What if he can tell that I’m lying?
“I don’t think there’s anything normal about what happened on that train,” Emmett said, thankful something deft had actually come to him that didn’t require a movie quotation no one but he would have understood.
Dr. Hazrat turned his gaze to Keiran. “And you? What did your powerful Bardic hearing gather that night?”
“The horror of dying passengers,” Keiran said flatly.
Dr. Hazrat only nodded. “I suppose there is nothing else beyond that.”
“Yes.”
“Then you would agree with me, son, that something definitive must be done to confront the Revenant threat? Something more than what we do even now?” he asked, shifting his eyes between Keiran and Emmett to see any sign of reaction.
Emmett knew that, standing in his Grove and having offered his protection and sanctuary over them, Dr. Hazrat was asking Keiran where his allegiance to the Great Preclusion stood, and perhaps even which Elder’s interpretation of it he held allegiance to.
Keiran must have been prepared for this, because his answer came without pause. “I do agree that everything must be done to combat darkness, and I have been sworn to do everything within ikkibu to fulfill my oath.”
Dr. Hazrat seemed to weigh these words before responding. “Indeed,” he finally said with an approving nod. “You would both benefit from a brief respite before dinner. My Attendant, Eitan, will show you to adjoining guest rooms.”
Keiran bowed his head. “Thank you.”
Emmett felt himself releasing the tension around his neck as their meeting drew to an abrupt close. No other words were spoken by Dr. Hazrat as he rose from his chair and, with his hands clasped behind his back, walked back to the high wall and stared silently at the churning waters beyond.
As Eitan led them out of the grand room, Emmett chanced one final look over his shoulder and thought he saw Dr. Hazrat raising a hand up to the blue as if to trace the movement of a dark shadow that swam through the water. Something Emmett had all but forgotten since the Revenant’s attack tickled the back of his mind: memories of oceans, and the rain, and the deep places that humans are not meant to traverse.
Just as quickly as he remembered it, Emmett realized that Keiran and Eitan were rounding a corner of the long hallway, and he hurried to catch up.
CHAPTER 20
Emmett felt lost traveling the labyrinthine corridors of the Lighthouse. Young Eitan led them from Dr. Hazrat’s reception room to the elevator and, after ascending several floors, down a series of winding hallways to a suite of connected rooms on the compound’s eastern side.
Comfortably plush interiors and tasseled nineteenth-century European furnishings greeted them, their rooms facing out over the high, seaside cliff. Thick, mullioned windows barely muffled the roar of the stormy Atlantic bellowing in the distance.
A single door joined the two rooms, and after thanking young Eitan, Emmett turned the lock on his exterior door and quickly opened the door connecting to Keiran’s suite.
“Is it safe to talk in here?” Emmett asked, looking around the room. “Or is yaoi boy out there going to hear us from down the hall?” he motioned to where Eitan had just departed.
“Despite our disagreements, spying would seem undignified to members of the Lighthouse,” Keiran answered, opening the rosewood bureau to find a selection of fresh attire within.
“Suit yourself, but I’m watching the paintings for eyes that move.”
Keiran sat down on his four-poster bed. He rubbed his forehead and sighed before lying back with his hands tucked behind his head.
“Best you wash up before dinner.”
“I’d rather skip it,” Emmett said. “I’m down for New England-y, atmospheric-dread-lovin’ castles just like the next cinephile, but this place exceeds the trope, K. Even for me.”
Keiran shook his head. “No, they will consider it an affront if we do not show.”
“I don’t know if I’m up for much more of this,” Emmett confessed. Seeing Keiran’s exhaustion, Emmett nodded and headed back toward his suite. “Fine. I’ll play along and go get cleaned up. A good carb-out at dinner might actually lead to sleep for a change.”
Keiran managed a partial smile as the adjoining door closed.
