The Blood of Seven

by Claire L. Fishback

  “He saved my granddaughter, and in doing so, discovered who she is.” He finished off his glass of water. “Any time she cried, any time she was in distress of any kind, his blood inside his Protector necklace lit a glorious blue-white.”

  She pulled the necklace from beneath her shirt.

  “That is it. When filled with blood it will glow.”

  Glowing blood. Ann looked at the back of her hand. “Did his veins glow?” she asked.

  “Veins? No. Just the blood in the vial.” Raghib paused. “Why do you ask?”

  “Mine did. A few days ago. They tingle every once in a while, too.” She stuffed the necklace back into her shirt. “I also got a mark over my heart. Like a brand.” She pulled her shirt collar aside.

  Raghib sucked in a breath. “The Sa,” he whispered.

  “What is this? What does it mean?”

  “The Sa is the mark of the Protector. Does it hurt?”

  “Not anymore. But it burned like hell when I first got it.”

  “Did you see anything—any visions?”

  “Nothing too concrete,” Ann said. “A silhouette of a girl and a book. The mountains here.” She gestured vaguely around them.

  Raghib nodded. “And when did this happen?”

  “Friday.”

  “She turned seven on Friday,” Raghib said, his eyes intense. “Seven is an influential number in the Gnostic world. What time of day was it?”

  Ann shrugged. “Early morning. Like three or four.” She walked to the edge of the patio.

  Raghib made an affirmative sound. “Just as I thought. Your blood activated at the exact date and time she was born. The exact moment she turned seven.”

  “She who?” Ann asked over her shoulder.

  “My granddaughter,” Raghib said. “My Magdalene.”

  Ann spun around. “Magdalene . . . ?”

  “Mr. Bram called her Maggie.”

  Ann’s heart triple beat, and she almost choked on her next words. “As in Maggie Hart?”

  Raghib nodded. “She is who you are bound by blood and soul to protect.”

  Ann fell onto the chair and gripped the arm.

  “This is why you are here now,” Raghib said. “Mr. Bram told me much about you. That you are as stubborn as him—but also a realist. He said you might not return to Harmony. But you were called, were you not?”

  Ann opened and closed her mouth. Was she? She certainly needed to get away from Salida, from her trauma. Harmony was the only place she thought of to go. Because of the box.

  “My dad—the stuff in the box. That’s what brought me here.”

  Raghib shrugged. “Your father’s plan, I assure you. He knew you might not heed the call of Sophia. The vision, Ann.”

  She sat in silence, trying to let this sink in, but Raghib spoke again.

  “Did she give you the book?”

  Ann sighed. “She tried, but I didn’t take it. I didn’t understand why she wanted to give it to me.”

  “You must keep both of them safe,” Raghib said. “The Messengers will be looking for the book. If it is in Maggie’s possession, they will hurt her to obtain it.”

  “Why the hell does she have it then?”

  “We could not trust anyone else.” Raghib scratched his beard. “I stole the book from them, and they learned I was working for both sides. Fortunately, this was my last duty before going into hiding. Before all of us went into hiding.” The way he said the words indicated it was a euphemism for something else.

  “Why are you saying it like that?”

  “The Messengers had grown in numbers and power. Our members, the Protectorate’s, were in danger. Bram devised a plan to remove us in an impermanent fashion before the Messengers could do so permanently. They’d already started killing us off, one by one.”

  The Protectors had all faked their own deaths. Left their families behind without a word. Disappeared. Started over somewhere else with alternate identities.

  “Even Protector Allegiants, those sworn to serve the Protectors, were told to do it.”

  “That explains why Maggie believes her baba dead.”

  “The Messengers started coming after the Allegiants to find the Protectors. They started targeting our spouses and our children to gain information about the Protectors, and when we didn’t give them what they wanted, they killed us, too.”

  The way he spoke gave her chills, as if he had returned from the grave to tell her this.

