by A.R. Rivera
Maca-freaking-roni!
Before I knock on the front door, it opens. Filling the wide doorway is the scraggly, astonished physicist in residence. My good friend and partner in all things Threestone.
Elijah Thacker stands there gaping for a solid five seconds while I take in his appearance. He’s changed, not too much, but enough for me to think twice. His dark brown, collar length hair has been trimmed much shorter. It’s shaved on the sides. The top is longer and slicked back. His beard that he was keeping neatly trimmed when I left just a few months ago is now much longer. And his mustache—dear God, it’s pointed and curled on the ends—like he’s styling his facial hair.
His lips curve a little, but his suddenly white pallor makes the expression seem forced. He whispers my name. “G?” and then looks around the street before pulling me inside.
No sooner does the door close behind me than Eli has latched onto me, hugging me in an uncomfortable embrace. It’s tight—too tight as his lanky arms actually lift me from the floor and the bellowing sound of his laughter fills the room. Tight enough to find the weird ponytail, bun-thingy hanging on the back of his head.
“It’s really you! I can’t believe it!”
“I haven’t been gone long enough to allow this,” I say and push away. I’m chuckling, too, of course. Not only because the man-bun he’s rocking looks ridiculous, but because it feels like I’ve been gone a lifetime and it’s really good to see him.
“I was wondering about you. Do you know how long you’ve been gone?”
“A few months, I guess.” I’m shrugging pointing to his head. “Whoever told you that hipster hair looks good was lying.” His beard is pretty cool, but the waxed-up western frontiersman mustache ruins it.
“It’s been longer. Much longer.” Eli’s wearing a huge smile as he covers his chin with one hand and wipes it down the length of his beard, smoothing it.
“No way.” I shake my head. “Six months tops.”
All of a sudden I notice how different he seems. Not just the hair, but the posture. The girth he’s gained around his stomach and the lines sprouting around his eyes. He’s gotten older.
Eli sobers as he counts the time I was gone. “One thousand, two hundred and ninety-six days.”
“How long is that?” I have to ask because even trying to do the math makes my brain feel numb.
“You’ve been gone for three and a half years, G.”
It’s weird, isn’t it? The way a person can say the most unbelievable thing and yet there’s no room to doubt their word because the weight of the message settles in your gut in a way that confirms it. That’s how it is right now, hearing what Eli’s saying. I don’t like it. I don’t want to hear it. It is impossible. But I know it’s true.
I make myself at home on the tattered green couch in his living room, holding my head in my hands, as he goes on explaining what life was like after I disappeared into a blue funnel cloud in the middle of Sepulveda Boulevard.
“Those Homeland Security agents took me into custody. Said I wasn’t under arrest so I didn’t need a lawyer, but they wouldn’t let me leave either.” He pauses, sitting in the arm chair that matches the sofa. “It was a nightmare. They didn’t let me sleep or make a phone call.”
When he trails off, I look up to find him staring at me with a look I can only describe as sorrowful.
“They held me for almost two weeks, trying to force me to cooperate.”
I nod my head, recalling how he mentioned something like that when I saw him in Ivanhoe.
“When I didn’t, they went after my parents.”
Hold on a second. “You didn’t cooperate?”
Eli shakes his hipster head, smoothing the front of his button down shirt. “No. As a result, my Mom and Dad’s store was audited. Suddenly my father, who worked for the IRS for thirty-five years, has no idea of some long-standing tax law? And they’re in major debt to the IRS?”
“Unbelievable.”
“Unjust.” Eli elaborates. “The bastards shut’em down.” He shakes his head, and I remind myself that Eli’s parents owned a greeting card store somewhere in Tujunga.
“Of course, that meant no more income, no more private insurance either.” His gaze is lost in the air between us, filled with sad disgust. “My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer less than a month later. My Dad was worried sick.”
“I’m really sorry to hear—”
“I don’t have any idea what you’ve been through, but I was followed for months after that. There was a car parked outside my house every day.”
