by Amanda Vink
At the very base of the tree, another key hung suspended in the air. Marjorie wasn’t sure how this was accomplished—but this whole place seemed to laugh at normal behaviors. This key appeared gold as well, the top of it swirling into a leaf pattern. It was the perfect size for the box, she realized. Excited, Marjorie took the box from her rucksack and handed it to Frank. In his hands, the box looked small and delicate.
Then his gaze grew intense. His pupils dilated. He seemed very far away.
“What’s happening to him?” Hamid cried.
Fear also clutched at Marjorie’s heart. “Frank?”
He blinked back to reality and looked between the two of them. “What?”
“It was like you weren’t here,” Marjorie said.
“No, I’m fine,” he stated. He shook his head, clearing it, and continued on as if nothing had happened.
He reached for the key then—somehow managing to pluck it out of the air like a cherry hanging from the tree—and fit it inside the box’s keyhole. Instantly, gears inside started to turn. It was something to behold. It still works! It must be ancient. The box shifted and changed shape, opening like the mouth of a snake.
Marjorie heard herself gasp. She had expected something different—just a simple click, not a mechanical wonder. The inside contained a pillow of red cloth, perfectly preserved. But as the air hit it, it started to disintegrate. Marjorie peered closer. Apparently, the cloth was not the impressive part. Inside were three seeds, perfect and whole.
“Janey Mack,” Frank said. He looked at her. She looked at him. Both knew his hands held a priceless prize.
“His heart plants the truth,” she said.
Frank took one of the seeds out of the box and cupped it in his hand. Marjorie noted how small it appeared, like a grain of sand in an ocean. Bringing his palm closer to his face, Frank studied the small seed. Marjorie’s eyes swept over its curves. What are you? she wondered.
Suddenly, Frank’s palm closed around it. Marjorie was about to scold him when she realized he was shaking—no, spasming! His hand flew open, and he tumbled to the ground. Marjorie reached for him, but she wasn’t fast enough.
The seed fell—and as soon as it hit the dirt, it started to grow. The roots wrapped around Frank, starting at his hand and crawling up his arm and over his chest. His eyes grew wide, frightened. Marjorie tried to keep the roots off him, tugging and tearing, but they were much too fast, too powerful. Soon they’d covered him from head to toe.
“Frank! Frank!” she cried.
She dug in her boot to retrieve the knife and then began to cut the roots. But they grew up and over the weapon, prying it from her fingers. There was nothing she could do. She let go.
This is all your fault. If you’d never come here, none of this would’ve happened.
She sank down to the ground and grasped a screaming Hamid in her arms. Together they watched this nightmare unfold. It wasn’t long before Marjorie realized that she was screaming too. Her throat felt raw—her vocal cords were pulled so taut she thought they might snap. Tears pricked her eyes. She watched the roots rise up, covering Frank completely now, and take him away. And as suddenly as this crazy scene had begun, it was over.
All was quiet. Marjorie could only hear her sobs.
But then, just as quickly as they’d begun, the roots started to retreat from around Frank. They fell motionless to the floor, as though all the enchantment had eked out of them.
Frank emerged. First his arms, then his legs, and finally his face. He kept choking and gasping for breath. His eyes swiveled toward Marjorie, who raced to help him. “I-I feel—” was all he could manage before he started to lose his footing. This time, Marjorie caught him as he fell, and helped him sit against one of the walls.
All the while, she couldn’t stop smiling. She was so happy to see him alive. She held him tightly. He was solid under her fingers. His breathing was deep and ragged, but it slowly returned back to normal.
“What happened?” he asked eventually.
Marjorie searched for an explanation, but she had none.
Hamid said, “You were just eaten by a tree!”
Frank shook his head, trying to clear it. He looked like he wanted to say something.
“What is it?” Marjorie coaxed. She clutched his arm.
“It spoke to me,” Frank said after a moment. “The tree spoke to me. The tree spoke to me. This is—this is incredible. This is the Tree of Knowledge from the Garden of Eden. It’s all real.”
