All You Desire

by Kirsten Miller

  “I’m so sorry,” Haven said. “And the man who started the rumor—it was Adam?”

  “There’s no doubt that it was. In fact, he looks exactly the same today as he did thousands of years ago.”

  “Do you know what he is?” Iain asked.

  Phoebe took the leather volume out of Haven’s hands and closed it. “That’s the one answer you won’t find in this book. The truth is, even we don’t know. He may not be truly eternal, but he’s as old as mankind. All cultures have had a name for him. In Greece, he was Chaos. In Egypt they called him Seth. In India some still call him Ravana. I’ve heard people here refer to him as the devil, but that’s not quite right. The Christian devil has a reason for doing the things he does. The magos does not.”

  “Chandra told me that the Horae spend each lifetime fighting him,” Haven said.

  “My sisters and I are drawn back to earth for one reason: to find the magos and exact our revenge. We are born into families scattered all over the globe. But we each hear the call the moment we draw our first breaths. Just as honeybees always find their way back to the right hive, we always return to each other. It often means traveling thousands of miles, but we reunite with our sisters as soon as we can. Even as children we devote our lives to the cause.”

  “So you’re the leader?” Haven asked.

  “I am the oldest. When I am able, I take care of my sisters as I always have.”

  “And you’ve been returning to earth for two thousand years?”

  “Much longer than that,” Phoebe said. “The Horae have been fighting the magos for so many centuries that we’ve become part of a system of checks and balances. Without us, the world could plunge into darkness.”

  “How do the Horae keep the world from ‘plunging into darkness’?” Iain didn’t bother to conceal his skepticism. Haven cringed, but Phoebe appeared unperturbed.

  “That is an excellent question, Mr. Morrow. We cannot kill the magos, so we lock him away whenever possible. It’s not easy to do. He is usually difficult to locate. And quite slippery when we do find him. But during the decades he’s imprisoned, the human race thrives. The Renaissance, for instance—it wouldn’t have been possible without us.”

  “And Haven’s role in all of this would be?” Iain asked.

  “She can help us put him where he can do no harm for a while. You see, none of the Horae can get close enough to the magos to imprison him. We’ve tried, and we invariably fail. But Haven is his weakness. He can never resist her. In fact, she’s the reason we’ve been able to keep track of him. He’s never remained in one place for so long. He’s been in New York for almost ninety years, waiting for Haven to return to him. Now that she’s here, we finally have what we need to lure him into our trap.”

  “Forget it,” Iain said. “You’re not going to use Haven as bait.”

  “Iain!” Haven protested. “Don’t you think we should hear the rest?”

  “She’s not going to tell you the whole story, Haven.” Iain glared at Phoebe. “You say you’ve locked Adam away before. That means he must have escaped. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” Phoebe said.

  “So what’s going to happen to Haven when he gets out again?”

  Phoebe nodded. “I can’t predict the future, Mr. Morrow. I don’t know what will happen should the magos escape. But you must understand—if Haven doesn’t agree to assist us now, she’ll have no hope of finding her friend. I am the only one who can help her see the life she needs to see.” She turned her attention to Haven. “This friend of yours who’s missing. Is he the one Chandra met when you were running from the gray men?”

  “Yes. His name is Beau,” Haven said.

  “Chandra sensed a special connection between you. He’s more than just your friend, isn’t he?”

  It felt like the old woman had reached into Haven’s chest and seized her heart. “He was my brother.”

  “Chandra suspected as much. When we met at the spa, you told me your friend came to New York to meet someone from his past.”

  “That’s right,” Haven confirmed.

  Phoebe’s face was grim. “I don’t want to frighten you, Haven, but Beau may be in grave danger. There have been similar incidents in the past. Not long ago, a Society member disappeared shortly after she was reunited with a lover from one of her previous lives. I tried to warn her that the man wasn’t who he claimed to be. The woman’s corpse—what little was left of it—was discovered months later. They say she’d been tortured for weeks.”

