

### KALI'S REGRESS

Book 2 of The Bruinduer Narrative

By

J. Mark Boliek

Copyright © 2015 J. Mark Boliek

All rights reserved.

Published by:

Split Rail Books, LLC on Smashwords

Distributed by Smashwords

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Edited by: Rosanne Catalano

Cover Art by: Lauren Gallegos

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Kali's Regress

Book 1: **The Mahogany Door**

www.smashwords.com/books/view/321037

For:

Mychal

Always,

Mark

1 Kings 3:16-28

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Author's Note

# Chapter 1

One winter's morning I found myself shuffling down the empty beach wrapped in a fleece jacket with the cool white sand tickling the bottom of my feet.

I have always loved the beach during the winter, though I'm not totally certain why. Maybe it's because there are no vacationers around that time of the year or maybe it's because the fresh air whipping around the sand and across the waves, filling your nose with the smell of salt, and turning your thoughts inward as you snuggle in your coat. I really do not know, but I knew I was happy to be finishing my stroll and heading to the next destination on my self-appointed rounds, Warhead Dale.

The newspapers called it "the Citadel by the Sea" less than four years back, when the most damaging storm this coast has seen since Hurricane Hugo hit. That uncommon northeaster, now affectionately known as "Northy Nick," churned across our region, damaging quite a bit of property, turning some higher ground on our coast into swampland and some swampland into a sandy beachfront. The brutal storm then unexpectedly hung around, right off of our shoreline, for a full eleven hours until it finally dispersed, leaving its wake of destruction.

During that tempest I was fortunate enough to be telling a very old tale to a group of twelve-year-olds. The tale featured some old friends of mine: Michael Peterson, JT Davis, Kali Logan, and our Citadel by the Sea.

Unbeknownst to me and my dedicated young band of story listeners, old Northy Nick had a far more horrible aftermath in town than at the house. After my grandson James and I escorted our last guests through the iron gate on the morning after the storm, we surveyed the wreckage left around the grounds of Warhead Dale and quickly concluded that no major damage had been done, except maybe a few broken windows—if you consider that major. In the following week or so, we called workers to come and mend the grand old mansion's minor bruises. By then, we had begun to understand the beating our town by the sea took.

Athens Eden sits in a little nook on the coast and juts out into the ocean on a peninsula of sorts. Small barrier islands protect its cobblestone roads and quaint shops from the rising seas. But Northy Nick could not have cared less about those little defenders. He decided, in no uncertain terms, to rip inlets through some of the islands' dunes and then to eat away at the remainder of the coast. One of the beaches he devoured just happened to be next to Warhead Dale.

Call it divine intervention or what you will, but the white sands off the old house's back deck were spared any destruction. A strip of beach about three quarters of a mile to the north was not so fortunate. Old Northy Nick decided that sand needed to move, making a new basin to the fresh water river that flowed from the west. That one act of damage caused a huge ruckus in our booming, rustling little town.

You see, the water table beneath the New Cape River provides the town with fresh water. The town's government feared that the new basin created by the storm would cause sea water to empty into the river, making the water table, over time, brackish and undrinkable. They acted fast. Councils in a sordid spectrum of capacities met in gyms and municipal buildings throughout the region in order to come up with an idea for correcting the little problem Northy Nick had left us.

I remember vividly standing in front of the town council and stating that I felt that we should leave what nature had given us and accept the fact that our fresh water now needed to come from a water table further up the river. We could easily have moved our water stations further west, where the water, not as tainted, would be easier to treat and, in some ways, more abundant.

By my calculation, it would have been cheaper than what the council did do.

I believe that people try to keep things the way they are. For some reason, if something bad happens, no matter what it might be, people blame bad planning or lack of preparation instead of the actual event, whether it be random or designed by powers beyond their control.

Surprisingly, a majority of the council voted that the town should spend many thousands of dollars in "repairing" the new basin created by Northy Nick. A team of engineers came out, assessed the issue, then, in turn, requested bids from other companies that had the wherewithal to tackle the problem. I am disheartened to report that the so-called solution was to dredge the ocean floor some three hundred yards out and literally blow sand to build the beach back up, creating a sort of dam to keep the ocean out of the basin. There is only one problem: You can't keep the ocean out. For nearly four years, they had been dredging and trying to keep Northy Nick's basin filled.

On this cool winter's day, I decided to walk on the Athens Eden beach to survey the latest attempt to arrest the sea.

I know my descriptions are not very flattering, but the ocean had already eaten away a quarter of last month's dredging by then. Obviously nature was taking back what belonged to it in the first place. I still believe that moving the water stations would have been easier.

On the beach side of Warhead Dale, a wooden boardwalk ran from the porch and out across a pile of rocks, dumped there to prevent erosion. The eastern sun peeked over the horizon, blazing an intense yellow reflected on the home's wall of glass windows. I shielded my eyes, turned toward the ocean, and admired the strokes of gold, violet, and orange painted by the sun. I dug my toes into the soft, chilly sand that was good for my knees and breathed in a healthy dose of salt-laced air. I imagined a council somewhere voting to try to keep the rays of the sun at bay and chuckled as I exhaled.

I stood there for maybe three minutes, admiring God's handiwork. Then I felt a small hand rest on my right shoulder. It felt quite relaxing in one sense, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't startled. I wheeled around as fast as my old bones would let me.

Standing about three wooden steps up above me was a familiar, beautiful young lady. Her long, thick brown ponytail had lighter highlights and her eyes sparkled with a brilliant green.

"Oh." The young lady squealed and snatched her hand back. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

Her voice tickled the air, resonating the way voices only do at the beach. Her features were striking, as was the touch of sadness in her distant eyes. She tucked her hands in her blue and gold hooded North Bank High School sweatshirt and reluctantly smiled. I hated to see such a labored smile on someone so young and pretty.

"Don't worry, my dear. I am just out and about seeing what trouble I can get into," I replied. I wished I could speak more eloquently. Instead, I asked the obvious question. "What can I do for you?"

The young lady looked to the left, then right, then behind her. She seemed not totally certain why she stood there, but she gulped and, in a very hollow voice, said, "You don't remember me, do you?"

Taken aback, I had to admit that I did recognize her, but I did not remember her name.

"It's okay," she continued. "I really didn't expect you to remember me, since it has been so long since I've been here. My family moved away from the beach about two and a half years ago."

She fiddled her hands in her sweatshirt's pockets. "I was here during the big storm when you told the story about Bruinduer."

The memories of my day of storytelling when Northy Nick blew in flooded my mind. My grandson James had just opened Warhead Dale for the public to enjoy. He had worked hard for a long time to renovate the old mansion that once belonged to the Davis family, only to have the grand opening ruined by a storm with a bad temper. But it only took a couple of months to repair Northy Nick's damage, so my grandson reopened the home to an even larger fanfare in the spring.

After the storm, word of my tales of Bruinduer spread like wildfire, not only through our region, but across the country. Since then, hundreds, if not thousands, of children had come to the citadel by the sea to walk its corridors. They looked for nooks in the old house they could get lost in or tried in vain to find the inner room in the basement, the room that housed the mahogany door.

"Are you JM's daughter?" I asked.

"Who?" the young woman asked.

"JM—you know, the man who wrote the book?" Looking back, I wish I had never asked that question, because, as I looked at her with hopeful eyes, tears began to fall from hers.

"No, I'm sorry, but I'm not his daughter. I think I should just leave." She turned around, hung her head, and took a couple of steps back toward the house.

When I told the story of Bruinduer four years ago, one of the children's parents wrote a book about JT and his friends' adventure through the mahogany door. That book was probably the biggest reason that Warhead Dale had become a popular tourist spot.

For some reason, I thought she might be his daughter. It was an innocent mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. And now I felt bad.

"Wait," I called to the young lady, who paused. "I apologize for my rudeness. I am an old man and my memory sometimes is not what it should be. Please give me a second chance."

The young lady glanced away from me and sniffled. She wiped her nose with her bare hand, then turned around. It was devastating to see her emerald eyes reddened.

"Please," I began. "Take a walk with me."

My flip-flops would have to wait another few minutes. I took her delicate, shaking hand and guided her down the last few wooden steps onto the beach.

"The sand feels really good beneath your feet. Especially if you kick off your shoes and roll your pant legs up." I smiled encouragingly, then chuckled, but I could see that she felt more restless than anything. Something hid deep in the pretty young lady's mind.

She did as I suggested and we walked toward the ocean. Despite the awkward silence, I did not open up with the obligatory, "Penny for your thoughts" line. Instead, I told her a little more about the beach and house I loved so much.

"You know," I began as she wiped her nose one last time. On her face, I could see that she agreed that the cool sand felt nice on the sole. "Warhead Dale is more than a house and this beach is more than a strip of sand. It's a lifestyle."

The young lady chuckled.

"Well, it's true." I liked her smile.

"Once, Warhead Dale was the only house on this beach. You see, not a whole lot of people used to come to the coast for vacation. There were many reasons for that, but one of the largest was the threat of storms. I'm not talking about the nice, soaking thunderstorms of the late summer; I'm talking about hurricanes and nor'easters. Those monstrous storms can leave a frightful impression on the minds of vacationers who want to relax. Old Northy Nick a few years ago is a perfect example."

The young girl nodded, her shoulders loosening.

"Though I am not surprised that the beach and the ocean lure people in the end. The beach is one of those places where folks can find answers to questions that percolate in their thoughts as they sit in their offices, cubes, or desks.

"You know, now that I think about it, that is exactly what brought me back here many years ago. It was the perfect place to walk, look at the vastness of the ocean, feel the brisk wind rip through my hair, and think. I never really missed it until I'd been away for so long." I glanced out at the crystal morning ocean. The ocean always looks its best when the sun first comes up.

"This leads me to a question that has been bugging me for a bit." I looked down at her over my right shoulder. She was tall for her age, which I guessed to be sixteen. Her ponytail was starting to come loose from the wind. She smiled and crossed her arms, because I think she knew what the question might be.

"What am I doing here?" the young lady guessed abruptly, cracking another perfect smile. She looked back up toward Warhead Dale, then down at her feet as we made our way to the edge of the ocean. She flicked bits of sand with her toes.

"Hmm," I said. "Actually, I was wondering what your name is." I grinned at her. "But now that you bring that other question up, you can answer that one, too."

There was a long pause, but I waited. That was another good thing about being at the beach. Time just doesn't seem to matter there.

"My name is Brandy and I don't know why I came out here." Her voice cracked as she broke the silence. "Well, I do, but now that I think about it, maybe it wasn't such a good idea. I mean, you probably have better things to do than talk to me about anything."

"Well, Brandy, I'm sorry you think that way. I apologize if I am off the mark because I am such a bad judge of people's moods, but you appear to be someone who is dealing with a very serious issue. I would love to talk about it with you. I may not be able to fix your problem, but I will listen."

"I don't know how to begin," Brandy started. She took a deep breath and sighed. "I got some news last night that I just don't know how to deal with. I'm so angry. I left my house, jumped in my car, and drove. I drove all night and, for some reason, ended up here."

I was taken aback again. "Well, what news did you get? I mean, that is, if you want me to know."

A tear fell from her cheek. I could see her struggle with the words as her throat seized her voice, but, with a little extra effort, she got the words out. "I found out that I was adopted."

My heart fluttered. Now I knew why my earlier question about whose daughter she might be caused a negative reaction. I felt even worse for asking it, but I took a deep breath.

I let her calm her nerves a little before I spoke. I could only imagine what might be going through her brain. I hoped I could help.

"I think I ended up here because, like you said, a question kept popping up as I was lying in my room. I don't know why I had to find out the answer or why I even thought about it, but I waited for everyone to go to bed and came here. I drove for, like, eight hours to get here, because this is the only place I know I can get the answer."

My first thought was that I needed to contact Brandy's parents to let them know that she was okay. I would do that, but my second thought was curiosity. I wanted to know what made this young girl drive eight hours to Warhead Dale. What answer was she looking for and to what question? I could only guess at that point, but, as Brandy explained, I realized why she looked familiar. I even remembered the tug.

"Four years ago, my dad brought me here and, by chance, you were telling the story about the mahogany door and JT and everything, like I said. At the end of the story, I remembered that you said that Kali left, but you never said where she went. You also said that if we had any questions that you would answer them when you finished.

"Well, the morning after we slept over, when we were leaving, I remember asking you a couple of questions, but I never got the answer to one. I don't know why, but that's the question that kept bothering me last night. It was weird, but after I found out about being adopted, I got real mad at my mom. I could feel my temper boil. I yelled and cursed and said all kinds of bad things, but, even while I was lashing out at her, that one question kept entering my thoughts."

That night of Northy Nick was still very fresh in my mind. People say that, when you get older, you remember more from your younger years. I think this case might have been an exception since I was still dealing with the aftermath of that storm as the incompetent town council tried to hold the ocean back.

"I can guess the question you want to ask me," I started. "And I actually remember the exchange as though it was last week. I would also like to say that you have grown very much since the last time I saw you; you have blossomed into a very pretty young lady. I apologize that I did not recognize you before and for my insensitive question about being JM's daughter. I can only imagine the pain that must have inflicted. Please forgive me."

Brandy nodded her head and swallowed.

"But, if you don't mind," I continued. "Will you humor this old man and please ask your question again? I remember two and want to make sure that the one you ask is the one that I will wholeheartedly answer."

Brandy stopped and turned toward the ocean. I took a few steps past her and did the same. She rubbed her arms, then brushed the hair from her now tattered ponytail out of her eyes. I could see her confidence growing as we stood in the cool sand beyond Warhead Dale. Even if Brandy couldn't understand her conflicted, angry feelings about the discovery of her adoption, she would get the answer to the question that she drove eight hours to ask. I felt honored that she had.

In a very clear voice, the question danced across the sound of the breaking waves and the crisp, cool breeze of a winter's morning at the beach. "At the end of the story you told four years ago, they all came back from Bruinduer. Of course, I already know what happened to JT, but what _did_ happen to Kali?"

# Chapter 2

"It's not like I have never heard that question before. After JM wrote his book about the time I told my story those years ago, he came by many times, trying to obtain the story of Kali's regress. I have to admit that I began to tell the story a couple of times at Warhead Dale. Enthusiastic young folk gathered around my old black leather chair, but, without a storm stranding my guests for an adventurous night of storytelling, most of my listeners had to leave before I could get to the real crux of the plot. Not that I want anyone to be stranded, of course.

"That's the worst thing about telling stories, I think; sometimes there is just not enough time. Each time I sit down in the great hall of Warhead Dale in that now famous black leather chair, the faces in front of me are, sadly, different. It would be bad form for me to start the story in the middle with new listeners. Only a real artist can start from the middle of a story and keep a listener's attention. I'm not such an artist. Most of my recent tellings only got to the part where her father..."

"Is this a bad time?" The voice rang in my ear; I realized I'd fallen silent. Brandy sounded concerned.

I shook my head and came out of my semi-trance. I didn't realize that I had zoned out on my young companion.

"Oh, umm." I had no idea what was wrong with me. I snapped back to reality. "Of course not, my dear. I'm sorry that I am fuzzy-headed and not paying attention. It seems this old man has a hard time getting the brain going in the morning." I rubbed my hands together, because I knew, or at least hoped, that this time I could tell the entire story of what transpired after the events of the Mahogany Door. Brandy's eyes showed her sincere interest; there would just be no way that I could curtail the story.

I dug my feet into the chilly sand and, instead of making my way back up the wooden stairs, I continued away from Warhead Dale as I began Kali's story. Brandy eagerly walked beside me.

"Trust is a very complex concept. I like to think of it as an emotion," I said. "It can be either fleeting or adhesive. You can trust someone at all costs, no matter how things seem, or you can trust others as far as you can throw them, as the saying goes."

Brandy's eyes widened. I sensed her muscles tighten as she began to rub her arms again. I had to believe that the idea of trust made her uneasy. I cannot be sure, but, at that moment, her trust in her parents was probably shaken at best and shattered at worst.

"I only bring up the trust paradox because it is important to remember. It is the underlying conflict between JT Davis and Michael Peterson after their last adventure together.

"I will try not to be long-winded or rehash the story told in _The Mahogany Door_. I know you came to hear all about Kali and I am happily going to tell you her story, but I think it's important to remember where her story starts."

Brandy looked at me with a little concern, then nodded her head.

"I am sure you remember, but Michael and JT returned from their exploit through the mahogany door, saving it from collapse after their nine-year absence. Afterward, they stood on the back deck of Warhead Dale and gazed out over a beautiful, new morning. The crisp air had the fall coolness that usually doesn't show up until mid-October in these parts. It was in the air early at the beach that year. Something familiar and peculiar rummaged through JT's mind. He thought, _what now_?

"No more than an hour before JT had asked himself that same question, but in the middle of a raging battle on the sands of Bruinduer. It is odd if you really think about it. You may make it through a grand adventure or reach a goal that you thought you would never reach and then not know where your life will take you from that moment on. It reminds me of a description I once heard. It seems there was a very young presidential candidate who had many grand ideas, dreams, and thoughts about how he would make things different for his country. He really didn't have a lot of experience, but he never thought he would get elected. To his surprise—and everyone else's—he was voted into office and found himself in the unexpected position of actually having to govern."

Brandy looked at me as if I had grown three horns out of my head. I tried to explain just a little more.

"I know that might sound a little confusing, but I only tell you that because, if you ever find yourself in a similar situation, I advise you to gather the right people around you, ones you can trust. Someone entrusted with the power that comes from certain positions, like being president or being the steward of a key to a magical land, needs all the trustworthy and loyal help they can get.

"So, you see, JT was in a very unyielding situation. He had become part of a fantastical tale and wanted to talk it over. The only people he thought he could rely on completely were Kali and his grandfather. But, if you remember, his grandfather came to him as a ghostly visitor; JT couldn't know for sure if his visions of the old sailor were real. And Kali had left Warhead Dale without so much as a good-bye.

"That left Michael and, after what had transpired just a few days before he and Michael gazed out at the morning sun from the porch at Warhead Dale, JT could not summon any feeling close to trust for his friend—or the friend he thought he had.

"About a week before they went through the mahogany door the second time, Michael showed up at the farm owned by Louise and Gregory Shorts. They let JT live there, doing manual labor and basking in a life void of any memory of his childhood—or anything else, for that matter.

"You may remember that JT lost both of his parents when he was young. His mother died when a water truck plowed into the side of her car. Unfortunately, JT saw the whole thing. He fainted, smashing his head on the porch floor and losing his memory of everything that happened before that moment.

"Michael talked JT and Kali into returning to JT's grandfather's old house—Warhead Dale. Once at the house, they returned to Bruinduer, where Michael secretly made a pact with Charlie Blackburn, who had lived in Bruinduer since the last time they walked through the mahogany door nine years ago.

"To make a long story short and keep my promise of not talking too long, Michael wanted a life for himself in Bruinduer, one he couldn't make happen in our world. He would have done anything to claim it, even agreeing to have his friends, JT and Kali, killed."

"Yeah," Brandy spoke up. "I remember all of that and it was really well told in the book, too."

"Really?" I asked. "You read the book?"

"Everybody read the book," Kali answered.

I have to admit, the book JM wrote does a good job telling what happened when JT, Michael, and Kali returned to Bruinduer and had their grand adventure.

"Well, then, I hope you can understand why JT would have a hard time trusting Michael. I think it would be very hard for someone to get over the fact that someone who called you a friend wanted you dead."

Brandy agreed and I was glad.

"They took her in the night."

Brandy's eyes grew wide and she breathed in a mountain of salt air.

"There were no usual signs of forced entry—no broken windows or doors, not even a miniscule amount of metal debris left from a key or screwdriver picking the lock. Nothing of that sort. The police did not even find a partial fingerprint or a trace of thread from any article of clothing. In a freak, blinding snowstorm Kali disappeared from her warm, inviting home outside of Baltimore, Maryland." I paused a little. ''Of course, the roof had been torn off, but that is hardly a usual sign of forced entry."

"Oh my gosh! Who was it?" Brandy asked, her breath shallow. I could see the fright in her eyes. "And how?"

"I know—exciting, right? But before I get into the real details of how Kali Logan was snatched from her bedroom through a hole in the roof, I need to go back to Michael and JT the morning after they returned from their most recent trip through the mahogany door, this time after nine long years.

"As JT looked over the bright ocean, feeling the brittle air hit him in the face and the smooth salt penetrating his nostrils, a small sort of idea pinged his brain. Maybe Kali just left the house. Maybe she did not get very far. He remembered that, right after they had come in at the gate, the vines that had grown over it, sealed it shut, making the cold metal entrance impossible to climb over. Maybe the gate trapped Kali.

"JT searched his thoughts, then turned, plowed through Warhead Dale's halls, and went out the hole left when Billy blew apart the large oak front doors. He hobbled as fast as his bum knee and cane would let him. He rushed down the marble steps and across the front lawn, even lifting his cane for a moment. He took his full weight on his wrecked knee for as long as he could take the pain of each step. His heart pounded and his chest hurt as he made his way through the tunnel of trees to the iron gate at the entrance of Warhead Dale.

"JT wasn't alone, to his surprise. Michael followed him up the winding driveway, pestering him. Michael kept trying to get JT to acknowledge him. He tapped his shoulder, asking over and over again, 'Um, JT, where are you going?'

"JT and Michael came to the small opening at the entrance. It looked a little different in the daylight, small and regular rather than the dark, dangerous place from the night before. If they looked closely enough, they could make out the iron gate under the vines that smothered it. Unfortunately, Kali was not standing there. JT was devastated.

" _Maybe she made her way through the vines somehow_ , JT thought. His own thoughts sounded somber to him. He lifted his cane toward the curtain of trees and branches. Last time, when he stood on the other side of the gate trying to enter, the eyes of the ivory skull and crossbones handle exploded into a red glow. Today, nothing happened. The vines stayed tightly wrapped around the cold black iron of the gate.

"The barrier between JT and Kali now was even more impossible to surmount.

"Michael and JT stood at the empty area around the gate, gazing into the sky, dumbfounded.

"JT's head felt fuzzy; his arms shook. He had no idea what he should do next. He had no interest in his own well-being, only Kali. No matter how hard Michael tried to distract JT from worrying about getting her back, JT could not stop thinking about the girl he had met at Michael's sister's café, the girl with the burning blue eyes.

"'JT, I wish I could tell you...,' Michael tried once again, but JT turned and made his way back down the long driveway, through the tunnel of trees, through Warhead Dale, and back out to the wooden walkway to the beach.

Brandy looked backed as we made our way a little further from Warhead Dale, shuffling through the sand.

"Yes," I said, answering her thought. "That walkway we just came down is the same walkway—though I would be lying if I said it was the original wood. That wood has been replaced quite a few times over the years, I do believe.'

Brandy chuckled a little and I was glad.

"JT walked with his head down, sulking, until he noticed something in the sand. A trail of wet footprints led along the walkway toward the ocean.

"JT walked along at a gingerly pace. When he landed at the edge of sand, he saw a few shoe prints. Then those shoe prints turned to bare footprints, as if the walker took their shoes off as soon as they reached the sand. JT did the same thing, kicking his shoes off his feet and digging his exposed soles into the cold sand. The feeling shot through his body like a bolt of lightning, relaxing his body. A complete sense of peace washed over him like a warm breeze. He felt as if he had been searching for that feeling all of his life. He couldn't explain it, but he had found it somehow.

"He started to follow the footprints out to the ocean, placing his feet in them. Somehow he knew the footprints were Kali's. He felt completely connected with her as he walked up the beach tracing her every step.

"He walked closer to the ocean's edge. After a hundred yards or so, the footprints became further and further apart, as though Kali had gained momentum. The footprints became too far apart for JT to walk in them. Kali had started running.

"JT pursued the footprints as far as he could, but, after a few dozen yards, they disappeared, the ocean swallowing them with its waves breaking on the shore. JT felt a lump in his throat; his heart hurt. At that moment, he felt he would never see Kali again.

# Chapter 3

Brandy's bright eyes showed her interest, though she was quiet. I do not know if she was still thinking about her own predicament or if she was politely not interrupting the story. I could tell that her adventure had cheered her up; she probably did not take road trips like that often. I believe she was sincerely concerned about Kali. She seemed to be trying to find parallels between her life and Kali's. Of course, I have always thought myself a bad judge of others' moods, but I hope I was close that time.

* * * * *

JT gave up trying to follow phantom footprints in the sand. He turned back. Michael was making his way up the beach to meet him.

_If anything_ , JT thought, _Michael is trying to be loyal_. He still felt strange about the whole situation; he still didn't trust Michael after what just happened in Bruinduer.

"I'm sorry, JT," Michael said, but JT could not hear anything. For some reason, no one mattered to him but himself, what had happened in Bruinduer, and whatever was happening to Kali now. It didn't matter to him that Michael might have needed a friend or might want to be forgiven. He could do neither.

Would there be any more to this adventure or could he just forget what happened and head back to Louise, Gregory, and the familiar safety of the farm two hundred miles away? Bruinduer was saved and at least he knew Kali was not in harm's way. He had nothing left to do in Athens Eden. Why was this trip to Bruinduer eating at him so much? Going back to the farm was the logical thing to do.

"I want to be alone, Michael," JT said as he gazed out over the ocean.

His eyes followed the peaceful swells of the Atlantic, rising, falling, then crashing gently on the shore. It seemed odd that he had looked for and found the road to his lost childhood, the childhood he so desperately wanted to own, but now he only wanted to forget about it. Like Michael had before, he felt that the price he would pay to continue his journey was much higher than he realized. How could this road to happiness, remembrance, and victory be so full of pain?

