The Dark River

by John Twelve Hawks

  Returning to the drawer, Gabriel inspected the other books. One was a worn English/Latin dictionary; another was a battered textbook for first-year Latin students. He opened the notebook and discovered his father’s translation of the manuscript. The meticulous handwriting reminded Gabriel of the shopping lists his father used to pin onto a bulletin board in the farmhouse kitchen. Both he and Michael would check the list every morning to see if their parents had decided to buy store candy or some other treat for supper.

  Holding the notebook close to a candle, Gabriel began to read about the saint’s experience in the First Realm.

  Four days after our celebration of the Virgin’s ascension into heaven, my soul left my body and I descended into this cursed place.

  Gabriel turned the page, reading as quickly as possible.

  They are demons in the shape of men and live on an island in the middle of a dark river. Light comes from fire—And then his father crossed this last word out and tried other alternatives. Light comes from flames and the sun is hidden.

  On the last page of the notebook, Matthew had underlined several passages.

  No faith. No hope. No path revealed. But by God’s grace, I found the black doorway and my soul returned to the chapel.

  Returning to the twelfth-century manuscript, Gabriel began to turn the vellum pages and inspect the illustrations. Columba wore a white robe and had a gold halo behind his head to show that he was a saint. But there were no demons or devils in this version of hell, only men wearing medieval clothing and carrying swords or spears. While the saint watched from behind a shattered tower, the citizens of hell tortured and killed one another with an unrestrained savagery.

  He heard the door squeak open and turned away from the altar. A figure passed through the shadows and entered his small circle of candlelight. Maya. She had one of the nuns’ black shawls wrapped around her head and upper body. Following Mother Blessing’s example, she had discarded the black metal tube and carried her Harlequin sword openly. The scabbard strap crossed her chest and the sword handle rose behind her left shoulder.

  “Did you find the book?”

  “Yes. But there’s more than that. My father didn’t know Latin, but he worked out a translation and wrote it down in a notebook. It’s all about Saint Columba crossing over to the First Realm. I guess my father wanted to learn about the place before he went there.”

  A flash of pain passed across Maya’s face. As usual, she seemed to know what he was planning. “He could be anywhere, Gabriel.”

  “No. It’s the First Realm.”

  “You don’t need to cross over. Your father’s body is still in this world. I’m sure he’ll come back eventually.”

  Gabriel smiled. “I don’t know if anyone would be eager to return to Mother Blessing.”

  Maya shook her head and began to pace. “I’ve known her since I was a little girl. She’s become so negative, contemptuous of everyone….”

  “Was she always so intense?”

  “I used to be in awe of her bravery and her beauty. I still remember traveling with her on a train up to Glasgow. It was a sudden trip—we didn’t have time to prepare—and Mother Blessing wasn’t wearing a wig or any sort of disguise. I remember how men looked at her; they were drawn to her, but they also sensed something dangerous.”

  “And you admired that?”

  “That was a long time ago, Gabriel. Now I’m trying to find my own path. I’m not a citizen or a drone, but I’m not a pure Harlequin either.”

  “And so what kind of person do you want to be?”

  Maya stopped in front of him and made no attempt to hide her emotions. “I don’t want to be alone, Gabriel. Harlequins can have children and families, but they’re never really attached to them. Once my father held up my sword and told me: ‘This is your family, your friend, and your lover.’”

  “Remember when we sat on that bench and looked out at the ocean?” He reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You said that you’d stand beside me no matter what happened. That meant a lot to me.”

  They were having a conversation—words floating through the cold air—but suddenly, almost like a magic spell, there was a transformation. The island and the chapel fell away and the world became the two of them. And Gabriel saw no concealment in Maya’s eyes, nothing false. They were connected to each other in some deep way, far beyond their roles as Traveler and Harlequin.

