Moving Target

by Christina Diaz Gonzalez

  “Uh-huh. But what does that mean exactly?” I asked, humoring him. I leaned forward to look at a picture of a yellowed scroll with strange lettering all over it.

  “It means that with the spearhead, and some proper training, you’d be able to see different scenarios for events you want to influence and you could choose which one to follow. No one except a marked descendant can do that. There are only a handful of you born every generation.”

  “So there are others,” I said, happy to hear that I wasn’t alone.

  “There used to be.”

  “Oh.” I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  “Cassandra, you have to understand. For anyone else the spearhead is just a sharp piece of metal. It holds no power. But with a marked descendant, it’s different. One descendant at a time can access the power and become bound to it for life.”

  “Bound?” I thought back to the line in the old notebook. The Guardian will be bound for life once the spearhead is used.

  “Yes. The power can only be accessed by a single marked descendant at a time. Once the spearhead is used, no one—not even another marked descendant—can use it until …”

  “Until?”

  Brother Gregorio leaned back in his chair. “Until that person dies. Once the bound descendant dies, the power becomes dormant until another marked descendant is united with the spearhead.”

  “And this power, it’s dormant right now?”

  A pained expression crossed the old monk’s face. “Not exactly.” He adjusted his robe. “Remember how I mentioned that the Hastati have taken action to make sure no one uses the spear? Well, a man named Tobias is still bound to the spear, but he has been in a coma for many years and isn’t doing well.” Brother Gregorio sighed. “When he dies, the power will be up for grabs by any marked descendant who comes in contact with the spear.”

  “But maybe someone good will get the power. Why do the Hastati have to control it?”

  “It’s too much power. Even Tobias became corrupted.” He paused and looked away for moment. “You have to understand, Tobias was at one time very well respected among the Hastati … he was a good man. But something happened to him. He kept using the spear … he became obsessed with the idea that he could make the world a better place.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” I could tell there was more to the story.

  “Everything. He eventually decided that the only way to save the world was by destroying it and starting over. He thought that if he eliminated most people on earth, then we’d return to a more peaceful existence. A fresh start, he’d say.”

  “Wow.” This was some major, delusional stuff. “He sounds crazy.”

  “Yes, well … like I said before, the power can be consuming.” He took a deep breath. “And now, despite everyone’s best efforts, it appears that he will soon die and the spear’s power will become available again. That’s why you are so valuable and why the Hastati can’t risk having you fall into the wrong hands.”

  “So they’d rather just have me killed even if they wouldn’t kill crazy Tobias?”

  Brother Gregorio gave me a slight nod. “But don’t worry, you are safe here. As long as you’re within these walls, you will receive sanctuary and the Hastati will not harm you.” He reached into a drawer, pulled out a small box, and slid it toward me. “But you must wear this at all times. You must never take it off.”

  Inside the box was an antique silver ring that looked a lot like the one I’d seen Asher wearing. Lifting it up, I noticed that the left side was etched with a spear, the right had a goblet, and in the middle was a shiny black stone.

  “Why? Is there something magical about it?”

  “It’s more like insurance. Something to give me peace of mind, and in exchange I will grant you protection from the Hastati while you are here. It is not much to ask. But you have to promise to keep it on.” He waited for me to answer.

  “Sure.” I slipped it over my finger, thinking I could always take it off later. “This is like the one Asher wears,” I said. “That must mean he is being protected also.”

  “You noticed.” Brother Gregorio smiled. “You are very observant for one so young.” He paused. “He wears his for other reasons. But for you, it will keep you out of harm’s way.”

  I didn’t like the idea of depending on an old monk and strange jewelry to keep me safe. “Can’t I just move back to the US after you find my father? Disappear over there.” I twisted the ring around my finger.

  “There is no disappearing when it comes to the Hastati. Their reach goes to the highest levels of power throughout the world, and they have people who can harm you everywhere. You are only safe in a few places.”

  “But how can you know for sure?” I tugged on the ring, but it didn’t budge.

  “I used to be Hastati, and I can assure you that they will respect the confines of this place. And your father”—he crinkled his eyes as he stared straight at me—“I know he would want you safe. So you will stay here and wear the ring.”

  “I guess,” I muttered.

  “This is not a game, Cassandra. You must not leave. You would be in danger anywhere else.” He closed the books on his desk and heaved everything back on the shelves.

  “So basically, I’m a prisoner.” The ring was feeling more like a handcuff.

  “No, no. Of course not. You are free to go elsewhere, but I can’t guarantee your safety anywhere but here.” Brother Gregorio leaned back to observe me. “I can see the fire in your eyes, Cassandra. Smoldering just beneath the surface. It reminds me of …” He didn’t finish the sentence.

  “My father?” I asked, although up until today I’d always thought of him as cautious and careful. Definitely an artist who painted his life with muted colors.

  “Well, yes. I do believe I see a little of him in you.” He adjusted the top of his brown robe. “Felipe was … is … such a determined man. You know he’s been searching for the spear for years in order to exchange it for your safety. And I think he was close to finding it.”

