CHAPTER I
Boise, Idaho—Present Day
THE FEELING OF POWER in its purest form was enough to compel a man to break free of every law of decency and run through the streets naked and screaming. Stan knew that he did not have to kill the detective— but oh, how much fun it was to shoot the pig in the head.
Detective Lopez had taken too long. Much too long. There was a schedule to keep, people to see and all that. Lopez did give Stan what he had wanted, though—which made killing him in spite of it feel so much more satisfying. Innocence had so many uses, quite contrary to what decent people thought. “Stan is very creative,” he said.
Stan let his memory flood his mind. The nice thing about memories was that they brought with them the ability to relive a great moment. The moment he shot Lopez was one that he liked very much. How could something so wrong feel so right?
CHAPTER II
Somewhere in the Mountains of Idaho—Present Day
I DREAMT OF THE Book, felt its presence in the room like a living thing. I could swear it called to me in the night the way my mother would: sweetly.
I opened my eyes to see the sun high in the sky, the curtains pulled back, and a warm yellow sunbeam filtering across my bed. I yawned, reaching up with my arms over the forest of soft pillows. I felt my back pop and a rush of wonderfulness flow through me like the unkinking of a garden hose.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Michael’s voice made me start. He grinned and chuckled low.
“Michael, you scared me. What are you doing?” I pulled the covers up to my neck, though I was fully clothed in my pajamas.
“Relax, I’m just here to wake you. I couldn’t let you sleep any longer. It’s noon already, and the date I have planned for us is slowly slipping away.” I smiled and let the covers fall away. I struggled out of their grasp, my feet finding the floor. I discreetly checked my breath and ran a hand through my tangled hair. I was promptly self-conscious. We were dangerously mixing bedhead, dragon-breath, and Michael Alexander. He was standing only a few feet away, offering a date, and it made my heart ache. He was so thoughtful and was doing all he could to keep me from losing it. He had a way of calming me, making all the stress I felt seem far away.
“You kinda caught me at a bad time, Mister.” I could feel my face heat up and my palms begin to sweat.
He looked at me, stuttered, and cleared his throat, looking down at the floor. “I’ll just wait down in the kitchen. That way you can make your stunning entrance. I made you breakfast—well, lunch.” He had worked his way to the door as he spoke, and then he smiled, turned, and left.
I shook my head at him, smiling. As soon as the door closed, I leaped from the bedside to the bathroom. I got ready as quickly as I could, dressing in jeans and a pink hoodie. I stepped into my sneakers and ran down the stairs, feeling better than I could have imagined. One look in the mirror had told me I was still beautiful. Once again, no makeup required. I shook my head and let my hair sort itself out. I would never get used to this.
Michael was standing with his back to me at one of the counters, downing a large glass of orange juice. I stopped and looked at him, feeling my heart rise and thump in my chest. I snuck in and grabbed a stool, sitting on it. “So what’s the special?”
He jumped at the sound of my voice.
“Gotcha back,” I said.
He smiled.
“You are as smooth at a jungle cat.” When he turned toward me, a large bowl of exotic fruits came into view behind him. He had arranged everything in the shape of a heart.
I clicked my tongue and said, “Awww.” It was such a nice gesture, a little over the top in a hopeless romantic sort of way, but I liked that about him.
“There’s fresh bread, too,” he said, turning to the brick oven. He brought out a couple of gorgeous-looking rounds of sourdough, and abruptly my stomach turned.
Oh, no. I didn’t want to get sick again. Why was this happening? It was like a second puberty—no matter how you sliced that idea, it was bad. I spoke in an effort to distract myself. “You make your own bread, too?” I was impressed.
“Sure, why not?” He looked at me quizzically, cocking his head. “You okay? You look weird.”
“Oh, really?”
“Well. Not weird. I mean, you look great. But you look like you just smelled something gross…”
My mind fluttered, going into emergency procedures. Michael’s eyebrows lowered, making me wonder what he was thinking. “I’m fine; just hungry. It all looks so good.”
I guess I should have seen it coming. For the first time—well, the first time consciously—I heard something. It was Michael’s voice, but distant, as if it were coming from a thousand miles away. “I can’t go on like this; I have to tell her.” It was Michael, but not his spoken voice. It sounded like his thoughts. Was I reading his mind? I remembered what Kale had told me about the “gift.” It was a small voice in the fog, but it was all Michael’s.
“Well, good, ‘cause there’s plenty to eat here.” He had lost some of his trademark spark. I hadn’t really noticed it until it had gone, but it was always there toward the back of his eyes, illuminating his gaze. Until now. I wondered what he was holding back from me, and what it all meant.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing.” He moved the bowl of fruit over to where I was sitting, serving me. “Just thinking of how crazy all this is. We’re in this beautiful house with everything we could want: food, clothes, great trails to hike. No TV or games, but I really haven’t missed ’em all that much.”
I smiled; he was changing the subject, but I let him. He would talk to me when he was ready. I didn’t know why, but I felt safe around him, as if I were the only girl in the world. He had a way of making me feel needed and wanted. But there was a lot he was not telling me, and beyond the normal secrets people have, I suspected that he knew more than he was letting on about our kidnapping.
