by Tracy Clark
Will stepped out of a pack of onlookers and greeted me with his arm outstretched, perhaps a bit too soon. It looked like it hung out there for an unnaturally long time. We shook hands, and he patted my back. “Giovanni.”
“Will.”
Will’s aura arced over his wife, Maya, who stepped forward. “Nice to see you again,” she said, less enthusiastically than yesterday. I blinked at her aura. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. It explained Will’s protective energy and his fear. Maya was pregnant.
“Congratulations,” I said, and Claire looked up at me curiously. “She’s having a baby,” I explained. “Will, Maya, this is Claire. My daughter.” Claire stepped forward and reached her hands to Maya’s belly. Maya flinched and her eyes rounded at Will. I saw Will’s hand jerk with the urge to slap Claire’s hand away.
They were scared of her.
Claire didn’t seem to pick up on their fear, but her aura drank it up in a way that set my hairs at attention. “Claire, honey, you should ask before you touch people.” Or their energy. Our lessons in that regard would have to start immediately.
Claire rejoined me, and Will cleared his throat and asked how Mami Tulke had fared in the earthquake. Apparently, the death toll in Chile was near a thousand, and they were barely beginning to unearth the missing people from the rubble.
Will then invited us to sit with them in the dining hall. Mami Tulke introduced us to the crowd of Scintilla that had gathered inside. I knew it was commonplace for them, but the sight of their mercury auras filling the air and the room left me winded. They were beautiful. They felt beautiful. I wished the distrust in some of their eyes would fade because when I looked at them, I only saw extended family. People I longed to protect. To save. I tried to expose the energy around my chest to display my openness. We could not fight together without trust.
A man stood and pointed his finger at me. “You, tell us what we need to know. Many of us are in hiding because of rumors of attack or loved ones who’ve disappeared. But we’ve lived so long here in peace that it feels like the threat is gone. You come here and suddenly we’re in danger?”
I opened my mouth to respond but Mami Tulke, surprisingly, spoke on my behalf. “Giovanni does not bring the danger with him.”
“Oh yeah? What’s up with his little girl? What’s wrong with her eyes?” one anonymous person asked. “Is she dangerous?” another asked. What in the hell? How could they say such things in front of her?
Mami Tulke placed a hand on Claire’s head. “She is in my home. Her life was like something you cannot know. Do not fear her. Have compassion.”
“Hey,” I said with a warning tone, curling Claire under my wing. She wasn’t like other children, obliviously letting chatter roll over them. She was too smart for that.
“Why are they afraid of me?” she asked, proving my point.
“It’s not you, bella. They are afraid of anything that shakes up their way of life,” I said into her hair.
Mami Tulke placed both hands on the table in front of her and took a few disquieting moments before speaking again. “Giovanni did not bring the threat,” she repeated. “I did.” Confused glances went around the room. “The threat follows every Scintilla. You’d not be hiding here if there were no threat. I consider it a job well done if you’ve lived happy and free from fear the past few years.”
“Should we be afraid now?” Maya asked, her black eyes shining at Mami Tulke, her hand on her not yet rounded belly. I felt for her, and for her baby. What a foolishly optimistic thing it was to bring another Scintilla into this world.
Mami Tulke took too long to answer. She didn’t want to incite fear, but she couldn’t mislead them.
“Yes,” I cut in. “You should be afraid.” The glare I got from Cora’s grandmother told me that was not the answer she’d intended to give. But this was a moment of choice, and the audience was present and listening. “You trust Mami Tulke, and you’re right to. She’s hidden you away like the precious gems you are. But there are”—I looked at Claire and realized I needed to temper my language—“gem hunters.”
“G?” she said, pulling my shirt. “Metaphor?”
I sighed. She might as well know. “The Arrazi are coming. Soon. Hiding here, keeping away from the outside world, that was wise, but that is over. The time to fight has come.”
“We can run!” someone shouted. “That’s another option!”
