The Root

by Na'amen Tilahun

  He smiled. The faked confidence he’d displayed for the past two years finally felt real, like the fire in his chest had been rekindled. He’d felt this before during the fight at school, or with the two . . . Angelics. But unlike then it didn’t threaten to overtake him. The power simply sat there, warm and pulsing.

  As he continued on he gave all the doorknobs a cursory twist. Most were locked, and the ones that opened led to empty single rooms exactly like the one he’d left but without the furniture. The right hallway ended in a single door, painted red. The first bit of color he’d seen in this monochrome shithole since he woke up.

  The knob turned easily under his hand and he found himself looking into a large white room. The floor curved downward and the ceiling arched up so the whole room was a endless white parabola; it was disorienting even from the doorway. After a few seconds his eyes began to water and the room warped even more in his sight. He closed the door and leaned his forehead against the cool wall next to it until the dizziness passed.

  Once he could stand without swaying, he headed away from the unlocked door in the other direction. The other end opened into a round atrium, three large trees holding leaves of silver and dangling heavy vermilion fruit up to the starlight that streamed from the opening in the ceiling. Three doors lined the wall; the two on either end were closed but the middle one sat open and loud voices emerged. He did what any smart person in a weird situation would do and crept closer to listen in.

  “He’s much too dangerous to train with the others!” The voice was a tenor, made deeper with age.

  “And what would you have us do? Turn him over to be trained by Matthias alone, at a time like this?” That voice he recognized. The woman he had met on the roof—Daya.

  “We will train him in secret with no involvement from Matthias,” the unknown voice spoke again.

  “How do you propose to do that? Matthias is the one with a connection with his family. He’s the one entrusted with the training, not us. Also, the young man is at least eighteen, so he should really be here involved in the discussion himself.” That was Elliot. Now that he wasn’t under a strain, Erik found him soft-spoken but sure and smiled at his words. At least someone thought he should make his own decisions. “Where is Matthias?”

  Erik was wondering the same thing. Nothing about this felt right.

  “And you would endanger—”

  “There will be no danger. We will both be here training an aspirant as well. This is our only chance to influence this Erik so he doesn’t completely adopt Matthias’s hatred of the Organization.” Daya’s voice hardened. “His very valid critiques of how it is run. And you still haven’t answered Elliot’s questions as to his whereabouts.”

  “Well, as you said he is . . . critical of the Organization. Before he could be allowed free range of one of our safe houses, he had to be questioned.”

  Erik really did not like the sound of the person speaking. He hurried off, back down the hallway, pressing his ear tightly to each locked door he passed until he heard the murmuring of voices. He studied the door; it was fairly weak-looking wood. He could try to kick some of it out of the jamb, but that felt like it would be too loud. He didn’t know how much longer the meeting about him would be going on, and didn’t that piss him the fuck off, that they would dare to talk about him while he was supposed to be passed out.

  The fire in his chest flared and he felt the muscles in his arms go tight and hot. The need to fight, to punch something, rose in him but he controlled it. He grabbed the doorknob and turned until the lock stopped him, then turned some more. There was a sharp crack as the lock was forced and broke. Erik paused, waiting to see if he would hear footsteps pounding toward him. There was nothing, so he prepared to push the door open.

  There was no way those on the other side of the door had missed the sound. He quickly pushed the door open and, relying on his new instincts, ducked into a ball and rolled into the room. He passed through something that chilled his body.

  He popped to his feet and was met by two pairs of wide blinking eyes. The young man he’d been looking for, Matthias, was watching him from the bed, naked except for black boxer-briefs and the stiff wraps around his arm and leg. His mahogany hair with auburn accents hung wild into his dark eyes. He was eating soup from a tray on his lap and staring at Erik. Erik’s gaze snapped to the other person in the room.

  She looked almost exactly like Elliot. Her face was softer and rounder and her longer hair was curled and pulled back. She wore a long, flowing gown of sapphire that brought out the cool blue tones in her skin. This was all trumped by the fact that she was floating a foot off the ground and was mostly see-through, though.

  She spoke with a hint of a smile. “Well, he’s certainly as rash as you. It’s either a match made in heaven or you’ll burn the city down around our ears. Either way it’ll be interesting.”

  “What exactly is going on?” Matthias asked.

  Erik rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.

  “Well, I . . . overheard that you were being held. So I came to rescue you.” As Erik looked the man over, he could see that the bed was equipped with straps to hold a person down—they were just currently undone.

  Matthias snorted. “Didn’t Yida ever teach you that eavesdropping is a great way to hear bad things about yourself?”

  Erik smirked and answered. “Yes, but she also said you need to know when people are talking shit about you. So you can confront them later.”

  Matthias smiled. “That sounds like her, all right.”

  Erik narrowed his eyes. “So you do know my mother. And I am who they were talking about.” He figured, but it was nice to have confirmation.

  “Well, I’ll leave you two to figure things out and let the Maestres know that everything is okay.”

  “Thanks, Elana,” Matthias called as she floated out.

  “What is she?” Erik asked, staring at the wall she had passed through, ignoring the open door.

