“By the way,” she said, heading back into the kitchen, “I’m going out tonight with my study group for some drinks. Don’t wait up. I probably won’t be back until late.”
“Uh huh.”
It was three in the afternoon. Only four more hours until a single question of his would be answered.
***
Dusk descended by seven. Danielle stepped onto the sidewalk after waiting outside the restaurant. Her conscience still tried to convince her that this meeting was not rational. After all, how could this man prove who he was or what he claimed? Danielle admitted that she had seen some strange schemes in her years serving the military, and the thought that this could be some sort of test hung in the back of her mind.
People, mostly couples, came in and out of the restaurant to valets handing them their keys. Although Danielle lived only a few blocks away, she never came here since it was beyond her usual price range and tastes. She preferred the low-key ethnic eateries for a quiet night out, as opposed to the upscale and gaudy environment this restaurant provided.
“Excuse me,” she said to the maître d’. “I’m supposed to be meeting somebody here.”
“Yes, you must be Lieutenant Cromwell.” The host did not look up. “Mr. Marlow has been expecting you for a while now. This way, please.”
Danielle became lost behind the host as he led her around the half-wall and into the main gallery. People chatted over candlelit tables as servers and bussers maneuvered through, holding trays stacked with dishes. The host led Danielle beyond the normal seating arrangements of the city’s high-and-mighty.
“Mr. Marlow, your second and final guest is here.” The host stopped at a large, circular table in a private room. He bowed his head at the man before him. “Please, Lieutenant.”
Danielle accepted the chair the host offered. Before sitting, she shed her jacket and draped it on the back of her chair, revealing a sleeveless sweater enshrouding her chest.
“If there’s anything you need, your server will be here shortly. Have a good evening.” Once the host was gone, Danielle shot a look at the table. Beside her sat Ramaron Marlow, a mustered smile on his face. Against the wall sat Devon, a poor college student in his nicest pair of jeans and the only collared shirt he could find in his dresser.
“Good evening to you,” Marlow greeted. “Your partner and I were having an interesting discussion about the current American media. Care to jump in?”
“I was telling him about that one game where you steal cars…” Devon crossed his arms. “I mean… never mind. You’re not interested.”
“That’s fine.” Danielle leaned against the left side of her chair to avoid Marlow’s gaze.
Before Marlow could open his mouth again, their waiter arrived. Even though neither Devon nor Danielle ate anything earlier, they were unable to order as knots formed in their stomachs and lumps clogged their throats. Marlow, on the other hand, requested something in French that the others could not understand.
“I summoned you two here tonight because I thought you might be more comfortable talking in your own environment. The place you entered last night isn’t on Earth, I’m afraid, but you may consider it haven in the future. The clock was what led you there,” he said to Danielle. “Fancy myself a bit of a sorcerer at times.” He was the only one to get the joke, because he was the only one to know that the English translation for his kind was sorcerer.
“Let’s never do that stomach-churning bullshit again,” Danielle mumbled.
“Luckily, you’ll never have to. Those tattoos I gave you last night will admit you to my office whenever you need. Press your fingers like this,” he demonstrated with two thick fingers pressing against his veins, “as if you’re checking your pulse. The next door you open will lead to my office. No stomach-turning necessary. Promise.”
Devon jerked in his seat. “I’m sorry, but I think I’m not understanding something. Your office? Interplanetary travel? Shit like that? For Christ’s sake, you mean we like… time traveled or something last night?”
“No, not time. You crossed a bridge between this reality and one that doesn’t exist like you understand it. I’m a sorcerer.” Ah, there it was. He supposed the English translation really was sorcerer. Something Evan told him countless times. “A not too shabby one, thank you. I can create small spaces existing independently from our dimensions. Only people I allow can enter. Like Evan. You remember him, surely? He’s one of my two employees who assist me with Earth-based languages and cultures.”
“Where is he now?”
“Back on his home planet, doing research on my behalf.”
Danielle rolled her eyes. “I feel like I should be recording this for the government. Intelligence, you know.”
“I assure you that your government is already well-aware of interplanetary bodies and their people. It’s the layman who doesn’t know yet.”
“Oh, of course. We’re all too stupid to know about the little green men who aren’t so green, apparently.”
“Some are. The kidwip, for example, have a green hue to their skin that… never mind. Anyway, you both seem rather calm tonight compared to last night. Don’t suppose you’re remembering your past lives yet?”
“Honestly, I still have no idea what you’re talking about.” Danielle leaned back in her seat. “But I figure that I don’t have much to lose by entertaining you for a while, old man. It’s not like I had any plans tonight.”
Devon rubbed his forehead. “Can’t say I know what you’re talking about, but like her I sort of thought… what the hell.”
Marlow cleared his throat. “I find it strange that neither of you remember me at all. Not even a twinge in the back of your minds? Not even the all-encompassing feeling that something strange is afoot?” He fished empty waters. “A bad feeling? Come on.”
He received two blank stares.
“In most of your previous lives, you either had some memories or at least regained some within moments of meeting me. I guess this time you’re going to take a bit longer.”
