by S. F. Kosa
Dana Logan (ZANA 9/25/99)—from Sacramento, CA, DOB 10/11/81, grad high school, two semesters Oregon State, parents (mom is real estate agent, dad is plant manager) send $300/mo and more on request, will follow up.
Marie Heckender (FABIA 12/24/99)—from Portland, OR, DOB 4/22/80, high school grad, one semester University of Oregon, dad is Harold Heckender (Willamette bank CEO). Available account Oregon Pacific, new checking acct#4718592519180484, balance as of 11/19/99 $19,433.47, available for transfer to BoA acct, will initiate.
Karen Turley (PARVANEH 12/24/99)—from Battle Creek, MI, DOB 8/3/83, finished eleventh grade (“barely”), younger brother, abusive home, no assets, no contacts.
It’s enough to devastate—a name, a birth date, a place of birth. Why did I feel like I had to give him my actual name and date of birth, for God’s sake? I’d been so cautious. Not wanting to give anyone a doorway to all of me. The only other Oracle I ever told my birth name to besides Gil? Dead because of me.
But I remember why I confessed. I was so glad to be in a safe place, with nice people and abundant food, so desperate to finally be accepted that I would have given them my account number, too, if I’d had one. On impulse, I pull the sheet of paper from his notebook and tuck it into my bag not a moment too soon. Max lumbers out of the restroom and plops down again. I offer to buy him another beer, and he declines. The alcohol seems to be catching up with him, and our conversation lags. I ask him if I can take the notebook to review, but he shakes his head and tugs it back across the table, telling me it’s his to protect. I pay the bill, thank him for sharing, and ask him if he has a ride home, since he’s clearly not in any condition to drive.
“Sorry,” he says blearily. “I’ll call my friend for a ride. We’ve all got our issues, you know?”
“Yes,” I tell him. “I get it.”
We say our goodbyes and I offer vague promises about following up. I tell him that if Miles is interested in pursuing his information, I’ll put them in touch. Then I drive back to Bend with the silver bullet in my bag. It’s only one page of almost a hundred, and none of them were numbered; he might never know it was missing. And it’s the only additional link I can think of that connects me to the Oracles.
Which means I’m safe. It’s almost enough to numb the pain in my arm. But as I pull up to Hailey and Martin’s house, everything comes roaring back, and I realize I’ve forgotten one very important detail.
She’s standing on the porch with Hailey, waiting for me.
Chapter Nineteen
The Retreat
October 3, 2000
I’ve got him,” Eszter shouted. Parvaneh saw a rush of movement up ahead and to her left. She sprinted toward it.
“Let go!” shrieked Xerxes. “Let go, you big pig!”
“We have to take you back,” Eszter huffed, trying to control the boy as he smacked at her face and kicked at her belly. “Parvaneh, help me!”
Parvaneh rushed up to them and grabbed Xerxes around the middle, wrenching him away from Eszter. But the boy’s legs pinwheeled wildly, landing a few hard kicks to Eszter’s body. She moaned and sank to her knees. Parvaneh wrapped her arms around Xerxes, holding him so tight that he began to scream that he couldn’t breathe even as he continued to kick wildly. Angry now, she clamped her hand over his mouth and twisted around to hike back to the van. “Are you okay?” she called back to Eszter.
“Right behind you,” Eszter said weakly.
Parvaneh picked her way back to the road, ignoring the struggling bundle in her arms. Be numb, she told herself. Do your job. No doubt. Darius needs you. She chanted these things in her mind, one word for each step, over and over, feeling the poke of the meditation rock in the pocket of her robe with each lurching movement from her captive.
The crunch of footsteps behind her told her Eszter wasn’t trailing that much. Up ahead, she could hear moans, choked sobs, and…arguing?
“Did they catch her?” Eszter asked as she caught up. She was holding her distended belly with both hands, breathing hard.
“You guys there?” Ladonna called. “We need some help.” Her voice sounded odd. Flat.
