“I could not have said it better,” the leader responded. “Let me finish with a prayer, then Naomi will lead us in a song and we’ll go.”
He closed his eyes and bowed his head and began to speak. Everyone else in the room did the same…everyone but me. It was the perfect chance to figure out who these people were. The group ranged in age from teens to grandparents, and their clothes marked some as professionals and a few as homeless, or close to it. Religious meetings like this were against the law because they could not be monitored. No wonder they’d made me shut down V, but I could still report this. At least that gave me some leverage if things went bad.
Suddenly the group all started to speak together. “Our father who art in heaven,” they began. I thought I’d heard the words before. Their voices were solemn as they spoke on. It brought back an old memory of a rabbi’s voice. “Amen.” They finally finished together and opened their eyes.
“Naomi?” the leader said.
She stood and stepped carefully through the seated people to the front of the room. She turned to face us. “I think tonight we should end with Be Thou My Vision. Okay?”
The group murmured approval. She cleared her throat lightly and began, “Be thou my vision…”
Her voice had even more power in person. As the verses rolled on, I didn’t care what words she sang, or what cult she followed. I just wanted to hear her sing. Her pitch rose and fell in beautiful arcs as her face and shoulders and chest breathed in and out. She locked her eyes on mine, and I drank deep of her smile. Eventually her song came to an end and the room fell quiet.
“That’s it everyone,” the leader announced. “See you all next week. God bless.”
The room began to stir and the murmur of conversation grew.
“Elijah, your presence is a gift,” said the large man beside me. He put his hand on my shoulder, breaking me out of the spell from Naomi’s song. “I would love to hear more of your dreams. Will you come to my office now?” His eager eyes searched mine.
“Well,” I began, trying to find the right way to say no.
“Bart, this is Elijah.” Naomi had rushed back to us. “Elijah, this is Bart. I would very much like for you two to talk. I will come, too. Please, Elijah?” She looked at me with a look that was hard to turn down.
“Okay,” I said. I’d already come this far. I might as well hear what this guy had to say about my dreams.
“I’m Moses.” Naomi’s father appeared beside me, holding out his hand. I reached out and shook it. His hand was at least twice the size of mine, and twice as strong.
I’d seen him in V’s report on Naomi, but it was different meeting in person. I couldn’t believe I was standing in front of the man. He had shocked the sports world when he retired from basketball after only five years as a pro. He’d been one of my childhood heroes at Madison Square Garden.
“Moses Parish?” I asked. “The Moses Parish?”
“That’s me.” He shrugged his giant shoulders. “I played hoops a few years before getting on with God’s work. The missionary field is my true calling. If what Naomi says is right, maybe you’ll learn your true calling soon enough. Where are you from?”
“New Yor—” I began but Naomi interrupted.
“Daddy, Elijah is here to talk to Bart about a dream. We don’t want to overwhelm him.”
The tall man smiled at her and nodded. Then he turned to Bart. “You take it easy on him. Not everyone is as eager to talk about dreams as you are.”
“Oh, I will,” Bart said. “If he’s who I think, we’ll have plenty to discuss. Things the whole world should know.”
“Well, don’t jump to any conclusions,” Moses said, turning to me. “Nice to meet you, Elijah. Hope to see you around here again.”
“You too,” I replied, still in awe. For once, I would’ve been glad to talk to a girl’s dad a little longer.
But Naomi whisked me away after Bart.
NAOMI AND I followed Bart down the hall. He had a huge ring of keys clanking at his hip. He moved with a forceful sense of purpose.
Maybe Naomi was doing all this just to test whether I trusted her. Maybe she was taking lessons from the Captain. Or maybe she was as honest and pure as she looked, wanting to help me with the dreams.
“Here we are,” Bart announced, stopping before a door near the end of the hall. He grabbed his ring of keys and flipped through them until he found one that looked medieval. He unlocked the door and walked in.
It was a tiny office. Two chairs were crammed in front of a desk covered in books with yellowed pages and a chalk-white human skull. The walls were made of the same stone as the outside of the Cathedral. Weirdest of all were the candles. At least a dozen of them flickered and gave off a pale light. I realized there were no lights on the ceiling. There were no signs of electricity. I felt like I was in a castle dungeon.
“Bart is a member of an ancient order,” Naomi said. She must have seen the fear or confusion or whatever else was on my face.
“You sure we can’t head out for some ice cream?” I asked, half joking. There was only so far I’d go for a girl I’d known three days, even a beautiful one.
“Maybe later,” she teased, “but I promise you’ll be interested in what Bart has to say. He studies old ways, visions and dreams. He can help you.”
“Where were you born, Elijah?” Bart had taken his seat. He was leaning forward with a hungry look in his eyes.
“New York, Upper East Side.”
“Where was your father born?”
“Jerusalem. Why does that matter?”
“What is your mother’s maiden name?”
“Why do you want to know?” I asked. “You haven’t even told me what’s going on here. For all I know this is another ISA test and you’re trying to crack into my precept.”
“Your precept is off, and do I look like a hacker?” Bart asked, dead serious. He looked nothing like a hacker, or even like someone who owned a phone. He sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his belly. “I’m the exception, Elijah. I’m the resistance, the stodgy man who refuses a precept. Please, sit, both of you.”