Eli’s eyes come back to me. He looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him. “My mother is dead. My father is all alone. And here you are, in 2016.”
“I saw you a few weeks ago in Ivanhoe,” I argue, but he doesn’t hear me. He just keeps dragging out whatever point he’s trying to make, which seems contradictory when I think about it.
“I expected three months. Possibly six if there were complications. After a year I stopped waiting and started assuming the worst.”
“You thought I was dead.” I guess.
“Of course I did. The more time passed, the more sure I was.” He sighs, seeming drained now of his former anger.
“But I saw you just a few weeks ago in Ivanhoe,” I repeat and when Eli’s expression takes on obvious puzzlement, I revise. “Didn’t I?”
“No, you didn’t.” His spine goes ramrod straight. “What was our safety word?”
“Macaroni. You picked at random from the dictionary.”
“Did you ask me for the safety word in Ivanhoe?” His tone slips up an octave with the question.
“Yes,” I say, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m not an idiot.”
Eli slowly nods his head, considering this information. Then tilts his head to one side before saying, “Perhaps we should have gone with a random pairing of words, more a verbal combination lock, if you will.”
“Are you trying to tell me that the you I spoke to in Ivanhoe wasn’t actually you?” Just hearing myself ask the question makes me reconsider this interaction. “Oh my God, it wasn’t you. I bet you aren’t even you.”
Jumping from the couch, I start for the door. “Your hair should have tipped me off. My friend Elijah would be pestering about the samples I brought. He’d be drilling me for information.”
As is say it, I remember that I gave my samples to that other version of Eli—the one who admitted to being a traitor and working with DHS. And then I also remember that I never opened a gateway to get here. I was skewered and just woke up here. One hand automatically checks my stomach as I consider the possibilities.
Here could still be there. Couldn’t it? No, Abi-Two said it was 2018 there. This Eli said it’s 2016. But I left a plane where it was 2012. Geez, how many versions of my father thought they were doing something original when they enlisted Eli to help?
Eli tries to stop me from heading out by throwing himself in front of the door frame, but I pass him without a hiccup. The door opens inward and he slides along.
“G, wait.”
“This isn’t my home,” I say and reach for the pouch with the stones the second I hit the porch. Realizing there are people in the neighboring houses, I twist towards the driveway and follow it into the backyard.
“G, you can’t do that here!” Eli hollers behind me.
I’m already in front of his garage and point at it. “I’ll do it in the garage.”
“Not in there, you’ll burn the place down.”
Ignoring him, I walk through the side door into his detached garage and find it’s empty. Well, there’s no car at least.
“No green Jetta.” Another point of proof that I am not in the right plane.
“My wife drove it to the store.”
I turn around, surprised. “You’re married?”
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“When?”
“June of twenty-fifteen. Last year.”
The rubber pouch is in my hands. I
swing the small bag by the corner, trying to taunt him. “What’s wrong with her that she married you?”
“Nothing that I know of,” Eli says, crossing his arms and standing feet parted. It’s then I notice that he’s wearing khaki colored jeans and flip flops. He’s a full-on hipster douche. “She’s going to be upset if she comes home with a trunk full of groceries and finds her house without electricity.”
“Ooh,” I laugh even though it doesn’t feel funny. “Somebody is totally whipped.”
Just as Eli squares his shoulders—I assume to launch his retort—the big garage door starts rolling up. On the other side, revealed slowly a few inches at a time, is Eli’s same green Jetta. As the door rolls up, and the driver takes in the sight of us standing inside the parking space, she honks. Eli and me both back up, while the overhead light kicked on by the garage door reflects over the windshield, preventing me from making out the face of the Jetta’s driver, Eli’s mysterious wife.
The compact car rolls to a stop and the engine cuts out. The garage door rolls back down, shutting the three of us in. And the woman in the car has yet to emerge, until Eli steps over to the drivers’ door and opens it.