Parvaneh paused about ten feet behind the van. Xerxes wasn’t struggling much now, just whimpering. He had probably completely exhausted himself over the last few hours. His warm weight was oddly comforting. “Can you go up there and help them?” she asked Eszter.
“I’m not…sure,” Eszter said, grimacing as she rubbed her side.
“Fine.” Parvaneh marched up to the van. “Get in. He’s calmer now. Just hold him. I’ll help Ladonna.”
Eszter climbed in, and Parvaneh handed over the limp boy. She watched the two for a moment, taking in the misery on each of their faces. Then she faced front and marched around the van, steeling herself.
It didn’t help.
Octavia lay in the gravel perhaps fifteen feet away, blood matted in her long, blond hair. Ladonna stood over her, arms slack at her sides.
“The baby,” said Parvaneh.
“I’ve got her,” Zana said from the other side of the van. She moved forward into the light, cradling a bundle in her arms.
“What happened?” asked Parvaneh.
Ladonna glanced at Zana. “Octavia threw the baby onto the road.”
“No she didn—” Zana began but snapped her mouth shut as Ladonna took a quick step toward her.
“And then she stepped right in front of the van,” Ladonna continued. “I didn’t want to hit her, but I also didn’t want to hit Parisa. It was like she made me…”
Zana shifted her weight. She looked uncomfortable, unable to meet Ladonna’s gaze.
“You’re saying she forced you to run over her,” Parvaneh said.
Ladonna’s big, brown eyes were flinty. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“What are we going to do with the body?”
Just as she asked, Octavia made a retching sound. “Oh my god,” Parvaneh said, walking toward the sprawled body. “She’s still alive?”
Parvaneh squatted next to Octavia and murmured her name. Octavia groaned, and her fingers spread over the gravel, like she was reaching for something. “We have to get her to a hospital,” said Parvaneh.
“What?” Ladonna stalked over to them. “No. That is not the plan.”
Parvaneh stood up. “She’s hurt, but she’s not dead. She might live if we get her to a hospital.”
“You don’t think the cops’ll be asking questions once we get there?”
“You just said she stepped in front of the van. So that’s what we tell them.”
“They won’t believe us. And if you tell them I was driving? You think anyone’s gonna give a Black lady the benefit of the doubt in this situation? You realize this is Oregon, right?”
“Fine! We’ll tell them I was driving,” Parvaneh said. “But we should take her.”
Ladonna’s eyes narrowed. “What do you think Darius would say about that?”
“You think he’d want her to die?”
“You heard what he said—she was trying to destroy us from both the outside and the inside.” She gestured down at Octavia. “If we take her to a hospital and get everyone in town wrapped up in our business, how is that not destroying us from the outside? Besides, if she survives and decides to tell everyone we’re the bad guys, how’s that going to go for us? So now we bring her back. Pick up her legs.”
Parvaneh’s stomach turned, and she took a step back, shaking her head. “I can’t,” she whispered, looking down at Octavia, remembering her kindness, the way she enfolded her children in her arms. She looked back at the van. “Xerxes…”
“You think this is easy for Darius?” snapped Ladonna. “Didn’t you see how much it hurt him to have her turn on us like this? Don’t make it harder.”
She was right. She’d held him in the night as he lay racked with the pain of betraya
l and the stress of leading all of them through the darkness. “Okay,” she muttered. “But we can’t let Xerxes see—”
“We can put her in the back.” Ladonna pointed at Zana. “Go open up the rear doors, and then get in the van. And stop whimpering, for God’s sake. You’d think someone hit you with the damn van.”
Zana did as Ladonna asked.
Octavia’s body seemed irreparably broken. Twisted in impossible ways. Parvaneh whispered her apology and promised to take care as she positioned herself behind Octavia’s legs and slid her arms under the woman’s knees. Ladonna did the same with Octavia’s upper body, cradling her bleeding head in the crook of her elbow. “All right,” said Ladonna. “Up on three.”