Michael followed JT's eyes out over the deep blue sea. Not a word was spoken for a few moments. Just like at the Shorts' farm, they would have to make a decision soon.

"It's only Sunday." Michael broke the silence.

"What do you mean?" JT responded.

"When we walked into Bruinduer, it was early on Saturday morning. I came to get you on Thursday and we left on Friday, if I remember right. We got to Warhead Dale on that same Friday night. We walked through the mahogany door sometime in the early hours of Saturday morning. It is now Sunday—Sunday morning."

Michael stretched.

JT continued to stare out into nothingness. Then something strange happened. His memories of Bruinduer faded a bit. In fact, the memory of the final battle against Charlie sank into his mind and became only a faded image.

"It's taken a while, but the three years I spent in Bruinduer are starting to vanish from my mind. Bruinduer does that to you, you know." Michael angled his head to the sand. "If time has no meaning in Bruinduer, then I suppose whatever we did there actually has no meaning."

"You lie!" JT turned and yelled at Michael. His vivid memory of the Bridge of Common exploding, his feelings throughout the entire adventure couldn't have been for nothing. Angry, JT started his hike back to Warhead Dale, limping the entire way.

Michael followed, trying to walk with JT, but JT held up his hand for Michael to stay behind him, far behind him.

JT marched as hard as his knee would let him. The cane did not help in the sand. A few more yards of hard walking and JT's mind began to swim. He had never experienced anything like it. The intense emotions he felt about his time in Bruinduer made their way to the back of his mind. He began to feel that what he, Michael, and Kali experienced had happened, but more like a lifetime ago instead of a day.

JT didn't want the memories to be erased so easily. He finally had memories of something important happening to him. Now, just as they had after his mother's fatal accident, these memories were vanishing, too.

"Please!" JT yelled in his brain. "This is all that I have—do not take this away!" He did not know who he expected to hear him, but in his heart, he wanted to speak to Billy, the essence of Bruinduer.

JT tramped up the wooden stairs, over the dunes, through Warhead Dale, and into the makeshift elevator at the end of the long hallway past the great hall. He flung the door open and slammed his fist against the red button. The door slammed shut. The elevator screeched and ground its way to the basement room that held the mahogany door.

The elevator door lurched open and JT stumbled out into the dark corridor. He raised the cane above his head like he had the night before. "I demand to be recognized!" he screamed at the top of his voice.

He heard nothing but swift silence. No red beams of light shot from the ruby eyes of the skull and crossbones to illuminate an ancient map. Only the black coldness of the outer wall stared back at him.

JT let his eyes adjust to the darkness and brought the cane closer to his face. He shook it up and down—was it broken?

He raised the cane above his head and tried to get Billy's attention once again. Nothing.

JT thought for minute, then his shoulders slouched. He remembered, though the memories had faded moments ago, that he had made Kali the steward of the key. He remembered his grandfather, in a dream, saying that only the steward of the key could command the power of the cane. He felt amazingly stupid, just like when he made his way to Athens Eden to try to find his lost childhood. Now he had so many more questions than answers.

JT, dejected and angry, made his way into the elevator and back up to the great hall. He slammed himself down the musty green couch and flung his neck back. He stared at the once leaky ceiling. Instead of hearing the pitter-patter of small, fat drops of water, he saw small, bright beams of sunlight shoot through, lighting the walls and splattering polka dots across the room.

JT thought about the last time he sat on that couch. Kali had been beside him, curled up and sleeping so peacefully. He could almost feel her warm body. He placed his hand beside him, in hopes of maybe touching some sort of aura left behind. His hand tingled, but it wasn't the same.

A few moments later, JT felt the cushions beside him sink. He opened his eyes. Michael, his former best friend, sat beside him.

"Man, I wish I could change everything, JT," Michael said. "But I can't."

"What makes you think that I want to change anything?" JT asked. His mind, like so many times before, had wandered, the questions piling one on top of the other. _Would he always do that?_

"I don't know, JT. It seems like ever since you've been back, you've wanted to control everything that is happening around you. It's like what everybody else says doesn't matter." Michael looked at the wet, mud-encrusted floor by his feet. "I know I did wrong in Bruinduer, though I thought I was doing right at the time. I've learned from my mistakes—I hope. I thought you and I could just stay in Bruinduer and forget about the world out here. I thought it could be like it was when we were kids. We worried about nothing. I know that can't happen, no matter how much I want it. All I can do is be here now. And hope you can forgive me."

"You wanted me dead," JT snorted, unconvinced.

"I am so sorry, JT—I was never going to let anything happen to you. Like I told you before, I thought I could handle everything that was happening by myself. I learned that I couldn't. I just wish you would learn the same thing."

"What?" JT's skin felt hot. His hair on his arms prickled. _How dare Michael lecture me?_

"I can help you, JT. I can help you the right way. I know I can't con my way back to something I could never have anymore, anyway. I have to face this life head on." As he pleaded with JT to give him a second chance, Michael's voice cracked and wavered. He pressed his lips together until they turned white.

"How exactly can you help—me?" JT retorted.

"I can do this the way I should have before. I can start from the beginning." Michael took a hefty breath, regaining a small bit of control over his emotions.

"Well." JT sucked in what felt like a gallon of air. He wanted to think about what to say before he spit something out, but stubbornness got the best of him. He blurted out the first biting, nasty thing he could think of. "I don't want your help."

Michael was taken aback. He thought that now, if he could start to be honest, JT would actually be receptive. Of course, JT had no reason to believe him.

A pause filled the great hall of Warhead Dale. The sun climbed the morning sky, warming the inside of the dilapidated mansion, but the mood between the two friends stayed cold.

Michael stood up. JT laid his head on the green couch's back. Michael fumbled through JT's duffel bag, still lying on the floor in front of them. He pulled out Ol' Captain Luke's journal, flipped quickly through the pages, fastened the leather strap, then tossed it onto JT's lap. The book thumped down on JT's legs, but he did not flinch.

"I read through that journal a hundred times or more, JT. There is a lot of information on the pages in that old leather case. The words aren't faded anymore—since we saved Bruinduer from collapse and all, I guess." Michael turned away from JT and walked out of Warhead Dale. "I'm going back to my sister's place. She's probably worried. She'll never believe this anyway."

Michael was mad at JT for sure. He wanted to help his friend, but he knew deep down he couldn't force JT to do anything. He also understood that JT had no reason to trust him. Michael knew in his heart that he would not lead JT down the wrong path on purpose, but he had to let his former friend decide for himself.

As Michael walked out the door, JT mumbled, "Fine. Go then."

JT had what he wanted. He was alone. Alone with his thoughts, alone with whatever decision he was about to make.

The silence of solitude is very hard to describe. Every little bump from the ceiling or creak in the floor is amplified tenfold, becoming a clamor. It can drive you mad if you let it take hold, especially when you do not know what to do next.

JT fumbled with the journal that lay on his lap. Did he dare open his grandfather's journal? Anything written on those pages might be more trouble than it was worth. Like so many times before, he wondered if he actually wanted to know about his past. He could have never imagined Bruinduer or Billy or even meeting Kali and Michael again—what other surprises awaited him between those pages, now that they could be read?

He took a deep breath and unfastened the leather strap that held the journal together. A few loose pages fell to the couch, including the familiar pictures of his grandfather. One image showed his grandfather sitting stoically in his uniform, smirking at the photographer; the other showed him with his friend Jato in ceremonial garb, obviously exultant about concluding whatever it is they had done.

JT picked up a piece of paper and glanced at it. Unlike the last time he had looked at the pages, the writing was dark and legible. He slammed the paper down. He knew that, no matter how many questions popped into his mind about his grandfather, he would find the answers now.

JT swallowed and his forehead felt hot. His forearms tightened. He opened to the journal to the first page.

The first line startled him and, once he began to read, he knew that this journal would be different than anything he had read before.

January 14, 1946

Dear Reader,

Keeping this journal in the way that I am is very egotistical. As you may have noticed, I have started these entries in a manner that reflects my belief that others will read it. If you are reading this and you are not I, then I am correct.

In these pages you will find a most interesting adventure, to say the least. You may have noticed that I did not say, I "hope" you will find a most interesting adventure. That phrase would only apply at the start of a journey that does not end quite as expected. I know that this journey will meet all of the characteristics and definitions of the phrase "most interesting."

JT chuckled and his forearms released their tension. His curiosity bloomed. He continued reading.

Last evening, a messenger came and handed me a written order. From whom this order came, I am sorry to report that I cannot say—well, at least for the moment. I am ordered to apprehend a criminal. I do not know who this criminal is nor do I know where to start in this caper. I only know that I must capture this villain, for my orders come from a person to be reckoned with.'

As JT read on in the journal, each word grabbed him and held him with such vigor that it would have taken an army to pull him out. His grandfather went on at length about how he came to be a captain of a ship. The old sailor gave a very interesting genealogy for his family, starting with an ancestor who seemed to be a caveman. He continued the family tree with an endless list of poets, shoemakers, carpenters, and even one king of a small land with the population of only fifty people.

In time, it dawned on JT that not only were these people his grandfather's ancestors, they were also his. He stopped reading for a brief minute to contemplate why he had not inherited any of his forefathers' outstanding traits. He doubted that he could ever put anything into prose, let alone build anything out of wood.

The afternoon fell into darkness. The days, along with the season, crept into the shadows of fall and winter. A chill bit at JT's skin within the hole-pocked walls of Warhead Dale, so he started a fire.

He ignored the hunger pains that cramped his stomach and moved close to the flickering flames to continue reading Ol' Captain Luke's diary. He crossed his legs and focused his mind.

January 21, 1946

The day has started like no other. After two weeks, I have assembled a crew to carry out my orders to apprehend a mysterious criminal. Even after a number of clandestine meetings with my employer, in which I never see his face, I do not know what this person has done. I do know that this man must be brought to justice, though I am still not certain in which national court he will appear.

The crew is of a most interesting sort. Mercenaries have a most uncivilized reputation, but I will say that none of the men who accompany me on this adventure are typical of a rogue group of hired sailors.

Thirty souls, men with extensive experience at sea, will handle the day-to-day sailing of the ship. Twelve individuals, including myself, will dine in the officers' mess. My executive officer, Terrian Murray, is a former classmate of mine and a navigator like no other.

Writing extensively about the other ten men, all important in their own right, would only waste the precious time I have to prepare for this journey. Besides, short descriptive paragraphs would not do justice to these men, who are as close to me as any brothers might be. I will simply list their positions, minus the executive officer, whom I have already mentioned. They are: ship's physician, weapons officer, quartermaster, bosun's mate, engineer, second navigator, surveyor, reconnaissance officer, cultural scientist, and chaplain. It is highly possible—or not—that you will learn about each as this journey progresses, my dear reader.

_I must leave you now, but know fast and true that I am busy refitting the bowels of my mighty ship, the_ Mary Maid _, for this once in an age adventure._

JT's stomach cramped. He had one sandwich in his duffel bag, leftover from the ones that Linda had made before their journey to Bruinduer, two days and a lifetime ago. He unwrapped his feast, took a quick sniff to make sure it wasn't too ripe, then chomped down. His stomach relaxed.

Since nightfall, the dropping temperature had sunk its teeth into him. Even in his shoes, his toes were numb. He threw as many dry logs as he could find on the embers of the fire and huddled under a few crusty furniture covers, regardless of the filth. He tried to read more of Ol' Captain Luke's journal, but could not hold his eyes open any longer. He fell into deep slumber.

* * * * *

Brandy hunched her shoulders and plunged her hands into the front pockets of her sweatshirt. If I had to guess, I'd say the temperature had dropped ten degrees while I talked, a very quick and noticeable drop.

Living at the beach has its pros and its cons. The beach, especially near Warhead Dale, has milder winters, so those who like wintery weather might call that a con. The weather does get just cold enough to drive the sunbathers away for a good seven months, which I consider a pro.

I turned around. Brandy and I had walked about half a mile from the steps of Warhead Dale. I suggested that we turn back, since I did not know if the weather would get any better. The weather can be unpredictable at the beach—that is what I would call another con.

Brandy agreed to turn back. I gazed out over the ocean and noted the development of grayish, fluffy clouds with a white tint. This kind of cloud does not rear its head in these parts very often at all.

I continued my tale as my young companion and I trudged back to Warhead Dale.

* * * * *

Much like the sky above us on the beach, the sky was overcast when JT woke the next morning in Warhead Dale. No sun poked its rays through the holes that dotted the old mansion's walls. A melancholy mood blanketed the house, very different than the morning before. Then it had felt like a new beginning, almost hopeful, with the bright rays of the sun beaming over the ocean, but now the clouds, inside and out, left JT feeling much more uncertain. It is a strange thing how a mood can change from one moment to the next.

JT popped his eyes open and, like many who have not quite slept well enough the night before, had no idea where he was. After a few moments, he remembered and gained his bearings. His body was a mixture of cold and sweaty, a very unnatural feeling to say the least.

His stomach ached from hunger again, but he could find no food anywhere. His lips were parched with thirst. He stretched his bum knee and knew he needed to get some medicine for relief; he had none with him. He did not want to become dependent on pain medicine, but sometimes he could not ignore the throbbing.

JT threw his head back on the couch and clasped the dirty sheets around him, thinking for a moment that it might have been a good idea to go back to Linda's with Michael. _Why am I acting like this? Betrayal, that's why_ —at least that is what he convinced himself.

He found some energy and flipped open his grandfather's journal, but only managed to scrape his thumbs across some of the pages, not really taking note of what any of them said. He tossed the old book to the couch's arm and dragged himself around the old mansion, looking for nothing in particular. It was a waste of time. He thought he would feel like he was doing something, but really, what did he think he was going to accomplish?

He wanted to talk to Billy. He did not know why, but the once—and possibly still—gruesome monster seemed like the only one he could talk to at that moment. He just didn't have the means to do that. Maybe it was because now JT felt comforted by the Essence. JT could have used some comfort. His cane didn't work for him and he felt dejected about that. And his old buddy George the horse was not around, either.

He opened up faucets around the house to see if he could squeeze any kind of water out of them, but he couldn't. He was definitely hungry and thirsty.

JT was beat.

For reasons he didn't understand, he wanted everything to just disappear. The problem with that was that everything didn't disappear. He remained alone in his grandfather's shell of a house. And he knew staying there and sulking would never achieve anything positive.

He swallowed hard. He had money in town; he needed to get clean and eat. He reached for his shoulder and felt the bandage there. He assumed Kali had put it on him when they returned from Bruinduer. He thought about her unmercifully. He missed her. He also missed Michael. He shook his head to try to empty the feeling.

_I don't believe I am doing this, but what choice do I have?_ he thought as he bundled up his grandfather's journal, placed it in his duffel bag and limped with his cane out the front door.

He meandered down the front steps, gazing at all of the signs of the adventure they had getting to Warhead Dale the couple of days before. The two large oak doors of the mansion had been blown to bits, the splinters of wood lying strung across the front lawn some fifty yards in all directions. Looking at the scene, it seemed impossible that anyone standing in front of the doors could have survived the blast.

As the day often does, it made everything appear different. Though clouds still hid the sun, the light revealed the true condition of the old house. Less than a decade had passed, but the worn wood had definitely taken a beating from the humid air. Without proper maintenance, salt from the ocean winds ate away at the paint and plaster, allowing termites to camp in its tender wood and thrive. The rotten wood and broken glass would only accelerate the old house's demise. If nothing was done to save it, Ol' Captain Luke's house would soon crumble from the inside to the out.

JT's cane clipped the rocks on the path through the tunnel of trees at the end of the drive. Small rocks flew up from the ebony shaft. JT wondered why they had been so tense the night they crept up to the old mansion. It certainly did not look forbidding to him now. In fact, the overcast day, the salty aroma, and the slight breeze made him feel comfortable. Even the odd chill breeze that blew through his shirtsleeves felt calming.

As he navigated the tunnel of trees, JT noticed something strange. When he and Michael had tried to catch up with Kali the day before, vines had wound themselves onto the iron gate, rendering the gate almost impossible to see. Now, to his pleasant surprise, the branches were completely cleared. He did not know why or how the coppice had been vanquished, but it had happened, and he was relieved. Initially, he had had no idea what to expect or how he would get out of the drive.

He stood in front of the cold hard iron. Though pleased that he did not have to make his way through a thick bunch of vines, twigs, and branches, he was less than pleased with climbing back over the gate. He quickly remembered that the cane was not only the key to the mahogany door, but also the key to the front gate. He slid the skull and cross bone handle into the lock and tried to turn it. He soon remembered that the groove on the back of the skull did not fit the lock on the gate quite well enough because, as he turned, the cane stopped, unable to budge the tumblers.

Disappointed, JT looked around. Through the bars, he could see that Michael's big old rusty blue car was gone. He knew that Michael probably had cleared the branches from the gate for him.

JT snickered, remembering the old car bouncing and grinding its way up the dirt service road at the Shorts' farm. Feelings crept back into JT's brain, whispering that he might miss Michael. He shook his head again in another attempt to empty it.

Even though Ol' Captain Luke's house stood quite a ways back from the iron gate, JT was surprised that he had not heard his slight friend crank up the loud machine the day before when he left. He felt sure that Michael had bounded over the gate with no problem, but JT knew, as before, that his knee would suffer if he climbed over.

He gently laid the skull and cross bone cane against the brick wall, then clutched the gate and bricks the best he could. He lifted his right leg, but, as soon as his weight transferred to his left knee, he tumbled back to the ground. Furious, JT felt his blood burn his skin. He clenched his teeth. He was still young. Why was he suffering when Michael had no problems hurdling this obstacle?

He snatched the cane off the bricks. He did not care if the lock broke or not. He slammed the skull and cross bone handle back into the keyhole and turned the shaft hard, even as it stiffened. He felt the handle bend as his knuckles turned white and the sting in his palms as he gripped even tighter. JT thought he heard a crack in the handle, but then it turned and the lock broke. The large iron gate opened with a loud clamor of squeaking and grinding.

The worn brass plaque with the words "Warhead Dale" across it swayed to and fro, whining in the crisp autumn wind.

JT was relieved.

He planned to head toward town and the bank, which he knew would be a long walk. He just hoped he could remember how to get there.

A small, light blue pickup truck pulled up to the curb just as JT decided which way he would start. The lady who stepped out of the truck had a medium build, a button for a nose, a mane of curly brown hair, and wore a checked waitress uniform about the same color as the truck. It was Linda Peterson.

# Chapter 4

Brandy and I made our way back to Warhead Dale. The wind carved the air, cutting through my jacket and slicing my arms into a heap of goosebumps, from one end to another. I huddled my arms and jacket closer to my skin. My young companion rubbed her arms. As we came to the wooden stair over the rocks to the house, I retrieved my shoes from the sand and hiked up the stairs with Brandy in tow.

"Go on back into the house," I urged the young lady. "James, my grandson, should be there. Please check the main room first. If he is not there, he will definitely be in the gift shop to the left outside the front of the house. There is a sign. I will be right behind you. I just need to check one thing first."

Brandy had been mostly quiet the entire time we spent together to that moment. Of course, she was still distraught over the news of her adoption, but she seemed to enjoy the story I told so far. I am not sure she liked the level of detail, but those elements need to be told. I could easily tell her what happened to Kali in a mouth full of short sentences in a few paragraphs, but I think I would do her a disservice if she did not know the circumstances that led to Kali's fate.

The pretty young lady with the ponytail and beautiful smile nodded at me, then glided along the boardwalk to Warhead Dale. As she opened the door and disappeared, I turned back toward the ocean.

I had seen this before, but only once. My heart punched my chest. It fluttered so fast that I clutched my chest as I lunged toward my knees. I had not thought I would ever experience this phenomenon again in my lifetime. The first time I saw it, I was told that I had helped cause it.

The ocean swells grew to almost six feet high and the water turned an ominous foamy white as the crest of the waves broke some fifty yards before the beach. The sky turned white; as white as a piece of paper tight against your eyes. I waited for two minutes, then the wall of clouds swallowed me.

As it had those many years ago, the rain started first. The thick drops thumped against the sleeve of my jacket and exploded. Wetness as cold as an icicle pricked my bare hands like a thousand tiny straight pins. If I had to guess, I'd say the downpour lasted thirty seconds.

I tilted my head upward during a slight pause after the shower turned off. The one flake fell, hitting my forehead right between my eyes. Then another fell and then more.

Snow was falling on the beach.

The flakes drifted as gently as down feathers. The last time I saw this, this peaceful snowfall had been the beauty before the beast rushed in. I scuttled down the wooden planks toward Warhead Dale as fast as my over eighty-year-old bones would take me. Then the sky unloaded.

Snow fell in what appeared to be pounds at a time. Then the wind started. The snow accumulated so quickly that it covered my feet in less than two minutes. I needed to get indoors fast. I cracked open the door and slipped inside, swatting the snow from my clothes before it could melt and soak me. I slammed the glass door behind me and turned to gaze through it at what nature's gift to us that very fine winter's day. The snow, in flakes at least the size of silver dollars, only fell for a few minutes. Then the wind began to howl, whipping up the snow until I could see only white. A blizzard had come to our little piece of paradise.

I found my young companion, Brandy, in the great hall of Warhead Dale. Tucked neatly into my black leather chair under a plaid throw rug, she clasped a cup of hot chocolate, balancing it delicately so it would not spill. My grandson James had clearly made her drink; he loves to pile marshmallows on so high that it's almost impossible not to drop those morsels on a nice shirt. He had also started a nice fire for us in the great hall's fireplace. I had told many wild tales to many kids in this very spot over the past four years, but today I remembered the day of old Northy Nick most of all.

I walked deeper into the magnificent antique room, inviting in every way imaginable. The heat melted the goose bumps riddling my arms and my chill literally vanished. The warm light of the fire drew me to hearth, while the smell of leather and Christmas tree pinewood vanquished any stressful thoughts gnawing at my soul.

Brandy glanced up from her cup of cocoa and said, "James asked me to tell you that he is making sure no one was trapped here, that all the staff can get home safely. He said there might be a few stragglers, but not a lot of people came today. He might be back later."

"Well, he has a way with people. I am sure he will make sure everything is hunkered down and everything is tight as a drum," I said with a slight smile. I knew we were secure in the old mansion by the sea.

I pushed another leather chair beside Brandy, then we sat and talked a little about her. The news she learned yesterday seemed the only cause of her current sadness. I hated that, considering she had mostly good things to say about her life and parents. I know trust is a fickle thing.

Then Brandy convinced me to keep telling Kali's story. Of course, with her sincere smile, how could I have said no?

* * * * *

Linda walked around the front of her little blue pickup truck and looked JT in the eyes. Her expression could only be described as polite, but, in a way, it also asked, _What in the world are you doing?_

She opened the passenger door and gestured for JT to get in. Her direct gaze and her palm patting the seat made it clear that she would not be leaving by herself.

JT nodded, his head hanging. He locked the gate behind him, got in the truck, closed the door, and watched Linda march around the front of the truck.

Linda plopped into the truck and the axle squeaked a little. The way she held the steering wheel with both hands reminded JT of Michael.

"JT," Linda said, her voice stern but comforting. "Michael was upset. I don't understand half of the stuff that he told me and I don't know why, but I believe him. I am having a hard time believing he has been gone for three years, but whatever your grandfather found in that desert seems to be very powerful. He told me about Kali and the adventure you guys had." She reached for her purse, which could easily be described as a satchel, and pulled out a newspaper, which she handed to JT. "I hope you know that it is different out here than in that world. Sometimes you just don't get what you want out here."

"Tell me about it," JT mumbled.

Linda pointed to the newspaper and JT followed her finger. Linda did not say anything else as she cranked the little blue pickup truck and pulled away from Warhead Dale.

JT read the headline, "Bidding on Davis Mansion set for November 6th."

JT skimmed the article. His breath became shallow and his heart raced; he had forgotten about the memo he, Kali, and Michael found outside of the gate a few days before. The memo had said that his grandfather's house would be condemned.

He recognized the name from the memo, J. B. J. and Sons, in the text of the article. To JT, it felt like a lifetime since he returned to Athens Eden, but he was relieved that he still had time before the city auctioned off the property. The auction, though not a long time away, was not tomorrow.

He could not have cared less about the rest of the article. He needed to find a way to stop the auction if he could. He took deep breaths. Something told him that this might be a good thing. Maybe part of him wanted him to let go of the old house and his childhood; he could forget about the events that had taken place. It might be simpler to go back to his quiet life on the Shorts' farm. Louise had said that he always had a home there.

Closer to town, heavy, anxious feelings overtook JT. People stared at him and Linda as the little blue pick-up pulled into Parker's diner. Though no one said anything that they could hear, people around JT were obviously uneasy. Thankfully, not all showed their disdain for him as he and Linda stepped into the diner.

"You must be hungry," Linda said as she threw her keys into a small wicker basket.

"Yes, ma'am," JT answered.

"No need to call me ma'am. I'll fix you something up to eat." Linda disappeared into the kitchen, while JT plopped onto a leather barstool and rested his cane between his knees.

He twisted the chrome stool back and forth—it is hard not to do that on stools like those—and sank his face into his hands.

Moments passed, then Linda came back with two plates of food and two glasses of soda. She placed one in front of him and one at the empty seat beside him. Just as JT wondered why, he felt a gentle, friendly tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw Michael smiling at him.

