“It’s going to take forever to search. Liza said my dad has a week. Less now,” M said quietly, curling her fingers in his.
“We’ll figure it out. I promise. We’ll just eat while we figure it out,” Ash assured her. “There’s supposed to be a view of the temple in the dining room. Plus, I’m sure everyone who works here knows all about the place. It’s basically why the hotel exists. We’ll ask our waiter to give us a rundown.”
M nodded. “Okay.” She glanced down at herself. “I don’t even want to think about how many days I’ve been wearing these jeans. I’m going to change.” He released her, and she disappeared into the bathroom with the bag with the clothes she’d bought at Cotton On during the layover in the Singapore airport.
Ash had bought some clothes too, and quickly switched his old khakis for new ones and his T-shirt for a button-down. He heard the shower run for about forty-five seconds—clearly even in the shower she couldn’t stand still.
About two minutes later she reappeared. On the hanger the dress she’d bought looked like a long gray T-shirt, but on her it was perfect. Beautiful. “You look nice,” he said.
“You too. Of course, you’d have looked more than nice if you’d gone for the pants I picked out,” she teased, grabbing her backpack and heading for the door. The idea of talking to the locals had calmed her down a little, thankfully.
“I’d have looked like a bloody moron,” he muttered, following her. M had tried to convince him buy one of the truly astounding selection of slim-cut pants with elasticized cuffs about four inches wide.
They were on the early side for dinner, so easily got a table overlooking the temple. It seemed more like a fortress than a place of worship.
“It looks spiky. Like it’s designed to keep you away,” M commented, echoing Ash’s thoughts. They both stared out at the gray stone structure in silence until the waiter appeared.
M waited until he’d handed them menus before jumping right in: “What can you tell us about the temple?”
The waiter smiled. “It is the largest Buddhist monument in the world, constructed with over two million stone blocks. It is estimated construction began in the Sailendra dynasty, around A.D. 750, taking roughly seventy-five years to complete.”
Ash knew the man must have answered the question hundreds of times, but his tone remained pleasant. “The temple was almost lost to us. It was covered in volcanic ash during—”
M interrupted, speaking what Ash could only guess was Indonesian. He blinked in surprise. How many languages did she speak? He wondered if she had any idea how truly exceptional she was.
The waiter’s face became more animated as he started to answer. M held up a hand and said something in an apologetic tone, and when the man began to speak again, it was in English.
“Your friend tells me you intend to make a pilgrimage to the Candi Temple,” the waiter said.
“I explained we were interested in the spiritual aspect of the temple, more than the historical,” M explained.
She was trying to find out the most sacred place, assuming the artifact would be hidden there for safekeeping. Ash was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that areas dedicated to Buddha, Christ, Shiva, and Thor could all have power over an artifact that contained an Egyptian god.
But now wasn’t the time. When he had recovered all the pieces and returned them to the Eye, he could discuss these questions with Philip. If Philip ever forgave him, that was. He focused in on what the waiter was saying. He knew no detail would escape M’s notice. Her father had been the same way, asking Ash about small things he’d said weeks before, remembering that Ash had used his left hand to write on one occasion even though he usually used his right.
“As pilgrims to Candi Borobudur, you need to understand that the monument itself, the way it is constructed, is part of the teaching,” the waiter explained. “It forms a mandala. As you walk through it, you are symbolically following the path from samsara to nirvana. It is important you walk clockwise. The carved reliefs of the life and teachings of the Buddha will guide you toward enlightenment. At the top, you’ll see the central stupa. It is empty, a symbol of the enlightened mind.”
Ash noticed a couple being seated several tables away. The waiter turned to leave. “I’ll be right back to take your order. I’m happy to answer more questions as well.”
“Thank you,” Ash and M said together.
“I think we found our road,” M commented when he was out of earshot. “The path you walk through the temple.”
“What is ‘samsara’? Nirvana is total happiness, right?” Ash asked.