“To be honest, I don’t believe in reincarnation,” Danielle said. “This is my life, not any other, and this is the only life that matters to me. Maybe some other people believe that kind of thing, but how am I supposed to believe my soul has traveled between bodies through time? Next you’ll tell me that I was an entirely different person.”
The tinkling of piano music in the grand gallery was the only sound penetrating the private room. Marlow snorted into his glass of water as words fought to break through his lips. “Hardly! You are the same, every single damn time. You’re too independent, too narrow-minded, and way too serious. Most of your lives have been spent trying to get you to listen to me. Whether you’re eight or eighty when we meet, you’re still the same stubborn Sulim.”
“Don’t hold back, do you? What about him?” Danielle jerked her thumb at Devon.
“Very loyal young man.” He spoke as if Devon didn’t sit right in front of him. “Yes, loyal is a good word to use. Also quite smart if he puts his mind to it. Frankly, you’ve always been the more dominant one, Sulim.”
“Stop calling me that. My name is Danielle.”
“My apologies.” Marlow straightened his back with a small pop. “That was your very first name, the name you possessed when you were nothing but a barbaric mercenary on some backward planet unlucky enough to be my old companion’s target. You’ve been through many lives now, but I’ve always remembered your first name. Suppose I’m fond of it.”
“I’m not. Please call me Danielle if you insist on speaking to me.”
“I assure you, I will try my best, Danielle.”
They glanced at Devon, who waved them off with a nonchalant shrug. He wasn’t sure what to believe anymore – was he really Devon Anderson, college kid with a knack for computers, or was he someone else who had been locked away inside his head for his whole life?
Danielle ended up expressing his exact sentiments. “This is still too amazing to be true. What
proof do you have that anything you say is real?”
“Only the word of my kind.”
“What the hell is your kind?”
Marlow puffed out his chest. To think, he had once been one of the gangliest boys at the Academy when he was thousands of years younger. Where was tall and lean Ramaron Marlow now? Hell, where was his dark hair that always grew too quickly and in the wrong ways? He’d damn well kill to get his natural hair color back. This whole aging thing… getting heavier, shorter, graying and hurting everywhere… he may have been born into the oldest living species in the universe, but julah aged like everyone else. Three thousand years was the average lifespan for full-blooded julah, and Marlow passed that milestone a few years ago.
When he met these old souls sitting in front of him, he was at the end of his prime. Another thousand years hadn’t been kind to him.
“I am a julah, the oldest race of humans in the known universe. Don’t suppose you’ve heard of us in your current lifetime?”
“Nope.”
“Can’t say I have.”
“We’re the spiritual guardians of all sentient creatures in the universe, both in and out of the Intergalactic Federation. We have an Academy on my home planet Yahzen where we learn about politics, sorcery, and the spiritual matters that are beyond your recognition.” He held up his left hand. A gold band encircled one of his fingers. “This ring shows my allegiance to the Academy. Something like a class ring, I suppose. Do either of you have one?”
Danielle shrugged. “A class ring? Yeah, sure. From high school. I don’t wear it, though.”
“I thought about getting one, but they are way too expensive.” Devon held out his ringless hands. His fresh tattoo turned up in the soft light. “I don’t really wear jewelry, anyway.”
“Jewelry is a lowly vice. Tattoos even more so.” Danielle propped her elbow on the table, the inside of her wrist turned down. “Would be nice if you could give us some way to get this shit off. Tried washing it earlier. Didn’t work.”
“I’m afraid that would be detrimental, Danielle.” Oh, good. He remembered her new name. “You see, that tattoo marks you as my mercenary. It gives you access to everything you need to fulfill your mission. To wash it off would put you in more danger than being without it.”
“You still haven’t explained what it is you want from us,” Danielle countered.
A grave look flushed Marlow’s wrinkled countenance. This was the part he always dreaded the most. Such was a curse of the Process.
It was always best to start from the beginning. Even though Marlow was so, so tired of telling this tale to every asshole who came up to him asking about it.
But he had signed up for it. A thousand years ago, he vowed to follow Nerilis Dunsman to the ends of the universe if it meant saving a few lives and ending the spree of terror that had gone on for a millennium.
“To understand this, you must first accept that the soul exists. Reincarnation is not only possible, it’s incredibly common to certain degrees.”
He was met with silence.
“My kind, the julah, were the first to exist in the universe according to every credible source we have. We were born from the Void, the afterlife where every soul is born and returns to after death. The Void created us to be its caretakers. The best of my kind do not go on to become politicians or healers. We become priests, maintaining the delicate balance of the Void so the rest of the universe can go on living.”
Danielle sucked in a deep breath. Devon sat with the fear that he had heard this before.
“I attended the Academy with the goal of becoming a priest. The best, the most powerful, the most intelligent and the most spiritual man is elevated to the title of the High Priest of the Void. My colleague Nerilis Dunsman once held this title.”
Marlow paused for effect. Would they recognize that name?
They showed no signs.