"Hey," Michael greeted him.

"Hey," JT replied. He gave Michael a quick glance, but looked away even quicker.

JT snatched his fork and began to eat. He did not want to look greedy, but the smell of the fried eggs, bacon, and toast made it impossible for him to resist. Warmth spread through his body as the food slid down his throat and the fizzy bubbles of the soda tickled his nose, flooding his thoughts with memories of the Shorts' farm. There was now a second place where soda tasted good to him.

Time stood still.

Michael and JT ate their food. The fuzziness JT felt in his head made him feel as though he looked directly through a tunnel. His thoughts were a jumbled mess. He had placed the newspaper Linda had given him between him and Michael. He glanced back and forth at it in hopes that the words might just disappear.

Some customers passed by, discussing the demolition of JT's grandfather's old home.

"About time."

"It sure will be nice to have that massive scar removed."

In the corner of his eye, JT noticed that Linda did her best to stick up for JT and Warhead Dale. He paid the patrons no mind, but his muscles tightened and his face turned red with irritation at the pointed, hateful words.

"I wish I could drive the bulldozer," said one man with a blue ball cap on.

"That's it!" Michael yelled. "Please! Mind your own damn business, you freaking idiot!"

The diner erupted in a loud gasp; the man in the blue ball cap looked taken aback. His eyes bulged and his throat made a noise as though he could not speak any words. He huffed, turned, and marched straight out of the diner.

The bright silver bell over the entrance jingled and JT spun his body around on the stool, his eyes fixed on the door. He had hoped that, like the last time he sat at the counter and heard the bell ring, Kali would saunter up behind him and he would smell her sweet skin.

"Please let me help you," Michael said.

JT was confused. His whole life seemed confused now—and daunted. Every time he thought he had finally figured it out, something else reared its head. He felt a lump in his throat that grew by the second. Choices. It was always about choices. _What should I do?_

The thoughts in his brain scrambled as they always did, like the eggs scrambled the pan in Linda's kitchen. If he told Michael that he didn't want his help, where would he go? Would he go back to the Shorts' farm to live out his days trying to forget what had happened to him in the last week? _Yeah, only last week._

What would happen to him if he accepted Michael's help? Would he find himself in the middle of a situation he couldn't get himself out of—say, in the middle of another desert with people, including Michael, trying to kill him—again? What other creatures, monsters, and people would he meet? Who would try to harm him? Was it worth the risk? What kind of help could Michael really offer him?

The questions struck his brain like a million bullets from a machine gun. His heart pounded. He twirled his fork helplessly between the fingers of his sweaty hands.

In an odd second, JT's surroundings compressed themselves into a foggy channel and the back of his neck tightened. He took a deep breath. Everything stood still, his thoughts and his emotions, even in the diner. In that total feeling of emptiness, the entire weight of the world lifted from his shoulders.

He did not know where the answer came from nor did he particularly care. At that moment, he only cared that he actually had an answer. Before he could let himself change his mind, he spoke. His voice started low and shaky, but ended a tad louder. "Yes."

"Yes, what?" Michael answered.

"Yes." JT paused. His voice came out stronger. "Yes, I want you to help me figure this all out. But, most importantly, I want to find Kali."

JT expected the pause that followed. He had made another huge decision. Things were definitely going to change. He did not know what would happen, but Athens Eden, Michael, and this new adventure would be a huge part of it.

Linda strolled over and wiped the counter.

"She left here the other day, right after you guys went back into that house." Linda stopped her cleaning and rested upon her arms on the counter. Her face showed concern. She knew that, at some point, she would be drawn into this crazy story. She wanted to be supportive, but she also knew that she might get in over her head, just like JT and her brother.

"She stood there." Linda took a deep breath and peered out the window facing the parking lot. "I was unlocking the diner for breakfast yesterday morning. She looked at me with such sad eyes as she climbed into her car. It was almost like she didn't want to get in her car and leave—she had empty, soulful eyes. I really wanted to go to her. I don't know why I didn't. I'm sorry."

JT sat still for bit, then took a drink of his soda. He knew Linda could not have prevented Kali from driving off. "Where did she go? Any idea?"

"Home, I suppose," Linda answered. "Back home to Maryland."

"Well, let's go. I want to go to her." JT's voice was panicked, eager, and hopeful. "I don't think I can start my story without her."

Michael took a deep breath. He knew exactly how JT felt. He had also wanted to find JT and get back to Bruinduer so much that he lost understanding of the big picture. Though Michael briefly wanted to bounce off the stool, take JT, and head to Maryland after Kali, he calmed himself down. "I want to go with you JT, but I think we need to take care of Warhead Dale first." Michael tapped his fingers on the newspaper headline.

JT glanced at the headline and went back to eating.

His insides were tied in a knot again. Just a moment before, he had been as calm as a river on a windless day, but now he couldn't think straight anymore.

"Well, I suggest we go and find the documents about your granddad's house. Remember how I said that he had all of his money and house in trust? He explicitly said that he could never let the house get in the wrong hands." Michael paused for a moment. "I don't know, but I have a suspicion that someone might be trying to take the house, someone who knows about the mahogany door."

JT focused on the present. He needed to be at his best if they were going to save his grandfather's house. Though he wanted to be with Kali, wishing would not do him any good. Maybe whatever action they took to save Warhead Dale would lead him back to Kali or maybe, just maybe, lead her back to him. Meanwhile, she was safe at home. He knew he could not cause her any pain at the moment.

"So where do we start?" JT asked, taking a deep breath and gulping down the rest of his soda.

Michael picked up the newspaper in front of them. "It says in the article that another trust is filing a lawsuit against your grandfather's estate. It's all pretty secret. What that means is that we are not really sure who actually formed the trust that filed the suit. In this state, it is perfectly legal to remain anonymous when transacting through this kind of entity. They made it that way to protect the names of people with very large personal fortunes, so other people won't keep bugging them for their money.

"But the name of the company that holds the trust may lead us to the people who are behind it. The newspaper here says that the company is called JBJ and Sons. I've never heard of them." Michael pointed to a picture of a thin, clean man. "See, here is a picture of the company's representative."

The man in the black and white photo looked like he was in his mid-forties. A tall man, his flowing brown hair had a hint of gray in the sideburns. He also had a cheesy smile strung across his face. JT decided the man was cut from the same cloth as the young banker who had once tried to take the farm away from Gregory Shorts.

JT missed the Shorts. He had lost his memory when he saw his mother die. Louise and Gregory, though older had taken him in and given him a home on their farm. Life in the fields was so much easier; he hadn't had to deal with real choices. He could not lie—on boring days, he had dreamed of leaving the farm, but now he missed the things he had taken for granted.

JT wanted to pick up the phone and call them, but he had no idea where to start explaining everything that had happened since he left, just a short time ago. Would they even believe him and the stories he could tell? Would they believe he saved a world behind a magic door from collapsing? That, if Bruinduer had collapsed, he would have ceased to exist? He didn't think so—even he had a hard time believing it.

"The First Bank of Athens Eden is the executor of your grandfather's estate. It figures that that's where all the money stuff is happening—so maybe that's the first place we need to start, I think." Michael smiled and pulled out a small piece of paper. "I've got somebody on the inside that hopefully will help us." Michael's face turned pink as he caressed the small slip of paper between his index finger and thumb. He disappeared into the back room to make the call, while JT sat outside chatting about nothing with Linda, though Linda spoke more than he.

Michael's inside person, named Jennifer Gracen, had moved to Athens Eden after a series of less than favorable events had occurred in her young life. A native of the northern part of the country, Jennifer, called Jenny, had been attracted to the golden beaches and cheaper universities of the south. She gave those reasons to most people she met, but, in truth, she had also wanted to get away from her hometown. She wanted a fresh start. A victim of bad choices and bad luck, she thought a new town would do her good.

An only child, an athlete, and a natural beauty, she had dealt unrealistic expectations from her parents. The young blonde had competed in beauty and scholastic pageants from third grade until her senior year in high school. A standout player on her high school volleyball team, she was selected as an all-state player in her senior year, and admitted to a prestigious university. College life didn't go quite as she wanted.

In her high school years, things like academics, popularity, and athletics had come easily to her, but not so in college. She found herself at the bottom of the pecking order on her team, among even more beautiful and talented young women than herself. Her difficult transition ended in failing grades and personal choices that she regretted.

She dropped out and went back to live with her parents, until their disappointment grew unbearable. Then she enrolled in a small university just outside of Athens Eden where she was happily anonymous. With no one else's expectations to hinder her, she excelled at everything in her daily life, to her own satisfaction. What she had learned from her mistakes allowed her to make choices she could be happy with now. She was blossoming into the young woman she thought she could be.

Jenny was content now, or at least as pleased as she let herself be. She had taken a job at the bank after graduation. It fulfilled her, though she did have the inkling to want and achieve more. But what she had now was hers—and she lived near the beach.

There is just something about the beach—walking on its soothing sands, feeling the water on your toes, trying to find that one special seashell—that heals the soul. Jenny felt the connection that a lot of people feel to the beach, especially Athens Eden.

"She said she'd help," Michael announced as he emerged from the back room of the diner. His face was red and his checks had to be aching from the smile that covered his face.

"Who said they'd help?" JT asked.

"Jenny. Do you remember her from the bank?"

JT thought for a moment, then remembered the blonde girl from the bank when he first arrived to Athens Eden. He distinctly remembered thinking that she had the most irritating voice he had ever heard, with a screech and pitch like someone crunching Styrofoam with their teeth.

"Hmmm." That was the best response JT could muster. He did not want to judge someone who wanted to help him with his problem. She could have easily had said no.

# Chapter 5

The fall faded. The trees turned bright red and yellow, then just as quickly evolved into tinted rust, hanging gently on their branches.

Linda graciously offered JT a job at the diner while he waited for Michael and Jenny to help him save his grandfather's estate from being sold at auction in about a month.

Every part of JT's life so far, at every turn, had become some sort of choice followed by some sort of fight. He had just made the choice to save his grandfather's house, now he had to fight for it, not long after he'd actually been in a raging battle, bloodied and fighting for his life. He needed to start deciding what battles were worth fighting.

The days passed uneventfully, which made a nice change for JT. The locals seemed to realize that JT and Michael weren't luring people to the old house and deliberately trying to kill them—or whatever other crazy things they thought. That was nice. It was also nice that Linda had the best diner around. With plenty of vacationers still in the area, many ate at the diner and seeing new faces was good for JT and Michael. Some of the older, hardened townsfolk still gave them dismissive looks, but, all in all, JT and Michael faded into the background of everyday life in the little coastal town.

JT thought the townsfolks' foolish feelings toward the two of them might rear their ugly heads when the auction of Warhead Dale began, but, for the time being, things were peaceful.

JT was almost adamant about not visiting the old house by the ocean. His last trip through his grandfather's mahogany door had left him uneasy about returning. He could not think of getting caught up in some other exploit, especially by accident.

The possibility of totally regaining his memory also frightened him. Would he be able to process a total recall of his life if it happened maybe by stumbling on some old relic or picture? He was risking that by going through his grandfather's journal, but going to the house as well might be more than he could take. He terrified himself by imagining the scenarios that might confront him in his restored memory.

JT looked at his grandfather's journal on his night table. He knew that he must have read it a million times before. As he read it, he felt the real threat of his memories flooding back into his brain, uncontrolled, but as he flipped through it, it felt like an old friend that kept him company under the buttery beams of the moon after a long day washing dishes and putting up food.

Propped against his pillow, wrapped in blankets on his bed in the back room of Linda's diner, JT cracked open the weathered diary.

JT found it funny to read the words "the Munch" in the tainted, worn pages, but the captain of the _Mary Maid_ did not share the sentiment. Ol' Captain Luke had not particularly cared for the nickname; in his own words, it was "absolutely crude and uncivilized." JT could almost hear the grit of his grandfather's teeth as the word slipped from his lips.

_It was hot, sticky, and just plain abysmal when I first got wind of the man we would hunt_. _We landed on the shore of the Gulf of Guinea in the heat and heart of July. Though my engineer devised a design to include air conditioning in the quarters of the ship, the daily duties of a ship's crew force us to endure the oppressive warmth of the season on the deck. Waiting for a scheduled courier to deliver our orders only made this task much more unbearable._

Only the Almighty could have created the land we find ourselves in, tough and riddled with beautiful overgrowth in colors I rarely see in northern parts of the world. Its beauty is incomparable. I find it hard to believe that bloody war, conflict, and a madman can reside in such scenery, but they do.

_When the courier arrived, he was a very young boy—approximately eleven years of age. I deduced that he'd been chosen for his young age. The information he gripped in his hand must be valuable enough for the sender to choose a young boy who would not read, much less comprehend the note he was tasked to deliver. The boy clearly had more interest in his compensation, for he bounced up the ramp of the_ Mary Maid _, oblivious to any danger in the the note he carried or any danger he might be in himself._

I must say that I was ignorant of the note's danger at the time, though I opened it as soon as my chaplain sent the boy off with a basket of fruit. When I read the first line of the dispatch, I fully became aware of the risk that lies before us.

Dear reader, I will not divulge the full contents of the letter, for I burned it most directly, as the author commanded at the end. I will, however, reveal the first line. I warn that it is graphic in nature, but I feel you must be advised of the nature of this journey if you are to continue to read. After the usual introduction, though I do not know the name of the man who sent the letter, the first line floored me and rattled me to my core, "The man you will hunt, known only and disgustingly as 'the Munch,' has been implicated in the brutal murder, burning, and displacement of no less than one hundred thousand souls.

I can only imagine what this monster may be like in the flesh. I also hope that my crew and I have the fortitude to see this task through to the end. I am also praying that the enemy we will face is human.

I only say that, because, if he is human, then he can die like one—and he will be killed like one.

I shall not write anymore today. I must think on this entire endeavor wholeheartedly.

JT shut the journal, but only for a second. He glanced out at the bright night. The moon's beams washed over him. He wondered if adventures like his grandfather's were happening in the world on that very night. The night, peaceful to him at that moment, might not have been so for others. Real danger existed in the world. He felt safe, but at that moment he was sure someone was meeting their end or embarking on some whirlwind task. _If only the moon could talk,_ JT thought. _I'm sure it could answer a lot of questions._

JT cracked his grandfather's journal open again, picking up where he left off. He read entries where his grandfather wrote out his thoughts about continuing to hunt down the Munch. His grandfather wrote that he learned that the villain of the story earned his nickname for what he did to villages and towns he encountered.

An English translator, not fully fluent in the local language, arrived at a small remote village, which the Munch had destroyed. The one small girl who survived the ordeal knew no word to describe the horror unleashed on this mostly peaceful village and its residents. Loosely transformed into English by the translator, the young witness, still shocked by what she had seen, described the evil man and his followers as monsters descending from the heavens like bulls, munching them like grass and spitting them out. The nickname stuck.

JT's grandfather, nervous and absolutely horrified at the idea of chasing such a man, knew that if he did nothing, no one and no thing could or would stop such a character. The British army had pulled out of the area some time before and was not interested in meddling in the affairs of the newly formed African republics, despite the pleas from the population for the British and Europeans to track the monster down.

In the end, Ol' Captain Luke threw out his concerns. He and his crew would pursue the evil incarnate only known as the Munch.

# Chapter 6

Brandy sat contentedly in my black leather chair in the great room of Warhead Dale. Relaxed, she listened and sipped hot chocolate, her complexion glowing in the light of the fire. I could see that her mind was fully engaged, not only in the story I was telling, but also in contemplating her adoption. I wanted to know what she was thinking, but did not ask. She came to hear a story from a long time ago because she connected with young JT. She understood him, liked him, and she also had a past, but no idea what it meant, if anything. Would she throw away the life she had with her adopted parents or would she be satisfied with the life she had?

The snow continued to float to the ground. The sudden cold outside fogged the windows and the panes gave off a distinct chill when I stood near the glass. I peered out over the ocean; it was odd seeing the snow pile up on the sloshing waves that washed the sandy beach. The snow on the sand, gathered and pushed by the waves, reminded me of the rim of thick icing around a birthday cake.

To my great relief, the bite of cold vanished in a flash when I rejoined my young companion by the warmth of the fire. My grandson decided to join us, as did a few stragglers who had been in the house when the snow began to fall.

* * * * *

An uneventful week went by, while JT waited patiently for Michael to say anything about the progress he and Jenny had made on finding out how they could stop the auction of Warhead Dale. JT had learned patience pretty well when he lived on the Shorts' farm, but, since he had come back to Athens Eden, he had a hard time finding his patience. Life at the Shorts' had been slow and deliberate.

Oddly, JT and Michael didn't talk much about their adventure through the mahogany door and into Bruinduer just a few weeks ago. As JT allowed the events to sink in, what they accomplished humbled him. He started, in a peculiar way, to have fleeting thoughts of reckless abandon, urging him to return to the Vryheid world. Maybe a fresh adventure with the right direction might turn out better than the first. An adventure on the swashbuckling high seas might just be what he needed.

Then he quickly remembered that the cane he still possessed was worthless; only the steward of the key could enter the world.

His thoughts always shifted back to Kali at that point.

He wanted to see her again. He could only remember a trace of the lavender scent when she flicked her hair. Burned in his brain, he saw her lying helpless and broken on the desert sands or locked in a kiss with him after the Bridge of Common was destroyed. Though those had been devastating moments, he would almost rather be surrounded by pain and misery in her arms than safe without her.

When JT shook off thoughts of Kali, he did do a few fun things with Michael, like watching some movies or having ice cream, but most days he worked at the diner and then snuck off to his bed to read more of Ol' Captain Luke's journal. JT had begun to feel somewhat normal with a normal routine. Then Jenny found the information they needed and his mood shifted.

The silver bell gave off its high-pitched jingle as Jenny stumbled into the diner with two large packing boxes, full to bursting with formal legal documents.

"Hey, JT." Jenny plopped onto one of the barstools.

JT slid over, leaving his washrag on the counter, and sat beside Jenny. Her ponytail, in a hair tie held together by a few strands of string, looked about to fall apart. JT knew she pulled her hair when reading, so he figured that had led to the tie's destruction as she read through the numerous documents in the boxes. Despite that, she had an odd smile on her face, as though the exhausting task of thumbing, prodding, and drilling through the mountain of documents was somehow worth it.

"So." Jenny let out a large breath. She grabbed JT's hand, more for her comfort than his. "I am so sorry that it took me a while to get back to you, JT. I really thought it would be worth just leaving you alone until I found something that could help save your grandfather's house. I should have gotten to you earlier, but time just flew by."

"It's okay, Jenny," JT answered. "I really appreciate you looking into everything for me." Uneasy, JT fiddled with his hands. His chest felt tight.

"Where's Michael?" Jenny's face dropped. She had hoped he would be there.

"I'm not so sure." JT paused, looking around. He hadn't realized Michael was gone. With his routine of work and reading his grandfather's journal, he often lost track of Michael and even what day it was.

"Oh. Okay." Her shoulders drooped. "He really helped me a lot, JT. You should have seen him looking through these old records. He really kept me organized, in his own way." Jenny turned pink and her mind wandered, remembering doing research with Michael.

"So what did you find?" JT asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. He thought he learned a lot by reading the journal, but now he felt he might find solid reasons to stay in Athens Eden, reasons to prevent Warhead Dale from being auctioned off.

"Oh, JT, there is so much to go over with you." Jenny slapped her hand on top of the box bloated with papers. Her voice sounded quite soothing at that moment. For the first time JT could remember, it did not grate on his nerves. "I found out some horrible news about twenty minutes ago, though."

"Really? What's that?" JT asked with careful curiosity. He tried not to think of it, but for some reason he felt something bad might have happened to Kali. He felt a lump sink down his throat.

Jenny's voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "I found out that Mary Catherine Taylor is sick and dying, JT. I'm so sorry. Michael told me she was a good friend of yours when you were younger."

JT did not say anything when the name slipped from Jenny's lips. An odd feeling washed over him and an amber haze engulfed his brain. The last times he had seen the mist, the yellow cloud had draped over the world outside of his body. This time, the haze covered his thoughts.

A young girl came into focus, running across what looked like a sports field. What sport, JT could not guess, but the girl jogged over to him and knelt by his side, holding a green water bottle with a white top. Her eyes squinted with concern for a second, then her gaze gave way, her eyes loosening and her face breaking into a caring smile. She lifted his head and squirted the cool liquid in his mouth.

"JT, you're going to be fine," the young lady assured him. He could smell a sweet flowery perfume mixed with the scents of fruit juice and sweat. It was soothing. JT could feel the fresh liquid slide down his throat. He winced as she caressed the back of his head. JT, though not in pain in the present, sensed that the scene that played in his memory was a time when he had been injured.

The haze swam in his head like a gentle breeze on a sun-drenched day. It felt good; he did not want the thought or emotion to end. He deduced that the young girl was Mary Catherine and he remembered her.

JT jumped from his chair, startling Jenny. "Where is she?" JT's voice came out loud and harsh. "She's dying? I have to go to her now!" The customers in the diner went silent.

Jenny jumped up and took JT's shoulders to calm him. "She's at the county hospice. It's on Terillion Ave. I'll take you if you want." Jenny nudged JT softly back onto his seat.

JT latched onto the memory of Mary Catherine comforting him on the field. His hands shook and he felt lightheaded. He could not and would not let go of this recall. He had a memory. Even though it wrenched his heart, he remembered something that took place, something that was good in his mind. It made him content and miserable at the same time. The back of his jaw clenched and poignant chills shot up his neck, making his hair prickle. A tear drizzled down his cheek.

"She's too good to die." JT couldn't cough up any more of an explanation.

Jenny explained to Linda what had happened with Mary Catherine and the woman hugged the blonde girl with her soft, plump arms. "Take him," she said, peering at JT with sad eyes.

Nothing was said during the twenty-minute trip to the hospice. JT sprang from the car, leaving Jenny in the driver's seat. Using his cane, he limped with purpose into the brick building.

As he entered into the front lobby, a shy, dark-haired girl sat at a desk listening to music with earphones; a sign-in notebook waited in front of her. As JT wondered why she had the earphones, but then he heard cries of sorrow, sadness, and grief coming from a nearby room.

JT realized that it must be hard for young people to work in a place full of death; the music might help.

JT signed his name in the book and left the young worker alone. She peered at him with worried eyes as he limped away. JT shambled down one solemn hallway, the tapping of his cane was the only sound.

He came to Mary Catherine's room and faced the door, his heart sinking. He took a deep breath and wondered if he was doing the right thing or not. He turned around to walk away, then remembered the night he stood in front of Warhead Dale staring at the double oak doors which held all of the secrets to his past.

Now another door in front of him led to a path to a time he had forgotten, a person who pierced his emotions and memories of lying on a sports field injured. He stopped and wheeled back to the closed door. Regret washed through his veins at the thought of not saying goodbye to a friend he actually could remember, a friend he knew meant a lot to him.

Very delicately, JT knocked. The decision was made.

A tired young man opened the door; JT could see he had not had much sleep. JT's throat caught and filled with phlegm. "Hi...my name is JT Davis. I knew Mary Catherine a long time ago, I believe. I played a sport and she helped me one time."

JT winced at the vague and boring words he was using with the man in front of him, slow, soft, and cumbersome words. But without hesitation, the young man knew he had come to say goodbye to his wife.

"Please come in. I know who you are." The young man waved for him to walk into the room.

JT thought about all of the people in town and concluded that, if the man knew who he was, he probably hated him like everyone else. Yet Mary Catherine's husband did not say a word. Obviously, he had only one thought on his mind; he could not care less about JT and his past mistakes. His mind focused securely on his dying wife.

"She was a good person. She had many friends and was an excellent mother and wife. It was a privilege to be her husband. Please sit; I'll leave the room and give you a little time with her. It probably won't be long now." He walked out of the door.

JT stood alone in the dark room that smelled sterile and lifeless. Only a hint of something besides a germicide wafted delicately in the air. JT could not say what it was, but he clung to it.

He could not believe how gracious Mary Catherine's husband had been. He thought very carefully that if he were married and a stranger came to say goodbye to his dying wife, he, too, would have a hard time turning them away. People touch each other's lives in so many different ways, no matter how small those ways seem at the time. When faced with mortality, the small things that seem insignificant shine as bright as any major milestone in life's journey.

The sight of Mary Catherine's wasted body lying in a hospice bed took JT aback. The room was empty. The end was near. No flowers or cards lined the walls; obviously the family had taken them home. No one else was in the room, but JT and Mary Catherine. It was heartbreaking to think that the only thing left to do was pray and wait.

As JT looked around that cold room, it hit him like a ton of bricks that one day he might be in a similar bed, waiting a similar turn at death. Even sadder, in JT's mind, was the idea that the long-suffering young woman before him had been full of life and hope for the future a short time ago. Cancer, it is said, is a brutal disease.

JT sat on a small stool and touched Mary Catherine's hand. It did not tremble. Her hair was gone and her broken body motionless.

A tear slipped from JT's eye. The memory of Mary Catherine was electric. He could remember Mary Catherine's shoulder length blonde hair and yellow shirt as he buried his head into her sleeve in pain. He could smell a sweet perfume and feel her earring tickle the side of his cheek. He could taste the wetness of his tears and snot as they flooded her sleeve like a rag. He could feel her arms wrap tight around his neck.

JT squeezed Mary Catherine's hand as she lay immobile. He thought he felt her fingers tighten in response, but thought it was probably wishful thinking.