Mami Tulke’s fists clenched on the table. That, she was correct about. Some would choose to run. “You run and you’ll be picked like easy fruit,” I said. “Choose your endgame. Do you want a life of fear or a life of freedom?”
The communal dining hall erupted in shouting and sparks. Claire clapped her hands over her ears. Mami Tulke picked her up, slung her on her thick hip like a sack of potatoes, and walked out into the Chilean evening. I followed. Let them hash it out. They needed to. Change was its own kind of earthquake. I reached for Claire, but Mami Tulke shrugged me off and set Claire’s feet to the ground. “I’ll take her back,” she said. “You, stay.” Her nut-brown eyes slashed at me as she said, “This is the war you wanted. Go lead it.”
I watched her walk with my daughter between two buildings and through the trees just as the sun left the valley in shadow. Already, even in the half-light, stars dotted the sky. I’d heard that people came from all over the world to stargaze here. The community made a fair bit off the tourists who were attracted by the astronomy domes, the stargazing tours, and the “magnetic feel” of the place. Outsiders had no idea why it felt so good to be here. The stars were magnificent, yes. But the people…the Scintilla gave the Elqui Valley its magic.
Footsteps crunched in the gravel behind me. Will and Maya approached. Her arms were crossed, her aura self-protective. “My husband and I do not agree on the best course of action,” she said to me. “But I want to thank you for warning us. We came to find you because we don’t want you to feel alone or unwelcome.”
Will rocked back on his cowboy boots. “I just want to protect my wife and protect our baby. I don’t want a life on the run, and I don’t want to live here in fear. Hell, I don’t know what to do.” He sounded defensive. He looked at me hopefully, like I might say something to change her mind.
“Arrazi came and took my parents when I was a boy. My mom was pregnant,” I admitted in a rush that constricted my chest. “I—I never saw them again.” Cora had been the only person I’d ever told that story to. I told it now to convince this woman, with another precious Scintilla in her belly, that alternatives had run out.
Will watched Maya’s face distort with horror as she listened. He looked back to me with worry in his eyes. “What will they do to us? We’ve all heard the rumors… Scintilla being sold, held prisoner for years, killed by having their auras drained completely.”
“They are no longer interested in selling or keeping us. They’ve been directed to kill us all.” I let those words seep in before speaking again. “I was in a battle very recently, at Newgrange.” Maya’s gaze snapped to Will’s and back to me. “The Arrazi’s attack is supernatural—swift and deadly. Each Arrazi can take from multiple people at once, from at least thirty feet away. And that’s their power without using the sortileges some of them have gained.”
Maya’s hand flew to her mouth, and the other reached for Will’s hand. “How did you escape?” she asked.
I credited Cora, and I had to credit Finn. “I was attacked first and was uselessly weakened,” I said, swallowing a stone of shame in my throat. I’d make up for my failure this time around. I was cursed against saving Cora’s life, but I could save these people’s. “We’d not have escaped were it not for the dagger.” I’d run that battle through my mind over and over again from the moment we escaped Newgrange. The conclusion was always the same. “In order to win against the Arrazi, we need weapons.”
“This is unbelievable,” Maya said. “I am against this, Will.” She turned and grabbed his hands. “You know I am.”
A large
group of Scintilla exited the dining hall and spotted us. I had an audience and could not let the moment pass. I wanted everyone to be ready. When Cora arrived, she’d see the vital role I played in protecting us, in protecting her. I wouldn’t be useless again.
“With all due respect,” I said louder, pulling more Scintilla out with my voice, “what is it you are against? Defending yourselves? Fighting against those who would see you lifeless on the ground and use their powers to terrorize the rest of humanity?”
“Hey…” Will cautioned at my increasing temper, but I would not be daunted. The world was literally falling apart around us.
