Shifting Isles Box Set (Books 1-3): The Prisoner, S.P.I.R.I.T. Division, and Return to Tanas

by G. R. Lyons

He looked around the room again, trying to find any sense of familiarity, and sighed.

  “Now what?”

  Graeden went over to the suitcases, eyeing them suspiciously, then carried them over to the bed and opened them, digging through stacks of unfamiliar clothes. He found a small, black bag in one suitcase, and opened it to find an assortment of medical tools and supplies, with the name Graeden Crawford stamped on it. In the other suitcase, the only other item besides clothing was a well-worn medical file labeled Benash. Graeden flipped through the file, but couldn't imagine its significance to him.

  Frustrated, he turned and walked around the rest of the apartment, finding frozen dinners in the freezer, few pots and pans, a handful of utensils, and no knives. Shaking his head in confusion, Graeden shut the drawer and went over to a glass desk, which came to life when he touched a small icon in the bottom left-hand corner.

  He glanced at the files and programs neatly arranged on the screen, seeing patient data and personal finances, amongst other things. Opening the personal finances icon, he saw a list of transactions all neatly labeled and categorized, but when he tried to open any particular transaction, the screen flashed a request for a password.

  Graeden wracked his brain, but couldn't think of anything, so he canceled the request and scanned the transactions again.

  Apartment rent, utility payments, and food deliveries all made sense, but then he came across payments made to the hospital itself, though he couldn't access the transactions to see what they were for. He only noted they stopped just over six months ago, according to a date stamp in the corner of the screen. There were also regular monthly payments to someone named Grace Newar, but he couldn't see what those were for, either.

  He let out a low growl and closed the windows, shutting off the screen and returning the desk to a blank slate of glass. Putting his hands on his hips, he sighed heavily and looked up, tilting his head to one side as he noticed a shallow shelf built into the wall, looking entirely out of place with nothing resting on it.

  He looked again, and thought he saw a rectangular area just above the shelf where the paint looked slightly darker than the paint around it. Graeden examined it from different angles, guessing the spot to be about two feet wide by three feet tall, but otherwise couldn't make sense of it.

  Shaking his head, he went to the washroom, the only space he still hadn't searched.

  The washroom was immaculate and cold, with no excess anywhere. The medicine cabinet was neat and organized and only half full, and the cabinet below the sink was practically empty. Giving up there, he went into the walk-in closet and searched the clothes, but found nothing unusual. Shirts in white, blue, and black hung neatly on hangers next to jackets, sweaters, and vests, while trousers hung neatly pressed, and brown and black shoes were laid out straight on one shelf, while socks and underwear were neatly folded in a drawer. All very normal for what he assumed a doctor might wear, but it still didn't seem familiar to him.

  Graeden shook his head and turned to leave, but then noticed an odd shadow in a corner of the closet. Bending down, he narrowed his eyes and thought he might have been seeing things, but when he reached behind the clothes, he found a tall, narrow box tucked away in the corner, blending in with the paint on the wall behind it.

  He shifted the box out around the clothes and carried it out to the main room, opening the top and pulling out three painted canvases.

  The first two were unframed and landscape-oriented, one showing a cozy house in the woods with a starglass Gate just beyond it, while the other showed a large pool in the foreground with a row of starglass Gates and enormous statues in the background. He set those two aside, not recognizing either image, and looked at the third, the canvas surrounded by a narrow, elegant frame.

  It was a portrait of a young woman dancing on grass with trees behind her. Her arms were flung out with joy while her hair lifted on the breeze, and the smile on her face was enchanting.

  But Graeden had no idea who she was.

  He started to set down the painting with the others, then noticed its dimensions. Picking it back up, he walked over to the shallow shelf above the desk, and slowly lifted the painting to rest on it.

  The canvas matched the faint rectangle in the paint perfectly.

  This used to hang here, he thought. What would make me take it down?

  He studied the painting again, trying to make sense of it, and saw the initials G.C. painted in the lower right-hand corner.