Then the interior light switches on.
I see long, blond hair. Gorgeous almond eyes that I absolutely fall into. And those unforgettable pink lips as my girlfriend—my Abi?—steps out of the car.
I’m staring at her. Lost. Speechless. I’ve spent months missing her, thinking about her, and she’s still angry with me.
She’s glaring between me and Eli as he speaks quietly in her ear. She nods her head and closes the car door. I watch her walk in skin tight pants and a modest pink tank top to the opposite side of the car. Her flip flops match the pair that Eli the douche is wearing as he follows after her, still talking too low for me to hear.
I assume he’s apologizing for my being here.
“Hey, Ab.” I manage to say before she stalks out of the garage without acknowledging me. “You look good.”
She stops in front of the door that leads to the backyard and speaks from over her shoulder. “Yeah... I’m glad you’re not dead.”
She disappears from the garage with Eli on her heels.
The second they’re gone, I’ve got the stones out and I’m telling them, “Take me to my home, please, to the plane where I came from.”
Nothing happens.
No flickering lights.
No sounds of electricity crackling.
No swirls of blue fog that catches everything on fire.
Not even a single colorful wheel locked inside a miraculous bubble.
All that happens is... nothing.
“Well?” I say to the stones and wait some more.
“Aw, geez.” I throw the set back into their pouch and rub at the ache forming behind my eye. “What am I supposed to think?”
The last version of my dad that I came across said that the stones are absolutely loyal to the one that keeps them. If he’s right, then I must be stuck here for a reason. But what is that reason? Is it because that gorgeous glaring blond that just passed by really is my Abi or are the Threestone just being stubborn?
“Have it your way,” I mumble, stuffing the pouch with the stones into my pants.
Just as I’m wondering what to do next, or how to handle this situation—because, let’s face it, it’s a mind job—Eli slinks back into the garage like a dog with his tail between his legs.
“I wanted to tell you...” he starts but trails off.
“But you just didn’t know how to tell me you’re screwing my girl. Right? I’m sure it didn’t really seem to matter, though, because I was dead anyways. Right?”
He doesn’t respond.
I keep going.
“I bet you told yourself I’d be happy for you, didn’t you?”
Eli has yet to answer.
“So, should I be happy, Eli? Do you want me to be grateful that you were taking care of my girlfriend?”
Eli shrugs, looking at me in a way that measures me. The thoughtfulness chaps my ass.
He is an asshole.
“Man, you are a piece of work. I’m out there risking my life and you’re over here, what? Taking advantage of my girlfriend?”
“Ex-girlfriend,” Eli says as if to correct me.
My fists clench.
“We may have been on and off sometimes, but Abi was never an ex-girlfriend.”
He goes quiet again, looking at his weird toes that are too skinny to be considered attractive.
“And where in the hell did you get those flip-flops?”
Eli’s head jerks up. “Abi bought them for me.”
That makes me laugh. “Geez, did she tell you to grow out your hair, too? Because that’s just as ridiculous.”
“We thought you were dead.” Eli’s hands slice through the air. “Okay? You were gone. Vanished. Do you know how shitty I felt? I sent you away, G. I was responsible.”
“How did you two meet, anyway?”
“I took her the letter.” He sighs. “As we agreed I would in the event that you didn’t come back.”
The letter? Oh, the letter I wrote in case I never saw her again.
“How long was I gone before you decided to put the moves on my fiancée?”
Eli scoffs. “You were never engaged.”
The skin of my face washes with heat. Seething fury. “So, you took her the letter, and what? You two bonded over sorrows, did you?”
Eli brushes both hands down his beard to smooth it. “That’s enough.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, glaring. “Because I just got started.”
“I refuse to play this game. I don’t need to justify my feelings to you or explain my relationship with my wife.”
I step in close, invading in his space. “Aren’t you worried you’re giving yourself too much credit?”
