with birds. Some branches were so thick with crows, starlings, sparrows, and other species that they were bending under the weight. There were hundreds of these creatures, thousands even, and all were watching the car advance. There wasn’t a sound. Not a single peep.
That wasn’t true. Just then, Earl’s cellphone rang. With a look of panic, Simon answered.
“Dis is a moment of crisis,” a voice spoke mockingly. “You hear me? A moment of crisis!” Simon felt his heart stop when he grasped that it was Cletho speaking. He hung up the phone.
“So they’ve found us,” Earl said matter-of-factly. “All along they knew where we were.”
“What do we do now?”
“We see what they want.”
Shifting to a low gear, he moved forward at a crawl. As soon as he left the trees for the clearing, the birds took wing in one large mass. It was as if a veil was hiding the sun. A pall of shadows encompassed them and escorted the car as it inched its way forward. In the fields flanking both sides of the road, dogs, cats, and livestock appeared. The dogs stood still and stared at Simon with a yearning that made Crispijn’s blood freeze over. When they stopped in a driveway in front of the house, eight figures lumbered out. Two were women, six were males, but all were hollow-eyed and violent looking.
There was no sign of the girls.
“No matter what happens,” Earl said, coming to a stop and applying the hand-brake, “it’s up to you. If they tie me up or do something worse, you have to keep going and rescue your sister. You can’t afford to fail. Do you understand?”
“Where is she? And what about Emma and Jenny?”
“Pay attention! You must save Clara. Is that clear?”
“I can’t see them …”
“Listen! This battle isn’t over unless you surrender. You have to keep pushing, no matter what! Is that clear?”
Simon exchanged looks with his uncle. Earl was nervous but his determination shone through. If he could keep his head when threatened like this, how could Simon not follow his example?”
“It’s clear,” he said, squeezing Earl hard. “I’ll fight to the finish. I won’t give in, no matter what.”
“Good,” Earl said, with the thinnest of smiles. “That’s all anyone can ask of you. Okay, let’s not keep our hosts waiting any longer.”
He undid his seat belt and left the car. Simon did the same. As soon as they were outside, the figures closed in. They were smiling vacantly and clawing the air in their anxiety to work the pair of them over.
“Leave ’em be!” an enormous crow cried out, settling in front of them. Cletho. “Dose are Tarhlo’s orders! Y’unnderstand?
“Well, well,” he continued, “if it ain’t Simon Carpenter. Though by now you know you ain’t him at all.”
“I’m glad you escaped that hamster,” Simon said, with a look that suggested he was almost bored. “But where’s Clara hiding? And what about my mother and cousin?”
“You’ll find out soon.” Cletho cackled. “But your uncle don’t get bolkhin ’n looks confused. Hang on a sec while I switch into a shatl.”
A moment later a burly man with a tangled beard stepped forward. His skull was shaved and scarred all over, a sign that surgeons had cut into his brain. Simon watched as the guy was suddenly filled with understanding, the result of Cletho having taken him over.
The bolkh resumed speaking, only this time as a human. “Dat’s better. So dis is the famous Earl? You must be quite a guy, to have escaped Tarhlo for eighteen years. But we finally caught you, Mr. Smarty Pants.”
“You got lucky,” Earl drawled.
“It warn’t luck, buster,” Cletho said with a smirk. “We’ve been trackin’ you since yesterday. We knew where you were holin’ up but decided to wait ’till we collected de right muscle. Can you guess how we was keepin’ tabs?”
Earl shook his head.
“T’roo him,” Cletho said, motioning to Simon. “You know how you stopped when dat truck was all smashed? Dat warn’t no accident, no sirree. I steered dat pig into de truck, knowin’ it would crash ’n you’d try pushin’ it outta de way. ’N when Simon neared de pig, t’ree of our Khalkons infected him. Dey’s were in de lice infestin’ de sow ’n it warn’t no problem to fly demselves over. Dese bolkhs have been givin’ us de goods ’bout your location, see?”
Simon cringed in disgust. Crispijn had lice? So that explained his itchiness, not to mention how the bolkhs had tracked them down. He cursed in silence. How could they prevail against an enemy like this?
“Ve
ry clever,” Earl said, utterly unfazed. “So what’s the plan? Are your goons going to murder me, the way your boss killed my wife? She was his cousin, in case you didn’t know.”
“She was a lura lover!” Cletho yelled with naked contempt. But his voice softened instantly, “But ’tings have changed ’n you don’t gotta worry. We ain’t gonna lay a finger on you. I’stead, you’ll stay here under de eye of my colleagues.”
“You’re joking,” Earl answered.
“No kiddin’, buster. Tarhlo knows dat victory’s near. As de uncle of the hamax, you deserve some respect. So you’ll sit tight here until we unite youse wid your sister.”
“Where is my sister? And what about my daughter?”
“Dey is safe and no concern o’ yours. But dat’s enuff from you. Take him off.”
The goons grabbed Earl and led him away. They weren’t all that gentle, but they weren’t rough either. Simon watched him leave with regret. It was easier to feel courage when a friend was near. Still, he remembered his vow to Earl and suppressed a mounting wave of despair.
“What about me?” he asked, in the same calm tone as his uncle’s.
“Dat’s easy,” Cletho said. “It’s time fer you to meet your dad. Your real dad and not dat ridiculous lura.”
“Is he here?”
“Here?” Cletho sneered. “Why would he be here? He’s leading Clara, or Kralha, to the domh, togedder wid de udders. Dat’s where we’ll be meetin’ him.”
“The domh?”
“You’s really are ignorant, ain’t you? De domh’s de very last home we had. It’s in a place de luras now call Gibraltar. Tarhlo figgers it’s de place to launch our invasion. Poetic justice, if youse get my meanin’. Still, ’nuff o’ dat. We’s got a lotta sky to cover ’n jawin’ on ain’t goin’ to get it done. Let’s get movin’. ”
Cletho beckoned to the flock around them. Instantly a bird flew near and stood in front of Simon. It was a common swallow, with a yellow breast and dark blue wings. It was small and unimpressive looking, but strong and capable of long-distance travel.
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