Having showered and found an assortment of clothes, Emmett dressed and joined Keiran just as Eitan returned. They followed him down the stretching hallways to the grand staircase. A sorrowful chorus of mourning a cappella voices joined together within the high, echoing coffered ceilings to produce an almost hypnotic lament. Young, tender voices harmonized tenor, alto, and soprano ranges into a sustained alloy, which was contrasted by deep, repetitive baritones that added an almost tribal undertone. The effect was both resonant and profound.
“Since the founding of the Lighthouse, they have always maintained a group to sustain this song. It’s the Children’s paean, the song for the dead,” Keiran said.
The dining room was larger than any reception hall Emmett had ever seen, with its coffered ceiling nearly three stories high above with a glass-domed rotunda open to the night’s rainy sky. A long table stretched from one end to the other with seats for more than one hundred visitors. At each end of the dining hall stood massive, roaring fireplaces that cast dancing shadows against the far walls.
A crowd of Children milled about the dining room, some talking to each other in hushed tones, others standing idly. Emmett saw men and women of many ages, all healthy and strong like Keiran.
Several people were waving to Keiran, some raising their glasses in toast. Keiran smiled and gestured to them as they followed Eitan across the dining room. Emmett watched as conversations ended abruptly. As usual, Keiran never evidenced the slightest notice that he captivated so many people.
Eitan guided them through the throng, approaching the long table on the far side to stand against the far wall. A young girl walked immediately up to them holding a tray with tall-stemmed glasses filled with a dark, amber liquid. Bowing, she handed a drink to each of them in turn before retreating.
Emmett looked at the drink, sipping it cautiously at first and finding that he enjoyed the hot, buttery cider as it warmed his insides.
A man in his thirties with hands resting in his pockets stepped away from his group and walked over to them. He was broadly shouldered like Keiran, with impossibly high cheekbones featuring pronounced dimples when he smiled. His honey tweed suit accented his wavy jet-black hair and starkly blue eyes.
“Keiran Glendower,” he said warmly, clasping him on the shoulder. “I’d heard you were here. How long has it been, brother?”
“Too long,” Keiran answered. There was a moment of surprise on his face before he quickly recovered. “This is Emmett.”
“I’m Oliver Gray,” he said as he shook Emmett’s hand.
Oliver turned his attention back to Keiran. “How have you been?”
Keiran casually bobbed his head, a guarded, non-committal expression compared to what Emmett had come to expect from him. “I’m not one to complain.”
“I’ve been meaning to contact you for quite a while. Since you’re here, we can finally sit down. Can we talk tomorrow?”
“Oliver?” a sultry voice sounded behind them.
As one, they turned to see a lithe statue of exotic beauty. She was likely Amala’s age, with a flawless complexion and almond-shaped black eyes that sparkled so brilliantly that Emmett thought he would be blinded by them. Her thin, high shoulders were framed in a full-length blue silk dress, and braided in her long black hair was a wreath of creamy white flowers whose intoxicating scents hinted of vanilla and honey from far-off islands.
“My midnight flower,” Oliver said with the longing in his voice one hears from a lover. “Keiran, this is my Companion, ‘Anoi Pua Haukea.”
“It is almost time for our shared meal,” she all but purred.
Oliver nodded. “Of course. We’ll talk later, Keiran. Glad to see you!”
The Druid steppe
d between Keiran and Emmett and took Oliver’s arm in her hands, guiding him away. Emmett casually shifted his weight from one foot to the other, catching Keiran’s eye with his own arched eyebrow.
Keiran took another sip of his drink. “Remind me later.” Keiran motioned with his head, and Emmett looked up to see Dr. Hazrat descending the stairs.
With hands folded behind his back, he maintained a confident posture, gazing out at the crowded room as all turned at his approach. He reached the bottom of the stairs and walked toward the head of the dining table, shaking hands with and nodding to different Children. The room quickly organized itself as everyone took their seats. Eitan guided Emmett and Keiran to a pair of chairs before excusing himself and joining Dr. Hazrat at the front of the table.