  My hand skimmed over the top of my messenger bag. Inside was one of the notebooks my father had given me. Was there information about the location of the spear inside? I wanted to pull it out and read it, but I wasn’t sure if this was something I should share with Brother Gregorio. Maybe it was better to talk it over with Simone first.

  Brother Gregorio was watching me carefully. “Are you sure Felipe didn’t mention anything else?” he asked, his fingers laced and resting over his large belly.

  I hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Actually, there was something.”

  Brother Gregorio leaned forward. “Yes?”

  “Well, right after my father got shot he did give me this old notebook … written in Latin and some other languages. I recognized the word Hastati and it talked about a Guardian being bound for life.”

  Brother Gregorio straightened up. “The Guardian’s Journal?” His voice became more excited. “He found it? Let me see.”

  “I don’t know. It might be that. It’s just … there’s a problem.” I bit my lip, hating to admit my own mistake, but thinking that Brother Gregorio might help get the book. “In all the craziness at Simone’s apartment, it got left behind.”

  The old monk’s shoulders dropped. “Fine, I will see what we can do to get it back.”

  He shuffled toward the door and then paused. He looked back at me still sitting motionless in the chair. “Cassandra, are you all right?”

  I moved my hand away from the messenger bag and stayed quiet about the other notebook. My father’s warning not to trust anyone echoed in my brain. For now, that would have to include Brother Gregorio.

  I nodded and slowly got up.

  “I know this is a lot to take in, but I will have Asher show you to your room, where you can rest and gather your thoughts. In the meantime, I will try my best to find Felipe and the Guardian’s Journal. Just be patient.” He gave me the slightest smile, the tip of his beard shifting as the corners of his mouth
went up. “Asher and I will find him, Cassandra … and eventually the spear.”

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “How does finding the spear help me?” I asked.

  “Because once the Hastati Council has the spear, then they will have no reason to come after you or any of the marked ones. The Hastati aren’t monsters … just misguided people who are trying to protect the world from a greater evil. Sacrificing a few for the benefit of many. It’s nothing personal.”

  My dad had been shot, there were assassins everywhere in the world trying to kill me, and yet this guy expected me to sit around and wait for things to get better?

  Brother Gregorio was wrong. This was completely personal. And that meant I had to come up with my own plan.

  Asher walked a few paces ahead of me, and Simone trailed behind both of us. We were on the second floor in the open-air breezeway with the lush garden down below. The walls, made of old stone blocks, were bare except for the occasional tapestry that seemed to date back to the Middle Ages and a few portraits of various saints being martyred in one fashion or another.

  “So are you going to tell me what the old guy said?” Simone whispered, having caught up to me. “And what’s with the new jewelry?”

  I pulled on the ring to show her, but found myself unable to get it off. “I’ll tell you,” I said, motioning over to Asher. “When we’re alone.”

  “Fine, but do you really think we’ll be safe here?” She gazed up at the twilit sky above. “I mean, it’s not like there are armed guards surrounding the place.”

  “If he says you’re safe, then you are,” Asher answered without turning around or breaking his stride.

  “Wow, nice eavesdropping,” Simone muttered, but Asher didn’t respond. “Is this real?” she asked, pausing in front of one of the paintings that had caught her eye.

  “A real Caravaggio? It can’t be.” I stopped in front of the dark, gruesome painting of Salome with the head of John the Baptist on a platter.

  “Why not?” Asher questioned me. “Not all of Caravaggio’s paintings are in museums.”

  I got closer to the canvas and pointed to Salome’s dress. “I know that, but the strokes right here … they’re uneven. See?”

  Asher pursed his lips as if noticing the fault for the first time.

  “What about this one?” Asher walked over to another painting.

  I studied the painting of an old man. “Hm, looks like a pretty decent copy of a Tiziano.”

  “Interesting.” Asher smiled. “You called him Tiziano and not Titian like most people. You do know your art, Cassandra.”

  “My dad is an art history professor, so some of it is bound to rub off on me,” I explained. “And call me Cassie. Everyone does.”

  “Art nerds unite,” Simone said, loud enough for us to hear even though she was still staring at the painting of Salome. “So none of this is real art?” she remarked as she made her way back to us. “They’re all fakes.”

  “Well, it’s real art.” Asher tensed up. “Just not the original masterpieces.”

  Something about how he said the words real art stood out. “Did you paint them?” I touched the corner of the gold frame around the Tiziano look-alike.

  Asher pulled at the collar of his gray polo, stretching it out around his Adam’s apple. He stuck his hands in his jeans, shifted his weight from foot to foot, and gave me a slight nod.

  “They’re really good,” I said, admiring the skill it had taken to make the paintings. “A strong balance between light and dark. My dad always says that’s the key.”

  “Thanks.”

  Simone cleared her throat. “Can we finish up the art tour a little later?”

  “Certainly,” Asher said through clenched teeth and a fake smile. He walked a few more steps and opened a large door made of heavy wooden planks held together by a slender iron plate that wrapped around the top and bottom. “This is your room, Cassie.” He held the door back and turned on the chandelier.

