Those wide trusting eyes brim with awe. “Can I see it?”
“No!”
He jumps away, startled. Again, I hear the violence in my voice, and my chest clouds with guilt. It was an innocent question. He doesn’t understand my burdens. How could he?
The box strains to freed, claws at my mind. I push it away.
We trudge on.
Jordan’s head droops low; he keeps back and away from me. I try to ignore the prickling in my hand, the hand he would be holding right now if only I’d kept the beast inside me in check.
It wasn’t fair. If I had told him, he would have listened. I know he would. He’s listened to all the rest, and he’s still here.
And deep down I know, it’s not just the box. It’s something else in me aching to get free. Something I’m desperate to let out and too scared to release. Something that craves what Jordan feeds me. To not bear this alone anymore. Something to fill my emptiness.
I stop walking.
“Alright.”
“Really?” Jordan skips to my side with a bright yelp, his whole body reenergized.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the box, hold it tight in my fist, the corners digging into my palm. Up by my shoulders, where he could never reach. Thorny vines twist within me, pierce me all over from the inside.
I will show him. But he has to understand first.
“You cannot touch it. Not even by accident. I will kill you. I will not be able to stop myself. Do you understand?”
He nods, a slow solemn nod, his eyes round and serious. He folds his hands behind his back. “I swear.”
I lower my closed fist to his eye level and slowly curl my fingers back. The gold paint sparkles in the sunlight. Jordan gasps with wonder. He leans in his face for a closer look.
My whole hand shakes with unease.
Then it all starts tumbling out of me, all the things I never say.
“You’re right, about not seeing me in Epoh. I hid there. I’ve killed, I don’t know how many, because of this box. It makes me. I’m bound to it, I have no control. I tried to get away from them. But they followed me. They always follow me.”
The shaking has spread to my shoulders. I feel so vulnerable, so naked, so empty the ground could swallow me up.
Jordan frowns. “Who follows you?”
“The Hunters. They keep coming. For the box. And I keep killing them and I can’t bear it.” A dry sob chokes my voice. “There’s something in me, something dark. Something that likes it. If I don’t break free of this, I’m afraid it will take over.”
Jordan isn’t looking at the box anymore. He’s watching me. His eyes well over with feeling—anger? Fear? Sadness?
My shoulders feel light, floating, as if a great physical burden were taken from me. I want more, I want to unload everything, drop it all and forget it in the wasteland, lift Jordan close and pour it all into his ear.
No, no, no, enough. I have no right to put such risk and burden on this child, just for my own relief. I snap the box away. Secure it back deep in my cloak pocket, fasten it away from the world, from Jordan. Neither of us says anything. I turn and keep on walking into the setting sun.
Jordan stands a moment longer, staring, and then trails behind me.
He eats, he does his drills, and soon he is in my arms for the night.
The noxious doubts and questions creep back again with the darkness. But this time I’m ready to fend them off. There’s no telling what a desperate soul in the Hush might say, might do. I have no reason to believe Ceil’s cryptic claims. Kythiel and I made a deal. It’s simple. It’s clean. What’s there to be hidden?
Besides, he’s an angel. He could not deceive me even if he wanted to.
Chapter 11
OVER THE NIGHT, my stirring thoughts give way to salty warmth that fills the air.
Soft earth between my toes, the breath of the sea skimming over a sandy bluff, it wraps around me in a friendly embrace.
The ground here is softer. I crouch, shift Jordan in my arms so I can reach down, and roll a handful in my palm. A silky, powdery dirt rolled with large grains. Sand. It sifts through my fingers with a soft slither of friction. Cool pebbles bounce and roll as they hit the ground. So unlike the rough broken pavement of Epoh. As it falls, it releases its smell into the air: a rich dusty cloud of earthy musk. I breathe it in deep.
Ahead, an old well creaks as a dangling bucket swings in the breeze.
And then, dancing on the turns of the wind, I hear laughter.
I stand in a flash, soil still enclosed in my fist.
It’s not possible.
Is it?
I step up the bluff to investigate. When I reach the peak, I can hardly believe what I see. A small grouping of humble houses, arranged around an open center. Quiet. Still. They are not many, not like the thousands of Epoh. But more than I imagined it possible to escape. How did they survive out here? How did they find each other?
What else inside Epoh’s walls was a lie?
A man passes through the town’s middle, shoos two small children through the door of one of the small shacks. Another peel of laughs, soft as chiming bells, bounce out from one of them as they duck inside. The man scans the horizon, and then walks out toward the shore.
I duck back behind the bluff, dribble the rest of the soil from my hand, shift Jordan in my arms. This is no place to stop.
The wide flat vastness of the wasteland spreads until it fills everything. I pull my cloak around me tight and cling to it. Now, with a whole community right over the bluff, I remember my aloneness.
Because I know immediately this is where Jordan belongs. With the humans.
But I can’t let him go, not yet. I place him slowly, softly onto the ground and settle into the side of the bluff, just high enough to peer over it. I’ve seen too many times what men are capable of in broken times like these. Before I can leave Jordan here, I must to be sure he will be safe among them. Angel. I promised.