All fell silent looking to their Elder. Raising his arms, Dr. Hazrat slowly stood and gestured wide to those assembled. “My brothers and sisters,” he began with a cavernous voice that projected down and throughout the gathering. “It is our tradition that we share one meal each day. It reminds us not only of who we are and where we come from, but of who we are meant to be and where we are going. People who cannot appreciate this are destined to wither and perish in the passing of ages.”
Dr. Hazrat stepped out from his chair and, with his hands folded behind his back, slowly began to circle the table. Emmett noted the rapturous, expectant stares awaiting his next words.
“Silvan Dea and Belladonna were recently destroyed by Underdwellers and Revenants, with Dark Fire that has not been conjured in the new world in nearly a century. It is believed that even the Old Ones attended their destruction.”
He paused for several moments, allowing the gasps of disbelief to pervade the room.
“This exceeds our worst fears, my Children. No word has returned from Belladonna, and as always the Archivist’s whereabouts are unknown. We must assume these two Groves lost. What is to prevent more Revenants from learning of this and assaulting the remaining seven? How far will we permit darkness to pervert our world?”
Heads nodded in agreement. Continuing his circling, Dr. Hazrat continued. “Some would call us revolutionaries, even blasphemers,” he chuckled, allowing others to laugh derisively. “But how can we allow evil to ravage our world, all for one group’s interpretation of thousands-years-old oral traditions? What is more important to us: dogmatism or salvation?”
Many rapped their knuckles against the table in agreement. Emmett watched their engaged expressions with rapt amazement.
“When will we command the courage to stand up and fight for what is right?” Dr. Hazrat continued, raising his powerful voice over the din of approval. “When will we possess the temerity of purpose and the boldness of character to seize our rightful destiny as defenders of all that is good, decent, and pure in our world?”
Thunderous applause responded to his call, and Dr. Hazrat stood back with an expression of satisfaction. He continued circling the table, finally stopping behind Keiran. With a raised hand, those gathered in attendance fell silent once again.
“My sons and daughters, for over three hundred years, our forbearers gathered at this very table to break bread. In this very hall, the sounds of their beautiful voices raised in chorus memorializing the honored dead. They guarded the Song of Creation, the great and varied ballad that binds all life together. Since this Grove was built here on this coast, your Elder has stood resolute in defense of our homes from all dark followers of the Leviathan.”
Dr. Hazrat paused to look around the table and then continued back toward his seat. “I have asked you to heed my word, to have faith in my teachings. I ask that you continue to believe. In the coming days, we will hold fast to our faith. In this gathering, here in this home. Remember that we are the Children of the Earth, and as witnesses to the vast mysteries of creation, we broker timidity and fear for evil no longer!”
At once, all those seated around the long table stood and cheered. The excitement was such that even Emmett found himself applauding with greater feeling than he would have consciously realized he felt for Dr. Hazrat’s words. Keiran applauded with a guarded expression, though, and Emmett saw that he was careful to nod whenever Dr. Hazrat was looking in their general direction.
After several minutes of exultation, Dr. Hazrat finally motioned for them to sit as he retook his chair. Servants appeared carrying large silver serving plates of hot food. Keiran and Emmett set to selecting from platters of roasted meats and fishes with large bowls of yams and bright-yellow or deep-green squash. Fresh, cracked loaves of bread still warm from the oven were placed on wooden boards with bowls of freshly churned salted butter and ceramic pots of scented honey. Last were delivered dishes of cinnamon-dusted fruit cobblers with sweet icing drizzled over doughy lattices.
“This is what I call a meal,” Emmett said as he dug in, giving himself permission to overlook the surreal experience of the pre-meal speech and simply enjoy the large feast before him.
Keiran nodded as he arranged several items on his own plate. The people around the table ate largely without speaking, several conferring quietly, but otherwise observing a silence that was accentuated by the continued melodies in the distance.
“Emmett Brennan,” Dr. Hazrat called from down at the end of the table. Any lingering discussions suddenly stopped, and all in attendance turned as one to look at him. Even the clattering of utensils grew silent, and Emmett felt everyone’s eyes focused intently on him.