“I knew you’d be upset.” Eli shakes his head. “I promised her I wouldn’t fight with you.”
I nod and inch in just a bit closer to really get in his face, and speak softly. “You can’t even imagine the shit I had to go through to get back here. Do you know I killed a man, with my bare hands? I was as close to him as I am to you.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I was just saying it to rile him, but I’m the one getting stirred up seeing Eli’s eyes widen. “All I needed from him was a set of stones. You, Eli, were supposed to be my friend. I trusted you with everything, and you slept with my fiancée.”
“Ex-girlfriend.” He grinds the word out between clenched teeth.
One swing is all it will take. One and done. If it were anybody else, I wouldn’t hesitate. But since I’m still not sure about which plane I’m on or why, I probably shouldn’t burn the bridge until I’m sure I don’t need it.
“It doesn’t matter what she was. She was mine and you broke the code.”
Then again, fire is fun to watch.
“If you hurt him, I swear on my life, I’ll never speak to you again.”
The moment my hand snaps back, I hear her voice.
Turning to face the topic of conversation standing in the doorway, my breath wants to catch at the way her eyes meet mine. She’s just so beautiful.
She averts her eyes to Elijah and her face softens. “Food’s ready.” With that, she turns and walks back into the house.
Eli walks past me without the gloating look I expect. In fact, he seems very sad. “You’re welcome to stay if you’re hungry.”
“I’m welcome to stay?” I ask, mimicking his tone. “I better be, after all, the shit I’ve been through, you should be rolling out the damn-red carpet!” He ignores me and keeps on walking. I’m mocking an empty garage.
This is what I get for doing the right thing.
This can’t be my Abi.
I mean, sure she looks like mine, but . . .
“Eli, did you ever say the safety word?” I can’t remember. I truly can’t remember anything at all and have no idea if it’s the inter-
dimensional travel or just plain shock settling in.
“Yes, we did.” He answers. “I asked you, remember?”
“Macaroni,” I repeat with a sigh and try to pretend that the way Abi leans towards Eli when she talks to him isn’t annoying.
But it really only takes a few sentences. She’s telling him about something that happened in the grocery store parking lot when I toss my fork onto the plate that’s still piled with the potato salad and chicken sandwich she made. The sound echoes loud in the small space.
They both look at me from across the small dining room table.
“Let’s see some daylight between you two.” I gesture at the miniscule gap between the two nauseating people.
Abi huffs and sets a hand on Eli’s thigh. “It’s been four years, G. Get over it.”
I’m out of my seat, leaning over the table and pointing an accusing finger when her eyes meet mine. And my mind washes blank.
“I’ll get over it when I’m damn well ready.” It’s a lame comeback, but it’s all I’ve got.
Eli stands up. “Let’s all calm down.”
Abi tucks her hair behind her ears and rolls her eyes at the man she’s supposedly in love with when he isn’t looking and I want to crack a smile. Of course, Abi notices and stands up. Back to ignoring me, she addresses only Eli. “You’ve got a lot of work, so I’m going to go lie down and leave you to it.”
As she turns away, her gaze skates over me. “No fighting.” She orders and passes out of the small kitchen and into the back of the house.
We both watch her go.
“Did you see that? She couldn’t take her eyes off me.”
If the jab bothers Eli, he isn’t showing it. Matter of fact, he dips his head to hide a smile. “She’s right, you know. We have a lot of ground to cover and not a lot of time.”
That grabs my attention. I’ve been travelling for months. “Anxious to get me away from the misses?” I’m not stupid. I know why he doesn’t want me to stick around.
“Actually, it’s the other way around,” Eli says, waving for me to follow him to the living room where we’ll and have a little tete a tete like a couple of old ladies at high tea.
“Ouch.”
Eli chooses the easy chair at the far end of the room so naturally, I choose the seat furthest from him.