  “We did what we had to do to keep our families safe. To keep our secrets, safe. To keep the book and the passages safe. To keep Maggie . . .” he hitched in a breath, “safe.”

  “Are you sure my dad didn’t fake his own death?” Her mouth went dry. She searched Raghib’s eyes. He searched hers.

  “I am certain he is gone, but even if he was still alive, you would never find him.”

  “I would spend the rest of my goddamn life looking for him.” She jumped to her feet again. “I have connections. I could find him.”

  “Your energies are best spent in protecting what your bloodline is meant to protect.”

  “If there are other Protectors, can they help me? Can I maybe call one and learn what there is to learn about this?” A sudden anger toward her father filled her. “I need information, Raghib. My dad didn’t tell me shit.” Ann paced at the edge of the concrete pad.

  “They can’t help you, Ann,” he said with sad determination. “As I mentioned before, no one knows where they went, or where they are today, or if they are even still alive.”

  She growled. “What the hell am I supposed to do then? Stumble through this on my own?”

  Raghib stood and stopped her with raised hands.

  “You must retrieve the book from Maggie. It will show you the way.”

  “Enough of this cryptic bullshit.”

  “I am a Protector Allegiant, nothing more. I do not understand all of the operations of the Protectorate. My duty is to act as ally. To assist the Protect—”

  “I’m supposedly the only Protector not in hiding. You say it’s your duty to assist me, so assist me. What am I supposed to do?” Ann hated the frustrated desperation clinging to her voice. She turned and faced him.

  “You are not just the only Protector,” he said. “You are the Protector.”

  Ann’s scalp prickled. “The Protector. Not a Protector.”

  “Yes.” He took in a deep breath. “Your mother and father were both Protectors. Your unique combination of genes has marked you as—for lack of a better term—The One.”

  “You’re goddamn crazy,” Ann said. “The One? Like Neo in The Matrix?”

  Raghib gave her a confused look.

  “Never mind.” Ann unzipped her jacket and let in some of the cold air. “My mother was part of this, too?” She sat down hard on the chair. “How did I not know any of this?”

  “After your birth, your mother left the Protectorate to focus her attention on you,” Raghib said. “It is Bram and Mary’s combination of genes that is the reason your veins glow, the reason for the mark over your heart.” Raghib sighed as if delivering this piece of information lifted a great weight from his shoulders.

  He moved to sit but glanced at his watch. “I’ve been here too long. I must go.”

  “How do I find you in case . . . in case of whatever?”

  “I’m staying in room six at the Harmony B&B,” he said. “Get the book. Protect my granddaughter.”

  Chapter 23

  Teresa bounded up the steps of the abandoned funeral home.

  “Tiff—” Her voice caught in her throat.

  Inside, she didn’t find the cave lit by torches. She found an old, lumpy couch and a floor littered with plaster from the crumbling ceiling. An old sleeping bag lay balled up in the corner with some burned newspapers scattered around it. The place smelled of urine and dead animals. She held her hand over her mouth and nose and backed out of the house.

  Maybe the cave only appeared when Tiffany was with her. Or Tiffany’s friend
. She didn’t know his name. A breeze blew across the front porch, though the nearby trees remained still. She glanced back into the house expecting the view to have changed, but it remained the same. She let out a defeated sigh and walked back to town.

  With the baby’s furniture gone from the basement, Teresa didn’t know what to do with herself. Most mornings she sat down there for hours. It seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had happened.

  At the town square she turned to the new cemetery and sat at Tiffany’s grave. Now that Tiffany visited her, the grave didn’t hold the same meaning. There were only remains inside. Tiffany’s soul was with her. Guiding her so they could be together again.

  Teresa didn’t know where else to go, so she went home. Derrick’s car was in the driveway. Finally. Where had they gone? She was surprised to find she actually wanted to hear all about it. Things were changing. Mother would be proud.

  For a brief moment, she wondered where they took the baby’s furniture. Probably the donation center in the church so another family could benefit from her pain. She frowned, then thought twice. It was just furniture. Her baby would return to her soon.