FFS, he thought as the bottom of his stomach fell out.
He felt Keiran’s hand pat the side of his leg, to which he relaxed somewhat.
“Sir?” Emmett responded, wiping his mouth with his napkin.
“You are our newest guest at our table, and yet we know so little about you. Would you tell us where you come from?” Dr. Hazrat cocked an elbow up on one of the arms of his chair.
“Well, uh, I’m from Texas.”
“Family?”
Emmett felt himself flush. He knew things would be simpler if he simply said none. Yet he had his experience with beings that could see into the truth of his soul through his eyes, and the last thing he wanted was for Dr. Hazrat to call him a liar in front of Keiran and the Lighthouse.
“Foster care,” Emmett answered truthfully. “I have no one else.”
Emmett felt Keiran pat him reassuringly on the leg at this.
Dr. Hazrat drank from his glass and then set it down. “Do you know of your parents?”
Again, Emmett felt heat rise in his face as all Druids and Bards at the table looked to him for his response. “I don’t know who my father was. I only know my mom died after having me.” He looked down, conscious that his stumbling was more pronounced than anything he could possibly say. He already wished he had said nothing.
“Fascinating,” Dr. Hazrat said from behind his steepled fingers. “Fascinating. You can see it in his eyes even now, can’t you?” he asked to no one in particular.
Emmett’s eyes flashed upward noticeably with Dr. Hazrat’s choice of words.
“Please do not mistake my comment for a sign of disrespect of your upbringing,” he said soothingly as he motioned with a hand around the table. “You need not feel shame among others who share in your pain, your brothers and sisters.”
Dr. Hazrat then leaned toward his Attendant. “Take Eitan here, an orphan in Saint-Philippe, Quebec, fleeing the abusive home he had once been a prisoner in to the false promise of comfort offered by the streets of Montreal. Homeless, starving, and relying on the generosity of strangers, which does not come without its own price. But that was before I found him and gave him a home and a family.”
Emmett saw that most of the Lighthouse members nodded at this statement, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Keiran cast his eyes down at the table.
“Look at Eitan now: a respectable young man with a future of his own making and a family to support him on each step of his journey.” Dr. Hazrat passed an extended arm over the entire table. “All of this is possible because of our Grove.
You’ll find a similar story with every Druid or Bard that you meet here.”
Emmett felt the burden of the continuing stares from the other Children, and as Dr. Hazrat fell silent and looked at him, he felt that he had to say something.
“Why is that?” Emmett asked with feigned curiosity, wanting only to leave. “Why the same story?”
“Most never ask the ‘what’ of a situation, fewer ask the ‘how,’ and the fewest ask the ‘why.’ I commend you,” he smiled without a hint of condescension, toasting Emmett with his glass.
“But that is the question, isn’t it? Why? I, of course, have a theory, one which you will never hear uttered within another Grove.”
He inclined his head as if to further impress upon Emmett the full measure of his words. “Would you like me to share this secret with you, Mr. Brennan?”
Emmett felt Keiran’s foot pushing against his underneath the table but was uncertain what he could do to end the conversation. “Yes.”
“Would it surprise you if I told you that the attack against you by the Underdweller was not by random occurrence?”
“Are you saying that they chose me?”
“If by ‘they’ you refer to the Underdwellers and Revenants, the answer is no, I do not mean them. I believe we are touched by destiny; a touch of grace for some and misery for others, but such is the fickle nature of destiny. I believe that the concept of randomness—that each of our free, individual choices leads to random and unpredictable outcomes—is ultimately meaningless. The truth of creation is that we are all on predetermined paths that, no matter what choices we make, we still eventually arrive at.”
“I don’t understand. How would my past have anything to do with my attack? You said that we all had that in common.”
Dr. Hazrat nodded. “Yes, and this is my best evidence of my belief.” He motioned for a server to refill his glass from the silver decanter seated directly in front of him. He permitted himself to enjoy a long, leisurely sip before continuing.
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