We sat and ate breakfast for quite a while, enjoying the luxury of one another’s company. I realized that we hadn’t really had much time to ourselves, for all that had happened. And if we had an easy time before the kidnapping finding common ground, our present situation was like double-sided tape between us.
We spent the day walking in the woods and doing forgettable things. I loved being with him, talking and watching him talk. My grandparents would say we were strolling, because life was slower then, more easily enjoyable, probably. Yeah, and there was horse poop in the streets too. I guessed every age had its gilded edge. But it didn’t matter. I was finally, finally, getting to indulge myself in what I wanted the very most: Michael Alexander. And it was glorious.
The air was cool with a hint of rain. The trees and the undergrowth opened to it, enjoined to the sense that something was coming. The woods came alive with anticipation of the life-giving rain, and we stood silently in the midst of it, looking up from russet-colored earth through giant redwood boughs that reached to the darkening sky.
Michael looked great in his worn-out blue jeans and dark blue windbreaker. We had both found hiking boots in our rooms. They were new, lightweight. I guessed Kale the killer had gifted us with such niceties. I winced at the thought of him. I wondered if that assessment was unfair now. I knew I needed to ask him about it and find out what was really going on. Why had he killed the man in the movie theater? Was that guy a “bad guy?” He had to be; I couldn’t see Kale murdering someone in cold blood.
“So … we need to talk,” Michael said unexpectedly. We were moving along a well-worn path, guarded by green shrubs and ferns that brushed our legs as we walked by.
“Yeah, I guess we should try to work out some nagging questions about this whole mess. What do you know so far about why we’re here?” I wondered if he believed Kale’s claim that I was a descendant of the Sons of El, a half-angel Immortal.
“Well …” He sucked in a heavy breath as he began. “I think I’m here by accident. He’s interested in you, and I just happened to get in th
e way.” His face clouded over.
“Yeah, but somehow I think Kale wouldn’t mess up like that. He wouldn’t do anything on impulse. I mean, just look at how he lives. Everything is just so.” I jumped up on a log that had fallen across the path, and Michael vaulted over it without even pausing.
“Well, it doesn’t matter why I’m here. He wants you, to train you … to do what? Develop your ‘powers,’ or the powers he believes you may have.”
“Michael …” I wondered if he remembered my head injury, and if he was still fighting the reality of what was going on. “I do have some abilities that I cannot explain. You remember when I fainted at football practice?” He nodded as we kept walking. “Well, it healed. I heal very fast. I’ve tried it out a few times, and it’s true. I’m also strong enough to kick down the heavy door to my room … but that one I’m still trying to figure out.” I left out the mind-reading bit. No use freaking him out.
“So he’s telling you that you’re part angel and part human? That’s kinda … unbelievable, really.”
“Yeah, I know.” I felt like I had to say that just so he wouldn’t feel awkward. But I believed it readily enough for me.
“You know, it feels like we’re in a movie or something. I just wonder when we’re going to wake up. Maybe when we do, we’ll find ourselves back in the mall parking lot where we started. On our first date.” His face registered sadness. I wondered if it was because of me or something else.
The memories came back, honestly warm and fuzzy. “I know, it’s weird, huh. But for what it’s worth, I believe Kale. I don’t know why—but I do.” Up until this point, I didn’t know what I really thought of our kidnapper. I didn’t like the situation. But I knew I could trust him. He seemed to have this code of honor, one he would never cross. They say chivalry is dead—but what if that age was still clinging to someone who had actually lived through it? How would they go about their days, I wondered. There was something about Kale that was different in that respect.
“I think I trust him,” I said, trying to close the deal. “He’s gotta know something we don’t.” I paused for a minute, thinking. “Ya know, it’s like he kidnapped me on purpose. Maybe to protect me from something?”
“Yeah, that’s true enough, I guess. From what, though? ‘The Brotherhood?’ I doubt they still exist, though they might have a long time ago.” Michael was playing with a long blade of grass, the tip bouncing in his hand like a bobber on a lake. It was hypnotic.
“Well, it’s possible. Who knows?” I said. “All I know is that I need him for now—I have too many questions about these so-called abilities, and he seems to have all the right answers.” I looked at Michael. “So far.”
He looked unconvinced.
“Look, I just want to be careful. I need to figure out what I can do, if anything, to get control of my abilities before I hurt someone I care about.”
“It’s not that.” He looked genuinely disturbed, worried. “Airel, you know even though we don’t know each other that well, I still feel you’re…” He hesitated, his steel blue eyes hiding behind a momentary shadow. He took my hand in his and stared at it. He was so warm. The touch of his skin made me feel a shock in my arm running straight for my heart.
“Airel, I want you to know I’m falling in love with you. And it’s not a crush—we all know what that is. But this…” He put a hand to his heart and closed his eyes, taking a moment.
I could not express in words how I felt, the way all of me was bound up right inside that moment.
“This is the real thing, at least I think it is. You can go a lifetime without ever finding anything real. I love you, Airel, and all I need from you is that you know that I’ve never felt like this before, about anyone.”