“Pretty much. It comes from a root word that means ‘to blow out,’” M began.
Ash laughed.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said. “It’s just that you know far too much for a schoolgirl.”
“Tell me about it. I was counting the days until I could get out,” she replied. “So nirvana—it’s when you blow out greed and hate and delusion. You don’t have any more personal desires, and you break free from the cycle of samsara. That’s the cycle of birth, mundane existence, death, and rebirth.”
“Okay, so besides the spiritual, we have an actual road we can walk with actual feet. The waiter—”
“Sarip,” M told him.
“Sarip. Sarip told us we have to walk clockwise. So in a circle. Could the glyph for sun have to do with that?” Ash said. “Like following the path of the sun?” He pulled out his cell to Google it, ignoring the five new texts he’d received from Philip. He was sure they all said variations on the same thing—“Get back here with the pieces of Set and the girl.”
There was no point in reading them. He knew M, and Philip didn’t. That made Ash the expert. And if Philip thought he could force M into translating the glyphs of the last signpost if Ash brought her to the Eye, he was very, very wrong. It was clear to him that M could stand up to anything, any torture, if it meant she could save her father. He wasn’t sure it was possible, though. The Eye was powerful, but so was the cult of Set.
Ash’s stomach twisted. This hunt for the Set pieces required so much focus and energy that he usually managed to keep himself from thinking about what would happen when they had all the pieces in their possession. Would he be able to convince Philip and the rest of the Eye to rescue M’s father? Would they be too furious to even try?
“Find anything?” M asked.
Ash jerked his head up. “What?”
“I thought you were looking up a possible connection to the sun,” she said.
“I was. I am.” He did a quick search for “Borobudur,” “sun,” and “path.” “Walking the path is about moving from darkness into light,” he read, before skimming ahead. “And listen to this—the movement around the central stupa, which represents the cosmic center, mirrors the path of the sun. When you come out of the dark galleries of the temple and into the open air of the upper walkways, you literally come into the light.”
“Enlightenment,” M murmured. “Of course! ‘Clockwise’ is an adaptation of a Sanskrit translation that meant ‘sunwise.’ I should have thought of that as soon as Sarip told us which way to walk. So we’ve got sun, and road. We still need god, and speak.”
“And a plan to escape the Set acolytes who will be waiting for us,” he put in.
“Well, you’ll be able to use your power, right?” she asked.
“Right,” Ash said, forcing himself to sound casual. He didn’t want to use any power. If he called on the power of Horus, every priest in the Eye would feel it. And Philip would come for M and the pieces. Ash sighed. It was getting harder and harder to keep lying.
Sarip returned to the table. “Did you decide what you’d like?”
“We haven’t even touched the menus,” M admitted. She smiled at Ash. “Trust me?”
He nodded, and she turned to Sarip. “Do you have kerak telor?”
“Yes, miss,” he replied.
“Then that’s what we’ll have. And an answer
to another question, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Sarip said.
“Is there one Buddha in the temple that’s special?” she asked.
“Besides the friezes, there are ninety-two statues of Buddha in small stupas all around the central one. Unfortunately, many are damaged—looters took many of the heads in the last twenty or thirty years. They go to the collections of the wealthy.” He paused, thinking. “Each of the Buddhas has one of five different mudras, hand gestures…” His words trailed off and he gave a slight frown. “I’m not sure what you mean by special.”
“I’m not sure either,” M said, smiling. “Just one that has a story to it, or one that stands out from the others somehow.”
Sarip shook his head.
“The hand gestures, what significance do they have?” Ash asked.
“There are mudras for blessing, meditation, calling the earth to witness, fearlessness, and teaching,” Sarip replied. He glanced at the other tables in the dining room, which were beginning to fill. “Excuse me, I must see to the other visitors. I will return with your kerak telor.” He winked. “It is my favorite too.”
“Blessing, calling to witness, and teaching could all connect to the speech glyph, I guess,” M said, but she didn’t sound hopeful.
