by G. R. Lyons
“How?”
“Destroyed on the other side, I would imagine.”
“I thought…Doesn't everyone say that no one comes through here?”
Jase nodded and cleared his throat. “Security at the hospital showed me some footage this morning, of the night you were brought in. Grae, I think this block on your memories was for your protection.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because the man who came through the Gate after you…He had a gun. I think he meant to kill you, but stopped when he realized you had no memory.”
Graeden frowned, shaking his head. “Why would someone want to kill me?”
Jase snorted. “If you could remember this guy, you'd know why. Nasty piece of work, that one.”
“Who was he?”
“Bureaucrat from Tanas.”
Graeden shivered, disgusted just at the sound of the word.
“Yeah, I know,” Jase said with a laugh. “You and he went 'round and 'round a few times.” Graeden raised an eyebrow at him, and Jase shook his head. “Probably pointless for me to be telling you all this, huh?”
Graeden considered an answer, then shrugged. “None of it sounds believable.”
“Well,” Jase said, getting up, “if you ever get your memory back, I don't think you'll ever doubt the possibility of anything ever again. We saw some pretty amazing stuff over there. Especially you.”
Graeden got up to join him.
“Like wh–”
He swayed dizzily, and Jase caught him.
“You alright?”
Graeden blinked several times while he tried to find his balance, feeling lightheaded and shaky.
“Shit, Grae,” Jase said, grabbing him by the shoulders and leveling a look at him. “When was the last time you ate?”
“I…Uh…”
“Grae, have you eaten at all since you've been back?”
Graeden thought for a moment, and slowly shook his head. “I don't think so.”
Jase sighed, chuckling to himself and rolling his eyes.
“Come on. Let's get you something to eat.”
“I'm not hungry,” Graeden complained, half leaning against his apparent friend while he tried to walk steadily.
“Well, tough, because you're going to eat anyway. And you're going to eat at every meal time whether you like it or not until we figure this thing out, alright?”
Graeden raised an eyebrow at him and stumbled into the hospital, Jase catching him before he fell.
“I never thought I'd see the day I had to play doctor to you,” Jase said, laughing. “Come on, let's go see if we can't pester Leni and Quinn at their lunch breaks.”
They reached the cafeteria, and Graeden forced down some food, though he still felt no hunger, then went back to his apartment while Jase went back to work.
Graeden stepped into the elevator, trying to think of something to do. He reached out to press the button for the top floor, then stopped as his hand passed the button for level six.
He tilted his head, looking at the button, and jammed his finger against it. He'd tried every possible meaning of the number 607 that he could think of, except for an apartment number.
Passcodes, phone numbers, dates—none of it panned out.
But an apartment number just might.
Besides, it was the last thing he could think of.
He stepped off the elevator and glanced both ways down the hall. Turning right, he read the apartment numbers as he went by, then stopped at a door labeled 607.
Taking a deep breath, Graeden reached out and knocked.
“Just a moment!” a woman's voice called.
Graeden waited, hearing some laughter and commotion, then footsteps coming closer before the door swung open.
“Dr. Crawford!”
Graeden looked at the woman, pretty and plump, in her middle years, wearing an apron over her dress while a pair of glasses hung from a chain around her neck.
“Oh, you did make it back!” she said with a smile, giving him a quick hug. “Oh, how won–”
“I'm sorry,” he interrupted her, holding out a hand. “Do I know you?”
Her smile slowly faded as she looked at him. Quickly composing herself, she squeezed past him into the hallway and pulled the door closed.
“I wasn't sure the rumors were true,” she said, lowering her voice. “You really have lost your memory.”
Graeden nodded. “I can't remember a thing, but the number 607 seems important somehow. I don't know why. Are…Are we…related, or…”
“Oh, gods, no,” the woman said with a friendly laugh. “No, we had an arrangement, nothing more.”
Graeden tried to keep his face blank. “What…kind of arrangement?”
The woman looked toward the door, as though looking through the apartment, then back at him.
“Graeden, dear, listen,” she said seriously. “If I tell you, it'll only confuse you more in your current state. Besides, I wouldn't be able to explain it all to you, anyway.”
“Why's that?”
“Because you never told me the whole story, either.”
Graeden took a step back, shaking his head, only feeling more confused. He tried to find something to say, then waved at her quickly and headed for the elevator.
“Graeden!” she called.
He stopped and looked at her while he waited for the car to arrive.
“I know this won't mean much to you now,” she said, “but it'll help when you get your memory back. Just remember this: Everything is fine. You have nothing to worry about here.”
She nodded toward the door of her apartment, and reached for the handle.
“What does that mean?” he asked as the elevator car arrived.
“You'll know what it means when your memories return.”
With that, she went back inside, giving him one last sympathetic look as she closed the door. Graeden caught the elevator door before it shut, and stepped inside, pressing the button for the top floor.
“I have to solve this,” he mumbled, growling out the words. He slammed a fist against the wall. “But how?”
* * *
ZEVIC REACHED reached the entrance of the old underground prison and stopped. For two months, he'd been going there, day after day, trying to wrest answers from Zhadeyn, but had not yet succeeded.