Naomi and I sat in the chairs opposite Bart.
“So you’ve had disturbing dreams?” he asked.
“Haven’t we all?” I countered.
He shook his head. “If Naomi brought you here, your dreams are not like others’ dreams.”
“That’s true,” Naomi agreed, turning to me, “but I have not shared a word of what you dreamed. They are yours to reveal or not. I just told Bart that your dreams would be of great interest, and he asked to see you. You can trust him, I promise. If you doubt me, just take a moment to study what’s around us.” She motioned to our surroundings and laughed softly. “There’s not an ounce of technology from the past hundred years. The ISA couldn’t stand a place like this.”
She was right. From the looks of things, this old man still read by candlelight. “What’s with the skull?” I asked.
“Saint Jerome.” Bart looked at me expectantly and probably saw a blank stare on my face. “You don’t know Saint Jerome?”
I shook my head.
“He’s a saint of my order. He kept a skull, too. Memonto mori, it is said. Remember that you will die.”
“I’d rather not,” I said. “I’m alive now, and that’s enough for me. Better to live than to worry about dying.”
“Ah, but to remember is not to worry. Death brings no fear for me. Your dreams, however, those might make me fear.” He paused, light blue eyes locked on my face. “Please, tell me about them.”
I looked at Naomi. She nodded encouragingly. I saw little harm in it, and maybe I was kind of starting to feel curious about what this strange man would say. So I recounted my dreams as I had with Naomi—the dragon and all that I’d seen in Rome.
Bart took notes with a pen while I talked. Another person writing on paper—what a weird week. Bart did not interrupt me, but his face took on intrigued expressions at certain points. When
I described the man who walked towards the dragon, Bart looked as if his archenemy was walking towards him with a gun. By the end, Bart had filled half a page with notes and cryptic drawings.
“Thank you.” He stopped scribbling. “Anything else?”
“No,” I answered, “thankfully I found some dream pills that seem to work.”
“No more of those!” he snapped. “Your dreams are priceless, and indeed essential. Give me your word.”
“What? That I won’t take some pills?”
He nodded.
I didn’t feel like having more nightmares, but the pills weren’t a sure thing anyway. “I’ll hold off on them for a while,” I said.
“I guess that’ll do for now,” he sighed. “Now, I’d like to ask you some questions.” He sounded eager to dissect me.
“Fine, but I’m not promising any answers. They’re just dreams.”
“Just dreams,” Bart smiled, “until they become real.” He put down his pen and leaned forward with his elbows on the desk. “You said there were storms. Was it warm outside?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think hard.”
“I don’t remember.”
“Were you wearing a jacket?”
“A jacket?”
He nodded.
“Yeah, a tweed sports coat.”
“Were there flowers?”
“I don’t know, maybe. What’s the point?”
“When?” he drawled out. “I’m trying to figure out when this happened.”
“It didn’t happen. It was a dream.”
“You said the city was crowded. Was the piazza full?”
“There were a lot of people. More than I could count.”
Naomi spoke next, “It could be Holy W—”
Bart held up his pudgy hand to stop her. I noticed for the first time a thick ring on his thumb, made of some skin-colored composite.
“No one knows the time,” Bart said, but his excited smile made me think he knew more than he was saying. “Next time you have the dream, you will come to me that very day.”
“We’ll see,” I said. “Do you think it means something?”
“I do, but you don’t.”
“So tell me what you think.”
“Not tonight.” His tone allowed no debate. “I will tell you more after the next one.”
“What makes you think I’ll have the dream again?”
“You will, because it is meant to be.” His answer was as certain as the skull on his desk was dead.
“So what if I do? What makes you think I’ll come back?”
“You want to know more, and I can give you answers. Plus—” he glanced at Naomi, and then at me again—“how many boys do you think have tried to court her?”
I flushed.
“You’re clever, Elijah, but I’ve been around a lot longer than you have. She wants you to come next time you have the dream, right Naomi?”
She nodded. “Please?” she asked.
I tried not to notice how good she looked in the candlelight. “We’ll see,” I said. “I don’t think I’ll have the dream again.”
“What’s your mother’s maiden name?” Bart repeated his earlier question.
“None of your business,” I replied. My mom had been dead ten years, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk about her with this man.
“My business is helping you, so that you can do your business. What’s her maiden name?” he demanded.
“Roeh. You happy now?”
Bart shook his head no. “Now I’m scared. You will have another dream, only next time it will be worse.”
“Worse?” I asked.
“Worse,” he said. “And then you’ll start to believe. You two will come to me, and we will talk more.”
Despite my attempts at denial, Bart was right. The dream came again that night.
THE CREATURE’S RED eyes locked on me. Just like last time, I was on the ground looking out over St. Peter’s Basilica in crumbles and the piazza in chaos. The man was standing beside the dragon. He was the finest looking man I had ever seen. His clothes were modern and trim. His face was cut from an advertisement. It was a face I knew.