“Offer yourselves up, if you will. Lay down and die at their feet. Be sacrificial lambs if that makes you feel more saintly. The Arrazi will come, and you will have no choice but to decide. I, however, will not be unprepared. I will fight for you if you’re too timid to fight for yourselves. The Arrazi don’t fight fair, and neither should we. We need weapons. God willing, we’ll never have to use them. But God didn’t save my parents. God didn’t save Mami Tulke’s son or his wife.”
Murmurs and gasps arose from the group. “So this is serious?” someone asked.
“It doesn’t give me pleasure to come here and give you this news. I’ve spent my life flying under the radar, and I feel lucky to have lived this long. Some are searching for answers as we speak, but I don’t believe in my heart that there is any answer that will stop the Arrazi. If there were, wouldn’t it have been found by now? I don’t judge anyone who hopes for a peaceful resolution. I can only say that I have no such hope. This is serious, yes. This is life or death.”
I surveyed the crowd, young and old, and felt the weight of the moment press upon me. No doubt existed within me. I’d meet might with might.
“Who’s with me?”
Chapter Nineteen
Cora
“Perdono, miss. It is not permissible to touch the historic artifacts.”
I snatched my hand back and turned around to face the museum guard who filled the doorway. He had the most horizontal face I’d ever seen: eyebrows in a straight line above eyes that flattened into slits and a scowling mouth with no hint of an upward curve. I wondered if he’d ever smiled in his life.
“I’m sorry, I—” How could I explain? Touching these chests was the most driving need I had in the world just then. My palm tingled with need. I had to know the memories of the treasure chests. I had to know if the key around my neck fit one of the locks. I had to know whether my instincts were spot-on or numb and useless. It felt eerily like I was directed to that place, and my dad was a sudden presence. I grew up surrounded by treasure boxes. Crazy as it sounds, I felt like I was meant to find these treasure boxes in this room at this exact moment. “Please, sir,” I begged. “I simply—”
“No.”
Desperate, I did the only thing I could think of. I funneled light, sparks, positive energy, every good feeling I had in me directly into the man. It was enough to bring Giovanni back from the brink of death after Clancy and Griffin beat him; perhaps it would be enough of a hit of feel-good that this man would give me license to touch the boxes.
His eyebrows shot up, arched in a way that seemed impossible moments ago. His mouth followed. But more than the outward signs of his attitude morphing in front of my eyes was his aura. It expanded and puffed in waves of golden light. He was feeling it, that much I could see.
I gave more.
Just like with Giovanni, it didn’t drain me to give the way it drained me when the Arrazi stole from me. Strange…
The man’s stance relaxed. His arms hung limp at his sides, and he gazed at me with the goofiest grin. “I’ll just be a moment,” I said, testing the waters.
“Si, just a moment,” he murmured. I felt very Obi-Wan for a second but wasted no time. I ran over to the first box and touched it. Memories flashed, yes. But like the triple spiral, I could detect nothing but many hands over many centuries. I touched the next box and the next, finally pressing my hand flat against the enormous eight-foot-tall box at the back. Nothing but fragmented images of the box being moved, its various contents, a torrid quickie inside.
Disappointment was a heavy lid, slamming down on my hopes. I continued to shoot beams of light at the guard who watched me with a pleasant, curious expression. I smiled. I’d touched the treasure boxes and learned nothing. The only other question was whether this key I possessed would fit one of the locks.
I tugged the chain on my neck, whipped they key from under my shirt, and pulled it over my head. The enormous box had a place that once held a locking mechanism, but you could see it had been removed. There was nowhere to insert the key but a gaping, key-shaped hole. No good.
I skipped one of the medium boxes, determining just by looking at it that they key was too small for the lock. The third box didn’t even have a built-in lock, just a half circle of metal, which would have been used for some kind of padlock.
“You can’t possibly think your key there—”
“Shhh, and feel good,” I snapped. “Aren’t you happy just watching me bumble around?”
“In fact, yes,” he said amiably.