Marjorie’s mind went blank. Words couldn’t describe the feeling. It exists. It really exists? When finally she could form words, she said, “I thought the Tree of Knowledge was the one Adam and Eve ate from?”
Frank lifted himself up shakily, and Marjorie tried to support him. But he was weak, and his body weight was a lot for her. He spoke quickly now. “It’s hard to explain. The two trees are connected, almost one and the same. But the Tree of Knowledge—this tree—is clearly on Earth, which means … the Tree of Life is in Paradise. This tree has stopped producing fruit. These seeds are the last that it has to give, but their power wanes. They aren’t enough. It told me to use them to get to Paradise, to find the Tree of Life, to take its fruit and plant it anew here on Earth.”
“But why?”
“‘To renew faith,’ it said.” Frank looked at the seed in his hand. “But it said not to eat from the Tree. There are portals. It told me where to go.”
“And where is that?” asked a voice all too familiar to Marjorie’s ears. Turning toward it, her stomach dropped.
Wessaim Seif stood in the doorway, one leg positioned on a discarded root. His armed men stood waiting behind him. He lifted a hand—which Marjorie noticed was covered, like everything else, in a fine, red clay. The men stepped over the root blocking their path and into the antechamber.
“You!” Hamid cried.
Marjorie glared at Seif. After all that—now what? Clearly they were surrounded, and there was no escape unless they fought off everyone. No, we’ll all die before we can cause any damage. What should we do?
Seif shrugged stiffly and stepped aside.
From behind him appeared the last person Marjorie expected to see …
Richard Young entered the antechamber. In his hand he held a gun, and it pointed at Marjorie’s chest.
Frank tried to stand, but he couldn’t. Marjorie pushed Hamid behind her then narrowed her eyes at her cousin-in-law. “Richard,” she challenged.
“Nice to see you too, cousin,” he said.
“What are you doing here?”
“Just protecting the family interests,” Richard replied, his voice ever business-like. His tone was indulgent, as though instructing a child. “Cousin, you wouldn’t believe the work we’ve done here. Darius’s great treasure—the thing that made it possible to expand the empire as much as he did—the Tree of Life! We’re so close to finding it, and it will reveal everything—all the knowledge in the world. Imagine what we could do with that power today.
“A railroad empire,” he continued. “Just imagine it. Railroads are opening up the Near East, just like they did in the United States in the last century. This time, it’s the Youngs and the Harts that will be on top of it. We’ll control everything—imports, exports, the oil trade, tourism. With the Tree of Life, we’ll be unstoppable. Knowledge is power, cousin. We can wipe all our enemies off the map. We’ll be unstoppable.”
“You’ve killed and murdered—all for power? All for money?” She spat the words at him.
“Come now. Don’t be naive. In America, the rich families have murdered and bought their way into power since the beginning. I worked the factories as a child, and I saw it firsthand. I watched my father die a slow and terrible death from toxic exposure, all because he didn’t have money. I promised myself it wouldn’t be me. I worked my way up from the bottom, just like all the great men. Now I’ve made a small fortune in America, but that’s not enough. I need the Tree to get me to true greatness. Think of the
possibilities, cousin! And you could be part of it. Imagine. With your resources, your eye for detail and your photography, together we could create an empire of our own. What do you say?”
“My father. You made this offer to him?” Marjorie asked.
A look of remorse quickly passed over Richard’s features. “Your father didn’t understand, Marjorie. He didn’t see the big picture. I asked Mr. Seif to speak to him, but he couldn’t be persuaded.”
Marjorie’s eyes widened. Seif stood next to Richard, his back straight and unyielding. He didn’t look away from her. Instead, his eyes were like stones. You really did kill my father, she thought. Hot hatred licked her insides. Her blood boiled, and her heart pounded. If it had not been for the gun between them, she would’ve leapt at him.