She counted. They rose, Octavia sagging in the middle, blood dripping from her head wound. Tears stung Parvaneh’s eyes as they hustled their fellow Oracle to the back of the van. In the middle seats, she could hear Xerxes sleepily asking where his mother was and Eszter murmuring that she had gone to bed and that was where they were taking him too.
“She said we were going to a new place,” he replied.
“She changed her mind,” Eszter said quietly. “She wants us to take care of you.”
The ride back to the compound was silent. Xerxes and baby Parisa had fallen asleep. Only Zana’s sniffling breaths cut the quiet, along with the occasional muffled gurgle from the back, but Parvaneh told herself it was her imagination, brewing up a living nightmare. The air was heavy with a dreamy sort of shock.
As Ladonna pulled into the clearing, the headlights revealed a small crowd waiting for them, milling around outside the meeting and dining halls. Darius strode forward as soon as the van stopped, frowning at its grill. He plucked a lock of long, blond hair from the front. His eyes met Ladonna’s through the windshield.
“Eszter and Zana,” said Ladonna, not taking her eyes off Darius, “take the babies to bed and then join us in the meeting hall. Parvaneh, you’re with me.”
Parvaneh reminded herself to breathe. When she heard Ladonna’s door slam, she willed herself into action, climbing out of the van and heading to the back again, where Ladonna was already telling Darius what had happened. “I don’t know if she wanted to die or what. Certainly seemed like it.”
Parvaneh wasn’t sure she believed the story, but Darius didn’t question it. “Maybe the consciousness moved inside of her. This was supposed to happen, as sad as it makes me.” He looked over his shoulder at Kazem and Tadeas. “Take Octavia to the altar. We all need the wisdom she can channel.”
Kazem looked uncertain. “But if she was destroying us, how can you be sure what we channel is—”
“Death is when the consciousness reaches up to reclaim its essence,” Darius said loudly. “And Octavia is offering us this gift.”
He was saying he knew she was going to die, and they weren’t going to help her. Instead, they were going to use her. Parvaneh stepped back as Tadeas and Kazem approached. Darius caught her eye. “You’re upset about all of this.”
“Of course I am.”
“Ladonna told me you wanted to take her to a hospital.”
She looked away. “We’re here, aren’t we?”
“Are you?” he asked, drawing near. “I’m not sure you’re here at all.”
“I just think we should help her,” she murmured.
“Even if it hurts all your fellow Oracles?” he asked. “Even if it hurts me?” His fingers caressed her cheek.
She met his gaze.
He stared at her for a long moment. “Stand with me as we channel her energy. This is the price of her rebellion but also the payment of a debt. We can’t waste that.”
She followed Darius to the meeting hall, where everyone else had already gathered. The candles were lit; the air was perfumed and dense, like a second skin.
As Darius approached, the group moved like one organism, reaching out to touch him, even while peering skittishly at Octavia, who lay, partially untwisted now, on the altar. Her bloody hair covered her face. Parvaneh wondered if Kazem or Tadeas had done that on purpose, unable to look at what had happened to a woman they’d known so well. Octavia had seemed like the mother of them all, just as Darius had been their leader, their father.
Darius mounted the stairs, and Parvaneh joined him. Hesitantly, she put a hand on Octavia’s back. She looked up at Darius, hoping he would quicken the process, just as she suspected he’d done with Ziba, just as he’d guided her to do with Shirin. In this moment, Parvaneh realized it was a mercy, helping them along. He was doing something beautiful, in a way, even with all the ugliness he’d been handed.
And now it was really ugly. Blood seeped from Octavia’s head wound, skin peeled back and torn, bone chips mixed with a few white flecks in the red mess of her hair. No hospital could fix this. Ladonna had made the right call, and Parvaneh’s instincts had been all wrong. She only wished Ladonna hadn’t told Darius about her moment of doubt.
Parvaneh glanced at the back of the meeting hall to see Eszter slowly making her way to the front. She looked exhausted, holding her belly like it had become heavier than she could bear.