"Goodbye, Mary Catherine," JT muttered with effort. "Thank you for showing me compassion when I was hurt. I only hope that we had other times together. Maybe happier times. I pray that you find comfort, too."

JT stood up and walked to the door. He turned one last time and nodded. He met Mary Catherine's husband in the hall and embraced him. "Take care," JT said. "You are a lucky man."

"Thank you. Yes, I am," Mary Catherine's husband answered.

JT walked out of the hospice and climbed back into the car with Jenny. Though the last moments he had spent with Mary Catherine were brief, they were profound.

Jenny did not say a word as JT wiped his face. "I have to go see Kali now." JT whispered the command. "She could be dead tomorrow."

"Okay," Jenny replied. She drove them back to Linda's diner.

The next morning, a call came into the diner, letting them know that Mary Catherine had passed into her next life.

JT's face dropped. The diner was silent.

# Chapter 7

Brandy still listened to the story, as quiet as she could be. As the other people in the big old house by the sea gathered closer to me, Brandy seemed a bit isolated, so I made sure that I guided her closer to me.

The snow still made a beautiful, blinding white wall that brightened the great hall as it accumulated on the ground by the minute and made half moons on the window sills.

"If you have not been faced with the death of someone you love, you will be. That is just the way of the world. I have been told that death is a gift, though I am anxious to see what it will be like to think in eternity about what I have done here. I can only hope that what little impact I have had on this big dirt ball was not in vain. Witnessing a life taken so young only reminded me that the end would come, no matter how hard we try to fight it."

The patrons looked at me with solemn eyes and I could not blame them. People don't talk about death in everyday conversation. I don't blame them, I rarely speak of the matter myself, and so I continued with the story.

* * * * *

JT felt an emptiness inside. The sensation is very hard to describe and I apologize, but it felt like the air being let out of a balloon; something wonderful, something that can make a person happy, suddenly empties. JT's head felt hollow and he became angry and confused. His hands shook uncontrollably as he looked from side to side, trying to think of something to do. What could he do? Going to Kali seemed like the only thing that would make the panic go away.

"I have to get to Kali, now!" JT yelled, splitting the silence of the diner.

The patrons' previous disdain for JT turned to pity. In the small town of Athens Eden, especially before its growth spurt, many people in the diner knew Mary Catherine and her family. A number of them probably knew about the day JT lay on the ground in pain during a sporting event.

Jenny tugged on JT's arm, guiding him to the back room and his bed. The large box of papers Jenny had accumulated during her research on the history and financial stability of Warhead Dale was also on the bed. As JT sat down, a few pages slipped from the box and onto the floor.

JT placed his head into his hands, unable to hold back tears. He wrenched his eyes and forced his head back. His throat tightened until he wanted to yell out, but he kept it in.

"JT, I know this is hard. I have lost people I loved, too, but we can't rush off in fear right now. I know you need and want to see Kali. I really want to see someone, too, but the auction of Warhead Dale is only a couple of weeks away. We need to figure out how we are going to save it." Jenny's eyes were sincere and placed her hand on the young man's shoulder. "I think we need to concentrate on that and then you can go to Kali."

"But what if I don't make it through tonight?" JT asked, his voice ragged from the crying. "Then it will be too late for me to tell Kali what I feel for her. I need to see her now."

Jenny fumbled for the right words. "I realize that, JT, and I can't tell you what to do. I just don't want you to regret not saving your grandfather's house while you're trying to find someone who might not want to see you." Jenny spoke cautiously at what she said, but she tried to be realistic. JT could call her on the phone, but would she even take the call? Jenny whispered gently, "I mean, she did leave."

JT slumped his shoulders and wiped his eyes. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Jenny was probably right. Kali had left them in the basement of Warhead Dale after Bruinduer. He felt he might have been acting childish and irrational, but his emotions were almost more than he could take. He curled up on the bed next to the box of papers and closed his eyes. Jenny realized he wanted to be alone when he turned his body away from her.

Jenny left the room. After a while, JT maneuvered the box of files to the floor. He stared at the empty, white ceiling. He knew that he needed to act, but the numbness of his body made him stay put.

He rolled over and peered at Ol' Captain Luke's Journal. He reached for it, placing his fingers on the aged leather bounding. He paused, thinking of the memories that could possibly flood his mind. He just didn't know if he could handle it.

Maybe reading the journal had opened his mind to the memory of Mary Catherine, but if he was still suppressing memories that powerful, with no idea what they could be, he was reluctant to open his brain to any more. Why let remembrance enter, if tragedy after tragedy would batter his mind and overpower him? Since he had come back to Athens Eden, it seemed to JT that only bad things had happened or were going to happen. He had already witnessed two deaths and lost Kali. Life was so much easier on the Shorts' farm.

He spider-walked his fingers over the leather journal and snatched it to his chest. Two deep breaths and he opened the old book:

February 2, 1946,

It seems odd to discuss the heat of February, though it is summer in the southern hemisphere when it is winter in the north. Sailors must take heed in this fact, because crossing the equator can mean the difference between wearing shorts one day, then bundling into three pounds of clothes the next. In short, a sailor must be prepared. I am lucky to have such a steady and resourceful crew.

Today we launched a reconnaissance mission to a small village northwest of our position to gather more information on this evil of a man known as the Munch. My goodness, how I hate that name. However I must report the facts, no matter how difficult it is to swallow. You cannot change what already is.

Through hearsay, I have gathered that people in this village may have a personal connection with this unbridled evil. I am sure it is possible that this man may have family. And, according to rumor, the village remains unharmed by this villain, perhaps for that single reason.

_My weapons officer, Mr. Luke Lampe, has informed me of his concern about transporting the necessary weaponry, if by chance we were to engage the Munch. The thick underbrush of the jungle may limit what we can bring to battle. I am worried also. We have no idea what to expect. I pray we can get answers from the village when our scouts return_.

JT read on. The journal chronicled an astounding adventure. When the reconnaissance team did return to the ship a few weeks later, they reported that the Munch did indeed have family living in the village. To Ol' Captain Luke's surprise, not only close family members, but also more distant relatives lived in the village; the villain's own mother resided there. After numerous attempts to make contact with the woman who gave birth to the Munch, they learned that she would only speak with the highest-ranking member of any group with questions. Ol' Captain Luke set off right away to the remote village of Solama.

February 24, 1946

I met with Trina, as the villagers called her. I did not learn her last name, because of the true terror they feel toward her son. The villagers treated her more like a god than a human and, all things being equal, her domicile was quite luxurious. I would have to say many more times luxurious than any other abode I saw nearby. Servants met her every need and she could make certain gestures, so that the servants knew exactly what she required. For example, when she flicked one finger into the air, a young manservant would feed her large chunks of fruit by hand; when she flicked two fingers, a young lady handed her a glass of some sort of juice to wash it down.

I will not mislead my reader; some sort of fear did creep into my veins. For all that I knew, word would get back to that vile villain, the Munch, that I was hunting him. This could have easily been a trap.

On the contrary, Trina divulged much information in response to every question I asked. She seemed very confident that her son would not to be captured. She practically told me that nothing I or any other foreigner attempts to do will succeed; her son would be victorious in any endeavor. On a map, she even identified the river he and his band of soldiers traveled along to make their raids on innocent villages. Again, I was taken aback and felt the tickle of fear. Such confidence comes from a proven track record of success; in other words, I concluded that her son was plain ruthless to his enemies.

I desparately wanted to express to my host that, if she merely choked on one of the large grapes she emptied into her mouth, it all would come crashing down around her.

Yet Trina was quite delightful in a sort of ridiculous manner. The mantle of power her son placed upon her was quite obvious in her air of superiority.

JT read on, learning of the provisions and plans to travel the Orange River and its branches. Lists and lists of equipment followed in the sailor's journal, with sketches and drawings lining the margins. The drawings, very detailed and in many ways artistic, made it obvious that Ol'Captain Luke would be prepared, no matter what the expense. His unnamed employer had assured him that cost was no object in the apprehension of this madman.

JT placed the journal back on its table and fell asleep. More questions haunted him. He knew that he wanted to be with Kali, but he also knew that he needed to stop the auction of his grandfather's house first. And maybe Kali did not feel for him the way he had hoped.

Only time would tell.

Jenny returned to Linda's diner to help JT go through the paperwork, but Michael kept his distance from JT. JT did not know why, but he did not push Michael. He was still apprehensive about trusting his old friend completely. Michael had wanted him dead in Bruinduer; that thought still burdened him.

"It took quite a while to get all of these papers and documents," Jenny said. "Michael helped tremendously. A mountain of documents."

Whenever Jenny talked to JT, she always, in some way, mentioned that Michael helped her get the information they needed.

"We read and read, staying up at all hours of the night and day." Somehow Jenny's voice did not annoy JT as it had when he first met her in the bank. Maybe he had gotten used to it. "And, after all of that, there is really only one particular piece of information we need to stop all of this, which is always how these things end, right?"

Jenny took a deep breath and pulled a red folder from the bottom of the box. She had intentionally put the file under the rest of the papers so she knew she would not misplace it or, more importantly, its contents. Hundreds of papers flowed down her arms like water pouring as she pulled the sleeve from its hiding place. Clearly the other documents really didn't mean that much to their problem.

"JT, Michael and I went through all of these documents, looking for something to stop this auction from taking place. Michael felt that none of this should be happening in the first place and that your grandfather had put all of the necessary legal remedies in place; he had a plan to hold off anything like what's going to take place." Jenny opened the folder. "I'm not going to bother you with all of the trouble Michael and I went through to get this report. It's amazing and just thinking about what we researched makes me want to puke."

Jenny glanced at JT, hoping that she had convinced him that Michael really wanted to help. Michael had told her repeatedly that he had been wrong in Bruinduer and he wanted JT to trust him again.

JT nodded, acknowledging what she was telling him, but focusing on whatever Jenny said next.

"In actuality," Jenny began. "There was a loophole so that, if the house was abandoned for eight years, the city of Athens Eden could claim the land. In fact, that is a city law designed so that no property will just sit there and rot, making land around it lose its value." Jenny paused and took a breath. "We figured that your grandfather didn't care about the law because he figured the family would never abandon Warhead Dale."

JT felt ashamed. "But didn't Michael say that he had set up all of this money to pay for anything that might happen?" He was almost begging for any kind of good news.

"Yes, JT, but there has to be an executer or trustee to use the accounts. Nothing had been signed or changed since your father became the last trustee. Nothing was passed to you, so after eight years and numerous attempts to locate any family, the city had no choice but to lay claim."

"I'm here now," JT said. "Can't I just go and get it turned over? Can I still claim the land?"

"Yes," Jenny answered with a smile, pulling a piece of paper from the file she held delicately in her fingers. "According to the town laws on property claims, the town must give reasonable notice and make a good faith attempt to find anyone who has an interest in the land. By precedent, the city usually only waits a year and a half to seize property, but, in the case of your grandfather's house, they waited almost a full seven years before they made the claim. It seems that Judge Oliver Decarte had a soft spot for your granddad; apparently, they were very good friends. This log shows that, each time the city filed to seize Warhead Dale, Judge Decarte would wait until five minutes before the end of business that day for a family member or someone besides the city to make a claim."

Jenny handed JT the paper. "Check the final two columns on the page. Do you see Judge Decarte's handwritten note of the time and then his signature? If you look hard enough, his signature is very clean and deliberate. I think that he took the entire five minutes to sign the document, so the city had no time left to make their claim. Each time, Judge Decarte slammed the gavel before the city could make the claim and they never had enough time to file their paperwork for that day of business. "

JT scanned the document, his heart racing. He felt his hand get a little clammy and could smell the cardboard residue from the piece of paper. Now he had hope that he could save Warhead Dale.

"And what helped save the property for so long was that, once the hearing was over, the city could not make another claim on the property for a whole year. This went on for seven years until Judge Decarte retired." Jenny took a deep breath. "The judge that replaced Judge Decarte is a younger guy named Judge Malcolm Porter. He signed the document within the first hour of the first hearing after Judge Decarte retired. The city did not hesitate to seize the property."

JT scanned the document to the end and saw Judge Porter's quick, messy signature, nothing like Judge Decarte's. JT's bubble burst. He had no idea what to do.

He stared at Jenny. "Now what?"

# Chapter 8

Brandy, though still quietly listening, might have felt a tad disappointed. She asked what happened to Kali, but I was spouting off about JT, Michael, and Jenny. I hope she remembered that, when I told the story four years earlier, the backstory was pretty important. Today, I just wanted the moment Kali re-entered the story to make sense.

And she had a lot on her mind. All the same, Brandy sipped on her bottomless cup of hot chocolate, provided by my grandson James, and humoring an old man telling a story. James had brought hot chocolate for everyone hanging around to hear my tale. The snow still fell, which was odd, but, as when I told the story of the mahogany door, strange things would happen.

I worried about Brandy. I hoped the story pleased her; I couldn't tell.

* * * * *

"We need to go see Judge Porter," Jenny explained. "He can overturn the decision with new evidence in the case." Jenny slipped another sheet of paper from her folder. "You see, under the law, any decision can be appealed. The problem with this case is that there has never been a chance for appeal. In certain circumstances—special circumstances—the judge can actually overturn the decision from the bench." Jenny put her hand on JT's shoulder. JT felt a tingle shoot through him, but more of comfort than anything else, though Jenny's demeanor and personality had begun to grow on him. "We just might have a shot with this. Once Judge Porter hears your story of losing your memory and practically being lost on a farm, I am hopeful—no, almost certain—he will overturn the decision. Then we can save Warhead Dale. That has to qualify as a special circumstance. We just have to get the decision overturned before any sale is made during the auction." Jenny exhaled, very pleased with what she had accomplished.

"I have also learned that there is one particular man very interested in bidding on the property. Rumor has it that a lot of strange closed door meetings have been happening between this man and the bank. Good thing I work there. I only get bits and pieces, but, from the buzz around the office, this guy seriously wants Warhead Dale."

JT felt odd. This twist had snuck up on him like a cat on a mouse. The opportunity to save his grandfather's house came quicker than he realized. What would he do if he saved the house? Would it be worth keeping it? From what he knew, the mahogany door didn't work anymore anyway. He had tried it. Maybe he could sneak into the house in the next few days and remove the door from the house. Then whoever wanted the house could just take it. He had saved Bruinduer and his grandfather, not to mention himself, from destruction. Wasn't that enough? He had done what was asked of him. Yet JT had a feeling in the back of his mind, tugging at him like a lost child.

He wanted more.

He wanted to save the house and go back to Bruinduer. It can give him anything he wanted. It crossed his mind that what happened with Michael wouldn't happen again. He'd be more careful and follow the rules more closely. He would do it right. Michael just couldn't control the power of Bruinduer and Billy. Billy was more on JT's side than on Michael's anyway. It would be easy for him to control. Michael had told him that numerous times in the first place.

Plus, he had begun to feel affection for the big house by the sea. Maybe he could fix it up and ask Louise and Gregory to come live there. That way Gregory would not have to farm anymore. Life could be grand and painless.

"So when do we go see this Judge Porter?" JT asked, a newfound excitement in his voice.

Jenny's eyes lit up. She was animated at JT's words. "Well, he is not in court today. He is only in court on Tuesdays and Thursdays. We'll have to get there really early tomorrow."

JT was concerned about Michael. He had only seen him briefly in the last few days, but they did not talk much as they cleaned up the diner. JT, addicted to reading his grandfather's journal, went to his room very quickly after work, barely even saying anything to Linda.

JT knew Michael was spending a lot of time with Jenny, gathering documents to help save his grandfather's house. JT could see that his friend liked Jenny. After the dinner rush and cleaning, Michael shot out of the diner as quickly as possible, only managing a quick goodbye to his sister.

JT had wanted to tag along a few nights. When he mentioned wanting to find out what they were doing, but Michael had insisted that he stay behind. JT, grateful for what Michael and Jenny were doing for him, didn't push the issue. He wished he could help by remembering more.

"Never turn help down from people who are willing," Gregory always told him, while he labored away at chores on the farm. JT had always hated the fact that his knee was not as limber as a normal person's. He would try to accomplish tasks that he probably never should have tried, such as lifting hay bales. JT would struggle with the bales as he stacked them in the horse barn's loft. Just about the time he got frustrated by trying to stack the highest bales of hay, Gregory would arrive with a helpful strong hand or a day laborer hired for the harvest would take on the extra load. JT always felt worthless after this happened, but neither Gregory nor the young men minded in the least in helping him out. "Turning down help only compounds the problem and never presents a solution. Plus, the job gets done quicker with help."

"I just want to say thanks, Jenny. I don't know how any of this would have happened if not for you and Michael. I know I might not show it that well, but I really do appreciate the help." JT smiled. He wished he had reasons to smile more; secretly, Linda did, too.

Jenny blushed, her blonde hair appearing more electric and her spirits lightened as a rush of energy shot through her veins. "You are so very welcome, JT. I am just glad I could help." She stood up and walked toward the door. She paused, grabbed the jamb, and swung around, her eyes big. "Tomorrow, early in the morning. We want to be the first ones there, okay?"

"Yes, most definitely," JT answered.

Jenny left and JT settled in to read. The night wavered and JT held tightly to his grandfather's journal. The book, though obviously weathered, still held the strong smell of leather and traces of oil. JT could almost taste the adventure that brushed its pages.

JT read on, as his grandfather and his crew tracked the man known as the Munch up and across the Orange River in southern Africa. One particular entry rattled his nerves as he read it.

March 13

Today I find it hard to take pen to paper. I am utterly disturbed by what my crew and I experienced today. Firsthand, we saw what this madman we hunt can do to humanity. I can scarcely describe the small community we came upon. It looked like a rotten, hollowed-out hole, comparable to a decomposed, gutted Jack-o-lantern after Halloween. It seemed like the area around the township imploded on it. A dark, burnt central cavern looked like a bomb had exploded. It smoldered under what I could only describe as the heat of hell, stretching its black tentacles to the edge of the jungle.

The smell, my friend, was so putrid that I had to place a handkerchief over my mouth and nose to keep my gag reflex at bay. I could not save our chaplain from expelling every morsel of breakfast he had ingested that morning onto the shoes of my weapons officer, who was unfazed by it. The price of a new pair of shoes could never seem meaningful in the face of what we witnessed.

I only pray that, if there is a God in Heaven, he will see fit to wipe out this thing and see he commits no more atrocities. If God has seen fit to use me to do this work, I can only say that I take the mission upon myself with the most joyful effort. It moves my heart to think that I shall witness the end of the Munch personally.

JT awoke with a shock. Right before his eyes sprang open, he felt a breath of air from the dense jungle his grandfather chopped his way through, searching for the Munch.

The dark, thick air wrapped his body in a fragrance rich in bark and mud, beautiful and frightening at the same time. He heard Billy's unmistakable deep laugh.

The dream was as real as any of the dreams where he had spoken to his grandfather. In that instance, he felt that Ol' Captain Luke still existed, but he could not forget that Michael and Charlie had both agreed that his visions might be Billy, reaching out to manipulate his thoughts and fears by transforming himself into the likeness of the old seafarer.

JT, who had argued that his grandfather had been the real visitor in his dreams, was ashamed to admit that he sometimes wondered if it had been Billy. Could it all be happening again? Could Billy be trying to reach him in this quick burst of a dream? He did not mind the intrusion this time. He knew Billy's true, noble intentions. This time, because of that last moment of dream contact, JT felt something was wrong. But what?

JT's anxiety grew as he placed his feet on the floor beside his bed. He dug his toes in the rug on the cold, tile floor. The new life he had started in Athens Eden was molding itself into something much different than his life on the Shorts' farm. He felt Gregory and Louise were always there to protect him from danger, but, now, that shelter was not there.

Focused on the possibility of saving Warhead Dale, he got dressed in his gray t-shirt and jeans and waited for Jenny. He sat on the edge of the bed with his hands on his thighs, not really knowing what would happen or even how to act. An overpowering doubt rang through his head: what if the judgment of the court went against him? What would happen with the mahogany door? Would the old mansion really be destroyed? Would it be okay if he lost the case and spent the rest of his life in the back of Linda's diner or back at the farm? Would it all be safe? Would this mysterious potential buyer Jenny mentioned have something more sinister in mind if he or she got control of the house?

He looked at the ebony cane with the skull and crossbone handle. The rich ruby eyes glowed in the eye sockets. Though he possessed the cane, Kali had the power to unleash it and open the mahogany door. It was still, however, his walking stick.

He stood up, grabbed the cane and limped to the front of the diner. The smell of coffee and the sound of forks clanking against plates immediately filled his senses.

He sat on a counter stool and Linda slid breakfast to him, a nice heap of eggs, bacon, and grits.

The silver bell of the diner rang out, its chime cutting through the clatter and smells to tickle JT's ear. He turned to the door and Jenny walked in, professionally dressed in a navy blue suit and a white blouse with a broad collar, and carrying a briefcase. JT fidgeted on his stool; he felt a tad bit undressed. Only Michael was missing and he was nowhere to be seen.

Jenny plopped down beside JT and flung her briefcase onto the counter. "So, you ready for the big day?"

The mood in the dinner suddenly turned quite odd. The patrons glanced up at the pair sitting at the counter. Some mumbled incoherently under their breath. The people of Athens Eden knew that a hearing on Warhead Dale would be held that day.

JT could feel the eyes. He had hoped that citizens of Athens Eden had finally let go of their grudge against him, but now he realized they had just been waiting for something—anything—to happen. Now they could express their displeasure about the long ago "incident" with Charlie again. His hope dashed, he felt sure they did not want him to win the judgment.

Jenny recognized the scene. "It's okay. The whole town knows about what's going on. Word has traveled fast—a little too fast—but try not to worry about it. We aren't doing this for them. We are doing this for your grandfather."

"Where's Michael?" JT asked. It felt weird not seeing him all of the time. In fact, he was still concerned about not seeing him much in the last couple of days. In a way, he liked being alone to think and read, but he missed Michael at the diner. He thought Michael would have at least gone with him to the hearing as a show of support.

"Um," Jenny started. "He's afraid. He made me promise I wouldn't tell you this, but I think you might need to know. He's afraid you don't want to see him anymore. You have been leaving work and going back in the back room to bury your nose in that journal. Michael thinks you are still angry at him."

JT paused. He was still mad at Michael, but he knew he had to move on from that feeling. He just did not know how. He had always had a hard time dealing with his emotions. Now, he wanted to understand Michael's motives in the Vryheid world, but he needed time to sort things out. He did miss Michael being around, though.

"I'm still working through what happened in Bruinduer." JT looked down. "I guess I'm also not used to being someone's friend. I got so used to being by myself on the farm that I really don't know how to act around other people. I guess I've been really bad at that, huh?"

"I'm sure Michael understands, deep down inside. It just took him so long to find you that I think he might be scared he's going to lose you again. He might just believe that if you think even a little less of him, you will leave." Jenny started toward the door. "Well, I hate to cut this short, but we need to get to Judge Porter as soon as possible."

"Right." JT grabbed his cane and limped out of Linda's diner behind Jenny. As he passed through the patrons sitting and eating their food, a silence fell over the room. The only sounds were the tap of JT's cane and the ring of the silver bell hanging from the door.

* * * * *

Athens Eden is a unique town with a lot of history—new and old. I'm not sure if you remember from my first story about JT and the mahogany door, but there was a lot of construction in and around the city during this time. People from miles and even states away find themselves magnetically attracted to the charm of this seaside town. Brand new houses and buildings sprouted from the ground like dandelions in the summer time. One after the other—somehow it never seemed to stop. Yet the town still held its jewels from the past, centuries old buildings and homes, frozen in time. The courthouse in downtown Athens Eden was one of the town's treasures from years past.

The red brick building featured a cream façade with tapering columns that appeared to extend deep into the pediment of sculpted clouds covered with angels and demons. The lady justice sat front and center with her eyes covered, just as blind as ever.

As JT and Jenny walked up the fifty or sixty marble stairs, their breath came in gasps, as if to remind them that, though justice will be served, it is labor. JT tapped his way to the top and, as he opened the large oak doors, the smell of old wood, polished with years of oils, scented and otherwise, hit him. He flashed back to the old doors of Warhead Dale, eerily similar.

Though the building screamed of the past, the new had taken over the ancient. Metal detectors and high tech gadgets lined the slate floors, ready to prevent people from carrying weapons into the halls of justice, making it clear that today's world was much different than the past.

Jenny and JT made their way through the myriad of security checkpoints. After having their bags and box of papers rifled through, they made their way to Judge Porter's Courtroom. The floors squeaked with each step along a peculiar damp hallway that compressed the sound to silence. JT felt a tingle down his neck. One thought bounced through his head. _This place is haunted_.

The door to the courtroom squeaked relentlessly. A screeching echo broke the silence and preceded them into the massive courtroom.

Jenny and JT stood silent, shaking and staring as though they had done something wrong. That may be a cliché, but clichés live for a reason.

Judge Porter's large chair pivoted slowly. Jenny drew in a startled breath, which made JT jump. His cane slipped from his fingers and crashed to the floor, bouncing. In the clatter and echoes, even the judge covered his ears with the tips of his index fingers. JT felt a sweat break out; he could smell his deodorant. He did not know why the thought popped up, but he concluded that was what fear smelled like.

An awkward pause hung in the air. The judge shrugged and uncovered his ears. "Welcome."