Ninety-two statues divided by five hand positions. That was a little over eighteen Buddhas per mudra. And there were three mudras that could connect to the speech glyph, so fifty-five possible Buddhas to check.
“Speech, god, speech, god, speech, god,” M mumbled, brow furrowed. “Speech, god, speech, god, speech—”
“What’s your favorite band?” Ash interrupted her.
“What? Why?”
“Sometimes when you’re not trying to think of an answer, that’s when it suddenly pops into your head. I’m trying to get you to not think of the answer,” Ash explained.
“All right. Twenty-one Pilots,” she said. “You?”
Ash hadn’t listened to music in years, not since he left Paris. He heard it when he was out, whatever was playing in taxis or shops. But he didn’t go to concerts or download music. It was one of a long list of distractions Philip believed would make Ash a less pure vessel for Horus.
“Daft Punk,” he answered. They’d been his favorite back then.
M laughed. “Really? That doesn’t seem like you.”
“I’m full of surprises,” he said.
“My turn. Favorite movie?” M asked.
Why had he even started this conversation? He tried to think of movies he’d heard people talk about. It wasn’t as if he lived in a cave. “Uh, Me Before You,” he tossed out. He’d heard some girl on the bus call it “the most intense thing she’d ever seen.”
M laughed so hard that she snorted. “If that weepy chick flick is really your favorite I’m going to have to move to another table.”
Ash held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, I haven’t seen it,” he admitted. “I never go to the movies anymore. But I flipped for The Hangover back when I was a fourteen-year-old hooligan.” He left it at that.
“TV?” she asked.
He shook his head.
M’s eyes grew serious as she studied him. “It’s like the sausage roll, right? Nothing to distract you from Horus?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “But you have to understand, it’s what I want. It’s what gives my life meaning, my devotion. Do I wish it didn’t require so many sacrifices? Sometimes. But movies or music or food are nothing compared to the feeling of the god letting his power flow through me.”
“What about sex?” M asked.
Ash coughed, feeling his cheeks grow hot. At least with his dark skin, she wouldn’t be able to tell. “Same thing.”
“But still worth it?”
Ash nodded, although there’d been times he had trouble keeping his eyes off M, something he’d mastered with other women.
“Speech, god, speech, god, speech,” M murmured again. Ash was glad she let it go. He looked down at his phone—a voicemail from Philip—and found another article to read about the temple.
When Sarip came back with the food, Ash asked, “Is there a place around here to buy or rent climbing equipment?”
“Ah, you’re planning a visit to Siung Beach! There are more than two hundred climbing routes. You can rent equipment here at the hotel and you can also arrange for a guide,” Sarip said. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Not right now, thank you. You’ve been very helpful,” M told him. “Climbing equipment?” she asked after he left.
“Going straight down the outside of the temple may be our fastest escape route,” Ash said. “I want to be prepared for anything. We don’t know how many people to expect—not after what happened in Kerala. And I can only use so much power before I pass out.”
“I’m all for preparation,” M said. She took a bite of her food and rolled her eyes with pleasure. “Perfect. Try to enjoy it. Just this once. I’m not saying abandon … everything. But kerak telor on Java. You might never have the opportunity again.”
They locked eyes, and for a brief, crazy moment he wondered what other opportunities the two of them might never have again. He forced himself to look away and took a bite of his food. He let himself savor the blend of egg, shredded coconut, and dried shrimp, all flavored with a hint of the charcoal they’d been cooked over. Just this once he would allow himself to take pleasure in eating. How big a transgression could that really be?
An hour and a half later, they returned to the hotel room with their rented climbing equipment. They had decided to begin walking the path through the temple at dawn. It wouldn’t be open to the public yet, and M hoped the rising sun would show them something they were supposed to see, something that would clarify the meaning of the last glyphs.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said as she set the alarm. He headed into the bathroom, stripped, and turned on the cold water. He needed discomfort in his body to return his mind and soul to Horus. He stayed under the stream until his fingers were wrinkled and his skin had gone to gooseflesh.