Richard continued. “Let’s keep the past in the past. I know you see it, Marjorie. So many good things can come out of us working together. We can open up the Near East to invention and industry. In the process, we can make a boatload of money.”
Next to Marjorie, Hamid stiffened. Marjorie felt his anger too, which he didn’t contain. He cried, “We don’t need you! We’ve been studying math and science for many years!”
Marjorie put her body in front of his. Even though he was just a child, she wasn’t sure if Richard would shoot or not. Richard ignored the boy, turning back to Marjorie.
“You’ve come a long way, cousin. The antechamber inside Darius’s tomb, this underground chamber—that was you.”
“And my friends,” Marjorie added.
Richard acted as though he hadn’t heard her, continuing, “Anyone smart enough to get this far can see a good thing when it falls in their lap. Join us.”
Marjorie knew she could never join the man who had been responsible for ordering her father’s death. Then she realized something else—he had been behind Samuel’s injury, not Dr. Baxter.
“And Sam?” Marjorie asked. “You hurt him too.”
“You’re missing the point,” he said. His voice sounded flustered, begging her to take what he offered. “A single person doesn’t matter in the scheme of things, Marjorie, but our family names will survive. Just like Darius and his line, we’ll go down in the history of the world.”
Our family name. A sickening feeling crawled up Marjorie’s spine. Mary only got sick after she got involved with you. An illness no doctor can figure out… Suddenly she remembered the special tea blend that came across the ocean, paid for at Richard’s expense. The special doctor he had hired to care for her.
“What about Mary?” Marjorie asked.
Richard must’ve seen the realization as it passed over Marjorie, for he suddenly flew into a rage. “She wouldn’t listen to reason! She didn’t want to invest in the Near East. The Vales have plenty of money for the venture, but she said it was too far from Gracewood and New York.”
“Y-you poisoned her?” Marjorie asked. She didn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, and yet nothing else made sense. “You risked your child’s life.”
“Life tests everyone, and only the strong survive!” Richard argued. “If he lives, he will be a king of men.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“There will be others,” Richard replied with a shrug. His voice took a dark turn, terrifying and sickening Marjorie. Her eyes narrowed and she felt sick to her stomach. Hatred, like poison, slithered up her veins to her heart. “You’re a monster,” she said.
Richard’s expression became eerily calm. “Just like your father. I see I can’t reason with you,” he said. “I’m afraid then this is goodbye.”
“You’ll never get away with it.”
“Oh, I already have,” Richard bellowed, “thanks to you.”
Marjorie realized he was right. Had she not gotten involved, had she not followed her father’s clues, had she not looked for the Tree of Life herself, perhaps he never would’ve gotten this far at all. I’ve messed everything up.
Richard gestured with his free hand, and the soldiers moved in. “Leave her,” he ordered, “and take the others. We’ll need Mr. Ryan to tell us where we should go, and the boy is key to the ritual.” Marjorie noticed his smile—a wicked and slanted crescent moon.
Seif took a step forward, but stopped. “Sir?” Marjorie watched a kaleidoscope of emotions flash across his features. Was that concern she saw? The soldiers paused, looking to Seif for their orders.
Richard glared at the man. “Do it!” he ordered. The soldiers, spooked, didn’t wait for Seif’s confirmation.
“Oi!” Frank yelled as Richard’s men grabbed him. He struggled against them, but it was useless—he was too weak to fight back. Marjorie watched them pull him away.
Meanwhile, another man grabbed Hamid, picking him up without challenge, despite the boy’s frantic kicks and deafening screams. Marjorie’s heart broke for them all. Would she ever see them again?
Seif paused only a millisecond, and then he too followed the soldiers out of the entrance to the room. She listened to the sound of them dwindle into nothing.
She turned her attention to Richard, who alone remained with her in the chamber. The smile, still present, sent shivers rushing over her. “Goodbye, old gal,” he said.
Then he squeezed the trigger of his gun.
A loud shot rang out, but Marjorie didn’t feel anything. Or maybe she did. Her body felt weightless, far away. Then it hit her—a pain that burned and bit. She tried not to scream. Not supposed to happen, her brain kept repeating.