Judge Malcolm Porter was a young man to hold such a high office. JT thought he might have been in his late forties, but with a youthful vigor about him. He was serious, but his job had not aged him as, for example, their terms in the White House aged presidents. Though JT had no idea how long Judge Porter had been a judge, the man looked very comfortable in the chair, not intimidated by his own position or people in his presence at all.

"I do not want to guess why you are in my court this morning, but I think I can conclude that you are the Davis boy, here about your grandfather's house." The judge's voice cut through the echo in the courtroom.

"Yes?" JT said, uncertain of how he should answer. He felt like he did when he faced Billy in a dream the first time. If he said what he really thought, he had no idea what the consequence would be. "I'm JT." He paused, then swallowed. "Davis."

"Please come in and sit." Judge Porter's voice rumbled through the courtroom. Though the figure sitting high behind the bench in a black robe and tie appeared intimidating to the two young people seeking justice, JT knew the judge was just as human as he was, with normal human shortcomings.

JT straightened his shoulders and glanced at Jenny, who walked confidently and lightly to the front of the courtroom. Still, he could see that she nervously nibbled her lip now and again.

The judge spoke while they walked, his words mixed with the sound of JT's cane tapping the floor. "I know your story, Mr. Davis, though I have not met your companion. Ms. Lind, I believe?" Judge Porter reached for a piece of paper at one corner of his bench and drew it toward him as he placed a pair of reading glasses on his nose.

Before the judge could utter a word, Jenny tried to speak. "We are here to protest an order given last year to sell—" Jenny did not get her entire sentence out, for Judge Porter interrupted her.

"Excuse me, Ms. Lind, but that is not how the court works here in our lovely city. You will answer only if I ask you a question or give you permission to speak."

"But that's not ri—" Jenny sputtered.

"Ms. Lind!" Judge Porter's voice was forceful. "You will speak when I ask you a question or give you permission to say anything!"

Jenny shut her mouth. She and JT arrived at the front of the room. Jenny pulled out the red folder and held it in front of her, trying to appear prepared for whatever the judge said. JT knew better. He had a feeling they were prepared for nothing, that things would be dramatically different than he had hoped. He stayed silent.

"Sit," Judge Porter ordered.

JT and Jenny peered at each other. JT could not help smiling sarcastically. Jenny rolled her eyes and sighed. They turned and sat at a spruce pew that ran across the front of the courtroom.

Time stood still as the minute hand passed twelve, making it nine o'clock. JT fidgeted with the handle of his cane, thinking about its power to open a doorway to another world. He had a small epiphany about why the Vryheid might have created a world that allowed them to control their destiny; he certainly did not want to be in that courtroom at the moment with his fate in the hands of a judge he did not know.

Jenny, in her attempt to argue for him, tried to speak once again. She straightened her back and started. "Excu—" Judge Porter grabbed the edge of his bench with both hands and burned holes in her head with his eyes. "Sorry." She slouched back into the pew.

JT snickered, shaking his head. He knew he was at the mercy of someone else—or, at least, the future of Warhead Dale was. He felt that he could stand up, walk out, get in a car, and drive without anyone stopping him. Then it would be over, at least for him.

The courtroom door burst open. The noise reverberated through the entire courthouse as the metal on the back of the door slammed into the wall. JT and Jenny jumped, but Judge Porter did not flinch. Someone looking closely might have noticed that his forearms tightened a little.

The group of people that entered the room had to be seen to be fully appreciated.

Two large bald men wearing black three-piece suits stormed into the room ahead of the others. They glanced around, left and right, scanning the area for any danger. One talked into his wrist, then, in a flash, the rest of the party filed in. Three women in professional suits preceded a man wearing a light purple outfit with a white hat. His complexion was dark and, despite his colorful clothes, his demeanor was dark, too. A powerful cologne filled the courtroom, a musky odor that immediately reminded JT of Bruinduer. He would never forget the lavender fragrance of the Godwin side of the Vryheid world.

Billy often disguised himself in the outside world. _But it can't be him,_ JT decided. Why would Billy try to seize JT's grandfather's house?

Another man, in a dark blue suit and shiny patent leather saddle shoes, followed him into the courtroom, carrying a briefcase.

JT thought the man looked familiar, but could not place the face. Patent leather shoes man waited for the gentleman in the purple suit to sit a few rows behind JT and Jenny, then he stepped up to the judge's bench. Judge Porter apparently reading an absorbing piece of paper, had never even lifted his head to watch the crowd pour in.

JT felt like a peewee football team about to take the field against a professional one.

"Mr. Gillingham, I presume." Judge Porter's voice rang through the courtroom. It did not crack, but obviously he had taken care to speak forcefully.

"Yes, Your Honor. My client would like to file his 681 report at the onset of the court's business this morning." The man spoke in a brisk monotone.

"Whoa!" Jenny jumped up. "We were here first." The annoying, popping voice JT remembered from the bank turned almost vicious.

All eyes shifted to Jenny.

"Hmmmm. Yes..." Judge Porter's statement faded to a whisper.

A silent pause filled the room after the short outburst. The hum of the air conditioning unit was the only sound bouncing off the walls.

Judge Porter cleared his throat.

"Yes. I know why you are here." Judge Porter pointed his nose at Jenny, looking down on her as he sifted through a small pile of papers. He pulled another sheet out. He glanced at it only for a second; the words flowed from his mouth like second nature. "After seven and a half years, I believe the law has been satisfied. Sufficient time has passed and all means of contacting any person with a rightful claim to the land have been exhausted. Therefore your application for an appeal, including an injunction on the auction of Warhead Dale, is hereby denied."

JT's head dropped. Jenny's eyes watered. "But the law states that—" Her voice was panicked and begging.

"I know what the law states, Ms. Lind. I am very perturbed at the fact that you and Mr. Davis decide to show up two days before the auction is due to take place after an absence of years." Judge Porter's veins popped out on his neck; his skin turned scarlet. The volume of his voice increased with every passing syllable. "Now! If you do not mind, Mr. Gillingham and his client need to file a motion to become a bidder for the property in question."

Judge Porter took a deep breath. His mood became much calmer as he turned to Jenny's opponent. "Mr. Gillingham, it will be a time to rejoice when that place is torn down and a nice resort put in its place. It has been an eyesore for far too long, continuously reminding this community of the horrors that have taken place there."

The small monologue was surreal to JT. He had heard comments come from the citizens of Athens Eden, but the community's venom struck him more forcefully now. He never would have believed that his grandfather's house—or, basically, his family—would have been maligned in such an official manner. The next words that fell from Judge Porter's mouth almost made JT throw up. "Those memories must die."

What really happened in Warhead Dale flashed through JT's brain. He wanted to tell the judge that what the townspeople thought happened did not really happen and certainly not at the time they believed it had. But his explanation would have been semantics anyway; Charlie was still dead and there was no denying it. Once again, JT saw the angry, displaced, depressed young man plunge into the ravine in Bruinduer. JT could not possibly explain everything to the judge. He would never believe it anyway.

Jenny tried in vain to get her point across to the judge, but he would have none of it.

"Ms. Lind, you will sit down and be quiet! In fact, you two should leave my courtroom. You have no more business here," Judge Porter snapped his index finger toward the courtroom door. Jenny huffed, but JT stood and turned to walk down the aisle.

As he turned, he caught the eyes of the man in the purple suit and white hat. The man looked out from beneath the rim of his cap and beamed at JT. The smile expanded across his cheeks, showing blindingly white and rather large teeth. JT tried to remember where he had seen the man before. His eyes still on the man, he took one step. The courtroom door blew open again.

A collective sigh rumbled through the room and echoed over the wood. The members of the court froze. In walked Michael, pushing a very old man in a wheelchair.

"Now you hold it right there, Porter!" The gray-haired man in the wheelchair ordered at the top of his voice, while he waved his right hand in the air, his muscles shaking from weakness.

Michael and the man hustled down the aisle, paying no attention to the others who occupied the courtroom. The man in the purple suit's smile turned to a glower; his eyes bulged from his skull.

"This is very unorthodox, Your Honor," Mr. Gillingham stated anxiously. "I have no idea what kind of courtroom—"

The lawyer with the patent leather saddle shoes did not get the last word out of his mouth. Judge Porter raised his arm, pointing at Mr. Gillingham. "Stop, not another word!"

The presiding judge's demeanor changed instantly, simply because the man in the wheelchair had entered the courtroom. His abrasive qualities faded and his voice turned almost to a whisper. "Judge Decarte, what a pleasant surprise. What is it that I can help you with?"

"Malcolm, dear Malcolm," Judge Oliver Decarte began.

# Chapter 9

When I first told the story of the mahogany door to a group of kids some four years ago, it was hard to keep pace with them. With so many young children, many interruptions took place. It would be nice to tell a long story to a group of children without them fidgeting and squirming about, but that doesn't happen in the real world. In the real world, children will make outbursts at inappropriate times.

With Brandy, my grandson, and a few others in the great hall by a roaring fire with snow floating to the ground and a bite in the air, we had no problematic eruption from anxious children. I remembered that Brandy had been one of the attentive listeners back then, just as she was now.

* * * * *

Judge Oliver Decarte served as an elected judge in Athens Eden for almost forty years. It might be hard to imagine how someone could stand sitting and listening to case after case, problem after problem for such a long time, but Judge Decarte loved the law.

He had loved to argue since he was six years old, successfully arguing against some of his mother's "nonsensical" house rules. Whenever a decree was imposed, he would set up a small courtroom in the family room and have a trial. He never won any of the arguments—his mother insisted that she was right—but he had the flair to take on anyone who would hear him out.

Now, in the silent courtroom, the man in the purple suit and white hat had taken a pair of leather gloves from his pocket. He began to wringing them in his hands. The squeak of leather rubbing against leather could just barely be heard over the hum of the air conditioner. Clearly, the man did not take too kindly to this turn of events.

"Malcolm," Judge Decarte began. "You are not going to sidestep the letter of the law in this particular instance are you?"

Silence echoed from the bench and the rest of the room.

"I am sure that I taught you better than that." Judge Decarte sighed. His disappointment in his former apprentice was obvious. Judge Porter's face turned red, as red as a child's might after a scolding from a parent. "It is my understanding that the law in question at this hearing clearly states that any person or group of persons with a stake in the property must be granted due process up to the time of the auction that has been called." Judge Decarte glanced at his watch. "Since today seems to be Thursday, and the auction is not until Saturday, there are still two days until said auction."

Jenny chuckled, but, when Judge Decarte stared in her direction, her face quickly turned serious. The old judge, though turning the tides in her favor, would not tolerate disrespect.

"It is common knowledge, I would say, that JT Davis here is the grandson of the owner of the property that the city has been so forthright to seize and auction, that owner being Captain Luke Xavier Davis—this is true, is it not?"

Judge Porter said not a word, but nodded in Judge Decarte's direction.

"Therefore he has a stake in this property. Is that correct?"

Judge Porter nodded again.

"Then I assume that this young man, despite any outside influence—" Judge Decarte glanced back at the man in the purple suit, who grimaced and wrung his gloves so tightly that his knuckles turned white. One of the women tried to console him, but he yanked his hand away. "As I say, this young man deserves a fair hearing under the law. Is that also correct?"

Judge Porter looked up from his paper. The pause was palpable. Though the judge's face was red as a beet, he had no choice but to agree with the old man in the wheelchair. Judge Porter then peered at Jenny, squinting. For an unknown reason, she felt that was her cue to approach the bench.

"Your Honor, I—I mean, we, Your Honor, formerly request an injunction on the auction to take place at 209 Fairway Street in Athens Eden on this Saturday, the twelfth of November." Jenny took a deep breath and smiled, because she knew the only course Judge Porter could take.

"Granted." Judge Porter slammed his gavel.

Jenny jumped up and clapped her hands, laughing in a high pitch that echoed about the courtroom.

"Your Honor, this is not—" Mr. Gillingham began, but Judge Porter interrupted.

"I know what I said earlier, Mr. Gillingham, but as a human being and a judge in this court, I can make a mistake and correct it. The injunction stands."

"This is an outrage!" Mr. Gillingham protested.

The entourage of the man in the purple suit erupted into jeers, all aimed at the judge.

JT sat and watched Michael, who rolled the old judge out of the courtroom. Michael nodded and JT nodded back. Jenny ran over to hug Judge Decarte, to his surprised delight. Then she grabbed Michael and kissed him on the cheek. He blushed. Jenny then ran up to JT and hugged him He hugged her back.

"Thank you," JT whispered. "Now I have no idea what to do next."

Jenny smiled. She felt like she had accomplished something. "I guess you have a home now anyway."

The courtroom seemed filled with people, all arguing with and jeering at Judge Porter. A number of bailiffs entered to diffuse the small riot.

JT grabbed Jenny and they left the courtroom. As they left the man in the purple suit reached out of the mêlée to snatch JT's arm. "This is far from over, Pilgrim," he growled.

A flash of light hit JT's brain. The word "Pilgrim" bounced and echoed in his ears with a familiar, deep, dark tone. He fell to his knees. "This is far from over," the man in the purple suit repeated. "We know what happened in that house all those years ago."

JT looked at the man curiously.

"That's right. Don't think I don't know about Charlie. Don't think I don't know about Kwaida, either." The man's serious expression gave way to a sinister smile and his grip tightened. The cologne he wore ripped through JT's nostrils, mixing with other smells from people making their way through the courtroom door. "Or as you like to call him, Billy."

Speechless and frightened, JT felt his muscles tighten with the same sense of dread he felt when Willy visited him in the horse barn some weeks before. Even though it felt like a lifetime ago, he recalled the feeling that raced through his body.

"Whaa?" JT tried to pull himself together and summoned a whispered groan. "Billy? Is it you? It can't be you."

The man in the purple suit smiled impossibly wide, then he bellowed out a low, rumbling laugh that echoed through JT's mind. The man's grip lessened.

Jenny shoved the man away, and he relented. She tugged on JT's arm, pulling him to his feet. They stumbled and, fighting their way through the gathering crowd, made their way out of the courthouse and into the morning light.

JT and Jenny stopped at the top of the old marble staircase in front of the courthouse. They felt relief, but the thought of having to follow through on the injunction and do something with the house overwhelmed their brains. But if they just left the old house upon the shore in its perpetual state of rot, the city would have no choice but to condemn it. After that, JT would have no recourse.

The sun peeked out of the midmorning sky and the small town bustled in earnest. People hurried by the courthouse steps in their suits and skirts, hardly noticing JT and Jenny.

"Over there." Jenny pointed to where Michael waited, grasping the handles of Judge Decarte's wheelchair.

"Hey, Michael!" Jenny yelped and ran down the steps to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. Even as slowly as JT limped his way to the group, he could see Michael's face turn pink. His horn-rimmed glasses sat crooked on his nose. He sighed and smiled as he put his arm around Jenny's waist and breathed in her perfume appreciatively.

"Hey, there. I'm still here!" Judge Decarte rolled away from the couple.

Michael let go of Jenny. His heart skipped a beat as he took the handles of the old judge's wheelchair.

"JT, wasn't Michael wonderful?" Jenny's voice came out high and squealing.

"Yeah," JT replied.

"Ah-hem." Judge Decarte cleared his throat.

"And, of course, thank you, Judge Decarte." Jenny bent down and kissed the old man on top of his head. The judge smiled.

"I'm just glad I could help," Michael said. "That's what I really want to do—and can do. I can help." Michael looked at JT.

"Thanks, Michael. I really appreciate it. I guess I just can't express it right." JT began to feel the bond he had with Michael when they started this adventure. He could not place it, but it felt as though he should protect him, just like friends do. A weight lifted from JT's shoulders, but something in the back of his mind pecked at him. This was not the end of the road; there was definitely more to come. His memories might still return to him.

The small group stood together in silent solidarity and watched the people of Athens Eden pass.

Jenny left for the bank. She had taken a few days off in the run-up to the court date. She returned to work with a sense of accomplishment. The experience had lit a fire under her; she decided to pursue her dream of becoming a lawyer.

She had rebelled at any notion of moving ahead in society, like going to law school. But she enjoyed fighting for Warhead Dale, fighting for a just cause without any added pressure from her parents. It had been something she wanted to do, not what someone else wanted her to do—and she had felt an exhilarating rush of excitement as she stood before Judge Porter.

Michael drove JT out to Warhead Dale. With the injunction and keys in hand, it seemed the right thing to do. It would also give him a chance to explore the house during the day. Being alone in the house might just release the memories locked away in his mind. He gripped the cane's ivory handle and patted his grandfather's old journal. He wanted to find out more information about anything and everything he could.

The story he read in Ol' Captain Luke's handwriting wrenched his insides and compelled him to continue reading. It was not only his grandfather's tale, but, in a sense, his own. He had seen the old man in dreams, almost speaking in riddles. Yet in the journal, he stated his thoughts clearly on the page. He also felt a burning desire to discover what had become of the evil man his grandfather chased through the jungles of Africa.

The big, rusty blue car with fins shooting off the back and tattered white canvas top pulled up to 209 Fairway Street and skidded to a stop with a loud bang.

"I'll tell Linda you are not going to work the rest of the day and tomorrow. I'll take over your shift at the diner. I feel bad that I really haven't been around much the last couple of days. I think being out here by yourself will do you some good. I know it's been hard." Michael placed his hand on JT's shoulder. JT felt their bond grow stronger. This time, maybe it was not his friend, but he, who needed the protection.

"Thanks, Michael. I just hope we did the right thing." JT was conflicted. In a way, he wanted to return to Warhead Dale, but, then again, winning the right to keep his grandfather's big old beach house meant that now he had responsibility for its care.

"We did, JT—I promise. You'll see." Michael smiled.

JT climbed out and the big blue car chugged away, small backfires echoing through the street as it vanished out of sight.

Fall had taken root, with a chilly bite in the air. It had gotten cooler in the almost two and half months since JT was last at Warhead Dale. He hadn't been able to handle the thought of returning while the house's fate was uncertain. He would have hated to get attached, then have it snatched away from him. Of course, it was too late for that. The old house had found its way into his heart.

JT took in a deep breath. The saltiness of the cold air filed his lungs; freshness cut its way to his soul. Limping, he opened the intimidating old iron gate, which sprang open as if to welcome him.

As he limped down the curved driveway under the tunnel of trees, he remembered walking the dark path with Michael and Kali. It had been frightening then, with so many questions bouncing between his ears.

Though he could not deny that he still had many questions, he was not quite as scared. The sun shined brightly in the midday sky and, though his knee throbbed, he felt a little lighter in his step. He felt hopeful for the future. Of course, he had no way of knowing what would happen later that night.

# Chapter 10

JT enjoyed the walk, but as he came to the still door-less entrance to Warhead Dale, the magnitude of the task in front of him hit. He remembered that the house was in disrepair, but seeing the decaying structure, he could not even imagine where to start any type of renovation and repair.

With only the work ethic Gregory and Louise had instilled in him at the farm, he entered the house, determined to take ownership.

The house was eerie, to say the least. The smell of dried out oak and cedar planks smacked JT's nostrils. The hair on his skin prickled and his heart fluttered. He knew that Billy had exploded the front door when he first came to Warhead Dale. As he tiptoed through the long corridors to the great room of the house, he peeked in each room, somehow and somewhat wanting to find Billy sitting in a large orange and white chair. His ears pricked for the sound of a deep, burly laugh penetrating the house's walls, he heard only the squeaking of the floors and tapping of his cane.

JT smiled. Though a daunting task lay ahead of him, he felt alive again.

Should he go down to the basement? He looked at his cane. It would be a waste of time. The cane would not work: Kali was the steward.

He thought about Kali. He could smell the flowery perfume that danced in her hair and he could feel the softness of her lips against his. He remembered lying next to her warm body in the desert after the Bridge of Common exploded. That moment felt like a memory of long ago, though it had only been a couple of months. He missed her so.

_The aura of this big old house is getting to me, seeping into my soul_ , he thought.

He distracted himself, listening for the sound of breaking waves, which he could just hear through the rotting walls. In some odd way, a sensation of coming home washed over him.

He thought he would try to restore power to the house first. Power would be welcome. He scurried around the great hall, then remembered lying with Kali on the large green couch. He sat down, running his hand across the cushion beside him. He placed his cane and journal down in the empty space and rose to his feet.

The pain shot through his body like a lightning bolt. He had felt the striking ache in his knee for so long that it was familiar, though frustrating. He would never be rid of the soreness he earned while watching his mother die, so he proudly walked as well as he could. With each few steps he grunted and struggled, but it was no bother. No one was there to hear him.

He smiled, remembering how he turned young again outside the mahogany door. The pain had vanished. With that thought, the pull of the basement became relentless. He knew Bruinduer could give him that relief; he didn't have to feel the pain anymore. He shook it off, trying to remain focused on restoring the power.

Kali and Michael weighed on his mind as he limped around the house. With no idea where to start, so he thought he might as well go to the basement. It made sense that everything that controlled a house might be in the basement. The power box was in the basement at the Shorts' farm, why not Warhead Dale?

He only knew one way to the basement; he needed to go down a narrow corridor then take the elevator. Since JT's memory was not the best, it took just a minute, but he remembered the hallway he and Kali had stumbled upon and the tiny room at the end of it. As he flipped the little wooden covering off the elevator button, he placed his thumb on it and thought of Kali. He knew her thumb had been on the very same button. He wondered what she was doing at that very moment. Did she ever think of him?

The door slammed shut and the tiny room toiled its way to the lower room. The ride was dark and claustrophobic, but, when the door flew open at the bottom, light rushed in. From where, he did not know, but it was comforting to be able to see and nice to know he didn't have to find light. He peered at the wall in front of him. The mahogany door waited behind it, just a few feet away. He touched the wall of the inner room, now sealed. Disturbed dust covered the floor around him; three sets of footprints were still visible leaving the inner room to the elevator.

"Billy?" JT mumbled. His voice cracked in his dry throat. He wanted anything to make sense at that moment. He waited for a reply, straining his ears for an answer from the wall, but to no avail.

He turned and walked down the hall, noticing something he hadn't seen before. The floors in the basement did not match the floors in the main house. Maybe they were just built that way, but the floorboards beneath his feet seemed much larger and thicker, much more like planks than floorboards. It was odd when he thought about it, but he shrugged and went on, deeper into the basement. JT felt as though he were entering a different part of the house. The hallway seemed somewhat narrower.

He rounded a few corners and searched a few storage rooms filled with junk, papers, and boxes. Then he noticed an odd metal door; the sign on it read, "Danger—High Voltage."

"Bingo!" JT crowed. "That's gotta be it!" He knew he would probably have to call the power company to come and fix something, but at least now he could tell the workers where to go.

He opened the door, the metal hinges whining as it pivoted open.

JT's eyes were wide. In the dank, dark room, water leaked from somewhere and pinged on hollow metal pipes. Just like he had in the little room off the stage in Michael's castle in Bruinduer, he instinctively felt for a light switch on the wall by the door. He found one, but then, there was no power. The switch flipped up and down futilely.

The room smelled of wet wood, metal paint, mold, and a sweet salty smell that could only be found near the ocean. It is hard to describe, but it could be compared to the smell of a rusted bathtub filled with sea water.

JT's eyes adjusted to the dark and he continued to search along the wall. He felt a metal box. Looking very closely in the small flood of light coming from the hallway, he made out the words, "IN CASE OF EMERGENCY." Finding the clamps, he opened the box and discovered a flashlight.

_Doubt it works_ , JT thought as he slid the switch, which was slightly corroded. A light burst in the room.

Bugs and other creatures scattered as the light hit the very large generator in the room.

"My grandfather was definitely prepared," JT said the words aloud, thinking about the journal and his grandfather's search for the evil Munch.

With some coaxing and ingenuity, JT was able to start the generator. Power hummed through the house. He had no idea if that was safe, but JT was happy that energy flowed through the walls and switches.

The lights in the generator room flickered and crackled until they came on fully.

_Power on_ , JT thought. Fumes from the diesel generator filled the room as exhaust leaked from the pipes. JT coughed and gagged. The powerful odor curled the hairs in his nose.

Just when he thought he couldn't take it, the engine warmed up, running more efficiently. The clanking and clanging turned to a more modest hum, the smell lightened as the exhaust shaft drew some of the fumes away. The generator was obviously high quality craftsmanship, though the house needed a new ventilation system, new wiring, and maintenance on the generator. At least there was electricity.

JT left the generator room and took the rusty elevator back up to the main part of the house. He passed through the hallway into the great hall and found a thermostat attached to the wall. The clean, brisk air of the fall had turned quite chilly, so he pushed the switch to heat.

A rumble came through the walls and JT scanned the room in case the house blew up, but luckily air began to blow from the undamaged vents. JT noted a burning odor, like a pot cooked dry on a stove, but only for a moment as the air pushed through. The almost instantaneous warmth of oil heat relaxed him.

His knee hurting, JT limped back into the great hall and plopped onto the big green couch. He almost could not believe that he was back, sitting in his grandfather's house. He had been almost certain that he would lose it in the courtroom that morning.

The idea that the house belonged to him started to sink in. Many thoughts rambled through his brain. The Shorts' were always there. He thought about calling Gregory to ask his opinion on the matter, but decided not to. He stared at his grandfather's faded portrait above the fireplace, the painted eyes blazing right through him. JT couldn't decide what the small smirk beneath his white beard was saying to him. Was it "Way to go, JT, you've done it. You've succeeded." or did the devious smile say, "Way to go, JT, you've done it. You are on the path to ultimate failure."