He leans forward, wiping his palms on his pants. “That was harsh. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s... whatever.” I shrug, telling myself that this place probably isn’t even my home so I shouldn’t let it get to me.
“I know this is a lot to take in and it can’t be easy.”
“That’s your sympathy talking.” I give a cutting look. “All you’ve got is what you think this feels like. You don’t know jack-shit.”
Eli concedes with more of a sway than a nod. His eyes remain averted as he says, “I need you to know that I never meant for things to work out this way. I really, truly believed and would have bet my life savings on your being gone forever.”
Then he looks at me, his face totally open, letting me see that he’s telling the gods-honest truth. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, G.”
A lump notches my throat and I’m so fucking angry at him, but then... what did I expect? I, of all people, know how easy it is to fall in love with Abi Winston. I’ve done it nearly every day since we met. But I can’t say any of this to Eli. Because screw that, he’s not getting off the hook that easy.
I cough to clear the phlegm from my throat and deflect. “No hurt feelings over here, Nancy.”
Eli stands from his chair and walks out with that clicky-clacky sound that only flip-flops can make muttering about coming right back. I stare at my pile of stuff sitting in the corner waiting for me until he returns with a folded sheet and blanket.
“I’m exhausted.” He says, offering up the bedding. “We’ll have to talk shop tomorrow.”
I nod to agree, but then blurt, “I never asked the stones to bring me here.”
When Eli just stares at me, waiting for more information I begin explaining the odd method of travel—because I thought I was dying—but it took me from the plane with Abi Two, to here, where my possible girlfriend has inexplicably moved on with the only other person that knows about the stones.
And the stones... I start going in to all of the things I’ve learned about the Threestone, and then am carried away when learning it must have been another version of Eli that gave me their proper name because this Elijah swears it wasn’t him that I spoke to on that hilltop shack in Ivanhoe.
And what the stones do in a storm, how they slowed the waterfall and my descent.
They can hold charges. One pair absorbs another pair.
And I can’t forget about how I sometimes see these weird lines when the gateway is triggered because Abi-Two told me to mention it
And then of course, how I met Doyen and why I killed him.
“Does she know?” I’m in the middle of telling how I decided to attack a man when the thought occurs to me and I have to know. “Have you told Abi about the Threestone?”
Eli gives a slight nod that I find infuriating. “Of course.” He says.
“Why would you do that? What the hell were you thinking? You’ve put her in danger, now, too, Eli.”
“I had to tell her.”
“What if something happens to her because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut? Are you prepared for that?” It’s a crushing possibility. One I can’t even begin to—
“We’re getting off track, here.’ He says. “So you came across two other versions of your father, one of me, and one of Abi. Then how does this Doyen fit into the equation? ”
I nod, relenting to his logic. The topic is too dark.
I think I could handle just about anything. I mean, of all the things I’ve seen and gone through up to this point—even Abi and Eli hooking up—I think I’m handling the trauma pretty well if shoving it back into the furthest recesses of my mind counts as handling.
But even the smallest possibility that something could happen to Abi... that Daemon could find her.
Dammit, that’s the very reason I let her go and he’s pulled her right back into the fray!
“Three versions of Daemon,” I say, pulling my mind back once more from that very dark place. “I met three completely different versions of Daemon.” I begin explaining the different ages and ways we crossed paths, and then lead into the conversation and reasoning of Abi-Two and her espoused version of me.
Of course. The only way I end up with her is in another universe.
Ultimately leading into the problem du jour. “Is she right?” I ask and wait for him to answer, but he just sits there. Thinking.
“I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. Hell, they’re already filthy. But I really don’t want to... hurt a kid.”
Eli has been listening closely this entire time. He’s nodded along and asked questions, even dug out a pen and paper to make notes, but right now, his face is awash with confusion.
“You’ve considered it?”
It’s a simple question. Only three words, but they’re overflowing with scorn and incredulity. They fill me with shame as I nod my head and explain.