She looked down. Nothing. But then blood began to pool from her stomach. It drenched her shirt and her pants. She clutched at it, trying somehow to stop the flow. The pain overwhelmed her, and she dropped to her knees, but even that was too much to take. The ground. That seemed a much firmer place to die. The ground became a solid plane coming up to meet her. She didn’t feel herself hit it.
Her eyes flew to Richard, who watched her struggle without a measure of empathy on his features. He stepped forward, wrenching the map in its container off her arm. “Just in case,” he said, his voice singsong.
Marjorie tried to find the strength to fight him, but she couldn’t.
Instead, she allowed herself to dive into the river of black that reached for her. Then all grew quiet.
Chapter Twenty-Two
At first, everything was white. But then, images began to appear as Marjorie’s eyes focused again. She gasped. The room was all too familiar to her.
Her father’s study was just as she left it. The large wooden desk was cleared of papers, however, and the light shining through the curtains didn’t look quite right. Too bright, it resembled a spotlight shining through the open window. A palm frond waved in greeting from the other side of the room. She couldn’t remember if it should be there or not. Even more shocking, Marjorie realized she wasn’t alone.
A man sat at the desk, turned away from her. He wore a comfortable robe and worn slippers, a hole in the toe of one of them. A hot mug steamed next to him on the desk, as though it had just been placed there.
He turned to greet her, and her eyes glistened with tears so that she could barely see him. She would’ve recognized that smile anywhere.
“Look at you,” Father said. His eyes crinkled with delight, and he reached out a hand. He patted her on the knee, as he used to do when she was a child. “All grown up. Out on an adventure too.”
I’m alive! she thought.
At that moment, Marjorie remembered what had happened to her. She touched her body, her stomach where she knew she had been shot. There were no signs of it here, but she also had a strange feeling in her stomach, as though she had eaten something she shouldn’t have.
“I think I might be dying,” she said. Her voice sounded far away, like it belonged to someone else.
She sank down into a kneel and rested her head on the end of the desk. The corner of it was hard, sturdy, real. She rotated her head at an angle, and the corner of it almost hurt. How was this possible? Exhaustion overtook her, and she let the quest
ion drift away. It didn’t matter.
Her father shrugged, seemingly unaffected by her realization. “It happens to everyone.”
They stayed still for a few moments, and Marjorie realized he was studying something on his desk. She stood up just enough to see what it was. Sprawled across the wood was a map of a place she didn’t recognize. Lines radiated out from its center—whatever was in the middle seemed very important, but he had only started drawing it.
“I’m not very good at it,” she said, finally. “This whole adventuring business, that is.”
He leaned forward, put his arm on the desk, and rested his chin upon his hand. “Oh, nonsense,” he replied, his voice lighthearted but firm.
She tried to argue, saying, “I’ve led my friends right into danger. I can’t protect the family from Richard. I—”
“Marjorie,” her father cut in. His voice felt like a balm, so she stopped arguing. “Let’s not think about that right now. I want to talk to you about something important. What do you believe in?”
She blinked. “How is this relevant?”
He paused, staring at her as patiently as he had a thousand times in life, waiting for her to figure out a riddle or a formula. She wondered if time felt like anything when you were dead. Maybe you had all the time in the world.
Finally, she said, “Seeing is believing.” It was her standard answer when talking about religion, truth, morality.
“Belief is one of the most important things in the world,” he said. “From it, everything extends outward.” He turned to the map, indicating the lines moving outward.
“I don’t know what I believe,” Marjorie said.
“Ask a different question,” he instructed. “Do you believe people are genuinely good?”
She thought of Richard—of all the things the man had done to her family. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Do you believe you try to do what’s right?”
“I try to,” she answered, doubt clouding her tone.
An onrush of pain took over then. She gripped her side, and with a start she realized there was blood on her hands. Her stomach was bleeding again.