JT looked around the house at all the work he needed to do. He knew he had to get started, but as, he contemplated his grandfather's expression, his eyes turned to the old sailor's journal.

"The work can wait." JT picked up the old leather book and started where he had left off.

April

Today's date is not important. In actuality, I could not tell you the date if I wanted to. The days seem to run together as we hunt this animal. I will not call this thing a man. A man, a true human, could not perform such acts of brutality.

Some of the men have asked if what we will do if what we are tracking is not human at all. I would wonder as well, but the fact remains that its mother is human. I will accept that fact, otherwise I will just be getting into an argument with myself that I cannot win. No, I believe this monster I hunt is a man; if not, I will make sure he bleeds like one.

The many scorched dolls and trinkets, no doubt belonging to murdered children, left behind in these hollowed out villages, make my blood to boil. It is shameful that war infests this beautiful land, but this brutal killer loose in its jungles only adds to its woe.

In all honesty, I am trying to keep my emotions in check. I must be at my keenest if I am to succeed in hunting my prey. I dispatched a scout to track down the young man who brought the note to me. I am not sure of why, but I had a feeling that the young man might know something, either about who I was tracking or about my mysterious employer. Either way, as the Munch leaves a trail of broken and deluged villages in his wake, it is only a matter of time before I reach him. Moreover, soon there will be no more communities to plunder or citizens to kill.

JT couldn't imagine what his grandfather was thinking, though the words on the page were clear. If the old sailor caught up with the Munch there would be a definite battle. JT continued reading.

April

It's still April, I think. The jungle is starting to become a sauna. The sun is getting hotter and the humidity thicker. I will continue to track this madman no matter what the weather and no matter if I have to go to the four corners of the world. The prize will be mine.

Our dispatchers returned with the young boy who delivered the note. His name is Tichoke and he was sworn to secrecy, promising not to reveal where or from whom he got the letter. I was not about to torture the young man for the information, but the situation was dire. If this young boy did know any information about this Munch or about my employer, then it would be unforgiveable for me not to abandon that information. Is it right for one to suffer in order to save thousands? Millions?

I tried to persuade the boy to reveal any information about my prey, but in vain. As soon as he left, I deployed two of my most trusted crewmen to follow him to look for anything that may lead us to the Munch.

# Chapter 11

Brandy still sat easily, content with the story, though the others stranded in the big old house were getting anxious to go out and play in the fresh blanket of snow.

Snow is a funny thing, I believe. It is so beautiful, but so dangerous. It paints nature with a beautiful stroke of white, but yet its freezing temperature can kill you in a matter of hours. Plants die beneath its weight and cold; food is scarce, if available at all. Yet every time the white powder falls, it smites people with its beauty. They cannot wait to prance around in it. Even in these modern times, people forget that they can be doomed with one power outage.

That day I was a storyteller and no one's guardian; some of the people left. Some went out and pranced about in the snow. I was lucky that Brandy, my young friend, listened contently to my tale.

*****

JT's eyes felt heavy. He started a fire in the old fireplace and the resinous smell of smoke tickled his nose. The autumn sun in its passage across the sky rode just above the horizon. He passed the day reading his grandfather's journal. When twilight came, the empty house revealed its warmth. JT found an old lamp and plugged it in. Despite the slight—and no doubt somewhat dangerous—electric shock that tingled through the tips of his fingers, the artificial light filled the room.

JT stared at his grandfather's portrait in the wavering firelight. Just like before, the old man came alive. The flames, licking the outside walls, made his gray hair flow and his smirky smile dance. _If only the old man were here_ , JT thought, flipping through pages of the journal to the month of June. JT pulled up his knees, resting the book on his thighs, and once again focused on the pages.

June 3

I cannot recall how I know it is June 3. I believe Mr. Lampe told me in passing this morning, but I cannot know for sure. My feet have labored the last couple of weeks, walking in the jungles. I have not taken any joy in my steps since we have come upon so many destroyed villages.

Our only hope to end this engagement has come from the return of our two able-bodied crewmen. After following the young messenger to his origin, they gave a most interesting report.

Dear reader, I am able to reveal what our two scouts have discovered. I am not one to mince words and I am sure that, up to this point, you have considered me to be somewhat cryptic in my telling of this adventure. There, you would be unfortunately correct. It is not by choice that I cannot delve into much detail. It has just been the nature of this voyage. I would be most excited and happy if someone could tell me what I may expect or uncover to me what it is I am pursuing. What I have found out, and what has been so true in every life, however clichéd, is that things aren't quite what they seem. The young messenger, I have been told, is the monster's own son.

The wind outside the house began to bawl. JT looked up from the journal. He was used to the sound of the dark. On the farm, the peace of the night could be deafening.

The silence by the edge of the water, however, was cold. He could feel the bite in the wind that snuck through the cracks of the aging roof and walls.

The little lamp beside him flickered and, though he knew the night, this one felt different than the others. Fear slunk into his mind and his body; he shivered with a quick jolt. He could feel his pulse speed up and his breath become shallow.

JT tried to shake the fear from his psyche. He felt a lump build in his throat. He ran his fingers through the pages of the journal. The anxiety that rushed him, made him feel as though he was up against a clock to finish the book. His chest pounded. His eyes became unfocused. The cool air from the wind howling through the room painfully dried the insides of his nostrils. He breathed through his mouth, hoping to relieve the sting of the cold flooding his lungs.

He tried to calm himself, but he had to know how his grandfather's adventure ended. He had to know what happened to his grandfather and his men. Why could he not remember?

The house shook.

"What in the world?" JT asked out loud.

He had felt that shake before.

He tried to focus on the pages, but the shaking became so intense that the pages only looked like a large blur.

"Say it." The words danced through the house and off the walls.

JT smiled for a second. He did not think that he would ever see the Essence of Bruinduer again. A page slipped out of the journal beside him. He picked it up and, on the back, he saw the dark poem Kali had written on the night they first came back to Warhead Dale. Seeing her handwriting filled his thoughts with the young girl with auburn hair and beautiful sapphire eyes.

"Say it." JT heard again.

He tore his eyes from the piece of paper, because the words he heard had an unfamiliar tone; they sounded hollow, intense, ripping into his ears.

Billy had relayed the words forcefully the first time, but in his mind at the time, JT had heard them as sincere. These tones, this empty muttering of the same words, however, did not feel honest, but sarcastic. Someone or something was mocking Billy.

JT slammed the journal to the couch and leapt to his feet. The sky turned black. The old rotten shutters slammed against the exterior wall as the foundation of the house shook more violently. He snatched his cane tight into his hands and raised it in the air. He did not know why he did it, but the cane did not respond. Its red ruby eyes lay dormant in the ivory skull and crossbones. The lights of the house flickered twice and went out. The logs in the fireplace rolled about, extinguishing the fire. An eerie creaking sound echoed through the walls and the floor felt unstable beneath JT's legs.

A tremendous roar came from outside and above the house. It growled and shifted in the night sky, puncturing it like a bullet. Higher than the initial bellow, a screeching laugh fluttered and cut through. More laughs followed, not quite as loud, but of an even higher tone. The chorus of cackles turned evil.

JT's mind scrambled. He whipped his head back and forth, trying to gain his balance. He had no idea what was happening or what was causing it. He wanted to believe with all of his heart that it was not Billy. It couldn't be him, right? He remembered Billy's lumbering laughs, but they were never malevolent in character. JT always thought there was a sincere seriousness behind the essence's chuckles, no matter how sarcastic they might have seemed in the moment.

JT stumbled to the suddenly clouded glass, wiped it, and peered out into the late afternoon twilight. Rolling, ominous clouds gathered in the distance on the crisp clean day. The orange rays from the setting sun disappeared behind the collecting storm. Lightning flickered in the distance, flashing through the clouds. Something menacing came towards Warhead Dale.

JT shuffled around the room, his mind blank. The air grew colder with every passing second; he could see small plumes of mist with each breath. He could not think of anything to do. He had no control—a feeling he could never get used to.

JT froze, petrified by whatever the outcome might be. He simply could not move. His knee cramped. He suddenly felt like a trapped animal, helpless and scared.

A tremendous jolt shifted the house and the ceiling cracked. One of the topmost logs on the dead fire tipped out of the fireplace and rolled across the floor, beneath a chair. An ember lit the slipcover on fire. The heat rushed and filled the room.

"No! No!" JT screamed. "What in the world?"

The ceiling blew open.

JT fell to the floor and covered his head. Millions of pieces of roof covered him. The instantaneous rush of air extinguished the fire. Then there was silence.

JT peeked out from under his arms. Slowly, he picked his head up and looked directly above him. "You have got to be kidding me."

He shrugged his shoulders and stared at the opening and the night sky beyond it. This couldn't have been Billy. Billy might blow the front door off its hinges, he would not deliberately do that kind of damage to the structure of the house. At least, JT thought so, but who could tell what the Essence would do and who could control it anyway.

The air turned to ice. Goosebumps sprouted on JT's skin. His joints tightened. He took another breath and a stream of steam rose from his lips. He could smell his dry, stale mouth. He checked to make sure his grandfather's journal was not hurt. It sat undisturbed on the end table by the couch.

He thought about Mary Catherine. He did not know why, but he did know that even this seemingly terrifying event paled in comparison to the pain she must have felt dying from a dreadful disease.

Something soft and cold hit his hand. A few seconds later, it vanished and a drop of water ran down his forearm, hitting the dusty floor with a small splatter.

A very short time later more soft coldness landed on his arms, head, and neck. The cold substance slid under his shirt and his body jerked; he wiped at his skin. Underneath the hole in the roof, the floor turned white.

The snow floated downward quietly, peacefully, majestically. JT had rarely seen snow land at the Shorts' farm, though it had fallen on the fields. He remembered watching it fall and paint the ground so freshly white that he never wanted to see the ground tarnished with footprints or dirt again.

As his thoughts wandered, the laughter started again. It echoed from far off and then, before JT knew it, it was upon him. It sounded as though a thousand people landed on the roof and scurried about. He tensed and gazed up at the opening, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was outside.

Just as the peaceful snow comforted him with its gentle fall, it changed, falling fast and heavy. The wind howled, creating a vortex of snow, a tornado dancing around JT on the floor.

Blackness engulfed the tornado, though the white of the snow made the room glow. JT could not make sense of anything happening around him or to him. He could not feel his arms, numb with cold.

The footsteps above trampled the roof with a deafening roll, faster and faster. The roof sounded as though it would collapse. It reminded JT of a herd of bulls rumbling over the plains. The stampeding noise narrowed, closing in on the opening.

JT's eyes went wide. He stood as firm as he could; fright coursed through his body. He did not want to be scared, but his breath came fast and his heart pounded.

"What you got?" JT finally yelled. "What you want?" JT lashed out with his cane. He sensed something jump through the hole in the roof, but could not make it out in the snow.

Something scraped his skin at the shoulder and he pivoted about. He took in a deep breath. The man in the purple suit from the courthouse stood in front of him, his smile large and white. He wore a hood with the head of a bull. JT could see the animal's dark eyes easily against the blinding snow. Red fire shot from the nostrils and the horns curled away on top of the head, standing high in the vortex of snow and some three feet long.

"Boo!" The man lunged toward JT. JT's eyes blurred as the bull's head closed in. He blacked out and fell. JT heard the ring of laughter and a crowd whispering, though he only could remember seeing the one man. Concerned, cold, confused, and soon covered with snow, JT crumpled to the hard, frozen floor.

JT's eyes opened. He lay face down in thick white snow. He was bitterly cold, the tips of his fingers numb, and his toes tingling in his socks. He could taste melting snow as it touched his tongue. He took in a deep breath and realized he was not on the floor of Warhead Dale, but on the ground. Cold dirt has a distinctive smell.

He raised his head and looked out over a sea of white that ended in a tree line. _Okay, I'm in a large field._ To his left, leafless, snow-covered, and reaching to the sky, stood the large oak tree in the middle of the Ol' 22 on the Shorts' farm. How did he get there? More importantly, how long had he been there?

He struggled to his numb feet and took in a deep breath. Regardless of the situation, it felt good to be back...home. Smiling, he turned south to see the old farmhouse. It was not there.

He turned totally around and around, looking for the house, but it was not there. Then he realized he might not be on the farm at all. Was it possible he was in a—?

The ground quaked. The sky turned black and the stars that poked their light through the darkness swirled. A burly laugh blew across the empty field; the snow bounced and rolled across the earth, forming a large wave that launched to the sky, taller and taller. JT's heart hammered in his chest as the wave came closer. Behind the wave, came a large truck with an enormous silver tank on its back that read "WATER." The truck pushed the mountain of snow. JT closed his eyes. A rush of cold drove through his body, then nothing. He lay still, frozen from fear, until he felt a soft tapping on his shoulder.

"Sleeper, wake up." JT heard the words, distant but clear.

"JT! Wake up!" The voice sounded louder and closer. His shoulders shook back and forth. He opened his eyes. Michael stood over him.

# Chapter 12

"Dude, are you okay? What in the world happened here last night?" Michael swiveled his neck back and forth, gazing around. Boards, sheets of plywood, splinters, insulation, and glass from the ceiling lay strewn across the floor and heaped with snow.

"It's all over the news," Michael began, his voice quick. "I tried to come over last night, but they closed the roads. Athens Eden hasn't seen this much snow in at least a hundred years. There's, like, sixteen inches. I came this morning as soon as I could." Michael helped JT to his feet.

"There was a man or something that crashed through the roof last night. I don't know what it was. He looked like the guy from court yesterday, but it couldn't have been." JT's eyes were fogged, he still felt uneasy, and it was hard to get his balance.

"You don't think it could have been Billy, do you?" Michael's voice was shaky. He might have realized that the monster he remembered as a child didn't hate him like he thought, but he still dreaded dealing with the Essence.

"No. I really don't think it was Billy. This person, or thing, was different." JT looked about the floor of the great room in Warhead Dale, then searched frantically. "Where's my cane?" JT asked quickly. "It was right here with me."

He pointed to the outline of his body in the snow with the faded outline of his cane beside it. It was gone.

JT rushed over to the couch. The journal and all his other things were there and, except being a little wet, intact. The cane had vanished.

He brushed the thick white cover of snow off the journal and opened it. A picture floated to the ground and he picked it up. It showed his grandfather next to the man with the dark complexion, both dressed in ceremonial garb. On the back, his grandfather had written, "Me and Jato, Purification ceremony, 1972."

JT brought the picture closer to his face and squinted. He thought, his brain working overtime. _It couldn't be_ , he thought. The eyes—the eyes of the man with his grandfather looked familiar. He saw the face explode through the tornado of snow hours ago; he remembered the eyes as the man grabbed his wrist in the courtroom. JT sucked in a mountain of air. _Could it really have been him? Was it the same person from the photo from his grandfather's journal? Most importantly, what did this man with the dark complexion want?_

Michael stared at JT. He wanted to say something, but could not muster the words. JT handed his friend the photo, his hand shaking as the smooth photographic paper slipped between his fingers.

"It was him," JT whispered, shuddering. Michael heard him, though his words trembled in the cold air. Michael's eyebrows shot up his forehead and his horned rimmed glasses slipped to the end of his nose.

"'It couldn't have been," Michael answered. "Jato Bindi has been dead for years. In fact, he died before your grandfather."

"I don't know, Michael. I just can't forget eyes like those. I swear it was him," JT sighed. He wished he could remember his past. He took the picture from Michael and stared at it.

Michael mumbled under his breath.

"What?" JT asked quickly. "What was that you said?"

Michael turned his head away from JT and looked at Ol' Captain Luke's faded portrait over the fireplace. "I said, let's just pray to God it wasn't Jato Bindi."

"Well, I need to find him. He has my cane." JT was exhausted and frustrated.

"Are you sure he has it?" Michael asked, his voice trembling in turn. "Maybe it was thrown around the room or something." Michael began to search, kicking through the snow and lifting ceiling boards.

"Maybe he went down to the basement," JT thought out loud.

Uneasy, Michael crossed his arms, but followed JT to the lower floor anyway.

"I found a really cool room with a generator. Seems to work okay," JT said as they discreetly made their way to the basement. He figured talking about something normal would calm them down.

"That's not the half of it," Michael mumbled.

"What'd you say?" JT asked.

"Oh, nothing—never mind." Michael's voice fluttered; he felt too uneasy to say anything else.

They checked the basement and returned rather quickly, convinced that whoever had blown through the ceiling had tried to enter the inner room, but with no success. JT guessed that the man—or thing—was irritated. They had found the bloody imprint of a very large fist in the wall.

"Well, we do know one thing, Michael." JT scraped his finger across the crimson streak.

"What's that, JT?" Michael managed to sound calm that time, though his insides were on fire with fright.

"Whoever was here last night is human." JT rubbed his fingers together.

They cautiously returned to the great room. JT crossed his arms and tried to think what to do next. He needed to get his cane back—

Panic coursed through his body. He tensed and his airway constricted. The memory of lavender scent tickled his nose. "Kali."

"What?" Michael answered, then his eyes widened.

"Kali—do you think he went after her? Does he know she's the steward of the key? Whoever it was wanted to get to the mahogany door. No doubt about it."

Adrenaline shot through JT; his hands shook. He paced back and forth. He could not let anything happen to Kali. If anything did, it would be his fault.

"JT, calm down," Michael ordered.

Michael remembered the time at the Shorts' farm under the big old oak tree, when his wits were anything but about him. JT had watched him contemplate meeting his long lost friend again for the first time in nine years. This time, JT hovered on the edge of being witless and out of control.

Michael placed his hands on JT's shoulders. JT felt a sense of comfort, but it turned to despair as Michael guided him to sit on the green couch. He dropped his head in his hands.

"I'll call Kali to make sure she's okay. But first we need to get out of this house; it's freezing in here."

JT slid his hand across the couch and picked up his grandfather's journal.

"Wild, isn't it?" Michael's question ended in a small chuckle. He did not know how to express his concern.

"What happened out there, Michael?" JT shook his head. He felt so tightly wound; he blinked his watery eyes hard. "Why did all of this have to happen to me?" He paused. "To him—to us?"

Michael could hear the longing in JT's voice. He just wanted answers. He just wanted to know what it was like to remember what he should remember.

Michael dusted snow off the couch and sat. "I don't know, JT. I really don't know why all of this happened. But we'll get through it. It's just one of those things where people find themselves in situations they could have never have fathomed before that, I guess." Michael thought. "I mean, two years ago I couldn't know I would be sitting here with you again, let alone that we'd go back into Bruinduer. So many things just happen. Whether it be to you or someone else. These things happen. Ol' Captain Luke knew that. He knew life was nothing but chance. He knew how to seize the moment when he had it, even if he didn't think he was worthy. Have you read that part yet?"

"No. I've just gotten to the point where he found out that the messenger boy was the Munch's son." JT could only think of Kali. He really wanted to know that whatever entered his life last night through Warhead Dale's ceiling would not be going after her.

"There's a lot more in that journal. You'll learn a lot. We gotta get out of here."

JT and Michael gathered what JT brought with him and headed back to Linda's diner.

As they stepped outside, they were dumbstruck—even though Michael had seen it once. The ground was a solid white blanket of snow, rippled where the wind had shaped it. The trees were heavy with the white stuff, their branches bending with the weight. Every few seconds a heap would slip off and crash to the ground.

The bitter breeze cut through JT's inadequate clothes, erasing any lingering drowsiness. He breathed in the clean air, his nostrils wide.

One step off of the top marble stair, JT's foot sank into the snow. The crystals melted and the cold water flowed into his shoes.

"They said this has never happened here before," Michael began. "Since they started keeping records, people have never seen snow this deep on the beach. Amazing, isn't it?"

JT had no idea how to answer Michael. He had never seen snow this deep in his life. They made their way through the snow and out toward the tunnel of trees. JT, curious, spun around to check out the hole in the roof of Ol' Captain Luke's house from the outside.

He remembered the ceiling splattering all around him, the noise and chaos as the figure crashed down on him. From the outside, the roof didn't look half as bad, but the opening looked odd.

A large wooden pole poked out of the hole with a ragged, frayed cloth draped from the top, trying to fly in the strong, cold wind. JT thought he saw something like a wooden platform at the base of the pole. He thought he recognized it—but it couldn't have been that, could it?

"Hurry up, JT. It's cold out here."

JT turned toward Michael, feeling a little perturbed. Michael was right about the bitter cold, though, the wind gnawed at his skin. Maybe he hadn't seen what he believed he saw. The excitement and strange weather could have played tricks on him. He caught up with Michael and they locked the gate, climbed in the big blue car, and left Warhead Dale once again.

The empty streets had only a few tire tracks etched in the snow. Not many people had found it necessary to leave their homes and venture out in the elements.

Listening to the radio on the way to Linda's diner, they learned that many people were out of power since the area was not prepared to dealing with catastrophic snowfall.

"Linda hasn't opened the diner," Michael explained. "At least, not yet. I'm sure she will have coffee brewing and the whole town drinking it before too long."

JT clutched his grandfather's journal. His knee throbbed, hurting more than ever. Whether it was the air freezing his joints or the psychological effect of his missing cane, he did not know. He did know that he really wanted to make certain that Kali was okay. In this large world, he knew she was still out there. He only wished he knew what she was thinking—and if it was about him.

Slowly the big blue car rumbled through the snow, then stopped at Linda's diner with a large bang. JT said not a word, but Michael knew that his friend was worrying about Kali.

Michael asked JT to stay on one of the stools by the counter while he went into Linda's office. The diner was so quiet that the rumbling of the heat through the vents and the vibrations of a metal case full of pastries sounded loud.

JT found the wait agonizing, though it could have only been a few moments. He could see Michael hold the phone to his ear. It was hard to make out, but he heard the mumbled cadence of Michael asking if Kali was available to come to the phone.

Michael glanced up at JT, smiled, nodded, and gave him a thumbs up, as though the person on the other end was fetching Kali. At least JT knew that she was still alive.

"What do you mean she won't come to the phone?" JT could hear Michael's raised voice.

JT felt a pit form in his stomach—and another one in his mind. It sounded like Kalie had had enough of them.

"Oh. She really said that?" Michael spoke into the handset. Then he made obligatory grunts, as though trying to understand what was being said.

"I apologize if I seemed rude. Will you please tell her that Michael called?"

After another long pause, Michael's mood turned and he shook his head. "Thank you. Good-bye." Michael put the handset in the cradle, slipped out of the office, and sat beside JT.

JT clasped his hands, put his elbows on the counter, and rested his head on top of his knuckles.

"She doesn't want to talk to us," Michael said, his voice choked.

"Well, let's go see her." JT rose from the stool and walked toward the diner's door.

Michael stayed put, watching JT cross to the entrance. He'd had a feeling JT might want to do this. "I just can't get up and go, JT. There are things to do here."

"Shut it, Michael," JT answered. "You came to me on the farm and expected me to follow you into a freakin' war. You're going with me. You owe me, as far as I am concerned. She could be dead tomorrow."

Michael knew that. He also knew that his friend did not trust him completely. He had told JT that he wanted to help him uncover the mystery of his life. He thought for a moment. Just as he had changed JT's life forever when he found his friend hidden away on a farm, JT was about to change his life— and just when he thought it was turning back to normal. If only that were true.

"Okay." Michael scraped his keys up off the counter, rushed into the back, and grabbed two coats. He threw one to JT and put on the other. "I guess we're off to Maryland."

The big blue car rumbled out of the frozen parking lot of Linda's diner and turned toward the highway. Not a word was said. They were going to Kali's. Michael had insisted on leaving Linda a short note with their intentions. They felt bad to leave her shorthanded, but they had faith that Linda would understand.

As they left Athens Eden the snow seemed to melt away. The sixteen inches of snow had been a local anomaly. However it happened, it had brought the daily life of the town inhabitants to a halt.

Once they reached cruising speed on the highway, Michael peered at JT every few moments or so. JT's mind wandered as he looked out at the passing countryside. Hs brain was a mess, full of random thoughts. He fought back his motion sickness, but the fume-filled interior made it difficult. He focused on his grandfather's journal in his hand, slipping out the picture of the old sailor and Jato Bindi.

"How long to Kali's?" JT hoped it would be a quick ride.

"Probably seven hours or so," Michael said over the growl of the car's motor. JT dropped his head, then cracked open his grandfather's journal.

Motion sickness had always been a problem for JT. Ever since he could remember, whenever he rode in a car, the woozy feeling would creep up the back of his neck and work its way to his stomach, until he had to crack the window for fresh air to keep the sickness at bay.

When he got older, he noticed that if he controlled the motion somehow, like actually driving the car, for example, he didn't feel sick. Determined, he cracked the window beside him and stared at his grandfather's journal. He didn't know if he could chat with Michael for the entire time. He remembered the last time he had taken a long trip with Michael. There were always too many questions, too many things slamming around his mind to think about. At least with his grandfather's journal there would be answers.

JT started reading again after his grandfather found out that the small messenger boy was the Munch's son.

Dear Reader,

I have no idea what day it is. The hours run together in a haze of trying to come up with a plan to catch this madman. We have at least discovered that the young boy who brought us the message earlier is the monster's son. I have to consider that I may need to do something drastic. It has been bothering me for the last few days that, if I had known that the young boy was the Munch's son, I might have taken him prisoner. Then I would have had leverage and bait to make the monster to come to me, instead of risking my mens' lives tracking a lunatic.