Inside the village, more of the humans are coming out to its center, still stretching, yawning, and rubbing sleep away. A young woman and boy catch my eye as they come out. They’re a matching pair with richly tanned skin, the same tousled brown locks. The woman reaches down and squeezes the boy’s shoulders lovingly, then roughs up his hair. He squirms away laughing, looks back and sticks out his tongue at her before running down to the shore to join some other children. She smiles and watches him go, beauty and peace radiating from her.
I can see Miriam being just the same, if she had been a place like this, and not under Epoh’s shadow. Is this where she meant to lead him? How could she have known it would be here?
The woman turns and joins a group of the villagers lining up around large pots with hot coals glowing beneath them. Others begin to line up, each holding a bowl. They greet each other with cheerful calls, outstretched hands. At the front of the line, the pot-tenders scoop something into each person’s bowl in turn. Buckets of water are lugged out from behind the huts and passed around. They disperse throughout the open center, forming small, lively groups as they consume what they’ve been given.
The sea breeze blows away my fear. All will be well for Jordan here. And now I must let him go. Before I can’t bear to anymore.
I do not wake him for goodbyes. There is no point.
I hold his sleeping body close, climb back to the top of the bluff and over. I creep up to the closest hut and let him go, placing him on the ground against the hut’s wall. I brush the wild red locks from his closed eyes. I stand there watching him sleep, unwilling to move on.
But the village is bustling and I can’t afford to stay and be discovered. I turn to leave, but his small hand flies out and grabs my wrist. I turn back to wide eyes and trembling lips.
“Where are you going?” he pleads. Sleep is still heavy across his face.
I press my finger to his lips to quiet him.
“You can’t come with me any further,” I whisper. “You’re staying here. With other p
eople.”
He shakes his head repeatedly as I pry his fingers off my arm. When I am free, he lurches forward and wraps his arms around me. “You’re coming back, right?”
I hope so.
“I’ll come back.”
If I do, I’ll have a soul, and everything will be different.
My throat stiffens and I can’t say anything more. I place one hand on top of the bright red hair brushing against my neck.
“Hands up.”
The voice comes from behind me, sharp and commanding. My body snaps into full alert, ready to fight. I let go of him and hold my hands up by my head as I turn around, trying to stay between the voice and Jordan as much as I can.
The man is large, muscles thick and bulging. He stands just out of reach, wielding a spear. He should never have been able to sneak up on me. I’ve gotten too comfortable in the wasteland’s isolation.
“Who are you?” he asks. “Do you have the key?”
“No one,” I tell him. “But this boy, he needs—”
“Do you have the key!” he yells.
A key? Key for what? “Listen,” I plead. “This boy needs—”
But Jordan wriggles past me. “Marcus 30:16!”
The man blinks, his stance wavers.
I pull Jordan back in to me. What is he doing?
“Marcus 30:16! ‘And all who seek shelter shall be welcomed, and the Three shall never turn them away.’” His eyes are wide and dilated.
The man clenches his spear tighter. His expression grows dark with suspicion.
“How do you know that?” he demands. “Who sent you?”
More of them are coming, men and women bearing shields and swords, forming a circle around us, backing us against the hut. My jaw tightens with tension, my hands ball into fists. The rage bubbles under my skin, ready for a fight. I’ll kill every last one of them if I have to. But don’t make me, don’t make me, don’t make me.
“I asked you a question,” the man says sharply to Jordan. “How do you know that?”
He still holds the spear tight in his fist, its point tilted Jordan’ way.
I step between them, ignoring the spear’s blade just inches away.
“Leave him alone!” I growl. A hot urge to smash, to hit, to get out of this now, no matter what, rushes over me.
Jordan’s voice reaches around me. “My mother. She told us.”
How can he be so calm?
“She said it was the key to the new world. But I didn’t know what she meant.”
The man steps closer. I shuffle to stay between them.
“Who gave it to her?” he demands. “No one has come to us with the key in over ten years.”
“I don’t know,” Jordan responds. “She never explained. She never said what was out here.”
A gentler voice calls out from the collecting group from the village. “And where is your mother now?”
It’s the woman—the one with the dark hair. The one that is so like Miriam.
Jordan glances toward her, something flickering over his face, and then drops his gaze to his feet. “She’s gone. It was many years ago.”
The woman walks past the man, past me, and kneels down next to Jordan. “Why have you come to us?”
“They found out we still worshipped. My sister said she had a plan. She said we needed go West,” he responds.
“And where is your sister?” The woman’s voice is calm and still like the breeze.
“They … they got her when we were escaping.” His voice quivers as he says it. The woman reaches out and caresses his cheek, and then stands back up and faces me.
“And who are you?” she asks.
“I am nothing,” I mumble, but Jordan is talking over me before I can finish. “He helped me escape. He fought the Silencers to protect us. I wouldn’t have made it here without him.”