  No. Haven shook her head at the thought. Things like that never happened to people like Beau. They might, a voice whispered, but Haven refused to listen. She knew that if she indulged her worst fears, her hopes wouldn’t stand a chance.

  “Who was the woman who died?” Iain demanded. “Why didn’t I read about her murder in the papers?”

  “Ouroboros Society scandals rarely make the papers,” Phoebe noted.

  “I’ll do it, Phoebe,” Haven interjected. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it if you promise to help me find Beau.”

  “Hold on—both of you. I agree that we’ve got to act fast to save Beau,” Iain said. “But why do we have to deal with Adam now? He isn’t going to leave New York anytime soon. Why can’t we work together and come up with a plan that won’t put Haven in danger?”

  “You have a habit of letting emotions cloud your thinking, Mr. Morrow,” Phoebe told him. “I assure you there’s very good reason for our haste. As I mentioned, the magos has been in Manhattan since the 1920s. He still travels the world, of course, spreading chaos and discord. But at this point, we could have read the newspapers and known which city he calls home. All the stock market crashes and financial bubbles—he’s even started to repeat himself. And it’s made him very conspicuous. But the fact that he’s been here for almost a century isn’t a good thing for anyone. When the magos isn’t on the move, chaos becomes concentrated in one spot, and the world becomes unbalanced. It could cause irreparable harm to this city—to the entire country. We can’t afford to wait. We must take action immediately.”

  “What do you think is going to happen?” Haven asked.

  “We don’t know,” Phoebe said. “But we do know that the magos has been working on a new scheme—one that has the potential to be extremely dangerous. You’ve been to the Ouroboros Society headquarters, have you not?” she asked Haven.

  “I have,” Haven confirmed.

  “And who did you see while you were there?”

  Haven thought back, trying not to forget anyone. “I saw a few low-level OS employees. And a bunch of kids who’d come for past-life analysis.”

  “That’s right,” said Phoebe.

  “I don’t get it,” Haven said. “Did I miss something?”

  “Did you happen to notice that the children in the waiting room were all the same age?”

  “They were?” Haven remembered a little blonde girl she’d spoken to in the lobby of the OS, Flora, who claimed she’d once been a renowned epidemiologist named Josephine. Flora had been small, perhaps only eight or nine. Haven felt a pang of panic and hoped no harm had come to the little girl.

  “Until ten years ago, children were not welcome in the Ouroboros Society,” Phoebe said. “With one or two exceptions, they were rarely allowed inside the building. Then suddenly, one day, it was announced that the OS would begin recruiting children who were nine years of age.”

  “Is this true?” Haven asked Iain. “You must have met some of the kids while you were a member of the Society.”

  “Sure,” Iain said. “But they were just little kids. I was more interested in what the adults were up to. I didn’t think a bunch of nine-year-olds could do the world much harm.”

  “At the moment, we are more worried about what’s being done to them, Mr. Morrow,” Phoebe explained. “In that first year alone, the Ouroboros Society recruited twenty children. We’ve tried to contact some of the young members. They’re alive—we know that for certain—but it’s impossible to speak t
o them. All of the OS children are sent to a boarding school north of the city. It’s called Halcyon Hall. The security around it is impossible to breach, and as far as I can tell, the children only return to New York once a year, on their birthdays. Even the parents refuse to speak about the OS. They’ve been bribed, I believe.”

  “What do you think Adam has planned?” Haven asked.

  “We suspect he’s building an army of sorts. Children’s minds are easily warped, and the ones the magos has recruited are no ordinary souls. They all possess astounding abilities. We don’t know how he plans to use the children—or how much damage they’re capable of inflicting. But we do know that Adam’s first recruits are starting to come of age now. And that’s what frightens us.” She fixed her cool stare on Iain. “Now do you understand why we can’t wait any longer to deal with the magos? Whatever he’s doing at Halcyon Hall must be stopped.”

