
# Dark Fall

### K. D. Knight

Copyright 2015 by K.D.Knight Publishing.  All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,

mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

ISBN: 978-0-9917752

Printed in Canada

## **~Jane~**

### Chapter One:  Everything Is Not Irie

Although this is my first time on a plane, it's not my first time moving. I'm well accustomed to moving. In fact, this will be my sixth or seventh time in the last fourteen years. Usually, with just a moment's notice my mother would frantically pack our meager belongings into our minivan and speed across the province in search of a new "home."

On one particular night, when I was about ten years old, my mother, Ruthlyn, roused me out of bed in the middle of the night. In my half-conscious state I could see that she was distressed. Her hands trembled as she shoved clothing into an overnight bag. She ran frantically from room to room as she barked at me to get my things.

"We have to leave now!" she shouted from the other room. "Grab your things. Don't leave anything personal behind. Don't leave anything that can be traced."

I looked around the room. I didn't have much. I had a few items of clothing and a book or two. None of those things mattered. The only possession I cared about was my necklace with a pendant in the shape of an ocean wave. It was my gran's necklace. She gave it to my mother when we first left the island when I was two. My mother later passed it to me. No matter how many times we moved, or what obscure town we moved to, as long as I had my gran's necklace I somehow felt okay.

I emerged from the room with my backpack in hand. She was waiting by the door.

"Maybe we should set the place on fire. Then we'd be sure there's nothing left behind to trace," I said in a cold, flat tone.

My mother stood upright. "Don't get smart with me. You have no idea what's going on here."  Her voice began to tremble. "You have no idea what I've sacrificed for you. You think I want to skip town like a thief in the night?"

"Then why do you do it?" My question was sincere.

But her silence was the only answer I received. We rode all the way to the next town without exchanging a word.

My mother finally settled down when I turned thirteen and we have stayed in the same home for the past three years. I attended the same school, saw the same people, and stared at the same four walls, night after night. Those were the golden years, and I welcomed them gladly after spending years roaming like a nomad.

Two months ago my mother received a call from the Kingston Public Hospital in Jamaica inviting her to join their team as a registered nurse. Apparently, there had been a dramatic increase in trauma cases over the last year. Their nurses were drowning in bodies, literally. They offered her double the amount she was making in her current position at the nursing home here in Canada. She glowed when she spoke of her new title—Ruthlyn Miller, Nurse Specialist in the Trauma Unit. I've never seen her so happy. But as I expected, she turned down the offer.  Shockingly, a few days later Darlene Wisdom, my mother's younger sister who still lived on the island, somehow managed to change my mother's mind. I'm not sure why, but my mother agreed to accept the position. There was only one condition. She would complete her contract with her current patient. "This woman has been good to me," she said about the elderly woman. This gave us about six months.

Two weeks after that, another miracle happened. Aunt Darlene convinced my mother to let me travel alone to Jamaica while my mother completed her contract. I would live with her and her son, Kevin, until my mother was able to join us. I can't imagine what she could have told my paranoid, overprotective mother to get her to agree.

Knowing my mother's knee-jerk reactions, I tried not to get too excited. At any moment, she could change her mind and flush my hopes down the toilet. It didn't take much. It could be as small as a suspicious phone call or an odd look from the stock boy at the supermarket to send us off and running.  It's happened.

Despite the nagging feeling that this new freedom was too good to be true, I found myself smiling.  I'd be away from my mother for six months. This was the perfect opportunity to live a normal paranoia-free, teenage life.

I spent every spare minute on the internet googling Jamaica. I researched the people, the climate, the geography, you name it. I wanted to know it all. I found out that their motto 'Out of many, one people' summed up the Jamaican cultural composition. There were people on the island who were of African descent, German, Chinese, Lebanese, Syrian, Indian, and even Jewish.

The people speak a language called patois, which according to the blogs can sound like anything from perfect English to something incomprehensible. To me, patois sounded as foreign as Turkish. This is what scared me the most. My mother, although born and raised Jamaican, made it a point to speak perfect English at all times. I heard her speak patois only once, and it was by accident.  I happened to have walked into the room one day as she was talking to her sister on the phone. She's never made that mistake again.

As my move date approached, I found myself paying close attention to the island's tourism commercials, which featured middle-aged couples playing golf and palm trees blowing in the distance. My mother was quick to tell me that living in Jamaica was not going to be anything like a vacation. The native islanders were not going to be hanging around the beach chanting "Irie" and "Yah mon" while sipping on tropical drinks. From then on I kept my smiling to a minimum.

Up to the moment I stood in the line for Gate 7 at Pearson Airport, I feared that my mother was going to drag me back to the house. But she didn't. She gave me a long, lingering hug, wiped the tears from her eyes, gave me a few words of caution then said, "Goodbye."

Now on the plane and in the air, the flight has been rough. I have been gripping the seat so tightly that my knuckles have turned white and my fingers numb. This is my first time on an airplane and it hasn't been a good experience. After the narrow charter airplane plunged for the third time in the last twenty minutes, I felt the child-sized portion of scrambled eggs they served for breakfast threatens to erupt from my stomach.

"We are experiencing a bit of turbulence due to extreme weather conditions over South Carolina," the pilot announced calmly. "The weather should clear up as we get closer to our destination."

I closed my eyes and held my breath as the plane dipped to the right.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" a pleasant voice addressed me.

I opened one eye to see a flight attendant standing above me. There was a slight crease between her brows that most likely meant that she had been standing there longer than she would have liked.

"Yes. I'll have some orange juice," I answered.

My mother's voice was already echoing in my ears. This morning at the airport, just before I walked through the passengers only door heading towards Gate 7, she held me tightly and whispered, "You have to be on alert at all times. You can't afford to be daydreaming. There are certain places that you can't afford to wander into while your mind is off in the clouds."

I'm not off to a good start.

I sipped my juice and stared out the window. I looked anxiously beyond the plane's wings to the dark clouds that soiled the southern sky.

"Uh, this is your captain speaking. The time is now 1:25 PM. We will be arriving at Kingston's Norman Manley International Airport in the next few moments. The weather is clear and sunny with a temperature of 81 degrees Fahrenheit. Please fasten your seat belts as we begin our descent."

My heart began to race as the plane began its steady decline. I felt excited. This was my chance to live a normal teenage life. No more moving. No more counting the cracks in my four walls every night. I'll go to a normal school, meet normal students, maybe go out on a weekend, and simply do the things that I've seen other sixteen-year-old girls doing.

Yet, despite the excitement, I also felt nervous. My mother has pumped me full of her worries about strangers and unknown places.  A part of me has always been scared that she might be right.

I finally opened my eyes again when I heard the clamor of people unbuckling their seat belts and pulling their hand luggage from the overhead compartments. Grabbing my only piece of luggage—my backpack—I walked off the plane behind the crowd. The first thing I encountered was the island's fragrance. The air smelled like a sweet combination of flowers, the ocean, and asphalt. Beyond the ocean are green, rolling hills dotted by white housetops. I now understood why this island is a tourist favourite.

As I made my way through the long line at customs, I noticed a group of tourists pacing in the line beside me. They are wearing matching Hawaiian tops and wide-brimmed straw hats, which looked out of place amidst the sea of jeans and t-shirts everyone else wore, but they seemed to be right at home as they laughed with the customs officer. I gave myself a quick once over—blue jeans, plain white t-shirt, my dark curly hair pulled back into my usual high ponytail. I blended in with the crowd, but I couldn't help my feeling of discomfort.  I didn't know where to walk or what to say.  Everything felt unnatural.

After fumbling through the custom officer's questions, I followed the tourists out of the airport to the passenger pick-up. The passenger pick-up zone is a long, narrow canopy-covered strip with luggage and people spilling over onto the street. I shuffled through the dense crowd and found a small spot at the end. I pulled out the photo of my mother's sister, Darlene; the picture was taken about years ago. In it her warm, hazel eyes shimmered as she proudly held her young son, Kevin. According to my mother, Aunt Darlene had a face that never changed, so spotting her should not be that difficult.

"Hello, Miss!" I heard a deep voice call in the strong island accent. "Hello!"

I turned curiously and saw a middle-aged man leaning casually against a white unbranded car. He had a round, stiff belly that extended well beyond his body.

"You need a taxi?" he asked, his firm, round belly retracting as he spoke.

"No. I'm fine. Thank you," I replied.

"Just come," he said, walking towards me. My heart beat leapt to my throat as the round-bellied stranger came close. He reached out to grab my elbow, "Mi wih gih you a good rate."

"I'm sorry I don't understand patois" I jerked my arm from his grip.

He reached for my arm again and my heart began to thunder. I stumbled back into a stack of luggage, sending the neatly piled items crashing to the ground. The owner of the luggage, a flat-faced woman, grumbled. I apologized for the accident and offered to help re-stack her things. I was relieved when she declined since the round-bellied stranger had inched even closer.

The ruckus caught the attention of a security patrol officer who took one look at the round-bellied taxi driver and abruptly ordered him to leave to premises. The round-bellied man smiled brightly, his brown eyes shining red in the sunlight, and left without argument.

Just then a woman appeared beside the security officer. It took a second but I recognized her from the picture.

"Aunty Darlene," I stepped forward, smiling.

She pulled me close, giving me the tightest hug I have ever received.

"Are you okay?"  She asked, pulling me away from the officer. She eyed him suspiciously as he spoke with the flat-faced woman.

"I'm fine."

"I saw that big-belly man talking to you and I thought..." She let her voice drop then took a deep breath and smiled brightly.  "Look at you, girl," she squealed. "My goodness, you grow up to be a nice, young miss." She wrapped her arm around mine and turned to walk me toward the parking lot.

She stepped back, watching me carefully, as if inspecting me for wounds. "Call me 'Aunt Dar.' Darlene makes me sound so old."

"You are old," a teenage boy quipped as we approached the car. He pushed himself off of his comfortable spot on the trunk and began to straighten his clothes.

"Watch yourself," Aunt Dar warned him in a semi-playful tone.

"This mouthy boy is my son, Kevin," she gestured to the tall, athletically built young man as he ushered me toward the rear passenger seat.

"Kevin will be going away to college in a few weeks," Aunt Dar rubbed his shoulder with pride as she passed him. "My son's going to be an accountant."

"Congratulations." I said as I slid into the back seat of the car.

"Hopefully when I'm finished I could get an internship down by Port Royal, in the head office," he said, looking back at me through the rear view mirror.

Aunt Dar jabbed Kevin hard in the thigh. He flashed her a what-did-I-say-wrong glance, which she didn't appear to buy for one second. She continued to scold Kevin with her eyes for the remainder of the ride through the city. I leaned back against the seat and smiled as I watched the dusk settle over the busy streets of Kingston.

By the time we arrived at Aunt Dar's house, a full moon was out and the pitch-black sky was filled with stars. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. It's hard to believe that this is the same sky that appeared over my apartment back home.

The exterior of Aunt Dar's home was not the speckled red brick I'd grown up seeing. Instead, the house had a smooth, seamless finish as if it were carved out of one big piece of stone. As soon as I entered, my eyes were pulled up to the high vaulted ceiling.

"Welcome home," Aunt Dar said, rubbing my back.

Home. That word made me smile. I've never called anywhere I've lived 'home' before.

"It's mango season," she said, dropping her bag and keys on a side table. "I've got a few trees in the back if you're interested." She led me through the living room and out to the backyard where she pointed to a string of trees nestled in the corner.

"Sure. I love mangos."

"Good. I'll get Kevin to pick one for you while we sit and catch up."

We sat on the veranda under the night sky. Aunt Dar brought out a pitcher of lemonade and poured me a generous glass. I sipped slowly as I watched Kevin disappear into the dark shadow under the mango tree.

"How is my big sister doing? She still miserable as usual?" She asked before taking a long sip.

"She's happier now with the nursing thing at the hospital in Kingston."

"It's about time you two came back home. This is where you belong Jane."

I rubbed the frost off the outer layer of the glass. "Aunt Dar, why did my mother leave Jamaica?"

She let out a laboured sigh. "She never told you?"

"She told me she left for better opportunities. But it doesn't make sense for someone who wants a better opportunity to hop and skip across the country. We had to start over each time we moved." I finished my lemonade and looked up at Aunt Dar whose gaze was fixed on my face. "Tell me the truth, I can handle it."

"I won't lie to you," she said. "I want us to have an honest relationship where we can trust each other." She looked over to Kevin who was still hidden in the mango tree's foliage. "When you were two and living here in Jamaica, you were hurt in a home invasion. I won't go into too much detail, but they didn't get what they came for. Your mother felt that it was too dangerous to keep you here."

"So she moved to Canada?"

"Yes."

"I don't understand why she couldn't tell me that," I said watching the ice circle the bottom of my glass. "You know, I was convinced she was wanted for murder and she was running from the law."

Aunt Dar laughed heartily then fell into silence. She reached out and touched my hand, "I'm sure you're going to miss your friends while you're here. I have a good long distance plan; you can call them anytime you want. Talk as long as you like."

"I've got no one to call."

"No friends? What about that boy your mother mentioned once. Kumar, I think his name was."

"Kumar Richardson." I wasn't surprised that Aunt Dar heard about him. My mother had an eye on everything I did.

Kumar was the closest thing I had to a friend. He was the first person I met when we finally settled.   He lived two streets down from the apartment building where my mother and I lived. I used to go to the local park across from the building, sit on the swing and let my mind wander to anywhere other than where I was. The kids in the neighbourhood didn't make fun of me or tell stories about me. They simply acted as if I wasn't there, except for Kumar. He went out of his way to talk to me. My mother had pumped me so full of paranoia that I was scared to talk to anyone. But eventually, he won me over with his persistence.

After that, we spent every day together playing up and down our street. For the next year, we were inseparable. But everything changed when we got to high school. By the time Kumar turned fifteen, he had grown to over six feet tall and became the captain of the junior basketball team. Suddenly, he became the guy all the popular girls drooled over and the one all the guys wanted to be friends with. He changed. He became someone I didn't know. He was never home when I went to visit and if I did get him on the phone, he'd make up some excuse about having to go. Eventually, I stopped calling.

I was tough enough to get over that, just as I had gotten over many other things in my life. But I couldn't help wondering, what was the point of going through all the trouble to be my friend just to suddenly disappear in the end?

"We stopped being friends a long time ago."

Aunt Dar looked at me and sighed deeply. She pitied me. I could see it in the downward curl of her lip. "Jane, are you hungry?" She asked finally.

"A bit."

"I have oxtail with broad beans and rice."

"Um..."

"Or I may have some escovitch fish in the fridge," she said, heading for the kitchen.

"The fish is fine, thank you," I said, following her lead.

"Why? You don't like oxtail?" she asked.

"I've never had it." And I don't want to. Eating a 'tail ' doesn't sound appetizing.

"Mercy! What do you eat? Ackee and salt fish? Roast breadfruit? Curry goat? Stew chicken?"

I looked at her blankly. Frankly, I had not heard of any of the foods she mentioned.

She let out a dramatic sigh. "A Jamaican who doesn't eat Jamaican food!"

"Do beef patties count?" I asked.

She scowled loudly with her eyes. "It's really a good thing you're home. I can just look at you and tell you're not eating good food." She held up my wrist, which fit neatly in the circle her thumb and ring finger made. "If there was a high wind, you would blow away."

I didn't think I looked that bad. Yes, my five foot tall frame was on the thin side.  I didn't have the curvy hips or busty chest that some other sixteen year old had.  But I always thought I had a decent body.  I had just enough curve to prove I was a teenage, but not too much to draw attention.  I liked it this way.

"I'm going to heat up the fish I have in the fridge and fry some fresh festival."

"You don't have to do all that for me. Just the fish is fine."

Aunt Dar ignored me and pulled a mixing bowl down from the shelf.  "Pass me the cornmeal under the last cupboard on the left," she said, pouring some flour into a large bowl.  "You're going to eat some food tonight."

## ~Jane~

### Chapter two: Stush {Snobbish or Uppity}

Kevin was scheduled to leave for college in two weeks. He took that time to show me some of what Jamaica had to offer. We went to the tourist hot spots like Dunn's River Falls, where I climbed the stones to the top of the falls. Then we went to some of Kevin's preferred spots, like St. Thomas Mineral Bath. The locals said that the mineral waters from this bath cured all sorts of illnesses. Although I didn't wholeheartedly believe the folklore, I was slightly hopeful that an hour in the "miracle" water would cure my lifelong struggle with Asthma.

Our last stop on the tour was Kevin's favourite spot, Hellshire Beach. On our way there, Kevin went on and on about good food and the warm ocean water. When we arrived, I heard the base of the music booming as a string of dried grass and bamboo roofs came into view.

"Loud music at a beach?" I said to myself.

Kevin let out a muffled laugh. "That's how we do it here. Sunday beach party! It gets really nice at night."

"Really?" It sounded exciting.

"You'll be at home and in your bed by that time," he said, wagging his finger. "Tomorrow is your first day at Kingston Academy."

"You're going away to college tomorrow and you're not packed."

He raised his brows.

We pulled to a stop under a poorly nourished tree. "You don't seem excited about starting school," I said, unbuckling my seat belt.

He gave a casual shrug as he turned off the engine.

"Aunt Dar's not here." I reminded him as I exited the car. There was saltiness to the air that tickled my nose. I was fighting off a sneeze as Kevin turned, rested his forearms against the roof of the car and looked carefully at me.

"I'm excited about going to Montego Bay College. Parties. Girls. I'm not so sure about Accounting. I don't know." He released a sigh.

"Why did you pick it?"

"It's the responsible choice." He opened the trunk and tossed me my backpack.

I did a quick survey of its contents—a beach towel, bottle of water, and Asthma inhaler.  "So what's the issue with Port Royal?"

"Huh?"

"The place you wanted to do your internship. It's just that it seemed to hit a nerve with your mom."

"Do you ask your mother this many questions?" He leaned on the side of the car and squinted in the midday sun.

"I would if I thought that she would tell me the truth."

We walked towards the cluster of buildings that lined the beach front. People were perched wherever they could find a seat—on the wooden railing, on the steps, on an old tree stump. They were too preoccupied with their food to notice me, well all except for one. A slender boy with eyes so brown they looked almost red. He watched me as I mounted the steps into Freddie's Seafood Shop.

"Do you always do the responsible thing?" I said, breaking the boy's gaze.

"It's just me and mom. I can't mess around with my life, 'cause when she's grey, it's me who'll be taking care of her."

The crowd in Freddie's was thick. Kevin held me by my wrist and led me through the crowd of people. The slender boy followed me into the restaurant. I drew closer to Kevin as the slender boy inched towards me. Suddenly, a hand reached through the crowd and grabbed my shoulder. There was a burning sensation where one of his fingers made contact with the bare skin at the base of my neck. I swatted his arm away and stumbled closer Kevin.

"You okay?" Kevin said looking back curiously.  He surveyed the crowd before bringing his attention back to me.  "Jane, are you okay?"

I looked back. The slender boy was nowhere in sight. I let out a deep breath. "I'm probably overreacting, but I thought someone was following me."

Kevin clenched his jaw tightly as he pulled me closer. "What did this person look like?"

"Uh, tall, skinny guy..."

"What colour were his eyes?"

Kevin's voice carried a tone that sent a wave of fear down my spine.  "Brown."

Immediately, the muscles in his face relaxed and his grip softened. "Keep close. People here are a little more forward than you're probably used to."

I didn't allow myself to fully relax until we emerged from the restaurant and stepped onto the beach.

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked as I spread my towel on the khaki-coloured sand.

"You haven't asked permission before." Kevin noted as he pulled his t-shirt over his head.

"Why was Aunt Dar upset with you for wanting to intern at Port Royal?"

He gave a one-sided smile. He grabbed his heel and pulled off his sock and shoe in one fluid movement. "She was upset with me because I opened my big mouth. I was curious to see how much you knew."

"Knew about what?"

"History."

"Well, that would be nothing. I don't know anything about Jamaican history."

"That's unfortunate."

Speaker boxes stacked twelve feet in the air began to belt out a reggae love ballad that made the sand vibrate. The crowd erupted into song and dance. Despite the party-like atmosphere, the beach was littered with families playing in the water with their children and groups of youth kicking around soccer balls. As I scanned the crowd, my eye rested on a girl who, it seemed, was watching me. She was a young girl about my age. She was clearly an "it" girl. Her brown hair was highlighted with blond streaks and, even from the twenty-foot distance that separated us, it was clear that she was heavily made-up. She whispered to the girl standing next to her who looked like her twin. They both looked at me and giggled. I turned my attention back to Kevin who was now stripped down to his swimming shorts.

"Can you swim?" He asked as he pulled me to my feet.

"I took lessons."

"So you're a professional."

"No. Only a lesson here and there, in between moves."

"Excuses, excuses..."

"Plus, the ocean's different. There are a lot of unknowns and a lot of things that can't be predicted— the depth, the pull of the current, the wildlife lurking at the bottom."

"You sound like your mother."

That shut me up.

Kevin ran into the water, his body roughly cutting through the tide. I stood by the edge of the water fingering the hem of the Care Bear t-shirt I wore over my one piece bathing suit. The tide rolled in slowly, touching my toes and peaking at my ankles, then rolling back again. Kevin was already waist deep. He motioned for me to join him before he dove under the water.

"Come on, Jane," he yelled. "Take a chance!"

Kevin was right. I looked forward to this trip because it gave me the chance to live paranoia-free. The best way to not be bound by fear is to ignore the wailing sirens in my head and just go for it. I exhaled and made my way into the water to join him. Waist high in the warm, gentle currents, I looked down to my feet and admired the water's clarity. This wasn't as bad as I thought. The warmth of the ocean was soothing.

I smiled and waved to Kevin as he beckoned for me to come out further. I took one step towards him when something prickly brushed against my skin. I looked down. The once clear water had become murky, as if a current carrying mud had suddenly rolled in.

Whatever this prickly thing was, it wound itself tightly around my ankle and began pulling me downward. It tugged gently at first, like a child pulling on his parent's hem. Then suddenly, like a rug pulled out from under me, I slipped backward and became totally submerged under the water.

Time seemed to slow down as I was pulled along the ocean floor. The salt water stung my eyes as I stared desperately at the light above the water. I tried to get to the surface, which should only be a matter of me standing to my feet. But I couldn't move. Both my legs were bound tightly by what looked like seaweed.

The bright sun that I once saw above now appeared a distant glimmer. I twisted my legs back and forth attempting in vain to free them. I struggled until my lungs burned with emptiness. Out of breath, I lay motionless on the ocean floor and watched my gran's necklace rise from beneath my t-shirt and hover above my body.

A single stream of light broke through the murky water and struck my gran's pendant. A renewed strength began to pulse through my limbs. With my trembling fingers, I tore at the weeds that bound my legs. The weeds were relentless. Every weed I tore off was replaced by another.

Suddenly, the weeds loosened. I kicked free. I burst through the water's surface with the force of an erupting volcano. I gasped wildly and my lungs burned as they took in my first fresh breath.

"Jane!" Kevin yelled, running through the water towards me. "Jane, what happened?"

I continued to gasp wildly for air. "I d... I d... I don't know!" My voice shook with every syllable. "I don't know what happened. I slipped... Aagh, my chest..."

"Are you okay?"

"My inhaler," I said in between coughs. "My chest...I have Asthma. I need my inhaler."

Kevin wrapped his arms around my shoulders and hurried me towards the shore. My weak legs trembled with every step. I got to my inhaler and took two deep pulls of its cool mist. Within a few moments, my lungs no longer burned for air.

Sitting back on my heels I realized that at least a dozen people were standing motionless, staring at me with startled and slightly fearful expressions. One person, the same girl who earlier stood giggling with her friend, now looked like she would kill me if given the chance. Her two-toned dyed hair was drenched in some places but bone dry and perfectly coiffed in others. Her black mascara was smudged around her eyes like a raccoon.

"My hair is wet!" The girl shouted angrily. "That foreigna can't swim."

"Please tell me I'm daydreaming," I said looking to Kevin. "How did I wet her? She's standing at least ten feet from where I was."

"Jane, yuh bus out a dat wata like duppy a ride yuh."

"I don't understand what you are saying."

"You busted out of the water like a ghost was chasing you. Everyone within twenty feet of you got wet." Kevin smiled brightly. "How did you do that?"

"I don't know." I couldn't explain any of what just happened.

He wrapped me in a beach towel. I wished the towel were big enough to hide me from the now forty or so people pointing and whispering to one another. We walked back through the crowded restaurant towards our car. This time, we didn't have to force our way through. The crowd silently parted giving us clear passage. I looked back over my shoulder at the girl.  She was drying off with a towel and continuing to yell to anyone who would listen, which in her case was a lot of people.

When we got to the car, I took one more pull of the inhaler. "I can't believe that just happened. And that girl..."

"Don't you waste any time thinking about that stush girl Nadya McPherson. She thinks she's high and mighty because her father owns a couple restaurants. She comes to the beach every weekend ordering people around like personal servants. If you ask me, she needed to be kicked off of her high horse." He jerked the car off the gravel lot and pulled onto the paved road.

So far, my attempt at normal has been a baffling disaster.

## ~Jane~

### Chapter three:  Kingston Academy

I have always discounted my mother's warnings about unforeseen danger as unfounded paranoia, but I can't discount what happened yesterday. I spent most of last night mulling over the event, searching for a reasonable explanation for what happened. When nothing reasonable came to mind, I started to consider the existence of killer seaweed acting on the orders from microscopic plankton. By 2:00a.m., sleep stung my eyes and I finally let go and drifted into slumber.

"Jane! Jane!" A voice broke through my sleep. I slowly opened my eyes. They throbbed as if they had their own pulse.

"Jane!" The voice sounded closer.

Then it clicked and I shot straight up in the bed. "Yes, Aunt Dar."

"Are you ready?"

"Um..." I leapt out of bed. "I'll be right there." My voice was hoarse. I must have swallowed a lot more salt water than I thought.

I have to think of a way to thank Kevin for not telling Aunt Dar about Hellshire Beach. If she knew what happened yesterday I would be packing my bags instead of getting dressed for school.

I looked in the mirror and reviewed my school mandated uniform one last time—navy blue pleated, knee-length skirt and a white polo with the school logo K.A. embroidered in the top right corner.

I've had many first days at many schools.  For some reason I felt more anxious today than I had on any other first day.  Maybe it was the fact that I was in a different country.  Whatever the reason, my stomach was in knots.

"It's stupid to get this worked up!" I said to myself, tucking my gran's necklace under my shirt.

"Pardon?" Aunt Dar suddenly appeared in the doorway. She was dressed for work, wearing a navy suit and red patent leather pumps.

"I was talking to myself."

"Talking to oneself is the first sign of madness."

"Sad to admit, but it's not the first sign for me." I grabbed my backpack and followed her lead towards the car.

Thanks to Aunt Dar, I was registered in one of the island's most prestigious private schools— Kingston Academy. This school was based on the American school system, complete with SAT testing. Aunt Dar worked at the school's head office and somehow managed to squeeze me in during the middle of the second semester. This may have been the miracle she performed that convinced my mother to let me come to Jamaica.

The car slowed to a crawl as we approached the congested junction of Half Way Tree. I watched people of all ages as they scurried, waving down taxis and buses, and yelling to one another. According to Aunt Dar, this was a typical morning. I have never seen anything so chaotic and refreshing.

"This is going to sound like a stupid question..."I started hesitantly.

"Jane, the only thing stupid about a question is not asking it," she responded.

"Will the students at Kingston Academy speak the way you do? I mean, when you're speaking to me I can understand you, but when I talk to Kevin, sometimes I can't make out a word."

Aunt Dar chuckled. I guess there was something odd about a born Jamaican being so, well, not Jamaican.

"Officially, the school's code of conduct mandates that all students conduct themselves in a professional manner. The rule is that proper English vernacular is to be used when on school property. Street lingo is not tolerated. The Kingston Academy has a strong international academic reputation that attracts foreign students and the children of diplomats. So I'd imagine that you're not going to hear much local twang."

A large tree with bright orange flowers hunched over the metal gate that bore the school's blue and white emblem. We followed the tree-lined road until it emptied into a large parking lot. The Kingston Academy building stood in the middle of a well-manicured lot.

I stared at the castle-like structure for a few moments before I turned to grab my lunch bag and met Aunt Dar's gaze. I quickly pulled my mouth into a smile. The last thing I wanted was for her to think that I did not appreciate this opportunity. I imagine that she had to pull more than a few strings to be able to get me into a school like this.

"I can read you like I read your mother. Stop worrying. You'll get on just fine." She said.

I gave a half smile and shut the car door behind me.

"I'll pick you up around four," she called out from the open passenger window.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," I said walking back to the car. "I spotted the bus stop when I was out with Kevin on the weekend and I picked up a schedule. I'll be able to find my way."

Aunt Dar narrowed her eyes. I knew that look all too well. It was the same look my mother gave me the first time I asked her if I could stay over at Julie's house when I was eight, and when I asked if I could go on a three-day camping trip with my grade eight class.

"There is no way you are taking the bus. What do you think your mother would say about that?"

"She would say be here for four," I said, feeling the sting of defeat.

"I thought so."

I turned to face the grand stone staircase that led to the oversized double door entrance. The campus consisted of one grand building, a wide multi-winged structure with windows and mini-balconies dotting the parameter. The hallway was tiled in large white and black tiles laid out in a checkerboard pattern.  It made me think of Castle Loma back in Toronto

According to my "Welcome" package, my first stop was the head office. The office was an open space with desks dotted sporadically across the room. A slender woman sitting at the desk in the middle of the room glanced over her thick glasses at me. She gestured for me to wait as she spoke quickly into the phone. I turned to take a seat and was startled by a girl standing directly behind me.

"Sorry, I didn't hear anyone come in behind me," I said, taking a deep breath.

"I'm light on my feet," she said with a bright smile.

She was taller than I was, at least five-seven. She had fine features and straight blond hair that had been cut into a bob.

"You must be Jane Miller," she said enthusiastically.

"News travels quickly," I returned a tight lipped smile.

"My name is Lisa Kennon. I'm your volunteer student guide. It's my job to show you around the school today." Her ear-to-ear smile managed to stay intact as she spoke.

"Sorry about that," the slender administrator said as she approached us. She adjusted her frames and squinted at Lisa and me. "Jane Miller, correct?"

"Yes."

"Well I see you've met your student guide," she said, pursing her cracked lips. "Lisa is one of our brightest students. Last year she single-handedly led our school to victory at the political debate competition. She will be a huge asset to you during your time with us." The woman spoke with her neck, pitching it forward like a chicken grazing on seeds. "Stick with Lisa and you're sure to make the dean's list."

Lisa's cheeks turned red, but she didn't seem embarrassed. She looked proud.

The orientation took the entire morning. The school was just as grand inside as it appeared on the outside. Lisa was meticulous in showing me every nook and cranny of the school. We viewed the bathrooms, the gym change rooms, the trophy section, the computer lab, the library, and many other rooms I would need a map to find by myself.

"I know it's a lot to take in on your first day," she said as we made our way to the exit.

"A bit."

"Don't take it to heart if you have a hard time finding your way around for the first little while.  I've been here since grade nine. I found out three weeks ago that this school has a games room," she said with a giggle.

"What kind of games?"

"Don't know. I've never been inside."

We passed a group of students perched against a column. One of the students stood out from the crowd. He looked East Asian, possibly Chinese. He had jet black hair cut low to his scalp. His slim body moved dramatically, jostling as he spoke in heavy patios.

"The small guy in the middle entertaining the crowd is Mark Chung," Lisa said as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Where is he from?" I asked.

"Mandeville, Jamaica. They don't have Chinese Jamaicans in Canada?"

"I'm sure they do. I just haven't met one."

"Well, the first ship from China arrived in Jamaica in 1854."

"Were you born in Jamaica?" I asked, glancing at her blond hair.

"Of course. My father has a Lebanese background. My mother's background is German. I read that you are Jamaican as well.  Your parents are Maroons."

"Yes and no.  I don't feel Jamaican."

"If you're a Maroon, then your ancestors were amongst the first Africans to arrive on the island.  Your ancestors rebelled against their slave owners and began their own community."

"Wow.  I didn't know all that."

"Now you do." She said with a bright smile.  "Come on.  I've got more to show you."

The last stop of the day was the outdoor gym field. The simple look of the field with its chalk-lined borders and worn wooden bleachers didn't match the grand appearance of the rest of the school.

On the field, a soccer game had begun. Players in our school colours were on the field stretching and receiving what looked like a pep talk from their coach. Lisa's name was called from a distance. Mark, the Chinese Jamaican boy I'd seen earlier, motioned for her to join him in the bleachers.

"Do you mind if we sit?"

"No." Carrying a backpack with two notepads and pencil didn't feel like much for the first little bit, but after five hours, I was thankful for an opportunity to take it off.

"Jane, this is Mark Chung."

I gave him my usual short wave and tight-lipped smile.

"This is the girl from Canada, eh," Mark leaned back and spread his thin arms across the bench behind him.

"Yep, eh," I replied.

"We all have our stereotypes." Lisa said, shooting Mark an annoyed glance.

"I caught the way you looked at me in the hall." Mark cocked his head and winked at me.

Instantly, my cheeks grew hot. "Just so we're clear, I wasn't checking you out."

"Don't I get an introduction?" The boy sitting two rows behind Mark asked. He braced his elbows on his knees.

Lisa looked back and rolled her eyes. "Marcus," she said in a grim tone. "I thought you were going away for a while."

He pulled his mouth into a crooked smile. "I was, but I decided to postpone my trip. Disappointed?"

"Deeply," she said with sincerity.

Mark shot Marcus an icy glare, he mumbled something, then curled his thin lips in contempt.

Marcus had a boyish look complete with a dimple. He had dark brown freckles that lined the bridge of his nose. He reminded me of the kind of boy that the girls at my high school back in Canada stupidly lost their minds over. He reminded me of Kumar.

"Nice accent." Marcus said, leaning toward me.

"Thanks."

"I've been to Toronto once, during the winter," He said, smiling. The sun shone brightly overhead giving the freckles on his nose a red hue. "I prefer the sun."

"No one cares what you prefer, Neph," Mark barked over his shoulder.

"Easy Speedy, you wouldn't want to scare off your new friend. Would you?" Marcus replied in a painfully cold tone.

"Stop it!" Lisa said as she noticed the spectators around them. "Both of you know the rules."

There are rules at this school against verbal arguments? I have to read that ethics manual.

"Are those your nicknames—Neph and Speedy?" I asked.

Marcus laughed heartily. "You are going to be a lot of fun." He winked, rose from his seat and walked down the bleachers. Mark and Lisa's eyes followed him until he disappeared.

I don't make it a habit of prejudging someone based on appearance alone, but sometimes I get a feeling about someone, like a pang in my gut that says, 'Jane, keep your distance.' I got this feeling about Marcus.

"You want to stay for the game?" Lisa asked after a few quiet moments.

"Sure. I've never watched a live soccer game before," I replied.

"Soccer?" She repeated in a confused tone. "In Jamaica it's called football."

"Football. Got it." I said nodding.

"Our team is in the white and blue," she motioned to the left of the field, "and the visiting team from Port Antonio is in the yellow."

As Lisa finished her sentence, a new player for Kingston Academy entered the field and took the forward position. He hunched his broad shoulders over the ball, facing off against his opponent.

Suddenly, he shot back up angling his body oddly toward the bleachers. It was as if someone had called his name and he looked up instinctively. The referee blew his whistle, but he stood stiff, still staring.

"What's Boothe doing?" Mark asked, throwing his hands in the air. "Tomorrow's stew chicken a ride pon dis game."

"Serves you right!" Lisa said, looking at him sideways. "The school has a no gambling policy."

"School rules are only suggestions. Nuh true, Jane?"

I shrugged. "I'm sorry I don't understand patois."

On the field, the opponent captured the ball and kicked it to his teammate. The spectators let out a huge grumble. The opponent ran past Boothe, knocking him on the shoulder. The jolt seemed to wake him up. He turned and ran after the player, quickly recovering the ball. For the next thirty-five minutes, he dominated the fields. He scored five points and moved around his opposition as if they were standing still.

The spectators watched the game with the passion that Canadians showed at a hockey game. Mark jumped from his seat a few times, yelling towards the field when he thought the referee had made a bad call. Everyone cheered each time Boothe made a goal.

Boothe didn't look toward the bleachers for the rest of the game. When the game was over, everyone shook hands, congratulating each other on a good game. Seconds later, Boothe was off the field, leaving his teammates behind.

Mark gripped his shirt right above his heart as the bleachers emptied. "I'll never gamble with chicken like that again."

In the distance, standing by the sidelines, Marcus stood watching.

## ~Jane~

### Chapter Four: I Get Traced

I have Ancient Civilizations and Visual Arts in the morning, followed by History and English in the afternoon. According to Lisa's directions to get to my first class, I head north until I hit the teachers' lounge, then west toward the bathrooms, the room should be on my right just past the...

"I'm lost." I stared blankly at the map's tiny coloured squares.

"Morning, Jane." A voice chirped from behind. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Lisa said with bright smile. "I'm..."

"Light on your feet. I remember. Actually, I'm glad you're here. I can't find room 77."

"Ancient Civilizations." She said, flashing her pristine white teeth. "I've got that class, too. Follow me. You'll love the teacher. He really gives a good lecture."

As we walked, I traced my finger along the map and marked where we stopped.

"Here we are, Room 77," she said with her usual bright smile.

"Thanks. If you didn't run into me I would have been circling the building till lunch."

Room 77, first period Ancient Civilizations, resembled a movie theatre with graded rows of padded bucket seats. Large windows lined the two sides of the room letting the light bounce off the teacher's podium. A good number of the hundred or so seats were filled with chattering teens. A group of heavily made up girls who sat in the second row watched us as we entered.

"I sit there, in the middle. Do you want to sit together?"

"Sure."

Her blue and white backpack bounced as she mounted the steps. She stopped abruptly in front of Mark who had his feet propped up on the back of the chair in front of him.

"That's disgusting," she said, dropping her backpack. "Someone has to sit there, you know."

"They won't if my feet are on it."

"Do you mind?" Lisa said, pushing his legs with her heavy sack and sliding through the slender walkway.

I couldn't help smiling. They reminded me of one of those old married couples you see on the soaps who pretended to hate each other, but deep down wouldn't know what to do without the other. But they were only sixteen, not married, and based on the way Mark flirts with other girls, definitely not dating.

"Morning, Mark." I said passing him.

He saluted and propped his feet back onto the seat.

I watched their body language. They were like fifth graders who'd hit each other just to show how much they liked each other. "Have you and Mark ever..." I whispered to Lisa.

"No," she said curtly as her light coloured cheeks grew red.

"Maybe you should tell him how you feel," I whispered.

Her cheeks held their bright hue as she continued to unpack her textbooks and place them neatly on the fold-out table attached to the seat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm just the new girl here. You can discount my opinion if you want. But it just seems like you have feelings for Mark, that's all. I'd say he has feelings for you, too."

Her eyes narrowed. "You really think I should tell him?" she said under her breath. "Forget it. You don't know Mark. He'll let it get to his head."

The classroom was warm. I broke the seal on my bottle of water. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." I said before taking a mouthful.

"You're right! Me and Mark been friends for years, I should be honest with him."

I let out a surprised cough and nearly choked on my water. "I'm not being serious."

"Mark," she turned to him.

I felt myself blush. I can't believe she is actually going to do this. I wasn't serious, and even if I was, who am I to listen to? "Please don't!" I pleaded. "I was kidding..."

"Mark, Jane thinks I should tell you how I feel. So here goes."

Mark looked at her intently.

She took a deep breath. "You're the laziest, most self-centered person I have ever met. Take your nasty foot off the chair!"

I burst into laughter. I laughed so hard my eyes began to water.

"You're getting better at the joke thing," Mark said with a light nod. "But don't forget who the master is."

"See, Jane, I told you it would go to his head," Lisa said, giggling lightly.

Their smiles faded as Marcus entered the classroom. He was followed by the tall dark-complexioned boy I had seen on the football field yesterday. Boothe, I think Mark called him.

He was the epitome of a jock.  He was tall and muscular with a chiselled jaw line and smooth chocolate skin.  He looked like he spent more time in the mirror than most girls.

Every part of him looked boringly familiar.  Except for his eyes.  They were as black as onyx but yet had a shiny gloss when he stepped into the sunlight.  I have never seen eyes like that.

"Instead of staring, you should go over and tell him how you feel," Lisa whispered.

"Haha."  Why am I staring? It was his eyes. I wanted him to step into the light again; I needed to get another look.

One of the heavily made up girls in the second row extended her arms to touch him. He jerked back, stepping directly into the sun. He looked up and our eyes met. His eyes were no longer black. They were...grey.

"That's so weird," I mumbled.

I continued to stare, captured by his extraordinary eyes. He stared back, pulling his lips into a one-sided smile.

"Attention, students, please take your seats." A bellowing voice snapped both of us back to reality.

"My name is Dr. Christopher Coy for anyone who is taking my course for the first time. We are going to jump right in. We'll begin today's lesson on page six of your text books." He had a crisp baritone voice. "So, if you can have a seat, Mr. Hasani Boothe."

Boothe winked at me before taking his seat. My fascination instantly turned to disgust. His brazen cockiness made my stomach turn. I rolled my eyes as I turned my attention to Dr. Coy.

Dr. Coy was a tall, average built man. He had no wrinkles or lines on his face, only a smooth, caramel complexion. His long, thin, tightly wrapped dreadlocks were pulled back, with a few loose locks resting on his shoulder.

For the next hour and twenty minutes, he gave theories, facts, figures and charts about the culture in the Caribbean and the British "discovery" of the island. I took notes feverishly but still didn't capture half of what Dr. Coy said.

"Wasn't that good?" Lisa asked as soon as the lecture ended. She gathered her textbooks, piling them into a neat stack on her fold-out table.

"It was something," I replied, shoving my dishevelled papers into my backpack.

I grabbed Lisa's hand before she could head down the aisle. "That guy, Boothe, there's something up with his eyes."

"Haven't noticed," she shrugged.

"There's definitely something weird about them." Black eyes one minute grey another. There is no way that's possible.

"Maybe, your too far away to see things clearly. I've known Boothe for years. There is nothing special about his eyes."

"You're right." I tossed my bag on my back. "I need a closer look."

She let out a heavy sigh. "Before you go chasing Boothe, I want to introduce you to Dr. Coy." She quickly walked to the front of the classroom. "Dr. Coy, this is..."

"Jane Miller, Darlene Wisdom's niece."  Dr. Coy completed his introduction while extending his hand. "Darlene is a good friend of mine." He sat slightly on the edge of his desk. "It's a pleasure to have you in my class. How are you enjoying the school so far?"

"It's alright."

"You know, Darlene and I worked very hard to get you into this school mid-semester."

"I appreciate it, really."

"It was my pleasure." He and Lisa exchanged a brief glance. "Every Thursday I hold a meeting here after school. There are only four students involved. We look into social issues that are currently affecting our community. I want to invite you to join us. I think you will find it...interesting."

"Like an after-school study group?" I queried. "Wow. You guys really jump right in."

"Similar to a study session, except the issues we discuss are specific to our community."

Lisa raised her brows in anticipation.

"Um, I'll think about it."

"That's all we can ask," he said with a pleasant smile. "I will see you two young ladies tomorrow. Remember to read pages seven to thirty."