Parvaneh closed her eyes, knowing she should focus and meditate, unable to think anything except Please, please, let this be over soon. She hoped Octavia was moving toward a vast golden light, one that didn’t judge every mistake but instead offered a forever home, a forever oneness. Time seemed suspended, hanging over them like the blade of one of those guillotines that chopped off a head cleanly. She craved a neat break, a sharp moment of before and after when they knew Octavia was gone, but this was more like a slow leak.
The sound of a stifled sob finally drew Parvaneh’s head up. Beneath her palm, Octavia’s skin had grown cooler. But it was Eszter who looked cold, pale as a ghost, sheen of sweat on her brow. For a second, Parvaneh thought she might be having an experience, a soul-shaking encounter with the presence that had given all of them life.
But then she realized: Eszter was not okay. She was leaning on the altar as if she couldn’t stand on her own. Her eyes were open, bulging out of her round face while her fingers grasped at the hem of Octavia’s torn, muddy robe. Parvaneh touched Darius, nodding toward Eszter as soon as he looked at her.
Concern darkened his eyes. “Eszter?”
She shook her head and began to sink to the floor. Kazem, standing next to her, felt her movement and turned to catch her. When he looked down, he barked, “Darius.”
Darius and Parvaneh rushed around the altar, and Parvaneh went cold. Blood had pooled between Eszter’s feet. She was clutching at her belly.
At the baby who wasn’t due for another two months.
Chapter Twenty
Bend, Oregon
December 12, present day
Making sure my bag is zipped, I carefully get out of my car. The faster my heart beats, the more my wrist hurts, and seeing Ladonna and Hailey together sends it over 130 per minute. I approach cautiously, noting Hailey’s smile and Ladonna’s—Essie’s—lack thereof.
“Hi, Hailey,” I say as I reach the porch. “And hi, Essie. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Essie and I have known each other for a few years,” Hailey says. “I was still working at the hospital when they hired her.” She pats Essie’s arm. “She’s the first face hurting patients see when they come to the ED. Always a smile, but she also knows exactly how to triage and get people where they need to go.”
My eyes meet Essie’s. I know full well what she’s capable of. But I’m not supposed to know her at all, so I smile and say, “That was certainly the case last night.”
“I figured you’d be tucked into your bed and resting, Ms. Dora, but I see you’re on your feet today,” says Essie, focusing on my bag. “Busy, busy.”
“It’s just my wrist,” I reply as it throbs. “I can do my job with a cast.”
“And what is your job exactly, if you do
n’t mind my asking?”
“She’s a copy editor and fact-checker for an online news magazine,” Hailey says. Her proud and hopeful expression makes my chest ache.
“News magazine?” Essie’s eyes go just a bit wider. “Is that what brought you back to Bend after so many years of giving your mom the silent treatment? Because I didn’t realize that Hailey’s daughter named Christy was actually you last night!” Her tone is pleasant enough, but the words make me want to scream.
“Yeah,” I say, staring her down. “Name changes can really be confusing, am I right?”
Her smirk dissolves. “And you’re in town for work?”
“She’s working on a story about the Oracles of Innocence anniversary,” Hailey says. “Almost twenty years. Can you believe it, Essie? Were you in the area at the time?”
“Hadn’t moved down from Portland yet,” Essie says, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Finally on the defensive.
I tilt my head. “Nice of you to stop by, but did you want something in particular?”
“I was on my way to work, but I wanted to see how you were doing,” Essie says. Her hand is in the pocket of her scrubs, fisted. “Just checking in.” Her eyes narrow. “You’re looking a lot more energetic than anyone expected.”
“No rest for the wicked,” I say.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Essie says, glancing at Hailey. “Would you mind if I spoke to Dora privately? I actually had a question about her insurance. You know how strict everyone is these days about confidentiality! I wouldn’t want to get in trouble.”
Hailey waves her off. “No problem at all. But don’t be a stranger, Essie. I’ve missed hearing your laugh. We should get together sometime soon for coffee or lunch.”
“I’d love that,” says Essie, waving as Hailey goes back in the house. As soon as the door shuts, Essie rounds on me, nostrils flared. “What the hell kind of stupid game are you playing?”