As the days get longer and my time grows shorter, I may be forced to consider kidnapping this thing's child and trying to lure him to me. I am not sure of the morality of the situation, but as we pass so many burned villages and witness so many mutilated bodies of young children and their parents, I think that morality may be on my side in the matter.

I want you to know, however, my dear reader, that this decision will not be taken lightly. Though I have to believe that, if we seize the child, we may save many lives. I am sure they would think my morality just in the matter.

JT placed his finger inside the journal to mark his place and glanced at Michael. He knew that Michael had read the journal. Did he start firing off questions at him, like had so many times before? Or should he just keep reading to find out for himself?

He could see why Michael had thought that the Vryheid wanted to find out about free will. His grandfather would have to make definite choices soon and, obviously, they would rest on his own shoulders. No one was holding a weapon to his head; he would just have to make a moral choice, no matter the consequences.

Michael sensed JT's eyes on him. "What?" Michael asked, loud enough to be heard over the roar of the big blue car's engine.

"You've read this, right?" JT asked, rhetorically. But Michael had never mentioned the Munch before. Of course, the Munch had not been important before.

"Yes, JT, I have read that journal inside and out. You have, too."' Michael shook his head.

"You know about the Munch?" Again, JT knew the answer, had to ask it.

"Yes," Michael said briefly. He gripped the steering wheel tightly.

JT opened the journal to read, but he could not stop thinking. Either some events in the journal simply could not be understood or his friend was hiding information from him. What could happen if JT knew what Michael knew? Would the entire universe collapse? When JT thought of it, his universe almost had collapsed the last time he tried to find out about his past. With him, something like that was probably inevitable anyway

JT cracked a rare smile. He liked the way it made him feel. If nothing else came of the mysterious man taking his cane, at least he knew he would see Kali. He smiled again.

JT turned back to the journal. Though the leather-bound manuscript had sailed the seven seas, traveled through rough jungles and over the toughest terrain known, he treated it as delicately as an egg. The written pages held the answer to his life.

As he read on, his grandfather writing seemed less clear in some respects. The blank margins turned into maps and rough sketches of insects, animals, and strange symbols. A drawing of a comet burning across a starlit sky covered almost half of a page where an entry suddenly ended. JT could tell that his grandfather was succumbing to his surroundings, almost becoming obsessed with capturing the elusive Munch.

JT did not consider it complete obsession only because his grandfather remained a professional sailor and, most of all, a gentleman. Still, the dark, wearisome task of tracking a man he had never seen on behalf of an employer he had never met, would daunt any man. The old sailor also came face to face with ugly deaths regularly as he went from destroyed village to destroyed village. JT imagined that the sight of such devastation took its toll.

The entries were full of adventure and heartache. JT's grandfather kept getting close to catching the monster, but then, somehow, in the last moments—in some cases, minutes—the Munch would escape. On one daring caper, Ol' Captain Luke and his team made it to a village as it still burned. They were able to rescue most of the inhabitants, but the sailor was distraught when he wrote in his journal that night, he could still see "the most beautiful eyes of a child, lying so powerless in my helpless arms, shut with a thousand dreams behind them. I cannot help but to weep for her."

JT took a deep breath. He couldn't believe what humans were capable of doing to others. The free will argument began to hold water for him. He still couldn't believe that, if an all-powerful being like Billy in Bruinduer or a God in the outside world did exist, they let these awful killings happen. How could such a being let a delicate child die in such a brutal way? It confused him, but the thought of seeing Kali again eased his mind.

JT tried to sleep a little. He did want to talk with Michael; he did not know what to say. The trip to Maryland passed in the odd silence of friends who, in some way, know what the other is thinking without saying a word. Occasionally, they mentioned signs or landmarks; they stopped to eat or relieve themselves, but, all in all, it was a silent, uneventful drive. JT did not pester Michael with questions and Michael did not push any answers on JT.

JT thought about Mary Catherine. He could still see her body lying there, wasted by cancer. He had felt helpless and empty, the way his grandfather must have felt as he traveled from destroyed village to destroyed village.

The thought entered his mind that his grandfather, though he felt helpless, would do something about the atrocities along that winding African river if given a chance, if he could catch the Munch.

As JT pondered his grandfather's situation, he realized he could do something for Mary Catherine. He may not have been able to cure her physically, but he could care for her just the same; he could love her.

The land whizzed by as quickly as the time passed. JT tried to read the journal more, but his motion sickness would not let him. His eyes became heavy. The monotonous hum of the engine and the vibration of the seat relaxed him and he fell asleep.

The dark he experienced in his mind split into light. He could feel branches and thick leaves slap his cheeks. His feet felt heavy; he lifted one, noticing the mud caked on his shoes.

The light took on colors; the whiteness turned to green and brown. He heard the distinct chunking sound a machete makes as its blade sinks into brush, tearing and clearing it away. The air around him became thick, wet with heat. His skin felt moist as the sweat dripped from his pores. He felt a pinch on his arm and slapped it, crunching an insect under his hand, but not before it sank its teeth into him. His vision cleared. He was following a band of men in a column through a dense, green jungle. The smell of sweat, dirt, and thick leaves filled the air around him.

The men in front yelled out orders that cascaded back to JT's position. The commands were foreign to him, but he obeyed instinctively. One incomprehensible command echoed and the entire group would halt. Another command blew through the jungle noises, "Side right!" They all faced right and then the caravan of men marched in that direction.

The sounds of jungle life were obvious and exciting. Exotic birds squealed and monkeys howled, but the mission kept the men focused sharply on their task. An odd silence dressed JT from his head to his toe. Though he could feel the warm, soggy thickness of the air around him, he felt hollow, as though he were standing inside, on a Hollywood soundstage, acting in some sick movie.

A command rang through the air, "Lastly down!" At least, that is what it sounded like to JT, but he could not be sure. Like dominoes falling, the men hit the ground. JT was confused. He felt frozen and still stood as the caravan of men plunged chest first to the damp jungle floor. Then the smell of packed mulch smacked his face and centipedes ran along the back of his ankles. A crack sounded in the distance, then a whooshing, scratching, clanging noise exploded.

JT's heart raced, he could not understand what the sound was. He clenched his hands as his throat went dry. He looked from left to right quickly, not knowing where the sound was coming from. A very familiar laugh boomed through the tops of the trees.

"My God, we will all die!" shouted a man, facedown in the dirt some distance in front of JT.

Another cracking thunderous growl hammered the air; the trees swayed back and forth. The animal sounds vanished. _Ka-Blam!_ The jungle in front of them exploded.

An intense light flashed. JT could see the rippling wave of the explosion get closer and closer to him. A ball of fire mowed down the trees in front of him. The blast hit him, followed by unbearable heat. His eyes sprang open. He lifted his head, shaking with adrenaline.

Someone on his left said, "We're here."

Michael jammed the gearshift into park and turned the key, shutting off the car's engine. The car stuttered, spit, rattled, and stopped with a bang.

"You okay?" Michael's simple question showed his concern.

JT regained his bearings. The dream had been so real that he welcomed the cool air of Maryland to wipe awat the heat of the jungle. "Yeah, Michael." JT paused. "I think I'm okay."

Michael got out of the car and JT followed.

They had parked in front of a modest house in a modest neighborhood. The houses, showing a little age, nestled closely together. Most of them looked the same; they were brick split-level homes with chimneys giving off ribbons of black smoke from the oil heat. The only variations were the color of the trim and the assortment of lawn ornaments, ranging from gnomes with pointed red hats to large deer figurines feeding on barren ground. The large trees in the neighborhood were large, revealing the age of the homes. Their deep roots had ripped cracks in the concrete sidewalk.

The cold felt harsher than what JT was used to. Though Athens Eden had been cold lately, it remained protected from the jet stream. Here, JT felt his skin might freeze to his bones. No matter how many layers he might put on, he never thought he would get warm.

JT and Michael walked up the drive of the house with green trim, climbed its cracking stoop, and rang the doorbell. A small black plaque, hung neatly over the tiny black mailbox to the right of the door, read "The Logans."

JT's heart pounded. He decided that only his nervous shaking added to his shivering from the cold kept him from becoming completely numb.

They waited only a few moments, but, as usual, it felt much longer. The brass door handle turned and the solid black door jerked open a cracked.

Standing in the door was Mrs. Gale Holland Logan, also known as Kali's mother.

"Oh," Gale explained. "It's you two. Well, she's not here."

A beautiful person in a past life, Gale Logan stood almost six feet. Kali was not quite as tall, but close. Kali's mother wore a sagging t-shirt under a long blue silk robe that slipped off one shoulder; the sash had white fluff balls at the ends. Obviously, she did not care what anyone at the door thought of her appearance.

She resembled Kali, but had not aged well. Above her leathery face, covered in fine wrinkles, dark roots carved a line down the middle of bleached blonde hair. Her eyes held the merest hint of her daughter's sparkling blue.

Uncomfortable, JT looked down, only to see red and black checkered pajama bottoms, worn white cotton bedroom slippers, and a glass of spirits in her hand. The ice clanked every time she gestured, finishing off the ensemble.

"Hey, Mrs. Logan. You remember JT, right?" Michael's voice cracked and he bowed his head almost submissively.

"Why yes, of course I remember young Master Davis—it's you that I want to forget. Please, don't call me Mrs. Logan. It's Gale." Gale sipped from her clattering glass. JT could smell the alcohol.

"Sorry to have bothered you, Mrs. Logan." Michael tried again.

"Don't call me that," Kali's mom snapped.

JT felt oddly embarrassed. He didn't know if he were embarrassed for himself or for Kali's mom, but the awkward feeling made him impatient. He really wanted to see Kali.

"Did she happen to tell you where she might have gone?" JT spoke up. His voice started low, but ended in a small squeak.

Kali's mom swirled her glass, clanking the ice as she smirked at JT. The strong smell from her breath made him almost cough.

"She doesn't tell me much of anything anymore. But if you want any clues where she might be, you can search around her room as much as you'd like." Kali's mom stepped aside and threw up her arm, motioning JT and Michael into the house. "I don't care too much, just try not to take anything. Her room is up the stairs there, third door on the left."

The scene felt surreal. Michael glanced at JT. JT raised his eyebrows and nodded to Michael to enter the house. Michael shrugged his shoulders and JT followed him.

Kali's mom disappeared to their right down a small flight of stairs; they heard a TV in the background. The house could only be described as bland. The house held nothing of interest, no family photos or individual pictures. Generic landscapes hung on the walls, all very random and worse for wear. It almost reminded JT of the Triton hall and Charlie's paintings of his wars. The house even smelled dull and sterile. JT didn't know why, but it reminded him of a hospital.

JT and Michael tiptoed through the house simply because they were nervous. JT's heart pounded in his chest, though he tried not to show it. The second floor had a silence that better suited a library; they stayed quiet, trying not to give Kali's mom any reason to come after them. The first meeting had been awkward enough; if she watched them search Kali's the scene would surely be even more uncomfortable.

When they opened the door to Kali's room, the unexpected decor startled them.

Puzzled, JT and Michael stared.

The room was painted pink. Stuffed animals, horses with bows in their hair, small fluffy dogs, bears, assorted characters that JT had never seen, possibly from TV shows, lay strewn about the floor. A thick fluffy blue comforter with a ruffled bottom had been piled up on the unmade bed. Posters of young, half dressed men with bulging muscles and chiseled chins littered the walls and young adult fantasy novels spilled out of her bookcase. Piles of dirty clothes grew in small mounds on the floor.

All that looked normal for a young woman who moved back into her parents' house, living in her girlhood room, kept the way she had left it years ago. Yet within the ruffled, pink childlike space were shadows of things that might be considered dark in some circles.

The chiseled chin posters shared space with political posters with radical slogans. Philosophy books by authors with unpronounceable names had been crammed in between the children's books. Dark symbols of heavy metal bands and the occult cluttered the shelves next to trolls with pointy hair. The mish-mashed room told the story of a young girl holding onto the dreams of childhood, who turned into a rebellious young woman trying to find her way in the world.

"Kali doesn't have a sister, does she?" JT asked. "Maybe she shares the room with her?"

"No," Michael answered quietly. "She's an only child. This is her room, all right."

"Oh." Without another word, JT walked over to her cluttered desk on the right.

He could feel his nerves on fire as his heart raced again, his vision blurred, and he felt woozy. He did not know why, but he felt that way in places where Kali had been.

JT put his hands in his pockets and did not touch anything. Papers cluttered the desk surrounded and covered by empty bubble gum wrappers. He could see a diary on the right corner and her computer's screensaver showed a familiar castle with fireworks exploding over it and the phrase "Where dreams come true" scrolling across the bottom.

Without thinking, JT reached for the diary. As he fumbled with the book, a picture fell out, one taken of him, Michael, and Kali when they were young.

Behind him, Michael whispered urgently, "JT, what are you doing? Don't read that!"

JT had no idea why he had reached for the diary. His mind wandered. Though he felt a little apprehension, something told him to open the diary to the last entry, written earlier that day. He crammed the photo back into the diary and, when he opened it to the last entry, he saw another picture, one of Kali and her father. She had her arms around his neck and they were smiling.

I love my dad. I really do. It is hard to go to the hospital and see him. Today will be only the fourth or fifth time I've been there since he was committed. I doubt if we did the right thing. He didn't say much of anything the last time I was there. I wish I could remember when that was. I wonder if that has changed any since then. I guess I will find out. I still think about JT and—

"You little worm!"

JT could feel Kali's anger from across the room and behind him. He slammed the diary back onto the table, the wind from the action blowing papers and gum wrappers to the floor.

JT slowly turned around. Kali was there, her face swollen and red, her fists balled up at her sides. Breathing heavily, she glared at JT.

Embarrassed and scared, JT turned bright red. He met Kali's bright green eyes. Even though the young woman was seething, they were still the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

Her hair was different than last time he saw her. Now, instead of a chin length bob, she wore it longer, in a ponytail.

"What are you two doing here?" Her question made it clear that she had planned never to see Michael and JT ever again. In a loud, harsh, voice she declared, "I left that place behind me!"

"Good to see you, Kali."

Kali stormed across the bedroom, shoved JT to the side, and clutched her diary. "So, did you read anything interesting in here?" She smacked JT across the arm with the diary. She swung hard, but pulled back at the last second, so it only stung.

When JT didn't answer, Kali put the diary on her desk and leaned over it.

"No," JT began. "I mean, yeah—I mean, I'm sorry. I was just trying to see where I could find you." Now even JT's ears turned red.

"Well, did you find anything?" Kali asked.

"You went to go see your dad. Where is he? Why is he not here?" JT asked, trying to deflect Kali's anger away from him.

"Tell him, Michael," Kali retorted.

Michael felt like he was always explaining the results of his own actions to JT. He had been afraid to tell JT about Charlie, afraid of telling JT the truth. Now, after hiding the truth for so long, he knew better. Whatever had happened, had happened. He could do nothing about the past. Now, he felt embarrassed to tell JT, but not frightened. He felt calm.

"Kali and her family left for a reason, JT, which I know you don't remember. It was because of all that stuff that happened with Charlie. Kali's dad represented me in court. He was a politician then, so the media and the town tried to tear him down. They couldn't understand how he could defend a murderer." Michael bowed his head. During the trial and after, it had been hard for him to be called a killer.

As he continued the story, his voice cracked and he could feel his eyes swell. "I don't know why people didn't believe us. I think it had to do with your grandfather. It's hard not to know the history of famous folk in Athens Eden and, since Ol' Captain Luke was the only famous person in town—well, you get what I'm saying. Plus, he was rich and all the so-called regular folk who didn't even know him, really didn't like him."

"Look!" Kali interrupted. "My dad's in a hospital, okay? My mom had him committed to a mental institution. The people in Athens Eden didn't leave him alone. They ran him out of town. They ran all of us out of town. God, I hate that place. He was the District Attorney. He was elected and when Michael got accused, he didn't prosecute. He resigned his position and became Michael's defense attorney."

"He was such a good man," Michael said.

"No!" Kali yelled. "He represented Michael because I asked him to." Her nerves raised to a fever pitch, Kali stood tensed, ready for anything. "I knew Michael didn't have anything to do with Charlie's death. I knew that little weasel was up to no good." Kali paused. "And my daddy believed me." She sighed a tired sigh. "I wish he had never helped Michael. I know it might be bad to say, but my life wouldn't have been messed up like this. My family would still be together."

Kali snatched up her diary, pushed JT and Michael out of her way, and stormed out of the room. She yelled her parting shot over her shoulder, "I still don't know why I went back to Bruinduer this last time with you. I'm just so stupid!"

JT and Michael had no idea what to say. JT felt his heart sink. He wished he could remember the past. It would be so much easier to understand. He felt blame slip beneath his skin. Maybe if his mom hadn't moved away from Athens Eden, if he hadn't lost his memory, or if he could remember exactly why he let Charlie talk them into taking him into Bruinduer them the first time... He thought _, If I could only go back and altar one thing, I wouldn't let Charlie go with us._

"Man, Michael I just wish I could remember everything—I'm just sorry."

"JT, I'm the one that needs to be sorry." Michael put his hand on JT's shoulder.

They walked out of the room. JT heard Kali in another room, sobbing, and started toward her, but Michael grabbed his arm. "Just leave her alone, JT."

"I came all this way, Michael." JT had nothing left. He wanted, needed to be with Kali. "I've got to go to her." His voice was strong and loud.

"JT." Michael spoke in a low whisper, his lip quivering a little. "She doesn't want to be with you. She's safe here. Let her go."

JT could feel his eyes water. He wanted to be cool about it, but sometimes that didn't cut it. _Strong men show their feelings, right?_ He made it quick, but it was almost impossible for Michael to comprehend, 'No.'

Michael squeezed JT's arm and nodded toward the stairs.

After a few moments, JT nodded and they made their way to the front door.

JT did not know why it slipped his mind—maybe because Michael had said she was safe—but he never warned Kali about the strange man in the purple suit. On the way out, he could only think of how much he wanted to be with her, and how he couldn't do that.

JT tried to waste as much time as possible going to the front door. He gazed around the house as he meandered down the steps. As he reached for the door, he heard the sound of a recliner closing and the clink of ice in a glass.

"You boys want to stay here tonight?"

The night was creeping in and the wind began to blow outside, making the windows whistle.

"They are calling for a hell of a storm tonight. It was all over the news today about that weird snow you guys had down in Athens Eden. God, I knew there was a reason I left that place."

Kali's mom poked her head out of the sunken living room, her robe still hanging from her shoulder and her hair unkempt.

"Mrs. Logan—" JT started.

"Don't call me that," she snapped. She turned and went back to the chair. "Go on if you want to, but you can still stay!"

JT stopped. "What should we do, Michael?"

After a little back and forth with looks and shrugs, JT replied, "It's okay, Mrs. Lo—" He caught himself. "I mean, Gale. Sorry to have bothered you."

JT swung the door open and they walked out in to the cold Maryland air.

"Suit yourself." They heard Gale Logan sit in her chair and swirl her ice before he shut the door.

JT felt oddly fine. His knee hurt, but, to his surprise, only a little. He peered at the beautiful orange and purple sunset and wondered what life was all about. Neither of them said anything as they walked to the big old blue car.

Michael opened the driver's side door and, out of the corner of his eye, JT saw his grandfather's journal in the backseat. Acting on a strange impulse to grab it, he dragged open the back door.

A shadow fell over the car. Heavy black clouds expanded over the beautiful sunset and grew over the treetops, creeping closer and closer and larger and larger. The wind blew ever harder and the temperature dropped quickly and night snuck in. The cold ripped through JT's clothes as the wind blew.

Michael leapt from the car. The sky rumbled. JT put the journal back on the backseat and looked upward. Like bees swarming, white flakes of snow mixed with pebbles of sleet and hail swirled as it fell from the black clouds. The winter weather hit JT and Michael before they had any chance to react. They jumped into the car, their only shelter.

The wind blew harder. They could see nothing but snow and wind, painting the car's glass white even as they tried gazing out. The hail pounded the steel car's body so loudly that they plugged their ears. The front and rear windshields, already cracked quickly developed a network of additional cracks.

The big old blue car swayed back and forth as the snow and wind intensified. JT shut his eyes. Michael gripped the steering wheel, panting. Thick puffs of mist streamed from his mouth as the air in the car turn bitterly cold.

At that moment, JT could control nothing. In fact, whatever the weather had in store for them might just control him. JT had experienced something like this event just two nights before, so he wondered what it might really be. A thought entered his brain. _Could it be?_

JT gathered the courage to go outside and face whatever was happening to them. He pushed the car door open with all of his might and stood in the tempest. He planted his legs; pain shot through his troubled knee until it felt like it would explode. The blowing ice and wind cut his skin, smacked him in the face, and forced him turn his head away from the storm. His hands went numb. With all his strength, he faced back toward the sky, ignoring the pellets of ice. A piercing red light sliced through the whiteness. A dark laugh echoed from above.

"You cannot do anything about me!" the deep voice rumbled.

In the blinding storm, JT couldn't tell where anything was. He followed the red beam closely, then he heard the ceiling of Kali's house being ripped apart. Even over the howl of the tempest that engulfed him, Michael, and the big blue car, JT heard the cracking of boards.

As quickly as the weather had surrounded them, the wind tightened and formed a tornado made of snow.

The dark man from the court house, smiling that smile appeared in the swirling snow. Wearing a large, flowing purple robe, he floated effortlessly in the tornado, riding gracefully with the cyclone's sway, controlling its every move. He held JT's cane in his left hand, the ruby eyes of the skull and crossbones burning red through black sky.

The tornado rider dove into Kali's house through the opening he had made and, though JT did not hear her scream, he saw the man yank Kali from her house with his right hand. Kali struggled, her ponytail thrashing, her legs scrabbling for purchase. Her attempts to escape did not faze the angry, enthusiastic culprit. In fact, JT thought he enjoyed the fight. His grin spread from ear to ear and the echoing laughter was deep and reverberating.

JT ran toward the tornado, reaching for Kali. The dark man looked at JT like a giant looking at an ant. With one wave of JT's own cane, the storm returned to envelop both JT and Michael, smothering them in snow and wind.

The tornado disappeared into the distance, taking Kali with it. After a few moments, the storm ceased as well. Two feet of fresh snow blanketed the surrounding area, as far as JT and Michael could see. Snow draped the trees and ice encased their now bare branches. The white snow reflected the now bright moon and the dim stars, amplifying their luster, making the night brilliant. The street lights popped on and JT had to squint against the brightness.

The front door to Kali's house burst open. Kali's mom stood in the doorway and slammed the liquid left in her glass down her throat. She snarled and stared at JT and Michael, then gawked at the shell of her house. She barked, "What the hell was that?"

JT was speechless. A voice in the back of his mind told him to pick the journal back up. He reached for it.

"Let's get in the car and go." Michael's voice and body trembled. The freezing air would make anyone shiver, but JT concluded Michael's trembling was due more to him being scared.

"Not sure, Michael." JT had no idea how to explain what had happened, though he was probably right that his grandfather's journal would tell him more.

"So what's in this journal, Michael?" JT asked. He thought back to their first adventure. As they rode from the farm to Athens Eden, Michael had said very clearly that he had no problem reading the journal. Then he recalled Kali mentioning that Michael had read what Ol' Captain Luke learned about the free will of the conjured inhabitants of Bruinduer.

Michael knew when he had been called out. "A lot of stuff is in that journal, JT." He collapsed into the driver's seat and placed his head in his hands. All of Michael's uncertainty returned with a vengeance. The confidence he had found as King of Godwin in Bruinduer vanished. His emotions went up and down, peaking and plunging. His thoughts stayed a jumbled mess.

"What is all of this going on?" The slurred voice came from behind JT as he felt an arm pulling at his shoulders.

JT wheeled around and Kali's mom, her drink still in one hand, stood there barefoot. She tried to pull her robe over her arms. Her legs were turning blue from the snow.

"I don't know, Mrs. Logan," JT replied. "You need to get into the house."

"I told you not to call me that." Kali's mom swatted at JT with her free hand.

Still carrying the journal, JT led the shrieking woman back up to the house. "Come on, Michael." JT turned briefly, summoning his friend. "This is just getting started."

JT was frightened. Mrs. Logan was hysterical. There was another inexplicable storm and Kali was taken.

In the house, Kali's mom, still oblivious to the cold, babbled incoherently while she grabbed the phone and dialed 911. JT wanted to be calm, but his brain could not form a rational idea. He turned to Michael.

"Talk," JT demanded, his voice just above a whisper. "Tell me what you know."

"The police will be here any minute." Kali's mom plopped onto the couch in the living room, pulling the curtain back to watch for help to arrive. "you two will finally go to jail like you should have all those years ago."

Michael and JT sat at the kitchen table. JT tossed the journal on top, but the strap came loose and the free pages spread across the table.

"Now you can talk," JT insisted. "I finally realize that all this stuff—this stuff with my grandfather—goes a little deeper than you've said."

Michael put his elbows on the table and sank his head into his hands. "Yeah, JT. I never thought it would go this far."

To tell the truth, Michael had hoped that nothing would happen after they came back. He had planned to live in the Vryheid fantasy world forever, without JT or Kali knowing. He had been so miserable in his real life that he didn't care whose lives he destroyed to accomplish that.

All of that changed when JT came to his rescue, not caring what he received in return. JT and Kali, fought beside him, risking their lives in a conflict he so stupidly started. _What was that all for?_ In a human's life, power lasts a miniscule fraction of a second in the time of the world—in the time of Billy—in the time of God.