My heart hurt as it swelled with emotion. I took his face in my hands and made him look at me. This time his eyes were clear and brilliant. “Michael, I love you too. Well, at least I think that is what this is.”
I could almost feel his soft lips about to gently brush my own, in the prelude to a kiss—but I wouldn’t, I couldn’t. The anticipation of it was killing me. But I knew if I kissed him, it was all over. I would be gone for him, blinders on and hooked. I needed to hold back a small part of my heart until I figured out if this was real. And I may have been only seventeen, but I knew well enough that the first kiss with that special someone always started a fire that couldn’t be put out.
Michael pulled me closer, enveloping me with his strong arms. I laid my head on his chest in surrender. That’s where I belonged, where I wanted to be. If I could have stopped time, I would have frozen it.
Michael held me and I could feel his heart beating against my cheek. I searched the spaces in my mind and tried to read his thoughts again, but all I heard was crying. Was he crying? I pulled away and looked up at his face. It was dripping with pain and sadness. There, in the deep pools of his eyes, was a force that I didn’t understand.
Something was tearing him apart from the inside out. No tears were in his eyes, but I could hear it in his head. I could picture a little boy crying in a dusty corner. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself closer to him.
“It’ll be okay, Michael. I will always be here for you. Everything’s going to work itself out, you’ll see.” I buried myself in his scent. It was him, Michael, my Michael. I could feel that the little part of my heart I was trying to hold back was slipping. Michael, with all his charm and mystery, was the only man I wanted to be with.
We sat like that for quite a while, the storm gathering closer to us. When the wind began to whip and gust, we both realized we were cold and underdressed for the weather. We felt a little too far from the house and broke apart, standing. My feet had fallen asleep. I put my hands in my back pockets and stepped back from him a little. He seemed like whatever he had been dealing with, he was mostly over it now.
He looked at me mischievously and smiled, putting his arm around me. “So. Can I see one of these superpowers?” His eyes sparkled, a small grin spreading across his face.
“Boys.” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “You’re all the same.” I walked in a circle, looking on the ground for something sharp. “Okay, the one I know the best involves healing. It hurts—but it’s really cool.” I found a jagged-looking branch on the ground and began to try to dislodge it from its entanglements.
Michael stood up with a look of concern on his face. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’ll be fine. Watch.” I finally broke off a chunk and examined it. “Yep, that’ll do.” It looked like a giant shark’s tooth. I held it in my right hand and lifted it high over my head. Before I could change my mind or hesitate, and in the midst of Michael’s protests, I stabbed it down into my other hand as hard as I could.
“Airel. Are you okay?”
I growled in pain. I held my hand up, the chunk of branch buried and standing up in my palm. I wanted to do that little hopping dance that people do when they stub their toe or whatever. But I kept my courage by looking in Michael’s eyes. I could feel my hand begin to itch. I yanked the thing out of my palm and tossed it away. I held my bloody hand out to him, and we watched as the blood flowed, carrying little bits of dirt and bark and splinters with it.
The itch was more powerful than I remembered; I wanted to tear my own hand off in order to make it stop. Tiny fingers of flesh reached out and grasped one another like old friends. A patch was made, and then the skin closed over. What blood remained, I wiped on a nearby fern. Michael stared at me with his mouth hanging open.
“I am so showing that to all my friends,” he said with a look of utter amazement on his face.
“I don’t think so, Mister. It’s not a party game.”
“Duh, I was kidding. But you’ve gotta admit it, that’s the coolest thing ever.”
“Yeah, cool. But it’s also a secret. No spreading it around that your girlfriend can heal herself. All I need is a bunch of hormone-happy boys running around sticking me with knives and sticks just to see what will
happen.”
He laughed in a boyish way, making me giggle. “I won’t tell a soul.” He flashed me puppy-dog eyes. “Scout’s honor.” He gave me the two-fingered salute, making me laugh even more.
CHAPTER III
1250 B.C. –Arabia
KREIOS AND YAMANU PULLED up in midair, hovering high above the tree line. They conversed in thought.
There, west of the lake, in the trees. Kreios pointed to a thick stand of trees on the western edge of a long lake. It produced a tributary that wound down and around in the wide valley, finding its terminus in the sea, which was within sight at this altitude. Yellow flames of light danced within the darkness of the forest, and the sound of loud, undisciplined voices could be heard bouncing across the still water.
How many? Yamanu pulled his hood up over his head and tied the leather thong under his chin.
Eight hundred, maybe a thousand. More would have come if they knew about Ke’elei. I am surprised the Seer allowed them to have campfires … he has grown arrogant and foolish in his old age. Kreios touched the Sword hilt and felt better at once.
Yamanu grunted audibly. Maybe. Or he knows something we do not. Caution and a solid plan will go a long way toward keeping us alive long enough to see beautiful Eriel grow up and marry. His thoughts made colors of blue and red in Kreios’ mind. He did not know the meanings of every color, but he knew that it was never good if black or dark purple surrounded a particular thought.
Find their weakness and exploit it.
Kreios donned his hood. Yes. We may need some fog…
They cinched down their gear, double-checking that they would be silent, and turned toward the north side of the lake, downwind, to prepare their infiltration of the enemy camp.
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