  The room itself was larger than I expected and it looked like a mix of medieval and modern with an old-style canopy bed across from a flat-screen TV.

  Simone walked over to one of two narrow windows, pulled aside the large red velvet curtains that draped to the floor, and peered out.

  “Not much of a view,” she commented. I could see the wall of the neighboring building from where I stood.

  “Mm-hm.” Asher pointed at the bed. “That’s yours, and I put a fold-up cot next to it since you brought … company.” He opened a narrow door in the corner. “This is your private bathroom, and there is a small suitcase with some of your clothes next to that chest of drawers.”

  I almost didn’t hear him. My attention was drawn to the small nightstand that had a framed photo of my father and me that we took when we first moved to Rome. “Wait.” I spun around to face him. “How did you get that picture? And my clothes?”

  Asher shrugged. “I’m guessing your father sent them over.” He paused. “You didn’t know?”

  “Of course she didn’t know,” Simone called out from across the room. “Why do you think she’s asking?”

  Asher’s eyes locked with mine. I felt like he was trying to read me … to make some connection. But there was no way I was going to reveal anything to someone I’d just met. I stared blankly right back at him.

  “By the way, what exactly do you do here, Asher?” Simone asked. “Are you like the help or something?”

  Asher pulled away from our staring contest. “No. I’m not the help,” he said dryly. “What’s your purpose here?” He chuckled. “Oh, right, you don’t have one.”

  Simone’s eyes blazed with pent-up anger.

  “I think you should go now,” I said to Asher.

  “Yes, go.” Simone dismissively waved him off. “Now.”

  Asher hesitated for a moment. “Cassie, if you need anything, just let me know. I’ll be down the hall.”

  “She needs to find her father. Can you help her with that?” Simone raised one of her perfectly arched eyebrows and, before he could reply, she added, “Didn’t think so.”

  An uneasy silence hung in the air.

  I stood motionless; my thoughts were flying in different directions. How long had my father known I’d be coming here, and when had he planned to tell me? Did he plan on just dumping me here while he went off to hunt for the spear? Where was he right now? Was he alive or … no, I couldn’t even think of the alternative. I just needed to find him and that spear thing. I could set things straight just like he was planning to do by returning it to the Hastati. Then, if what Brother Gregorio said was true, they’d leave us alone.

  “Earth to Cassie, come in, Cassie.”

  “Huh?” I said, noticing that Simone was now sitting in a wingback chair by the bed and that Asher was gone.

  “You were staring off into space.”

  “Oh, yeah. Just thinking.”

  “So-o-o-o … we’re alone. Are you going to give me a hint to what’s going on?”

  “Hold on,” I said, making sure no one was in the breezeway before closing the door.

  Simone sat on the edge of her seat … literally. Another inch and she’d fall off and hit the floor. I plopped down on the bed, which creaked with my every move.

  “It’s all pretty bizarre, so just go with it, okay?”

  Simone nodded.

  “No snide remarks or comments until I tell you everything?”

  “When have I—?” Simone stopped herself as I cocked my head to the side and gave her a look.

  “Fine.” She pretended to lock her mouth and throw away the key.

  I told her everything I could remember. Not holding back on any detail. By the end, for the first time in all the months I’d known her, Simone appeared dumbfounded.

  “Well?” I asked. “What do you think? Crazy, right? But the weird thing is that I kinda believe it. All of it.”

  Simone slowly nodded.

  “You can talk now.” I waited.

  Nothing.


  “Seriously, say something. Even if it’s ‘I’m out of here.’ I need to know what you’re thinking.”

  She stared at me as if we’d just met.

  “So you’re supposed to be like a superhero or something,” she said.

  This was what she was thinking? “No, no. I think it’s more like a recessive gene that pops up out of nowhere. Like having eyes that are two different colors.”

  “No. This is more than that.” Simone bit the edge of her nail. “If you connect with the spear, you can do stuff like control the future, right? And there are people who want to kill you to make sure you don’t do that. That’s pretty much a superpower.”

  “Nah, you know me, I’m not superhero material.” I hesitated before saying the next sentence, but it had to be done. “But, you are right about the being-hunted thing. I think you should probably go. It really isn’t safe to be around me.”

  “No way!” She shook her head. “I’m not leaving you here with two strangers and some goofy ring to keep you safe. Besides, don’t you find it weird that the bearded monk lives here like a hermit with a young guy and no one else?”

  “Maybe Asher is a monk-in-training or something.”

  “Doesn’t look like any monk I’ve ever seen. Plus, he could be a creeper. There are good-looking and charming sociopaths out there, you know. So, as long as you’re here, I’m here.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m thinking of not being here, either. I want to go out and find the spear on my own.”

  Simone stopped chewing her fingernail. “Really? Even though you’d be a huge target the moment you leave? You’d take that risk?”

  “I have to … it’s my dad,” I said. “Plus, the Hastati don’t have to know that I’ve left. And don’t the self-defense people always say that it’s harder to hit a moving target? Staying here makes me a sitting duck, no matter what Brother Gregorio says.”