I walked through the crowded hallway towards my second period class. Lisa offered to walk with me to make sure I didn't get lost. It's going to be a while before I get a handle on the school layout. We crossed the checkerboard hallway and walked through an archway. On either side of the short tunnel were lockers. Boothe stood at the end with his back turned towards me. I pulled my books against my chest, tucking them under my chin. This was my chance to get a closer look. I walked slowly, waiting for him to turn. My eyes floated over his lean, athletic frame to his sharp jaw line and then up to his face for another glance at his eyes. But he didn't turn.

I must have been standing a few moments before my mind registered that I had stopped behind him. Sirens went off in my head, pleading with me to continue walking and forget about what I saw or thought I saw. On the other hand, curiosity was eating me alive.

I'll just introduce myself and get an unobstructed view of his eyes. Or I could forget this whole thing and mind my own business. Why do I care what colour his eyes are?

I had my foot angled ready to step away when he turned around.

"Couldn't resist?" He said with a crooked smile.

"Pardon? Couldn't resist what?"

He squinted slightly, but maintained his stare. "What do you want?" He said, leaning casually against his locker.

"Nothing." I crossed my arms, tucking my moist palms inward.

"So, you followed me out of class, stood behind me for the last minute for 'nothing'?" He raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"I wanted to ask you a question."

"What?" He said curtly.

"I don't like your attitude."

"I don't think that qualifies as a question." He turned his back to me. "Run along, new girl. I'm not interested."

"You are rude and arrogant. Your head is so gassed, I'm surprised your feet are still on the ground."

He turned swiftly, his chiseled jaw line clenched, his eyes no longer black but grey like the sky before a storm.

"I knew it. Your eyes, they do change colour!" I said, stepping forward. "How is that possible?"

"You don't know?" He said raising one brow. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Don't know what?"

"Interesting." He folded his arms and leaned back against the locker.

"What don't I know?" His elusiveness was becoming more annoying than his attitude.

"Go away," he said, leaning close. "Like I said before, I am not interested."

I couldn't decide between kicking him in the shin or tucking my face behind my books and running away. After standing there for a few more moments I decided to walk away and pretend as if I had never seen or spoken to him.

As I turned to leave, out of the corner of my eye I saw caramel coloured hands creeping around the cuff of Boothe's crisp white shirt and wrapping tightly around his waist. I reached the end of the hallway before I looked over my shoulder. The girl's eyes and mine met briefly. It was the girl from the beach, the girl with the wet hair and runny mascara. Based on her icy glare, I realized that she recognized me too.

"Foreigna," She yelled above the noisy hallway.

"Beef Patty Princess seems sour today," Lisa said, suddenly appearing at my side.

"You've got to make more noise when you walk. Where did you go anyway?"

"To the bathroom. I asked you to wait for me, don't you remember?"

I remember hearing her voice, but I wasn't paying attention to what she said.

"Beef Patty Princess?" I stopped by the water fountain.

"Nadya McPherson. Her dad owns The Beef Inn. You know the commercial 'no need to fuss with the kitchen knife, come to Beef Inn, we'll fix you up right?' Never mind. I was just thinking her face looks like she just ate a bag of sour limes."

"I'm to blame for that. I kind of ran into her at Hellshire Beach on the weekend. Let's just say I didn't make the best first impression."

"What happened?"

I hesitated for a moment. Lisa's been nice, but nice doesn't mean I can trust her. Then again, this may be my mother's paranoia taking over.  I can't truly experience a normal life while living in fear. The only way to get past that roadblock is to go against the warning bells ringing in my head. I have to go against my instinct to retreat like a hermit crab.

"I kind of wet her, messed up her hair and makeup," I said finally.

Lisa let out a hearty chuckle. "How did you do that?"

"Long story."

"Well, she's not one to forgive, so let's hope that all the toxic fumes from her hairspray make her forget."

"I think this can be settled with an apology. I don't need enemies my first week at school."

"I don't think that's a good idea. She's going to trace you."

"Trace me?" The only tracing I could think of involves children and crayons.

"She's going to cuss you, tell you off, carry on bad." Lisa looked at me as though that was terminology I should have known.

"It was my fault, whether she wants to cuss or not. I should have apologized when it happened. I'll go over and say I'm sorry, and we'll start fresh. I can't see us being friends, but at least we won't be enemies."

The final warning bell rang loudly through the hall, signalling that we only had two minutes to make it to our next class. I battled the downstream flow of students. Nadya turned to face me as I approached Boothe's locker. Boothe looked at me briefly through the corner of his eye but continued his activity as if neither of us were there.

"Hi. I want to apologize for Sunday at the Beach. It was an accident. I didn't mean to get anyone wet."

"Accident? Is that what you call embarrassing me in front of everyone? I planned that party for weeks. You come, flashing around the water like a likkle pickney." She scowled as she gave me a head to toe assessment.

"I understand you're upset. I'm trying to make peace here," I continued.

"I don't want to hear it. It's too late to beg for my forgiveness. So, you and your nerd friend can run along," she sneered.

I'm not sure which one of her words set off a spark in my chest, but by the end of her sentence, I was on fire. "There is absolutely no reason for you to be rude, especially to Lisa. She had nothing to do with what happened at the beach," I responded sharply.

"What are you going to do about it?" She stepped too close for personal comfort.

She now stood only inches from me. All I could think of was how much I wanted to dump her in the garbage can. But that would be vile, and I'm sure I would regret it after I'd calmed down.

"That's what I thought," she said, satisfied by my silence.

"I have definitely met my attitude limit for the day."  I started to step back. "I've been to a lot of schools and each school had a girl like you. You think you're better than everyone else, so you can do what you want and treat people however you want. Well, at the end of the day, it's all about you making yourself feel better by intimidating people. I'm not scared of you."

"You should be." Nadya bumped my shoulder as she stormed off through the crowd. Boothe was gone as well. Some students idled by their lockers, whispering to each other. I had inadvertently made a scene. Again.  I hate being the center of attention.

"You've got bite." Lisa said as she approached my side. "It's really hard to keep yourself in check when someones up in your face like that."

If only Lisa knew how right she was.

"You didn't have to stick up for me. But thanks."

A nod was all I could manage with the fire raging through my chest. I have to find my inhaler.

## ~Boothe~

### Chapter Five:  Duppy Know Who Fi Frighten

#### {A Jamaican proverb: A ghost knows who he can scare}

Ninety-nine-point-five percent of the population at Kingston Academy would describe this place as a sombre environment, where academic excellence is the only goal. For five of us—Marcus, Lisa, Mark, Me, and now Jane—it's a social experiment. Kingston Academy is where we live out our teenage years, side by side with one we are taught to hate and hunt, the only Nephilim in the mix, the distant descendant of a fallen angel, Marcus.

I assumed that when Dr. Coy allowed Marcus to come to this school, he anticipated that this experience would rehabilitate him. Maybe he figured that if Marcus associated with Normals and Eshkars like Lisa and Mark he would abandon his destructive habits. For the three years that I have been at this school, instead of getting better, Marcus's behaviour has only gotten worse. Despite my best efforts to stay out of this ongoing feud between the Eshkars and Nephilim, I constantly find myself pulled right back in because of Marcus.

"Look what I got my hands on," Marcus said, smiling wickedly. He slowly unrolled his fingers to reveal something small and red. "I got it from one of my suppliers."

"I'm not interested." I snapped as I pulled my textbooks out of my bag and threw them into my locker. The hallway was full of students making their way to their first period class. The last thing Marcus or I need right now are witnesses.

"It's a bomb," He said, still smiling.

"A what?" I shouted, startling a few students who stood nearby. "Are you crazy?" I grabbed his arm and pulled him against the lockers. The locker dented, chipping the grey paint.

"Easy, Sampson." Marcus shrugged off the jolt. "It's a fake, all the bang with none of the boom."

With an agitated sigh, I returned my attention to my locker. "Let me guess, you're going to set the fake bomb off. You'll whisper to a few Normals that there's been a terrorist attack, and mass hysteria will take care of the rest."

"I was planning on throwing this in the principal's office and having a little morning fire drill. But your idea is so much better."

"Using your weapon is against the rules" I was wary of possible eavesdroppers. I grabbed the bomb out of his hand and threw it in my locker, covering it with my football uniform.

Marcus rolled his eyes dramatically. "I never thought I would hear that from you." He said, faking disappointment. "What happened to you, Boothe? You're no fun anymore."

"Sorry to disappoint." I finished unloading my books, but continued to shift things around my locker, trying to settle my thoughts.

"Why is my power called a weapon and yours called a gift? That's discrimination."  Marcus barked.

"Where do I start?" I turned to address him. "Last week you made the cook believe that there were maggots in the stew peas. She was crying for an hour, thinking she had fed this to faculty. Two days ago, you got Rayon from math class to set fire to the music room..."

"Okay, okay." He held up his hands in defeat.

"Rayon was expelled, Marcus. Don't you think you're taking things too far?"

"So, you don't want to help me bomb the principal's office?"

I didn't answer. He let out a short, throaty laugh then suddenly grew quiet. His not-so-hidden dark side had surfaced, turning this seemingly jovial boy into a dark, calculated and malicious creature. Within seconds, his eyes transformed from dark brown to blood red, the universal sign of a Nephilim.

"Ah, come on." His voice seemed to resonate from somewhere deep in his chest. "We can do this together, just like before." He stared up at me, his eyes glowing. Suddenly, looking into his eyes, his thoughts became clear to me. I could see his plan unfold. We would wait for the principal to leave the office, he usually does this around 9:30 a.m., and then I'll enter through the glass doors and whisper to the secretary that some worthless Normal is in trouble in the hall. As she leaves the office, I'd throw the bomb in the principal's office then stand back and watch the mayhem. There's no way I would get caught. Even if I did, it's a fake bomb, how much harm could that be?

"Stop!" I yelled, throwing him against the lockers. "Get out of my head!"

Marcus let out a deep-chested laugh.

"Keep it up and I'll show you what I find funny." I pressed my forearm firmly against his chest. With a little more pressure I could make both his lungs collapse.

At first thought, you would expect that the descendants of angels would be good. Good beings don't run from heaven and hide amongst humans. Good beings don't pollute an innocent race with destruction, violence, and malice. No one would wrong me for taking him out, that's why we Eshkars exist. We are the answer to the Nephilim problem.

The shrieks of the students around me reminded me of the prying eyes.

"Look me in the eye." I said in a hushed voice. "Don't you ever try to use your weapon on me again."

He held up his hands in surrender. I relaxed my pressure, allowing his feet to touch the ground once again. He took a few staggered breaths then looked up at me, his eyes still deep crimson. "Normals are beneath us, Boothe. They are nothing. You and I are powerful creatures." He looked down briefly to straighten his uniform. "Normals," he spat. "They're like ants."

"I don't believe that." I grabbed my backpack and started down the hall towards my first period Ancient Civilization class.

"Yes, you do." He increased his pace in order to keep up with me. "That's why you and I make such a good team. We both have the blood of Normals running through our veins. It's that Normal side of both of us that empathizes with their fragile bodies and weak minds. But our heavenly side, our powerful side..."

"One, you should not be talking about heaven. And two, you and I are not the same. Our ancestors were given their supernatural powers to rid the world of your kind. Just because I tolerate you doesn't make us equals." I said over my shoulder.

"Okay. Okay. You're an Eshkar. I'm a Nephilim. But both of us have been divinely touched, divinely blessed by the hand of God. It's time that we truly join..."

"Stop talking." He was a few paces behind me, spouting his we-are-one argument.

A hallway speckled with idling students is not the place to bring up this topic. Besides the five of us, the rest of the student body are Normals, people born without any supernatural talents. Our existence has been and should continue to be unknown to them. Yet, here Marcus is, walking through the halls of Kingston Academy, sharing our secrets with everyone within earshot.

I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him. "You are not supposed to be here. Your ancestors had their place in heaven and weren't supposed to leave it! They rebelled and came to earth, that's what makes us different."

"Is rebelling what makes you different, Boothe?" He ran his hand over his chin. "Is that what makes you openly associate with a Nephilim and turn your back your own kind?"

I opened my mouth to deny his accusation but he quickly cut me off.

"When was the last time you hung out with another Eshkar?"

The answer is almost never. In fact, I go out of my way to stay away from them. "Shut up, Marcus." My tone sent a loud warning.

"When I showed you the bomb, you had me red-handed. I was about to use my 'weapon' to hurt a Normal. Do I have your rebellion to thank for not reporting me to that loser Coy?" His blood red eyes twinkled as he spoke.

"I did stop you!" I said through my clenched teeth.

"But didn't arrest me, despite having more than enough cause, and I can guarantee that you won't report me to Coy. Why?"

"You know why! Because I want nothing to do with this fight!" With that, I continued my course towards my first period class.

"You've said that before." He caught up with me quickly. "I did a little digging recently and there is more to your ambivalence than simple disinterest."

"Ambivalence? Big word for someone who barely shows up for class."

"I think you won't turn me in because of what happened to your mother. She was killed, wasn't she?"

Instantly my blood began to boil. I grabbed him by the throat and threw him against the cement wall. White powdery dust from the ceiling fell around his face, landing like dandruff flakes on his shoulders. I tightened my grip around his throat as I inched his body off the floor. His eyes were dark red, like the colour of a dried pool of blood. He didn't yell for help or beg me to stop. He just looked at me with a mocking grin.

Again, Marcus took things too far. My birth mother dropped me off at my grandparents' doorstep when I was seven months old. I was later told that she was killed in some sort of accident that no one has been able to clarify. It's been a daily struggle not to think about my birth mother and the nagging questions I have about her life and death.

"Don't you ever talk about my mother, ever!" My face was only inches from his.

"This is the Boothe I want to see—angry, ready to avenge, willing to take charge when the situation calls for it."

Marcus was adept at manipulating and controlling people's thoughts and actions. Some call him an influence peddler, but that doesn't quite capture him. He does more than sell you on an idea. He carefully assesses your desires and weaknesses and uses whatever avenue is required to control you. For some people it's as simple as bribery. For others it's the offer of power. For me it was my weakness, my mother. I must be careful that he doesn't find any other chinks he could wedge his foot in. I released my grip and he fell to the floor, laughing.

"Influencing is an art." He said, straightening his collar. "It requires rigorous practice and ongoing training to stay on top."

"Practice on me again and I will..."

"Okay. Okay, no practicing on you. I'm bored of you anyway."

"Good." We were steps from the Ancient Civilizations classroom. Senseless chatter escaped the classroom and invaded the otherwise quiet hallway.

"Maybe," Marcus whispered as we walked into the classroom. "I could try Jane Miller. You wouldn't mind if I practiced on her?" Marcus carefully assessed my face.

Why would I care? "Jane's an Eshkar. I'm sure she can take care of herself."

He stood at the front of the room and looked directly at her. Jane seemed uneasy with the attention and started to shift her eyes around the room. "I haven't seen eyes like that in a long time."

She was a naturally beautiful girl, with brown almond shaped eyes, smooth tamarind coloured skin and full lips.  She was petite, hiding her figure under an oversized uniform shirt and knee below knee length skirt.  Unlike most of the girls around her, she preferred the simple look, pulling her jet-black hair into a ponytail, not fussing with makeup and only wearing one piece of jewelry, a necklace. What made her captivating were her eyes.

"Striking, aren't they?" Marcus's voice snapped me out of my fixation. "The sharpest shade of silver I have ever seen on an Eshkar. It's a good thing that Normals can't see this or they'd be all over her..."

"Yeah, she's alright." I slid into a seat in the front row.

"Say the word and she's all yours." He proceeded to sit right next to me.

"I'm not interested." I wanted as far away from the Eshkar life as possible. I didn't want anything to do with the lifestyle that killed my mother. "But I do think she's too good for you. Pam or Collette look more like your type." I pointed to the girls sitting in the row behind us. Marcus looked over, flashed a bright smile and waved. The girls giggled and waved back.

"They're too easy. I need a challenge. You should get in on this. There's nothing sinful about a little healthy competition. We both use our best game and see which one of us Jane falls for."

"I'll pass."

"If that's what you want." His voice got low. "You are entitled to make your own decisions. But when things start rolling, don't interfere."

"What exactly are you planning?"

His wicked grin was the only answer he gave. I looked back at Jane to find that she was looking at me. When our eyes met, she quickly turned away. For a brief moment, I felt like I owed her some sort of warning. When she approached me yesterday, it was clear she didn't know anything about being an Eshkar. If that's the case, she has no idea what level of destruction, in the form of a sixteen-year-old boy, was headed her way. Then I remembered my mother and wondered if keeping Jane ignorant and allowing her to think that Marcus's pursuits stemmed from simple infatuation might be a better option. There's a reason why they say ignorance is bliss.

"Alright, students, please bring your independent conversations to an end. Class will now begin." Coy entered and called the class to attention.

All eyes turned to the front of the room. All but mine. My eyes were fixed on Jane's face. I have to protect this girl; she has no idea what trouble's heading her way.

"Boothe," Marcus looked at me from the corner of his eye. "I offered you a piece of the action. You've made your decision.  Don't interfere."

## ~Jane~

### Chapter Six: Late

In a field of tall grass, I stood face to face with my grandmother. The grass tickled my bare arms as it swayed in the gentle breeze. Gran's necklace glistened in the high morning sun. She touched the pendant, ran her finger along the curve of the ocean wave, smiled briefly, and then cupped my face with her hands.

"Never take this off, you hear me?" Her hand lingered around my collarbone. "I told your mother to give this to you. It was the only protection I could provide. You need to know that your ancestors are with you always."

"Gran, I wish you were still here. Now the only time we share is in my dreams." I wiped the mist that formed in my eyes. "You only come to me when something is wrong. Do I have to move again?"

"No. No more moving. No more running. You stand and fight. It is your destiny."

"Gran, I don't understand."

"When given the choice to stand and fight or run, your mother decided to run." She touched my hands. Her fingers were frigid, her skin withered and frail. I wrapped my hands around them, trying to will my warmth to transfer to her.

"It wasn't just a home invasion that made mom run, was it? It was something big; something she has always thought was chasing her. Gran, what sort of trouble is my mother in?"

"None," she said gently. "You are the one in trouble. It has always been you."

Suddenly, the wind picked up, tossing our clothing and hair violently around our bodies. In the distance, dark clouds formed.

"I don't understand, Gran."

"It's not time for all that now," her pleasant smile disappeared. "These are dark times. You have to pay attention to the signs. There are friends who will help you. Do not push them away."

"Gran, you're not making sense."

A dark shadow clouded over the lush valley. The wind whipped so violently that I had to shield my face. When the angry tide died, my Gran was gone. I panicked and did what I knew, what my mother taught me to do when faced with trouble, I ran.

Dark shadows began to twist around me. In the distance, I heard heavy footsteps. Someone was following me. I ran aimlessly through the valley as I heard the footsteps grow louder behind me till I ran right into a dead end. Surrounded by a dark wall, I had no choice but to confront my assailant. I turned and searched the shadows with my fist clenched tightly and my heart thundering. After a few moments, a faint silhouette appeared. I could not make out the face, but recognized the outline of wings spread wide behind the silhouette.

The feeling of dread and fear continued to grip my chest. The figure moved forward, now standing only a few feet away from me. His broad wings were tattered and soiled with dirt. He bent forward and stretched out his hand.

"Come," he whispered in a deep, sweet voice.

"Who are you?"

"Come," he beckoned again.

I hesitated for a moment, but then gave in to his tender voice as it urged me to follow him. I took one step forward when suddenly, a bright light appeared behind me. The winged man covered his face and stumbled back into the darkness.

"Gran!"

As the light faded, I realized that it wasn't her. Standing behind me, in our blue and white Kingston Academy uniform was Lisa.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Helping you."

"Who was that?" I asked, looking back into the shadows.

"Someone who should not be here. Listen to me, Jane, only you can end this. You can end all of it." She gripped my hands.

"End what?"

A rumble shook the ground like a ten-point earthquake. Lisa mouthed something I wasn't able to make out over the bellowing noise.

"What did you say?" I called out to her. My ears felt as though they were filled with water.

"Get down!" She howled.

I awoke with a start. The curtains on my street-facing window were wide open, allowing the sun rays to brighten the entire room. As I sat up straight, I realized that I was exhausted. Every limb ached. I touched my throbbing tongue and realized that my mouth was filled with blood.

I slid off the bed and walked slowly to the window, hoping the bright rays would fill my aching body with life. My gran came to me again. Although I did not know her in life, she always came to me in my dreams.  She warned me of bad things to come, but I hadn't seen her since my last move.

Lisa, what was that about?  My gran has always appeared in my dreams solo.

Outside, the morning had begun to take shape. Across the street, the neighbour's two children were leaving home, dressed in their green and white uniforms. Aunt Dar 's car was missing from the driveway, meaning she had already left for work. Aunt Dar left for work!

I ran downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. I called for Aunt Dar as I searched room by room. Finally, I saw the note on the kitchen table.

Had to leave early for an emergency meeting.

You'll have to take the bus today.

I'll pick you up at 4:00 p.m. be safe.

Underlined twice in capital letters she wrote: DON'T TALK TO STRANGERS.

Back in my room, the red numbers on my alarm clock flashed 8:33 hauntingly. A feeling of dread washed over my body, now bursting with energy.

I have my Civilizations class at 9:00 a.m. This felt like a test. If I'm late for school, she'll never let me take the bus again.

I threw on my wrinkled uniform and ran feverishly toward the bus stop. The bus was scheduled to arrive in two minutes. With one block left, I was too late. I watched helplessly as the bus passed me by. I turned and let my eyes follow the taillights as it disappeared around the corner.

"Great!" I muttered, throwing my hands in the air.

I walked slowly to the empty bus stop and looked at the bus schedule. I won't get another bus until 9:00 a.m. Still looking at the schedule, I heard a loud car horn behind me. To my right, someone in a bright red sports car was waving. I looked back at the bus schedule. I had to figure out how I would get to school.

"Jane!" I heard bellowing from the car

I looked into the car and immediately recognized the face. It was Marcus.

"Looks like you're going to be late." He spoke with a subtle smile. "You want a ride to school?"

I hesitated, idling beside the empty bus shelter. Accepting a ride from Marcus was not an entirely comfortable idea for reasons I couldn't pinpoint. He gave me shivers, and not the romantic kind. There was something about his charm that wasn't charming. On the other hand, Aunt Dar said not to talk to strangers, Marcus wasn't a stranger. My eyes searched the street examining the passing cars while I tried to come up with a solid reason to turn him down and wait for another bus.

"Oh, come on, Jane. Get in." He pleaded, "We're going to the same place."

"Jane, it's starting to rain," his tone was one of annoyance. That same moment a grape-sized raindrop hit my cheek like weighted pigeon poop falling from the sky.

I took a deep breath as I slipped into the passenger seat.

"Thanks," I quickly browsed the interior of Marcus's car. The seats were rich black, high gloss leather that was so soft it felt like my hand would go right through the material. There were no crumbs, no dust, not even a trace of dirt tracked in from outside, except under my feet, of course. I'd have felt more comfortable on the bus.

"No problem." He replied.

Large drops of rain began to pour from the dark sky. It was such a huge contrast to the sun that shone through my window less than fifteen minutes ago.

"So, you like it around here?" He glanced at me slightly as I stared out the window.

"It's okay."

"You stay with your aunt right?"

"Um, yeah," I said, wincing. "How did you know that?"

His smile revealed the deep dimple in his cheek.

"How did you know that I lived with my aunt?" I repeated the question.

"There is very little that is kept secret at Kingston Academy. I'm sure Lisa must have said something."

"Lisa told you? I doubt that."

"It sounds like you know a few secrets yourself," he chuckled.

I decided to let go of the subject and ride in silence. But the curiosity bug began to gnaw at me.

"So, why don't you and Lisa get along?"

"Let's just say that Lisa and I have very strong and opposing beliefs," he spoke slowly, drawing out every word.

"What beliefs?"

"Well, she's on the straight and narrow path and I like the wide, more travelled road. You understand?"

"No, I don't." I peered at him for a while. The longer I looked at him the more unsettled I felt. All of my senses were telling me to run from this boy. The only problem was that I couldn't, at least not for the next ten minutes.

Despite Marcus's uncomfortably fast driving, we were five minutes late. I thanked him politely for the ride and headed to my class, happy to be away from him.

The halls were empty . I approached my first period classroom door with my nerves stirring viciously in my stomach. All I could think of was the look on Dr. Coy's face as I walk in late and interrupt his lesson.

"Oh well, here I go." I said out loud.

I exhaled and opened the door slowly. I was instantly relieved when I didn't see Dr. Coy at his desk. I was even happier that very few students stopped jabbering long enough to notice that I entered.

I searched the room for Lisa's blond bob. The first face I saw was Boothe's, sitting in the front row. An uncomfortable, clammy heat burned in my ears and moved swiftly to my cheeks as our eyes locked.

I haven't spoken with him since that day in the hallway when he rudely told me to get lost. He is by far the rudest, most self-centered person I have ever met, Kumar included. Until he apologizes, I will not speak to him again. ."

I heard the door open and close behind me. I held my breath and then exhaled as Marcus walked past. Relief turned into disgust as he winked at me before taking his seat beside Boothe. They exchanged a few words and a short laugh.

Watching those two together made my stomach turn.

I soon found Lisa nestled in middle row. "Thanks for saving me a seat. I thought I was going to be late. Well, I am late." I slid into the seat beside her. Mark gave me his usual nod as he popped his bright blue chewing gum.

"What happened?" Lisa knitted her brow as she assessed my badly wrinkled uniform.

"I woke up late. Ended up getting a ride from Marcus..."

"Marcus?" She said curling the corner of her top lip.

I told her what happened this morning after I discovered that my aunt had left early for work.

"Marcus should not be allowed to come to this school, period. It's wrong for him to be here."  She said angrily. I hadn't realized how deep her dislike for him ran. My curiosity peaked. What were the criteria for coming to this school? What makes Marcus a bad fit? He seems a lot like the other boys here, pretentious and arrogant.

I was about to ask Lisa these questions when Dr. Coy stepped in, throwing his briefcase onto the wooden desk. He looked anxious as he fidgeted to get his briefcase open.

"What's with Coy?" Mark asked, wheeling the gum around in his mouth.

"I've never seen him look like this.  His shirt wrinkled.   His hair is all over the place," Lisa added.

I looked down at my tattered clothes. "Maybe he woke up late, too."

The lecture didn't go as smoothly as it usually did. Dr. Coy stumbled over his words, dropped his papers, and even misspelled simple words on the blackboard. At the end of class, I gathered my things and headed down the stairs. Dr. Coy was hunched over his desk. Lisa approached him and they spoke quietly for a few moments. I watched her lips as they moved quickly, until I heard, "Psst ... psst" from someone behind me.

I refused to turn around. I picked up my pace, exited the classroom and merged with the flow of students in the hallway. But then I felt a tug at my arm. My heart raced and I turned swiftly. I was ready to pounce, but instead I silently counted to ten and waited for the pressure in my chest to settle.

"I was calling you." Marcus said in a playful tone.

"No! You were calling someone named 'Psst,'" I snapped. "My name is Jane."

"I'm sorry, Jane." His tone reeked with mockery. "I was just trying to get your attention."

"Well, you have my attention." I folded my arms across my chest.

Boothe soon emerged from the classroom and paused by the doorway. He looked briefly in our direction, shook his head, and then adjusted his position as if he was bored.

"I wanted to know if you were free this weekend. Maybe we could..."

"I've got an assignment due on Monday. I'm probably going to work on it all weekend with Lisa." I interrupted him before he could finish.

This was half-true. I did have an assignment due on Monday, but I didn't have a chance to speak to Lisa about working together. Nevertheless, from what I've seen, Lisa and Marcus seem to repel each other like water and oil. Dropping her name ensured that he wouldn't try to weasel himself into my weekend plans.

"Maybe some other time then," He said softly. "Maybe I'll catch you at the bus stop sometime." With that, he stepped by me and blended in with the other students heading to second period. I looked towards the door where Boothe stood, but he too was gone.

Each time I look at Boothe's smug expression, my blood boils. So why am I standing in the middle of a crowded hallway searching for him?

This is crazy.

## ~Jane~

### Chapter Seven: Me and Him Nuh Deh

#### {We are not dating}

Another exhausting night. It's been a week of nightmares. It was the same one every night-I run through the dark alleys and vacant grass fields as some unknown crazy person chases me.

Signs of fatigue were starting to show everywhere; my limbs felt so heavy I could barely carry my backpack and bags had formed under my eyes. Correction, there were shopping carts under my eyes.  I'm surprised that I was able to take the bus to school and arrive in one piece.

I pulled the textbooks from my backpack and tossed them into my locker. As I reached for my last book, something from behind me slammed into my shoulder, causing me to drop the math book on my foot.

"Oops," Nadya came up from behind with a wicked grin. "Accidents happen, right?"

The two friends that flanked her laughed heartily. Nadya rolled her eyes and continued down the hall.

Bullies. I hate bullies. I bent to pick up the book when another set of footsteps stopped behind me. I rose slowly, put the book in my locker, and then turned.

"I hope you enjoy your movie." It was Boothe. His jaw was clenched so tightly that the tendons stood out.

I stood staring at him for a few moments. My mind was foggy. My thoughts refused to turn over at their normal rate almost like a car engine in the dead of winter. One thing I do know, I didn't have the energy or the patience for his rotten attitude. In fact, he still hadn't apologized for the rude way in which he treated me when we last spoke by his locker.

"Aren't you afraid your girlfriend, Nadya, is going to see you talking to the 'foreigna'?"

He took in several heavy breaths, which flared his nostrils. I had clearly hit a nerve.

"Alright, I'll bite," I said finally. "What movie?"

He paused for a few moments just looking at me, his eyes growing stormier by the second. "You know what, forget it!"

"No, let's not forget it. You brought it up, so say what you came to say."

He looked up and down the crowded hallway with his fists clenched tightly by his sides. Slowly, his eyes began to transform. I held my breath as his eyes went from onyx to grey. It was mesmerizing.  Beneath his white polo shirt his muscles began to swell, filling out his polo shirt.

"You like that guy?" He stepped forward and spoke in a low, but firm voice.

"Boothe, I am really tired. I don't have the energy or the desire to..."

"Marcus! You like Marcus?" He said raising his voice.

"Where did you get that from?"

I try to avoid Marcus at all times. I ignore his advances and obnoxious comments. Yet, despite all my efforts, based on what Boothe is telling me, we are still somehow linked together. How could anyone think Marcus and me are an item?

"You're not denying it! Huh?" He shook his head, "Marcus isn't what he seems, Jane. You of all people should see this. I thought you did, until I heard that you're going out with him."

I opened my mouth to deny his accusations, but he quickly cut me off.

"You think I enjoy following you around school?" He returned to his lowered voice. "I spend most of my day making sure Marcus hasn't..." His voice trailed off as if an unpleasant thought had invaded his mind. "You know what, I don't care anymore! Do what you want. I'm done protecting you."

He turned and stormed down the hall. "It's your funeral," he mumbled over his shoulder as he slipped through the crowd.

I returned to my locker, my head was spinning. I have nightmares that leave me physically drained, Marcus, a creepy guy I can't seem to shake, and now hot-tempered, jerk Boothe who admits to stalking me. What is wrong with the boys in this school?

The space behind my eyes began to throb.

"What's up?" Kamila approached from the side. Kamila Gopal is a short Indian girl from my math class who has a head for numbers and a love for all things glittery.

"My blood pressure," I answered, rubbing my temples.

"I thought I just saw you talking to Boothe."

"You did."

"The hottest guy in school was talking to you!  His muscles. His perfect face-" she squealed. "What did he say? Tell me everything."

"He scolded me for dating Marcus. Wait, that came out wrong..."

"I knew it! It's all over the school that you and Marcus are officially an item." Kamila was grinning with excitement.

"Marcus and I are not together!" my voice was louder than I anticipated. A few students stopped and looked over. "This is unbelievable! What do I have to do to get Marcus to leave me alone?"

"Jane, you have one of the hottest and most popular boys in school after you. And now Boothe has joined in. This is every girl's daydream; well, at least it's mine."

"Why would Marcus spread such a lie?" I was horrified.

Kamila broke the seal on a new hot-pink lip gloss and smoothed it over her entire bottom lip. "I think you should go on a date with Marcus." "I don't date."

"Like you've never been on a date? Ever?" Her eyes widened. "What sixteen-year-old hasn't been on at least one date?"

I raised my hand. "Me."

"Then Marcus will be your first."

"No, he won't. I don't feel that way about Marcus. To be honest, he creeps me out."

"Okay. Well, what about Boothe?"

I paused for a moment looking absently at the textbook I had in my hand. I thought back to his piercing grey eyes and held my breath, again.

"I'm allergic to jerks," I said finally. "Whenever I'm around one, I feel like kicking them in the knee."

"You do like him," Kamila insisted.

"Clearly you are not listening. I've got to do something about Marcus,"

"Hey, guys," Lisa approached us on her way to her locker.

"I'll just pull Marcus aside." I continued, unintentionally ignoring Lisa's arrival. "Talk to him one on one..."

"Talk to Marcus about what?" Lisa's face was stern.

"She's going to tell Marcus that she's not interested in dating him because she's fallen for Boothe." Kamila answered. "Too bad I can't be around to see that. I'd love to be there for Marcus and offer him a shoulder to lean on." She applied another coat of gloss. "I've got music next period so I'll see you two later."

"I'll go with you." Lisa zipped up her backpack and slung it on her back.

"I don't think that's such a good idea. I need him to be focused on what I have to say, not on how much he hates you."

"So you're going to talk to Marcus by yourself?"

"Yes. Why are people talking about Marcus like he's dangerous?"

"People?"

"First Boothe, now you."

Lisa bit her bottom lip. "What did Boothe say?"

"Something about him not being what he seemed. None of what Boothe said made any sense." Especially the part about him following me.

"What else did Boothe tell you?"

"Why are you all of a sudden so interested in what Boothe says?"

"No reason." She shrugged and returned her focus to the contents of her locker. "I still don't think that talking to Marcus alone is such a good idea. Boothe knows Marcus, and even he warned you. Please promise me you won't go after him by yourself."

"I still don't understand..."

"Because he's dangerous," Lisa blurted. "Marcus is the reason Dr. Coy and I want you to come to our meetings." She grabbed my hand just as she had when she appeared in my dream. "We're meeting with Dr. Coy on Friday. If you come, he'll explain everything. If you still want to talk to Marcus after you hear what Dr. Coy's got to say, then I won't stop you."

"Your meetings are about Marcus?" I asked curiously.

"Him and others like him." She lowered her voice, so that only I could hear her.

"And by others like him, you mean what? Teenage boys? Is this after-school thing a sex education class?"

Lisa bit her lip. "I mean, you should come to Friday's meeting and find out. You're so curious about everything else, but you're not the least bit interested in our meetings?"

"I don't find extracurricular school work as exciting as you do."

There was sincere concern in Lisa's eyes that I had only seen once before when she told me Dr. Coy's daughter was missing.  Thinking back, I realized this was the same worried look she had given me in my dream. "Fine, I'll come."

Lisa let out a deep sigh. "Great! I'll tell Dr. Coy. Remember your promise. Don't talk to Marcus till after the meeting."

Lisa was beginning to concern me with this after-school meeting stuff.

The hallway was empty, but I was still idling by my locker. I'm going to be late for class, again.

"AAGH!" I yelled.  My loud voice echoed through the empty hall. Someone had grabbed my waist from behind and sent my heart into a frantic gallop.

"Hey, Gorgeous," Marcus whispered in my ear.

I turned to face him and he pressed my back against the cold locker. He set up a barricade with his arms. "Marcus, I don't like this." My chest began to burn and my inhaler was out of reach in the back of my locker.

"You don't like when I do what exactly?" He wore a devilish grin. "Maybe I can try something different."

The veins in his forearms rose high above his skin as his face inched closer to mine. A cold, hollow feeling gripped my chest and crept over my spine.

"I want you to leave me alone." I watched his dimpled smile shrink into a one-sided grin. "Look, Marcus I think you're an alright guy. No, that's not true. I think you're pushy, arrogant, and hard-headed, but you have the potential to be a nice guy. I just don't want anything to do with you."

"Fine, we don't have to date. We could just hang out, have a little fun."

My stomach churned as I thought about what type of fun he had in mind. "Not in your dreams. I'm not interested in you, Marcus. I've tried avoiding you, even giving you subtle hints." I ducked under his arm.  "The next time you harass me, I'm going to..."  My voice grew louder the more I thought about his audacity.

"You're not interested in me?" Marcus's expression grew dark. The coy playful smile was replaced by a bitter scowl. "You should feel lucky that someone like me is even paying you any attention." He stepped closer with each word until I was once again backed into the lockers. He stared at me with a daunting expression.

Almost instantly, his expression changed back into the calm, ever-smiling boy I recognized. "If you let your guard down, I am positive that I can make you see things my way. I can be extremely persuasive."

All the bells were going off in my body. My chest begged for my inhaler. My legs wanted to break out in a sprint. I ran my fingers over Gran's necklace. If I had gotten more sleep, my mind would've been clearer and I could have figured a way out of this situation. But instead my head was cloudy and I could barely process all the messages my body was sending.

"I know what's going on," he said, leaning forward. "Hugh."

There was nowhere for me to run.

"Boothe wants you for himself. He said he wasn't interested, even tried to talk me out of pursuing you. Do you really think he'll keep you after he's had his fun? He'll throw you away as he has all the rest. I, on the other hand, want you for much grander purposes."

"This has nothing to do with Boothe, and everything to do with you." I fiercely reclaimed a step. "I can totally see why Lisa hates you. Stay away from me."

A look of resolve, not anger, surfaced in Marcus's still dark eyes. "You're right, this is about me. I've been letting this game between Boothe and I overshadow things. Trust me, Jane, it won't happen again."

"Good. We have an understanding."

Marcus gave a one-sided smile, but said nothing. As he walked down the hall, I ran to my locker, dug through my bag and took two long pulls of my inhaler.

## ~Jane~

### Chapter Eight: Crosses

####  {misfortune, bad luck}

"Wake up. Pay attention," Gran said. "The time has come to stand up and fight. No more running."

"Gran, please tell me. Who is the person chasing me? Who is the man with the wings?" I asked.

"I'll show you." She said, pointing into the darkness.

The soiled wings of my attacker came into view as he stepped forward. He stopped just on the border between the light and the darkness. He lingered there for a while, his body exposed in the light, his face hidden by the shadow. Along his hands and stretching up to his forearms were charcoal coloured markings. I would call them tattoos, but they looked deeper. They looked like they were embedded by birth rather than imprinted by choice.

"Show yourself!" My grandmother commanded. He did not move. "Your time on earth will come to an end. It is time to go back to your maker. Step into the light so the chosen one may mark her enemy."

"Wake up. Wake up." A voice called in the distant.

I woke up to a robust woman shaking my shoulders. The bright sun stung my tired eyes.

"I was about to see..." I whispered as I rubbed my eyes.

"Di bus come," she pointed to the idling vehicle. "Wake up!"

I'd been daydreaming. My nightmares have now invaded my days. This time I wanted the dream to play out. I needed to see the face of the man who hunted me at night. I'm certain that the creature in my dreams is an angel. I am equally positive that he is no carrier of good news or divine messenger as described in the symbology books I got from the library. I think it's the exact opposite; my grandmother was the divine messenger, and the angel, well, I don't know.

I stepped onto the bus and looked around at the near empty carriage. There were a handful of students from the local public school sitting in the back.

I took my usual spot at the front of the bus, sinking low into the worn faux leather seat. On walked an older woman. She reminded me of my gran. She smiled warmly, making the delicate lines around her eyes and mouth fold. She reached into the shoulder of her blouse and pulled out a small change purse no thicker than a few sheets of paper. She moved slowly and eventually sat in the seat beside me.

"Looks like rain," she said tenderly.

Her voice was soothing. Every muscle and joint in my body seemed to relax all at once.

"Yes it does. I forgot my umbrella." I felt so relaxed that it felt like a chore to open my mouth to speak.

"Here, you can have mine." She handed me a small black umbrella.

It took a few moments for my tired jaw to open. "Where did you get this from?" My words were slurred.  My mind was foggy but I do remember that she came on the bus empty-handed.

"It's necessary to anticipate the unexpected."

Her tranquilizing voice was at odds with the fearful and tense expression in her eyes.

"I feel so dizzy." I couldn't help but lower my head towards my lap. My vision was blurred so badly, I had a hard time focusing on her face.

"That's my gift," she replied. "My voice acts like the venom of a spider. It tranquilizes the senses. But it's not my gift that's important." She reached out and touched my hand.  "Wake up, Jane. Pay attention. The time has come to stand up and fight. No more running."

My gran had said these exact words to me in my dream. "Who are you?" I pulled my hand away.

"I am one of your many..."  Suddenly a look of panic crossed her face.  "Get down!"

Right then a shattering explosion filled the bus. My ears rung. Shards of glass struck my face hard. My entire body lifted off the seat and hurled violently to the ground. There I laid face down, shielding myself from further attack. I couldn't see what was happening. I could only hear the ringing. As the ringing faded, I began to hear the desperate screams of the passengers. I opened my eyes and slowly raised my head. Millions of tiny glass fragments were scattered around me. I rolled slowly onto my back. Suspended above me, extending from the frame of the mangled bus window through the seats were large steel beams. One of the beams ran straight through the centre of my seat.

"Miss! Miss! You okay?" A deep voice called aloud.

"Help. Someone please..." I replied in a laboured voice.

"I have you. Don't worry." The voice's owner reached under my arms and began to pull me from my place on the ground.

The old woman lay motionless beside me. Blood flowed from her body. A large beam pinned her down.

"Wait. Leave me. Get her," I said, reaching for the woman. He continued to carry me from the bus. "No. Stop. Help her!"

My rescuer ignored my pleading and pulled me off the bus, leaving the old woman behind. It wasn't long before police, ambulance, and concern citizens poured onto the scene. I watched from the curb as they carried the unconscious old woman off the bus and loaded her into a gurney. I got up to follow, but staggered and fell back to the ground.

"That is quite an accident," Marcus was standing above me. "You made it out unharmed?"

I continued to watch as rescuers came running from the wreckage carrying young students in their arms.

"Jane, are you hurt?" Marcus asked again.

"I'm fine."

"Let me help you up." He grabbed my arm before I could object.

"My knee!" Marcus caught me as my knee gave way.

"So much for you being fine. There are some first aid supplies in the school office. You think you can make it?"

"The police are here. They'll take care of me."

"I think they should focus on the others. Not everyone was lucky enough to walk away with only bruises. Don't worry, Jane; I'm not going to bite."

I hesitated. Again, I had that feeling in the pit of my gut that told me to run from him.

"Look, I know we've had our little spat earlier. I apologize for carrying on the way I did. Allow me to make up for it. Let me help you."

I peered down at the blood that trickled down my calf.

"If you try any of that stuff you did earlier, I'll scream for the police." I warned.

"It's a deal"

"I can walk on my own." I decided to refuse Marcus's outstretched elbow.

We walked towards the school campus. Well, he walked, I hobbled. A few students rushed past to catch a glimpse of the scene. I looked back. The crowd of spectators had expanded. What is it about carnage that peaked people's interest?

I looked at Marcus. He was watching the crowd and smiling.

"What are you smiling about?" I asked.

He slowly turned his eyes to me. "I'm just happy that those poor people are getting the help they need." His smile was sweet and fake.

I had only stepped onto the first step leading to the school's entrance when my knee buckled. I fell to the floor, screaming in pain.

"You are so stubborn." He said, easily scooping me into his arms. He was stronger than I gave his average frame credit for.