  “I’m home,” she called when she walked in the front door.

  No one answered. She hung up her jacket.

  “Hello?”

  “In here,” Derrick’s voice called back. It wasn’t a happy, here-we-are-thank-goodness-you’re-home kind of voice. It held that same disappointed tone he seemed to use more and more with her lately. What had she done this time? What hadn’t she done?

  Teresa sighed and shuffled down the hall toward the family room, but she stopped in the kitchen. Her mud-caked slippers sat on the back mat. She looked at Derrick in the living room with Maggie. His shoulders tensed as if he sensed her gaze.

  Maggie leaned over a piece of paper and some crayons on the coffee table. Derrick patted her on the back.

  “Keep at it. I need to talk to Teresa for a minute.”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  Angry lines formed between his forehead and around his mouth. He came toward Teresa, and when she backed away, he stopped. His shoulders slumped. The lines disappeared.

  “Can we talk?” Weariness filled his voice.

  Teresa nodded and slinked to the back door. She stepped out onto the porch and crossed her arms. Derrick followed.

  “What happened to your slippers?” he asked.

  “I . . . don’t know.” She lowered her eyes. Derrick stepped closer. A tentative, sliding step like he was trying to catch a frightened rabbit.

  “Is everything all right? Are you sleeping okay?” He reached toward her and touched her arm. “I can prescribe something . . .”

  Teresa broke then. She knew her face became hideous when she cried, so she covered it with both hands. Derrick pulled her against him, his body strong and warm.

  “I don’t know what’s going on.” She wanted to tell him everything, confess her sins, but she couldn’t. He would think she was crazy. Instead, she melted against him and relished the fact that he was there with her. Right now. He wasn’t off with Maggie having fun without her. Teresa closed her eyes and smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

  “Where did you go today?” she asked. His heart beat in her ear.

  “Gold Bowl, that little ghost town near Pine Valley.” No further details.

  She looked up at him. “Did you have fun?”

  “Yeah. It’s a cool little town.” Derrick let go of her, leaned against the porch rail, and crossed his arms. Why was he being so distant now? It was like he didn’t want to share any details, because then she would be a part of it. A part of them.

  “What else did you do?” she asked.

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Grabbed some lunch. The library had a kids’ day thing, so I took her there, stopped for some ice cream, and came home.”

  “Sounds like fun.” Teresa rubbed her arm. “I wish I could have gone with you.”

  “Yeah,” Derrick said. “Why are you avoiding the real subject?”

  Teresa took a step back. “Real?”

  “The slippers?” He motioned to the door where they lurked on the other side. “What’s going on? First the bloody rock and the kids, and now your slippers. Just tell me. I want to help you.”

  “I–I just . . .” At a loss for words, she shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “I took a walk and didn’t realize it had snowed.”

  “You took a walk in your slippers?”

  Teresa scratched the side of her neck and avoided his eyes. She gazed out over their back yard and through the neighbors’ glass door. They were sitting down to dinner as a family. They probably ate all of their meals together.

  “Why don’t we do things together anymore?” she asked in a small voice. “Remember back before Tiffany—we used to go on dates, and kiss, and hold each other, and . . .” She shrugged. “Make love.” She glanced at him. His brows were creased with confusion.

  “That was all before Mountain View.” His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat. “Before the drugs changed you into someone else.” His voice didn’t match his lips, like a badly dubbed movie. Teresa couldn’t figure out how that could be. She closed her eyes and massaged her eyelids. When she opened them, Derrick was looking at her with an expectant expression.

  “I’m sorry, what? Did you ask me something?”

  “You’re not even listening to me.” He let out an exasperated sound, reached for her, then dropped his hands. “I’m trying to talk to you, Teresa. I’m trying to connect with you here, and you’re off in La La Land.” Now he looked at the back yard.

  “I was listening. You said something about Mountain View and the drugs,” she said.