He let out a sigh. He was growing bored.
No, he was beyond bored.
Even the women he'd taken on as wives could no longer appease him. The dreary routine of walking to the prison, yelling at Zhadeyn, walking back to his temporary apartment, being fed whatever the women made, and doing it all over again the next day…
He just couldn't stand it any longer. Especially when memories of Agoran still plagued his mind.
Clenching his hands into fists, he trudged down the tunnel and walked right up to Zhadeyn's cell.
“Leave us,” he barked, and the two new armed guards went outside.
Zhadeyn stood in the middle of her cell, leveling a look at him, her features menacing in the flickering light of torches that lit the crumbling, underground space.
“I've about had it with you, woman,” Zevic growled. “I know you know another way off this Isle. Tell me where it is.”
In response, his sister merely looked at him. She'd gone past telling him no and screaming at him, and now she usually just remained silent.
“TELL ME!” he shouted.
Dust fell from the ceiling, and Zevic ducked his head, looking around warily.
When he straightened back up, he saw Zhadeyn looking at him with a smile.
“You could not possibly be so happy at the prospect of all this rock coming down on you and that child of yours,” he spat.
“If it means taking you with us, so be it.”
Zevic widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. “And what about all that power you're supposed to have? Hmmm? I saw what you did to those men in the prison in Vhais. Clever trick. How'd you do it?”
> Zhadeyn looked at him, smiling and silent.
“I'm just surprised you haven't used it on us yet,” Zevic mumbled.
Zhadeyn shrugged. “Pointless, isn't it? I can't get out, and you still keep bringing me food every day. Not nearly enough, of course, but clearly I have no say in the matter. Unfortunately, I have to keep you alive for now if I want to live, too.”
“Keep me alive,” Zevic scoffed, pacing in front of her cell. “As though you have so much control over whether I live or die.”
“Let me out of here and we'll see.”
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” he asked, grabbing the bars and narrowing his eyes at her. “Let you out just so you can overtax yourself, trying to kill me? You'd probably just wind up killing that baby instead.”
Zhadeyn rested her hands on her swollen belly.
“I will do anything to protect Graeden's child,” she fumed. “But I will kill you. One way or–”
Her words choked off, and she looked down at herself in shock.
Zevic straightened up, puzzled, then saw her double over in pain.
Zhadeyn cried out, dropping to her knees, and clenched her hands into fists as she screamed.
“I wouldn't scream too loud if I were you,” Zevic sneered, backing up a few steps. “You might bring down the entire hillside before that baby comes out.”
Zhadeyn panted, glaring at him, and cried out again as she hugged herself. Growling in frustration, Zevic turned and hurried up the tunnel, not wanting to be trapped down there in case Zhadeyn's screams caused a full-blown cave-in.
He trudged all the way back through the forest, heading home, and lay in boredom for the rest of the day. The next morning, he stayed in bed, making violent use of his women when he felt like it and sleeping when he didn't. He ought to have gone to see how things stood at the prison, but he simply didn't want to.
Not to mention, he thought a day of pain, desperation, and hunger might finally break Zhadeyn so that she'd give him some answers.
* * *
ZEVIC RETURNED to the prison the next day, half expecting to find the tunnel collapsed, and only half disappointed to find it not so. Leaving the guards outside, he stormed down the tunnel, his hands in fists, a shouted tirade ready on his lips.
But when he reached Zhadeyn's cell, he lurched to a stop.
Zhadeyn stood naked in the middle of the cell, dust caked to the dried blood on her legs, her hands in fists at her sides, and a look of pure rage on her face behind the stain of dirt and tears.
Zevic glanced around nervously, and thought the prison was just a little too quiet.
“Where is the child?” he asked.
Zhadeyn leveled a look at him, and spat, “My child is dead. Born too soon. Now, you are going to die.”
Zevic laughed, but took a step back. “And how precisely do you plan on accomplishing that?”
Zhadeyn narrowed her eyes, her whole body trembling—with hunger, exhaustion, or effort, Zevic couldn't tell—and breathed heavily through her nose as she stared at him.
Zevic laughed again. “Honestly, Zhadeyn, there's not a thing that you–”
Zhadeyn roared, her voice full of rage and grief, and Zevic felt a blast of air as he was thrown across the room.
He put up his arms to protect his face from the dust, and his eyes went wide with shock when he saw the bars of the gate torn apart.
Zhadeyn walked through them just as the rock above began to crumble.
“No!” Zevic shouted, scrambling back on his hands and heels.
Zhadeyn stalked toward him, stopped a few feet away, and narrowed her eyes in concentration again. Zevic kept trying to move back, slipping on loose rocks, and stopped with a choke.
He felt Zhadeyn inside his head, but couldn't stop her. She moved into the deepest recesses of his mind, to places he didn't even know existed, and felt his body being torn apart from the inside out.
Zevic roared and choked, clutching at his throat and reaching out for something to hold onto, pain tearing through his body while rock continued to fall.