He had bypassed the steps. "The school is in the other direction." "Where are you taking me?"

"To my car"

"The parking lot is in the other direction too."

"I parked in a different spot today." He said with a devious grin.

"Put me down or I'll scream." I struggled to free myself from his grasp.

Marcus quickened his pace and tightened his grip.

I continued to struggle. "Put me down. Now!"

"Don't make things worse for yourself. I want you conscious when you meet my father the General. If you continue to fight, its lights out," he warned.

My chest was tight. My lungs burned for air. "Marcus, I'm not joking, put me down!" I braced my palms against his chest and pushed with all of the energy I could muster. He stumbled backwards. I fell out of his arms and landed on my bruised knee. My knee pulsed in pain as the pressure on my chest heightened.

"Nice trick. You're more aware of your gift than I thought. Have you met with Dr. Coy yet? Has he invited you to join his pathetic group?"

"Stay away from me." My mind was screaming for me to run. But there was a small voice prompting me to defend myself.  It was the voice of my gran: The time has come to stand up and fight. No more running.  Guided by the small voice I braced my palms against the ground and pushed as hard as I could. The ground shook, knocking Marcus off-balance.  Instantly the pressure in my chest lightened.

I looked at my hands in disbelief. How did I do that?

"You're a natural. But you don't really know how to use your gifts do you?" He regained his balance quickly. He peered wickedly at me. A fire ignited in his eyes. "In our world ignorance is not bliss. It's death."

"You stay away from her!" Lisa yelled as she ran towards me.

"Lisa," he sighed. "You're like a biting mosquito I can't wait to crush."

I stared at Marcus's face. His boyish looks melted away like hot wax. The brown freckles that dotted his nose darkened. His brown eyes transformed to a blood red.

This is not real! This is what happens when you don't sleep, you begin to see things. I squeezed my eyes tightly. I hoped that when I opened them I would see clearly. I would see Marcus's boyish face again. But when I opened my eyes, I realized that that boy had gone. I didn't recognize the demon standing before me.

The tightness in my chest returned stronger than ever. This time it was accompanied by a strange coolness which crept up my spine the longer I looked into Marcus's eyes. His smile, now wiped from his face was replaced with a scowl. He clenched his teeth tightly as his eyes sunk into deeper pools of blood.

"You know the rules, Marcus," Lisa said angrily. "You agreed to them before Dr. Coy let you come to this school."

"When have you ever known a Nephilim to follow a Normals' rules?"

"Wha..." is all I could get out. I wanted to demand to know what was going on, but my lips quivered instead.

All at once, a gust of wind flashed before me, creating a high pillar of dust and gravel that surrounded Marcus like a tornado. He stood in the midst of the storm stumbling back and forth. Moments later when the dust settled, Marcus was kneeling on the ground with Mark standing above him.

"I got your rules right here," Mark flexed his wafer thin biceps.

Marcus laughed heartily as he slowly rose to his feet.

"Jane, get up. We have to get out of here." Lisa reached for me to take her hand.

"Lisa, your eyes..." They had transformed to grey, just like Boothe's.

"Escape first, answers later." She wrapped my arm around her shoulder. "Mark, hold him off while I get her into the school."

"Cake walk," Mark chuckled.

"You're going nowhere with my prize!" Marcus barked as he reached for me.

Lisa knocked his arm away.  Then the fury of wind held Marcus captive once again.

## ~Jane~

### Chapter Nine: The Truth

"Are you hurt?" Lisa searched my body for broken bones and wounds.

Room 77, the Ancient Civilizations classroom, looked larger without its students. The upholstered bucket seats had cracks and discolouration I hadn't noticed before.

I closed my eyes. This is not real. I'm in a dream. I'm still lying on the bench by the bus shelter. The image of that old woman crushed by a metal pole played like a horror film in my mind. I want this to be a dream. But the pain in my knee confirmed bluntly that this was all too real.

I looked at my hands. They didn't look any different than they had before, but today they had done something they had never done before. How could these hands have moved the ground and knocked Marcus off his feet?  Why did I think to put my hands on the ground in the first place?

"You said you were going to give me answers. Lisa, what's going on?" I stared at her transformed grey eyes. "Why did Marcus look like that? And your eyes, why are they grey?"

"You've never seen anything like this?" Lisa asked, grabbing my hand and examining the tracks of partially dried blood.

"I watched Boothe's eyes change, too. I asked you about it. You said you didn't know what I was talking about."

"I remember. I wanted to tell you everything right then and there. But Dr. Coy said it would have been too much for you. You would have run away. He wanted to explain it to you himself when the time was right."

"Okay. Tell me now. Why do your eyes do that?"

"Dr. Coy would do a much better job of explaining it than I ever could."

"Lisa, I don't want to hear this from Dr. Coy. I want to hear this from you, my friend."

She looked at me mournfully. After a few moments she opened her mouth to speak, but retracted when Mark casually strolled into the room.

"You okay?" Lisa asked Mark as she unwrapped a piece of gauze and cleaned the dried blood from my palm.

"Marcus wasn't prepared for all this." He laughed as he kissed his meager biceps.

"So, where is he now?" I asked.

"I let him go."  Mark answered.

"What?" Me and Lisa shrieked in unison.

"Look," Mark threw his hands in the air, "you asked me to keep him busy, that's all. I know I'm a powerful beast, but I'm not taking down any Nephs without backup."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Pass me the first aid kit in the top right hand drawer, please. I think there's a pair of tweezers in there. Jane, you have a few pieces of glass stuck in your palm. I'm going to try to get them out."

"You're lucky to be alive, Jane." Mark handed Lisa the kit.

"Lisa, tell me what's going on. Ouch! Why did Marcus look like that? Why was he trying to kidnap me?"

"He tried to kidnap you because you're one of us." An uncomfortable look returned to her face. She paused as if she was searching for more words but couldn't find them.

"Marcus looks like that because he's a dirty Neph," Mark said, curling his lips in disgust.

"A Neph? What is that?"

"They're the dirt on the bottom of my shoe. All the problems you see happening all over the world—the crime, the violence, the invention of low calorie diets—all the work of Nephs."

"Mark, stop. Let Dr. Coy explain things. At least then she won't be confused." Lisa ran her finger along my palm. Her finger grazed a piece of glass and sent a pulse of pain up my arm.

"Lisa, are you sure this girl's one of us?" Mark glanced at me briefly as he picked his fingernails with a pair of first aid scissors.

"Positive," Lisa answered. "You remember what Dr. Coy said."

"OUCH! What does "one of us" mean?

"Have you ever been wrong?" Mark asked Lisa.

"Never!" Lisa shot him an annoyed glance.

I rose to my feet in frustration. "I'm done with this. Today has been the most traumatizing day of my life: Marcus trying to kidnap me and all this stuff about "Nephs," whatever they are. And none of you intend on answering my questions. I'm going to the police. I'll tell them about Marcus. You can call him whatever name you want. I think he's crazy and needs to be locked up."

"The police won't help you." Dr. Coy appeared in the doorway. "Most of them have been corrupted by the Nephilim." He walked into the room and placed his briefcase on the desk. "We've got a lot to talk about. I'll begin by correcting you."

Dr. Coy looked worse than he did the day before. The tightly wrapped and uniformed dreadlocks that I had admired on the first day of class were now frizzy and chaotic strings. Some locks had been cut off from the scalp, while others were unbound heaps of matted hair.

For a moment, I thought about asking him what was going on. But at the moment, what was going on with me was more pressing.

"Correcting me on what exactly?" I enquired, folding my arms across my chest.

"Today is not the most traumatic day of your life, at least not in terms of overall danger and likelihood of death." He shooed Mark off his desk.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"It happened so long ago you've suppressed the memory. When you were toddler you lived in an area called Black River with your mother and grandmother. One day, when you were two you had a very dangerous visitor. His name was Aramos, otherwise known as the General. He came for one purpose only, to kill you. He came pretty close to doing it. But he did not count on your strength. Even at the age of two you were a force to be reckoned with. You were raw power. He also didn't count on the power and wisdom of your grandmother."

"I don't believe you. I would know if something like that happened." I swallowed hard.

"I was there. Back then I worked for the Eshkar Council as an investigator. I was the lead on that case. I helped you and your mother escape."

Is it possible that this was true? I know so little about my past. I've gone through life being fed lies and being shipped around like a postal package. So, I guess anything could be possible. But possible does not equal likely.

"Say for one moment, I believe this story. Who is this 'General' person Marcus said he was bringing me to?"

"General' was Aramos's military title at the time of the Great War, when he..." Dr. Coy paused for a deep breathe. "When he led an army of Nephilim town to town killing every Eshkar child he could find.  That was a defining moment in Eshkar history."

My arms fell to my side and I sank into the seat next to Lisa. "Marcus said something about me being prize for the General." A wave of dread gripped my stomach. "If what you're saying is true, then my mother really left Jamaica to get me away from this Aramos guy. Now, the man who tried to kill me is after me again." Although I had doubts and lots of questions, the story intrigued me. The story made everything in my life make sense. My mother was running from this child-killing maniac.

"In order to better understand any of this, I think we should start at the beginning." Dr. Coy opened his briefcase. "We all know the story of creation. However, we are not God's first creation, angels were. We share something special with our older cousin the angel—free will. After the first people were created, exercising their free will, some angels decided to leave heaven and descend to earth to live amongst us and to bear children with mortal women." Dr. Coy spoke as he pulled a decaying leather book out of his briefcase. He swung open its oversized, tattered cover and delicately flipped through the fragile pages. "Ah, here it is in Genesis 6:1-4," Dr. Coy announced.

"When men began to multiply on the face of the earth and daughters were born unto them, the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were beautiful; and they took them wives of all that they chose. The Nephilim were on the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown."

"The Book of Enoch goes into more detail concerning the unsanctioned union between angels and humans and the disastrous outcome that followed."

"Enoch? Is that in the Bible?" I asked. I had never heard of the Book of Enoch.

"No." He responded. "The traditional Christian canon does not recognize the Book of Enoch. It makes very incredible propositions that the conservative sect finds hard to accept. This book is found in its complete version in the Ethiopian Orthodox Christian Canon.

"Jane, to make a long story short, according to Enoch's account, two hundred angels left heaven with the sole mission of creating life in their own image. Creating children might not sound like much to you, but to a being that has never experienced that miracle it was seen as a powerful gift that us lowly creatures were undeserving of.

"The offspring of the union between angels and humans are called Nephilim, the fallen ones. Their angel fathers passed on to their children unnaturally long life, physical power, and angelic knowledge that no human was ever meant to have. It was not long before the angelic knowledge and power corrupted their human senses and led to the corruption of the entire human race. Some of our historians theorize that because of this God might have sent a global flood to wipe them out."

"So, if they were wiped out in a flood, how do they still exist?" I asked.

"We don't know. But what I do know is there are accounts of fierce, warmongering giants well after the flood. Goliath and his brothers are the most popular."

"Does it really matter how they survived?" Mark chimed in, still picking his nails. "They're here now."

"For the sake of being clear, are you saying that Marcus is one of these Nephilim creatures?" I asked.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. He is a descendant of the original fallen angels."

"So, Marcus is an immortal descendant of fallen angels?"

"Yes."  They said in unison

Not sure if I believe that. On the other hand, what other explanation is there for what happened today?

"How many Nephilim are there exactly?" I asked. The more we spoke of these people-creatures-whatever, the more fear rose from my gut and began to seize my chest. I was nervous but intrigued. This is the first time I have ever heard of these beings, yet they have shaped the course of my life.

"That's a good question. I spent the past few years coordinating with our unit in the United States trying to find some way of measuring their population. But it's hard. They use to live out in the open, now they exist in the shadows, keeping their existence a secret from Normals and Eshkars. Not to mention that some Nephilim's bloodline is so diluted with Normal bloodline that we have to question whether they can still be rightfully classified as Nephilim."

"Marcus didn't keep it a secret." I looked to Lisa. Although she didn't tell me the truth, I can see now that she tried to warn me about Marcus. I grabbed her hand and squeezed.

"Of the entire school population, there are five Eshkars and only one Nephilim. None of the other students know anything about your kind."

"Can we backtrack a little?" I now sat at the edge of my seat. "What's an Eshkar?"

"Eshkar is a Hebrew word meaning gift. You, Mark and Lisa are a part of an endangered community of people born with supernatural gifts. You are descendants of biblical ancestors granted these divine gifts to protect, warn, and fight against all that are evil. You are meant to work together as one body with the divine purpose of eliminating the Nephilim. You are an Eshkar"

"So people, I mean Eshkar, are just born this way?"

"Yes, Jane, it's inherited. You got your gift from your grandmother."

"Gran," I whispered, looking at my palms again.

"Alright, step back." Mark cracked his knuckles as he stood to his feet. "It's my turn. Seeing is believing, right? So, how 'bout a little show and tell? You in the mood for a mango? There's a tree on the other side of the campus, near Son's Auto Repair Shop."

"You're going to get me a..." Before I could finish the sentence, a strong gust of wind swept past me. I closed my eyes and shielded my face as dust and paper cut through the air.

"Here," he was suddenly standing before me and in his hand he held the heavy yellow and red fruit.

"How did you do that? Son's Auto is a fifteen-minute walk."

I sat down and examined the mango and its unique color. "I've always known I was a little different from the others. I didn't think it was because I have some sort of super-power." I chuckled as I finished the sentence. Super-powers? That sounds crazy.

But, as hard as the story was to swallow it felt good to know was a part of something. I've never felt like I was ever a part of anything.

"Lisa, you can stop looking so guilty. I understand why you didn't say anything. I would have thought you were crazy."

"So this is why Marcus called you 'Speedy.'" I handed the fruit back to Mark.

"What can you do?" I asked Lisa.

"I can sense when there is an Eshkar or Nephilim in the area. With Dr. Coy's help, I've been working on increasing my parameter."

I turned to Dr. Coy. "What can you do?"

He put the Bible back in his briefcase and let out a heavy sigh. "Nothing. My father was an Eshkar. I'm a Normal."

"I don't understand. I thought we got this from our parents?"

"It is inherited," he said, "but just like every other gene, there is no predicting who gets it. Take your family, for example. Your grandmother was an Eshkar, but the gene skipped your mother and aunt."

It hurt that Dr. Coy knew more about my family than I did. It hurt more that all these years everything I knew about myself had been a lie.  I've been living in a bubble of secrets.

"How do you keep something like this a secret?" I asked, looking at my palms once more.

"Because we have to," Lisa answered.

"There's a natural mystic blowing through the air," Mark flung his head back and began to sing loudly. "If you listen carefully now you will hear."

"Bob Marley?" I asked curiously.

"One and all must face reality now," He belted. "This might be the first trumpet, might as well be the past; many more will have to suffer."

Then it hit me, "Bob Marley was an Eshkar." The words sounded odd as they left my lips.

"Yes. He was one of the most prolific rebels against the Council," Dr. Coy added.

We were sitting in a rough circle. Lisa was still to my left and Mark was perched on the table beside Lisa. Dr. Coy moved from behind the desk and now sat to my right. For a moment, I thought of us working as a unit against evil. Then again, I couldn't envision myself fighting anyone.

"Here," Lisa said, handing me a thick black book. The cover and backing were made of smooth, matte-finished leather. It had that new leather smell that reminded me of the seats in Marcus's car. Embossed on its cover, in silver, were the letters EC. The seams creaked when I opened the cover. On the side, in thick black writing, it read: Eshkar Council Code of Conduct.

"What is this?" I looked at Lisa inquiringly.

"It's a noose," Mark answered, "with a very long rope to hang ourselves with."

I have said 'I don't understand' probably a dozen times today alone. I should have a t-shirt made. People would read the shirt, know that I am totally in the dark and automatically dumb things down.

"Don't listen to Mark." Lisa placed her hand on my shoulder.

Mark huffed.

"This is a guideline on how Eshkars should live."

"Guidelines don't come with prison sentences." Mark quipped, raising his brows.

Prison?

"Why don't you tell her about the rule against exposure?" asked Mark.

Lisa gave him an annoyed glare. "Section 1, Subsection 5 of the Eshkar Code of Conduct, administered by the Eshkar Council states that no Eshkar or Nephilim shall deliberately reveal their identity to those outside of the community."

"What happens if you do?" Mark prodded.

"Six months to a year in confinement," she mumbled. "Look," she turned sharply to face Mark, "like it or not, the rules are there for our protection."

"We should note that exceptions are made for close family members, of course," Dr. Coy added.

"Code of Conduct?" I was in disbelief.

"How to act. Where to go." Mark stroked his slender chin. "How to wipe after you've taken a-"

"It has always been the duty of the Eshkar to keep the Nephilims in check." Dr. Coy quickly interrupted Mark and shot him an annoyed glance. "About twenty years ago, the Neph population grew out of control. They were running wild in Jamaica. Crime was at an all-time high, there was civil unrest amongst the Normals, and there were overt attacks against Normals and Eshkars. The Eshkar Council sent out their military faction, called the Council Guard, to suppress the problem. I will share the details of the fight with you another time. After the uprising was suppressed, the Eshkar Council drafted a Code of Conduct meant to govern the behaviour of both groups in order to make for more amicable relations."

"In protest Bob Marley broke the Code by singing 'Natural Mystic'?"

"My hero," Mark sighed.

"Wait, why would the Council want to govern our behavior when the Nephilim are the ones who are causing all the trouble?" I asked.

"I agree with you, Jane. A growing number of Eshkar agree with you as well. They feel that the Council has grown lukewarm. They have shied away from the hard stance necessary, and have taken a more politically friendly position." Dr. Coy noted.

"The Council sounds great." I flopped back in my seat.

"I think that's enough for today." Dr. Coy seemed tired.

"What about Marcus? How do I know he's not going to be waiting for me at my house?"

"Firstly, Eshkar Investigators have been notified. They are looking for Marcus as we speak. Secondly-"

There was a sudden and boisterous knock at the classroom door that sent my heart racing.

"Boothe, you made it!" Lisa squealed as he entered the room. She leapt from her seat and wrapped her arms around him like he was an old friend.

"Who invited the traitor?" Mark asked, studying Boothe from head to toe with his eyes.

"I did," Dr. Coy gestured for Boothe to come closer.

"Yo, Boothe and the Neph are friends. Batty and bench!" Mark spat angrily. "Gweh!"

"Gweh? I'm not going anywhere." Boothe gave a chesty huff. "For a funny guy you really have a dark side. You should see someone about that?"

"I should kick your-"

"Mark! Calm down." Lisa grabbed his arm. "You're not helping."

Mark stood defiantly in front of Boothe. He looked like a small child challenging his older more physically developed brother.

"Mark has a point," I spoke up. Mark looked at me with satisfaction. "Why is he here?" I looked directly at Boothe when I spoke.

"Jane, Marcus and I are friends, but we weren't at the same time, if that makes any sense." He said, stepping around Mark.

"No, it doesn't," I wasn't about to let him off that easily.

"Marcus and I were cool before he started getting out of hand. When he started acting up, I started distancing myself. I told Lisa and Coy everything. I even tried to warn you," He said, walking towards me.

"Let me guess, I was the idiot who didn't listen and started this whole mess."

"I'm not saying that, Jane." He clenched his jaw tightly and stared at me the same way he had in the class. I watched as his eyes slowly transformed from black to grey. I was once again mesmerized.

"I've asked Boothe to take you to and from school for the next month, as a precaution," Dr. Coy interrupted.

"Why can't Lisa drive me?"

"Because I know Marcus. He doesn't take losing very well," Boothe said. "You'll be safer with me, trust me."

"That's the problem, I don't trust you." I stepped closer to Lisa. "How do I know you're not one of them?"

"I know a Nephilim when I see one. Boothe isn't one. He's an Eshkar," Lisa offered her assurance.

I dropped my arms by my side and balled my fists. "Well, I'm not going anywhere with you."

"You've got two choices, you either accept my offer of protection, or you fend for yourself. You've seen what Marcus is capable of. There are a lot more like him out there. At the end of the day, the choice is yours. Choose wrong and it's your funeral."

I hated to admit that he was right. "And exactly what are you going to do if someone attacks me, again? Dazzle them with your football skills. Or maybe you'll charm them with your winning personality."

"The last time someone got on my bad side, I ripped the doors off his car," He said calmly.

"Well, alright then." I clutched my backpack tighter and tried to hide the lump in my throat.

"Jane, before you leave I must issue you a dire warning," said Dr. Coy. "I have done a lot of research on Aramos, the General. He is a first generation Nephilim. His father was an angel, his mother a Normal."

"He's immortal," I said aloud.

"He's the leader of the Nephilim Clan. It troubles me that Marcus has risked exposure just to bring you to him. Boothe, I trust you to keep her safe."

"No one will touch her. Not while I'm around." I have to admit Boothe's confidence was reassuring

We rode home in dead silence. I stared out the window watching the buildings pass by in a blur. Between the blurs I saw flashes of the shattered bus window, the old woman and Marcus's blood red eyes. Then a memory came to me. One evening when I was frustrated by my mother's rules I decided to stay outside after the streetlights went on. I remember the panic in her face, and the desperate way she hugged me when I came inside. I didn't understand it then, but I understand now.

"Jane," Boothe paused, clenching his bottom lip between his teeth. "I'm sorry, it's my fault. I didn't do enough to stop him. I should have never let it reach this far. I didn't step up because, well it doesn't matter why, I just didn't."

"If you were really sorry, you would have said no when Coy asked you to be my chaperone," I said quietly. "I don't want or need your company."

Silence filled the cabin once again. I wrapped myself in my memories. Every weird event, spontaneous relocation, and every seemingly irrational denial my mother ever made all made sense now.

We turned off Hope Road and drove down the bubbling residential street. Night fell quickly in Jamaica. It was only 6:30 p.m., but looked like 9:30 p.m. according to Canadian standards. Within the next hour bright stars would fill the night sky.

"The other day you asked me if I was afraid of 'my girlfriend' Nadya seeing us talking together," Boothe resumed his explanation.

"The day you confessed to stalking me."

"It wasn't Nadya that I was concerned about. It was Marcus. He has this idea in his head that there is some sort of rivalry or competition going on between us."

"Sibling rivalry?"

"Exactly, except we are not siblings. If he saw us talking and had any idea that I've been looking out for you..."He squeezed his bottom lip between his teeth. "I had to treat you that way. If I hadn't, Marcus would've made it his mission to get you."

"Get me? Isn't that what he tried to do today?"

"Two years ago, Marcus and I had Biology class together. We did an in-class test. Whoever got a perfect score got to take home the class pet, some exotic bird from South America. At first, Marcus didn't care about the test, he even made jokes about how stupid he thought the whole thing was. After I won, he became obsessed with the bird. I even caught him trying to feed it chocolate."

"I thought chocolate was fatal to birds."

"It is."

"Are you saying that Marcus would have tried to kill me?"

Boothe didn't answer.

We pulled onto my street. It was close to 7:00 p.m. and the street was still busy. The kids ran up and down the streets without a thought of the danger that was out there and the killer Nephilim that lurked in plain sight. I wanted to tell them to run home and hide, but that wouldn't do any good. If a Neph wants you, he'll go after you, just like Marcus did today.

"What are you going to tell your aunt?" Boothe asked as he pulled into my driveway.

It struck me, I hadn't thought about what I would tell my family. I suspect there's no need to breakdown the existence of Nephilim and Eshkar. The question is how do I tell them what happened today? It pained me to think of how my mother would react. She would grab the next flight, pack all my things personally and ship me off to a deserted wilderness. I think I stand my best chance of survival here with others that are like me.

"Not your business," I exited the car quickly.

Boothe's move from cold shoulder to confidant was too much of a leap for me to take. He was still the friend of my enemy. I didn't just trust him.

I stood outside on the veranda for a few moments listening to the hum then zap of the floodlights as it claimed another insect as its victim. Boothe kept the car idling in the driveway. I gestured for him to leave but he ignored me. I had to go in at some point; I figured I'd best do so before the mosquitoes sucked me dry.

Maybe I didn't have to say anything. But how could I do that? How could I stand in front of Aunt Dar and pretend that today was another uneventful day. I was in an accident that could have killed me. How could I pretend that I was okay?

When I entered my aunt was reclining on the living room sofa. The tranquil voice of the local news anchor rang loudly through the quite room.

I took a deep breath. "Hi, Aunty," I said with all the cheer I could muster, which wasn't much.

"Evening, Jane," Her eyes moved slightly away from the television screen then back again. "You're late."

My hands were shaking. I took off my shoes as calmly as possible, taking deep breaths to steady my racing pulse.

"Your mom called for you earlier," she mentioned as I turned to walk up the stairs.

"I'll call her later." I didn't slow my pace.

I made it to my room without breaking down. I fell at the side of the bed and buried my face in the skirt of the sheets.

"Jane," Aunt Dar whispered as she lightly knocked on the door. "Are you okay?"

I quickly wiped my face, fanned fresh air into my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths before responding. "Yeah, I'm fine." I was disappointed that my voice shook so violently. Please don't come in. I couldn't lie to her face.

"I know something is wrong, Jane. I'm coming in."

Don't come in, please.

She slowly opened the door. I kept my focus on a small piece of unravelled thread that hung from the skirt of my sheet and bit my lip.

She crouched down and sat on the floor facing me, folding her legs like a young student. She took my face in her hands and gently lifted my chin.

"Why would mom do this?" I asked. My voice was still quivering. "How could she hide a thing like this from me?"

Aunt Dar let out a deep sigh. She knew. "Give your mom a chance, Jane. The only reason she held on to you so tight was that she was afraid of losing you. It's not easy living with the constant fear that at any moment some creature could come and take you away. This was the reality of your mother's life. She did the best she knew."

"If she wanted to keep me safe then why did she send me here?"

"Well, you can't run from destiny, Jane." Aunt Dar said with a deep sigh. "So when evil found her doorstep, she knew that it was time to let you go."

"But why didn't she tell me what was going on so that I could at least be prepared?"

"I don't know, Jane, but hindsight is always twenty-twenty. I guess in her attempts to protect you she forgot to teach you how to protect yourself." She rubbed my shoulder gently. "Christopher and I worked very hard to get you into Kingston Academy, so that you could be around other Eshkars and learn and develop your skills. Christopher's a great teacher."

"Can you teach me?"

There were a few moments of silence before Aunt Dar responded. "I'm not an Eshkar, sweetie. My mother, your grandmother Edna, had the gene but it skipped your mother and me. You're the only living member of our family to be blessed like this."

We sat on the floor for another hour as Aunt Dar told me every story she could remember about her mother. I told her about the dreams and she smiled and said that even after death gran was still protecting me.

## ~Boothe~

### Chapter Ten: Two Bull, One Pen

After dropping Jane off I headed straight home. I approached the front door and could hear through the thick, solid wood doors that there was an argument in progress. I could hear my father's thunderous voice piercing through the door. Although I couldn't make out what my parents were talking about, I had a gut feeling it had to do with me. It always has to do with me.

When I entered, my mother was standing in the middle of the foyer with her arms folded. My father stood with his back towards me, his small frame enhanced by his anger.

When my father was calm, he was a petite man standing at five foot four. But when he became angry, he grew an additional three feet, his back broadened, his arms became swollen with muscle and his hands lined with veins.

He spun swiftly to face me. His grey eyes blazed with venom. "You! You're ruining everything I've done for you! All my hard work down the drain!"

"What have I done now?" I asked, leaning against the wall. I folded my arms across my chest.

"Don't play with me boy! You think I don't know you're driving that girl around. Everyone has seen you two together!" He shouted.

"So I drove a girl home. What's the big deal?" I shifted between his face and my mother's. "She's not the first girl I've had in my car."

"You have no idea what's going on." His hands began to shake. "She will ruin you!"

It was hard to imagine Jane ruining anything. I've watched her closely since she started at the Kingston Academy. She had a sharp attitude, but that was purely defensive. Beyond the wall she put up, she was loyal to her friends, polite to strangers, and had compassion for everyone. I admired that. I admired her.

"I know what this is about. You've always liked Nadya," I shot back. "You and her dad run in the same circle..."

"This is not about Nadya. You can hang out with anyone you want but NOT that girl!"

"Her name is Jane," I became defiant. Normally, I followed my father's commandments with little opposition, mainly to keep the peace in the house. But this time I made a promise to Jane. I owed it to her. I knew what I was supposed to do about Marcus. It gnawed at me, like an unrelenting sand fly. Yet I did nothing and let Marcus hurt people and almost kidnap Jane.

"Take it easy, Henry," my mother injected.

"Claudia, I don't want my son to wind up dead because of this girl," he shot back.

"Whoa. Wait. Dead? What are you talking about?" I was confused.

"I'm talking about letting that girl lead you off the course I set for you. She is the beginning of the end," he shouted.

"Henry, calm down." My mother pleaded.

"She's not..." I started.

"Kiba!" He barked. "Shut your mouth. You know nothing about the real world."

"Henry! Your blood pressure." My mother tugged on his arm for him to stop.

He let out several deep breaths, and with each breath his frame shrunk, until he returned to his normal five foot four size.

"Mark my words," he pointed his forefinger directly at my face, "I will not stand by and watch you throw all my hard work down the drain. Stay away from Jane Miller." With that, he quietly walked out of the room.

I waited until he had vanished into his study before I approached my mother.

"Mom, what is he talking about?"

She shrugged. "Today your father got a visit from an 'old friend.'

"What did this friend look like?"

"He was about five foot ten, small eyes, shaved head."

He didn't sound like any friend I'd ever seen my father with. "Was he Eshkar?"

My mother raised her brows at me.

"Yeah, sorry. You're a Normal; you can't tell the difference." I said.

"They went into the study," she said in a hushed voice. "When they came out, your father was as pale as a duppy. I don't know what he told your father, but he has been on edge ever since." She glanced over her shoulder towards the study.

"How did he find out that I drove Jane home?" I asked curiously. "He called her Jane Miller. I never said her full name."

"You know your father."

"He had me followed."

Mom raised her eyebrows silently affirming my suspicion.

"Why am I not surprised? Things always have to go his way. The school I go to, the sports I play, and now who I hang out with. Everything has to be the way he wants it." I bit down so hard I punctured the inside of my mouth.

"That's the way it has always been. You have never argued with your father before. Is this girl worth this conflict?" She looked at me tenderly.

"I'm seventeen. I should be able to make my own decisions. I can understand if I am out there causing trouble, but I'm not. I'm trying to do the right thing. If he had me followed then he must know what happened today, and why I had to drive her home."

"That man is your grandfather and the only father that you've ever known. He only wants to protect you."

"You are the only mother I have ever known. It was his daughter, my mother, who was killed. That's exactly why I can't stand back and idly watch as the same happens to Jane. Marcus will get her if someone doesn't protect her."

My mother held my hands in hers. She gave me a proud smile. "I can't tell you what to do, son. You're old enough to understand that you have your own path to walk. As an Eshkar, you have a duty and a responsibility. Now, I'm not telling you to disobey your father; what I am telling you is to listen to that small voice inside to guide you. Unfortunately, I think your father has replaced that small voice with his own."

## ~Jane~

### Chapter Eleven: Under Pressure

About fifteen hours ago, an evil baby-faced boy tried to kidnap me. Fourteen hours ago, I was told that I was a member of a group of people born with special gifts called the Eshkars. The eyes glowing with unnatural colours of grey and red were real.

About five hours ago, I finally managed to fall asleep where I thought I would have peace. But my dreams were anything but peaceful. My sleep was tormented by a replay of the accident, hearing the sound of metal against glass, seeing the old woman's bloody and lifeless body.

At 7:00 a.m., I rubbed my sore knee and hobbled to the bathroom. As soon as I made it to the bathroom, I heard a heavy knock at the front door. I listened as Aunt Dar greeted the visitors. I leaned over the banister to see if I could get a glimpse of the person she was talking to. My eyes met hers and she motioned for me to come downstairs. I went down, giving no thought to the pajamas, fuzzy slippers and ratty hair that made up my appearance.

Their grey eyes followed me as I descended the steps. Sitting on the sofa were a man and a woman. They both sat upright and away from the sofa as if their backs were pinned to a wall. They were dressed in identical white and black uniforms. The woman's twisted hair was pulled tightly together and pinned up in an elaborate pattern of circles. The man removed his black hat to reveal his clean shaven head.

"My name is Lieutenant Millicent Grainger," the woman said. "This is Council Guard Lieutenant Glenroy Mamos. We are investigators."

"Eshkar investigators," I cleared my hoarse throat. "Dr. Coy mentioned you."

"E.I. for short," Glenroy added, his top lip twitching slightly as his grey eyes examined me from head to toe. "You're Jane Miller."

"We're here to ask you a few questions about Marcus." Millicent said, shooting Glenroy a look of caution. "We are aware that his most recent attack was levied against you. He is a high risk Nephilim offender. We need to catch him as soon as possible. We hope that any information you can give us will help with our pursuit." She opened her notepad and prepared to take notes.

"I'll tell you whatever I know." I said as I eased into the armchair.

Aunt Dar stood beside the chair rolling nervously on the balls of her feet.

I took a deep breath, "It began..."

"How long had you and Marcus been fraternizing?" Millicent cut me off as she flipped through the pages of her notepad.

"We have never fraternized," I answered. The question caught me completely off-guard.

"So you never spoke with him before the accident?" Glenroy asked accusingly.

My head was still spinning from the first question. "I did speak to him, but it was only to try and get him to leave me alone."

They both looked to each other and raised their brows. I suddenly felt a rush of heat to my face and a burning ache in my chest. I looked up at Aunt Dar whose wide eyes indicated she was just as shocked as I was.

"So, how did he know about you?" Glenroy pressed.

"How am I supposed to know?"

"Did you reveal yourself to any other students at Kingston Academy?"

"No!" The pressure in my chest was mounting. I need my inhaler.

"Are you being completely truthful with us, Ms. Miller?" Millicent asked, her grey eyes piercing me.

"I get attacked and you call me a liar? This is how the Council treats one of its own?" Yesterday, when Dr. Coy and Mark spoke about the Council, I sensed resentment in their voices. I now see why.

"What about the beach? I have confirmed reports that you did reveal yourself, in front of hundreds of Normals." Glenroy rose to his feet.

"There was nothing intentional about the beach. I was drowning."

"Are you upset, Miss Miller?" He let out a throaty chuckle and smirked. "Your eyes."

I looked away.

"Such unique, sharp eyes," he continued. "Maybe it was your eyes that betrayed you." Glenroy approached, grasped me firmly by the elbow and lifted me out of my chair. He pulled me by my elbow toward the front door. We stopped by the mirror Aunt Dar had recently hung by the doorway. I pulled myself free from his grasp.

I was struck silent as I stood in front of the mirror. I had never seen my eyes like this before. My eyes were transforming from brown to sharp silver. This is what my friends see when they look at me?

I stepped closer touching my face and eyes. My eyes were different from Lisa's, Mark's, and Boothe's. While their eyes were grey, mine were silver. How have I not noticed this before?

"Fascinating, isn't it? The full brightness of your eyes are only seen when your emotions rise." He leaned forward, holding his head just above my shoulder. "You must be a young lady of incredible power to have eyes so striking," he whispered.

Seeing Glenroy's reflection behind mine made me shudder. I turned swiftly, folding my arms across my chest. He held his hands up in surrender as he stepped back. There was something about his small round eyes and twitchy expression that put me on edge. I stepped back until my back touched the cold mirror. He stared down at me for a few silent moments. A feeling of dread washed over me, growing in intensity with each second that passed.

Millicent cleared her throat loudly, breaking Glenroy's concentration. He straightened his jacket and stepped back.

"I want you two to leave," Aunt Dar said angrily "Now! She's had a hard enough time without you two trying to make it seem like she brought this on herself!"

Millicent nodded as she rose to her feet. "We will be in touch should we have any further questions."

"Not in my house you won't!" Aunt Dar held the front door open.

"Are you close to catching Marcus and Aramos?" I asked Millicent as she passed.

"We will be in touch," she responded without breaking stride. Before exiting, she looked back. "A word of advice, Miss Miller, do not go throwing Aramos's name around so freely. If you must say his name refer to him only as the General."

"Why?"

"Nothing good ever comes to those who provoke him," she smirked.

I took a deep breath. I looked to Aunt Dar, still holding the door open. She looked like steam was about to shoot out of her ears. She hurried Millicent and Glenroy out the door. I followed closely behind. The sun was high and hot.

"What happens from here?" I asked as they made their way to their vehicle.

"For you, nothing." Millicent said, turning back. "We'll be handling the situation from here."

I walked back inside. The cool tile felt good against my burned soles. "There's got to be something I can do."

Aunt Dar bolted the door shut behind me.

I paced the floor, hoping that a light bulb would go off and I'd have the answer. Instead, I felt lost.

"Those two were rude and completely out of order. But catching Nephilim offenders is what they do. Leave it to the professionals, Jane."

"Did those two sound like they were ready to solve anything? Officer Glenroy Mamos was more concerned about the colour of my eyes. And Millicent would rather blame me for what happened."

I can't let my only opportunity to live a normal life slip through my hands. Not when I am so close. If I could just find Marcus...

"Did you hear me, Jane?" Aunt Dar's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"I do not want you going after those Nephilim lunatics. If you get hurt... if we lose you..." Tears misted her eyes.

I bit my lip hard. I wanted to protest, but I knew it wasn't a good idea. She was afraid I'd get hurt, kidnapped, maybe even killed. I was afraid, too. But there was a nagging, biting feeling inside urging me to take action. I don't know much about this Eshkar Council. Maybe they will catch Marcus and eventually Aramos. Based on the two representatives they sent to my door, I highly doubted that.

## ~Boothe~

### Chapter Twelve: The Plan

"How many times have I apologized?" I asked after a long period of silence.

Every day for the past week had been the same. I'd pick Jane up at 8:00 a.m. at her home. She'd hesitate outside the car door briefly before getting in. She was very polite, always said her good mornings and thank yous. Many days that was all she said.

"Jane, I'm sorry I didn't stop Marcus." I said curtly.

She responded with just a slight raise of her brows.

"It's time you let this go. You'd think I was the one who kidnapped you," I murmured.

"I don't blame you for what happened," She said as silver flecks began to fire through her brown eyes.

"Why are you giving me the silent treatment?"

"Not being in the mood for conversation is not the same as giving you the silent treatment. Believe me, my silence has nothing to do with you." Her eyes completed their transformation. This meant her emotions were high.

"You're a terrible liar."

She looked away and fidgeted slightly. "How do you know I am lying?"

"Our eyes are linked with our emotions." I gestured to the mirror. "Strong feelings of anger, love, sadness, or any other emotion triggers an instant transformation. Plus, lying makes you uncomfortable. When you are uncomfortable you fidget."

She looked at me through the corner of her eyes.

"The first night I drove you home, I suggested that you lie to your aunt about the accident. You did the same thing you're doing now." I pointed to her now folded arms. She immediately dropped them onto her lap.

"We've been driving around together for a week. I've noticed a thing or two. Oh shoot!" I slammed on the brakes and Jane braced herself against the dashboard as the car came to a screeching halt.

"When did that get there?" asked Jane, perplexed.

The 'that' that Jane was referring to was a road block stretching across both lanes of the street. It was made of giant tires like the ones on tractor trailers, metal scraps from old appliances and other unidentifiable odds and ends.

"Looks like some sort of protest." I suggested.

"Protest?"

"Here, when people don't feel like their voices are being heard, they take to the streets, block roads, shut down services," I explained.

"Back home they write to their member of parliament," she responded.

I let the car idle as I looked for the protestors. Oddly, there was only one person marching up and down the picket line. I looked at the wheels and metal scraps, then to the slim protestor. It's hard to imagine this man pulling in all this heavy debris into the road. He'd have to be as strong as, well, me.

I adjusted my rear view mirror and took stock of the line of cars that were behind me. No matter how he pulled this off, one thing is certain, his mission was successful. He single handedly brought the traffic on one of the busiest roads in Kingston to a grinding halt.

"I going to see what's up with this one man army," I said as I exited the car.

Behind me, a few others had exited their cars as well. They were angry and heading straight towards the protestor. He's lucky I was the first to arrive.

The protestor was a tall, slim man with a narrow jaw line and a straight nose. He wore a three piece grey suit. His jacket, vest and shirt were pulled out and unbuttoned. The man's arms and legs twitched as he chanted his slogans. In between his chants, he blinked wildly as he searched his surroundings.

"You alright?" I approached him slowly.

"Injustice!" he yelled, shaking his fist high in the air. "Corruption!"

I looked back. A small angry mob was quickly drawing near.

"You're blocking one of the busiest roads during the busiest time of the day. A lot of people aren't too happy about that." I pointed to the fast approaching mob.

"They took my house and my land. My wife is gone. My children..." He shouted fiercely.

"Who took them?" I had a suspicion about the 'who' he was referring to. But then again, there is a lot of evil in this world, not all of them are Nephilim.

He opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by the mob's shouts.

"You better move these scraps from the road. I'm late for work." A woman in a black skirt suit yelled. "You don't look like you can compensate me for my lost wages, so you had better move this garbage."

The protestor clenched his teeth. His nostrils flared. "Injustice! Corruption!" he shouted as he resumed his march up and down the picket line. "I cannot and will not stop!"

An angry murmur rose from the crowd.

"If you can't hear you must feel!" a man said as he searched the ground. He soon found a steel pipe and charged for the protestor.

I stepped in between them. "Put down the pipe and return to your car. In fact, everyone return to your cars," I shouted to the crowd. The crowd sneered in reply.

"Oh," the man said, waving the pipe. "You two are in this together? Both of you deserve a good beating!" With that, he swung the steel pipe.

The pipe connected with my forearm. I thought about feigning that I was in some sort of pain, but it was too hot outside to be playing games. So, I let out a bored sigh instead. This made the man even angrier. He raised the pipe with both hands and brought the steel pipe down toward my head. I grabbed the pipe before it made contact. I pulled it from his grasp and bent the straight pipe in half.

I held the pipe up to his face and watched as his eyes grew wide. "This man clearly needs help," I said, gesturing to the protestor. "So please, everyone get back to your cars." I threw the bent pipe on the ground. "Find another way to get to wherever you're going."

I must have scared the crowd because they ran like someone was chasing them. Everyone, except one. The man who had picked up the pipe stood frozen, staring at me with his mouth wide open, and his eyes filled with embarrassment and anger.

"Look," I said putting my hand on his shoulder. He swallowed hard but still attempted to maintain his tough demeanor. "I know this is an inconvenient situation. But hurting him is not how you deal with it." I squeezed his shoulder gently. His collar bone was like a twig in my hand. I could snap it with just a flick of a finger.

He grimaced. I kept my eyes on his, watching as he went from tough to tender.

"This man needs help, not harm." I said, releasing him.

He nodded painfully then ran back to his car. I turned back to the protestor.

"How did you do that?" He gripped his jacket nervously. "You're one of them, aren't you?"

"Never mind that. You need to go home. If you want to protest, write a letter to your member of parliament. Blocking a major road during rush hour is going to get you beaten up."

He nodded nervously.

Piece by piece we moved all the scraps from the roadway, until the path was clear. I made sure he got back to his vehicle safely then returned to mine.

"Sorry that took so long," I said as I entered. I turned the air conditioner on high and let the air blow on my hot face.

"It was nice of you to help that man," Jane said, looking at me from the corner of her eye.

"Someone had to." I put the car in drive and raced towards school. That ordeal knocked us back about twenty minutes. We're missing Ancient Civilizations for sure.

"You never struck me as nice," she raised an eyebrow as she spoke.

I turned to face her. "I must be nice. I'm driving you around."