  The wind pushed at the chapel door, testing its strength, trying to force its way inside. Gabriel leaned forward and kissed Maya for a long time, but then she pulled back. A powerful tradition had just been destroyed like a scrap of paper tossed into a fire. The desire he had felt for so many months pushed all his other thoughts away. When he looked at her, it felt as if there were no barriers between them.

  Gently, he took the sword from her shoulder and placed it on a wooden bench. Gabriel returned to her, brushed the hair from her face, and they kissed again. Maya pulled away, but this time very slowly. She whispered in his ear.

  “Stay here, Gabriel. Please. Stay here….”

  21

  A n hour later they lay together on the floor wrapped in the black wool shawl. The room was still cold and they were only half-dressed. Gabriel’s shirt was draped over the bench, and Maya felt his warm skin touching her breasts. She wanted to stay here forever. His arms were around her; for the first time she could remember, it felt as if someone were protecting her.

  She was a woman lying with her lover, but her Harlequin self had been waiting like a ghost in a dark house. Suddenly she pulled away from Gabriel and sat up.

  “Open your eyes, Gabriel.”

  “Why?”

  “You have to get out of here.”

  He gave her a sleepy smile. “Nothing’s going to happen….”

  “Get dressed and return to the storage hut. Harlequins can’t be involved with Travelers.”

  “Maybe I could talk to Mother Blessing.”

  “Don’t even think about that. You can’t say anything to her and you can’t act differently. Don’t touch me when she’s around. Don’t look in my eyes. We’ll talk about this later. I promise. But right now you have to get dressed and go.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense, Maya. You’re an adult. Mother Blessing can’t tell you how to live your life.”

  “You don’t realize how dangerous she is.”

  “All I know is that she walks around this island giving orders and insulting everybody.”

  “Do this for me. Please.”

  Gabriel sighed, but he obeyed her. Slowly, he pulled on his shirt, boots, and jacket. “This will happen again,” he said.

  “No. It won’t.”

  “It’s what we both want. You know that’s true….”

  Gabriel kissed her on the lips and walked out of the chapel. When the door creaked shut, Maya was able to relax. She would let him return to the storage hut, wait a few minutes, then get dressed. Pulling the wool shawl around her body, she lay back on the floor. If she curled up in a ball, she could preserve the warmth of the Traveler’s body pressed against hers, that moment of intimacy and exaltation. A memory drifted through her mind of making a wish on the Charles Bridge in Prague. May someone love me and may I love him in return.

  She was gliding into a pleasant dream when the door creaked open and someone entered the chapel. She felt a moment of pleasure, believing that Gabriel had come back to see her again; then she heard that someone walking hard and fast across the wooden floor.

  Strong fingers grabbed her hair and pulled her upward. A hand slapped her across the face, drew back, and slapped again.

  Maya opened her eyes and saw Mother Blessing standing over her. The Irish Harlequin had abandoned her nun’s skirt and was wearing black pants and a sweater.

  “Get dressed,” Mother Blessing said. She picked up Maya’s shirt and tossed it in her direction.

  Maya removed the shawl and pulled on her shirt, fumbling with the buttons. Her feet were still bare, he
r shoes and socks scattered across the floor.

  “If you lie to me in any way, I’ll kill you in front of this altar. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes.”

  Maya finished buttoning her shirt and scrambled to her feet. Her own sword was about eight feet away on the bench.

  “Are you Gabriel’s lover?”

  “Yes.”

  “And when did this start?”

  “Tonight.”

  “I told you not to lie to me!”

  “I swear that’s true.”

  Mother Blessing stepped forward and grabbed Maya’s chin with her right hand. She studied the younger woman, looking for any sign of deceit or hesitation. Then she pushed Maya away.

  “I had my disagreements with your father, but I always respected him. He was a true Harlequin, worthy of our tradition. But you’re nothing. You’ve betrayed us.”