“Well, the only evidence I have that this boy is a young version of Daemon is the logic of Abi-Two. And her logic seemed pretty sound. She matched the Tresunus symbol and the necklace to the boy I met in the woods in that slow plane. So yes, I have actually considered going back there and killing him before he grows up and kills me, and thousands of other people that may get in his way.”
We’ve both been sitting down up to this point. Before I even finish my last sentence, Eli is jumping from his chair. “You can’t do that.”
“But he’s Daemon.”
“G . . .” He’s quiet for a moment. Thinking again. “This boy you met, you say he’s another version of the same man that killed your father.”
“He is!”
“I believe you, it’s just that—wh
y would you think it’s okay to even consider harming an innocent?”
“Because this so-called innocent will grow up to be a mass murderer.”
Eli is shaking his head vigorously, speaking emphatically, and slicing one hand into the other palm. “General deterrence is one thing, but you cannot punish a person for something that they haven’t done—for something they may never do. It’s wrong!”
“I’m not doing anything at this point,” I argue. “I’m asking you, Eli, because I have limited time and options when it comes to stopping Daemon.”
“The lines you describe near the vortex concern me.”
“Exactly, so this is something I have to consider, knowing who he is.”
Eli scoffs and throws his hands into the air. “Who he is? What about you, you hypocrite? Have you ever considered that your father bears some blame in all of this?”
This guy is pushing his luck. “You keep your mouth shut about my dad.”
Eli’s eyes widen. It’s not until he takes few paces back that I realize I’ve jumped into his face. “All I’m saying is that if he took something from someone and that action caused this Nahuiollin, as your father called him, to lose his entire family—”
“What are you talking about?” I practically shout. I hate it when he speaks in riddles.
“I’m connecting the dots, G. You said Doyen was another version of Daemon, right?”
“Yes, him and the little native kid.”
“And Doyen told you his story of how a stranger caused his entire family to be killed just before he showed you a set of stones.” He pauses letting my mind soak in the information. “Doyen also said he was forced to watch them die and was left alive as punishment.”
“Okay . . .” I say, drawing the word out.
“He then said the stranger returned and took him to the plane where you found him.
“Your father spoke about cyclical mistakes and ripples in ponds. He told me that he couldn’t tell you anything because he feared you’d make the same mistakes he did.”
“You are confusing the hell out of me. Just get to the damn point.”
“The alternate Abi asked you about the young boy, right?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Okay. So you’ve connected the boy to Doyen. Here’s my theory: you’ve already repeated the one mistake that ensures this problem with Daemon won’t end with you.”
“What the hell makes you think that?” I’m genuinely offended. I haven’t told anybody anything about these stones.
“Because you went after the one your father called Nahuiollin and that was the one person he specifically asked you to ‘stay the hell away from.’”
“No, he didn’t.” I’m the one shaking my head now.
“He wrote it in his journal, G. The one I copied for you.”
I’m still shaking my head. “I never got to read any of that. The pages got all discolored after my first crossing.”
Eli is pulling at the rubber band in his hair. “Well, it’s lost then. I made you that copy and then had to burn the rest.” He says as his dark brown hair falls down to just below his shoulders like a stupid hipster.
“What do you mean, you burned it?”
“I had to. To keep your secret, G. To protect you and the existence of the stones at all costs; it was one of the contingencies your father created, that if I felt any heat, I was to burn all traces of that paperwork and the equations.” A pained look crosses his face. He scratches his scalp and then tucks the locks back up into another terrible man-bun as he talks.
“That day you left, I managed to drive away before they could arrest me. I drove straight to Ivanhoe with your father’s box in my trunk and buried it there in the hill where we first found them.”
He sighs. “It was a good thing I did, too, because I was taken in for question the moment I got back. They held me for two days an let me go. I came home to find my house had been ransacked.”
“Bastards,” I mutter and he agrees.