“I don’t know what drove him to his madness. Some say it was too much communication with the Void, which he did in unprecedented amounts during his brief tenure as Head Priest. Others say he had always been a serial killer using his education and position to launch his criminal career. I honestly don’t know.” Marlow shook his head. “But one day he resigned from his position and disappeared without a trace. Next we heard from him, he had destroyed an uninhabited planet using the Old Ways.”
“I’d hate to know what the new ways are,” Devon said.
“Weapons, of course. New ways are manmade. The Old Ways use complex spiritual sorcery. People aren’t the only ones with souls. Planets and other astral bodies also have their own kinds of souls – it’s how they offer sustenance to the creatures living upon their surfaces.” Marlow needed more water, but the pitcher was empty and the server nowhere to be seen. “For as long as those of my kind can currently remember, the Old Ways were purely theoretical. Written in our texts, but untested. A studious man could spend years learning all there was to know about them, but why would he put them to practice? Julah do not destroy. We do not kill, not even out of self-defense if we can help it. We have no military and we don’t get involved in intergalactic politics. So for Nerilis Dunsman, an ex-Head Priest of the Void to venture out and use the Old Ways to pull a planet out of existence… it was the biggest news of my lifetime, and I was already two millennia old by then.”
“Damn, you’re old.” Danielle couldn’t help herself. Not when an old man told her that.
“Thank you.” What else could Marlow say? “Long story short, Nerilis targeted an inhabited planet after that. Once I realized he intended to kill everyone alongside the planet itself, I knew I had to intervene.”
It bothered him how blank these looks were.
“The planet was called Cerilyn. Your home planet.”
Neither Devon nor Danielle would admit that something clicked in the back of their heads. Cerilyn. Remember Cerilyn? Remember that shithole? Remember how fucking hot it was all the damn time? Remember how your mongrel kind were the only ones willing to inhabit it? Remember how you were targeted because the madman didn’t think anyone would miss a planet full of barbaric mercenaries?
These thoughts were immediately dismissed as a blip in the subconscious. Not even Marlow saw the flicker behind their eyes.
“I approached your employer at the time. I told her I wanted to hire her two best mercenaries to help prevent the destruction of their planet. She gave me you two.”
“Wow. Best mercenary, huh? Must’ve been a small selection to choose from.” Devon’s self-deprecating humor often made him friends, but he wasn’t making them here.
“You two failed,” Marlow continued. “You failed, and your planet was destroyed. Before that, however, I offered to put you two into the Process, another remnant of the Old Ways that I had never attempted before.”
Marlow pulled out his personal communicator, a piece of Federation technology that barely picked up an intergalactic signal so far away from that same Federation. A picture of Evan flashed on the tiny screen. Marlow pushed a button and sent his assistant to voicemail.
“There are two ways to be reincarnated. Ten percent of the population is washed in the Void and reborn as they were before, without the ability to remember their past lives. It’s considered an entirely fresh start. Then there is the Process. Aside from you two, the only other known soul in the Process is my other assistant, Lanelle. I put her in the Process a few hundred years ago so she could continue to assist me in my task with her short lifespan. Those thrown into the Process are reborn the same people over and over again. You have different names, different medical histories, and perhaps a few slight differences in your personalities, but you are essentially as you were a thousand years ago. You can also remember your past lives if you regress.”
“So when does it end?” Danielle asked. “Theoretically speaking.”
“When you are initiated into the Process, you die with a goal in mind. For you two, that goal was to stop Nerilis Dunsman from his killing spree across the univers
e. Once you accomplish that, your souls should be free.”
“How many times have we failed? Theoretically, of course.”
Marlow pursed his lips. “Ninety-seven times.”
“Ninety…”
“Yes. Countless people have died between then and now. None as often as you have.” Marlow shoved his empty water glass aside. “I hope you understand the implications.”
“Damn,” Devon said with a disbelieving shake of the head toward Danielle. “We suck.”
She said nothing.
“You sure you still want to ask us to do something like this, then? Maybe it’s time to ask for outside help, man. I hear China’s pretty powerful right now.”
Marlow considered that option like he did every time the man behind Devon’s eyes asked him that. “It may seem hopeless now, but I assure you that you are the ones I want. Your hearts, believe it or not, have already stepped onto the path of protecting this planet. Take you, for instance,” he said to Danielle, “you are a member of your country’s armed forces, a profession in the business of protecting and serving. Isn’t that the kind of person I want for my mission?”
“I’m not exactly the poster child for the military,” Danielle said with a snort. “I’ve never even been deployed, and I joined right before September 11th.” Marlow had to remind himself what that was. Damnit, why wasn’t Evan here? “There are thousands of soldiers deployed right now, and I’m typing in their stats at some computer in a cubicle. I may wear the same uniform, but I’m hardly what people think of when they imagine the military. I’m only still in because my grandmother is a retired captain with strings to pull.”
The server returned with Marlow’s order, a bowl of tourin that had all the markers of fancy French restaurant presentation that his guests expected. They were not as impressed, however, with the color, texture, or the heavy smell of garlic.
Rebirth (Cross Book 1) Page 5