  “I understand,” Iain said. “But I still don’t know why you need to put Haven in danger. There must be another way to destroy the Ouroboros Society. I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  A flicker of annoyance lit the old woman’s eyes. “Please forgive my candor, Mr. Morrow, but you’ve had your chance. We’ve been watching you too. We know you failed to destroy the Society when you were last in New York. What makes you think you might succeed this time?” she asked. “If I thought we could proceed without Haven, we would surely try. But I’ve watched one of my very own sisters be ruined by the magos. You, too, have seen firsthand what can happen to people who spend time in his presence. No one else can help us but Haven.”

  Iain said nothing, but Haven could see he was far from convinced.

  “And so,” Phoebe continued, “that is the deal I’m offering, Haven. You help us capture the magos, and I will help you locate your friend. Do you agree?”

  “Yes,” Haven said. “I’ll help you.”

  Phoebe rose from her chair. “Then please follow me,” she said.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  They found themselves outside underneath the stars. The skylight in the roof glowed like amber. Phoebe led them around the glass, toward a water tower set on steel stilts in a dark corner of the building. She scaled a short ladder and opened a door cut into the side of the round wooden structure.

  “This is where you give past-life readings?” Haven asked, her teeth chattering. If she’d known they’d be making a trip outdoors, she would have asked for her coat. When she reached the top of the ladder, she could see the vast city beneath her. Hundreds of water towers stood watch on the rooftops. How many were still filled with water, she wondered. And how many were used to store secrets?

  “The closer we are to the heavens, the easier it is for the soul to travel,” Phoebe replied. She pointed up at the sky, where the stars gathered in predictable patterns.

  The empty space inside the tower was twelve feet in diameter and carpeted with a mat made of woven straw. Burning embers in a stone hearth set into the floor lit the room. A wicker basket waited beside the fire. The heat in the small chamber wrapped around Haven and squeezed. Struggling to breathe, she hurried to peel off her heavy winter sweater.

  Phoebe removed her shoes and floated down to the floor, where she perched on her heels like a seasoned geisha. The heat didn’t appear to bother her any more than the cold had.

  “Please, join me by the fire,” she said.

  Haven and Iain sat cross-legged on the floor. Phoebe pulled a few twigs out of the wicker basket and tossed them onto the hearth. A wave of heat washed over Haven’s face. Her eyes dried out, and she blinked furiously as a strong fragrance filled the room. It was a mixture of honeysuckle, Play-Doh, fresh-cut grass, sawdust, and the other scents of Haven’s youth. Milky white smoke curled upward and disappeared through a hole in the domed ceiling above.

  “Would you mind wearing one of these, Mr. Morrow?” Phoebe handed Iain a white surgical mask.

  “You’re burning the plants from your sunroom, aren’t you?” Iain asked. “Isn’t the smoke safe to breathe?”

  “The mask is meant to block the fragrance. Scent and memory go hand in hand. The aromas released by the plants can summon memories buried deep in the past. You and I must remain here in the present while Haven travels back in time. But I assure you, there’s no need to worry. I’ve been performing this ritual since the ancient Greeks perfected it.” Phoebe fitted an identical mask over her own nose and mouth. “Now,” Phoebe said, her voice muffled, “which lifetime will you be visiting today, Haven?”

  “I would like to visit the life of Beatrice Vettori,” Haven said. “Her brother’s name was Piero. They lived in Florence, Italy, in the middle of the fourteenth century. I need to go back to 1347 and see a friend of Piero’s. His name was Naddo.”

  “Did you know this Naddo well?”

  “I don’t think so,” Haven admitted. “I’m hoping I met him at least once.”

  Phoebe’s brow furrowed. “I’m afraid my gift has its limits. I can guide you to the right year and place. But I cannot show you a specific scene unless I witnessed it as well. It is difficult to locate a precise moment in time. It may take you several attempts before you find the young man you need to locate. And I can only allow you to visit the past for a few minutes each session. If you do not see what you want to see this evening, you will have to return to us in a couple of days.”

  “Why can’t I just stay in the fourteenth century until I get what I’m after?” Haven asked.