  Graeden blinked, looking at it again.

  “I painted these?”

  He ran back over to the other two paintings, and saw the same signature on those as well.

  “No way,” Graeden breathed, looking down at his hands, and wondered just who in seven hells he was.

  Chapter 31

  GRAEDEN STOOD at the window wall in the apartment, looking out over the city, and heard a knock at the door.

  When he answered it, he found Dr. Ker and three other people waiting in the hallway.

  “Graeden!” a woman cried, and rushed past the doctor to throw her arms around his neck. “Oh, gods, sweetie, we were so worried.”

  “Uh, Mrs. Crawford,” the doctor said.

  The woman loosened her hold on Graeden and stepped back, smiling through her tears, but then her expression fell.

  “Oh, gods, Jase was right. You don't remember a thing, do you?”

  Graeden shook his head.

  “Why don't we all go inside,” Dr. Ker suggested. “Grae?”

  “What? Oh, yes.”

  He stood aside and let the others in, and everyone stood around awkwardly, looking at each other.

  Dr. Ker cleared his throat and held out an arm. “Graeden, these are your folks, Charlie Crawford and Saira Crawford. And your grandfather…”

  “Benash Rothbur,” the elderly man supplied, looking at Graeden with intense scrutiny.

  “Benash,” Graeden mumbled. “That was the name on that file.”

  “What file?” Charlie Crawford asked.

  Graeden squeezed past them and went to the mess he'd left on the bed, feeling too out-of-place to put anything away. He retrieved the old, worn file and handed it to the old man.

  “My gods,” Benash Rothbur chuckled, flipping through it. “How did you get this?”

  Graeden shrugged. “It was in that suitcase. I don't know where it came from.”

  “This is from the hospital in Vhais,” the old man went on, shaking his head as he went through the pages. “Seven hells, their Records department must be a mess.”

  “It was,” Dr. Ker said with a snort. “So, about his memory loss…”

  The old man set the file on the coffee table and looked at Dr. Ker. “You said the scans showed nothing?”

  Dr. Ker nodded. “Here, I'll show you. Grae, why don't you come sit down?”

  Graeden noted their expectant looks, and complied, taking a seat on one couch while the visitors sat on the other, facing him.

  Dr. Ker pulled a pen of sorts out of his coat pocket and tapped the end, running it alongside Graeden's head and then resting the pen on the table as it projected a scanned image of Graeden's brain above it.

  “There's not a single indication of brain trauma,” the doctor said, grabbing the image and turning it around, examining it from every angle. “Nothing we can see that could block his memories.” He stopped and looked over at the old man. “Do you think there's a chance you could find something?”

  “I haven't done anything like that in a long time,” Benash Rothbur said. “And I've never known Graeden's mind to be accessible.”

  “He…had some practice,” Dr. Ker told him.

  The old man got up and went to sit next to Graeden, lifting his hands between them.

  “May I?” he asked. Graeden gave him a questioning look, and he said, “I'm going to read your mind, see if I can find anything the scans can't read.”

  Graeden shifted back, eyeing him with suspicion, but when he saw the hopeful expressions on the
other's faces, he went very still and nodded.

  The old man put his hands on either side of Graeden's head and closed his eyes. For a moment, nothing happened, and then he felt a very slight pressure in his head.

  The pressure vanished as the old man sat back with a gasp, looking over his shoulder and asking, “Are you seeing this?”

  Graeden looked around but didn't see anyone the man might be talking to, but then he felt the pressure in his mind again.

  “It's uncanny, isn't it?” the old man asked, looking from Graeden to something behind him and back. “What do you make of it?”

  Graeden watched as the old man seemed to listen to something, then nodded. “That's how it looks to me, too.”

  “Like what?” Dr. Ker asked.

  “May I?” The old man gestured at the scan, slipped a small pointer out of the pen without disturbing the image, and touched it to the scan. He moved the pointer, shading an area red with a shaky hand, then gave up and held the pointer over his shoulder. “You're better at this than I am.”