I wanted to kick the boxes to the Roman Colosseum after I bent over the last, smallest chest and realized the box would never accept the key. I leaned over it, near tears. “What a waste of ti—”
Just below my chin, on the backside of the box, wasn’t a keyhole but a key-shaped indentation: a place to rest a key flat in the surface of the box, as if for ornamentation. I looked at the outline of the space in the wood, looked at my key, and shoved it in. A cracking sound split the air.
“I really must insist you remove your body from the box,” the guard said, though there was no conviction in his voice. I looked over his shoulder and smiled, giving him one last hit of energy before turning back to the box and prying open the back section that had inexplicably come apart, like a page in a book.
A spider ambled out as I pressed the secret compartment away from me to see inside. I had to tilt my head sideways to see the yellowed and crackled painting affixed to the wood of the trunk.
Every bit of air whooshed out of me.
Beneath my fingers was an exquisite rendering of Madonna and Jesus; a youthful Jesus, not quite a child, not quite a man. A teen like…like me. He and his mother gazed lovingly at each other. I bit my bottom lip and became aware that my head was shaking “no” involuntarily. It couldn’t be…
It wasn’t the finding of a hidden painting, or the most tender and loving expressions between mother and son, or seeing Jesus Christ as a teenager that affected me so deeply. It was the crowd behind them. All had blurred faces but with auras as polychromatic as a rainbow. It was the tiri gondi adorning the hems of Mary’s robe and the hexagram, like on the church in the Basilica of Santa Croce, where the great men were buried, which was on the four corners of the painting.
Above all, it was the luminous pure silver auras depicted around the bodies and heads of Mary and Jesus, which spiraled out from them and flowed toward each other to connect in the space between them like a sacred rope.
It was a piece of the puzzle.
It was a message, if I was reading it right. One that would shock the world.
Jesus and his mother were Scintilla.
A drawing of the key, my key, was in the upper middle with these words, sadly in Italian:
San Pietro è la chiave che registra le malefatte di coloro che hanno il coraggio di rivendicare il dominio sui regni al di là delle porte della Terra.
There was no way to peel the painting from the wood, and while I’d voodoo’d the guard into letting me touch the trunks, I doubted he’d let me do much more. He was already shuffling nervously behind me. I snapped a picture of the painting with my cell phone, eased the compartment shut, and yanked the key from its hold just as he leaned forward.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely, while scooting around him and running from the room. “Have a happy day!”
I bolted out of the
Room of Treasures and walked-ran through the Castel Sant’Angelo toward the nearest exit. Once my feet hit the pavement outside, I tried to call Giovanni to show him and have him translate the words on the painting, but my call still would not go through. Giovanni could verify the words, but who could authenticate the painter? I ran full out toward the Sistine Chapel. I needed to see Piero Salamone immediately. I had to show him the picture and get his take on it. What if it had been painted by the hand of Michelangelo? Piero could probably tell. If it was, Michelangelo took great pains to hide it, even hiding the only key that could open it.
My breath was choppy at the halfway point down the Via della Concilazione. The great round top of the Sistine Chapel rose in front of me like a beacon. All I could think as I ran was, could Jesus have really been a Scintilla? Is that the truth, the great secret that people killed to keep?
Chapter Twenty
Finn
“The Lennon girl is here.”
I stood quickly and followed my mother from the secret room. “I’ve asked her to wait in the library,” Mum whispered, closing the door behind us and shutting the painting on its hinge. Her voice turned sour. “You two are quick friends…”
“Don’t forget why I started up with the Lennon clan to begin with.”
“Careful there.”
“The worst of their lot is gone, though her children may not know it yet.” I wiped my palms on my jeans and entered the library, choking on the same repulsive memory of nearly killing Cora that always assaulted me when I entered that room. Saoirse was kneeling in front of the bookshelves, tilting out books and pushing them back again. “My mom doesn’t keep books like these around,” she said, standing up abruptly when she heard me walk in. “Doesn’t think we should worry ourselves about the common human’s flawed take on energy.”