  “Past-life regression strains the body and brain. If you stay too long, your mind could end up mired in the past. And your body in this life would die.”

  “I had no idea this would be so risky,” Iain whispered to Haven. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

  “I’m sure,” Haven said. “And I’m ready to start.”

  “Then close your eyes,” Phoebe said.

  Haven complied.

  “Inhale deeply and concentrate on my voice. You are in the darkness, but your soul is traveling across time and space. You’re searching for your brother. Let the fragrance carry you. Keep traveling backward, two hundred, three hundred, four hundred years. Every era has its own aromas. Every person has his own signature scent. Now you’re approaching the fourteenth century. You can smell the air of Florence. . . .”

  There’s no way this is going to work, Haven thought. All she could smell was something like dirt. Then she opened her eyes.

  SHE WAS LYING facedown. Her tears watered the soil as the cold crept through her velvet dress and seeped into her skin. He was resting deep beneath her, encased in the frozen ground. Beatrice lifted her head. It had only been a few months since she had buried his body here beneath the oak tree. The land around it had once been a beautiful field. Now it was a patchwork of freshly dug graves that extended as far as the eye could see. Half of Florence had come to keep Piero company.

  Beatrice prayed to be among them soon. She deserved to suffer for the things she had done. But the pestilence had passed her by. She stayed with the sisters from the convent, watching from her window as Florence died all around her and trying not to think of the man she’d trapped deep underground. She left her room only twice a week, when she went to sit with her dead brother and beg for forgiveness.

  WHEN HAVEN WOKE, the sadness stayed with her. The Beatrice she’d seen had been barely alive. She had no faith left in anyone, not even herself. Everything she believed in had been destroyed, and everyone she loved had been taken away. Haven knew the vision should serve as a warning. She would share Beatrice’s fate if anything were to happen to Beau.

  “Well?” asked Phoebe.

  “It was horrible.” Even in the heat of the room, Haven was shivering. “Piero was dead. My family was dead. Everyone was dead. I was scared and alone.”

  “Did you see Naddo?” Iain asked eagerly. “Do you know anything that might help the police identify him in this life?”

  “I didn’t see anyone,” Haven said. “Beatrice was in a field that had been turned
into a cemetery. I was lying on Piero’s grave, begging him for forgiveness. For some reason, I felt responsible for his death.”

  “Do you know why?” Phoebe probed.

  “No,” Haven told her. “I didn’t see how he died.”

  “Then we will need to meet again,” the old woman stated. “In two days.”

  “Two days!” Iain exclaimed. “How much longer is this going to take?”

  “As long as it needs to take,” Phoebe said calmly. “Now let’s discuss Haven’s responsibilities.”

  “But—” Haven started.

  “I believe I’ve made it perfectly clear why we can’t delay our plans,” Phoebe said. “I thought you would be anxious to get started as well. Every minute could mean the difference between life and death for your friend. And I’m certain you wouldn’t want to feel responsible for what might happen to the children at the Ouroboros Society.”

  “No! but . . .” Haven struggled to free herself from the quicksand of Phoebe’s logic, but she was already in too deep.

  “Well then, let’s not waste any more time. First I must insist that you never return to this house on your own. We’ll collect you every couple of days for a session. In time, you’ll have the vision you need.” Phoebe paused for emphasis. “As long as you continue to do what you’re told. Now are you ready to hear the plan?”

  Haven sighed. “I’m listening.”

  “Tomorrow morning, you will visit the Ouroboros Society and request to see Adam Rosier.”

  “What?!” Iain rose to his knees and yanked off his mask. “You never said she had to see him!”

  Phoebe calmly removed her own mask. “Allow me to finish, Mr. Morrow. Tomorrow Haven will visit the magos. She will ask for his help finding her friend. She will also allow him to provide her with lodging.”

  “Why?” Haven asked as Iain seethed.

  “Because you will need to stay very close to him in order to accomplish the second phase of your task. You must lower his defenses enough for us to strike.”