  He let go of the pointer, but it didn't fall. Graeden lurched back with a gasp as the pen moved of its own accord, heading toward the scan and neatly shading in an area of the brain.

  “What in seven hells is that?” Graeden asked, staring at the pointer.

  “Vorena,” the old man said, then added, “Oh, right. I forgot you never could see her.”

  Graeden looked at the others, but they all seemed completely unfazed. Dr. Ker looked slightly unsettled, but didn't question what was going on.

  “There,” the old man said once the pointer was set down. Graeden blinked and tried to push aside his unease, and looked at the red area in the scan. “That's a barrier of telepathic energy wrapped around his memories.”

  Dr. Ker leaned in close and scrutinized the scan, turning it around again, and shook his head. “It's also trapped the part of the brain that controls appetites.” He glanced over at Graeden. “You're still not hungry, are you?”

  Graeden thought for a moment, then shook his head.

  “Thirsty?”

  “No.”

  “Any sex drive?” the doctor asked. Graeden shot him a look, and the doctor narrowed his eyes. “It's a serious question, Grae.”

  Graeden looked away, feeling awkward, but when he tried to think of sex, he felt nothing whatsoever. He tried again, but not a hint of need filled his veins.

  “Nothing,” he said, looking back at Dr. Ker.

  “So how do we break through this?” Saira Crawford asked, leaning forward and pointing at the scan.

  “There is a lock on the barrier,” Benash Rothbur said. “I can't tell precisely what it is, but there is something that will break it down.”

  “Like what?” the doctor asked.

  “I have no idea. A word? A phrase? A place? A person? It could be any number of things.”

  “So, until this trigger is found, Graeden's stuck like this?” Charlie Crawford asked.

  Benash nodded. “I'm afraid so.”

  “There's no way around it?” Dr. Ker asked.

  “I've never seen anything like this before,” Benash answered. “It's not perfect, but it's a brilliant piece of work. Whoever crafted this had a very strong mind.”

  “But why would someone do this to him?” Saira Crawford asked, fighting tears. “Who would want to hurt him like this?”

  “Unless…” Dr. Ker glanced around at each person in turn, then over at Graeden with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Unless it was done to protect him. Like maybe he saw something he wasn't supposed to? Or…” He trailed off with a shrug. “Who knows?”

  “So what do we do now?” Charlie Crawford asked.

  They all shared looks, everyone seemingly at a loss for words.

  Graeden stood up and went to the door.

  “Grae?”

  You'll remember at the sight of me…or him.

  The words haunted him, and made no sense, but they were all he had.

  He looked back over his shoulder, at all the questioning, concerned faces, and tightened his hands into fists.

  “I'm going to find out who I am.”

  * * *

  ZEVIC SUCKED the last of the water from his water skin and leaned back against a tree. The officers seemed to be holding up no better than he was, but Zhadeyn was oddly calm and steady, despite her condition.

  “Are we there yet?” one officer asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

  “Silence!” Zevic roared, his voice cracking. “We'll get there when we get there.”

  And, gods, I hope it's soon, he thought, trying to maintain some shred of authority while exhaustion and hunger set in.

  They'd been walking for three days, moving slowly because Zevic wasn't entirely positive of the correct route. He only knew of the place by reputation, but he was certain he could find it as long as he kept moving north.

  He was left feeling unnerved, though, when he noticed that the farther they moved in that direction, the more calm and confident Zhadeyn looked.

  Zevic clenched his hands into fists. He couldn't wait to get where they were going so he could finally give her a sound beating, and maybe fuck her a few times while he was at it.

  Sister or not, he didn't care. She was just a woman. A warm body, good only for a man's pleasure. Nothing more.

  But a woman who had spoiled all his plans.

  And now he'd seen things the Elders had said were impossible.

  “On your feet,” he growled, storming ahead while the officers flanked Zhadeyn and trudged forward.

  They reached Sonekha and searched along the western edge of the city until they found a path leading into the woods.

  “Ah, here we are,” Zevic said.