  “That’s not true.” Maya tried to sound strong and confident. “I found Gabriel in Los Angeles. I protected him from the Tabula—”

  “Didn’t your father teach you? Or did you just refuse to listen? We protect Travelers, but we have no attachments to them. And now you’ve indulged yourself with this weakness and sentimentality.”

  Maya’s bare feet touched the cold floor as she took a few steps to the right and picked up her sword. She placed the strap over her head so that the scabbard touched her back. “You knew me when I was growing up,” she said. “You helped my father destroy my life. Harlequins are supposed to believe in randomness. Well, there was nothing random about my childhood! I was slapped and kicked and ordered around by you and every other Harlequin who passed through London. I was trained to kill without doubt or hesitation. I killed those men in Paris when I was sixteen….”

  Mother Blessing was laughing softly, mocking her. “Poor little girl. I’m so sorry. Is that what you want to hear? Do you want pity—from me? Do you think anything was different when I was a child? I killed my first Tabula merc with a sawed-off shotgun when I was twelve! And you know what I was wearing? A white communion dress. My mother made me put it on so I could get closer to the altar and pull the trigger.”

  For a few seconds, Maya saw a hint of pain in the older woman’s eyes. And she had a vision of a child in a white dress, standing in the middle of a vast cathedral, splattered with blood. The moment passed, and Mother Blessing’s anger appeared to grow even more intense.

  “I’m a Harlequin, just like you,” Maya said. “And that means you can’t order me around….”

  Mother Blessing drew her sword with two hands, spun it over her head, and finished with the point aimed at the floor. “You’ll do whatever I tell you. Your relationship with Gabriel is over. You’ll never see him again.”

  Maya raised her right hand slowly—to show that she was not planning an immediate attack. Then she pulled her sword out of its scabbard and held it with the point facing up and the flat of the blade against her chest. “Call Captain Foley tomorrow and he’ll take us off this island. I’ll continue to protect Gabriel and you can guard his father.”

  “There’s no discussion about this. No compromise. You will submit to my authority.”

  “No.”

  “You’ve slept with a Traveler and now you’re in love with him. That sort of emotion just puts him in danger.” Mother Blessing raised her sword. “Because I’ve destroyed my own fear, I can create fear in others. Because I don’t care about my own life, all my enemies die. Your father tried to tell you this, but you were too rebellious. Maybe I can make you listen….”

  Mother Blessing extended her left leg. It was a graceful, practiced movement—like the beginning of a dance. And then the Irish Harlequin propelled herself forward, attacking with quick, sharp movements of the wrists and hands. She slashed and jabbed with unrestrained power as Maya gave ground and tried to defend herself. The candle flames fluttered and the sound of clashing swords cut through the silence.

  A few feet from the altar, Maya threw herself across the room like a diver entering the water. She somersaulted away from the other Harlequin, got back up, and raised her sword again.

  Mother Blessing renewed her attack, driving Maya toward the wall. The Irish Harlequin swung her sword to the right, and then twisted it around at the last moment, catching Maya’s sword near the hilt and ripping the weapon out of the younger woman’s hands. The sword spun through the air and landed across the room.

  “You will submit to me,” Mother Blessing said. “Submit, or accept the consequences.”

  Maya refused to speak.

  Without warning, the point of Mother Blessing’s sword cut across Maya’s chest, pulled back, cut across her left arm, pulled back, and then slashed her left hand. The three wounds felt like someone had burned her flesh. Maya looked into the Harlequin’s eyes and realized that the next movement of the sword would end her life. She remained silent until a thought came to her that was so powerful it pushed away her pride.

  “Let me see Gabriel one last time.”

  “No.”

  “I’ll obey you. But I need to say goodbye.”

  22

  T he Evergreen Foundation occupied an entire office building at Fifty-fourth Street and Madison Avenue in Manhattan. Most of the employees thought they worked for a nonprofit organization that gave out research grants and managed the endowment. Only a small staff of workers with offices on the top eight floors handled the Brethren’s less public activities.

