by Luke Valen
Joining the two, I took my place. “This looks great, sir. Thank you for having me.”
“Of course, Dean. I had to meet this mysterious boy that Abigail has been spending time with.” His smile was contagious. His teeth so perfectly square and whiter than the snow that lined the town.
“Oh, Daddy, you know we are just working on a project together,” Abigail said quickly. I watched her, then I looked back at Mr. Li’Ved and nodded yes in agreement.
“What kind of project was it again?” he kindly asked, grabbing his fork and knife. Abigail, and I quickly glanced at one another as if to send Morse code with our eyes.
“It’s for history class,” she said, also grabbing her fork and knife. “Right, Dean?”
I nodded. “Yes, that is right, Abigail.”
Maybe I wasn’t as good a liar as I’d thought.
“Oh, that’s right, you were doing a project on ancient Israel,” her father said as he began to cut into his steak with a knife that looked like it was from the Knights of the Round Table. “You know, I have some original artifacts from Israel. Would you like to see them after dinner?”
Interested, I jumped in. “That would be great, sir. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to keep calling me sir. Mr. Li’Ved is fine.”
“Yes, sir…I mean, Mr. Li’Ved.” I cut into my steak. The juicy meat was so tender it was like cutting through butter. My mouth dribbled with saliva as I took a generous bite of the exquisite cuisine. That single bite was the most delectable thing my taste buds had ever experienced. My eyes lit up in pure joy. I cut the next pieces faster. I couldn’t eat them quick enough.
“You were hungry. Slow down, son. There is more where that came from,” Mr. Li’Ved said, watching me devour the plate.
“Sorry, sir—Mr. Li’Ved. It’s just, I have never tasted anything like this before,” I said, trying to finish a bite.
“Incredible, I know. So, Dean, tell me about yourself. What do your parents do? I may know them here in town. I do own most of the local businesses.” Mr. Li’Ved took another bite and then a sip of red wine from a glass goblet trimmed with gold.
I didn’t know what to say. Taking a drink of my water and looking down at my food, I said, “I never knew my parents.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He wiped his mouth.
“It’s fine.” A half smile curled from my lips as I looked up at Abigail. She smiled back, trying to hide it from her father.
“Well, you seem to be doing okay for yourself, son.”
Who does he think I am? His son? I hate when people call me that. “I suppose so.”
He had no clue what I had gone through or the wild days that had recently come to pass. Abigail sat there, so quiet she was either really enjoying her food or trying to make it through the dinner alive—I couldn’t determine which. Either way, she didn’t want her dad to find out anything about what she had been up to with me, I could tell.
He broke the silence. “What is it about ancient Israel that you two are working on?”
“Mainly the art during the times of war,” Abigail said, looking up. She was just as quick as her father.
“Amazing. After dinner let me show you two something. I’m sure it will help your research. Better in person than out of some book,” Mr. Li’Ved said, taking another bite of his steak. He really didn’t seem like a bad guy to me. For some reason Abigail had led him on to be something of a strict man.
I dove back into my meal. The meat was so tender it melted in my mouth before I could even chew it. The potatoes and vegetables were seasoned so perfectly. I had never had a meal this entrancing. I looked up at Abigail and smiled. She seemed to be playing with her food. She caught my smile and smiled back.
Mr. Li’Ved took a sip from his goblet. “Come, let us go have a look. I’m sure you’re going to love it.” He cleaned his mouth, threw the silk napkin on his plate, and stood to lead us. We followed, though leaving the table was a sad task. All the food was so unimaginably good I didn’t want to ever stop. Though I’m glad we did—my stomach was beginning to rip at the seams.
Standing up, Abigail seemed to not want to look my direction. Her eyes were on the floor and she was twiddling her fingers nervously. What was he going to show us?
Abigail opened up. “Daddy, I haven’t seen you this interested in something other than work in…well, ever.”
“Come on, baby, you know I love history. Look at all we have!” He threw his hands in the air, boasting his collection.