The woman nods. Then she turns back to the people from the village, who are murmuring quietly to each other and giving us cautious glances.
“They have the key,” the woman announces. “We haven’t had anyone come to us with the key for many years, but the rules are the same. We swore safety for all who came to us with the key.”
The others nod. The spears drop.
I force my fists open and stretch out my fingers.
“Food,” the woman commands. “And water.” One of the others nods and turns into the town. Another heads back where we came from, toward a small rounded structure behind the town—a well.
“Come with me,” the woman smiles. She turns to lead him into the village. “You must be exhausted.”
And just like that, the tension disintegrates. The man relaxes his stance and steps away. The people disperse back into the village. The tension in my arms releases.
Yes, he will be safe here.
A bowl is pushed into my hands. The woman motions back to me to follow her. Jordan grins.
Me? Come into the village? No. This wasn’t the plan. My heels dig into the sand. A knot twists in my gut. I can’t.
The sea breeze brushes around me with soothing salty air, tells me all will be well. But this is just what I’ve avoided for so many ages.
The woman watches me, waiting. So does the guard and some of the others. They may be welcoming us, but they’re still suspicious.
I follow. For Jordan.
If I don’t eat too, I’ll give myself away.
I shove a spoonful into my mouth. It tastes lumpy and thick, the same flat way all food tastes for me. But I force down every last grain. I even take some water.
“More?” the woman offers. Jordan takes it eagerly. I shake my head. It’s not until Jordan’s third bowl that they start talking to us.
The woman sits in front of us on the sand.
“What happened in Epoh?” she presses. “What brought you here?”
Jordan launches into story, firing out fast words and waving his arms between heaping spoonfuls. He starts with the market, the game, the Silencer, Miriam’s slip. How we met up trying to get out, and our walk through the wasteland. He doesn’t tell them what he knows about me.
The woman listens intently. As he talks, several others come closer to listen, surrounding us from all sides. My stomach twists with fullness from the food, and unease from their closeness. Why do they come so near? The woman ignores them and listens patiently, lets Jordan tell it all without interruption. When he is finished, she leans toward him with a comforting smile.
“My name is Lena,” she says. “And this village is Haven. As far as we’ve found, we’re the only free people left since the Second Realm War. And we’ve looked. A lot.”
“Of course you are. There’s nothing left. There’s just Epoh,” Jordan responds.
“Oh no,” Lena says. “They want you to think that. All of them do. But there’s many other cities still out there among the destruction. Most are much like Epoh. Some are worse.”
Other cities? Out in the wasteland? All this time since the Second Realm War, and still they each live apart, in isolation from each other?
Jordan tilts his head, busy thought reflected in his eyes. “Do they know about each other?”
“We believe each might know of a few of the others. But we can’t know for sure. We can’t even know if we know of them all.”
“But why would they lie? Why would they tell us we’re alone?” Jordan asks.
“Ah,” she responds. “Don’t underestimate the fire a single spark of hope can start. You got out. More might try too, if they believed there was anything to go to. Leaders like Zevach guard their power zealously.”
&
nbsp; The young boy she was with earlier comes to her side, hands Lena two large blankets. “Thank you, Avi.” She stands up.
“Soon we will build another hut for you. For now, you’ll be on the floor of others’ huts.”
Huts? With the others? My chest twinges where the box presses against it. I bolt to my feet. “I have to go.”
“Go?” Lena exclaims. “Where is there to go?”
I bite my lip. I have no way to explain.
“I—I didn’t leave Epoh to come here. I’m looking for something. Someone.”
Lena’s smile fades. “Whoever it is, the chances of finding them are little to none, if they’re still alive at all. There’s nothing out there. You’ve seen it, what it’s like.”
Eyes are on me from all sides. A thudding rises in the back of my head. There’s no way to explain it… Kythiel, the box, the beast lurking inside me. I stand with no words, shaking my head slowly side to side, again and again.
“At least stay a few days,” she coaxes. “Regain your strength.”
I shake my head harder. But then a small familiar warmth, Jordan’s hand, slips into my own. He gives my hand a soft squeeze, a quiet plea not to leave him just yet.
“Okay.”
But even as I say it, every particle in me cringes against it. My hand lets go of Jordan and drifts toward my chest, rests uneasily over the box.
He skips over to the boy who brought over the blankets, now playing with some of the other children. “Hey. Avi, right? I’m Jordan.”
Soon it is as if Jordan has always been among them.
Chapter 12
WE SPEND THE rest of the day recovering and watching. They set us up next to a hut with more food and water. When they are all done with breakfast, the bowls are piled into the pots. The children drag them to the sea, scrub and rinse each one, splashing and laughing as they work. The rest arrange themselves on the ground, facing toward the sea. When the children are back, one man stands and leads them in the old daily rites and prayers of each of the Gods. They meditate in peaceful silence.
There is no fear here.
Then they rise, fresh-faced and relaxed. The religious leader steps down from the front and joins the people now. Another man steps forward, burly and brusque—a warrior.