  “Finally,” an officer muttered.

  Zevic shot him a look and charged down the path, the Fathers' sunslight filtering down through the trees as they made their way deeper into the wood.

  The wide path, once well-used, was slightly overgrown but still clearly visible as they walked straight ahead. They passed what looked like it might have once been a fork in the path, but was so weed-choked that it was difficult to tell for sure.

  Zevic stormed right past it, and after another mile, they came upon a clearing, across which was a low hillside that had clearly suffered a cave-in. An old iron gate lay mangled off to one side, and a pile of rocks was stacked nearby, leaving a dark tunnel just visible, leading down into the earth.

  “In you go,” Zevic ordered, sneering at Zhadeyn as the officers slowly crept forward, glancing back at Zevic with fear in their eyes. “I said in!”

  They hurried to obey, and Zevic followed, stopping just inside the tunnel entrance to light a torch that lay upon the ground. They followed the long, sloping tunnel down until they reached a cavernous space, half of it caved in and the other half looking about to follow.

  One iron gate still stood intact, and Zevic swung it open, shoving Zhadeyn inside and slamming it shut. He looked around for something to secure the door, not having keys, then heard a crack as the rock split overhead.

  Zevic dove out of the way, but the rock ceiling only dropped a few inches, raining dust and pebbles on him. The officers jumped back with a gasp, trembling as they looked around, while Zhadeyn merely stood there, silently observing the place and listening.

  Zevic took a deep breath and straightened up, seeing the gate slightly out of place. He grabbed the bars and went to line it up again, but it wouldn't budge.

  “What the–”

  Taking the bars with both hands, he shook and strained and pushed and pulled, but the gate didn't move so much as a fraction of an inch.

  He looked up, and saw the ceiling pressing down on the gate, holding it in place. There'd be no way to open it without a ton of rock raining down upon his head.

  “Well,” he spat, fuming over the fact that he wouldn't be able to punish her, “looks like you're stuck here for good.”

  Zhadeyn kept her face carefully blank, and Zevic turned on
his heel, the officers following as he strode back up the tunnel and hurried outside. He took a deep breath, sighing with relief to be out of that cramped space, and turned on the officers.

  “I'm going to town for supplies,” he announced. “You two will stand guard here until I get back.”

  The officers clearly weren't pleased with the situation, but they nodded agreement and adopted defensive stances at the entrance to the tunnel. Zevic trudged alone back toward Sonekha, praying for some food, a bed, and a woman or two before he returned to give Zhadeyn some sort of punishment.

  Though, what that would be, since he couldn't physically reach her, he couldn't quite figure out.

  Chapter 32

  GRAEDEN SAT on the marble ground in Divinity Square, right before what had once been the Gate to Tanas, and rested his arms across his knees.

  He'd spent the past three days walking around the city, talking to people who claimed to know him, searching through files on his desk computer, studying the hospital, and trying every possible passcode he could think of, but he was no closer to finding out who he was.

  There were too many questions. Too many things that didn't make sense.

  Like: Who was Grace Newar, and why was he paying her every month?

  Why were the paintings boxed up? Why weren't they on display?

  Why was his apartment so stark and empty? Lifeless?

  What in seven hells did the number 607 mean?

  Who were the people he was supposed to see who would give him his memory back?

  “Grae?”

  Shaken from his thoughts, Graeden glanced over his shoulder and saw Jase Ker strolling casually toward him.

  “How're you holding up?” Jase asked, sitting down beside him.

  Graeden shook his head. “Nothing makes any sense.”

  He looked straight ahead at where the Tanasian Gate used to stand. Now, all that remained was an empty gold frame. The pile of shards had already been swept up and carried away.

  “Did I do this?” he asked quietly, nodding at the remains.

  “No, it was almost an hour after,” Jase said. “Apparently, there was a janitor polishing the plaques back there on the statues, and he saw you come through and get carried off, and then someone else came through, and then returned and went back to Tanas. A few minutes later, the Gate simply shattered.”