This was true. Everything that decorated this estate was some kind of artifact, art piece, or trophy from what looked like a very, very long time ago.
Leaving the dining room, he led us through the adjacent hallway and through the marble home. We approached large, arched doors. “Here we go,” he said as he grabbed the two round, iron rod handles of the chamber’s guarded wooden doors. The room opened into one with ceilings so high they looked like they didn’t end. Paintings and glass cases were everywhere—it was a museum. Everything was organized so nicely. Glass cases housed single artifacts, and walls were lined with paintings ranging in size from as small as a quarter to as large as a barn door. Each case and piece of art was individually lit to exemplify its unique beauty.
“Wow, this is incredible.” My senses filled to the max. I spun around trying to take it all in.
“Thank you, Dean. I have been collecting for quite some time. There are still some pieces that have eluded me. But I will have them. Yes, indeed,” Mr. Li’Ved said, placing his hand on my shoulder. His hand was warm—oddly, I could feel its heat through my shirt.
The pieces took my mind on a rollercoaster of curiosity and yearning to know more. Something about it all felt so familiar. A painting caught my eye. I moved closer, breaking away from his grip. It was more than familiar—I’d seen it just today. “This painting—I have seen it before.” I pointed and moved closer.
He approached the art, taking it in. “You must be mistaken; this original is the only of its kind.”
“No, no, I’ve seen it in a book.” I said.
“What book?” His voice quivered as he spun me around to face him. He was on me like a shark that smelled blood, leaning in close to my face.
“I don’t know, just a book?” I responded.
“What did the book look like?” He grabbed my arm tightly. “You must remember that.”
“Mr. Li’Ved…my arm.”
His eyes gripped harder than his hands. I could feel his stare. His blue eyes darkened and dilated as if searching the confines of my own blackened pupils.
“Daddy, stop it. You’re embarrassing me,” Abigail said, worried.
He released his grip and slicked back his thick blond hair. Taking a breath and standing upright, he calmed down. “My apologies, Dean. I have been searching for a book of such nature for a very long time.”
A bead of sweat trickled down my head. The room was so hot—that or the pressure of meeting Abigail’s father was getting to me.
“You’re sweating, son. Here, let me take your coat.”
There it was again. Quit calling me your son. I turned to give him my coat as he gently took it off my shoulders, walked back to the entrance of the room, and placed it on a rack near the door.
“Thank you. It is getting warm,” I said, trying to ease the tension.
“Daddy, what is this?” Abigail had found a glass case that drew her curiosity. She leaned in so close to the glass that her breath became visible on the surface of the smooth, clear enclosure.
“That, baby, is the whip that was used at a very bad man’s time of judgment back in the time of the crucifixions.”
“Which man?” I asked.
He stared at me hard once again. “I don’t remember, Dean. I won it at an auction a few years back in northern Egypt.”
Shrugging it off, I moved through the museum he had built. So many interesting things, so much history in one room, it was overwhelming. The smell of old leather books fille
d the air. “What is this here?” A glass case that encompassed a triangular-shaped stone had caught my eye.
“That is said to be the fabled stone that David used to kill the Goliath in the stories from the Bible. Is it true? I don’t know, but I wanted it anyway,” he said.
“What is this mark on it?” I pointed through the glass.
Mr. Li’Ved moved closer and took a look. “That’s nothing, I’m sure. Just a crack from when it hit the monster in the head. All right, that’s enough adventure for one night.” Mr. Li’Ved quickly moved us out of the room. We made our way to the front door. “I’ll find some pieces from the specific era you’re studying and pull them for your next visit.”
The hallway had an awkward silence to it with the only sounds echoing from our footsteps.
“Ahh, I forgot my jacket! I’ll be right back!” I turned quickly and ran back to grab my jacket from Mr. Li’Ved’s mini museum.