  Nathan Boone passed through the revolving door and entered the atrium lobby. He glanced at the decorative waterfall and the small grove of artificial spruce trees placed near the windows. The architects had insisted on living evergreens, but each new transplant withered and died, leaving an unsightly carpet of brown needles. The eventual solution was a grove of manufactured trees with an elaborate air system that gave off a faint pine scent. Everyone preferred the imitation evergreens: they seemed more real than something that grew in the forest.

  Boone approached the security desk, stood in a small yellow square, and allowed the guard to scan his eyes. Once Boone’s identity had been verified, the guard checked a computer screen. “Good afternoon, Mr. Boone. You’re authorized to go to the eighteenth floor.”

  “Any other information?”

  “No, sir. That’s all it says. Mr. Raymond here will escort you to the correct elevator.”

  Boone followed a second guard to the last elevator in the hallway. The man passed an ID card in front of a sensor and then stepped out just before the doors closed. As the elevator began to rise, a video camera inside the elevator scanned Boone’s face and confirmed it with the biometric information in the Evergreen Foundation’s computer.

  That morning, Boone had received an e-mail that asked him to meet with members of the Brethren’s executive board. This was highly unusual. In the past few years, Boone had met the board only when Nash was in charge of the meeting. As far as he knew, the general was still on Dark Island in the Saint Lawrence River.

  The elevator doors opened and Boone stepped into an empty waiting room. No one was in the receptionist’s chair, but there was a small speaker on the desk.

  “Hello, Mr. Boone.” The voice that came from the speaker was computer generated, but it sounded like a real person—a young woman who was bright and efficient.

  “Hello.”

  “Please wait here in the room. We’ll let you know when the meeting begins.”

  Boone sat on a suede couch near a glass coffee table. He had never visited the eighteenth floor, and he had no idea what sort of equipment was evaluating his reactions. A highly sensitive microphone could be listening to his heartbeat while an infrared camera might be monitoring changes in his skin temperature—people who were angry or scared had flushed skin and a faster heart rate. The computer could analyze this data and predict the likelihood of a violent reaction.

  There was a faint clicking sound and then a drawer in the receptionist’s desk glided open. “Our sensors have informed us that you are car
rying a handgun,” said the computer voice. “Please place it in the drawer. It will be returned at the end of the meeting.”

  Boone walked over to the desk and stared at the open drawer. Although he had worked for the Brethren for almost eight years, he had never been asked to surrender his weapon. He had always been a reliable and obedient employee. Had they started to doubt his loyalty?

  “This is our second request,” the voice said. “A failure to comply will be considered a violation of security.”

  “I’m in charge of security,” Boone announced, then realized that he was talking to a computer. He waited for a few seconds, just to assert his independence, and removed the handgun from his shoulder holster. When he placed it in the desk drawer, three lines of light surrounded the weapon in a precise triangle. The drawer glided shut, and Boone returned to the couch. Boone didn’t mind being scanned by a machine, but it annoyed him to be treated like a criminal. Obviously, the program hadn’t been calibrated to show different levels of respect.

  He stared at the large painting on the wall in front of him. It was a pastel blotch with legs that resembled a squashed spider. Three doors, each painted a different color, were at the end of the room. There was no way out except for the elevator, and the computer also controlled that system.

  “The meeting is about to begin,” the voice said. “Please go through the blue door and walk to the end of the corridor.”

  Boone stood up slowly and tried not to show his irritation. “And you have a nice day,” he said to the machine.

  The blue door moved smoothly into the wall the moment the sensors detected his body. He walked down a hallway to a stainless-steel door without a visible lock or handle. When this door slid open, he entered a conference room with massive windows that gave a view of the Manhattan skyline. Two members of the Brethren’s executive board sat behind a long black table—Dr. Anders Jensen and Mrs. Brewster, the British woman who was pushing for the new Shadow Program in Berlin.