  “A ghost.”

  He turned back to Matthias.

  “Ghosts are real?” Erik had always been vaguely atheist. Robert broke from the Greek Orthodox church years before Erik was born and his mom had done the same with the Southern Baptists. They both were indifferent to matters of the soul or God but now Erik wondered if that was just an act with his mom.

  Whatever his parents’ reasons, Erik had simply become atheist without making a conscious decision. He trusted his own eyes and senses more than anything written in books or passed through word of mouth. This was right in front of his eyes, though.

  “Yeah, not as plentiful as some people think though. I’ve only met three and I’ve been around. Elana’s good people despite her allegiance. Her brother and Daya too.”

  “So Elana and Elliot are related?”

  “Yeah. Twins.”

  Erik nodded, frowning. Then he cocked his head to the side and waited.

  “I’m guessing you’d like some answers now, yes?” Matthias questioned, sitting up farther.

  “Well, that would be good but I’m not sure the explanation won’t send me screaming into the night. I’ve seen some fucked up things over the last twenty-four hours—Shit!” Erik stopped cold.

  “What?”

  “How long have I been out? Mama is probably freaking the fuck out right now.”

  “It’s Saturday morning and don’t worry about it, I talked to Yida. Everything’s cool. And you’re strong enough to take this talk. Have a seat.”

  Erik sat in the single chair, turning it to face the bed. He took a deep breath and braced himself. He knew that tone of “talk”—it implied a revelation, a shift in his world. He’d been given many talks in the past—from agents and producers, from Robert and his mom, from lawyers and judges and pundits and people on the street. He’d survived all of them and would this one as well.

  “In the beginning, there was the Creatrix. Call it God, call it the Universe, call it whatever you want, it made this world. It crafted the sky and th
e earth, it crafted the animals of the sea and humans and plants. Then the Creatrix birthed—rather than crafted—its children, the Nephilim. Some cultures viewed them as angels, some as nature spirits, and still others as gods. The Nephilim were all this and more, gifted with shapes and forms and powers far beyond those of even the mightiest of the Blooded—that’s what you are, by the way.

  Erik tried to interrupt. “What—”

  Matthias held up his hand. “Please hold all questions until the end. The Nephilim made a garden of the world and shielded those weaker crafted life forms that did not have the Creatrix’s power burning in them. Finally they had children themselves. They tried to create a paradise, but a portion of their children rose up in anger and jealousy. Still others rose in defense of their forebears, and though the aggressors were banished, they still managed to kill all the Nephilim. The Blooded are the descendants of those who remained loyal. Angelics are the children of the betrayers.”

  Erik narrowed his eyes but didn’t interrupt.

  “Or in the beginning there was God. From where the Nephilim came no one knows, but they spread across this earth that God created and God was pleased. The Nephilim began to breed and multiply, they bred with each other and with all the pieces of creation—trees, rocks, starstuff, waves, flame—and from these matings was everything alive born. And God saw this and thought it good.

  “The world now teemed with life and, as life is wont to do, it attacked and devoured itself, which was also good. Which was nature. Then the Nephilim came to wonder, ‘Why should our descendants not worship us? Are we not the well from which they all sprung? Are we not the beginning of life?’ And so they enslaved their descendants and all the life they had brought forth and God saw this and was not happy. It sent a devouring wind to scour clean the face of the earth, sending warning to their descendants but not the Nephilim themselves. Even with this warning many creatures and people died along with their forebears. The Blooded are those of their blood who survived and the Angelics are the Nephilim that managed to hide in the dark corners of creation.”

  Erik tilted his head. “But—”

  Matthias interrupted him.

  “Or there is no singular God. People came about through evolution, millions of years and thousands of evolutionary dead ends to get to this. The gods and goddesses came later, sprung from the minds of people, sprung from communities, sprung from abstract notions and ideas. They fed on their parents—humanity—as some children do, sucking the invention and ingenuity that was produced. They also blessed warriors, protected cities, and taught humanity machining processes that would take them centuries to master otherwise. These abstracts made flesh bred with humans, spreading their abilities far and wide. Too late they discovered their own power had limits and was shared with their descendants; the more of their line that existed the less power they themselves had to use or even sustain themselves. Eventually most simply faded away. Those who survived killed the children they could find and hide even now because of the rumor, not too far-fetched, that their descendants did this deliberately. Some descendants even learned how to draw more power from their forebears, turning themselves less human and more abstract, the Angelics who even now search for a new power source before they all die. We are the descendants of those they blessed, their priestesses and priests.”

  Erik rolled his eyes.

  “All of these stories are true and none of them are. The truth is buried under the many former worlds that were Earth, not to mention millennia of lies and misdirection and mistranslated truth on top of that. Plenty of Blooded have spent their whole lives trying to find out the ‘true’ tale and all we have to show for it is a multitude of revisions and arguing.”

  “What do you mean, former worlds?”

  “This is not the first world. Depending on who you believe, it is the beginning of anywhere from the third to the thirteenth—both numbers of power. Every culture has stories about the end of the world; this is carried from those who survive the destruction of the previous world and pass into the next, but all that is for philosophers to debate.”