Zhadeyn started to walk away, then stopped, straightening up as she glanced over her shoulder. She looked down at him with a glare while he still tried to take a full breath, spluttering on blood that filled his lungs, and he watched as Zhadeyn calmly strode past him and walked up the tunnel.
Zevic choked, spat up blood, and tried to turn himself over, but his muscles were shredded and his coordination non-existent. He watched, helplessly, as the ceiling crumbled all around him.
Chapter 33
GRAEDEN SAT at a table in the hospital cafeteria with the people who claimed to be his family. After two months of searching, he'd still not found the key to unlocking his memories, and he was using every ounce of patience to put up with the frustration.
Thank the gods he apparently had some money in his accounts and his bills were still automatically being paid, because he hadn't even been able to go back to work, let alone access his funds. Jase had tried getting him to at least hang around the exam rooms, hoping it would trigger something, but apparently Dr. Crawford was locked away with his memories.
Surgical procedures, prescription recommendations, exam methods—none of it came to him.
“A doctor who knows nothing about the human body,” he scoffed.
“What was that?” Saira Crawford asked.
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head and pushing food around on his plate.
“Grae,” Charlie said, reaching across to him, “you need to eat.”
“I'm not hungry,” Graeden said, tossing down his fork and leaning back.
“I know you're not, but you need to eat something.”
“I just…” He threw up his hands and sighed. “Can't.”
Just outside the open double door to the cafeteria, two doctors went sprinting down the hallway.
“Good gods,” Benash Rothbur said, watching them go.
Graeden ignored it and turned back to picking at his food. They ate in silence, and he felt them sharing looks while he kept his eyes on his plate, but even though he was told chicken was his favorite, he had absolutely no desire to eat.
Across the table, he saw the old man slowly straighten, looking toward the door again. Graeden glanced over his shoulder and saw Jase walk slowly toward them.
“Hey, Grae,” Jase said, clasping his hands nervously. “There's…something you should come see.”
“Not now, Jase,” he said, waving him off.
“But Grae, we have a patient here. Someone you know.”
“I'm not interested. And besides, what good would it do?” Graeden threw down his fork again. “I don't know anyone.”
Jase took a deep breath and firmed up his shoulders. “Graeden, if you don't come with me right now, and you ever get your memory back, trust me, you'll be furious with yourself for missing this. Now, come on.”
“What is it?” Benash asked.
“It's his…uh…someone from Tanas,” Jase said, giving Graeden a pointed look before turning back to the old man. “The scanners all say the body is dead, but we're picking up just the barest hint of brain activity. It's the strangest thing.”
“And why would this matter to me?” Graeden asked.
“Grae, we were there. We studied these people, and–”
“Jase, I don't–”
“Alright, alright,” the old man said, standing and holding out his hands. “Why don't we all just go take a look and then come back here and finish lunch, yes? Besides, if the patient is Tanasian, I may be able to help.”
Jase nodded and edged toward the door. Graeden looked around at the others, saw their encouraging faces, and sighed.
“Alright,” he said, throwing down his napkin and getting up to follow them.
He strolled along behind everyone, letting them get ahead. Near the exam room, Graeden stopped and glanced out a window, watching the snow fall softly outside.
Not even the month of Faldris and it's snowing, he thought, shaking
his head.
Though it was warm inside the hospital, Graeden shivered and clutched his left arm below the elbow. He looked down at it, feeling like he was on the verge of a memory, but then shook it aside with frustration. Giving the snow one more look, Graeden turned and walked over to the exam room.
In the middle of the spacious room, the surfaces glowing with a soft, blue light, he saw a woman's naked body lying on the exam table. Even from a distance, he saw that she was utterly filthy, her skin covered in blood and dust, her hands and feet cut and scraped, her nails torn and packed with dirt. With her head turned away from him, Graeden could see all her hair matted with twigs, leaves, and grass.
Graeden blinked, took another step closer, and watched as Jase cleaned a patch of skin below her left collarbone, revealing a strange sort of scar.
He blinked and took another step just as Jase carefully turned the woman's head so she was facing straight up.
Graeden's knees hit the ground as he screamed in agony, clutching his head.
“Grae! Sweetie!”
He felt Saira Crawford's hands on him but he couldn't respond, feeling as though his entire head was about to explode.
“Grae! Jase, do something!”
Graeden roared again, squeezing his eyes shut and curling in on himself, seeing random images pass through his mind, shifting and swirling and making him dizzy while he wrestled with the pain.
And then, just as suddenly, it was over.
Graeden let out a gasping breath, still bent over with his nose almost touching the floor. He blinked several times, trying to catch his breath, and his hands hit the ground as he tried to push himself up on shaky arms.
“Grae?” Jase asked.
“Sweetie?” Saira Crawford added.
“Mom…” he gasped, reaching toward her.
“Oh, thank the gods!” his mother cried, throwing her arms around him. “Oh, gods, Charlie!”
Graeden felt his father embrace him as well, holding him between them, and when he looked up, he saw his grandfather giving him a strange look.
“Granddad?”