“It’s a pity, too—because those equations could have really helped us.” He shakes his head again and looks down. They were watching me for a several weeks. The first time I noticed there was no tail on me, I drove back out to those hills and barbecued everything.
“But the point I’m trying to make here is if you’d been able to read even the first entry, you would have learned a brief history of how the stones were first discovered, and then your father said you were to stay far away from Nahuiollin.” He holds up a finger. “Wait here. I’m going to check on Abi.”
“No, no, no. You need to stay here and finish your point.” I insist.
Eli gives a heavy sigh and sits back down in the chair facing the sofa. Looking up at me, he suggests I sit as well. Once I do, he begins feeding the information I’ve given him back to me in a way that nauseates me.
I hate it when he’s so clearly right.
“You’ve gone after Daemon, just like your father asked you to.” He nods, folding his hands. “But I don’t think that was the right move. You see, he let you watch what Daemon did to fuel you for the fight, but you were misdirected by that one, tiny mention of Daemons given name.”
Nahuiollin, I have been waiting for you. Some of my father’s last words spring to mind.
He mentioned him once, in that final, all-important and defining interaction. “If my father had never said the name, I never would have gone looking for him.”
“You never would have been in danger of repeating his biggest mistake.”
“What mistake? Hunting down the man that killed him? That’s what he asked me to do. To find him and stop him.”
“Yes, he did. And he was right to send you after Daemon. He’s got to be stopped. But Nahuiollin, he’s still just a kid.”
“I watched that last DVD. I heard my father apologize to Nahuiollin.” I say, and hear the voice of my father saying, “Sacrifice with purpose.”
I’m not intending to say them out loud, but there they are. Haunting the very air I breathe are the same words my father used that day, though I still have no idea what he hoped to gain by laying down and dying at Daemon’s hand. “What does it mean?”
“I think your father was trying to make up for what he did to his own version of Nahuiollin, without realizing that that little boy was long gone the moment he watched his family die for his mistakes.”
This is something I can understand completely. It was just a few short months ago that I saw my own father’s murder via video and I will never go back to who I was before that moment. I can’t.
I saw something traumatizing, but as an adult with a fully formed brain. If the one my father called Nahuiollin had anything in common with Doyen, then he was a little know-nothing boy when he watched his family be slaughtered by people in his own tribe. Maybe people he’d known his whole life.
“What happens inside a kids mind after something like that?” Eli asks, but I think he’s speaking more to himself than me.
“If I’ve already remade my father’s biggest mistake, what’s next? Do I leave that boy there all alone? Won’t that be worse for him in the long run?”
Eli blinks. “Probably, but—not to sound too callous—but at least he will be there without access to stones and isn’t that the very best place he could be?”
“Wait.” I hold up a hand because what Elijah has just said reveals an entirely new path that my father might have chosen. “Are you saying that my father went back to check on the kid?”
“I believe he and many other versions of him did, yes. It’s the human thing to do—to have compassion. It’s also the only way for three different versions of the same man to end up in different planes. Also, one of the directives in your father’s journal was, ‘Always go back and check.’ Another was, ‘stay the hell away from Nahuiollin.’”
Damn, I should have read the journals when I had the chance. “So, let’s say my dad went back, realized his mistake and tried to make it up to the kid who helped him
find the stones.”
Eli brushes his hand down his beard. “Doyen told you he was removed from his world by an alternate and then that man ‘paid the price.’”
I sit back to think this over.
“So, you’re saying that my father’s interaction with that younger version of Daemon made him the way he is now?”
“In essence, yes. I mean, a person always chooses their path, but their choices are heavily influenced by the environment. Their social location and culture.”
“Like, nature versus nurture?”
Eli is nodding. “I believe we influence our society just as much as it influences us.”
“So... according to Daemon, my father was the villain?” I ask, tasting the words tainted with disbelief.
Eli is staring stone-faced as he answers. “I cannot say for certain, but it’s highly probable.”