"You're not doing this out of the goodness of your heart. You're doing it because you were told to."

"Ungrateful," I mumbled. "You have no idea what I have to put up with, all because I've decided to drive you."

"What do you put up with?" She asked curtly.

I grit my teeth. "Nothing."

"No, you brought it up," she folded her arms. "Now I want to know. What about me do you have to 'put up with'?"

"It's not you."

"Oh," Her arms dropped into her lap.

"My adopted father has done everything in his power to keep me out of the Eshkar life. In walks Jane Miller and suddenly everything he has worked for is gone. You can imagine his reaction."

The cabin got quiet.

"Sorry," she said finally. "I didn't know."

"Well, now you do." My reply was cold.

The cabin got quiet again. Through the corner of my eye, I watched as she pulled the chain from under her shirt and ran her finger over the pendant.

"You're adopted?" She asked.

"By my grandparents."

"What happened to your birth parents?"

"My mother was killed when I was a baby. I don't know anything about my father."

She looked up at me. Her eyes were silver. "We have something in common. I never knew my father either. He died when I was a baby. My mother raised me on her own."

"Your mom did a good job."

"Aside from the smothering, the lying, and paranoia, she did okay."

I chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"You mom sounds like my father."

"No one is like my mother. Once I asked to go on a field trip to the zoo with my third grade class. She took one look at the permission slip, then packed us up and moved cities."

I couldn't help but snicker. "I got one better. When I was ten, I made friends with another Eshkar. My father found out and father moved us to England."

She looked down at her hands. "My mother spent the last fourteen years lying to me about who I am. My life has been turned upside down, again. I want so badly to be a normal teenager, with normal teenage problems. I thought coming to Jamaica and Kingston Academy would give me that. But that's never going to happen, thanks to my mom. I want a normal, uneventful life."

This girl and I were not so different. Our lives were inverted images of one another. She was robbed of a normal life. I was robbed of an Eshkar life. She lived without her father. I had to live without my mother.

"You'll have a normal life, I promise," I watched her sullen face.

"You can't promise something you can't give," she replied, her face still fallen.

"If I could give it to you, I would."

"Why?"

"Because I know what it is to feel incomplete."

The cabin grew quiet again. Jane flicked her finger against her pendant. Her eyes stormed.

"You were Marcus's friend. Did he tell you where he was planning on taking me?"

I shook my head.

"Did he ever talk to you about the General?

I shook my head, again. The truth was I didn't know much about Marcus. Ignorant bliss I guess. But I did know about Aramos the General, every Eshkar knew. But I wasn't in a hurry to scare her with the stories, she'd already been through enough.

"Suppose someone wanted to find the General, where would this person begin looking?"

"I can't think of any reason a sane person would go looking for that kind of trouble." I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.

"Because I realize that Marcus was just the foot soldier carrying out a command. The real evil is Ara..., the General. So why waste time fighting with the branches when I could cut the tree down from the source."

"Cut the tree down?" I was in shock.

"You just finished telling me how much you wanted to give me a normal life," she said mockingly.

"This is not what I meant. Clearly, you have no idea who he is. He is the destroyer of cities. He's the killer of not only men and women but also children." I gripped the wheel tighter with each word. "I can't believe you would think of doing something so stupid. You can forget that idea. I won't let you do it."

"Let me?" Her eyes narrowed. "I don't need your permission. I am so sick of everyone trying to hide me away for 'my protection.' What good has been done so far? The General is still out there and no one is doing anything about it."

"What about the Council's investigation?"

"The EI's think it's my fault, that I somehow created this whole mess."

Aramos is not a character to mess with. His cunning and total disregard for life is what allowed him to live so long. I had to think of something quickly, or this headstrong girl was going to run head first to her death. Maybe she was right, she didn't need protecting. What she needed was a good dose of the truth.

"You never grew up an Eshkar, so you've missed all the bedtime stories, so let me fill you in. He creates armies by mating with Normals. He uses his army to prey on the desperate, leaving behind nothing but carnage and death. He stirs up hatred and anger among Normals then sits back and watches as they destroy the land and kill their own. Whenever they talk about evil, violence and corruption, it's him they're talking, without even knowing it."

She looked up at me from the corner of her eye. "Here's the million dollar question: why would the destroyer with this power care about one sixteen-year-old girl?"

"I don't know."

"There is only one person who can answer that question, and that's the General himself."

"Jane, I know you are not that stupid..."

"What did you just call me?" She barked.

"I said you were not that stupid."

She sat silently, twirling her fingers around her pendant. "So what do you suggest I do at night when every bang, every creek, makes me think that a Nephilim is right outside?"

"You call me," I said, pulling her hand from her pendant. Her Tamarind skin was soft and cool.  He fingers were thin and delicate.  She quickly pulled her hand away and I returned to my steering wheel. "I'll stay up with you."

Her cheeks flushed. "I can't ask you to do that."

"Why not?"

We pulled into the school's busy parking lot. A few noisy students walked by the car door, stealing a curious glance through the window. Their nosey expressions sparked a memory of me looking through an old dirty window at the Eshkar Council headquarters. An idea began to unfold.  "There might be something we can do."

"Boothe, I am not calling you at 2:00 in the morning because I hear a twig snap outside my window..."

"Will you hear me out?"

She gestured for me to continue.

"When I was young, my dad took me to this library somewhere out in Port Royal. He said it was some sort of archive. There were all sorts of old books about the Eshkar history. I'm thinking that if it has our history, maybe it has a bit of Nephilim history as well. Maybe there's something in those books connecting you and Aramos." It wasn't much, but maybe it would be enough to satisfy her.

"Maybe I can find clues of where he's hiding."

"We are looking for the answer to your question, the connection between you and Aramos. That's it. We take what we find and hand it over to the E.I. Let them take Marcus and the General on."

Suddenly, her eyes brightened. "Port Royal? My cousin Kevin mentioned that place."

"It's the Eshkar Council headquarters for the entire Caribbean."

The silver sparks in her eyes flared. "How do I get there?"

"Um, this plan is still in the idea stage. We should consult Coy on this. On the outside the headquarters it looks like an old building. But that's a deliberate attempt to ward off Normals. Don't get it twisted, no one can just stroll into their archives."

"How did you get in?"

"My father was the Council Chairman back when Coy was an E.I. To answer your next question, my father will never help us get in. I'm going to try my best to make sure he knows nothing about it, which is going to be a challenge. Money buys you a lot of spies."

"Coy was an E.I. Maybe he'll help us." She said enthusiastically.

As we stepped out of the air conditioned car and into the morning heat, I remembered something my adopted mother told me. She said that we each have a purpose, the reason we are placed on this earth. For some, that purpose may be as grand as fighting for your country; for others, it may be small, like smiling at a cashier. At the end of the day, each purpose is equally valuable, equally important.

Watching Jane, I realized that my purpose maybe to protect her. But this headstrong girl won't make that an easy job.

"I'll wait here for you after school." I said as we entered the building.

I didn't want to leave her side. It felt like without me next to her something horrible would happen. Handcuffing her to my wrist won't work. She enjoyed her independence too much. I'll have to settle for watching and keeping her safe from a distance.

She started down the hall but stopped after taking a few steps, turned and walked back to me. "Can I ask you a favour? You can say no. Can you help me speak to Coy?" She asked. "You could tell him what you told me about the archives at Port Royal."

"Sure."

She let a small smile escape. "I think I saw him cross the hallway. Maybe we can catch him before class." She grabbed my wrist and hurried down the hall.

The hallway was full of students gawking and whispering as we made our way through the crowd. Midway down the hall Nadya stepped out in front of me, forcing me to make an abrupt stop. Jane lost her grip on my wrist.

"Boothe Baby," Nadya cooed. Her fruity fragrance smelled sour. "I haven't seen you in over a week."

I looked above the crowd searching for Jane's dark ponytail. She stopped briefly and glanced at me over her shoulder. Then she quickly lowered her silver eyes and pressed forward through the crowd.

"Been busy," I said, keeping Jane in view.

"That's okay. There's time to make it up to me." She said, batting her mascara-caked lashes. "What you doing this weekend?"

"Busy." My jaws were clenched. Jane stood before Coy now, they exchanged a few words and then he walked with her to a private nook a few doors down.

"You've been too busy for a while now," Nadya said, folding her arms across her chest. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for me to explain myself.

"I've had a lot to do, Nadya. In fact, you're keeping me from doing something important right now." I stepped away from her, but she grabbed the sleeve of my shirt and tried in vain to pull me back to her.

"Does that 'something' have to do with that foreigna?" She twisted her lips into a pout. When she looked at Jane, venom emanated from her eyes. "You two best friends now?"

"Her name is... forget it! I don't want her name coming out of your mouth."

"I don't like that girl. Which means you shouldn't either. You know what she did to me at the beach. You're hanging out with my enemy. How do you think that makes me look?"

"Looks like I don't care."

Nadya's eyes opened as wide as they could. She opened her mouth to speak but I had already moved away. I could hear her friends gathering around her and squabbling about how much I'd changed.

I made my way to Jane's side. She was in the process of describing the plan. Her eyes were bright with optimism. Joining the conversation, I added information where I could and he listened intently. When we were finished, he said he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.

At first I didn't think he was serious. I stood staring at him, waiting for him to say he was joking.

"I don't understand," Jane said finally. "You can't or won't help?"

"In addition to the secrets of Eshkar history and culture, the archives also have information on every Council agent, chairman, and board official. If any of that information got out, it would be detrimental to the Council. What on earth makes you think they would allow you to go in there?" Coy asked furiously.

"I've been there with my father," I added.

"I see." Coy pulled his lips together. "Boothe, as the Chairman's son you had a very rare exception. Jane, if there is any information about the General in the archives, they already know about it."

Jane folded her arms across her chest. "I'd rather look for myself. They can give me a chaperone to make sure I don't walk out with their secret information..."

"The archives are not open to public viewing," Coy barked. "You can't get in."

"We could if we had second level clearance." I looked over at Jane's dejected expression. "Talk to some of your old friends who work at the Council, see if they can pull..."

"No!" Coy shouted. He took a deep breath, and then calmly looked at Jane. "Please, I am urging you, leave this manhunt in the hands of the E.I. You are not equipped to deal with the problems you are getting yourself into."

My arms began to throb as blood pulsed through my muscles. The sleeves of my shirt grew tight around my biceps. Dr. Coy continued to drone on about the Council changing its rules and tightening security around Port Royal and the overwhelming odds against us actually finding anything useful there. He said the Council had grown increasingly sensitive about its relationship with the Nephilim and had adopted a role of mutual acceptance, provided the Council's rules were not broken. The more he talked, the worse I felt. I took a few deep breaths and attempted to calm my body down.

"It's not like it was in the past when Nephilim were fair game for any Eshkar," he explained. "The Council has created an order; rules on how Nephilim are to be treated, both the innocent and the guilty. They will never allow you to disrupt that."

"They afraid of retaliation?" Jane was frustrated.

"We all are. Those were very dark days. Any hesitation I feel is because of the delicate nature of this situation."

"Which is code for keep my nose out of it? The council care more about appeasing some warmongering half angel, than its own people. How many people need to be run out of their homes, hunted and killed before they decide to take a stand?"

Coy took a deep breath and gripped Jane's shoulders. "You have been through a lot," he spoke to her tenderly. "You are not the first to suffer and unfortunately you are not likely to be the last. I am asking you, on behalf of all those who care about your safety, please leave this to the Council to deal with. My sources informed me that what has happened to you and the Normals on that bus has shaken up the Council leaders. The Chairman himself is directing the inquiry."

He squeezed her shoulder and looked deeply into her eyes as a concerned father would. She looked down, her eyes filled with silver fire. "Second period class starts in a few minutes. I understand if you need a few moments to yourself." He released his grip on her shoulder. "Boothe, take care of her."

Coy picked up his briefcase and walked into the classroom. Jane and I lingered in the empty hallway, walking slowly up and down the corridor. I wanted to say something to comfort her, something to let her know that everything is going to be okay. But I couldn't bring myself to lie to her. It wasn't going to be okay.

Instead of heading to class, we stepped outside. I leaned against the wall and watched as she ran her hand along the column. A gentle breeze picked up a stray strand of her hair and whipped it around her chin.

"Thanks for having my back with Coy," she said, leaning against one of the pillars. Her eyes were soft brown now. She must have gotten over this disappointment a lot better than I have.

"I don't believe this," she spoke to the wind. "I thought for sure he was going to help us."

"Me too."

"When I first mentioned Port Royal, he had a look in his eye. You should have seen it. He's definitely hiding something." She turned to face me. Her brown eyes narrowed. "I think the Coy and the Council is hiding something and I'm going to Port Royal to find out what it is."

## ~Jane~

### Chapter Thirteen: I Went Shopping for Callaloo and All I Got Was this Lousy Migraine

Unlike the farmer's markets back home, the vendors at this local market sold more than just fruits and veggies. They sold everything from local produce to clothing, shoes, and kids toys. It was a one-stop shop. There were rows and rows of tables piled high with products.

The vendors that got the most customers were the ones that created a "store" using an old trailer, like the ones you hitch to a truck. They painted the walls of the trailer white, and somehow strung up lighting. It was genius. I guess this is what they meant when they say necessity is the mother of all inventions.

I watched as Aunt Dar picked through a pile of tubers labelled "yellow yam." She'd pick one up, frowned, and then threw it back in the pile. Each yam looked the same as the last to me. She picked up a large L-shaped piece and pulled out a small paring knife she kept on her key chain. She cut the end of the yam, revealing its moist yellow flesh.

"I'll take this one." Aunt Dar said to the vendor, who didn't look happy that Aunt Dar had cut her produce. "Give me that hand of banana and that pumpkin...no, not the fluxy looking one, the good one right there."

"So Christopher said no?" Aunt Dar asked as she handed the money to the vendor. "I'm sure he had his reasons. Do you want some plums?" she pointed to a small bag of bright red balls that reminded me of cherry tomatoes.

"No thanks. I know that there's a lot more going on than Dr. Coy's telling me." I kept my voice low. "Tomorrow will be three weeks since the bus accident happened. I have tried to call Millicent and Glenroy. Neither of them has returned my call. Everything is at a standstill. I don't know what to do."

Aunt Dar bought the small bag of plums and threw one of the small red balls into her mouth. "Exactly what was your plan?" she asked as we strolled through the busy market.

There were people coming and going in all directions. I dodged, bobbed, and weaved my way through the traffic. It was a struggle to keep up with Aunt Dar's pace.

"Boothe mentioned that there is an archive at Port Royal.  I was hoping that I could get in, see if there's anything in the Council records that can help me understand why the General is after me."

Aunt Dar came to an abrupt stop. She took in a laboured breath before turning to face me. She placed her hands on my shoulders and looked somberly into my eyes.

"Your life and your safety is more important to me than my own. If you go searching for this connection, I'm not sure you'll like what you find." I could see her eyes beginning to moisten.

"Sounds like you have something to tell me," I said, holding her gaze.

She lowered her eyes and forced a smile. "If you get one scratch while going somewhere you are not supposed to go, your mother will fly down to Jamaica and wring my neck." She then picked up her bag and resumed her course through the market.

"I don't think you and mom understand. This was supposed to be my chance at a normal teenage life."

I didn't think it was possible, but the crowd grew thicker as we moved closer to the centre of the market.

"You can still have that if you leave this issue to the Council."

Aunt Dar continued to warn me about the dangers of taking on this 'issue' as she called it. Leave it to the Council. She must have said those five words at least seven times. That seems to be what everyone is saying. Leaving something this big to that nonchalant Council doesn't work for me.

"Do you mind if I stop by Lisa's after this?" I cut Aunt Dar off mid-sentence.

"You two have weekend plans?" She asked, turning to the table of produce in front of her. She picked up a few potatoes and placed them on a scale.

"Yeah, we're going to do some homework." I leaned against the table and the vendor shot me an angry look. I looked down and realized that I was leaning against his handmade sign that announced a deal on cabbage and carrots. I quickly straightened it and raised my hands in apology.

My eyes met Aunt Dar's. "You're lying."

"How did you..." I began, then stopped myself when I realized that I was fidgeting. I immediately dropped my hands to my sides.

"Sorry. I don't want to lie. But I know if I tell you what I'm really going to do you're going to say no. Aunt Dar, I'm sorry, I can't leave my life to someone else."

"Jane..." she pleaded.

"The last fourteen years of my life have been left to my mother and they were a mess," I blurted.

Aunt Dar looked shaken. Seeing her sullen expression made me want to take the words back.

"Your mother..."

"Did the best she could. I know."

Aunt Dar gave a shaken sigh then cleared her throat. "I'll drop you at Lisa's after I get a few more things."

We stopped at a few more stalls where she bought seasoning and herbs and a bunch of other things I couldn't identify. The sun was high and hot. A full-hipped woman walked by carrying an umbrella to shade herself from the sun. It was a brilliant idea. Maybe the next time I head out here I'd do the same. As she passed, I thought I saw a flicker of something red in my peripheral vision. I spun around so quickly I cricked my neck. As I rubbed the sore spot on my neck, I turned in circles, looking for any sign of a Nephilim. Fear ran down my spine as my thoughts immediately turned to Marcus. Did he return to finish what he started?

"We are down to the last two items," Aunt Dar announced.

While she focused on her shopping list, I examined the faces of everyone around me, the young, the old, the shop vendors, even the children. Am I seeing things? After a few moments, and realizing that no one around me was paying me any particular attention, I began to breathe, again.

"You're down to two items. Good, I'm starting to melt."

"You have any Callaloo?" Aunt Dar asked a vendor.

"No. But we have garden egg and..." he continued to speak as he disappeared under the table to search for more produce he could offer.

I must have looked crazy spinning around like that. This situation is causing me to unravel. I have to get a hold of myself, take back my sanity.

"I think I saw a sign advertising Callaloo at one of the stalls near the entrance. I can go get it." I said eagerly.

She gave me a long, worried glance before putting money in my palm.

"Look at the leaves, they should be green, full and fresh, no brown spots or dried corners. The stalk should be firm to the touch, but not too thick, that could mean that it's old," she explained.

"Got it," I forced a smile.

Pushing any lingering thoughts about a Nephilim presence in the market out of my mind, I attempted to focus my attention on the job at hand—buying a fresh bunch of Callaloo. There was only one big problem, I had no idea what Callaloo looked like.

This could either be a proud or an embarrassing moment depending on what I returned with. Frankly, if I brought back Callaloo, instead of some other greenery, I'd do a victory dance.

"I'll come over as soon as I'm done here. Jane, make sure they give you back the right change," she reminded before turning back to the vendor.

Every inch of this market was packed. I stepped around a few people and jumped out of a moving cart's way to get to the table where I had seen the sign. The Callaloo sat in a tall white bucket as if it was freshly cut flowers. The long stalks of the vegetable were layered with broad leaves the colour of fresh grass. I looked carefully at each leaf as the vendor picked through her stalks. Finally, she emerged with a lovely bouquet of healthy greens.

I handed the vendor the money. I hadn't yet released the bills when a sudden movement to my right caught my attention. I looked over my shoulder and saw Nadya's signature brown dyed hair. She had her back to me and the phone to her ear. She was standing close to someone in a dark cap with short brown curls spilling out from the cap's edges.

I know that sometimes all it takes is one person to change the nature of a relationship by being the bigger person and extending an olive branch. I'd already tried to be that person. So, I turned back around, held my Callaloo firmly in hand and waited patiently for my change.

I glanced at Nadya one last time; she was applying a fresh coat of lip gloss to her already plastered lips. There was something odd about this scene that I couldn't quite catch. It was like that game where you're given two identical pictures and you had to figure out what was different. It was always something small like a missing line or an extra petal on a flower. I was never particularly good at that puzzle. I'd eventually find all the differences, but it usually took me awhile.

It wasn't that difficult to tell what was different about Nadya though. I knew her type. I met a new Nadya at each new school I attended. So I knew it wasn't her made up face or fried and dyed hair. It wasn't the three inch heals she decided to wear on this rocky and uneven terrain. It was her. Why is the patty princess at the market mingling with us foreignas and common folk?

When I turned back to get my change from the vendor, I was struck by the sudden appearance of a thin, short, hairy man.  He stood hunched over a table where he roughly sorted through a pile of tomatoes.  He reminded me of a wild dog. He had a scraggly beard, each hair sticking out like the course bristles of a brush. Every hair in his eyebrow went off in its own direction. As he picked up and tossed a tomato, I realized that the thick bristly hairs were also on the back of his hands.

"Can you hurry?" I asked the vendor.

I watched him carefully through the corner of my eye. I needed to see his face. Were his eyes red like Marcus'? Was he a Nephilim? My heart started to race.

Getting a glimpse of his eyes was not going to be easy since he kept his head hung low. He caught the attention of the vendor and a few nearby shoppers when he began to squeeze the tomatoes between his narrow fingers. I watched as the red juice ran through the seams of his tight fist. Then suddenly, he stopped. On the table, he had made a small hollow circle surrounded by a mound of tomatoes. He smiled hungrily as he reached into the centre and rested his hand on a perfectly round blood red tomato.

"I've seen you somewhere before," He said without looking up. His voice was deep and abrasive. It reminded me of steel wool against an iron pot.

"Excuse me," I said to the vendor, "forget the change. It's okay."

The vendor was exchanging money with a woman from the neighbouring stall and motioned for me to wait. My mind screamed for me to run.

"Aren't you curious as to how I know you?" The dog-man continued. He tilted his head, allowing me a look at his eyes. His eyes were wild, but not red. They looked yellow as if he had a bad case of jaundice. There was something especially eerie about his black dilated pupils against the yellow backdrop. He raised the tomato to his nose, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"If you are talking to me, the answer is no," I responded curtly. My chest began to burn like I had a sudden case of heartburn, except it felt like it came from somewhere far deeper than my chest. I searched my pockets for my inhaler.

"I've seen you in a picture." His lips retracted to reveal sharp canine teeth as they pierced the tender flesh of the tomato.

"This one," he said, holding up a candid shot of me standing beside Boothe's car.

This picture had been taken on school grounds.

"Where did you get this?"

He curled his clawed fingernails around the picture crushing it in his hand.

Just then, the shop owner came around the table holding a broomstick high in his hand. He yelled at the hairy man for stealing his tomatoes and demanded payment for his entire stock of damaged goods.

The hairy man looked back at the vendor and pulled back his lips giving him a complete view of his razor sharp teeth. There was a low growl that rose from his chest, like one a dog gives as a warning he's about to attack. He wrapped his hand around the edge of the table and with one swift movement flipped the table into the air. Carrots and sweet peppers flew high into the air and everyone began to scream and scramble for cover.

I was off running before the table hit the ground. I ran hard, in no certain direction. But no matter how hard I ran, and in which direction I turned, I could hear the low growl of the hairy man panting behind me.

His eyes didn't change colour was all that ran through my mind as I took sharp turns through the chaotic market. His eyes didn't change colour.

My chest burned but I couldn't stop. The hairy-man was close. Every time he growled the hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge. I took a few quick lefts and a sudden right and ducked behind a large blue plastic sheet that covered an empty stall.

My asthma was raging. I frantically searched for and found my inhaler. I took two deep pulls but nothing happened. The pressure against my chest felt like it would crush my lungs.

I peeked around and spotted him a short distance away. He was on all fours sniffing the ground like a wild dog. He looked in my direction and charged ahead. I didn't have time to sit and allow the asthma medication to work. I took off running.

He was close behind me, moving forward using a combination of his legs and arms to propel him. I turned down a narrow strip lined with unattended stations. Standing in the middle, twirling her hair as she talked on the phone was Nadya. I tried to slow my momentum, but it was too late to avoid the collision. I ran right into her. We rolled together along the ground and stopped at the base of a table. I rolled over onto my stomach, searching frantically for any signs of the hairy man. Not seeing him, I carefully rose to my feet.

Nadya on the other hand jumped up quickly and began dusting the dirt off her clothing. "Foreigna!" She seethed as she removed a twig from her hair.

"Nadya, run! Get out of here now!" My voice was hoarse and breathless.

"You are nobody to be giving me orders," she scowled.

"Stop being so stubborn! If you stay here you'll get hurt."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Nadya, just stop. Don't you see what's going on here?" I was sincerely surprised. "The market is empty. People have abandoned their stalls and all their produce. Ask yourself why."

She looked around for a moment taking full stock of the barren pathways. Panic suddenly registered in her eyes. She blinked rapidly as she folded her arms across her chest.

"I see exactly what's going on," she said, curling her top lip. "I see right through your innocent damsel in distress routine that Boothe fell for. Mark my words, foreigna, this is not over."

She stormed away cursing loudly and continuing her threats of retaliation. Any threat Nadya spewed was nothing compared to what was chasing me.

I had to get out of the market. I should have followed Nadya. She has probably reached the exit by now. I ran down various pathways, turning corners and ducking under vacant stalls hoping to stumble on a way out. I stopped to catch my breath when I reached a small clearing at the corner of the market. The space was no bigger than an alley between two buildings. There were no stalls in this area, just a brick wall on my right and the back of a trailer on my left. Blocking my exit was a large fence with barbed wire spiralled around the top. I could see freedom on the other side of the fence. That barbed wire turned my potential freedom into a death trap. I turned to leave but the hairy man, still hunched on all fours, blocked my exit. He growled, exposing his sharp weapons that passed for teeth.

I swallowed the lump of terror that rose in my throat. "Please don't do this," I pleaded.

He crawled towards me, slowly. He had a cruel but satisfied expression as he growled. "The reward money is mine. The praise is mine."

The burning feeling that began by the Callaloo stall intensified. My chest felt like a hot pressure cooker in which the steam had been building without release. I fell to my knees, bracing my hands on the ground. The soil felt soft and welcoming, pulling me in deeper. My mind felt calm and free. I rubbed my palms through the rich dirt and allowed the tranquil feeling to take over. As I clenched my fists around the soft earth, the ground mimicked my movements rolling up like a carpet. I released my fist and the ground rolled like tidal wave toward the hairy man. He staggered back, stunned.

He let out a low, chesty growl and lunged forward. Instinctively, I pulled my arms over my face. The ground again followed my movements. Two large boulders formed from the hard earth. They came together forcefully, crushing the hairy man in the middle. He let out a long, painful whimper then fell limp. I relaxed my arms. The ground relaxed, falling into piles of loose dirt. My chest felt better. The pressure was gone.

I passed the hairy man lying on the ground. Hesitantly, I kicked his foot to make sure he wasn't getting up.

"Jane!" Aunt Dar yelled as she ran toward me. "I lost you in the crowd," she said panting. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay? What happened?" She hugged me with both panic and relief. "Let me look at you."

"I'm okay."

The hairy man still held the photo of Boothe and me in his lifeless hand. I carefully pulled the photo free and shoved it in my pocket.

"We shouldn't be here when that ugly thing gets up," she scowled at the creature.

We blended in with a crowd of Normals ducking out of the market just as a group of uniformed police officers entered the market with guns drawn. I wonder what they'll make of the creature they're about to find in the back alley.

"Let's get to Lisa's," Aunt Dar said when we reached the car. "We can call Christopher from there. I don't like what's going on. Not one bit."

Lisa lived in a bright yellow house on a quiet street on the outskirts of Kingston. The neighbourhood looked like an ad from a magazine. Each house was painted with bright tropical colours. Homes painted red, blue, and lime green dotted the street. I had never seen anything like this in Canada.

Before my hand rose to knock on Lisa's door, the door swung open. It was a young boy, about twelve years old. He was chewing on something dark and sticky. I saw dark flakes between his teeth as he churned the candy in his mouth. He immediately hollered for Lisa who quickly skipped down the steps. She ushered us in and gave me a questioning look about the presence of my aunt. She introduced us to her father, a tall, lanky man with thick, more salt than pepper hair. She formally introduced us to the boy who answered the door, her younger brother, David. He eyed us suspiciously before throwing another candy into his mouth.

"Do you have a phone I could use?" Aunt Dar was wringing her hands nervously.

Lisa's father walked with her into the other room. As soon as they disappeared, I pulled Lisa close and told her what had happened in the market.

"His eyes weren't red like Marcus's," I shared. "He wasn't a Nephilim."

"Wha..." Lisa was silenced by a small onlooker.

Her brother stood in close proximity, chopping his candy hard and staring at me.

Lisa gave him a frustrated glance and directed me upstairs.

Upstairs Mark and Boothe were sitting by the window chatting and comparing cell phones. Lisa pulled me right in front of them.

"Put the toys away, boys. You have to hear this. Jane, tell them what happened."

I recited the story, again. Boothe got up and started pacing before the story ended.

"Someone from inside the school had to have taken this photo." I pulled the crumbled photo of Boothe and me from my pocket.

"Marcus probably took it," Mark suggested, leaning back against the window.

"Yeah, you're probably right." I sat down next to him. It sickened me to think that Marcus could have been close enough to me to take a photo.

I buried my face in my hands and replayed the images from the market to see if there was anything that reminded me of Marcus. There was someone standing next to Nadya. I remember the brown hair spilling out from under his hat. Could it have been him waiting for a close up on the carnage?

"Or it could be someone else." Mark said. He closed his eyes and let his head find the corner. "You can never really tell who is on your side these days. Someone who seems like your friend could just be waiting for the right moment to stab you in the back. Who knows, it could have been someone close."

Lisa and Boothe gave Mark a deadly stare.

"Why are you two looking at me like I'm lying?" he asked defensively.

"We're looking at you like you're stupid," Boothe answered as he resumed his pacing.

"I'm the one making sense," Mark insisted, closing his eyes, again.

"It's okay," I looked from Lisa to Boothe. "Mark's right. It's possible that someone else is involved. It could be someone close, someone I trust."

"We can't afford to point the finger at each other," Lisa said. She looked around at each of our faces. Seeing that Mark's eyes were still closed, she slapped his leg. Mark opened his eyes just wide enough for Lisa to see his disinterest.

"Suspicion and doubt will only break the group apart," she continued. "By ourselves, we're easy targets."

I walked over to the window, pulled back the curtains, and watched as the trees swayed under the gentle breeze. It all looked so normal. That's all I wanted, to be normal. But that dream seemed farther away with each day that passed.

"I know they said we can't go to Port Royal, but after today, there is absolutely no way I can sit back and do nothing." I turned to face the group. "I don't want to get any of you into trouble, that's why I've decided to go alone." I looked around at everyone, every eyebrow was raised in surprise.

"How do you plan to get in to see the archives without a second level clearance?" Lisa asked.

"I don't know. I'm still working out that part."

"Every time you've been attacked, you've been by yourself," Boothe noted with a scolding stare. "Now you want to walk right into the lion's den alone?"

"Boothe's right. Going anywhere by yourself is a bad idea." Mark spoke with his eyes still closed. "You've got a big red target on your back."

I opened my mouth to argue, but Boothe raised his hand and cut me off.

"No." He planted his feet firmly. "You're not going by yourself. I'm going with you."

"I'm not a child! I don't need your constant supervision," I shot back.

"Yes, you do," Mark answered.

"Jane." Lisa touched my arm. "I have to agree with Boothe. The attacks have all happened when you were alone. We need to stick together."

Lisa and Boothe looked at Mark with anticipation. Mark was fluffing chair cushions and wedging them under his head. He paid no attention to their penetrating glares.

"Mark's coming too." Lisa said finally.

"Did I miss something?" Mark sat up instantly. "We just agreed that Jane is a magnet for trouble. Why would I walk into that?"

"Are you really going to leave her to do this by herself?" Lisa was becoming increasingly annoyed.

"Yes!" Mark answered with certainty.

"It's okay," I felt it necessary to come to Mark's defense. "I was sincere when I said I didn't want to get you guys in trouble. If he does not want to come, he doesn't have to."

"Say it again!" Mark mumbled. "You two are looking at me like I'm crazy. I'm the only sane one here."

"Mark is not only coming with us," Lisa folded her arms defiantly. "He's going to make sure we get into the Port Royal archives."

"What?" Mark jumped to his feet. "Don't play yourself..."

"His father, Dr. Alister Chung, is the chief forensic psychologist for the Council. He reviews all the files for all the Neph offenders that are up for parole. He has second level clearance. We can get in as Dr. Chung's invited guests."

"There is no way my father is going to agree..."

"I didn't say anything about asking," Lisa promptly returned.

Mark huffed. "Straight laced Lisa Kennon suggesting that I steal my father's clearance pass?"

Lisa turned red as she stammered for a rebuttal. "I'm suggesting that we do what we have to in order to save our friend."

"The only thing I'm going to do is find a way to get out of this suicide mission." Mark rose, adjusted his clothes, and headed towards the steps.

"What suicide mission?" Dr. Coy suddenly emerged in front of him. Dr. Coy looked even worse than he had before.  A handful of dreads were missing from the crown of his head.  His face looked worn, the lines around his eyes were deep.  Dr. Coy wasn't alone, flanking him were the two Eshkar investigators that had visited me earlier, Millicent and Glenroy.

"Sorry, Jane," Dr. Coy said, stretching his hands out sympathetically. "I know your first impression of them wasn't the greatest, but with this level of exposure the E.I. had to be involved."

"Miss Miller." Millicent walked over to me. She raised her eyebrows to Dr. Coy who immediately fell back. "Most of us go our entire lives without direct and open attack from a Nephilim. You've been here how long? A few months? And you have had three reported incidents—the beach, the bus and now this. How do you account for this?"

"How do you account for not protecting a member of your community?" A fire began in my chest and quickly heated my cheeks and ears.

"Hey!" Aunt Dar yelled to Millicent. "I highly suggest you change your tone. Christopher, I don't like this woman. You warn her." She wagged her finger in Millicent's face. "Don't speak to my niece like that. She is the victim here!"

Millicent didn't seem fazed by Aunt Dar's outburst. She casually took a seat by the window and pulled out her note pad. Dr. Coy escorted Aunt Dar to the opposite side of the room where she paced and shot daggers at Millicent with her eyes.

"Let's get the story. What happened this time?" Millicent's voice was monotonous.

I crossed my arms defiantly. I refuse to answer to this rudeness. My eyes met Dr. Coy's pleading glare. His eyes silently urged me to speak, so I reluctantly recited the tale for the third time. When I got to the part about the hairy man, Millicent stopped writing and looked up at me. It was the first time that I saw empathy in her eyes. She cleared her throat and quickly regained her icy glare. When I finished the story, she stood, closed her book and put it in her pocket. She nodded to Glenroy, who was holding his position by the staircase, just watching.

"I was told that you could tell a Nephilim by their red eyes," I mentioned as she passed me. "The creature that attacked me didn't have red eyes. With a little less teeth and a good shave, he could have passed for my English teacher."

"That's because he was not a Nephilim," she said over her shoulder. She handed Glenroy the notepad from her pocket.

"Are you going to keep us in suspense? If he wasn't a Nephilim, then what is he?" Mark asked loudly. The room fell silent.

She turned to face us and let out a long sigh. "He was an Ancient. I'm surprised Christopher hasn't educated you on this..."

"What's an Ancient?" I asked.

"It's a species that no one has seen in close to a hundred years. This is Eshkar history 101." She gave Dr. Coy an annoyed look, rolled her eyes, then turned to face Glenroy, again. I could see the smug expression on Glenroy's face over her shoulder. It sent a cold shiver down my spine.

"You're an annoyingly miserable woman," Mark said to Millicent.

"Thank you," she responded with a slight scowl.

"Cantankerous old mule," Mark barked. "We are asking you for the truth. What are you hiding? Never mind. We'll figure this out ourselves. We don't need your help."

"If you keep giving me compliments I might think you have a crush on me, Mr. Chung. I might have to get your father, Dr. Alister Chung, to address your inappropriate feelings toward me."

"Call him. You can use my phone." He moved like a blur and appeared only inches from her face. "If you think I am afraid of your plastic badge, you're fooling yourself. Who wears black leather in Jamaica? You nuh fraid a heat stroke?"

Mark continued to argue with Millicent who seemed to become more humoured the angrier Mark became. At the other side of the room, Dr. Coy had lost the battle of restraining Aunt Dar. She charged over to us with a steel glare and a determined step.

"Your presence is not wanted," Aunt Dar barked, wagging her finger at Millicent. "I think you should leave."

"Perhaps you're right." Millicent forced a smile. "Miss Miller, with no offense intended, I hope to never see you again."

"Likewise." I watched as they descended the stairs.

Those of us who remained in the room turned our attention to Dr. Coy.

" What's an Ancient?" I asked.

He fell into a chair and began running his fingers through his tattered dreads. "I really didn't think that any of you would have to face such a being. A live sighting has not been reported in the last one hundred years. Due to the rarity of their appearance, their existence has become a legend, a part of Eshkar folklore."

"Ancients are neither Eshkar nor Nephilim," he continued. "Like Eshkars, they are a variation of Normals. Instead of having a gene that grants you the ability to run fast or lift cars, they have more primitive animal instincts, like a heightened sense of smell, acute hearing, and the appearance and mannerism of an animal."

"Jane, this was not a wrong place, wrong time scenario. Whoever gave this Ancient your picture sent him to find and attack you." Dr. Coy's tone was sombre. "Did you see a mark or branding on his neck or hands?"

"Branding?" Mark sat forward.

"Ancients were kept as servants," Dr. Coy explained.

"By who?" I asked.

"At one point both Nephilim and Eshkar had Ancients as servants. But the Eshkar Council later ruled the practice to be barbaric and banned it. Some think the practice then went underground."

I closed my eyes and replayed snapshots of the hairy man's hands, arms neck and face. "I don't remember any marks," I said finally. "If I did see a brand, how would we find out what mark belonged to what owner?"

Dr. Coy hung his head, letting out a deep sigh. "Those records are kept in the Port Royal archives."

## ~Boothe~

### Chapter Fourteen: A Father's Secret

I know my dad is hiding something. Since that argument about Jane, I've been waiting for the right time to find what that something was.

As soon as the morning sun broke through the horizon, my dad was off on another one of his business trips. I watched through my bedroom window as his car rolled out of the driveway then I went straight to his study.

The study was meticulously organized. Everything down to the paper clips had its designated spot. This meant that I had to be careful. Anything I touched had to be returned to the exact spot where I found it.

A search of his desk drawers gave me nothing but a stapler and a few markers, which on second thought made sense. He's not likely to leave secret information open for all to see. I fingered through the books on the bookshelf and pulled out a grey canvas-covered book entitled The Poor Man's Orchid. The spine creaked as I opened the cover. This book had never been read. I'm sure none of these books had ever been read. They were all show books placed to enhance the room's study appearance.

Frustrated, I dropped into the chair behind the desk. I leaned back, put my feet up, and surveyed the room. Apart from the bookshelf and the desk, I couldn't see any other viable hiding spaces. Maybe it's hidden in a spot that's not visible. I ran my fingers under the desk for any unusual buttons or notches. Nothing.

If I were a cold and calculating dictator, where would I choose as a hiding place?

I looked hard at the painting that hung on the wall across from me. This oil painting of a street in England was my father's pride and joy. We lived in England for seven years before returning to the island.

I ran my finger along the gold embellished frame. I peered behind it. There it was, the flat silver surface of a wall safe.

I stood in front of the safe for a few moments staring at the numerical pad. I'd found his secret location. Now to figure out his access code. My father was not sentimental, so the code wasn't likely to be my birthday or his wedding anniversary. Maybe it's the address of his first store on Constant Spring Road. I typed in 1257. The keypad beeped, but didn't open. I tried the last four digits of the 'secret' cell phone that he kept from my mother, 8449. That's not it either! A loud grunt interrupted my third guess.

"If you put in another wrong number, it will lock you out and your father will have to call the manufacturer's head office to get them to reset the code." My mother was standing in the doorway wearing a fluffy pink robe. "What are you doing in here?" She took a sip of her coffee.

"Getting caught in the act," I responded. I could never lie to my adopted mother. It's because of our bond. In good times or bad times, we were in it together, leaning on each other like old friends. "I'm looking for something."

She laced her slender fingers around her mug. It was the mug I had given her when I was ten. I remember the big hug she'd given me and the tears that welled in her eyes as she read the words written across the front, 'World's Greatest Mom.'

"What are you looking for?" She asked.

"I don't know. I would love to find some information on why everyone is after Jane. But I'll settle for any information about a race of Ancients."

She nodded then took a long sip of her brew. "Say you find this information, then what?"

"Then I'll track down each and every one of those responsible for hurting Jane and make them regret it."

My mother looked at me for a few moments. Her eyes looked glossy like they were welling up with tears. "When you were seven, I got a call from the neighbour saying that you had fallen out of a tree and broke your arm. When I came to get you, you weren't crying. You were consoling your friend. I asked you what happened. You looked at me and said, 'Brian was stuck in the tree.. I had to save him.'"

"I remember."

"You've always been a protector," she said, looking down into her cup. "I'm just afraid that this time it will be more than your arm you'll break."

"I'll be fine, mom. I promise."

"A promise is a comfort to a fool, son. The code is the day you showed up on our door October 18th. The code is 1018." She sighed then left the room.

I hated seeing my mother upset. To alleviate her pain I would have to abandon Jane. I couldn't do that. If I left her, with no one to protect her, she would end up dead. Maybe if someone were there to protect my birth mother she would still be alive.

I plugged in the numbers and the safe hissed open. In the center of the steel cube was a single manila folder. Inside the folder were letters written from my dad to various other chairmen from the councils around the world. Most of the letters spoke of the rising tide of Nephilim violence reminiscent of the pre-war days. The Council chairmen inquired about the current location of Aramos, and whether he was still under close surveillance.

I skimmed the letters, it was warning after warning. Wait. A name I recognized. It was deep in the body of one of the memos written to my father from Council Guard Captain, Glenroy Mamos. He wrote:

There are reports of a surge in violence in the town of Black River. Seven squatters, all Normals, were viciously attacked by a band of Nephilim and Ancients. Preliminary investigation indicates the offenders were searching abandoned properties that once belonged to the Millers. Liaisons with E.I. in Canada indicate similar break-ins in other locations Jane Miller has inhabited. Violent activity linked to Jane Miller is steadily rising. According to reports, the violence peaked on June 7, the anniversary of the great earthquake. Surveillance on the target Aramos has been increased. Full report sent to head office archives. Detailed reports of the offenders will be kept in their respective files.

Why did Glenroy act as if he knew nothing about Jane's problems when in fact he's been following her and the violence that surrounds her for years? What's this about the anniversary of an earthquake? The biggest question of all was why did my father keep all this a secret?

I shuffled through the papers searching for the answers to these new questions. There was no further talk about the quake or Jane. Close to the end of the folder I saw another document that peaked my interest. It was a letter, with no letterhead or signature. It spoke about a proposal made to my father. More specifically, it was about a secret that the author said would destroy my father. The author gave my father an ultimatum: give him what he wanted or he'd release the information. The letter was dated three months before my father ended his term as Chairman.

What was this secret? Was this the actual reason my dad suddenly resigned from his position as Chairman after serving only four years of a ten-year term?

I was about to put the files back into the safe when I noticed a letter-sized envelope lying flush against the wall of the safe. It was unmarked, except for my dad's sharp-angled signature right across the seal. I've seen this done before. It was a simple way of deterring prying eyes and readily detecting if anyone had opened the document.

I ripped open the envelope, pulling out a single document—my birth certificate.

Then it happened, my dad came home. I could hear his heavy footsteps as they got closer to the study. I was still holding the torn envelope in my hand. Then I heard my mother. She asked him why he was back so soon and he said something about forgetting his travel documents. My mother continued to bombard him with pointless questions and my father started to sound irritated by my mother's small talk. The footsteps towards the study resumed at a new hurried pace.