Suddenly the creature turned from me to the man, making me feel like a heavy blackness had lifted. The creature spoke. It was almost like words, but not in any language I had heard. The man nodded as if he understood. Then he walked towards me.
I wanted to move, but I could not. The red eyes were on me again. The heavy blackness was on me again.
“Elijah.” It was Naomi’s voice. She was beside me.
“Elijah,” she repeated. “He is coming at us.”
It took every ounce of will to turn to her. She was sitting on the ground with her legs crossed, hugging herself. Her face and body strained forward, as if a thousand invisible cords tied her down.
“We can’t move,” I said.
“I know. He’s here.”
“Naomi.” The man was standing over us. He was tall and thin. The only wide thing about him was his smile. It stretched across his face in sheer delight.
“No!” Naomi shouted, straining against whatever held her down.
“Naomi, dear Naomi, you know better than to speak to me.” He was waving his finger in disapproval. “Quiet now,” he ordered.
Her lips sealed tight. The look on her eyes was one of both sheer terror and defeat.
“Elijah, I’m afraid we have not met.” The man’s voice was smooth and welcoming. He held out his hand to me. “I’m Abaddon, but call me Don.”
His gentle words thawed my frozen muscles so that I could move. I flexed my hand and my arm. I began to reach up to shake his hand.
“NO!” Naomi’s scream shattered the vision like a rock through glass.
I awoke covered in sweat. Not a good start to my Thursday.
I tried not to think of the dream as I went through my morning routine. I tried not to think of it as I walked to breakfast. I tried not to think of it as I greeted Charles and Patrick. But the dream was still there, boiling under the surface of my subconscious, its vapors drifting up, swirling with Bart’s warning, and clouding my thoughts.
“So, only two days left in our first week,” Patrick said as he chomped his eggs, “and seems like you and Naomi are already a thing.” He was studying me.
“I don’t know about that,” I replied. I could still hear her terrified scream in my mind. “It’s complicated. We’re not exactly each other’s type, you know.” I hid behind a long drink of milk.
“Oh I think she’s your type,” Charles chimed in, “with those long legs and wholesome round…eyes, you know.”
“Enough,” I said, failing to suppress a tiny smile.
“Hey, I just tell it like it is.” Charles held up his hands in innocence. “But I think Patrick’s right. No matter how many guys have wanted her, I bet she hasn’t had one like you coming after her. Within a day, you were making out with her in the reflecting pool.”
“You know that’s not true. I was giving her oxygen.”
“Yeah, mouth-to-mouth oxygen during an ISA drill. Not bad, Eli. It must have worked, because you had her begging you to come with her on a date. Where did you go last night, anyway?”
“Good question,” Patrick added. “A romantic stroll along the Potomac?”
I laughed. “That would’ve been nice.”
“Special training for our test on Friday?” Charles asked.
“Something like that,” I said. “And what about you Charles? How are things coming with Aisha?”
“I’ve got her right where I want her,” he answered. “Turns out Patrick here is a savvy third wheel. Last night, while you and Naomi were somewhere making out, he and I went with Aisha to a show at the Kennedy Center. We had two extra tickets since you and Naomi bailed on us. Patrick invited the pretty twins from the bigger ISA class.” He looked to Patrick. “What were their names?”
“Mary and Sarah,” Patrick answered.
“Classy names
,” I said. “Were they born in the last century?”
“They are barely older than we are. They go to Georgetown,” Patrick bragged, probably proud to have gone out with college girls. “Never met anyone named Mary in Manhattan?”
“A few grandmothers,” I said. “I know one who might like you.”
“Oh, is she too tall for you?” Patrick taunted.
“C’mon guys,” Charles interrupted. “As I was saying, the five of us went to the show. After it was over, Patrick ducked away with his two guests and, yes Elijah, they were cute. We can’t all have Naomi. But the important thing is, Patrick being the good guy he is, he left Aisha and me alone. Guess who got to first base?”
“You held her hand?” Patrick asked.
Charles and I burst out into laughter. Then I realized from Patrick’s confused stare that he wasn’t joking.
“Are things really that different in Catholic school?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” he replied.
“First base is holding hands?”
“Yeah, what is it for you?”
“Primary level data syncing,” Charles answered, pointing to his temple where the main precept chip was installed. “You know, exchanging all your media files and bio-data. When you know a girl’s heart rate every moment, then you’re on your way to second base.”
“Wow,” Patrick’s mouth hung open. “That’s definitely past second base for us.” He turned to me. “You didn’t sync with Naomi already, did you?”
“I bet he did.” Charles looked at me eagerly.
“No.” I stared down at my empty plate. Then I remembered how close Naomi was to me in the dream. It felt like we were already connected. I had shared my dream with her, and she had exposed her secret order. We were both vulnerable, but she was still hiding something. I felt sure of it.
I looked up and held Charles and Patrick’s attention. “Not yet, anyway.” I forced myself to grin, and to say what they probably expected me to say. “I will sync with her before this week’s over. You can count on it.”
I FLEW STRAIGHT at the Shanghai skyscraper.
When I reached its wall of glass, I dove down, plummeting with the city’s hot air rushing past me. I stopped and hovered twenty feet above the ground.
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