  He faced her, and the movement made her shy from him. “I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything like that.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “No, I didn’t. I’m not arguing with you like this. It’s childish.” He rubbed his hand on his forehead, then through his hair. “I’m taking you back to Mountain View.”

  Again, the words didn’t match the movement of his lips.

  “I’ve had enough of your crazy behavior. Your mother would be ashamed of you, making me unhappy like this.” Even his gestures didn’t match. He held out his arms to her. Now he was crazy. There was no way she was going to hug him now, not after what he just said.

  The back door opened a crack.

  “Daddy?”

  “Not now, Maggie,” Teresa said, her voice sterner than she’d meant. Maggie looked at her. “We’re having an adult conversation. Go back inside.”

  Maggie looked at Derrick.

  “Don’t look at him. I am your mother.” Her voice rose in pitch. “You do as I say.”

  Maggie startled away from the door. It clicked shut.

  “Don’t talk to her like that,” Derrick said. “She’s a human being.” He thrust a finger at her. “We aren’t through here.”

  Teresa followed him inside. “Yes, we are. You are not taking me back to Mountain View.”

  “Maggie?” Derrick called. He turned to Teresa. “I didn’t say a goddamn thing about Mountain View.” He ran down the hall to the bottom of the stairs. “Maggie?” He ran upstairs and back down a few seconds later. “She’s gone,” he shouted. “Mag—” his voice cut off when he ran outside and slammed the door behind him.

  Teresa flung her hands in the air. She grabbed her muddy slippers and threw them in the trash.

  Chapter 24

  After Raghib left, the temperature dropped. Flurries accumulated in the grass.

  The One.

  What a cliché. She couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe it. She didn’t buy the concept of—what was this even called? Magic?

  She didn’t feel like The One. The Protector. She couldn’t protect jack shit.

  Just ask Bruce’s wife, or Elizabeth’s parents.

  Ann had a sudden need to make sure Maggie was okay. Elizabeth had only been Maggie’s age when the Stabber cut her life short. She jumpe
d in her truck, turned it on, and ran the wipers. The snow was still fairly light, but that could change in an instant. She cranked up the heat, flipped on the headlights, and set off toward the other side of town to the newer residential district where the houses were only forty years old instead of eighty-plus.

  The snowflakes thickened. Visibility worsened as the sun slipped behind King Mountain. The defroster in the old beast wasn’t up to snuff. Ann wiped at the glass, and her headlights caught the figure of a child walking with her shoulders hunched against the storm.

  Ann swerved. The truck spun and thudded to a stop when the ass-end slammed into a telephone pole. She jumped out and ran to the sidewalk.

  “Holy sh–crap, kid,” Ann said. Maggie stood shivering and wet without a coat. Ann tore off her own jacket and wrapped it around the girl. She stuffed her into the truck.

  “What are you doing out here without a coat?” Ann demanded.

  Maggie’s teeth chattered so fiercely she couldn’t talk.

  “I’ll get you home,” Ann said.

  “No!” Maggie yelled. Her face contorted, and she started to cry. The mark tingled. “They were fighting. Teresa hates me.”

  “Okay, okay. Calm down, please calm down. I’ll take you to the station, warm you up, and we’ll call your dad.”

  Maggie leaned forward to adjust the vent, and Ann’s jacket fell away. She had the book clutched against her chest.

  “You carry that thing with you everywhere?”

  Maggie didn’t answer. Ann maneuvered the truck back onto the road. A minute later, she drove past the station.

  “That’s the sta—hey, where are you going?” Maggie asked.

  “I’m sorry, kid. Protocol. I gotta check if your parents are home first.” Guilt settled in Ann’s gut. Maggie kept shivering despite the blasting heat.

  At Derrick’s house, lights flooded from the front room. She peeked in the window next to the door and thought she saw movement down the hall, but she couldn’t be sure. She knocked, rang the bell, and waited. No one answered.

  Ann climbed back into her truck.