"What are you doing in my private office?" He yelled as he burst through the door. My mother was right behind him.

"Why is my birth certificate in your secret safe? Better question, why is my biological father's name, birth date, and the name of the hospital where I was born blacked out?"

****

"Morning," Jane greeted as she climbed into the passenger seat next to me. "Boothe? Hello? I said good morning," she sang.

"Sorry, my mind is...never mind."

"Is everything okay? Did you and your dad have another fight?" She reached out to touch me.

"Don't worry," I placed my hand on hers. "I'm fine."

I caught a glimpse of the banana that was lying on her lap. "You missed breakfast?" I asked.

"Yeah. I woke up late. I was up last night talking to..."

"A friend?"

"Someone who was nice enough to keep me company."

I gave her a one-sided smile. "When I gave you my number you were so sure you were never going to call me. But I knew I'd win you over. It was just a matter of time before you gave in."

"Gave in? Now I regret calling you," She said, rolling her eyes. "I will never make that mistake again."

"Until you hear snap outside your door or a lizard croaking outside your window..." I watched as she clenched her jaw tightly and folded her arms across her chest.

"I'd call my mother before I ever call you again."

I couldn't help the smile that crossed my face. "Lighten up. I was happy to keep you company. It wasn't like I could sleep anyway." My eyes felt like sandpaper as I blinked. She on the other hand looked refreshed and beautiful as usual.

"You didn't answer my question before. Did you and your father have a fight?" She toyed with her banana.

Fight. I wouldn't say it was a fight, well not in the traditional sense. I asked him about the birth certificate and he shouted about breaking into his private safe. He huffed and puffed until his small frame exploded. Not once did he give an answer for the information I found about Jane or my blacked-out birth certificate. In the end, I left the room frustrated. He wouldn't give up anything. "We had a disagreement."

"What about?"

"Nothing important." I gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Back to last night; why did you hang up on me?"

She blushed. "I said Goodnight. It was 1:30 in the morning..."

"You shouldn't have hung up. We had a lot to talk about."

She held her breath. I could see that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes brightened with flecks of silver. "Like what?"

"Like what's going on between me and you."

"I don't understand." She kept her head low.

"It's not about what you understand. It's about what you feel."

"I feel hungry. We're meeting Lisa and Mark for breakfast at Elma's-"

"Do you need to hear me say it first?" I interrupted. "Is that it? Fine, Jane, I care."

"Don't," she said, clutching her pendant, "please don't."

"Why not?" My jaw tightened.

"Because I am asking you not to."

That did not go the way I'd envisioned. I didn't think she would leap into my arms, but I did expect some reciprocation. I watched her from the corner of my eye as she clung to her necklace. She could try to avoid it, but Jane's a terrible liar. I know she feels something. I could see it. But I could also see that she didn't trust me completely.

We pulled off the main road into one of my favourite local restaurants called Elma's Place, or El's as us regulars called it. It was quarter to eight and El's was already teeming with people ordering their morning provisions.

"I'm going to order a peanut porridge," I said, looking up at the menu posted on the wall behind the counter. "How about you?"

"Peanut porridge?" Her full lips twisted.

"It tastes better than it sounds," I said through clenched lips. "Go out on a limb, try something new."

"I only have the stomach for one adventure per week. I've met my quota."

She looked at the entire menu, making odd faces as she went down the list from left to right and back again. I watched her every movement.

"What?" She caught me staring.

"Poison is not on the menu. Hurry up."

"I'll have a beef patty."

"A patty? For breakfast? I'm not sure they serve patty so early in the morning."

"It's the only thing on the menu I know." She pleaded her case. "We used to have this thing back home where they put the patty between two hamburger buns and you topped it with anything you'd put on a hamburger. It was really good. I used to order it all the time."

"Sounds like they were trying to make the Jamaican version of an American sandwich." I said, stepping up to the counter.

"Yeah, like a Jamwich."

"Ah wha?" I held in my laugh.

"A Jamaican sandwich: Jamwich."

"Don't let anyone else hear you say that."

We got our food, headed to a table and ate in absolute silence.

"They're here!" She jumped to her feet and waved eagerly to Mark and Lisa as they approached.

"Sorry we're a bit late." Lisa was obviously irritated with Mark.

"Hey, this handsome form takes time to perfect. Have to get the hair and the beard right." He pointed to his face.

"Calling the four strands of bone straight hair on your chin a beard is a leap," I teased.

"Don't test me this morning, Boothe. Understand that I will mess up my new kicks for you," He warned in return and balled up his fists.

"Any time you're ready." I pumped my biceps.

"Okay, guys, joke's over." Lisa looked at her watch. "We only have fifteen minutes to make it to school."

"Mark gave me his father's clearance pass. I made a copy." She slid the card across the table. "I also prepared a brief for each of you. Please read it carefully."

"Wow."  Mark examined the pass closely.  "This looks just like the original.  If I knew you were this good I would have given you some other things to copy."

Jane looked around the restaurant carefully, watching each person as they headed to their tables. "Why are we doing this here? They're so many people around."

"The more people, the more witnesses." Lisa answered. "No Neph will start something with this many people around. It's an automatic ten to fifteen years in confinement."

"Jane, that's what you should have told the Ancient in the market. I'm sure that if he knew the punishment he would have backed off for sure." Mark's voice was rich with heavy sarcasm. "I'm hungry."

Mark had returned to the table carrying a plate piled with food. It was the morning special—liver with onions, green banana, Irish potato, with a side of buttered bread. Jane looked disgusted.

"So when do we go to Port Royal?" Lisa asked.

"Today."  Jane looked at each face, but lowered her eyes when she reached mine.

## ~Jane~

### Chapter Fifteen: Losing Control

I felt a pair of eyes penetrating me as I poked at my chicken lunch.

"What?" I said, looking up at Boothe. He sat back tapping his index finger on the table.

"I know it looks decorative but it's really only rice and chicken." Boothe whispered as he leaned forward.

It was lunchtime at Kingston Academy. The cafeteria was packed with students, all Normals, all ignorant of the real danger they were in.

"I don't have much of an appetite." I slid the tray away from me.

"Nervous about Port Royal?" He didn't sound interested in the answer.

I'm nervous about a number of things: Port Royal, Nephilim, Ancients, and now Boothe.

"Maybe I'm rushing things. Maybe it's too soon to be taking on the Council."

"Rushing?" Boothe raised one brow.

"You are acting like a spoiled brat." I retorted in a low voice. "I have more important things to worry about than puppy dog feelings."

He curled his bottom lip in contempt then pushed his chair away from the table, rose and walked away.

"Boothe, wait. I didn't mean..." He disappeared into the crowd.

I should run after him, tell him that I didn't mean for my words to come out that way. I should tell him that I've seen another side of him over the last few weeks that I genuinely like. He's kind, thoughtful and annoyingly protective. I should go after him and tell him that it's me, not him. I'm not ready to explore this feeling. I'm definitely not ready for the inevitable heartbreak.

"Hey guys," I exhaled as Lisa and Mark approached.

"Where's Boothe?" Lisa asked as she took a seat beside me.

Keeping my head low, I shrugged my shoulders. Lisa peered at me. She knew I was lying.

"He left." I sighed deeply. "Maybe for good."

I tried to force myself to eat but I couldn't, my stomach was in knots. I managed to get down two forks of rice before handing my plate over to Mark who happily downed the rest. I opened the dessert, an island favourite, Gizada. It's a small pie made with flakes of coconut and brown sugar. I nibbled at the crust and began to pick off some coconut flakes when Mark snatched the treat from my hands.

"No!" he said passionately. "This Gizada deserves better than this." He pointed to the coconut flakes all over the table.

I looked down at the table and realized that more of the coconut flakes got onto the table than in my mouth.

"You can have it." I resigned.

Just then, I spotted Dr. Coy as he entered the cafeteria. The last time I saw him was at Lisa's house two days ago. It's shocking how his appearance has deteriorated so quickly. Today he looked like he got dressed in the dark, with no regard for the uniform regulations of Kingston Academy. His bright yellow t-shirt with Fort-Lauderdale Beaches embroidered across the top was out of place in the sea of blue and white worn by the other students and staff.

There was no denying that something was wrong with Dr. Coy. The evidence extended far beyond his tattered clothing. You could see his turmoil in the way he hunched forward when he walked and in the new lines that had developed along his forehead.

I watched Dr. Coy's laboured walk as he collected his lunch and retreated to a table in the corner. Before I realized what I was doing, I was already halfway to his table. He acknowledged my presence with a slight nod. I watched as his shriveled fingers wrapped themselves around his fork. With great effort, he brought the fork to his lips.

"I hope you don't mind me sitting with you," I said.

"Not at all, Jane. Not too many people sit with me these days." He looked up at me with hollow, dark eyes.

I leaned across the table. "Are you okay? And don't tell me everything is fine, because I can see that it's not." I said in a hushed voice.

"Everything is fine." He returned his focus to his food.

I picked up a napkin and twirled it between my fingers. "I've acted like everything was fine for most of my life. I wasn't okay. Aunt Dar says that the more we try to cover things up is the more our souls want to scream the truth. I think that's why although we say that we're okay those that care about us can always see the pain in our eyes."

He continued to shove heaps of food into his mouth as if nothing I said related to him. But when our eyes made contact, I saw the mist of tears he was fighting back.

"You can tell me," I said softly.

He put the fork down beside his empty plate.

"Please tell me what's wrong. I'll do whatever I can to help you. We all will." I touched his feeble fingers reassuringly.

"Did Lisa tell you about my daughter Tanya?" He asked without looking up.

I shook my head.

"She's a few years older than you. She lives in Florida with her mother..."Coy began to sob. "You can't help me." He pulled his lips into a thin line. "I am in too deep. There is no way out for me. I have to follow this path to the end. I have no choice."

"I don't understand."

"One person's life is just as important as the next." He looked at me painfully. "Except when the next life belongs to your daughter."

"Are you saying Tanya's life is in danger?"

He sat silently for what felt like an eternity. In the end, Dr. Coy rose to his feet with his tray in his hands. Our eyes did not meet again. When Dr. Coy left the cafeteria, Lisa and Mark quickly joined me.

"What did he say?" Mark asked.

"He said something about his daughter being in some sort of danger. He was vague. I told him we could help him, but he turned it down." Looking down, I realized that I had torn my napkin into shreds, so I gathered all the pieces together and balled them in my palm.

The day started to look up when my third period math teacher was inexplicably absent. With no substitute teacher provided, we were given a free period. Lisa had given me a few books from the Caribbean History course she took last year, so I sat on the steps by the school entrance and opened the first book to the table of contents. My finger stopped on chapter thirteen, simply entitled Port Royal, The Earthquake.

It was a compilation of first hand testimonies from the survivors of the June 7, 1692 earthquake that destroyed most of Port Royal. Entry after entry detailed the same turn of events. Unexpectedly, at approximately quarter to twelve on June 7th, while the kids were at school and the men crowded the local rum bars and brothels, the ground began to tremble. The earth shook violently, then opened up and swallowed half the city.

One witness stated that, "The sand in the street rose like the waves of the sea, lifting up all persons that stood upon it. The earth swallowed some. Others were swept away by the flood water that rushed in, swallowing all who were in its way."

June 7th. The anniversary of the flood was less than a week away.

I closed my eyes. The imagery played like a movie in my mind, the ground in uproar and rows of homes swallowed whole in the earth and the raging sea.

The sound of someone clearing their throat broke through my daydream.

I opened my eyes to see Nadya flanked by her two dedicated stooges. She grabbed the book from my lap and dropped it at my feet.

A flash of heat travelled through my body. I took a few deep breaths as I unclenched my tightened fists. "What do you want?"

"I have something else for you to read." She said, handing me a small piece of paper.

I thought of Aunt Dar's words, 'You catch more flies with honey than you do vinegar.' I took the paper reluctantly and unfolded it. My pulse began to race immediately.

"This is a bill."

"My dry-cleaning bill to be exact. It's for the clothes you damaged at the market."

"It's in U.S. dollars?" I was in shock.

"Yes, and I expect full payment."

"You have lost what little mind I gave you credit for having. I am not paying you for this. It was an accident." I shouted. "The bill is in U.S. dollars! You live in Jamaica!"

I handed her back the bill, but she refused to accept it, so I crumpled the paper and threw it at her feet. I didn't bother to look up at her. I picked up the second book and began skimming through the pages as if she wasn't standing there.

"'You're ungrateful. You should be kissing my feet! All I have to do is snap my fingers and I'll have someone here in thirty seconds to deal with you. Instead, I'm being the bigger person."

"In what universe does a dry-cleaning bill qualify as a peace offering?" I took a deep breath and allowed my pulse to slow down. Nadya's a Normal. I would like to use her face as a broom, but I'd regret it later.

"I apologize," I said, struggling to stay calm. "I am apologizing now, again. Nadya, I am sorry for running into you and I am sorry for splashing water on you. But saying sorry doesn't change anything, does it?" I stood to my feet and quickly gathered my belongings. "You're not going to let any of this go." I realized my voice was loud when two boys from the nearby football field stopped their game to focus on us.

"You know what really bothers me, foreigna? You've got a lot of people fooled." She stepped close. "Putting on this goody-goody attitude and walking around like you're something special."

"I'm not trying to be something special. I am trying to be normal."

"I know who you really are." She started wagging her finger in my face. "I'm going to make sure everyone knows, too. When I'm done with you, you'll be nothing."

I hate bullies. "Get your finger out of my face," I demanded.

"Or else?" She stepped closer.

"Don't patronize me." I stepped forward, closing the gap between us.

"Don't patronize me," she mocked. She and her friends laughed heartily. The more they laughed, the thicker and hotter the blood felt as it coursed through my veins.

"I've moved around my whole life, so I have met a lot of people. But I have never met anyone who infuriates me the way you do. You're a bully. And I hate bullies."

"I hate bullies," Nadya mocked me once again.

As she laughed, my hands pulsed. The concrete beneath her mimicked my blood's rhythm.

Her friends noticed first. They stumbled back and screamed. That's when Nadya's eyes widened in fear. The pulsing became stronger until the concrete began to splinter and crack.

"Jane!" A pair of strong, warm arms wrapped themselves around my waist. It was Boothe. "Lisa said you'd be out here," he said, gripping me tighter. "What are you doing?" He whispered in my ear.

I didn't have an answer. I wasn't trying to hurt her. That I knew for sure. I just wanted to scare her a bit. Maybe next time she'll think twice before pushing people around.

"Boothe, there is something seriously wrong with your new girlfriend." Nayda's voice shook when she spoke.

Looking at her lips as they quivered made me feel terrible. Suddenly, I felt like the bully. I relaxed my hands, and the ground, following my lead, fell flat.

"Jane, we have somewhere to go, remember?" Boothe whispered as he gestured for Nadya to run. Without hesitation, Nadya gripped her purse and quickly scampered away.

My heart fell as I watched her run. "What did I just do?" I turned to face him.

"We all lose our temper; some more than others." He dropped his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"This isn't me. Did you see the look on her face? She was terrified." I hung my head. "I've turned into the very thing I hate."

"Don't beat yourself up. You are nothing like her. You're smart, beautiful, and have the biggest heart I've seen since my adopted mother."

I looked up at him and instantly my heart fell. "Boothe, I'm so..."

"You've got more important things to worry about." He said curtly.

"Port Royal." My voice was barely louder than a whisper.

"The car's waiting."

"Thank you for saving me."

He kept his head straight and his steps quick. "I gave my word to Coy that I would protect you."

"Earlier in the cafeteria, I didn't mean..."

He hushed me with a wave of his hand. "Forget about it. We've got more important things to deal with."

I glanced over my shoulder. There was Nadya, in the middle of the football field, yelling to whomever would listen.

## ~Jane~

### Chapter Sixteen: Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

"Fort Charles," Lisa whispered with excitement. "This Fort was built in the 1650s. Can you imagine what these walls have seen—soldiers, pirates, hangings, slaves, floods, fires?"

The Fort reminded me of the walls built around old castles. There were holes in the fort walls where rusted cannons pointed out to sea, forever ready to take on the approaching enemy. In the middle of the grounds sat a small brick building tilted forty-five degrees on its side. The sign in front read Giddy House. Lisa explained that it was an old artillery house for the British army. It survived the quake of 1692, but sank into the ground during the quake of 1907.

"I see a lot of military history." I said to Lisa. "I don't see anything about Pirates or Nephilim."

"That history is in the underwater city," she explained. "There it is." She pointed to a small white square building that stood at the far end of the Fort. "That's Eshkar Council Headquarters."

If my mother saw me about to walk into Eshkar Council property with a handful of teenage friends and a fake ID pass she would have my head. On second thought, she would take one look at the cannons facing us and war guns that dotted the Port Royal landscape and faint. This is kind of what I felt like doing.

I looked at Boothe, Lisa, and Mark by my side. Sixteen years I went without a real friend. Now I have three. Well, one for sure. Mark's a little iffy. And Boothe, well, he said everything was fine between us, but he hasn't said more than two words to me during our ride out to Port Royal.

I have to focus. We're here for information. If we pull this off I'll have the answers to everything. I'll find out why Aramos is after me. I'll know who owned the Ancient that attacked me in the market. Maybe I'll even find out something about my family history.

If all goes wrong and we're caught and charged with breaking a Council code, we'll be locked up with convicted Neph offenders where we'll waste away in a four-by-five cell.

Is it too late to turn back?

"This is such a bad idea," Mark said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wrapped parcel. It was a piece of chicken he had saved from lunch.

Boothe let out a deep sigh. "We're not turning back."

At the end of the long gravel strip was the main office. The main office was a white square-shaped building with two square windows and a dark, heavy wooden door. The dim overhead lighting gave the place a grim, sinister look. Dotting the room were artifacts neatly mounted on wooden platforms with small cards describing the object and its place in history. There was only one modern element in the room—a glass top desk in the rear of the room where a stone-faced man sat speaking quickly into a telephone headset.

"Mark, you're up." Boothe whispered as he eyed the strange man behind the desk.

Mark shook his head. "This is not going to work." He shoved a piece of chicken in his mouth and chewed quickly.

"That's it," Lisa grabbed Mark by the arm. "I have had it with your pessimistic attitude. You are going to walk up to that counter, give the man that pass, and recite what we rehearsed. We're pre-med students working with Dr. Chung. We're here to gather data on Neph offenders for a research paper. Got it?"

Mark's legs began to fidget as he blew several heavy breaths.

"Mark," Lisa growled, "grow some chest hair and get your butt over there."

Mark pulled the forged second-level clearance pass.

"And don't look so nervous." Lisa cautioned as he began to walk. He nodded as he stuck his hands in his narrow pockets. The man behind the desk moved only his eyes to greet Mark as he approached.

Mark's hand shook as he handed the pass to the man behind the desk. The man, again moving only his eyes, roved over the pass before accepting it from Mark's grasp. So far it seemed like Mark was playing his role well.

"That man," Boothe said, looking at the man behind the desk. "There's something wrong about him."

I looked closely at the man behind the desk. The way he sat upright in the chair reminded me of Millicent and Glenroy. Just like them, his back was elongated as if he were tied to a pole. Boothe was right there was something more about him, something that was almost creepy. It was his face. He was expressionless. When Mark spoke to him, only his eyes moved, slowly blinking as if each movement was deliberate.

Suddenly, he turned to face me. A feverish chill ran through my body. As I quickly turned away, my eyes met Boothe's stare. His eyes had turned grey. His biceps had swollen to fit the width of his shirt sleeves. Something was setting him off.

"Mark is starting to break," Lisa said in a panic. "He's got all the textbook signs of a liar. He's fidgeting, blinking wildly, and stumbling over his words."

"We should look around," Boothe said, exchanging a hard glance with the man behind the desk. "If we want him to believe that we're pre-med students working for Dr. Chung, we should try to look like it."

We each went off in our own directions. Lisa went to the right where they had a display about the pirates that took residency at Port Royal. Boothe, not taking his own advice, had taken a seat near the entrance where he sat meticulously observing the room. I walked along the display cases and stopped by a section devoted to the earthquake of 1692. I can't explain the growing interest I had developed for this single event, but I found myself wanting to know more about what happened and how it happened.

On the wall were pictures of the ongoing underwater excavations of the portion of Lime Street that sunk. Underwater the street still looked intact. There were skeletons frozen in the same position they were in when the earthquake struck. One picture stood out above the rest, it was of a couple forever frozen in each other's arms.

Boothe soon joined me. We stood side by side looking at an old ceramic pot the underwater team had excavated.

"All I can think about is putting my fist through this wall." Boothe was breathing heavily and rubbing his palms over the thigh of his pants.

I looked into his bloodshot eyes. "Try to focus on something else," I said as I walked to another display.

Boothe followed me. I could feel his heavy breath on the back of my neck. "What are you looking at?"

"Just some artifacts from the earthquake. It's sad that all those lives were lost."

"They were Nephs, Jane. They're better off dead."

"How could you say something like that?" I was sincerely shocked. I had never heard Boothe speak with such venom and condemnation. "They were people too. Just like us, they couldn't help how they were born. No one should be condemned for things that are beyond their control."

"The next time you see Marcus you can give him a great big hug. Tell him how much you accept him for who he is."

"Marcus chose to attack me. He..."

"That's not how it works." Boothe looked at me through the corner of his eye. "He attacked you because it's his nature. Destruction and evil runs through his veins. He can't escape that no more than you can escape your shoe size."

"Saying that someone can't control their behaviour or their attitude because they were born with it is just an excuse for not wanting to change."

"Whatever." Boothe walked away. "Make sure you enjoy the view from your bubble."

"What's your problem?"

He kept walking.

I hadn't seen the rude side of Boothe since my first run in with him in the hallway of Kingston Academy. I didn't like it then and I definitely didn't like it now.

"A difference of opinion is no reason for you to be rude," I stood in front of him. He looked at me, his grey eyes appeared dark under the dim overhead lighting.

"He said for us to wait," Mark said as he approached. He took a seat opposite Boothe.

Lisa soon joined, sinking herself into the seat beside Mark. Her eyes danced between Boothe and me. She raised her brow questioningly. I shrugged.

"What happens next?" Boothe asked as he continued to rub his hands vigorously against his pants.

"Don't know. He just said to wait. Feels like someone is beating a drum in my head. Anyone have any Tylenol or Advil?" Mark rubbed his temples.

"I don't think it will help," Lisa said, looking around at the group. "I think it's him." She was looking at the reception desk. "Mark, you are jumpier and more agitated than I have ever seen you before. Boothe, you look, well, very angry."

Lisa began rubbing her hands together and rocking herself back and forth. Her grey eyes were bloodshot. "Jane, do you feel any different?"

I did feel a little irritated. But dealing with Boothe could do that to anyone. "I feel okay."

Lisa grabbed her stomach and hunched forward. That sent my pulse racing. "What's going on?"

"He's killing us," Mark said softly. "Slowly and painfully."

I looked to the man behind the desk. His grey eyes were fiercely trained on us. There was a dark hue over his face that grew darker the longer I held his gaze.

"We have to get out of here." I gripped Boothe's arm and attempted to lift him from his seat. He didn't budge. "You're going to have to help me out here," I said between grunts.

Boothe clenched his jaw so tightly that the tendons in his neck bulged. He shook his head. "We've made it this far. I won't let him chase us out of here."

"Getting this information is not as important as you guys are to me."

Just as I finished my sentence, Mark fell from his seat. He was now hunched over on the floor ripping violently at his hair. Lisa dove to his side.

"Lisa, you grab Mark." I swung Boothe's tense arm around my neck. "We are getting them out of here."

Lisa lifted Mark with ease. As much as I tried, I couldn't lift Boothe from his seat. He felt like dead weight.

"You have to work with me, Boothe. We'll stand on three." I counted down. When I reached one, he fell to the floor, pulling me down with him.

"Without the mind, the body is useless," The man said from behind his desk. His eyes were dark, like the sky in a violent storm.

"You have to stop this!" I barked, my lips trembling. "Look at what you are doing to my friends."

The man behind the desk surveyed my face for a few moments. He then leaned forward. "Why are you here?" He asked in a low and even voice.

Lisa let out a piercing shriek. She was lying next to Mark with her hands gripping her hair.

I freed myself from Boothe's grip and ran to Lisa's side. "Stop! You're going to kill them!" I yelled. My hands were trembling and my chest burned with fire.

"Your friend gave me this cock and bull story about being here on a research assignment. If you want them to live you will answer my question. Why are you here? Be careful to answer truthfully."

"We're here to look at the archives." It felt like a hundred pound weight had dropped on my chest. I felt this same way before I fought the Ancient in the market. I took a few deep breaths. I have to remain calm; my friends' lives depend on it.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"What's your name?" I returned.

"Attitude. Not wise. But I'll answer, as this may be your last moment on earth. They call me Vice because I hold minds in a powerful vice grip. I squeeze until I get what I want."

Lisa screamed. Vice smiled.

"Okay. If I answer will you stop hurting my friends?"

He looked over at them, his lips curled only slightly as if satisfied with his work, and nodded.

"My name is Jane Miller. Now please." I clenched my fists in an effort to steady my hands. "Stop this now!"

He surveyed me carefully. "Or else?"

"I'm not challenging you. I'm asking you," I said in return.

"That's too bad. I enjoy a good challenge." Vice winked. I heard Lisa yell out in pain. Boothe and Mark had stopped moving all together.

As if on instinct, I freed my trembling hands. The vibration moved through my fingers and circled the room. The glass display cases fractured and shattered as the walls began to shake. My eyes were trained on the man behind the desk who had a satisfying smirk on his face. I focused on him. I started with his desk, splitting it in half. The whole room shook. Portions of the white, chalky ceiling fell to the ground around him.

Vice jumped to his feet and raised one hand. Suddenly, a sharp pain travelled through my head. It felt like someone had driven an ice-pick through my scalp. Just like my friends before me, I fell to the ground clutching my head.

He walked over and knelt down beside me. "Don't worry, the effects of my gift don't last long." He held my hand and helped me to my feet.

My vision was blurry and I struggled to remain on my feet. "Why would you do something like that? Good people don't do this."

"I am the first line of defense against trespassers. People are prone to tell the truth when they or their loved ones are in danger."

I pulled my hand from his grasp and staggered back to my friends. Boothe was now sitting back on the chair. Mark sat a few seats over with his head on Lisa's shoulder. I stepped over the broken glass from the shattered display boxes and took a seat in the centre. "You guys okay?" I whispered.

They nodded slightly.

"I think we should leave." I looked at each member of the group.

"Your guide is on the way." Vice said, pointing towards a narrow white door.

I surveyed the room. There was broken glass all over the floor. The ceiling was cracked from one end to the other.

"Let's get out of here." I insisted. I still felt uneasy and wasn't sure I could make it to the car without falling.

Boothe grabbed my hand. "No. We're staying."

"He's not going to chase us away." Lisa added.

"Boothe's my ride," Mark mumbled.

The narrow white door creaked open. "You've got to be kidding." Mark threw his hands in the air. "I'd rather take my chances with the lunatic behind the desk."

Millicent leaned casually against the cracked reception desk. "Now play nice," she said with a mischievous grin. "We want to ensure that your visit to Port Royal is a pleasant one."

"There is nothing pleasant about you," Mark said curtly.

"Mark," Boothe cautioned. "Easy."

"I highly suggest you take your friend's advice, Mark." Millicent said as she scanned the room. "Miss Miller, how nice to see you again. I thought we agreed that you would be leaving the Marcus issue to us."

I could feel my face bend into a scowl. "We're here on a research trip for Mark's..."

"Father. Yes, I heard. Naturally, we didn't believe you, so we called Dr. Chung."

I looked over at Mark. His face had lost all its blood and his small eyes had widened.

"We ran your story past him." She looked directly at Mark when she spoke. Mark looked like he was about to faint. Lisa elbowed him and mumbled for him to get himself together and stop acting so guilty.

"Lucky for you all, he confirmed your statement." Millicent said finally. She then paused and looked around the room, staring intently at the glass and cement fragments that dotted the floor. "Vice, I see you had your fun," she said to the man behind the desk.

He gave a one-sided smile. "You know what they say, 'if you don't use it, you lose it'" They both chuckled. "I've called facilities for cleanup," He handed her a clipboard and a set of keys.

Millicent stepped over the debris, passed us, and walked right to the front door. "Let's go children."

She walked ahead of us towards the parking lot where Boothe's car was parked. We walked a good distance behind her. I felt like this was some sort of trap. At any minute we were going to be ambushed and arrested for some ridiculous Council violation.

"Where are you taking us?" I asked aloud. She didn't answer or break stride. "Back there you mentioned Marcus. How's the investigation going?" Again, no reply. "You're not even looking for Aramos are you?" Looking at the back of her head, I could envision the nonchalant expression on her face. "How deep does the relationship with the Neph's go? E.I.s, the Council Guard, the Chairman." My frustration was mounting. Lisa gasped loudly.

Millicent stopped in her tracks then quickly turned to face me. "Keep making comments like that and they'll throw you and your friends in jail for treason. You'll be lucky if you get out before your thirtieth birthday."

"For having an opinion against Council code?" I folded my arms across my chest.

"You call it opinion; they call it treason and insubordination. Now, if you want to continue down this path don't let me stop you. But I'll bet that you didn't risk coming to Port Royal to hand yourself over to the Council Guard so easily."

Millicent resumed her course with us following behind.

"What's a Council Guard?" I whispered to Lisa.

"They're the Council's cleanup crew. They do all the dirty stuff that the Eshkar investigators don't touch. They also guard the headquarters full-time, ready for anything that requires their special brand of attention."

"Why didn't you guys tell me about this Council Guard before we came here?"

"It was in the briefing I gave you at El's restaurant," Lisa whispered back. "Page four, second paragraph from the bottom."

"No one read that thing," Mark interjected.

Millicent led us into the town. The small fishing village was for the most part vacant. There were pockets of people by the shore reeling in their fishing net. There was a small restaurant where a few dozen Normals and Eshkars sat laughing and talking. She stopped in front of an old two-story building. The paint on the exterior had lost its colour, giving the building the trademark grey hue that seemed to cover most things in this town.

"Welcome." She said, extending her hand to the building.

"This old eyesore is the archives?" Mark stepped onto the veranda. He touched the wooden column and the wood splintered into dust. "The Council is stingy with their money," he mumbled.

"This building is a historical landmark." She opened the wooden door and motioned for us to step inside. "It was an old naval hospital built in 1818."

"If you're setting us up, I will personally deal with you," Boothe hissed as he passed her.

She rolled her eyes in reply.

I was shocked as I stepped inside. The interior of the old naval hospital looked like an industrial warehouse. The space was filled with countless rows of floor to ceiling metal shelves. Each shelf was crowded with file boxes.

"This doesn't look like the archives I remember," Boothe stated as he turned to face Millicent. "You're setting us up."

She crossed her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes. "How old were you when you last saw this place, seven maybe eight? We had a few breaches that required us to be a little bit more diligent with security."

"You're concerned about security, so you put your files in a condemned hospital?" Mark ran his finger along a shelf and cringed at the dust that stuck to his finger.

"Does a thief search for a diamond in the shack, or the five thousand square foot house next to it? Besides, this place is protected enough. You've met our first line of protection."

"Mr. Personality at the reception desk?" Mark rolled his eyes.

"The minute you gave your names, a message was sent to Council Guard security desk. Vice, or Mr. Personality as you like to call him, has one job—to give us enough time to search your background and organize the Council Guard if needed. Lucky for you I was on duty when you came in."

"Why are you helping us?" I surveyed Millicent's stern face. I agree with Boothe, something seems off about all of this.

"Because Christopher Coy asked me to."

I had ruled Dr. Coy out as a source of help. But here he was, battling his own demons, yet still helping in his own way. I smiled.

"I don't have the time or the patience to baby sit you kids." Her eyes roamed over us. "Don't make me regret this. I'll be back for you in exactly fifty minutes. Anything you touch you put back where you found it. Do not destroy or remove anything from this room. See you in fifty."

"So you didn't call my father?" Mark asked Millicent as she turned to leave.

She rolled her eyes then pulled the door closed behind her. I heard the click as the locks engaged, sealing us in.

"Alligator woman," Mark mumbled to himself.

Millicent went out on a limb to bring us here. Maybe I misjudged her.

"So, this is the new archives?" Boothe scanned the room. "Definitely a downgrade in terms of looks."

"And comfort," Mark added. "There are no tables or chairs."

"I'm not prepared for this, but that's okay." Lisa eyed the room and pulled a box from a bottom shelf. The front of the box had a chain of numbers and letters scribbled across the front. She opened the box, pulled out one of the white folders and began to read aloud,

Eshkar name Lillian Aaron, born April 17, 1897, died March 21, 1982, endowed with the ability to change the emotional climate of the room with her voice. Last known location: Bog Walk.

The file went on to itemize her life, where she went to school, her children's names and their locations.

"Lillian sounds great, but we don't need information on other Eshkars." I said, pulling down a random box.

"Neph files are in here. We just have to look. Mark, Lisa, you guys start with boxes down at the opposite end. Jane and I will continue here." Boothe directed.

We're down to forty minutes to find a file on Marcus, Aramos, and the Ancients. There were thousands of boxes to sift through. It would be harder than finding a needle in a haystack. Unless... "Lisa," I called out, "can you decipher the code on the front of the boxes?"

"No problem." She responded from a distance. "It seems to be a simple combination of a year, initials, and maybe some administrative additions.

"Why don't you ever ask me how to decipher anything?" Mark said, feigning hurt. "I know stuff too, you know."

"If you know what the code is, please tell us." I picked up another file. This one was for an Eshkar man, middle aged, who lived in Manchester.

"Well, I'd say the first four digits are most likely the admin information. The second set of numbers is the date of birth, followed by date of death," Lisa informed the group.

Mark cleared his throat loudly. "This code has an E at the end, but this one has an N. I'd say the E is for Eshkar, and the N for Nephilim."

"Wow, I think Mark's right," Lisa said with surprise. "Neph files are mixed in with the Eshkar files." Lisa emerged with two folders. "This one is about a Neph kid in Freetown, and this is an Eshkar in Black River. There is no organization here."

"They don't need organization, Lisa. They need kerosene oil and a match," Mark said grimly. "Every file I've picked up so far spoke of people who lived normal lives. No run-ins with the Council at all. No violations or offenses are mentioned."

"I don't like this," Boothe threw the box he was looking through onto the floor. "I can guarantee that Eshkars don't know the Council has been secretly collecting this information. If they ever found out, they'd probably want to burn this place down, too."

"But why collect this? What benefit do you get from charting someones life like this?" Lisa asked.

"Control," Mark said calmly.

I moved to another box. The first file I picked up was of a young boy, a Nephilim named Claudius Saunders. He was born in 1980 and died of an unknown infectious disease in 1987. His weapon was unknown. His file chronicled his short life and battle with this flesh-eating disease.

It was the first time I had felt sorry for a Neph. He was only a child. I can't say that when I was seven my thoughts and actions were any different from Claudius's. He didn't go out of his way to hurt anyone. The only suffering I saw in his file was his own.

I finished Claudius's file and had an overwhelming sense of sympathy for the young Nephilim. Until this point, Marcus and Aramos were my only real reference points. I envisioned all of them to be conniving, malicious, and evil.

I pulled another box off the shelf. It was the file of a boy named Hasani Boothe. "Hey Boothe, I found something you might want to see."

"Give me a minute, I think I found something myself." He was in another aisle.

I looked down at my friend's file and admired the picture of a young Boothe. Under his photo it read:

Hasani Boothe, age seven, adopted by maternal grandparents Henry and Claudia Boothe. Biological mother deceased, father unknown. Boy displays behaviour uncharacteristic of an Eshkar. Invitation was extended to the family to have the boy put under one-week behavioural testing, psychological evaluation, and talent/gift assessments to confirm our suspicions. Adopted father and E.I. Council Chairman, Henry Boothe, denied permission.

The file then jumps forward to two months before I arrived in Jamaica.

Mr. Boothe is a known associate of Nephilim offender Marcus. He was detained for questioning with respect to the disappearance of Tanya Coy and the attempted kidnapping of Jane Miller.

My heart instantly dropped.

After extensive questioning...

"I found him! I found Marcus's file!" Boothe charged towards me.

"What's wrong?" He touched my shoulder with concern.

I pulled back instinctively.

He gave me a confused glare. He moved to step forward again but paused as Lisa and Mark approached.

"What does Marcus's file say?" Lisa asked Boothe.

Boothe handed the folder to me.

I took a deep breath and opened Marcus's file. There was a picture of a much younger Marcus pinned to the inside cover. He had the same burnt orange freckles and curly brown hair he had now. But his eyes were tender, almost warm. Under his photo, in block letters it read: Marcus, son of Nephilim clan leader, Aramos. PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION.

His file read like a police record for one of those repeat offenders I saw on America's Most Wanted. He was arrested by the E.I.s on numerous charges, ranging from suspicion of murder to coercing an Eshkar official. He was detained and prosecuted five times over the last six years. He is currently wanted in connection with the bus accident and my attempted kidnapping. Despite his numerous periods of detainment and charges, he has never been convicted.

Mark's mouth hung open. "Marcus is Aramos's son? I should have taken him out when I had the chance." He closed his eyes. "I can see it now. I'd be known as the Eshkar who took out Aramos's own son. I'd be greeted by cheering crowds. I'd get medals and free food."

I flipped through the pages. That's all there was! I expected more. Where did he come from? Where is he now? This file was no help.

"Has anyone found any information about Aramos or the Ancients?" I handed the file back to Boothe.

They all shook their heads.

"But I did find Dr. Coy's file," Mark said, twisting the manila folder around in his hand.

"Put that back!" I demanded. I thought back to the Dr. Coy I saw in the cafeteria. How broken he looked. "His daughter is missing. Privacy is the least we could give him."

A loud bang rang out in the distance. I looked down at my watch. Our time was up.

Boothe watched my movements attentively.

"What?" I asked roughly.

"You tell me," He answered softly.

You're a liar. I feel like an idiot for ever trusting you.

The banging became louder and more aggressive.

"Jane, tell me what's wrong," Boothe insisted as he moved in close.

The words were stuck in the back of my throat. The longer I stared at him the more the words felt like they were choking me.

Lisa sorted through the files that we had read and returned them to their boxes. "Millicent sounds impatient," She said as she slipped the box onto the shelf. "I think we should hurry."

Then there came a loud, deep voice from the other side of the door.

"This is the Council Guard. We know you are in there. Surrender yourselves!"

## ~Boothe~

### Chapter Seventeen: Narrow Escape

Mark found the only exit in the building, a staircase leading up to the second floor. When we reached the base of the steps, I realized that the Council Guard, the-kill-first-ask-questions-later faction of the Eshkar armed forces, had breached the upper level and were making their way down the stairs. I quickly pulled Jane and the others under the staircase into a small hollow between the descending steps and the floor. Jane's arm slipped away. I reached out and grabbed her tightly. Heavy feet were coming down the stairs fast. Thankfully, the wide set concrete stairs blocked us, giving us a few extra moments unnoticed.

"Oh, we are dead," Mark said frantically. "Maybe not all of us; I think I've got a good chance at getting away."

"Quiet." I needed a second of silence to think.

"I would love some Jerk Chicken right now," Mark whispered mournfully.

"Shut it." Lisa hit Mark in the arm.

"Face it. There's no way out," Mark grumbled. "If I ask them nicely maybe they'll give me one last meal."

I ran my palm across the cement wall. "Yes there is."  The weak spot.

I started in on the cement wall with a few precise blows. I timed each blow to coincide with the flow of the hard footsteps above. It was working. The concrete crumbled revealing the wired interior frame. A few more punches and a small whole was made, allowing a gust of salty air to flow in. I grit my teeth and continued to punch as blood from my knuckles stained the cement rubble. All of us pulled frantically at the remaining weakened frame until the hole was big enough for a body to pass through.

"Ladies first," I said, reaching for Jane.

"Lisa first." Jane turned and helped Lisa through the hole.

Jane followed her, then Mark and finally me. When I made it through, I realized that we had escaped the fire only to be trapped by water. We had our backs pressed against the side of the building that sat on the bank of a cliff overlooking a rough tide. There were only a few inches between our feet and the sharp, jagged rocks below.

Time was against us. In a few moments, they'd realize that weren't in the warehouse. They'll do a sweep, see the hole under the steps and come for us. We'd be trapped and easily picked off.

"I'm open to suggestions," I said to the group. "Anyone?"

"I think I've got one, but it's tricky," Jane offered.

A sharp wind came off the ocean, biting me as it passed.

"Anything is better than standing here." Mark tucked his hands under his armpits for warmth.

"The embankment," she said, pointing to her left.

"You mean that sliver of dirt sticking out of the side of the cliff?" Mark clarified.

"I think we can make it there. From there we can hike down to the shore," Jane continued.

With no one putting forward any other ideas, we slowly head down the cliff. One missed step and it would be over. No one could survive the fall from that height. If they miraculously survived the fall, the rough tide beating against the shore would crush them.

We made it to the embankment. Thankfully, the lip of the cliff concealed us from anyone who would be standing above. We were there for a few seconds when we heard the voices and footsteps of the Council Guard.

"They could have fallen over the cliff?" One officer asked another.

"No one could survive that fall and I don't see any bodies," another said. "They must have slipped past us."

"If we lose them Glenroy will kill us. He made it very clear that he needs both of them alive."

"I say we leave. Tell Glenroy that they fell off the cliff. I'm tired of doing his dirty work and getting nothing out of it."

"We get to keep our lives," the first officer said angrily. "Stay focused. We need the Miller girl and Boothe alive. The other two, shoot on sight."

The sudden echo of radio static filled the air. The speaker announced that there was suspicious movement at the entrance to Fort Charles. We listened as the heavy footsteps of the Council Guard disappeared.

I knew they wanted Jane. That's been clear from the beginning, but what would they want with me?

"Shoot on sight," Marked mumbled angrily. "I should have followed my mind and stayed at home. In fact, all of you should have followed my mind. But now thanks to Jane's fight with The General, I am going to die."

Jane held Lisa's hand in hers. The colour had drained from Lisa's face. "I am so sorry I got you two into this mess."

"As long as I am alive, I won't let anyone take any of you," I promised.

Jane grunted and rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't trust any of their lives to you."

"What does that mean?" I could feel my jaws clenching tightly.

"Well, at best, you're a liar. At worst, you're a kidnapper, maybe a murderer even..."

"Kidnap and murder?" I huffed. "Jane, what are you talking about?"

"So it's liar then." She gritted her teeth and paused for a moment, her chest heaving. She looked cold and withdrawn. Something had changed. She had changed.

"We should try to head back up." She said finally.

"Boothe, you go up first. If you still have your limbs, I'll go up next," Mark said.

Just as Mark finished his sentence, the footsteps returned and stopped directly over our head.

Then it happened. A hand reached down and grabbed Jane by the arm.

No. No. NO! This couldn't be happening. I grabbed at her legs, but I was too late. She vanished over the lip of the cliff. Lisa screamed Jane's name as Mark mumbled a prayer. All I could hear was the blood pumping through my ears. Blood filled my arms, shoulders, and chest, tripling their size.

I punched two holes in the cliff and climbed the cliff like a ladder. I was halfway up the cliff when a long rope dropped past me. Then Jane's face appeared.

"We've got help," she said.

Millicent appeared by her side. "You have to hurry. I sent the Guard to the other side of the Fort. You need to get out of here before they realize I've sent them on a wild chase."