“Dean!” I could hear Mr. Li’Ved yelling as I neared the two large wooden doors. Pulling them open was like pulling a train, the doors were so heavy. As I grabbed my jacket, I saw something in the back that I hadn’t seen while we were in there. A large object covered by a massive black sheet. It must have been at least twenty-five feet tall. The black cloak glistened a bit in the light as air swirled through the room. I couldn’t unlock my gaze. Creeping forward, I made sure not to knock anything over.
As I got closer to the towering black sheet, I could feel it. An energy, a familiar energy. Like I knew it…
“Dean,” Mr. Li’Ved said, startling me. “You find your jacket?” He was looming just a foot away.
“Yes, sir, right here,” I said, taking one last look at the covered object.
“Good. Let’s get going,” he said.
We moved through the room in line, Mr. Li’Ved following close behind. Exiting the room and once again in the hallway, I said, “Thank you for dinner, sir. It was great.”
“You’re very welcome, Dean. Come back soon.” Mr. Li’Ved reached out his hand, as did I. This time with a bit of caution hoping not to receive the same lapse in consciousness as before. Gripping his hand, I felt nothing. He smiled.
Releasing his hand, I then reached out for Abigail’s. “Thank you, Abigail.”
“No need, see you in class,” she lied as she shook my hand. She wouldn’t see me in class.
Turning to leave, I found myself longing to stay.
I am the curious cat.
CHAPTER 8
A PAST LIFE
A couple weeks had passed since that night I had gone to dinner with Abigail and her father. Things had been seemingly normal. I haven’t seen a creature or felt “off” in any way since that night. I was beginning to think all that I had seen or felt was just caused by anxiety or fear since Abigail had entered my life. Maybe I was scared of letting someone in—she was the only person who had intrigued me to do so in all the years I had been on this earth. Every family I had ever been a part of or fostered into had been repulsive to me. The thought of letting any of them in had been incomprehensible. Then Abigail came along, and it was like I had no other choice but to let her in.
Now that I had, I was glad.
It was a calm and sunny afternoon, and everyone was in school. The town was quiet as the parents went to work and the kids all sat half asleep in class. I couldn’t help but wonder what it was that Mr. Li’Ved was protecting under that sheet in his museum. My curiosity would be the end of me one day. I couldn’t sit in the church and do nothing; my mind was racing with questions and my body was jittery with energy. Just as I stood up to make my way out of my house—
“Dean!” Bryon came bursting in. “What is up, brother man?”
“Hey, Bryon, what’s going on?” I said, putting on my coat.
“Dude, Jade wants to see you. She said she may have found something that is going to interest you,” Bryon said. It must have been freezing out—Bryon was covered in a full fur parka, gloves, snow boots, and a backpack. His small demeanor made it look like the clothes were swallowing him alive.
“What is it?” I asked.
“She wouldn’t say. She just said to come get you as soon as possible.” Bryon hopped a couple steps back, motioning to follow.
“Don’t you have class right now?” I asked.
“Oh nah, it’s just Home Ec. Mr. Wright falls asleep every class. You ready?” he said.
I nodded yes, grabbed my journal, and followed Bryon out of the front doors. I actually had a lot to show Jade as well. All the stuff in Mr. Li’Ved’s house was too much not to tell anyone, especially Jade. The snow had begun to melt across town, making muddy puddles all over the place like land mines.
“The snow melted early this year,” I said just as the breeze blew by, instantly freezing my nose. “How is it still freezing if everything is melted?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. It must be all the global warming that people joked about. Poor Mother Earth is spazzing out,” Bryon said, putting a new pair of headphones on and skipping down the road. I wonder what he was listening to.
The sun shone brightly in the sky, burning off the clouds that remained and warming the town to a nice spring temperature. The trees seemed to open their arms and accept the sun like a wonderful gift from their Mother Nature. This weather was very bipolar. I had never seen it like this before.
Making it to Jade’s was becoming something fun to do. Like going to a friend’s house to hang out, something I had never really done before.