  “It all sounds like philosophical bullshit. I mean, that’s not an explanation. How do you explain something by saying there’s no true explanation? Bullshit.”

  The smile dropped from Matthias’s mouth. “It’s a real-world explanation. The real world is messy. What some people view as truth isn’t necessarily true at all and sometimes there’s no objective truth at all. From what your mother said, you know all about that?” Matthias raised one eyebrow and the smile returned but it was darker now, a little more mocking.

  Erik tightened his lips and thought of Daniel. No one had cared about the truth then. He nodded and gestured for the man to go on.

  “The basic gist is that in the old days giants walked the earth, whether they were angels or gods or abstract ideas they could interact with the world, change it with their power, and breed with the humans and other matter. They were responsible for miracles of magic and engineering, feats of daring and wonder, things the world has never completely forgotten, even if what it remembers is distorted and less than it actually was,” Matthias summarized.

  “And they made the pyramids and the Nazca lines and all that. Listen, I’ve heard this old people/gods bullshit before but mostly when people just can’t believe that people of color in some part of the world were ever more advanced than Europe.” Erik had once had a weakness for the History Channel before it was all Hitler and aliens.

  “No, by the time those things were built we were mostly on our own . . . excepting the Reborn. I’m talking older things like the Tower of Babel and Passageways into Past and Future Worlds. Things not completely of this world. Besides, I have something to prove my theory that all those other people didn’t have.” Matthias smirked wider.

  “What?” Erik could feel himself returning the expression despite the dark thoughts of truths and Daniel that swirled behind it.

  “You saw some fucked up shit last night.”

  Erik couldn’t help but nod and laugh out loud.

  “What you did? That can be explained by you being one of the Blooded.” Here Matthias paused and watched Erik’s face as if expecting surprise or horror. Except that Erik had worked some of this out. What he did last night wasn’t normal, even if he could explain some of it with adrenaline. The fall from the roof wasn’t normal no matter how he twisted physics. Not to mention that he could barely feel the aftermath today.

  “Your mother knew this might happen. She never really expressed the bloodline that flows in you . . . and to be completely honest, neither have you.”

  This time Erik did blink in surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “Your mother is descended from Mami Wata’s line—that’s healing, divination, water. Powers can vary within a bloodline because most of the old ones were patrons of many things. However, you’re a fighter, not even just a fighter but a berserker—you gain strength and power in a fight. A fighter in Mami Wata’s line would be rare but explainable, but a berserker? No, the only answer is that your father is Blooded too.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so.” If Robert had mythic gods in his background, Erik didn’t doubt he would have thrown that detail in Erik’s face along with all his other reasons Erik was a failure.

  “He probably doesn’t know. Many of the bloodlines that survived the transition to the new world were then lost through war, colonialism, some were even deliberately hunted down. Some keep themselves apart from the rest of us, some don’t know their history and believe themselves to be something else. Also, Blooded have one-night stands, leave their families, keep secrets, same as anyone. What’s your dad’s background?”

  “Greek mostly, a little English and French mixed in.”

  “Okay. We’ll do some research.”

  “So it’s about ethnicity?”

  “Sort of. The old ones traveled the world for eons, all of its people and hidden places, they knew them all but they showed different faces to different p
eople. So St. Raphael is Isis is Aesculapius, but which aspect is the source of your line gives us a clue to how you’ll express. The Organization could probably find out in a couple of hours, but I don’t want anyone else having the knowledge before we do and using it against you.”

  “Against me?” Erik felt a chill run across his back.

  Matthias looked at him. “Every line has different strengths, different attitudes, and special weaknesses. It’s always better to know your weakness before anyone else does.”

  Probably sensing Erik’s discomfort, Matthias changed the subject.

  “Anyway, to finish up the lesson. Eventually the giants of myth disappeared. Some of their descendants left this world, or were chased out, and found another one to live in. They still come here, mostly to steal people.”

  “What for?” Erik felt tense.

  “We don’t know.” Matthias’s face looked as grim as Erik felt.

  “So that’s what was happening last night?”

  Matthias nodded.

  Another disturbing thought occurred to Erik.

  “So I’m . . . related to those things from last night?” He felt a little nausea churn his belly.

  Matthias laughed. “Well, depending on the story but even then, no. I mean that’s like saying you’re related to every Black- or Greek-American. There were hundreds, more likely thousands of bloodlines.”

  “So what does it mean exactly?”

  “You’re descended from at least one thing that wasn’t human. Angelics come into this world, they have some sort of deal with the government. We don’t know all the details but basically our government pays for things, technologies, knowledge, things we’d call magic, with its citizens.”

  “Our government is selling us?” This was getting more and more surreal and Erik wanted off. “So that little girl last night?”

  “A newly awakened Blooded like yourself, set up by our government as trade for gods-know-what. The Angelics . . . they don’t view us as relatives; to them we’re second-class citizens. At best. They come from a world where they rule, where there is nothing to stop them. They are the law. The only reason they deal with our government at all is the danger widespread knowledge of them could cause.”