We reached the surface and made it to the car with no sign of the Council Guard. Just then, Vice emerged from the office and ran towards the car.

"Hurry, Boothe get us out of here!" Mark yelled.

I turned the ignition and the car sputtered, but did not start.

"Agh!" Mark yelled as Vice grew close.

After a few more tries, the engine finally turned over. In the distance, the Council Guard emerged from the back of the Fort.

I pressed the gas pedal to the floor.

## ~Jane~

### Chapter Eighteen: Alone

Saturday morning was busy as usual for Aunt Dar, or at least she acted like it was. She was up by 5:30 a.m. cleaning, and left to do her shopping by 9:00 a.m. I told her very little about our trip. This was intentional, so that if the Council Guard came after her, she could honestly say she knew nothing.

By the afternoon, the group had gathered again. Lisa was in my living room, meticulously making notes on yesterday's journey. Mark was in the kitchen looking through the cupboards for banana chips. And Boothe was sitting by the window, clenching and unclenching his fists.

I said very little to Boothe during our drive from Port Royal and I avoided his phone calls all night. By midnight, he seemed to have taken the hint that I wasn't interested in talking to him. But then he showed up at my house today with Lisa and Mark, so maybe he didn't get it.

From across the room, I stared at Boothe hard. He held my stare, unrepentant.

"I regret dragging you and Mark to Port Royal," I said, turning to Lisa. "You could've been killed."

"If it wasn't for Millicent, we would have," Lisa replied.

When the Council Guard showed up at the archive doors, I thought for sure that it was Millicent's doing. I was surprised and frightened when she pulled me up from the side of the cliff. I envisioned her handing Boothe and me over to the Council Guard, and Lisa and Mark over to their deaths. She did the exact opposite. She snuck us past the Council Guards and off Council property to where Boothe's car was waiting. We owed her our lives.

"I still can't believe that Marcus is Aramos's son. That was a shocker," Lisa said.

"Yeah." I fingered my gran's necklace. "That wasn't the only surprise." I mumbled to myself.

"You've been acting funny since yesterday," Lisa whispered.

I swallowed deeply. "I haven't been acting..."

"Yes, you have." Boothe said from behind me. "You called me a liar, a kidnapper, and a murderer."

Lisa's jaw dropped as her eyes danced between Boothe and me.

I looked over my shoulder to Boothe. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Whatever you found in my file must have been really bad." He stepped closer.

How did he know? He must have seen the file in my hand when he approached me with Marcus's file.

"You should let this go." I turned to face him. "Trust me, I'm doing you a favour."

He stepped even closer. "Don't do me any favours. I want you to say what's on your mind. You're brave enough to take on The General, but you can't talk to me?" His piercing grey eyes narrowed to a squint.

"The difference is that I have never been misled by the Aramos. I know exactly what he's capable of and to what lengths he's willing to go to get it. You on the other hand, I let you in. I cared about you. I trusted you. Only to find out that you are not worth trusting."

I wanted so badly to put on a hard front. But I couldn't stop my eyes from misting over.

"Jane, what are you talking about?" he pinched his dark brows together.

"Do you want me to tell them exactly what your file said?"

He balled his fists and shoved them into his pockets. "I had nothing to do with the accident. I told you that."

"But what you left out is that you were under investigation for it. And you never mentioned anything about Dr. Coy's daughter. I told you how upset Dr. Coy was about his daughter. You acted like it was new news." I swallowed against the lump that rose in my throat. "What else have you been lying about?"

"Nothing!" He reached out to grab me and I pulled away.

"I feel like an idiot for trusting you."

"I have stood by you day and night." He spoke through clenched teeth. "Been there whenever and wherever you needed me. This is the reward?"

His shirt tightened against his swollen arms and chest as he spoke. Soon every sculpted muscle was imprinted in the cotton. He gave me a long, hard look, then backed away and headed for the door.

"What's going on?" Mark enquired as he emerged from the kitchen with his food discovery.

"Boothe's leaving," I answered.

"You're right about that!" Boothe shot back.

I walked over to the front door and held it open. His eyes had fully transformed. His jaw was clenched so tightly that the tendons on his neck stood firm.

"I have gone out of my way to help you, but from now on you're on your own."

He stepped outside onto the empty veranda. I lingered by the door for a moment, so did he. When he stepped out into the sunlight, I closed the door behind him. I remained by the door clutching my gran's necklace and listening to the grumble of his engine.

In my mother's voice, my mind did the I-told-you-so speech. You should have never trusted him. The only one you can trust is yourself. All these people around you will do nothing but hurt you. Leave them and come back home to me.

"I think you guys should go home," I said, turning to Mark and Lisa. "I don't think I'll be good company right now."

Lisa looked past me to the door. "I've known Boothe for years and have never seen him care about anyone as much as he cares for you." My eyes met hers.  "Yes, he should have told you about being investigated. But you must know that he would never hurt you."

"He lied. I can't trust anything that comes out of his mouth."

"Fine. Trust his actions. His father forbade him from ever speaking to you, but he stayed with you. He protected you."

I dropped the pendant, walked over to the dining room table, and pulled out a chair. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Oh! Oh!" Mark raised his hand like an eager student. "I've got something we can talk about. I stole some papers from the archives." He unfurled a stack of paper from his back pocket. "How's this for a new topic?"

"How did you get this out of the building?" Lisa shifted the papers with the tip of her pen.

Mark raised his brow and gave a sly smile as he pointed downwards. Lisa looked like she would throw up.

"I saw the file just as the Council Guard started banging on the door. I had to get this out of the building and I couldn't think of anywhere else to put it."

"That's disgusting, Mark." Using the tip of her pen, she pushed the papers back towards Mark.

"You'll sing a different tune very soon," Mark cleared his throat and held the papers high. "Will and Testament. One property residing in Spanish Town, consisting of two acres. One open lot consisting of four acres in Vere, Clarendon. Six registered Ancients: Quaco, Miles, Damien..."

Lisa ripped the sheet away from Mark and quickly skimmed to the bottom of the page "Menna, Peacota, and Crecha," she read slowly. Then suddenly, her eyes became sullen and she dropped the paper into her lap.

"Lisa, what is it?" I took the paper from her. On the last line of the page it read, "This is the registered property of William S. Coy, and have been transferred to his son Christopher M. Coy upon his death."

"Okay." I took a deep breath. "Let's not jump to conclusions. It's like you guys said, back in the day Eshkar and Nephilim owned Ancients."

"Jane, Dr. Coy owned the Ancient that attacked you." She slid a picture across the table. "His name is Crecha."

Instantly my heart began to thunder.  The jaundice toned eyes, wirey limbs and wild hair.  It was him. "So, what does this mean?"

"The good news is that he doesn't own Crecha anymore. It's against Council Code," Mark added. "The not so good news is that Coy's a liar and can't be trusted. You described the attack in the market to Coy and the E.I. agents. There's no way that Coy didn't recognize the description of his own Ancient."

"There must be a reasonable explanation," Lisa said finally. "He must have been protecting us in some way."

"Wake up, Lisa." Mark said casually. "Your dear teacher is a liar. He's dirty. Corrupt."

Lisa and Mark began to argue back and forth. Lisa was insisting that there must be a good explanation.

"We've known Dr. Coy for a long time. We owe him the benefit of the doubt!" she yelled.

"The evidence is in black and white." Mark replied calmly.

All I could hear was my mother's voice in my head. You can't trust anyone.

"My mother's right." I rose to my feet and began to pace the floor. One by one, people will show their true deceitful colours. It's only a matter of time.

"I'm sorry. You both have to leave." I folded my arms and bit back my tears. "Now, please."

"What?" There was real hurt behind Lisa's confused glare.

"I'm sorry. It's not personal. It's just that I'd rather end our friendship on a high note, before the backstabbing and betrayal begins." I cleared the lump from my throat.

"Jane, I would never..." Lisa began to plea.

"For the record, you guys have been the best friends I have ever had. I will always remember you as the kindest, most selfless people I have ever known." I wiped a tear from my cheek. "Please leave."

I held the door open as they quietly left. I closed the door and let my heavy body slide down to the floor.

I sat on the floor for a long time, thinking about what to do next. Do I go back to Canada, tail between my legs? My mother would love that. I would hate it. I needed to figure out what was going on. If I went home, I would never know the truth.

There was a loud and sudden bang at the door that jolted me back to reality. I didn't move. I didn't want to see anyone right now. I had too much to think about. The banging got louder and began to sound panicked. I thought about Aunt Dar and wondered if it might be her at the door with a bag full of groceries and a knife at her back. With the increasing number of shady characters in my life, anything was possible. I wiped my face clean and opened the door.

It wasn't Aunt Dar. It was the last person I wanted to see. "Officer Glenroy Mamos."

"Miss Miller," he greeted me with a wicked grin.

"Officer, I hope you've come to give me an update on the search for Marcus and Aramos." I leaned my drained body against the door frame.

"May I come in?" He stepped forward, attempting to mount the final step into my home. I held my hand out and stopped him before he crossed the threshold. He flashed a crooked smile and returned to his place on the veranda.

"Why are you here?"

"Miss Miller, let me start by requesting that we be honest with one another. It will make this whole process go a lot smoother."

"Alright. Tell me honestly, why haven't you caught my attackers? How many leads have you followed up on in the last month? Why does it seem like everyone, including the one's I should be able to trust, is out to get me?"

Glenroy's nostrils flared as his eyes transformed from brown to grey. "Where were you between 3:00 p.m. and 6:00 p.m. yesterday?"

"I'll make you a deal, you answer any one of my questions and I will tell you exactly where I was."

Glenroy's whole face curled into a scowl. "A number of incidents have occurred within the last twelve hours that I believe you and your friends were involved in." His voice became rough.

"Really."

"Yesterday an undercover Council Guard that I hired to trail you went missing. At 11:00 this morning, we found this officer in an abandoned train station. He was hog tied with duct tape. Do you know anything about this?"

Boothe immediately came to mind.

"You had someone trailing me?"

"We have reason to believe that Marcus's old friend, Mr. Hasani Boothe, is responsible for this crime."

We didn't leave for Port Royal until after lunch. At 11:00 Boothe would have been in class. It is possible that he snuck out of school, took care of this agent and then met me for lunch. Given his track record for keeping secrets, it's not likely that he would have said anything to me about it.

"Are you saying that a seventeen year old managed to get the jump on a trained Council Guard, hog tie him, and somehow get him to an abandoned train station, all without so much as a scratch to show for it. No wonder none of you can find Marcus. Tell me Officer Glenroy, do you train these men yourself or is this a systematic issue?"

The grey smoke danced in his eyes. I had set a fire.

"I am not one to be played with, young lady. Especially after that stunt you pulled yesterday at the archives. Stealing Dr. Chung's pass and posing as research students. I could arrest you right now."

"If you had proof that I committed a crime, you would have arrested me by now."

"Oh, I have my proof. There are documents missing from one of the files." He raised his brows. "I'm sure that the document is somewhere on these premises."

Dr. Coy's will and testament was sitting in a messy pile on the dining room table.

"I have never intentionally stolen anything in my life."

"Maybe one of your criminal friends took it. It could have been Lisa, the good girl gone bad. Maybe it was Boothe, your knight in dark armour. I have the most evidence against Mark Chung. After all, it was his father's pass you used to gain access to the archives. Witnesses indicate that he left the premises with a little more than he came in with."

"Leave my friends out of this," I barked. "It's me you want..."

"Well, they say if you can't catch the bull, catch his calf."

"Is that a threat?"

He sneered as his smoky eyes widened. "Absolutely."

## ~Boothe~

### Chapter Nineteen: Playing Coy

I stood by the sofa and looked around Dr. Coy's living room. The windows in Dr. Coy's wood and panel house were barred with large planks of wood. It looked like he was preparing for a hurricane. But hurricane season wasn't for another few months, which meant that he was either trying to keep something serious out, or keep himself securely in.

My phone buzzed. It was Lisa. It was her third call in the last fifteen minutes. I pressed ignore and shoved my phone back into my pocket. Last night when Jane broke the news, I saw the look in Lisa's eyes; it was condemnation. Jane was worse. She regretted ever trusting me. She probably regretted the day I came into her life.

I walked aimlessly around Coy's living room, picking up odd scraps of paper that he had piled on almost every flat surface. The words scribbled on the scraps of paper were unrecognizable. I stopped in front of the floor to ceiling bookshelf in the corner of the room. It was the only surface that was scrap-free. I ran my finger along the spine of one of the leather-bound books. A thick film of black dust lifted off its surface. I pulled the book from the shelf and dusted the film off the front. Embossed in black on the cover was a name that was well known in the Eshkar community: William Coy, Eshkar historian.

My father told me that William Coy lived and wrote in a time when Eshkars and Nephilims lived openly amongst Normals. Fast forward thirty years, Normals now live in ignorance. If Aramos stood in the middle of the street and let his army of Neph soldiers loose, no one would know what was happening to them. They'd probably think it was some sort of parade. It's hard to think that someone can be so ignorant of a force that affects their daily lives. Nephs use their weapons every day to hurt people, break apart families and feed the flames of anger and hatred.

William Coy's books should be available for all to read, including Normals. Normals need to be reminded of the evil that's out there and what that evil can and will do.

"Do you want something to eat? I don't have much; I haven't been to the market lately. I think I have a piece of bulla in the cupboard..." Coy said as he emerged from the kitchen. He ran his cracked hands through his tattered dreadlocks.

"I'd rather talk." I returned the book to the shelf and took a seat in the chair opposite Coy.

"I'm not the conversationalist I used to be." He laughed nervously.

I leaned forward in my chair. "I'm going to get right into it. What does Aramos want with Jane?"

"I-I-I, I don't know." His eyes shifted nervously around the room.

"I need the truth, Coy." I snapped my fingers by his face. "Look at me. I need the truth."

A tear ran down Coy's cheek. "They have my daughter." His lips quivered. "They'll kill her."

Yes. The one Jane thinks I kidnapped. "Aramos has your daughter?"

He nodded. "If I say anything to anyone..."

"She'll die if you don't say anything!"

He buried his face in his hands. "Marcus," he said between sobs, "Marcus took her."

I know Marcus better than I'd like to admit. He does things for one of two reasons: entertainment or manipulation. Marcus was reckless, but he wasn't stupid. He wouldn't kidnap the daughter of a well-connected man just for fun. It wouldn't be worth the backlash. So that leaves manipulation as his motive.

"What did Marcus ask you to do?"

Coy's red-rimmed eyes met mine.

"I know he asked you for something."

"He wants Jane. At first, I refused to help him. Then he threatened to take my daughter, Tanya. I didn't think he would do it, but as a precaution I sent her to stay with some relatives in Miami." His lips began to quiver again. "When I didn't cooperate, he grabbed her, right off the street."

I felt for Coy, but I had to stay focused. "What does Aramos want with Jane?"

Coy lifted his meager frame from the chair and hobbled over to the book case where his father's journals were kept. He pulled out an old leather-covered book from the bottom of the shelf.

"This is the story of Jane's ancestors dating back to the first one to be granted the gift." He handed me the book. Many of its pages were cracked and frayed around the edges. Some of the handwritten text had faded to the point of illegibility.

"There's probably close to a thousand pages here."

"It's nine hundred and twenty seven pages of one of the most significant stories in Eshkar history." The light of excitement that once filled Coy's eyes had briefly returned. "Jane is the last in a long line of telekinetics commonly called Earth Movers."

"The thing she does with the dirt."

"Dirt, water, metals and anything else that comes out of the ground. She can manipulate it. Move it. Mould it."

"Okay. What does Jane's gift have to do with anything?"

"Don't you see?" He grabbed the book from my hand and rustled through the pages. "Jane is the answer."

My phone buzzed. It was Lisa, again. I pressed the power button and watched the screen go black before shoving the phone back into my pocket.

"Coy, you're not making sense."

"Did you hear that?" Coy said as he stumbled into his coffee table then and fell onto the floor. "Someone's at the window."

I walked over to the window and peered through the wood planks. Coy nervously shrunk into a nearby chair.

"No one's out there," I said with growing frustration. "Now, you were about to tell me about Jane and the General."

"Oh no!" Coy pulled at his hair. "I was warned. I should have listened. They're going to kill my precious Tanya."

"Coy, I want to help you. I want to find Tanya. The only way I can do that is to know what's going on."

"No. You have to go." He stood up and pushed me towards the door. "Now!"

I shrugged Coy off. "Before I go, I have one last question."

Coy looked nervously around the room before retreating to a corner where he crouched. "I'm so sorry, baby. Tanya, I'm so sorry," he whispered to the ground.

I crouched down beside him. "The other day I went through my father's safe and I found two documents. One talked about a secret between him and Glenroy. The other was my birth certificate. My biological father's name, the hospital where I was born, my birthday, all of it blacked out."

"What did Henry say?" He asked without looking up.

"My father said I was ungrateful and that I didn't appreciate the life that he had made for me." In short, my father did everything in his power not to talk about what I found.

I extended my hand to Coy. Reluctantly, he grabbed hold and I lifted him to his feet.

"Your mother was my friend. Her death hit us all really hard."

"Murder."

"Yes," he hung his head low, "murder."

"She did a good job of hiding her pregnancy from us. It wasn't until her death that whispers started about a baby."

"I'm just going to get to the point. Who's my biological father?"

He shrugged. "There was a lot of speculation. But no one knew for sure."

I looked over to the shelf of William Coy's journals. "Is there anything in those books about her?"

He walked over to the bookshelf and withdrew a book from the top shelf. "I made a promise to your father to never show you this." He held the book to his chest. "I knew I could never keep such a promise. We have a right to know our history. That's why my father wrote these journals."

I took the book from his hand and opened it to the earmarked page. The passage talked about Josephine Boothe, daughter of the Chairman of the Eshkar Council, Henry Boothe.

Ms. Josephine Boothe, age 22, was detained and imprisoned by the Eshkar Council for reasons only known to the Council board of directors. Henry Boothe fought the Council's decision to imprison his daughter and demanded a formal inquiry. While in prison, awaiting the outcome of the Council inquiry, she gave birth to a son.

The inquiry failed to produce any sound evidence to support her ongoing detention. She was released.

One day after Catherine's release she was found dead in a vacant plot of land near Rose Hall in Montego Bay. No suspects to her murder were found.

Soon after, Mr. Henry Boothe resigned from his position on the Council.

"This is it." I yelped as I flipped through the pages. "Where is the rest of the story?" I threw the book down onto the coffee table. "My mother was arrested, released, and then killed. For what?"

"If you want to get to the bottom of this you'll have to talk to the people involved."

Oh, I will. Starting with my adopted father.

"Before you go," Coy grabbed my arm, "the book." He handed me the tattered Miller family legend. "Please make sure Jane gets this, and tell her I'm sorry."

I stepped into my car and turned on my phone. I had six voice messages. I opened my mailbox. Message one, marked urgent. It was Lisa. She said only three words, "Jane is missing."

## ~Boothe~

### Chapter Twenty: Hot like Fyah {Hot like fire}

By the time I arrived at Jane's house, I was so hot I felt like I was exhaling pure steam. It was stupid for her to push her friends away. How many Nephs and Ancients need to attack you before you realize that your life is in danger? You need all the help you can get.

I knocked on Jane's door so hard that the wood began to splinter.

"Oh, it's you." Aunt Dar sighed. "Thank you for coming so quickly." She gestured for me to enter.

Lisa was the second to welcome me with a big hug. "I called you at least fifteen times today. You didn't answer."

I regretted not answering my phone. "I was busy."

"She's gone," Aunt Dar whimpered as she wrung her hands. "When I came home from the market the house was empty. At first I thought she left with you or Lisa. But then I found this note."

Aunt Dar passed me a small slip of paper. Jane didn't say much. She kept it short and sweet.

"Your life is in danger as long as I am around. I love you too much to see you get hurt. Tell my friends I'm sorry, but it's better this way. Now they can go back to their normal lives."

"Then I called Lisa," Aunt Dar said tearfully. "She told me what happened."

"Jane asked us to leave, too." Lisa added.

"No." Mark popped a chip into his mouth. "She kicked us out. She thought we were going to stab her in the back like Mr. Charm over here. She said something about ending the friendship on a high..."

"Has she completely lost her mind?" My hands grew hot. It was hard to keep them in my pockets. But I had to. I knew that once my hands came out of my pocket, I'd loose my handle on my anger. "She thinks she's gonna be any safer out there alone?"

"Hey, don't shoot the handsome messenger." Mark threw up his hands.

Tears welled in Aunt Dar's eyes and her lips began to quiver. "Please, you have to find her. She could be hurt somewhere."

Lisa wrapped her arm around Aunt Dar's shoulder. "Jane's strong. I'm sure she's okay."

"Or in a ditch..." Mark said nonchalantly as he leaned back against a wall.

"Shut it, Mark!" Lisa barked.

"What?" He licked his finger and ran it along the bottom of the bowl, then licked the chip crumbs off the tips of his fingers. "Everyone in this room knows that there are more than just beaches and blue skies out there. There's real evil. Don't jump all over me because I choose to face reality."

Mark and Lisa continued to bicker back and forth. Aunt Dar escaped to the kitchen where she began banging around pots and dishes. By this time the heat that had started in my fingers had travelled throughout my limbs and had reached the base of my neck. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths.  I can't explode.  Not now. Not here.

"I'm going out to look for Jane. If you hear from her, call me." I instructed as I made my way to the front door.

Dusk was beginning to settle over the city, which meant that I had about an hour before the sun completely set and Jane would be lost to the Nephilims of the night. Where do I start?

As soon as my hand touched the car door, my phone began to vibrate. I peered at William Coy's journal on the passenger seat. This book answers Jane's questions about who she is and where she came from. Hopefully, I'll find her alive enough to read it. My phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me, Mark."

"Stop fooling around..."

"Relax. Jane's here. She came around the back."

When I entered the room again, Aunt Dar was hugging Jane tightly and kissing her forehead. "Oh, thank heavens you're safe. I'm going to handcuff you to the bed."

I stood by the door and watched as everyone celebrated Jane's return.

"What were you thinking?" I yelled above the celebration.

"I wasn't." She looked around at each of us. "I thought that you guys would be safer without me around. To be honest, I thought that I would be safer without you. But when I got to the edge of the city I realized that it was a lot easier to run away when I didn't know what was chasing me."

I was so hot I could spit fire. "You are selfish. Did you ever stop to think how this little stunt would make anyone else feel?"

"I'm so..."

"Yeah, I know, you're sorry." I threw the book that Coy had given me on the floor and headed back for the door.

"Boothe, please don't go." She trailed behind me.

I didn't turn.

"I had time to think. I was wrong about everything. I shouldn't have treated you the way I did. I knew deep down that you wouldn't hurt me. I guess I was just scared." She was at my side now, clutching my hand.

I pointed to the floor where I had dropped the book. "That's from Coy."

I continued on my course towards the door, but Jane ran out in front and barred my way. I met Jane's wide silver eyes. She mouthed the word "please." I thought about staying, but in the back of my mind, I kept hearing her say how much she didn't trust me and what a liar I was.

"Excuse me," I said, looking beyond her.

She bit her bottom lip as she cleared the way.

Outside, darkness had fallen. It was time for the creatures of the night to take centre stage.

## ~Jane~

###  Chapter Twenty-One: Serious

"Read it out loud," Mark called out as he slumped back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his neck. "I want to hear what the famous Eshkar historian William Coy had to say about you."

I picked up the file from the floor where Boothe had left it. My family members' lives and my life were all summed up in these tattered pages.

I opened the cover. The paper felt like it would crumble if I handled it too roughly. I carefully turned to the first page.

Herein is the history and the destiny of the Earth Movers. The story begins in 1539 with a man named Nkrumah, a farmer who lived in a small village in the Kingdom of Congo. This simple farmer was unique as he had the ability to bend the soil, rocks, and metals in the earth to his will. When asked about the origins of his ability, the farmer humbly spoke about a visit he received from a stranger. He said that one day while in his field, a stranger approached his well requesting water. He gave the man water and then invited him into his home for tea.

Night had fallen. Nkrumah recommended that the traveller stay the night with his family as their guest. He and the traveller were up until morning speaking on all manner of things and laughing like old friends. When the sun began to rise, the traveller extended his hand to the Nkrumah and uttered these words:

"There is great strife on this earth."

The farmer remembered the grumbling of his parents and the stories they told about strange giant men burning villages and making off with the children.

"Those who were not destined for this soil have invaded this plain like a deadly affliction," the stranger continued. They must be irradiated. I have chosen you to take on this vital mission. The ground that you humbly toil will become your ally. Should you desire that mountain to move and throw itself into the sea, all you have to do is speak this command, stretch forth your arms and the mountain will obey."

The farmer thought about the mountains in the distance and wondered how an ordinary farmer could command such a great entity to do anything. In size, he was smaller than an ant compared to the great mountain. In age, he was not a twinkle in his great ancestors' eyes when the mountain was created.

"Nkrumah, you have a level of humility and reverence I have not seen since Enoch," the stranger said with a smile.

"What will I do with such an incredible gift?" Nkrumah asked.

"You will work with your ally to rid the earth of the immortal fallen ones, the Nephilim."

"Who are you?" Nkrumah asked.

"I am a messenger, sent by one who is tired of the evil that has plagued the land."

Before the stranger left, he instructed Nkrumah to prepare and wait for his return. He resumed his life as a farmer by day and practiced his new gift under the bright light of the moon.

Later that year, the stranger returned with instruction for Nkrumah to take his family and head north. So he, his wife Cuffani, and their young son, Suah, left their small village.

It was on his trip north that he encountered his first Nephilim. His name was Azul. He was living as a merchant, specializing in the sale of the slaves from other conquered nations.

Azul had a reputation as a cunning thief, heartless kidnapper, and ruthless murderer. The people of his community feared him; no one dared to challenge him. As such, he was taken by surprise by Nkrumah's fearless attack. Nkrumah opened the ground beneath Azul's feet and buried him under the earth. The people of the community cheered.

Nkrumah and his family continued their venture north. Word of him spread quickly and many tribes were calling for him to visit their villages to rid them of their menace. He travelled throughout the continent, defeating every fallen one he encountered. That is, until he met Aramos.

Aramos was a pureblood Nephilim. He inherited his human mother's smooth complexion, round eyes and strong jaw line. From his angel father Shem, he inherited immortality and heavenly knowledge forbidden to mankind. The most important and dangerous thing he inherited was the language of the heavens. Contained in this language are the words used to create and destroy life.

Chanting the angelic words, Aramos manipulated the minds of mortal men, coaxing them to do his wicked bidding. Those with a dark heart fell easily under his spell. They call these men The Corrupted.

His offspring lacked his immortality but possessed his passion for corruption, his great strength, and his power.

Aramos's army of the corrupted and his offspring met Nkrumah in the open Sahara Desert. Nkrumah fought vigorously and won the fight. But, Aramos escaped.

Nkrumah, now seventy-one, felt the wear and tear of his warrior life in his bones. But he was determined to find Aramos and finish his life's work. Nkrumah had several children, but only one, a son named Suah, had inherited his father's gift. He trained his son to use the gift and take over his mission.

Word came to Suah that Aramos has taken a special interest in a small island in the West Indies called Jamaica. There was something alluring about this country, both for a great good and a great darkness. At this point, with the insurgence of Pirates, prostitution, gambling, and drunkenness, darkness was gaining headway. There, in Port Royal, in the midst of the eye of the darkness, Aramos had happily planted his roots.

Suah accepted his father's mission. He, his wife and young son followed Aramos to Jamaica. It did not take much searching to locate Aramos in the busy Port Royal hub.

On the morning of June 7, 1692, Suah launched his attack. This time Aramos was prepared. They met on Lime Street in the centre of Port Royal.  Aramos and his army outnumbered Suah by the hundreds. They had new weapons of war on their side. Rifles and cannons had taken the place of fists and spears.

"Kill the earth mover, kill his wife, kill their child and we will live free forever." Aramos yelled to his army.

"Run!" Suah shouted to his wife. "Take our son and head for the hills. There is a small village hidden by the trees. I have arranged for them to take you in just in case I don't make it."

He gave his wife a tender kiss. "Go now." He held the army at bay while she ran off between the houses and disappeared into the nearby trees.

The army launched their attack. Suah raised his hands, creating a stone wall. The earth followed his fluid movements, sending wave after wave of rolling dirt to knock down his enemies.

Aramos looked on bitterly as Suah defeated every attack. When the dust settled, Suah stood valiantly in the midst of Aramos's lifeless army.

"Load the cannon!" Aramos shouted to his remaining flank. "He cannot defeat this weapon." The barrel was loaded, the gun power poured and a shot was fired directly at Suah. He had never seen a contraption that could shoot solid metal. Suah acted quickly, retreating into his stone fortress. Unfortunately, the stone wall was not strong enough to withstand the cannon's blow. The cannon ball ripped through the fortress, hitting Suah squarely in the chest.

Suah was finished. He knew it. But he refused to give up.  This was his father's mission.  Even if it cost him his last breathe, he was determined to see it though.  With his last bit of strength he raised his hand. There was a thunderous rumble and the ground began to tremble. The ground began to separate, creating a deep cavern that ran the full length of Lime street. With his last breath, he commanded a great tsunami wave to rise up from the sea and swallow Lime Street together with the retreating Nephilim army.

As for his wife and child, they found safe refuge in a small tribe of Maroons that lived in the sheltered hills of the island. There they lived peacefully, keeping their lineage and power a secret.

As for Aramos, he was not killed in the battle. He still lives on.

Ridding the earth of pureblood Nephilims is and will forever be the duty of the Earth Mover.

I closed the book and sank back into my chair. I am the descendant of Nkrumah and Suah, the earth mover who buried half the town of Port Royal. That's why I have been so fascinated with the earthquake.

It was all clear now. My destiny was to rid the earth of Aramos, a pureblood Nephilim. That's why he was after me.

I'm going to throw up.

"Oh, you're a telekinetic; moving things with your mind. That's cool. So an angel gave your family this power?" Mark asked curiously.

"It didn't say angel. It said messenger," Lisa replied.

"So, if it's not an angel, the stranger could be another human. Oh, or maybe he was another pureblood Nephilim with a conscience. Does this still make you an Eshkar?"

"Mark, please..." I pleaded.

"Well," Mark rubbed his chin, "no offense, but at the end of the day, I can't see you killing anything."

Neither can I.

"You against Aramos, the General, the leader of the Neph clan? You'll never win," Mark continued. "He is a thousand times your age and a thousand times your strength."

"Mark!" Lisa barked.

"Just stating the obvious." He threw his hands in the air. "If she can't handle Marcus, how is she going to..."

"Shut it!" Lisa shot Mark a sharp glance. She then turned to me. "This is why Aramos has been trying to get to you. He's afraid."

"So why am I the one shaking?" I pushed the file as far away from me as I could and buried my shaking hands under my armpits. I replayed everything that had happened in my life and it all made sense, except for one thing. "I have never heard of anyone in my family having to face off with that monster. Why now? Why me?"

"It said that Suah's wife and child hid. Maybe he thought that he had ended the line of earth movers with the death of Suah. I suspect that when you were two he was tipped off that your bloodline had survived," Lisa speculated out loud.

"Since then, my mother has had me on the run, until she decided to have me come back. What if I don't want to kill him? What if I refuse?"

"I don't think that matters much to him," Mark said calmly. "He knows that your bloodline survived. He will kill you and then he'll come after the rest of your family. He won't stop until all traces of the Miller family are gone."

I pushed my chair away from the table and began pacing. My head was pounding. My chest was pounding. I really am going to throw up.

"I need some air," I said as I ran for the door.

"Jane, NO!" I heard as I closed the door behind me.

Outside, darkness had taken over.

## ~Jane~

### Chapter Twenty-Two: Hataclaps

####  {Utter collapse into chaos}

"Jane, it's not safe," I heard Lisa say from behind.

I stepped into the dewy night and listened to the familiar zap that the light made when a mosquito made the mistake of getting too close. There were more clouds than stars in the sky. It made everything darker.  Now a-days darkness seems to puts me on edge.  But it doesn't matter.  I need space to breathe.  I swallowed hard and started walking.

This me-killing-Aramos thing will not happen. Mark was right, I can't take him on. I'll never win. But if I don't, my family will die. I buried my face in my hands and exhaled deeply.

"Jane!" Lisa yelled as she raced towards me.

"I'm in just as much danger today as I was yesterday and the day before that," I called back.

In the distance, car tires were screeching and truck horns were blowing. My side street was quiet. This meant no run-ins with the chatty neighbour or echoes from the children soaking up their last bit of freedom before bedtime. It was just me and my thoughts.

"Jane, wait." Lisa was insistent. "This is prime time for Nephs. It's not safe. We have to go back inside."

I kept walking as she raced to catch up. "You don't have to follow me out here," I said as she reached by my side.

"I know." Lisa panted as she looked around nervously.

"Lisa..."

"I know. I know. You want to be alone, well tough bananas. I'm not leaving."

I stopped and turned to face her. "I can't do it. So I can throw a few pieces of dirt around, but I've had no training and even less practice. Now with Dr. Coy certifiably crazy... I can't do this. There has to be another way. What if I run away? I'll promise never to come back."

"No. With your family alive there's a chance that another Eshkar will be born to fulfill the mission. He won't take that chance. And if you leave, your family will have no one to protect them."

"This isn't fair!" I screamed into the night. This was so far from the normal life I wanted.

"We won't let you deal with this alone." She put her arm around my shoulder. "We're in this together."

"No. I can't let you guys take that risk."

"That's not your decision to make, Jane."

I opened my mouth to protest but was silenced by a sharp pain that seized my chest. This feeling only happened when a Nephilim was around. Lisa continued to speak while I scanned the darkness for the red eyes of danger or the unrefined look of an Ancient.

"Jane, you can at least pay attention when I am...oh my gosh, we need to get out of here. Now!" Lisa halted abruptly. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she searched the darkness. I followed her eyes to the shadowed figures approaching from the opposite side of the street.

I swallowed the lump that had gathered in my throat. "Are those the Nephs?"

She nodded.

The two figures crossed the street and continued in our direction.

"Jane, we need to go back to the house, now."

As we turned back to head to the house, the echo of deep sobbing drew my eyes from Lisa's face down to the curb. Sitting on the curb, next to the neighbour's white hatchback car was a young boy. He wore a traditional school uniform with his khaki pants rolled above his bare feet. His small frame shook as he cried.

"He's still got his school uniform on," I said, approaching the little boy. "He must be lost."

"I'll call the police while we walk back to safety." Lisa pulled out her phone.

"We can't just leave him here. We have to get him off the street. No one is safe with a Neph nearby. Hey, kid," I said as I gently touched his shoulder. "Are you lost?"

The boy raised his head slightly. "No," He whispered in a tender voice.

I searched the darkness. The two approaching figures had stopped by the mango tree three houses away.

"You can't stay on the road. It's too dangerous."

He turned his face towards me, his mouth curling into a sinister scowl that looked out of place on his tender face. His eyes blazed blood red. "It is dangerous. But it's too late for you to run."

Nephilim.

He grabbed my wrist before I could pull away. Immediately, a violent pain shot through the place he held. I screamed as every nerve in my arm burned like it was on fire.

He let out a short but dark laugh. "This is the girl that has everyone up in arms? You?" He asked mockingly.

As he stood to his feet, I realized he was not a child, but a man, with deep lines layering his forehead and creases between his brows.  The childlike appearance must be a guise this Nephilim uses to lure victims.

"Let go!" I commanded as I tried to pull my arm out of his vice grip.

"I gwain kill you," he hissed.

"Get off of her!" Lisa lunged at him, but he blocked her blow and yelled something that the blinding sparks behind my eyes prevented me from hearing. The men from by the tree soon joined him and one of them picked up Lisa with one arm. She flashed wildly, but he held firm.

"You've got me," I said weakly. "Let her go."

"It's more fun with a witness," he hissed.

"You were sent for me." I gritted my teeth as another jolt of pain shot through my skin. "You've got me. I won't run."

"I've been hired to kill you," he said coldly. "And I enjoy my work."

"Who...ARGH!" The pain was intense, like someone had thrown kerosene oil on my arm and lit me on fire.

"Who?" He smiled.

Lisa no longer struggled. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, pasting her fine blond hair to her chin.

"Who hired me? Is that what you wanted to ask?" He paused as if awaiting my reply. "I could tell you, since you're about to die. But simply telling you is too easy. I'll give it to you in a riddle. The one who hired me stands to lose what they most desire." He paused for a moment. "Well that could be anyone, couldn't it?" he noted to himself. "If I am going to give you a clue, it should be a fair one."

His grip tightened. The fire continued to travel up my arm until it rested between my shoulder blades. I had to think of some way to save Lisa, but the pain scrambled my thoughts, making it difficult to connect one thought with another.

"I'll give you a better one-" he continued.

"I said let us go!" I shouted.

"Don't you want to know who hired me?" He asked with a devilish grin. "I guarantee you'll be surprised."

The fire crept through my shoulder blades and squeezed the base of my neck. He smiled brightly. My heart beat raced violently as pressure seized my chest. I focused on pushing the pressure away, just as I had during my run in with the Ancient I had met in the market. To my right, out of the corner of my eye, the neighbour's car slowly inched off the ground. My heart thundered as the car rose higher. The light pole next to the car shook then dislodged itself from its cement foundation. Sparks flew as the downed power lines thrashed. A flash of fear registered in his eyes.

No more talking. He will see.

The fearful expression subsided and was replaced with a smug look, as if he were welcoming the challenge. He grabbed my free wrist with his second hand. As I looked in his blood-filled eyes, the pain crept slowly up my neck and settled behind my ears. The intense burning reached my temple within a few moments. I clenched my fist with my last bit of strength and focused on the ground beneath him. I shook the sidewalk so violently it reduced the concrete below our feet to rubble. I lifted the remains of the sidewalk from under his feet and threw it and him as far away from me as I could manage. I watched his face tremble as he was swept away with the rubble.

Sparks shot like firecrackers behind my eyes. "Lisa." My voice was no louder than a whisper. I turned to search for her though my head was swirling. My brain felt like it was on fire. All of a sudden the world went black and my body hit the cement.

## ~Boothe~

### Chapter Twenty-Three: Bandulu Bizness

####  {Corrupt Venture}

When I left Jane's house, I decided to cool down with a walk. I hadn't gotten far when I heard the scream. I ran as fast as I could but I was too late. I found Jane lifeless on a bed of rubble. Lisa, shaken and badly bruised told me what happened. Rage pulsed through my veins as she described the ambush. By the look of the ripped up asphalt road, dancing electrical wires, and mangled cars, Jane put up a good fight. But that only made me feel worse. I should have been out there with her.

Cradling her in my arms, I carried her home.

"Oh mercy, mercy!" Aunt Dar cried as I stepped through the door. She grabbed Jane's hand and began to shake it. Getting no response, Aunt Dar buried her face in Jane's lap.

I carried Jane upstairs and placed her carefully in her bed. I sat at the edge of the night table staring at her and wishing there was something I could do to bring her back from this coma. In the end, there is nothing that I can do that will ever make up for not being there for her.  I didn't keep my promise.

I knelt down beside her bed and cupped her warm cheek. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I keep failing you and you keep paying for it. I promise I'll make it right."

The door creaked open behind me and I stepped away from the bed.

"You alright, big man?" Mark asked, patting me on my shoulder.

I looked at Jane laid out on her bed, her chest barely elevating as she breathed. I bit down on my tongue so hard that the sweet metallic taste of blood pooled under it.

"We called a doctor," Aunt Dar said as she entered the room. "He'll be here soon." She bent over and kissed Jane lightly on the forehead then sat at her bedside, gripping her hand. But Jane didn't squeeze back.

"I have to go," I said finally. According to Lisa, her condition would only get worse. I had to do something other than watch her suffer.

I took the stairs two by two, with Lisa on my heels.

"Where are you going?" She asked as I grabbed the door handle.

"I'm going to hunt down Aramos and his soldiers and eliminate them one by one."

"Jane needs you here."

"Jane is unconscious," I said louder than I expected. I bit my lip and took a deep breath. "I can do more for her out there than I can in here."

"What if the Neph who did this comes back? What if..."

"The road's ripped up, power lines on both sides of the street have been uprooted, cars flipped over. If the neighbours weren't awake before, they are now. The police will be swarming this place. No Neph is going to risk coming back, not with all the witnesses. I'll be back soon."

"Why do you have to leave?"

"Both of you could have been killed," I said as my heart raced in my chest. "It's time I put an end to this."

Lisa ran out the door after me, shouting something, but I was already pulling out of the driveway. I drove through the night to the first point on my mission—a quiet residential complex in St. Ann. It was a new development filled with rows of uniform houses painted in a pale colour that looked grey in the moonlight. I pulled my car up to the small manicured lawn and stepped out into the humid night.

I knocked hard on the front door. No answer. I stepped back and noticed shadowy movement in the window to my right. I went back to the door and knocked harder until the wood caved under my pounding fist.

"You're going to break down my door" Millicent said as she opened the door. She left only a crack wide enough to expose her face.

"If I wanted to break down your door I would have."

"What are you doing here? It's nine o'clock at night. No. Let's start with how you found out where I lived."

"I'm learning to be resourceful."

She opened the door and leaned forward, glancing up and down the lonely street.

"I want the names of everyone involved in the attacks against Jane. You know who they are. You are going to tell me. Now we can do this out here if you want." I gestured to the open veranda. "Or you could let me in before I wake the neighbours."

She pulled her robe together tightly.

"You're feeling particularly dark and destructive this evening." She looked me up and down carefully before stepping aside and allowing me in. "You should learn to keep that temper in check."

Millicent furnished her home sparsely with a leather sofa and a matching love seat, a side table and a desk. Her dark minimalist furniture stood out against the Hibiscus pink walls.

"A Neph got Jane tonight. He touched her and somehow knocked her unconscious." I picked up a hand-painted porcelain plate. It was one of only two colourfully decorative elements in Millicent's space. "Who was it?"

"There are thousands of Nephs out there. I don't know all of them." She grabbed the plate from my hand and set it back on its stand. "You guys were attacked. How's Mark? I mean, out of all of you he's the most fragile..."

"Not who I came to discuss."

"Why did you come here?" She folded her arms across her lap.

"I told you, I'm here for names."

"Well I don't have any."

"Liar. There's a free-for-all on Jane. Your boy Glenroy is a part of it." I took a seat opposite her. I sat on the edge of my seat with my elbows firmly on my knees. I wanted to look her straight in the eye. "I want to know if the whole Council is working with Aramos or just you and Glenroy."

Her jaw tightened. "I am not a traitor!"

"So it's Glenroy and the Council?"

"To the best of my knowledge, most of the three-member Council board doesn't know that Glenroy and the Council Guard have switched their allegiances. I think the Chairman has some idea but is turning a blind eye."

"I already knew Glenroy was corrupt. I asked the question to find out if I could trust you to give me the truth."

She sighed. "For a long time I couldn't understand why anyone would do Aramos's dirty work. Watching Glenroy, I realized that Aramos seduces people by promising them their hearts desire: money, fame, power, privilege. Whatever you want, he will give it to you. The only thing he asks in return is for the occasional favour. The cost doesn't seem like much, but what they don't realize is that in the end it will cost them everything and they will gain nothing."

Millicent hung her head low as she spoke. "At one time, Glenroy was one of my closest friends. He was loyal, considerate, honest..." She let out a deep sigh. "I watched him fall from being a good Eshkar to being a Corrupt."