He was careful to be quiet when he returned and slid into the bed across from M’s, but she was still awake. “We’re halfway there,” she said. “We have two. We need two. Two pieces until I can save my father.” He heard her roll over and he could feel her staring at him through the darkness. “You have it all arranged, right? The Eye knows they have to rescue my father before they get the pieces.”
“Right.” Ash’s stomach twisted. He flipped onto his back and closed his eyes, letting his breathing go slow and deep. If she said anything else, he wouldn’t answer. He’d just pretend he’d fallen asleep.
He didn’t want to reassure her again. He didn’t want to lie to her again. He wanted to keep going the way they had been, getting along, having fun, building trust.
Until he had to betray her.
CHAPTER 17
The sun wasn’t up yet when they started out the next morning, but the sky had lightened to a pale gray. A low mist hovered above the ground, and the darker gray of the squared-off pyramid shape of the temple loomed in the distance. M couldn’t shake her impression that it looked ominous, even though it had been built to teach visitors the path to enlightenment. Maybe she just felt that way because she knew worshippers of the dark god Set would be waiting.
If she was captured, would they take her to the same place as Dad? It would almost be worth it if— No. She was desperate to see him, but being taken prisoner would make everything worse. She needed the Set pieces. They were the only way she’d have the leverage to save them both.
Just two pieces to go, she thought as they walked across the manicured lawn. The grass was wet with dew, and her sneakers and the hem of her jeans quickly grew damp. There was something about the day’s early stillness that made her want to stay quiet. Ash must have felt the same way. In silence, they left the hotel grounds and started on the path to the temple, the only sounds their soft footfalls, the chatter of the birds that p
opulated the rainforest, and the click-clack of palm fronds in the wind.
The canopy wasn’t thick. Many of the trees were slender and uncrowded, so plenty of sky showed through. Several looked as if they were standing on tiptoe, balanced high on a network of roots that seemed like they should be underground.
“It’s like they’re holding up their skirts because they’ve seen a mouse,” M said softly, nodding toward one.
Ash chuckled. “More likely a snake out here,” he commented, keeping his voice low.
They fell back into silence, until M spotted several yellow-orange fruits in one tree. She darted over and pulled down two of them. “I can’t remember what they’re called, but they taste almost like mangos.” She bit into one. Sweet. Sometimes they could be a little sour, but this one was perfection.
She held the other out to Ash. “Breakfast,” she said, encouraging him to eat it. That wasn’t trying to corrupt him, was it? To make him taste pleasure, whether Horus approved or not? Or was it Philip who wouldn’t approve?
Ash’s life with the Eye sounded lonely and sterile to her—it was hard to understand why he loved them so much. Still, if she’d had a childhood like his, maybe she’d have ended up feeling equally devoted—Philip must have seemed like the complete opposite of Ash’s abusive father. Did he really care about Ash, though? Or did he just care about what Ash could do?
“It smells like turpentine,” Ash said.
“Doesn’t taste like turpentine. Try it.” He took a bite, sending a droplet of juice running from the corner of his mouth to his chin. Without thinking, she reached over and wiped away the juice with her thumb. He started, and she suddenly felt self-conscious. “Good?” she asked, pulling her hand away.
“Good,” he answered, meeting her eyes briefly. Then he turned and continued down the path. “We timed it about right, I think,” he commented as they reached the edge of the trees. The temple was about four hundred feet away. The sky was turning pink at the edge of the horizon and the day dawning hot and humid, even though the sun still wasn’t visible.
They both hesitated before stepping from the shelter of the forest. They’d be in clear view the rest of the way. It wasn’t dark enough to hide them. But they reached the gate without a problem. Ash did his lock-picking trick, giving the lock a tiny jolt of his power. There didn’t seem to be anything he couldn’t open.
I Do Not Trust You Page 18