Bryon entered the secret opening and we made our way down the tree’s inner staircase and into the giant underground labyrinth. Something about Jade’s hideaway felt safe. The floors made of dirt seemed warm; the tall support beams holding the place together were strong. The bookcases lining the underground walls were old and dusty, containing so much knowledge. The energy of the room was amazing.
“AH! Dean, Bryon! You made it,” Jade said with open arms and a dusty face. She made her way over to us, her hair a mess and covered in dirt. Her green eyes barely visible through her smeared goggles.
“All right, Jade, I got him here. Now tell us what it is that you found,” Bryon said, pretending to hold up a gun he made with his hand.
“Ah yes! Follow me.” She scurried off through the cavern and through a door I had not seen the first time. The door was carved into to wall of dirt, and just past it a narrow hall lined with mining lamps for a hundred yards lit the way to a room at the end of the tunnel. The room it led to was small and dark and had just enough light to see two feet in front. There in the middle of the room was a desk with a large, leather-bound book on it. It was clasped shut with iron locks.
“What is this, Jade?” I asked. It must have been special—it was the only thing in the room, unlike the main room.
“Whoa,” Bryon said as he slid his hand down the side of the iron clasps. “This is awesome.”
“This, Dean…is you,” Jade said as she pointed to the oddly shaped opening. It was just like my birthmark.
“Where did you find this?” I reached to grab the book. Jade and Bryon stood tableside.
“This book came to me two years ago when I first traveled the desert lands of southern Jordan. I was on a dig site on the inner chambers of the Al-Khazneh…”
My hands wrapped around the book, and I felt home. My mind was full, the memories pounding at the gates of my brain and begging to come in.
“The what?” Bryon asked.
“The Al-Khazneh—it is also known as the Treasury at Petra. Part of the Rose City from Ma’an Governorate, Jordan. This is a holy city to the Jews. A place of great spiritual activity,” Jade explained, reaching into her back pocket and pulled out a small book full of images of temples carved from rock. “It is said that this is the location that Aaron the high priest, brother of Moses, died. Aaron was said to have been one of the first great prophets of God, appointed by God himself through Moses at Mount Sinai when Moses had received the law.” She pointed to a picture of a man holding two large
stone tablets and another man standing next to him.
“WHOAAA,” Bryon gaped. He reached in his pocket, pulling out a handful of trail mix and stuffing it into his mouth.
“Dude, really? How do you not get fat? Jade, go on.” I placed the book back on the desk and traced its every detail. Jade handed me her small picture book, allowing me to flip through the pages. My eyes were as wide as could be, taking in as much as I could. My mind was searching its deepest corners for connections. For answers.
“As I was saying, Aaron was a great prophet, yet very little of his work was ever recorded. I was at the dig site to examine the art of the people to see if there were any more clues as to what Aaron had seen or said.” Jade reached for the small book, and continued to flip through the pages. “He had died before the Jews could cross the Jordan River and was not able to give his work to anyone. Anyway, as I was excavating the area, I had remembered a local folktale that I had heard about the Nabateans, the local Arab peoples. It was said that they had found his works and hidden them away inside the temple within the walls to keep others from discovering what he had prophesied.”
Her hands stopped on one of the small pages. Bryon took another bite of his trail mix, chewing quietly. I looked at Jade, her glance of approval moved my eyes to the small book. There it was, an image of the very book that lay on the desk in front of us. The design, my mark, the metal clasps. It was the exact one. I looked back up to Jade’s amazed green eyes.
“Everyone else had dug and dug and found nothing. By the time I had got there, the place had become a ‘world gem’ and nothing could be accessed.” Jade took a breath. She was now pacing the room. “I’m rambling, I’m sorry. Anyway, there was this itching feeling I had to examine the walls themselves. Within the walls didn’t mean it was inside the structure, but inside the walls themselves. The art led me straight to it. Your symbol was thought to have been one of the uncoded words from the Dead Sea, but it wasn’t. It was a map! It was the one symbol out of place—it lay there on the wall, so obvious. I cracked into that wall and there it was.”