"Why doesn't anyone do something about Glenroy before he succeeds in carrying out his agenda to kill Jane?" I asked.

"Because there is no actual proof. I knew the Glenroy before and the Glenroy now, so I knew right away. The Council is not willing to act without any real evidence that's he's Corrupt."

"So what if I get you proof?"

"How?"

"You let me worry about that. I'll just need one thing from you."

"What's that?" She looked up at me. Her eyes were misty.

"Glenroy's address."

She looked at me hard. Her eyes widened. "I think what you're about to do is dangerous and stupid. Glenroy is not going to give himself up. He'll die before he gives you any info on Aramos."

"I need to try. You won't understand..."

"I do. You care about Jane. So watching her go through this while you sit on the sidelines is the hardest thing you've ever done, right?"

I tried to shake the image of Jane lying on the road from my mind. But I couldn't. It was seared there, possibly forever.

She laboured to her feet and walked over to the credenza in the back corner of the room. She handed me a small piece of paper with an address in St. Catherine scribbled on it. "The only reason I am giving you this is because I understand what you are going through. If I could have saved Glenroy, I would have. But for the record, I think that you are going to get yourself killed."

"I stand a better chance of surviving a fight with Glenroy and Aramos than Jane does."

"There is more than one way to help someone," she said with a sombre glance. "Jane may not need you to fight her battles. She may just need you to stand by her."

"Thanks for the address," I said as I approached the front door. "Before I go, have you heard anything about Marcus?"

"No." She knitted her brows. "He's been keeping really low over the last few weeks."

Marcus is not the type to keep low. A quiet Marcus is a dangerous Marcus.

I stepped into my car and revved the engine. On to stop number two.

It was 10:30 p.m. by the time I made it to the St. Catherine community of Portmore. I quickly noticed an eerie trend. Every turn that brought me closer to Glenroy took me further away from civilization. Each turn led to a street that was more vacant and dark than the last. Glenroy's street was the darkest of them all. He lived on a dark dead-end street with three streetlights and only two houses. I drove to the end of the street and parked the car by a large low hanging patch of bushes.

It was hard to imagine a street like this existed in busy Greater Portmore where the houses on some streets were packed together like sardines. Staying in the shadows, I slowly made my way to Glenroy's house.

There was only one other house on the street apart from Glenroy's, and it was completely run down. The wood-shingled veranda awning looked like someone had grabbed the edges and folded it like a piece of paper. The veranda itself had large holes like someones foot had gone through it. The door, well, there was no door, just darkness.

Glenroy's house had one light bulb stationed close to the roof by the front of the house. He lived in a one-floor house with a white and grey exterior and a white-painted iron gate. A string of four foot shrubs lined the stone walkway leading to the veranda.

I scaled the fence at the corner of his property and made my way towards the front door, careful to stay outside of the light. I wanted him to be surprised when he finally saw me.

I perched behind the shrubs that lined the walkway and did a visual sweep of the area. Glenroy is a leader of the Council Guard, the Eshkar Council's elite band of fighters. He would not have left his house open and vulnerable to attack. There must be something that I'm missing. I peered through the bushes, searching for a surveillance camera, motion detector, a watchdog, anything. The house looked unprotected, vacant even. Maybe Millicent gave me the wrong address. In any event, I need a closer look.

I was about to rise when I noticed movement coming from the side of the house. I ducked down and continued to peer through the thickets as two figures came into view.

Glenroy was standing closer to the light. The other man's face was cloaked in darkness.

"We had a deal! Don't double cross me," the man said. A feeling of dread washed over me as I realized the voice was my adopted father's, Henry Boothe

"You haven't kept up with your end of the bargain," Glenroy replied bitterly. "I asked you to do a simple task and you failed."

"You wanted me to kill her. Under no circumstances will I ever do something like that," my father shot back.

"That was always your problem, Henry, you miss the bigger picture. But where you were unwilling others were eager. She's been taken care of. She is no danger to Aramos now. But I still need that information, Henry. Aramos wants to be sure there is no one else in that girl's line that he needs to worry about."

"If I give you that information, you promise to keep my son out of Aramos's hands?"

"We'll see."

"That is not good enough." My father was getting angry. "Since Hasani was seven you've been tormenting me with this. We made a deal. I resigned my position as Chairman and kept my mouth shut about the arrangements you were making with Aramos. You promised you'd take our secret to the grave. Yet at every turn you find a way to dangle my son's past in front of my face to get me to do your work. This is the end. I'll get you the names of those left in the Miller family as long as you promise not to hurt them. After I give you the names you leave us alone for good."

"Aramos has mentioned nothing to me about hurting Jane's family. As far as we know, the rest of them are simple Normals. Normals are like ants to him...no, they're like the crumbs that the ants carry on their backs. He just wants to be sure that there are no more earth benders to worry about. And yes, after you give me the information, I will never contact you again."

My father nodded as he made his way down the pathway. He paused just as he reached the gate and turned back to Glenroy. "What did you do to Jane?"

"Sudden attack of the conscience, Henry?"

"My boy cares for her. She is his friend."

"He has time to say his goodbye."

"Glenroy, she's just a child," my father pleaded. This is the first time I'd seen my father express such tender emotion. It felt odd as I was convinced that he hated her.

My cell phone rang loudly as it vibrated in my pants pocket. I scrambled to cover the speaker in hopes of dulling the noise, but it was too late. They heard it. I pushed the ignore button and I lay perfectly still as their eyes scoured the darkness.

"Someone's here," My father hissed. "I thought you said this place was protected!"

"It is," Glenroy shot back. "No sane person would ever come down here."

"If you burn me, Glenroy, I promise you will regret it." My dad stormed off, slamming the gate behind him.

Glenroy stood for another few moments searching the darkness. He laughed.

"Marcus did say you were predictable. No. Not predictable. Easily goaded," he spoke into the night. "Although, I have to admit, I didn't expect you to show up tonight." He paused as if he was waiting for me to reply.

I thought hard about getting up but decided there was more going on here. I needed to figure it out.

"I'm glad we were able to give you a good show. I'm sure you're shocked, to say the least. If you survive tonight, and I do mean if, you'll soon realize that there is a lot that your father has been keeping from you."

Glenroy mounted his veranda. I watched him through the thickets. He looked straight at the bushes as if he knew where I was.

"Damien," he said loudly, "take care of our guest, will you. Show him how we do things around here."

I let out a sigh as Glenroy stepped into his home and closed the door behind him. I lay in the grass for another few moments as I tried to piece together what I just witnessed. One, the secret that my father has been desperately trying to protect is about me. Two, whatever the secret is, it's big enough to keep my father on the hook with Glenroy. Three, my suspicions about Glenroy were right; he's behind tonight's attack on Jane. Last, and definitely worse, it sounds like Jane's condition is fatal.

I pulled out my phone and noticed that it was Mark who had called. I'd only dialed the first four digits of his number when a large pair of hands reached down and grabbed my shirt. Before I knew it, I was thrown into the air and landing on my back on the other side of the street.

Before I could roll over onto my side, I was picked up again, hoisted high into the air, then thrown hard to the ground. I attempted to catch my breath when the large hand reached for my collar once again.

"Give me a second," I said, knocking his hand away. "Let me get to my feet, and then we can have a real fight."

The large figure grunted as he backed up a few paces. I rolled onto my knees then staggered to my feet. Before I was fully erect the figure lunged forward, again.

"Wait, I'm not ready." I stepped backward. My knees, back, and arms cracked as I stood tall. I finally got a look at my attacker as he stood under the dim streetlight. He was extremely big, standing at least seven feet tall. His had a stocky build with wide set shoulders, broad muscular arms, and a square jaw line covered with a carpet of hair. He was an Ancient, that much I knew for sure.

"Damien," I said aloud.

He grunted. His small shiny eyes narrowed on me. "Time's up."

His first blow landed square in my ribs sending a ripple of sharp pain through the entire left side of my body.

I ploughed my knee into his square jaw in reply. He stumbled but regained his composure quickly. He lunged again. He landed a punch on my jaw followed by a kick to my chest that knocked me against the light post.

I fell to my knees. My cheek, back, and jaw pulsed with pain. Damien was tough. It's going to take more than my fists to take him down. I punched the concrete sidewalk breaking the uniform slab into three sizable pieces. I sent each piece hurling towards the giant. The first piece struck him square between the eyes. He staggered, shook the blow off and continued forward. The second and third pieces he swatted away like they were flies.

I broke larger pieces of concrete and sent then flying towards him, one right after the other. He swatted some away while others hit their mark. Each landed blow seemed to slow his momentum. I flung the last piece of concrete slab directly at Damien's head. It struck him between the eyes for the second time. Finally, only a few steps from me, he came to a stop.

"Stay down," I said as he fell to his knees.

A few moments later, he rolled onto his side. Using a nearby car for support, he attempted to stand to his feet.

"Damien." I leaned against the light post. The giant's beady eyes focused on me. "I don't want to hurt you. I'm here for Glenroy. Don't forfeit your life on his account."

I walked towards the car with my hands outstretched. "I'm done, if you're done."

Damien bared his teeth as he rose tall.

I punched through the passenger side windows and ripped the car doors off their hinges. Holding one door in each hand like a shield I stood squarely in front of him.

My blood felt like coursing lava as my muscles expanded. I clenched my jaw tightly and smiled. "I was hoping you'd ignore the warning." I brought both doors down on him. His body tensed as I made impact then went limp.

Satisfied, I moved on to my real target, Glenroy. I took one step towards his home when I noticed a small spark ignite beside Glenroy's veranda. It took half a second for my mind to register what I was looking at, which left me just enough time to shield my face.

A thunderous explosion ripped through the silent street. The force lifted me off my feet, laying me flat on my back. Waves of blazing debris showered, melting holes in my shirt and singing my bare arms.

Patting the flames off my clothing, I realized that I had been suckered. This wasn't Glenroy's real home. It was a dash-whey house. He used it for all his back door activities. If someone got too close, he'd light it up and throw it away. He probably had a dozen of these houses all over the island.

I sat up, pulling my knees to my chest. I watched the house burn while I settled. Then suddenly it hit me. This cat and mouse game was a ruse to keep me away from Jane. This is what Lisa was trying to tell me, but at the time my mind was too foggy to understand. I've got to get back to Jane.

Then it really hit me. A brick hit me to be exact. I ran my hand over the back of my head and felt the warm life run between my fingers.

I rose and faced Damien with new purpose.  One of us will walk away from this fight.  It will be me.

## ~Boothe~

### Chapter Twenty-Four: Mind Control

It was after midnight when I arrived back at Jane's house. My white shirt, covered with spots of Damien's blood mixed with my own, gave a good synopsis of what had happened in the last hour.

Lisa opened the door before I lifted my swollen fist to knock.

"Did you just get here?" Lisa asked swiftly. "I felt you coming about ten minutes ago. Anyway, come in." She waved her hand towards the living room. As I stepped into the light, her mouth fell open. "You look horrible. Your shoulder! Your arm! What happened?"

"Shoulder dislocated, I think. My arm is fine now." My blood-soaked shirt painted a gruesome picture. I ran my finger over what remained of the gash Damien had made on my forearm with a broken bottle. In less than one hour the gash had closed and only a rough scab remained.

"AGH!" She yelled, stumbling backwards, "Your skin feels like it's on fire. Why are you so hot?"

"Didn't think you noticed me like that, Lisa." I stretched out carefully on the living room sofa.

"It's news to me too," Mark said as he emerged from the kitchen eating something out of a large bowl. "For the record, Lisa, I'm devastated."

Lisa's fair cheeks grew red as she rolled her eyes.

I laughed and a sharp pain shot through the right side of my ribs.

Lisa hurried to my side. "Your two lower ribs on your right side are broken. Boothe, what happened to you tonight? Where did you go?"

I looked into Lisa's innocent eyes. Lisa's image of the world was black or white, fact or fiction, evil or good. After seeing my father with Glenroy, I admired her ignorance. I wasn't sure I wanted to shatter her world with stories of the grey area where good and evil wrestle for power.

"Did you get what you were looking for?" Millicent asked as she descended the steps.

"You're the last person I was expecting to see. What are you doing here?" I clenched my teeth and painfully pulled myself into a sitting position.

"I'm doing my job, Mr. Boothe. I am an Eshkar investigator if you recall. So when I receive a report of a crime against an Eshkar, I have a duty to respond."

"No. You wanted to see if I would make it back here alive."

"That too." Millicent took a seat around the dining room table. "So, how is Glenroy doing? Did you send my regards?"

"Glenroy?" Lisa pushed down on my ribs to apply a bandage. I tightened my jaw to prevent a pained howl from escaping.

"Lisa, please, you don't have to wrap me up. I'll sleep this off. Trust me, by tomorrow morning I'll be good."

"You're going to sleep off two broken ribs, several contusions, a dislocated shoulder, and..."

"Trust me, Lisa, I'll be fine."

Lisa looked me up and down then shook her head. "You are so hard-headed. I'm getting the doctor." She rose and quickly mounted the steps.

"Now that she's gone," Millicent stood up and walked casually to the sofa, "you can tell me exactly what happened at my old friend Glenroy's house."

"I waan hear dis too," Mark said, sitting down next to Millicent.

I told them what happened. Well, I told them most of what happened. I left out the part about my father. That's a puzzle I would have to solve on my own.

"Better you than me. Did you really beat the guy with the car door?" Mark was intrigued.

"Car door, light post, toilet..."

"Toilet?" They said in unison.

"Left in a garbage heap on the corner. I had to hit him with something, he wouldn't stay down." I touched my ribs. The sharpness of the pain had dulled.

Lisa came down the stairs followed by a dark-haired man who bore a strong resemblance to Mark.

"Greetings." The man smiled as he approached. "My name is Dr. Alister Chung. Lisa tells me that you're banged up pretty bad."

"Mark's father. I see the resemblance." They had the same small dark eyes, round face and button nose. He had his long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and wore loose linen pants and a fitted t-shirt.

"Let's see what we can do with this arm." He touched my dislocated shoulder.

"I thought you were a psychologist."

"I am. But before venturing into the complexities of the human mind, I spent twelve years gaining an understanding of the human body. Hold still, this will hurt a bit." With a twist, he popped my shoulder back into place. "Now let's see those ribs."

He lifted up my shirt and touched my ribs. The pain that I had felt when I first came through the door was completely gone.

"Wow. You're a fast healer."

"Like I said to Nurse Lisa, all I need is a good night sleep. In a day or two I'll be 100%."

"Unfortunately, time is not a luxury any of you can afford right now." Dr. Chung sat down.

There was a serious undertone in his expression that troubled me. There was something wrong with Jane. I could feel it. It was something worse than unconsciousness. I flashed back to Glenroy's conversation

She's been taken care of.

She is no danger to us now.

He has time to say his goodbye.

"Everyone take a seat. Mark, can you do the honours of asking Darlene to join us." With a flash, Mark had left the room and returned with Aunt Dar in tow.

"What's wrong with Jane?" I asked him.

"Everyone, please have a seat. As you all know by now, Jane is not well. I have seen this case on only one other occasion, and unfortunately it did not end well." He looked around at our grim faces.

"What do you mean didn't end well?" Aunt Dar began to fidget.

"There is only one treatment I know to be successful against this level of blood poisoning. You must get this treatment to Jane within the next twelve hours or she will die."

Instantly, the air had been sucked out of the room.

We were wide-eyed and loose-jawed like a fish gasping for water.

"The remedy can only be created by a Healer," Dr. Chung continued.

"An Eshkar with an intuitive knowledge of the human body and the remedy required to cure it." Lisa's voice quivered with each word. "I've read that Healers are as rare as Ancients."

"Not if you know where to look," Dr. Chung said calmly.

"In the country," Millicent added. "Historically they tend to live away from civilization."

"They live with and off the land, usually without the modern conveniences of phone, television, or internet. To a Healer, those conveniences interrupt their ability to connect with the earth," he informed the group.

I was on my feet and pacing the floor before he finished his last words. "You talk about the country as if it's the local shop. Half this island is 'country,'" I barked.

"How do we find someone who's off the grid?" Millicent asked.

"You find a Seeker," Dr. Chung responded. "A Seeker can tell you, sometimes down to the square foot, where any Eshkar is at any point in time. She will lead you to the only healer I know, Irianne Benson."

"Where do we find this Seeker?" I asked.

"Let me make a few calls." With that, Dr. Chung headed to the kitchen.

I sat, stood, paced, and then sat again. The thought of Jane dying lit my skin on fire and sent racing thoughts through my mind. I could still find Aramos. I could go back to Glenroy's and make him tell me where Aramos is. I'll make him pay for doing this.

Ignoring the sharp shrills of pain that ran through my body I made my way to the door. Mark beat me to the door where he barred my way with his small frame.

"Move," I said as calmly as I could.

He shook his head.

"You are either for or against me. Which one is it?"

"I'm for you. You're my friend. That's why I can't let you go out there. Every time you leave, Jane winds up hurt and you return looking like you had a fight or you played catch with a Mac truck. You are going to get yourself killed."

"You have three seconds to move or be moved."

He held out, standing defiantly in front of me. I advanced, brushing him aside as I reached the door.

The night had transformed into something black and void. The air was stale. The moon and stars that littered the sky an hour ago were painted over in a thick sheet of darkness. I looked down at my keys, barely illuminated by the streetlight. There were two choices before me, two competing desires—to kill Aramos or to save Jane. One of these would have to take a back seat to the other. The problem was that my heart said Jane, but my mind, churning with thoughts of revenge, said Aramos.

Maybe I could do both, satisfy both my desires. Jane's outlook couldn't be as bad as the doctor's making it out to be. I'd go back for Glenroy and force him to tell me where Aramos was. I'd then find Aramos and be back before sunrise. It wouldn't take any time at all. We'd look for the Healer then. Jane won't die. And even if she does, it was no big deal; I'd always have Nadya...

"Marcus! You must have a death wish coming here." My teeth were clenched. I should have known. "You got me outside, why?"

"I didn't come to fight with you, Boothe." He said in my head. "I came to see how my dear Jane is doing."

"How about you come out where I can see you, so we can have a real conversation, face to fist." I searched the darkness for Marcus.

"My dear friend..."

"We are not friends." I turned right and headed down the sidewalk where Jane was attacked.

"You're right. During our years of friendship I began to consider you more of a brother."

"Come out where I can see you."

Marcus's voice sent waves of angry pulses through my body, instantly swelling my frame. Over the last few months I've thought of at least a hundred ways to make him pay for what he'd done. The thought of him being this close made me smile.

Marcus chuckled slightly. "I have to say, I was worried that Jane had dulled your natural zest for vengeance. Seeing you like this brings a smile to my face. From the first moment I met you, I knew you had this raw power within you. You just needed a bit of moulding."

"Get out of my head."

"The down side to vengeance is predictability. Fueled with the anger of your hurt friend, I knew that you would find someone to pay. Glenroy was the most obvious target."

"Come out you coward!"

"You should be thanking me. Thanks to me the truth has finally being revealed. Or did you think it was a coincidence that your father was there at the exact moment you arrived?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Only the truth. Your father has been working with us since the beginning. He has accepted the futility in resisting us. Now, the only person standing in the way of total domination will die."

I spotted a figure moving in the shadows next to a tree. I approached slowly, careful to keep to the shadows.

"I won't let that happen," I said.

"It will happen. You will see her die right before your eyes. This poison has particular traits. Right now, she is most likely unconscious, am I right? Soon the poison will attack her nervous system, causing her immeasurable pain. She will have violent seizures as the poison begins to shut down her organs. The final stage is a limp silence as her heart slows to a stop."

"Never!" I yelled into the night. "I will never let that happen." I made it to the tree, but there was nothing there but more shadows.

"Instead of you running around trying to save a dead girl, you can come with me. You will learn the truth about everything—how deep your father's alliance runs, the mystery behind the death of your mother."

My heart stopped briefly when he mentioned my mother. This was a sore spot for me and Marcus knew it. "So, it's Jane's death in exchange for my mother's killer?"

"Saviour versus avenger."

I grabbed a hold of the tree branch. My heart raced as my muscles filled with blood. It was my mother or Jane. It was a choice between saving someones life and avenging someones death. I pulled against the branch. It snapped like a toothpick, sending the fruit laden branch to the ground.

"Listen to me, Marcus, I'm not falling for your games anymore. You hear me?" I barked into the darkness. "You are not going to bait me into letting my friend die. But you mark my words, I will find you. I'll find all of you."

For the next few minutes, I listened for Marcus's voice but heard nothing. He was gone. Coward.

I sat on the curb staring up at the starless sky. I picked up a small pebble and crushed it between my forefinger and thumb. For a brief moment I had entertained Marcus's offer. I actually entertained the idea of letting Jane die. It was a fight between saviour and avenger, and the avenger had gained the upper hand.

I sat wondering how long Marcus had been pushing his thoughts on me. Was he talking in my ear the night I left Jane to be poisoned in front of her own home?

I wasn't sure how long I'd been sitting outside, but as I reached for my fifteenth pebble, I heard Mark calling my name as he sped towards me.

"We found out where the healer is."

"Where?"

"A place called Milk River somewhere in Clarendon. What were you doing out here?" He asked, looking down at the dust on my clothes.

"Does anyone know where Milk River is exactly?"

"Lisa's working on that." Mark sat next to me. "Boothe, real talk, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I stood to my feet and dusted off my clothing.

"You say you are fine, but Mrs. Dotty's mango tree is telling a different story." He pointed to the broken branch.

"Either you drop the subject or I drop you."

"You don't have to deal with me so rough." He positioned his arms in an 'X' across his chest.

I forced a smiled. "I'll get Jane, you get Lisa and the directions. We leave for Milk River in ten minutes."

I took one last look into the night before I entered Jane's home.

##  ~Jane~

### Chapter Twenty-Five: Fight for life

I awoke with a start. The air felt like sandpaper as I took my first breaths. Lying on my back, I looked up at the starless night. Where am I?

My body ached as I propped myself into a sitting position. Think. Retrace your steps. How did you wind up standing in the middle of a dark alley? The last thing I remembered was that Nephilim who grabbed my arm. The place where he touched me was still tender. Yes, he grabbed me, and then, then...nothing. I woke up here.

I took a few cautious steps when a tall, dark wall stopped me abruptly. I reached out and ran my finger along my barrier and realized that it wasn't a wall.  It was a tall hedge with tiny dark leaves. I wasn't in an alley; I was in a maze.

Don't panic.  The good thing about mazes is that there's an entrance and an exit. The bad part is finding it.

Approaching footsteps pierced the silence and sent my heart thundering. I burst into a full sprint. Turn after turn led me deeper into the labyrinth until at last I reached another wall. I realized that it was time to face whatever or whoever was coming. Live or die, I had to accept it, there was nowhere else to run. Three feet from me, the footsteps came to a stop. I stepped away from the wall and braced myself for a fight.

"Who's there?" I said, my voice quivering slightly.

There was no reply.

"I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to."

The figure walked slowly into view. I sighed in relief. It was my Gran. "Jane," she said as she touched my shoulder.

I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed. Then it hit me, the fact that my Gran was here meant only one thing, I was asleep.

"This is your final battle," she whispered in my ear. "You have a choice—either you fight and survive or surrender and die." This wasn't just a dream, Gran explained. What happens in this realm has real physical consequences. It determines whether I live and get to see my family and friends, again.  If I loose this fight, she explained, I'll slip into darkness never to awaken.

Gran stood by my side, weaving her fingers through mine.

Another round of footsteps began, this time heavy and hurried.  "Who am I fighting?"

"The Shadow of Death.  Quick, we have to hide." Gran tugged at my arm. "I know a few places."

I looked at my Gran and the sadness that rimmed her dark eyes. A gust of wind picked up carrying the faint hint of the ocean with it. I pulled out my necklace and rubbed the pendant as I listened to the stampede of approaching footsteps.

"No, Gran," I said, pulling her back.

She squeezed my hand as she drew close.

"If this Shadow want my life, he'll have to fight me for it."

A faint smile crossed Gran's lips. "Us.  He'll have to fight us for it," she whispered.

Together we ran through the thick black shadow towards the biggest fight of my life.

## ~Boothe~

### Chapter Twenty-Six: Milk River

The drive to Milk River and the Healer was a long and quiet one. The events of the last few days played in endless rotation. It began with my grandfather, the one I called father. The betrayal I felt when I thought of him was consuming. The more I thought of him helping Glenroy, the more I accepted that I didn't know my father at all. What horrible things was he involved in? What deal did he strike with Glenroy? What did it have to do with me?

After my father, I moved on to Marcus, the person I once called my friend. Deep down I knew I should never have trusted him. I knew what he was about, and in defiance, I decided to ignore it. It angered me to think that all this time it could have been him influencing my actions, luring me out of the way whenever he wanted to get at Jane.

Ultimately, it was my fault. I could have ended this a long time ago if I'd only followed my instincts.

"Stop popping that gum," I said without turning to look at Mark.

"Chewing calms me down." He blew another bubble. "Maybe you should try it."

I looked down at my hands and noticed that I was gripping the wheel so tightly that my knuckles had lost their colour. I gripped the wheel tighter and pressed my foot down on the gas.

"I've been meaning to ask you," Mark said leaning forward, "I know you said you didn't want to talk about it, but my dad says that talking about things makes you feel better."

I let out a deep growl. Mark shrugged his shoulders as he retracted. "Satisfied, Lisa? I tried."

"Where are we on the map?" I asked without looking back.

"We should be reaching Chapelton soon. According to the map, Milk River is not too far from there. You hear that Jane?" Lisa whispered in her ear delicately. "Hold on, we'll get you help soon."

"I hope this Healer thing works out." Mark wedged his head between the door and his headrest and closed his eyes. "The money I put in for gas, I could've used on some good food."

Lisa jabbed Mark hard. He shifted then settled back into his corner.

We drove past a large stone clock tower that marked the centre of a town. A manicured plot with an arch that read "Welcome" surrounded it. The school day had ended and young teens in their blue and white uniforms spilled onto the street. There were glints of grey and red eyes speckled in the sea of Normals. Right now they were still just kids who were unaware of what it truly meant to be an Eshkar or a Nephilim. We've got at least ten years on these kids and I'm not sure we knew quite what it meant either.

Suddenly, Jane began to convulse violently. Her arms and legs thrashed in every direction. Lisa wedged something in her mouth and continued to hold her head firmly. Jane had entered the second stage of the poison. There was less time than I thought. This was the last step before a silent death. I looked in the rear view mirror as Jane's eyes rolled back in her head.

"Please stop shaking, Jane. I know you can hear me. You can beat this, I know you can," Lisa whispered.

I pressed the gas pedal to the floor. Houses passed by in a blur as we entered and exited small towns and at last entered the town of Milk River. There were no clocks, grand stone arches, or historic buildings to let us know we had arrived. There was just a sign, weathered by the rain and bleached by the sun that bore the small town's name.

Lisa held up the map. "We have to turn down here." She pointed to a small wooded path.

"That path is not big enough for a car," Mark's observation was correct. "Look, about two houses down I saw some donkeys tied up against a tree..."

"Are you serious?" Lisa gasped. She folded her arms and examined Mark through her narrowed eyes.

"There is nothing wrong with riding a donkey," Mark replied. "They're noble creatures."

"How do you suggest we get Jane on a donkey?" Lisa said as she folded her arms across her chest.

"I am sure we can find some rope."

I looked back at Jane. Her arms and fingers continued to twitch slightly. That was a good sign. As long as she's moving, she's not dead. I looked down the path. It was definitely too narrow for the car. But as far as I was concerned, there was no other choice. The car leapt forward down the dirt path. Overhanging branches hammered the window. According to Lisa, after a few miles on this path we should see a clearing. The Healer's house was only a short distance away, nestled between the trees.

We were in the homestretch with the clearing plainly in view when were stopped dead in our tracks. Before us, barring our way was a large tree trunk. On the trunk hung a plaque with a warning to all who ventured near:

Walk pass an live. Walk thru and dead!

"I didn't expect that." Mark sat erect in his seat. "Looks like we have to turn back."

"And go where, Mark?" I looked back at him.

"We could approach the site from the other direction..." Lisa traced her finger along the map.

"That will take too long," I said, stepping out of the vehicle.

"Where are you going?" Mark shouted after me.

The forest had a rich, earthy aroma with a hint of decay. As I approached the barrier, I realized that it wasn't just one log but a number of logs piled on top of one another. This had been done recently since the leaves and pimento berries were still green. I picked up one of the trunks and threw it back towards the wooded field. The log twisted through the air before hitting the trunk of a larger tree. I removed the other logs with ease. With the barrier removed, it was time to get back on course.

The sound of snapping twigs stopped me in my tracks. I turned and faced a young Nephilim with long brown hair draping over his shoulders. In his right hand, he held a rusted machete. Two more Nephs soon joined him. One held a large piece of wood. The other twirled a shiny hunting knife.

"You nuh read de sign?" The man with the long hair barked.

I folded my arms across my chest and welcomed the blood as it began to fill my muscles. "We need to pass and your sign was in the way," I answered calmly.

The man turned his machete so that the sharp end of the blade was facing my direction. "Damaging another man's property is a serious offense," He said as his brown eyes transformed to blood red.

"After we pass, you will never see us again. You can put your logs and your little sign back up."

His eyes narrowed to a slit and he smiled wickedly. "After we're finished with you, no one will ever see you again."

I chuckled. "I'm sure you have a lot of ideas on how you think this fight will go down, but I can guarantee you it's not going down like that. Tell your friend with the pocket knife to step away from my car before he loses something he'll miss."

"How did you find us?" I asked.

"Yuh tink yuh alone have friend?"

The three let out a unanimous laugh, as they circled around me. "Marcus said you were arrogant." The long-haired man lifted his machete and charged towards me. He raised his weapon to strike, but before his blade could make contact, I kicked him in the chest and sent his body flying. He landed on a pile of dead branches a few yards away.

"Are you sure the rest of you want to do this?" I looked to my left and right. "Whatever Marcus promised you isn't worth the amount of pain you're going to be in."

The Neph to my right bared his teeth and growled as he lifted the piece of wood. Sharp spikes grew from within the wood until the entire surface was covered in razor sharp points.

"I love it when you Nephs don't listen," I said as he lunged forward. I caught him by his throat squeezing it like I'd imagined squeezing Marcus. I watched as the red faded from his eyes.

"Watch out!" I heard Mark yell from the distance. I turned to see the sharp edge of the knife make a clean slice through the back of my shirt. I grabbed the Neph's wrist and squeezed down on the tendons, forcing him to drop the knife. I held one Neph by the throat and the other by his wrist. I pulled their bodies together, clanging their heads against each another like cymbals. Both fell to the floor dazed. It was time to finish this. I grabbed one by the ankle and spun him through the air, then released him, sending his body soaring through the bushes where he landed with a thundering thump. I reached for the other Neph's ankle.

"Boothe!" Lisa yelled. She was standing by the car. Her eyes roved over the Neph that lay limp by my feet. "Stop! He's no longer a threat."

I was fully aware that there was no chance that any of these three were in any condition to come after us, but I was thinking about revenge. I was thinking of my father, Glenroy, Marcus, Aramos, and every other person involved. I wanted them to hurt like Jane was hurting. I wanted them to physically feel the pain I felt.

I hoisted the Neph's body into the air and he let out a whimper. "Shut it!" I barked as I squeezed his leg.

"This isn't the Hasani Boothe I know," Lisa said as she moved closer. "That person would have remembered why we were here and not get caught up in his own personal agenda."

Lisa was right. Revenge could wait for later. I dropped the Neph and returned to the car. I watched Jane for a few moments as she laid motionless. My worst fear was unfolding before my eyes. The poison had entered its final stage.

We had to find the Healer, fast. Within moments, the badly battered car arrived at a small clearing surrounded on all sides by wild bushes and trees. A single house stood proudly in the midst of the clearing. The house was a square structure no bigger than my bedroom. The once white cement exterior of the house was grey with flecks of brown.

"Any closer to living off the land and she'd be homeless," Mark observed loudly as he looked around.

"Not everyone's father is a forensic psychologist and can afford a big house uptown," Lisa snapped. "Plus, she's a Healer. Even if she could afford it, I doubt she'd want to leave this place. Beyond those bushes is Milk River Bath. It's a very popular mineral bath. It has the highest radioactive levels of all the mineral baths in the world, mainly because of the Healer."

"Radioactive? So I'll go in with two arms and come out with four?" Mark asked

"The water is said to have healing powers," Lisa answered. "It's said that Healers radiate an energy that makes the water, trees, and even animals more fruitful."

At the side of the Healer's home was a cluster of trees. I recognized orange, guava, sweet sop, and breadfruit amongst them. On the other side of the house were rows of vegetables. Standing in the midst of the vegetable garden was a young boy. He glared curiously at us with his bright grey eyes.

Lisa approached and knelt down close to the boy no older than 5 years old. "Hi, my name is Lisa. My friends and I are looking for Irianne Benson."

"That's my mom." His eyes glided over our faces before finally resting on Jane draped across my arms. "Is she sick?"

"Very." Lisa spoke in a tender tone. "We need your mom to help her get better."

"My mom doesn't fix people anymore."

Lisa sighed. "Is it possible for us to speak with her?"

"Mommy! Mommy!" The boy yelled.

A few moments later, a woman emerged from the door wiping her hands in a towel. She looked a lot younger than I expected. Based on her title, I had envisioned an older woman with her hair tied up in a scarf and dressed in a wide-bottom skirt. The woman who was standing before us was a young, modern woman dressed casually in a white t-shirt and jeans.

"Son, get in the house." She had a slight foreign accent I could not pin point.

"Mommy, can I..."

"Get inside now!"

She watched as he obediently disappeared through the front door before turning her attention back to us. "What do you want?"

"My name is Hasani. This is Lisa and Mark. We're Eshkars and..."

"I can see that." She folded her arms across her chest. "I didn't ask who, I asked what."

Lisa stepped forward. "Our friend is very sick. We were told that you could help her."

"Well, whoever told you that was mistaken," she said, turning her back to leave. "I am sorry you wasted your time..."

"Dr. Alister Chung told us," Mark responded sharply. "He said you know each other."

As she turned to face us, a spark of recognition crossed her face.

"You must be Chung's boy, Mark," she said with a faint smile. "You were wetting your diapers when I last saw you. Back then, I was a Healer. That was a long time ago."

"We wouldn't have come all this way to disturb you if this was not a matter of life or death," I said with growing irritation.

"Our friend has been poisoned." Lisa stepped forward. "If she doesn't get help, she'll die."

"I am sorry but I can't help you." She turned and quietly headed back to her door.

"You can't or you won't?" Lisa asked tearfully.

"Does it matter? The conclusion is the same."

"Yes, it does matter," Lisa pleaded. "You were given this power for a purpose. It's your duty to help people, not turn them away!"

Irianne stopped in mid-step. "I resigned from that job a long time ago." She turned to face us once again. "I have a child to think about now. Isn't that one of God's gifts too? Being his parent is my current and only job." Her eyes shifted between Lisa and me. "Unless you think I should be doing both, parent by day, Eshkar by night. Let me ask you something. What happens when the responsibility of being a parent and being an Eshkar conflict? Which one wins and which one loses?" Irianne relaxed her limbs and let out a deep sigh. "You guys are young, I pray that you never have to face the same situations that we who came before you had to face. And I hope that you never have to make such a decision."

Her dark round eyes scanned our faces.

"Our young problems might not be the same as yours, but facing the death of your friend and being shut down by the only person who can save her qualifies as a difficult situation," Lisa spoke frantically. "Jane is an earth mover."

"Telekinetic," Mark injected.

"She is the only earth mover in her family line," Lisa continued. "She has to live long enough to kill Aramos. If she doesn't make it, we all suffer, Eshkar and Normals."

Irianne's eyes rested pensively on Jane's face. "Jane Miller, the little girl from the town of Black River," she whispered. "Passed on to her is the mission of her forefathers, to wage the final war against Aramos, the last of the pureblood Nephilims. This is the girl Christopher spoke of."

Irianne took in and let out a few deep breaths. "I suppose I have no choice," she sighed. "Come in."

Her home was a small single room dwelling with the kitchen, sleeping quarters, and living room occupying each of the corners. Irianne huddled over a large blue barrel, filling her darkened kettle with water. She only looked up once and watched for a few seconds as I rested Jane's body beside her son on the bed.

"How is Christopher these days?" she asked as she continued to fiddle around the kitchen.

"Terrible," I answered.

"He's mad," Mark added. "Bellevue-level crazy!"

Irianne shook her head. "That's unfortunate. He was dedicated to the cause. How's his daughter Tanya?"

"Missing. None have us have seen her in close to a year," Mark informed.

"What?" She rested the kettle on the counter and turned to face us. "What do you mean missing?"

I told her what Coy had said to me when I saw him at his home. All three looked on with shock as I told them how Tanya had been taken.

"Why didn't you tell us this before?" Lisa asked.

"I told Coy that I would get Tanya back. That had nothing to do with the rest of you."

"No man is an island, Boothe," Lisa said softly.

Irianne looked at me pensively before turning back to her kettle. "The Christopher I remember was a great man. He was a part of the underground movement to train and eventually mobilize Eshkar guerrilla forces. The Council was under the cleverly misguided assumption that there was no one to fight and that construction of any guerrilla units would void the treaty they had with the Nephilims and spark another war. Christopher, Alister, a few others, and I knew that the peace between us was superficial. It was only a matter of time before Aramos and his clan would launch their attack."

Irianne took a large jar from the cupboard and began to spoon a dusty compound into a ceramic bowl.

"The Nephilim weren't building weapons out of metal, carrying illegal firearms, or stirring riots amongst the Normals as they had in the past," she continued. "They were establishing themselves in the government as well as buying up land and commercial buildings. Around the world, they were rooting themselves in the lives of Normal, passing laws that would benefit them and facilitate their desire for domination. We knew things were bad when they were converting Normals to join their campaign with promises of power and riches. We tried to warn the Council, but they turned a blind eye. Christopher was one of the few that stuck to his guns when the rest of us gave up the fight. He always held out hope that an earth mover would be born and order would return to our community. We all thought he was crazy when he said he found her. She was only two then, and already under Nephilim fire." Irianne had taken a seat where she quietly circled the rim of her small tea cup with her index finger.

"Coy told us that story," Lisa nodded. "He said when the Neph came to kill her, she fought back."

"The story is Jane levelled the house," Irianne said as she lifted the cup to her mouth.

All this time, I assumed that Irianne was mixing a remedy for Jane. What she was really doing was fixing herself a snack. I rose to my feet. The aged wood floors creaked as I paced the two-foot stretch between the dining room table and the front door.

"Come, Lisa, let's go," I said finally. "She's not going to help."

Lisa hesitated. She kept her eyes fixed on Irianne, who was still fingering her cup.

"She spent the last ten minutes mixing herself a drink while Jane lay there dying!"

"She has to help," Mark said confidently, "she's not going to sit here and watch someone die. I don't care how messed up you are Irianne, you wouldn't be that inhumane."

"Mrs. Benson," she corrected curtly.

Just as Irianne finished her last words, Jane began to convulse. This time her movements were wilder. Lisa tried to wedge a piece of wood in her mouth but caught a right hook from Jane's flailing arm instead. Jane's eyes opened wide. We watched as her eyes brown turn silver before rolling over.

A tree stump that served as Irianne's bedside table teetered back and forth before inching off the floor and hitting the wall above the blue drum. The kitchen table soon followed. It hovered high in the air before shooting towards us. Mark let out a curdling scream. Irianne's son ran and hid behind her legs.

"Do something!" I yelled to Irianne as I grabbed the table in mid-flight.

"Hold her head in place," Irianne said as she approached Jane, still holding her tea cup. Lisa and Mark held Jane's arms. Irianne held the cup she was drinking from to Jane's lips. The thick brown liquid ran down the sides of her face. Suddenly, the shaking stopped and Jane's body went limp once again.

I set the kitchen table down in its place. "What did you give her?" I asked, breathing deeply to steady my pulse.

"The tea that I took ten minutes to make," she replied. "Before you get too excited, it's not a cure. It's for the shaking. I've been observing her since you arrived. I had to be sure what type of poison she received." She returned to the kitchen. "She's received a high dose of poison introduced directly to her blood stream."

"She was grabbed by a Nephilim," Lisa explained.

"Short, deceptively young appearance..."

"Yes!" Lisa said excitedly.

"His name is Jero. He's a very powerful Nephilim who transmits poison through contact with his skin. It's going to take a lot more than some tea to save her."

"Can you do it?" I asked. "Can you heal her?"

Irianne nodded. "Yes, but I need time and silence. I have a friend who lives on the main road. I need someone to bring my son there."

"I'll do it." Mark reached for the boy who was now desperately clutching his mother's leg.

Irianne packed a few of her son's items into a backpack as she gave Mark the exact location of her friend's home. Mark assured her that her son would be taken care of. The boy mounted Mark's back and within seconds their silhouettes disappeared into the thick woods.

I watched as Irianne rubbed a thick black liquid on Jane's arms and legs. "This will help draw the poison out through her pores. Much of the success of this healing depends on her inner strength and desire to live. I hope this girl is a fighter."

## ~Boothe~

### Chapter Twenty-Seven:  My Father

Mark and I decided to give Irianne some space to do her work. Well, the truth is Irianne ordered me out of the room. Apparently, my heavy breathing and pacing was distracting. Mark, being the budding psychotherapist that he was decided to keep me company.

Standing amongst the fruit trees, Mark continued his intrusive questions. What's going on? What's on your mind? Let's talk. Blah, blah, blah. I ignored him until he asked about my father. I couldn't help the grimace that crossed my face.

"Did he do something? You mentioned that he wasn't a fan of you hanging out with Jane. Is he still giving you a hard time about it?"

"Drop it, Mark."

"It's your father," he said with satisfaction. "He got on your case about last night, didn't he? You guys had a fight..."

"Mark, that's not what happened."

The throbbing sound in my ear became more intense as Mark continued to press for an answer.

Finally, I snapped. "He betrayed me." Each word sizzled like acid on bare skin. "He's working with Glenroy."

"What! Are you sure?"

"Heard it straight from the horse's mouth." I picked up a rock and crushed them in my palm.

"What did he say?"

I turned to face him. His small dark eyes glared at me. Mark was right about one thing; it felt good to get some of this off my chest. But how much information is too much information? Do I tell him about my blacked out birth certificate? Do I tell him that the man who raised me is involved in what's going on with Jane?

Thankfully, I didn't have to resolve this dilemma, at least not right now. Here comes Lisa to save the day.

There was a desperate and tense aura about Lisa as she charged forward. When she arrived at our position, she was winded and flushed. She bent over taking several gulps of air before staring at us with wide, frightened eyes.

"They're coming!"

"Calm down, Lisa." I gripped her shoulders. "Who's coming?"

"Fifteen, coming this way. They're coming for Jane." Her voice trembled.

"And whoever else stands in their way," Mark added.

Lisa estimated that we had between fifteen and twenty minutes before they reached the compound. Of the fifteen people, she could tell that ten were Nephilim, three where Normals (no doubt Corrupts), and two were Ancients.

"What's the plan?" Mark paced back and forth, tugging at the scanty hairs on his slender chin.

"Well, we know what they're here for. I can keep them busy.  Hopefully, it will to give Irianne more time to heal Jane."  I said.

"You are not doing this alone," Lisa reminded. "We're in this together."  She elbowed Mark.

Mark rolled his eyes. "The drama never ends," he grunted. "I'll help too."

I looked at the newly formed soot-coloured clouds that hung over the surrounding woods. "Are you sure you two are up for this? Confrontations can take a bad turn very quickly."

"We're with you. Hundred percent," Lisa said reassuringly.

Together we headed for the forest.  The forest was dense, except for a small clearing.  The dark sky coupled with the forests thick branches made it look like dusk.  We approached carefully.  One by one, the Nephilim soldiers emerged from between the trees.

The clouds cast a hazy hue over the forest, shading the group that stood before us. Normals, Nephs, and Ancients stood together in army formation. Like obedient foot soldiers, they stood in rows as they swayed on the balls of their feet. The two Ancients stood at either end. The burly Ancient on the right was Damien. His face bore a long scar that extended from his jaw to his cheekbone, a little token and warning from our last fight.

I stepped forward and scanned the group for the familiar freckled face of Marcus. "Marcus isn't here," I whispered.

"Maybe it's not him," Lisa whispered back. "Maybe he's not behind this."

I reflected on our conversation the night that Jane was attacked, I knew it couldn't be anyone else.

"He's hiding like a coward. He won't fight if he can have someone fight for him," I replied.

"I did not come for a fight." A raspy voice spoke from the right side of the formation. I located the speaker quickly. He was a husky man with a thick build. His unkempt beard started from just under his crimson eyes.

"What's your name, big man?" I asked, looking straight into his wide red eyes.

"There must be a way to handle this civilly," another voice said, this time from the left. Our heads moved swiftly to a Nephilim woman with a head full of fiery red hair.  She wore a thick coat that was out of place in the tropical climate.

"Just give me what I want then everyone can go home and relax," another voice said. "Your lives can go back to normal, like Jane never existed."

"I want to speak to the person in charge," I said, looking to Damien. "I want to speak with Marcus."

"If you don't want to give me what I want, then step out of the way so that I can get it myself," a  tender voice called from back of the formation.

"This is really creepy!" Mark whispered.

"It's like they are all speaking for someone. Like they're being used as a mouthpiece," Lisa added.

Marcus.

"Trust me, it's to your benefit to cooperate," a different voice spoke. "You can't beat all of us. We will destroy you and your friends, then take Jane anyway."

"This is bad," Mark shook his head slowly. "This is really bad."

"Boothe, think about this logically, are you all willing to forfeit your lives, three lives, for one girl? Doesn't that seem like a hefty price?" another voice asked.

"You're right. Three lives for one is a hefty price. How about you step out of the shadows so I can talk to you face to face, maybe strike a deal."

"You must think I'm stupid!" one said to the rear followed by a few hisses and grunts from the crowd.

Damien growled loudly.

"You didn't learn the first time?" I drew my finger down my face replicating his scar. "Anytime you are ready, Damien. Anytime."

"To be honest, I'm insulted," a voice said from the rear. Instantly, the familiar voice captured my attention. "We've spent so much time together, yet you show me no respect."

"I recognize the voice, but it can't be...it's impossible." The fragrance that soured in my nostrils was one I had smelled on many occasions. "You're a lot of things but I didn't take you for stupid."

"Boothe, who is it?" Mark asked.

The row of militant followers parted like the Red Sea, giving her clear passage to the head of the formation.

"Nadya?" Lisa and Mark gasped in unison.

"I knew all along you were evil," Mark continued. "One person can't be that sour all the time."

"Oh, sweetheart," she stepped towards me. "You really didn't know. I think your relationship with that soon-to-be-dead girl has warped your senses." She ran her hand over my shoulder and down my arm, fully dilated with blood.

I dragged my arm away. "Don't.  How? Why?"

"Let me help you." She looked Lisa up and down through the corner of her eye. "I stumbled into your underworld by accident a long time before I met you. I was instantly in love."

"You've got everything. I can't see what they offered you that you didn't already have." Lisa asked.

She looked into my eyes and smiled wickedly. "They gave me power.  Being a part of this group means that I am in control of anything and anyone."

"It's a false sense of control. In the end, you are not the one in the driver's seat. They are using you, Nadya. They've taken advantage of your weakness!" Lisa reasoned.

"I am not weak!" she hissed in return.

"You really think they are going to allow a Normal rise to the top of the ranks?" I asked, pushing Nadya away. "Normals are pawns to them. They corrupt you, use you, and then throw you away. That's how it works."

"No one controls me!" Her nostrils flared as she shouted. She took a few deep breaths and forced a small grin. "This is getting boring. Where is Jane?"

At the sound of Jane's name the crowd perked and began to shift as if they were eager to launch into the attack.

"Nadya, you know this is wrong."  Lisa said stepping forward. "They are going to hurt her. Underneath that hard façade there has to be some compassion."

Nadya swallowed hard, then looked up at the dark sky. "Looks like it's going to rain. I spent a lot of time on my hair and make up.  Let's hurry this up." She looked over her shoulder to the group of hungry soldiers that stood behind her. "Damien, get rid of them."

He looked at her briefly, but surprisingly he didn't move.

"That's an order, Damien!" she shouted.

Damien held his position. The hair on his face stood on end. No doubt he wanted to rip me in two for what I did to his face. So, why was he holding back?

Nadya continued to shout commands. There were a few growls from the crowd and what sounded like muffled laughter, but no movement.

"Nadya, you suck at this control stuff," Mark snickered. "Maybe you should try something else. You could be the Nephs' receptionist, take their calls and bring them coffee. That'll get you real close to the head guy. Maybe then they'll promote you to wiping his..."

"Shut up, Mark!" she screamed. "You will listen to me you overgrown piece of..."

"Calm down, gorgeous," Marcus called from the back of the formation. "Don't chip your nails."

He walked through the crowd slowly while adjusting his cuffs on his denim jacket.

"Finally decided to come out from whatever bush you were hiding in," I said as he stood before me.

"Why Boothe, did you miss me?" He donned a twisted smile.

"Something like that"

Marcus let out a hearty laugh. "When we came up with this plan, none of us counted on you becoming so attached to the girl."

I had waited for the moment when Marcus and I would come face to face so that I could make him pay for everything he did to Jane. Right now was not the time. I had to control myself, buy Irianne more time to heal Jane.

"What plan?" I clenched my fists tightly.

"Don't play dumb, Boothe. You know exactly what plan I'm talking about."

"The plan to get Jane."

"Good. Now that we are past playing dumb, we can move on to more advanced and interesting topics." Marcus and Nadya looked to each other and smiled wickedly. "Mark. Lisa. I am sad to report that you've been suckered, 'hoodwinked,' I think they call it," he said with a short laugh.

"What are you talking about?" Lisa looked to Mark and then to me.

"How do I explain this?" Marcus glanced up at the dark sky. "Boothe has been helping us this whole time."

"Help you? Never! Don't believe anything this dirty Neph has to say," I spat.  I was hard to not lunge at Marcus.  I wanted to pummel him.

"Normally, I would agree with him; trusting me is always a big mistake. Boothe can attest to that. But this time, you'd be proud to know that I am telling the truth," Marcus boasted.

"I would never work with you!" I barked.

"Not intentionally," Marcus agreed wickedly. "Let me ask you this, do you think it was an accident that Jane was accepted in Kingston Academy? Do you think it was an accident that you, of all the people available were the one chosen to protect her?

"What are you trying to say, Marcus?"

"What I am saying is that you were the perfect person to pull this off. You two have so much in common. We knew that you would be the one to get her to lower her guard. Once her defenses were down, we would step in. Things didn't always go according to plan, but..."

"Coy asked me to protect her. That had nothing to do with you," I grunted.

"Oh, but it had everything to do with me. Dr. Christopher Coy answers to me. I told him to get Jane into the school. He was acting under my orders when he insisted that you protect her."

"You kidnapped Tanya to get to Coy," I said with new clarity.

"Love is a very powerful weapon," Marcus replied. He looked up at me from the corner of his eye. "Isn't that right, Boothe?"

"I knew that out of all of us, you would be the one to crack her, to keep her confused and off-focus. We had hoped that with her out of focused she would be easier to pick off. She proved more challenging that we expected. So I asked this lovely lady," he gestured to Nadya, "to arrange for Jane to be visited by a special friend."

"You didn't need Nadya to hire Jero," I said.

"True." Marcus nodded slightly.  "I could have easily done it myself.  But I wanted my princess Nadya to get her hands dirty.  Nothing beats hands-on-training father always says."

"Nadya hired that Neph to poison Jane?" Lisa widened her eyes in shock. "I am going to enjoy taking you down!"

"Whatever. When you're ready I'll show you how it's done," Nadya shot back.

"That brings us here. Wow, I feel so much better getting that off my chest.  There's really something to this honest thing. I can see why you Eshkars are so into it." Marcus sighed. "Boothe, I've wanted to burst your bubble for a long time."

"You're going to regret this, all of it." I said stepping forward. Blood pulsed through my body like a well-fed flame.  It was getting hard to hear above the sound of the raging blood.

"Before you attempt to ripe me to pieces, there's more. I told you last night that I would tell you what happened to your biological parents. Since you've brought Jane, I'll keep to my word. It's a long story, so I will give you the abridged version. Your adopted father, Henry Boothe, was involved in the cover up of a very dark little secret. As you have heard, the secret is about you."

"I'm going to have arthritis by the time you get to the point," Mark interrupted.

Marcus shot Mark an annoyed glance.

Marcus took a deep breath and continued. "Your mother was an Eshkar, but your father was not. I'll give you one guess. Hint, he was not a Normal."

"Boothe's real father is a Neph?" Mark asked with an awkward chuckle. "That would make Boothe a Neph too. We know that's not true, right Lisa?"

"Right," Lisa said confidently.

"He's not a Nephilim," Marcus added. "He's something else entirely. He's just enough of an Eshkar to not set off Lisa's alarm, and just enough of a Nephilim to make him fun."

"This is low, even for you, Marcus," I shot back.

"I can see that you're having difficulty believing me. Would it help if I told you about your parents? I'll assume from your violent expression that the answer is no. But because I am having such a good time airing your dirt, I'll tell you anyway. Hasani Boothe, your biological father's name is..." Marcus stared at me intently as he performed a drum roll with his fingers. "Aramos." He stretched out each syllable.

"Lie!" I shouted between my clenched teeth. I felt my blood begin to boil. There is no way my mother would ever get involved with a dirty Neph, not to mention Aramos, the pureblood leader of the Neph clan. Never.

"Oh, don't worry, Aramos is my father, too. That makes us brothers." His smile widened with each word. He was enjoying this.

"Our father had a temporary lapse in judgment when he met your mother," Marcus said scornfully. "That lapse cost your mother her life. Aren't we lucky she was able to save you?"

The blood thundering through my veins was so loud it was nearly deafening. Marcus will regret speaking about my mother this way.

"Your grandfather knew," Marcus continued "He made sure all the fun details on your birth certificate, like your father's name, and the hospital you were born in, were deleted from public record. He even gave up his position as Council Chairman to keep it a secret."

Marcus is a bold faced liar. He'll say anything and do anything to get what he wants. Yes, my adopted father was keeping a secret, but this couldn't be it.

"This is your chance to stand with your real family. With us is where you belong." Marcus said with an outstretched arm. "You really think that they are going to accept you now? You're the son of Aramos, the last known pureblood. When the truth gets back to the Council, they will not stop until they find and kill you. Your so-called friends will turn on you, because at the end of the day, you are not one of them. You are one of us. Come, live out your real destiny."

I wanted to look back at Mark and Lisa, but I couldn't. If I turned and saw condemnation and fear in their eyes...

"I will never stand with you," I said angrily.

"Then you'll die along with your Eshkar friends," he scowled. "Damien!"

"Yes, boss," he replied in a bellowing voice. Damien stomped towards me. His eyes were focused on my much smaller frame.

"Do as the lady told you!" Marcus commanded.

Each step the giant took shook the ground beneath me. "Damien, your memory can't be that short," I said as I roamed the field for a defensive tool. I spotted a cluster of rocks a short distance away.

"Damien, finish him quickly, we have a trophy to collect," Marcus said in a tiresome tone.

With that order, Damien swung his double-sized firsts at my torso. I leapt backwards. His fist narrowly missed my rib cage. I fell onto a patch of gravel-sized stones. I felt around for one large enough to make a dent in his skull but found none.

I kept my eyes on the approaching giant. His eyes blazed with anticipated revenge. Within moments, he was hovering over me bringing down both fists like a mortar crushing spices.

"This is for my face!" Damien bellowed.

His cannon sized hands came down before I could roll out of the way. The blow sent a ripple of pain through my chest. I cradled my throbbing ribs and rolled over onto my side. I could see Lisa's and Mark's expression clearly from where I laid. They were afraid, but who were they afraid of—Marcus, Damien, or me?

I mustered all the energy I had in my aching limbs, staggered onto my knees, and then rose slowly to my feet. Before I was fully erect I felt another heavy blow to my chest. I flew through the air like a piece of paper picked up by the wind. I crashed into a tree and fell through the branches to the ground.

I lay there for a few moments, looking up at the overcast sky. I ran my hands over my ribs. The pain had dulled. I rubbed my back as I looked around at the thick branches that broke my fall.

I could hear Damien's footsteps approaching.

"Boothe, please get up," Lisa pleaded tearfully. "We don't believe anything Marcus said."

"Don't go out like this," Mark added.

"Get up!" I commanded my limbs. Remember, you're doing this for Jane. I can't allow Marcus to sidetrack me with his head games. Not this time. I wrapped my arms around the tree trunk that broke my flight. With one pull, I uprooted the tree.

I swung the trunk like a cricket bat and knocked Damien squarely in the chest. The ground shook when his back collided with the forest floor. I reached for two large stones and ran towards Damien who was now staggering to his feet. I ran my fingers over the smooth surface of the stones in each hand and knew what I had to do. As Damien rose to his feet and lunged forward, I jumped onto his chest and brought the stones down against his temples. He fell instantly.

"Damien, you better get up, now!" Marcus yelled angrily.

I stood over Damien for a moment with the stones still in my hand. I waited for him to move, but he was out.

There were howls, grunts, and shouts of anger from the ranks. Their eyes were blazing red. Their faces twisted into scowls as they stood impatiently waiting for the command to avenge their fallen comrade.

"You are not going to win. I'll fight you to the end and die before I let you hurt anyone!" I yelled as I made my way back to Lisa and Mark.

"Die for who? Jane! When are you going to get it? She is our enemy. You could save their lives a dozen times and you will still be nothing to them but a dirty Neph," Marcus spat. "But if that's the way you like it, so be it. Soldiers!" He called loudly. A loud uproar of snarls came from the group that stood behind him. "Leave none alive!"

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. I braced myself defensively for the attack, shielding Lisa. Mark attacked offensively; sweeping through the crowd like a blur, he knocked several of them to their feet.

I picked up the tree trunk and swung at the three racing towards me. The trunk hit the chest of two, sending them sailing through the air. They landed several feet away amongst a patch of thick bushes. The hairy, dog-looking Ancient had ducked beneath the tree trunk. He bobbed and weaved his way towards me. He remained close to the ground, at times running on all fours. He lunged towards me like a wolf attacking his prey. His sharp teeth locked onto my arm. His shook his head violently like a pit-bull tearing away at its prey.

I used my legs, propping them against the creature's breastplate and pushed. He fell, but quickly lunged towards me once more. This time he came at my face. I grabbed his jaw and his sharp teeth snapped wildly at my face. With one hand on top and the other at the bottom, I pulled with all my force unhinging his lower jaw from the rest of his face. He fell to the floor and slowly morphed back to full human form.

"Soldiers, pull back!" Marcus shouted suddenly. The crowd responded instantly, disappearing into the shadows.

"It's been nice playing with you. We have what we came for. It's time to go."

"What is he talking about?" Lisa whispered.

Then it hit me. He was the one keeping us busy.

"Like I said, your weakness is your predictability. I knew you would come out here searching for a worthless cure," Marcus said confidently. "I took advantage of your poor foresight and sent another pawn around the back route."

## ~Jane~

### Chapter Twenty-Eight: Freedom

My head felt like I'd been hit by a hammer and every joint in my body, from my neck to my ankles, felt like they'd been pulled out. Thick leather belts were wrapped around my wrist and secured to the bed. The metal from the buckle clanged against the bed as I struggled against the restraints.

I heard a voice in the distance. I pulled frantically at the belt, hoping desperately that by the sheer power of my will they would fall off. The front door opened and in entered a woman dressed casually in blue jeans and a t-shirt. On her hips, she carried a basket with what looked like grass and twigs.

"Oh, by God's grace, you're awake," she wore a sincere smile. "I was beginning to think...oh, never mind what I was thinking. Your friends are going to be happy."

She reached out to cup my face, but I turned my head swiftly to avoid her touch. The last person that touched me knocked me out.

"No need for that young lady," she said in an irritated tone. "My name is Irianne Benson. You were brought to me for healing. You should be thanking me. If it wasn't for my help, you would be dead."

"What's with the belts?" I asked, looking at my wrists.

"Sorry about that. You were shaking. It was the only way I could get you to stay still." She loosened the belts on my feet and hands.

"Thank you," I said, rubbing my tender joints.

"Here, drink this."

"What is it?" I asked as I reached for the cup she handed me.

"Why?" She placed her hands on her hips. "You think I would heal you just to poison you? It's herbs. Drink it!"

I was alive. Maybe I did have her to thank for it and maybe I didn't. I watched her as she watched me.

"Let me guess, you've got trust issues?" She rolled her grey eyes and turned to the table where she started unpacking her basket. "Are you naturally distrustful or did someone break you?"

"Both," I replied.

She looked at me tenderly for a few moments. "That's a shame. Trust is the delicate thread that connects all people. Our survival as humans is intertwined with our ability to trust another to preserve and enhance our lives. When trust is broken, when we are not our brother's and sister's keeper, we all suffer. Your friends brought you here trusting that I could heal you. I would not betray that trust." She removed the last bundle of twigs from her basket. "Please drink."

I cautiously cupped the small, chipped teacup and stared into the thick brown brew before raising it to my lips. The drink had a strong earthly flavour with a bitter undertone that prompted my gag reflex.

She took the cup from my hand and walked over to the sink.

"Where are my friends?" I asked.

"Well," She folded her arms across her chest. "They went to handle a little trouble that they brought this way."

My heart fell. "What kind of trouble?"

"Shortly after you got here, a group of Nephs, Corrupts, and Ancients showed up in the woods near my house. Your friends went to..."

"I've got to help them." I slid off the bed.

"Wait! You're not..."

My feet touched the floor then crumbled under my body.

"What's wrong with my legs?" I asked nervously.

"As I was saying," she slid her arm under my back, "you're not yet strong enough. The poison spread throughout your entire body, so the remedy I gave you needs time to work its way through. Don't worry about your friends." She placed me back onto the bed. "They seem like smart kids, if they were in trouble I'm sure they'd be heading right back here."

Just as Irianne finished her sentence there was a loud knock at the door. "See? Here are your friends now."

I sat anxiously waiting for the door to open and for the faces of Boothe, Lisa, and Mark to appear. I will never be able to forgive myself if any of them were hurt.

A mist of tears clouded my eyes making the figure that entered the room blurry. The figure reached forward and wiped the tears away. I was filled with instant relief to see Dr. Coy standing before me.

"I'm so happy that you're okay," I said, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

"I came to get you out of here." He spoke in his usual calm tone. Dr. Coy looked like he was back to his usual self, before the emotional breakdown. His dreads were neatly wrapped and clothes were freshly pressed. His eyes had regained some of their brightness. Despite his turn for the better, there was still something off. There was a nervous twitch around his mouth when he spoke. Then there was the troubled look on Irianne's face as he spoke.

"Where's everyone else?" I asked.

"They're still holding off the troops. I have to get you out of here. They might not hold much longer." He lifted me off the table cradling me in his arms.

"You came from the woods?" Irianne asked as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Yes, it's not looking very good for us out there." He headed for the door, with me firmly in his grasp

Irianne stepped in front of him, barring his exit. "You know, I was devastated to hear you weren't doing well, heath wise. You seem better now."

"Yes, I'm much better now. We have to go. Irianne, you've been a big help. Thank you." Dr. Coy said, attempting to sidestep her.

"Are you nervous about something, Dr. Coy?" I asked directly.

He looked at me oddly for a moment before answering. "Yes, I am." He swallowed. "I'm nervous about getting you out of here safely, which I can't do if you two keep slowing me down with these irrelevant questions. Now get out of the way so I can go about my business."

"I'd like you to put me down. I think my legs are fine now." I said.

He gripped me tighter as his chest heaved in frustration.

"How could you betray us?" Irianne said, breaking the silence. "You were the only Normal in history to lead a team of Eshkars.  You are one of us."

"I wouldn't..."

"Don't lie to me," Irianne barked. "I know you, Christopher, and this is not you."

"What? I knew something was off, but I didn't think you were corrupt." I was shocked.

Dr. Coy stood in silence as his dark eyes danced between us. Then suddenly, his eyes softened.

"They have Tanya." His voice shook slightly as he spoke. "If I don't do this I'll never see her again. Aramos promised that he won't hurt you."

"You know that that's a lie," I said, still struggling "He will kill me."

Dr. Coy swallowed hard. "I'm sorry Jane.  We have to go." He advanced toward the door.

"Let me go! I don't want to hurt you, Dr. Coy!" I attempted in vain to break free. I hadn't yet recovered my strength and my joints felt as stiff as a rusted hinge.

"One of the after-effects of the poison is that it dulls your gifts. As Irianne can explain, it will take a few days before you regain use of your powers. So hurting me is not a possibility," he informed me matter-of-factly.

I looked to Irianne who nodded reluctantly.

"There is no use trying to fight this. They will win. They always do." He said somberly.

"Evil wins when good people don't stand up for what is right. You are a good person. This is not right. We will find a way to get your daughter back," I pleaded. "But it's not like this."

I continued to struggle.  Finally, his gripped faltered and I fell to the floor.

"There's no other way." He grabbed both wrists, hoisted me into the air and threw me over his shoulder.

"No!" I screamed as I struggled against his tight grip. He wrestled to maintain his hold, knocking over a lit Kerosene oil lamp that sat by the front door. The lamp rolled, spilling its oil along the wooden floor. It finally stopped under the curtains, which quickly caught on fire.

"Let her go!" Irianne yelled, pounding her fists against Dr. Coy's body.

He dragged me out of Irianne's home, which was now on fire, into a dark evening. I kicked and threw my hands wildly against his torso. Irianne continued to deliver futile blows. With one hand, he tossed Irianne to the ground. She cried out in pain, grabbing her ankle. He quickened his pace towards the dense trees as I continued to kick and pound at his body.

"It's over, Jane," he said. "Accept it."

Then, suddenly, a figure appeared behind him, fading in and out like a shadow. I scanned the area. The only person I could see was Irianne who was limping towards me. There it was again, this time only two feet from us, a hazy figure that cut in and out like the picture on a scrambled TV channel. Within moments, the figure was behind us, lifting an object I couldn't make out, high into the air. My heart pounded with terror. The figure's arms swung through the air. I instinctively covered my face and braced for impact. Dr. Coy and I fell to the floor.

When I opened my eyes, Dr. Coy was lying motionless to my left. I looked up from my position on the ground to see a man, dressed from head to toe in army fatigue and holding a dented shovel.

"You okay, Jane?" He stretched out his hand.

"Fine," I answered, standing to my feet. I brushed the twigs and loose leaves my clothing and stared cautiously at my rescuer.

He pulled down the camouflage bandana to reveal his face.

"My name is Dr. Alister Chung," he said.

"Mark's father," I exhaled with relief as I excitedly threw my arms around him. "Thank you."  I pulled away. "Where is Mark, Lisa and Boothe?"

Dr. Chung looked at me as a father would a troubled child. "It comes to an end today, Jane. Millicent and the Council army are advancing on Marcus and his soldiers. They're going to take care of Marcus and anyone else involved. You can finally relax. No more running. No more hiding. This all ends right here."

I smiled.

"Let's get your friends and go home," Dr. Chung said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. We walked back towards Irianne's house, now totally engulfed in flames.

## ~Boothe~

### Chapter Twenty-Nine: One of us

"You're one of us." These four words looped through my mind continuously over the last twenty-four hours. I dissected my memories and analyzed each moment for evidence of any natural inclination towards mischief. I saw my life through a different lens. The more I looked, the more disgusted I felt.

Is this why Marcus and I got along so easily, because we were brothers?

Is this why my biological father's name was blacked out on my birth certificate, because my father was the enemy of all Normals and Eshkars, an evil half-angel?

If Aramos was my father, it would make me the abomination forbidden by the Eshkar Council. My existence would be a crime. The Council will hunt me. And if they find me, I'm dead.

My cell phone vibrated against my leg, interrupting another loop of Marcus's condemnation. A picture of Jane's face flashed on the screen. It was her third time calling and my third time staring at the screen until the phone stopped ringing and her image disappeared.

They say that nothing done in secret ever stays a secret. Ignoring Jane and my friends was ignoring the inevitable. She would find out whether I told her or she heard it from someone else. She should hear it from me.

I took a deep breath and dialed the first four digits of her number. Her name and face came up on the screen. Call Jane it flashed under her smile. Hi, Jane. I'm happy you're alive. Hey, listen, you know that guy who's been terrorizing your family? You know the one you're destined to kill? Yeah, well he's my father. Even better, Marcus is my brother.

I pressed cancel and threw my phone into the corner of the room. It hit the wall and fractured on impact. Pieces of the plastic frame and hardware shot out across the room. Just then, I heard movement from downstairs.

"Dad! Dad!" I shouted as I jumped to my feet and stormed into the dark hallway.

At three in the morning, the house was dark and eerily quiet. The floor creaked beneath my feet as I barrelled down the stairs towards his study. "Dad!" I yelled fiercely into the darkness.

"Son, what's going on?" He appeared at the study door. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, a sign that I had awoken him from a deep sleep. Had this been two weeks ago, I would have apologized and felt guilty for disturbing him at this ungodly hour. But right now I didn't care. Nothing was more important than the truth.

"Is everything alright?" He adjusted his blue robe.

"You've kept the truth from me for too long!" I said angrily as I paced the foyer.

He stood in silence as his eyes wandered over my face.

"Tell me the truth about my parents. Who were they?" I demanded.

"You stomp around my house demanding information. You raise your voice and slam doors like you the pay bills!" He replied sharply.

"Enough!" I barked. "Stop changing the subject. Dad, I need you to answer the question. Everything I am, everything I ever thought I was depends on your answer."

In the place of the answers I pleaded for, there was silence. My father stood casually at the door to his study with his hands in the pockets of his silk robe.

"Since you're not going to say anything, I'll tell you what I know. I know that you never talk about my birth parents."

His eyes narrowed.

"Whenever the topic comes up you either change the subject or leave the room," I continued. "How does a parent not talk about their only child? Your daughter, my mother, was killed and you never talk about it," I shouted as my hand began to tremble. I quickly shoved them in my pocket.

My father stood quietly with his lips clenched tightly together. His nostrils flared as he took deep breaths. His grey eyes looked like dark pools in the dim light cast through the foyer.

"I heard something," I continued, "something that for the last day, I've prayed was a lie."

"Why all of a sudden are you asking all these questions about the past? The past is dead, just like your mother. You are my son. I raised you. I am the only father you need to know!" he said desperately. "I told you to leave that Jane girl alone! I told you that she would bring nothing but trouble for you."

"This is not sudden. Less than a month ago, I stood in your study and asked about my birth certificate. Like always, you changed the subject."

"Look at what this girl has done to you..."

"It's not Jane, it's you," I barked. "The only reason you wanted me away from Jane is because of your deal with Glenroy."

His face fell.

"I saw the two of you by Glenroy's house. I heard what you said about Jane."

"You don't understand. I was protecting you..."

"From the secret."

"Yes. It was for the best." He took a step towards me. "I didn't want you to have a future based on something you could not control. You were innocent and I wanted you to stay that way."

"What Marcus said is true then" I hung my head low, "Aramos is my biological father."

"Son, please..."

"Even now, when the truth is out, you won't admit it!" I watched him struggle for words. "I want you to say it out loud."

"Admit what? Admit that my beautiful daughter decided to marry a Nephilim?" He said in disgust. "She was obsessed with him. I begged her to stay away from him. Behind my back, she ran off and secretly married him. I was furious when I found out what happened to my little princess. The only good thing to come out of that ridiculous union was you, my son. You were months old when they left you on my doorstep. I looked into your grey eyes and I made a decision that I would not let your mother's mistakes ruin your life."

Collapsing on a stair, he sunk his face into his hands. "I did everything I could to keep you out of this life." He was tugging at his robe.

I wanted to be angry with him, but I couldn't. The man that sat before me with his face buried in his hands was not the malicious, conniving man who withheld vital information. He was a desperate father scared of losing another child. I felt sorry for him.

I sat beside him on the step. "Tell me the truth."

"I tried everything," he mumbled softly.

"I want to know everything," I insisted. "My mother, the secret deal with Glenroy, everything."

He sighed. "Your mother, my daughter's name was Josephine Adina Rhone. Rhone was our family name before I had it changed it to Boothe. I don't know how your parents met. It seemed like their relationship happened overnight. One day she brought him home and said his name was Richard. He tried very hard to hide who he was but it was undeniable. One look and I knew he was a Nephilim."

"Did you know it was Aramos?" I asked.

He shook his head. "We believed his name was Richard. When she told me they wanted to get married, I blew up. She was young and naive. A marriage between an Eshkar and a Nephilim has never happened throughout the history of our kind. Not only are we naturally repelled by each other, it's also legally forbidden, by both sides. The punishment for this crime was death.

"None of that mattered to her. She married him anyway. It didn't take long for the Eshkar Council and the elders of the Nephilim clan to find out about their relationship. She was arrested.

"I pleaded with the Eshkar Council to spare her life. I told them that I could get through to her. I would make her give him up. Because of my rank in the Council, they agreed to give me an opportunity to reach her. But I didn't get the chance. The day after they released her from jail, she was found dead."

"Where did I come in?" I asked.

"I had no idea she was pregnant. No one did," he said somberly. "A month after she died, someone knocked on our door. I remember it was raining that day.  It was the worst storm we had in years. When I opened the door, there you were, wrapped up in a royal blue blanket. I took one look at you and I knew you were her son.  You had her eyes. I made a vow that day that I would do everything and anything to protect you."

"How did Glenroy find out?"

He shrugged. "I asked him that. He said a friend of a friend."

Glenroy was corrupt. He could have found out about me from someone close to Aramos.

"I did everything I could to keep him quiet," my father said softly.

"It doesn't matter now." I rose to my feet. "Mark, Lisa, and Nadya were there when Marcus made his announcement. They all know now."

"I can take care of them." My father said standing behind me. "I'll call..."

"Take care of them how? Run them out of town? Pay them off? I don't want you taking care of anyone. I'm done with living a lie. The truth is out. Let everything fall wherever it falls."

"Son, this is a matter of your life or death. We have got to bury this."

"You tried to bury it," I said turning to face him, "and it didn't work."

"If the Eshkar Council finds out who you are, they will kill you. You're an abomination to them. I don't want to think of what the Neph clan will do if they find out..."

"So, I'll stay in the shadows, move to a different country, change my name again, and cross my fingers that the information doesn't spread beyond the people who already know," I read his mind.

"That's not a bad plan." I could see the wheels turning in my father's head.

"No, dad, it's a terrible plan."

"We could move to Australia, New Zealand, or maybe Japan. I could open a new store. It will be like none of this ever happened."

"Are you even listening? I can't outrun this." I barked.

"Do you really want to stay here and experience what happens when this information reaches the top?"

"Whatever happens, I'll face it."

"I hope Jane doesn't have anything to do with this stubbornness," he eyed me. "Do you really think she'll look at you the same when she finds out the truth? I know you hope she will, but let's face reality. She's not going to see the boy I see. She's going to look at you and see a dirty Neph. That's all anyone is going to see."

I took a deep breath. "I know. That's why I'm going to join the Neph clan.  I need to meet my...Aramos.  I need to hear the full story. I need to know who I am."

Just then, my mother appeared at the top of the stairs. I could tell from the tears in her eyes that she had heard everything.

## ~Jane~

### Chapter Thirty: Capture

I buttoned the last button on my spray-starched white shirt and slipped into my government issued loafers. I looked around at the four walls of my jail cell. I've examined every dirty splatter and every nick on these walls over the last few hours. With no jail mates and no visitors, there was not much else I could do.

After I left the forest with Dr. Chung, I thought that my ordeal was truly over.  I sat with my friends and listened to what happened in the forest.  I sat shocked to silence when they spoke of Aramos being Boothe's biological father.  I let them know that even if it were true, it wouldn't matter.  Boothe deserves to be judged by his own choices and actions and not by circumstances he had no control of.

It was in the middle of this conversation that the Council came to my door and put me in handcuffs.

"You have a visitor," snarled the guard.

I've had two guards tend to me since my arrival this morning. One, a middle-aged woman with full hips, was warm and sweet. She spoke to me about her granddaughters and how her heart would break if they were in my position.

The other guard was also a woman. She looked about the same age as the first guard. That was where the similarities ended. Unlike the first guard, she was cold. As an introduction, she tossed my lunch plate on the cell floor spilling some of the food. She sneered, rippling her pale plum lipstick as I picked up the tray.

This guard roughly pulled my mother into view. My mother pulled her arm away and straightened her clothing.

"Hey, be careful!" I yelled to the guard. I looked at my mother's sullen face. "It's not as bad as it seems," I said, gripping her hand through the cell bars.

"It is bad." She was sobbing quietly. "And it's all my fault. I should have told you the truth about what you were. I should have told you the truth about everything. I just wanted to protect you."

"Ignorance doesn't protect anyone," I whispered.

"I know." She attempted to hold back the tears. "The truth is that I had a hard time after your father died. I was so consumed by grief that I wasn't there for you. I went through the motions but, mentally I checked out.

This was the first time my mother had ever mentioned my father. This was also the first time she had ever shown me this much emotion. I wanted to hear more, but watching her cry just made me want to console her.

I squeezed her hand. "Everything's going to be okay."

"I have to tell you something. I hope you will forgive me."

I looked into her eyes but she quickly turned away. I stretched out my hand and lifted her chin.

"Please don't make this harder," she begged, pulling her face away.

After a few moments, she cleared her throat. "I killed your gran. I'm the reason we had to run."

The words shot like daggers through my chest. I let go of my mother's hand.

"A Nephilim killed your father when you were two. We escaped and relocated to a cabin in the hills. Your gran told me not to take anything from the old home with us to the new one. Any Neph tracker could pick up the scent and find us. She warned me, but I took something anyway.

"My mistakes don't end there. When we moved into the cabin, all I could think about was getting away. I knew that I should have stayed back and been a good parent to you instead of running off to town looking for a new life. But I wasn't thinking clearly. I put what I wanted ahead of what you needed." She began to sob again. "I led Aramos right to our front door."

Looking at tears as they flowed down my mother's face, I realized that she had been punishing herself for this all these years. She swung from being absent to being overbearingly present.

"You didn't kill gran," I reached for her again, "Aramos did."

"Time to go," the guard said as she banged on the bars of my cell. "Your visitor has to leave. The Chairman's waiting." She smiled wickedly.

The guard began to pull my mother away. I clung to her hand as long as possible.

"Look for me in the courtroom," she called back to me as the guard forced her down the hall. "I'll be in your corner."

It was time for my trial.

The Council squashed the Nephilim attack in Milk River, saving me, Lisa, and Mark. After all that happened, the Eshkar Council felt that I should answer for my crimes. They charged me with various Council code violation from exposing oneself in the presence of Normals for the incident at Hellshire Beach and then at the market, finally trespassing. I was rounded up with Nadya, Glenroy, and Dr. Coy. I was then shackled and hauled off to the Eshkar detention centre like a criminal. In the end, the real criminal, Marcus the mastermind behind all of this, got away.

The guard smiled devilishly as she unlocked the gate. "It's time to face your punishment," she said as she pulled me along.

The Eshkar Council Court was held at St. James Church in Spanish Town. The church had an old world charm complete with the traditional stained-glass windows and wood beam vaulted ceiling. By the time I arrived from the detention centre, the small church was filled beyond its capacity. People were perched outside of the church on the steps; they stood shoulder to shoulder in the hallway, and filled every vacant space available inside the church.

I walked up the aisle and took a seat next to my Council appointed representative, a hearty-sized man whose hands trembled as he held his pen and notepad.

I looked back and spotted Dr. Chung, Millicent, Lisa, and Mark who smiled at me warmly. My mother and Aunt Dar sat to my right where they clung to each other. The rest of the hundred or so spectators stood gawking and pointing.

"That's her," I heard some whisper in excitement and others in disappointment. I hated being the centre of attention. Nothing that had happened over the last few months had changed that.

The crowd came to a hush as the Chairman and a panel of three elders entered the room and took their seats at the podium. The Council Chairman, Mr. Menkel, sat in the middle. He was a tall, slender man who stood well above six feet tall. He had a slender face and bushy brows that reminded me of a hairy caterpillar. The stone-faced man we met at the Port Royal head office, named Vice, flanked him. The other elders, one woman and one man, were identical twins. Their similarities went far beyond their full nose and high cheekbones. They walked in unison, breathed in unison, and even tapped their fingers impatiently in unison.

The chairman cleared his throat, which brought the remaining whispers to a halt. "Is there anything you would like to say Miss Miller?" The Chairman asked, only lifting his eyes from the sheets of paper in front of him. "We are prepared to enter your statement into public record."

"No," my representative responded, "there is nothing further."

"You didn't care what I had to say when the attacks happened months ago. Why do you care now?" I asked the Chairman.

The representative looked at me with widened and fearful eyes.

My mother shouted something through her clenched teeth. I didn't hear her exact words but I knew it was a warning that I was pushing the boundary.

"Do you understand the charges for which you have been convicted?" The Chairman continued.

Charged and convicted without a public trial. This Council is unbelievable. I wanted to tell them what they could do with their conviction, but I could feel my mother's eyes at the back of my head so I bit my bottom lip and held my tongue.

"You have been found guilty of trespassing on private Eshkar Council property, guilty of intentionally exposing yourself as an Eshkar in the presence of Normals, and guilty of defying Council code of conduct," Mr. Menkel said coldly. "You still have an opportunity to assist yourself. Give me the names of your accomplices..."

"We are prepared to assist the Council where ever we can..." my representative said.

"I had no accomplices," I spoke over him. "There was no one else involved. I accept the guilty verdict on all charges." My friends had done so much for me already, putting their necks out when they didn't have to. I was determined to make sure that they didn't continue to suffer on my account.

"Although you have vehemently denied that you had any assistance, we know otherwise." Chairman Menkel said, glancing at my friends. "It is impossible for anyone to have done what you have done without some help. Now, if you just tell us..."

"Well," I looked down at my hands, "guess that's why I am the chosen one, because I can do things that you can't."

There were gasps and a few giggles from the audience. Mr. Menkel was not as amused. My mother tugged at my arm feverishly.

"Jane, please," she pleaded.

"Continue on this road, young lady, and you'll make me regret our decision to grant you leniency!" Chairman Menkel's cheeks shook as he shouted.

"Don't do me any favours," I said, releasing myself from my mother's grasp. "You can do whatever you want to."

"Jane!" My mother gasped.

"She doesn't mean any offense," my representative interrupted, standing and bowing before the chairman.

"This whole thing is a sham," I said aloud. I looked up at Council Menkel and my chest began to tighten.

"Your rules were meant to protect people from Nephilims and their evil, yet you did nothing to protect me when I was being attacked at every turn."

The hair on the Chairman's thick brow stood on end. "The rules are there to ensure that order and peace are maintained. Without the rules, there would be chaos. It must be applied with consistency to all."

"If that's the case, why did the commanding officer of your Council Guard, Glenroy Mamos, who is guilty of aiding the Nephilim and endangering not just my life, but the lives of many others, only get three months at a halfway house? The other Nephs involved only got a slap on the wrist. You've called off the search for Marcus. Hasani Boothe, whose only crime is being born, is on the most wanted criminal fugitive list! Where is the consistency in that?"

I swallowed hard after saying Boothe's name.

He pounded his fist against the table. "Do not place your hat where you can't reach it, little girl. You have no position or authority to question any of the directives given by this panel," he objected.

"The Council is answerable to its community..."

"We are answerable to no one!"

I looked back over at the crowd. Their attention was no longer on me. I looked to the panel, on the faces of the Council Elders was recognition of the grave statements Council Chairman Menkel had just made.

From his mouth finally came the truth. The Council was only concerned with preserving their existence and maintaining their power over the lives of Nephilims and Eshkars. They didn't care about the well-being of the Eshkar community. They didn't care about fairness or justice.

This outburst will travel throughout the community from one disgruntled Eshkar to another. Once they realized that the Chairman and the Council was not on their side, they would lose their power.

I couldn't fight my smile.

"Guard! Get Miss Miller out of my sight," Menkel barked. The guard grabbed my arm and roughly pulled me out of my seat.

"Fit her with a monitor!" The Chairman continued to shout as I was marched from the courtroom. "She will not leave the confines of her home without my express permission. She will check in with the Council on a weekly basis for rehabilitation. Should Miss Miller even think of breaching any of these orders, she will be detained for a period of twelve months at the Prison for Wayward Eshkars." The pounding gavel was the last thing I heard before the court doors closed behind me.

Outside the courtroom, a hail of flashing cameras and shouting reporters met me. The crowd closed around me, pushing their microphones in my face.

"Where did you come from?"

"How are you handling the attention and pressure of being the one destined to take on Aramos?"

"How would you characterize your relationship with Hasani Boothe?"

"How did you feel when you discovered what he truly was?"

"I have always known who Boothe really was. He is a strong, caring person who risked everything to help me. Finding out who his parents are doesn't change any of that." I shouted into the crowd.

Then came the barrage of questions about the nature of my relationship with the abomination named Boothe. The more they referred to Boothe as an abomination, the more the blood pumping through my veins began to heat up.

Thankfully, the guard didn't miss a step as he pulled me through the crowd. Finally, we made it to the armoured vehicle. The guard shackled my shaking hands behind my back and put me to sit on a metal bench in the back of the truck. He drew the door closed, leaving me in darkness.

Then he suddenly reopened it.

"Thank you," he said

"For what?" I looked into his grey eyes.

"For doing what none of us had the courage to do.  You exposed the Council for what they are. It's time for people to open their eyes. It took you to do it. Thank you."

"It wasn't my intention to do any of that. I only did what I felt was right."

A faint smile crossed his lips. "Well, if there is anything I can do to help, I'm here."

"Everything they're saying about Boothe, him being an abomination and all, what does that mean?"

He hung his head. A feeling of dread washed over me.

"It's against Council code and Eshkar community tradition for an Eshkar and a Nephilim to...um...to become one," he said. "Any offspring of such a union is considered an abomination and is subject to immediate execution."

My eyes grew wide as they misted over. I swallowed hard before opening my mouth to speak. "What does that really mean?"

"There is a 'kill on spot' order. And there is a significant reward for the Eshkar that carries out the order. He'll be hunted by every Eshkar in the country, maybe the world."

I held my breath. They want to kill Boothe. My hands began to shake. "What's your name?" I asked the guard.

"Urie."

"Urie, I need you to remove my handcuffs and let me go."

"Um..." He hesitated. "I want to, but I can't. I'll lose my job. I could even end up getting charged."

"Fine." I closed my eyes and welcomed the familiar pressure mounting in my chest. "I'll get out myself."

"Um, Miss Miller, um, what are you going to do?"

I pushed my palms against the cool metal seat. The cabin began to shake.

"I'm going to save my friend and kill his father."