Michael regretted it. And he could see no point in keeping JT's grandfather's secrets now. His friend had desperate need and he would be there for him. "JT, I really wish you could remember all of this. It's hard to see you suffering because you don't know what all of this is about anymore.

"They told me that it would be better when I got older, but they were dead wrong." JT slid his hand across the table to clutch the journal. For a second, they both held it, but then JT nervously let it go. Michael turned it around and opened the leather cover.

He had no thoughts, only the dread of a young person who knows they have done wrong and must confess, then make amends.

Michael had a lot of guilt when it came to JT. He had not seen his friend—well, before latest journey into Bruinduer—for nine long years. He had hidden what he knew from everyone, so he could use the power he discovered by reading JT's grandfather's diary.

He did wonder why JT had never asked him before about what exactly he learned from the journal. All the same, Michael had a lot of information. He knew the past. He never wanted to forget his younger years. He obsessed about them as he grew older, when JT was gone, hidden away on the Shorts' farm. Michael wanted nothing more than to return to Bruinduer to take control of a life there.

Now, with everything that had transpired since he brought JT back, he only wanted to forget the years gone and try desperately not to relive his own mistakes. It was ironic. JT wanted the memories that Michael only wished he could forget. JT had no idea how lucky he was.

Kali had said it best, that time in front of the diner. She had told JT he was lucky to lose his memory. That felt like a lifetime ago now.

Michael flipped through the pages of the journal as he thought. He did want to help JT. He stopped, opened the old book, and put his hands on the table beside it.

"You ready for this?" Michael asked, his voice thick.

JT was distracted by thoughts about Kali, where she had been taken, whether the police could make it through the snow, and how much he could tell the police before they stopped believing him. And who knew what neighbors saw what happened and what they told the police about.

Now, he focused all of his attention on Michael. JT felt sure Michael would read something outlandish that could only be understood by someone who knew Bruinduer and, since he forgotten it, he would need Michael to find Kali. And, as he had just realized, he loved Kalie.

"Okay," Michael began. "For the record, I warned you about all of this before I started." Michael cleared his throat. "I'm sure you never made it this far in the journal or you would have mentioned it. It's interesting, you know. You are not supposed to read this thing from cover to cover. If you do, you only get confused. Sometimes it's better to start with the answer to the mystery rather than wait for it to be revealed." After a deep breath, Michael read aloud.

December 17

I am at a loss for words, dear reader. What I thought would happen, did not. I thought the decision I had made would work, but it did not work. I am alone. I know now that human vanity and human greed have no boundaries. Most of the time, it is not worth the price you must pay to stay at a particular station. I know that now—after the fact.

I followed Jato through the door. Why, I do not know. It was more curiosity than desire for treasure or adventure. What existed behind this very plain door? And the larger question, why did it exist in the first place? The lure of my curiosity peaked at one point and turned very quickly to what it was that I might be rewarded for my so-called sacrifice. Jato said that everything comes with a price in this land and, only now, following this quest, do I actually believe it.

I was told that, behind the old brown door, I would find treasure and irresistible allure, but all I really found was pain.

At first, it could be called paradise. The beautiful new land was breathtaking. One moment I was in a dark, small, dried out cave and the next, I walked into a thick wood that I did not know, with clean air and the perfect temperature. Through the tall brush were rich houses and tall towers with water as cool as ice and plenty of food. I had to believe it was Eden.

I had not wanted to believe the stories, but now I stood in a world not bound by the laws of my birthplace. I wish the first question to cross my mind had been "What does govern a land separated from the rule of law I was used to?"

Dear reader, my only question was "What can I take from this world to make my life better—or is my life better here?" What made the land dangerous to me was the freedom it provided. There was no rule that I could see and, if there was one, it was made by the one who possessed the key.

JT sat as quietly as he could, listening intently, though he also waited for the police cars to pull up at any second.

Michael helped himself to a glass of water, sat back down, and flipped through many pages.

December 21 or whatever day it may be...

I have learned how the Vryheid keep this land they call Bruinduer from collapsing as long as they do. No matter what shape it may be formed in, they use simple balance. It is quite simple, you see, and, now that I have seen this work firsthand—our creator knew exactly what he was doing.

This land tends to work much like the natural world. It has many characteristics of nature. The magic, or possibly science, of the land puts an environment in place that works, but unfortunately humans, though just as much a part of nature as the rest, don't quite work the same.

You see, an antelope and the cheetah that hunts it know exactly what to do. The antelope eats the grass, the cheetah eats the antelope, and the waste of the cheetah grows the grass and so forth. What amazes me is that humans don't quite know their role in life right awy. Are they good by nature or are they evil by nature? It's impossible to tell, but this world requires balance. So the humans in the world must be as balanced as the antelope and cheetah; there must be evil and there must be good. Or better—we humans must have a role to play, whether we know what it is or not and whether the line that divides the two is grey or not.

It has come to my attention today that I am the role of good. My counterpart, Jato, is without question, the evil of this world. I now know why he did what he did. I now know why he lured me to this place. I now know why I trekked across the desert after him when I grew mad at every destroyed village and charred body, every broken family and abandoned home. I know why he paid me anonymously. I was foolish—I fell prey to the Munch.

JT hung his head. Though he wanted to be astonished at what he had heard, he wasn't. Why would he have expected any more? If he had only been able to remember the stories, remember the journal, he would have an idea of what was happening.

He reached down and pinched his forearm. Then he slapped his face.

Michael jumped.

JT wanted to wake up. What had he missed? What had he let happen and had done nothing about it? The tornado was a powerful storm, but did he allow Kali to be taken to her death needlessly?

JT felt like his grandfather must have when he was lured into Bruinduer to play some game. He recognized the feeling from the last time: helplessness. He only had the power to do one thing; he had to get to Kali.

Red and blue lights licked the inside of the house, as the sky remained overcast and dark. The police were at the door.

"That's them there, Officer!" Kali's mom squealed. She placed her glass down long enough to direct the officers to kitchen where JT and Michael were sitting. White snow dripped from the ripped ceiling, melting as it fell, then splattering on the floor. The moon's rays began to poke through the clouds reflecting on the snow, making the creeping night appear as though it were day.

The officers calmly walked into the kitchen.

JT and Michael looked at each other, their faces stoic. Michael's calm hid a major case of nerves, but JT was indifferent. For some reason, jail did not feel like a bad option. He could spend the rest of his days behind bars where nothing could happen to him. He remembered Kali in the jail in Bruinduer—at least he had known she would be safe.

The taller of the two officers placed his hands on his hips and tipped his eyes up to the missing roof.

"They did this! They said they went out to their car, but, the next thing I knew, a tornado hit the house and my daughter went screaming out of the hole. The wind and whatever that thing was made a hole in my roof." Kali's mom was frantic. "They did this before, you know. They killed this kid and no one ever found the body. These two never said anything and what they did say was nothing but lies. I don't know how they did it. They just did stuff in that house and my daughter and husband—I swear if I could have done anything I would have. My husband, he wanted to help, but no, he went all crazy. We had to leave that messed up place and come here and now he's in that hospital." Exhausted, Kali's mom collapsed into one of the chairs at the table.

Michael and JT waited; even JT felt nervous now. They could do nothing, besides, the officers probably didn't believe a word Kali's mom said, with the strong smell of alcohol on her breath. So, if they were going to jail, then they were going to jail.

The shorter police officer looked at the hole, puzzled as well. "Damnedest thing that happened today. We had so many calls about this crazy weather. Seemed to come out of nowhere. Looked just like what happened down south a ways. You guys wouldn't be from down there, would you?"

Before the officer finished, Kali's mom chimed in. "Yes—you see? They did the same thing down there. They are from there. They are evil, I tell you—evil."

"Hmmm." The short officer pondered. "I guess I have to ask the question. You two boys don't appear like you ripped the roof off a house and made it snow, then sat in chairs not even out of breath, without a scratch on you, but I'll play." The officer put his palms on the table. "Did you two have anything to do with this?"

JT and Michael answered in unison, their voices forceful and clear, "No, sir."

"Do you boys know anybody who could possibly have done this?" the officer asked.

JT thought about that one. Billy could have done this. JT stared at the journal on the table, then he noticed the corner of a photo protruding. He reached out to pick it up. His heart pounded as he lifted the picture to his face.

He remembered it from the farmhouse, when he first tried to read the journal. It depicted his grandfather and a dark man dressed in ceremonial garb and long feather headdresses; their faces were painted. As JT studied the picture more closely he peered at the eyes of the man his grandfather embraced with one arm. He had seen those eyes before.

JT jerked.

The eyes were looking back at him. JT did not know how or why, but he felt the piercing stare of his grandfather's companion. He turned the picture around and read the caption, "Me and Jato, purification ceremony, 1972."

"That's him, isn't it, Michael?" JT flipped the picture across the table in front of his friend.

Michael held the picture and looked at the two men in the picture. He nodded. His eyes told JT that he knew exactly what JT saw.

"Yes, JT, that's Jato Bindi." He gently flipped the picture around, placed it in front of JT on the table, and pointed to the dark man standing beside his grandfather, grinning ear to ear. "Infamously known as the Munch."

"So are you going to take these heathen criminals to jail or what?" Kali's mom yelled desperately, obviously shaken by her daughter's disappearance. "I want to know where my daughter is!" Her voice broke and tears ran down her face.

The officers could not stop staring at the torn ceiling and talking about the snow. "Ma'am, we have never seen anything like this before. How do you expect us to do anything, even if we could, about this? We have rescued people all over the town. We're just trying to make sense out of what all of this snow is about and how it even got here. We get a call, come out here, and this is what we see. How do we know it wasn't you that caused all of this?"

Gail's jaw dropped. "Because I told you it was these two little—little monsters, that's why. Take them to jail, I tell you." Kali's mom lunged at the officers.

The officers did not retaliate, but simply held her arms so she could not strike. Tears flowed from her eyes.

"You ruined my life!" Kali's mom shouted at JT and Michael. "You made him go crazy! You made him go crazy!" She couldn't control her feelings and began to wail. The officer quietly supported Kali's mom, until her legs gave out. Then the officer guided her back to her chair by the table. She buried her face into one of her palms. The tears washed down her cheeks and arms.

"I just loved him so much. I loved him so much. She was such a good girl, too." Kali's mom wiped her face and slowly regained her composure. "I just miss them. I miss them the way they were before they met those two." Her voice was soft and her throat tightened.

JT and Michael were silent. JT felt a lump building in the back of his throat. With so much more to his story, he feared the emotions he would feel if all his life's memories flooded back. He doubted he could handle the onslaught of visions and information stored in his psyche.

"Are we arrested?" JT asked. He seemed to remember Gregory telling him a thing or two about when the police take you to jail, particularly if they had a legitimate reason to take you.

The officer looked around the room, especially at the lack of ceiling. A call came over his radio, explaining that a group of kids were using the snow as an excuse to rob a strip mall up the road from Kali's house. He answered that call, then placed his hand on JT's shoulder.

"Your lucky day, son."

He turned to Kali's mom. "There is no real evidence that this young man and his friend had anything to do with this." The officer waved his arm around the room. "But if you'd like, my partner here will wait for you to get dressed so that you can go down to the station and place a report about your missing daughter. These two clearly do not have your daughter, so they are free to go." The officer tipped his hat and walked toward the door.

"Well, how do you explain what happened to my house? It had to be them." Gail's begging became louder. She wanted JT and Michael in jail, no matter what she had to do. "They killed that boy so many years ago—talking all strange about magic lands and weird things. It only makes sense they had everything to do with this."

"Ma'am," the officer paused. "I suggest you tell your insurance company it was an act of God—or in this case—" The policeman took a breath. He didn't want to say it, but it fit. "—the Devil."

The officer opened the door and stepped out in to the cold and snow. "My partner here will wait for you so you can go fill out that report at the station, okay? Your daughter is more important now, I hope."

"Of course," Kali's mom answered with a huff. "Of course she is."

JT and Michael eyed the officer who stayed behind. He nodded, so they gathered the papers from the table, strapped the leather journal together and left, making as little noise as possible.

The two walked outside, where the first police officer still stood looking at the house. As JT and Michael passed, he spoke. "I am not sure what happened here today," the officer began. "Whatever it was, I am sure there was a reason for it. Even though Baltimore is a large town, I've heard stories about this family. And it's interesting that you two just happened to be in the two places on the eastern seaboard that had freak snowstorms."

"Coincidence?" JT suggested. He didn't know why he spoke. He just did.

"Good answer, I suppose," the officer replied. "You know, like I said, there are stories around this town about the family here. Her dad went crazy right after they moved in. We got a lot of domestic disturbance calls in those early days. We drew straws to see who had to come out here and calm the mother down. It was all really sad." The officer scratched his chin.

"The story goes that the man just couldn't take it anymore. Somehow his reputation from a previous case followed him here to Maryland. I guess he couldn't get far enough away from his mistakes."

The officer looked JT and Michael over. His eyes told them that he knew more about the case and the two young men in front of him than he was saying. "He went to a crowded mall and pulled a gun out. He didn't shoot. He just stood there waiting for something. It was almost like he wanted the police to find a reason to kill him first. He was scared to pull the trigger on himself, I suppose. People ran at first, but then they went about their business, shopping and eating, almost like they could not have cared less. He just stood there. Soon enough the police walked right up to him, while he stood still as a statue, pointing his gun, and gritting his teeth. He had just shut down.

"He's up at St Mark's Hospital from what I hear. It's a mental institution down off I-95, just south of town. You'll see the signs when you get on the highway and you can't miss it. It's not too far. That is, if you're interested." The officer paused. "He hasn't talked since what happened at the mall, from what I hear. Just looks out the window. Nothing. Some say he got lost in his memories. They say he went to sleep from the world."

The officer gazed back at the house one last time, watching the white snow melt and drip from the rafters of the torn roof in the moonlight. He shook his head. "Shame really. It's not a good sign when police know so much about a family. Like I said, there were a lot of calls when they moved here. Everyone knows about what happened at the mall. I guess, every once in a while, I wonder whatever happened to him—the father, you know?

"Well, back to work. The guys back at the station are never going to believe this." He walked to his car and left.

JT pondered for a second. He wondered if Kali's dad suffered the same way he did. Maybe the pain of his life falling apart caused him to forget things, too. And maybe, just maybe, his brain worked the opposite way—maybe he couldn't forget what he had seen. Maybe Kali's dad, sitting and gazing out the hospital window, drowned in the memories he couldn't forget. In that case, Kali had been right. JT was lucky.

"I don't know why, Michael, but I think we need to go see Kali's dad."

He couldn't decide whether he would just try anything to find any answer about what might be happening or if something—or someone—was telling him to go. It felt a lot like when Billy guided him through Charlie's pyramid palace in Bruinduer.

"What about Kali?" Michael asked. He had known about Kali's dad and his problems; he didn't think that Kali's catatonic father could help them with what lay before them. "I think you know where the Munch has taken Kali. I can guarantee he wants her so he can go back into Bruinduer."

"How do you know that, Michael?" JT wondered if it was true. For all he knew, the Munch wanted to bait JT, not go back into Bruinduer. What would going into Bruinduer accomplish?

Michael answered JT as honestly as possible. "Hello, JT? Nothing would stop me from going back into Bruinduer—you must remember that. This is the Munch, the guy who tricked your grandfather into entering Bruinduer so he could have control, just like Charlie tricked us. It's obvious to me what he wants. I mean, I wanted what Bruinduer could give me—anything. It can give you anything. And that made Charlie go nuts with power. Imagine Bruinduer in the hands of a real madman."

_It's possible_ , JT thought. "I still want to go see Kali's dad. You owe me that much. I just have a feeling—I don't know—that we need to go see him first."

For a second, Michael wondered when JT would forgive him for wanting him dead in Bruinduer. But Michael knew he could never repay JT what he owed him. "Of course, JT. Whatever you need."

"Good," JT answered as they climbed into the big old blue car and headed toward I-95. "You can also tell me what I don't know about the Munch."'

The drive out of the neighborhood and through town was an adventure in itself. The car's old, bald tires slid across the snow-covered asphalt, the long trunk swaying with each skid. JT braced his legs with his feet firmly on the floor in case the car skidded off the road. He thought less about the Munch and more about surviving the trip to the hospital.

Thanks to the weird weather, the police were out in force, but they did not pay too much attention to JT and Michael. They made it to St. Mark's Hospital with no problems except controlling the skidding car, which might have been a snake, given the way it slithered down the road.

JT had no idea why folks always stared at him. Maybe it was his limp, maybe he looked weird to people, or maybe his face told a story that people read and recognized. Right now, pain was clearly written in JT's face, along with a blank stare of despair. He did not want to suffer; he wanted to be happy. Right now, JT's problem was that he had no idea what joy felt like. That was one of many mysteries he needed to solve. All the questions rattling in his thoughts made him seem lost; his expression begged someone, anyone, to help him find out who he really was.

"You boys look like you're lost." The woman's kind voice danced across the reception table. "I hope you are not here because of the snow. I know it is odd, but it really happened. You are not seeing things."

The young lady stood up and looked at them closely. Short and a tad plump, she had a healthy glow to her face from the cold air that rushed through the automatic door nearby. "You all don't look like you're worried about that. My name is Maria and Lord knows we've had a number of people believing they've gone crazy seeing snow come down that fast and just stop." She paused for a second or two. "And isn't it strange that it only snowed in this town and nowhere else?"

"Yeah, that is strange," JT agreed.

"Thank you, Maria," Michael jumped in. "Can you tell us what room Arthur Logan is in, please?"

Maria glanced back at JT and Michael. She read JT's face and, as usual, knew there was a story behind his eyes. She shuffled a few papers and became quiet, her smile and kindness turned to nervousness.

"Why, yes." She cleared her throat. "Arthur is on the fourth floor—but only his wife and daughter are on his visitor list. Why is it you want to see Arthur?" Maria fidgeted, looking quickly back and forth between JT and Michael.

"Well—" Michael started, but JT cut in.

"His daughter," said JT. "We came to tell him about his daughter."

"Oh," Maria said. "She was just here this afternoon. Is something wrong?"

"She was—" JT started, then it was Michael's turn to interrupt.

"What JT meant to say was that we came to tell Arthur that Kal—his daughter forgot to say she'd be back next week."

"Why? He knows she comes back every week." Maria stacked papers nervously.

"Right. Well..." Michael paused.

"Let's just go see him." JT grabbed Michael and walked toward the elevators.

"You can't just go—" This time Maria was interrupted by three people approaching the desk and asking her if they were going crazy or if it really snowed like that.

JT and Michael walked quickly down the hall and into the elevator and pushed the button for the fourth floor. They figured they had five or ten minutes to see Arthur Logan before someone caught them. Hopefully more people would come in and distract authorities.

JT and Michael rode silently to Arthur's floor. JT's heart pounded and his hands trembled. Michael fidgeted, counting the number of floors in his mind, looking at the elevator buttons as each one lit for the floor they passed.

The ride, less than minute, felt like two days. The silver doors slid open and they rushed out, walking briskly. They got out of breath winding around the halls and rooms, reading the names on each door. JT almost forgot the throbbing in his knee.

The rooms were not stereotypical hospital rooms, white and sterile with the smell of strong cleaning solution. These rooms looked more like college dormitory rooms. Each room had a bookcase made of glass and wood, built into the wall outside each patient's door. The shelves held pictures and knickknacks from the patient's past.

JT glanced into the first room and saw a woman older than he, but not terribly old, lying in her bed with the TV on. She gave no outward sign of emotion despite the flickering images on her wall.

If JT had stayed longer, he might have identified with the emptiness of her face and anguished droop of her eyes, like all she wanted to do was cry, but her vacant body would not let her.

JT glanced at the shelf outside her door. A little plaque said, "Lillian Talon's Lifeshelf." JT got a glimpse of a picture of the woman, much younger, smiling, full of spirit and life, surrounded by what looked to be family. In his haste, the only other object he noticed was an old medal with the inscription "Los Angeles, 1984."

The doors and life shelves flew by as they continued, passing pictures and ceramic dolls, records, flags, footballs, an infinite assortment of objects defining who these patients once were. JT kept thinking that the people here suffered from mental illnesses and might never be the same again.

One life shelf caught JT's interest. It held nothing but a diploma.

JT instantly thought of the Shorts' farm. His bedroom walls were empty, too, except for the diploma he earned for being homeschooled by Gregory and Louise. He immediately felt a connection with the person occupying the room. He knew it didn't matter what type of life that patient led, his education, and his sense of accomplishment when he held the crisp piece of paper in his hand, could never be taken away.

JT stared at the piece of paper through the glass. He saw his reflection staring back at him. He read the name. In black, bold calligraphy, it said, "Arthur Paul Logan."

"Michael,"' JT called to his friend. "He's here."

As they stood before the door, JT felt the same emotion as when he stood in front of the mahogany door in Warhead Dale. If he pushed the door open, what would he find?

JT knocked ever so softly. He heard a faint voice, the same voice he heard in his dreams, the voice he heard in the basement of his grandfather's chalet. "Do it."

JT turned the metal knob and the lock clicked. The door swung open without a sound. Unlike the other rooms on the floor, this one did remind JT of a sterile hospital room. The walls were bare and white, the bed neatly made with blue sheets and blankets. The cold white ceramic floor smelled like Clorox; JT's nostrils flared.

Alone, sitting in a glider, staring out a window into the blue sky, was Arthur Paul Logan. His empty eyes did not stray from their point of focus. His brown hair was unkempt and he held his robe tight with his hands in his pockets, and his feet were covered only with blue socks with white foot grips on the bottom. He appeared old, his skin wrinkled and dried from the hospital soap.

JT looked upon the man with pity. He did not know why, but he felt a kinship with the man. Though he would probably never know, he bet he could guess what might be lurking in his thoughts. He had been alone on the farm, empty and wondering.

JT's voice caught, but he got the words out. "Mr. Logan."

The man did not reply.

"It's me—JT Davis."

Nothing.

"Me and Michael Peterson here," Michael waved his hand at Arthur, who did not react. "We came to see you. I don't know if you remember all that happened back then." JT figured that was a stupid statement. If Arthur didn't remember what had happened in the past, why would he be there? Kali's mom specifically stated Kali's dad was in the ward because of the incident. "But something has happened and, whether you understand or not, I think you deserve to know."

Arthur kept staring.

"Your daughter Kali..."

Nothing. The chair glided back and forth.

"Your daughter Kali was taken by a monster known as the Munch. If you remember the story we must have told you so long ago about my grandfather, ol' Captain Luke, and his house and the time you defended Michael here for Charlie's death—well, if you didn't have enough proof then, let me tell you that all of the stories about Bruinduer are true."

JT thought hard, his brain working overtime. He kept speaking, whether what he said was correct or in order or not. He did not care. "I lost my memory back then, so I don't remember any of it. I don't remember the stories about the old house and, when Michael came to me at first, I didn't even believe it, but I went there. I went to Bruinduer. I saw Charlie. He was alive. I talked to Billy and Michael changed the world. We went to war—it was a horrifying experience, but amazing at the same time.

"I met Kali again, too. You would be proud of her. She was so strong back in Bruinduer. She helped us fight and defeat Charlie. I'm sure you wanted to see Charlie, but he died in Bruinduer. Then I started reading my grandfather's journal about the Munch, how he was a monster, and what he did to villages and people in Africa as my grandfather hunted him down. I recently learned that he tricked my grandfather into going to Bruinduer to help him get as much power as possible.

"It's true and, what's worse, I got Kali in trouble, because he's back. I don't know how he's back, but the Munch is back. He came and took Kali because I made her steward of the key. The only way you can get back to Bruinduer is if you have the key and Kali is the steward. He took her so he can go back into Bruinduer.

"I know why he wants to get back into Bruinduer. He can have anything he wants. Bruinduer can give you what you want." JT took a breath.

Michael stood silently. He felt guilty as well. If he had never gone back to Bruinduer, none of this would have happened.

"We've got to go stop him from going back to Bruinduer. We need to get to Kali before that happens. I know you probably can't hear a thing I've said, but, for some reason, I thought you should know." JT placed his hand on Arthur Logan's shoulder. Arthur's stare remained blank.

JT hoped that, after hearing the plight of his daughter, the man would snap out of his trance. But suddenly he knew exactly how Arthur felt. It didn't matter what anyone told JT, either. He wouldn't remember it. He sighed. He and Michael started to walk out of the room.

Over the sounds of the metal door handle, JT heard it. "Wait."

Faint but very clear, the raspy whisper cut through the air.

JT and Michael froze. He didn't know if someone else was in the room or if his mind was tricking him into hearing the word he wanted to hear. Michael gazed at JT and JT back at Michael. Their raised eyebrows questioned their sanity and hearing.

JT turned back. Arthur Logan moved for the first time since they had entered. His body turned toward JT and Michael and he cocked his head, his face glum. "Take me with you."

JT did not hesitate. "Yes, sir." Adrenaline shot through his veins.

"JT how can we...?" Michael asked, but JT moved quickly.

"No time for thinking, Michael. Let's get out of here." JT moved to Arthur's dresser.

Arthur pointed and JT got out clothes. A smile washed over the limping man's face.

Though leaving the hospital could turn out terribly, JT got an instant rush from the action. He picked up a duffel bag and shoved in Arthur's belongings. He threw clothes, socks, and shoes to Arthur, who dressed himself. It seemed that Kali's dad had awoken from a deep slumber. He did not move fast, but he persevered until he had on his clothes.

Michael peered outside the door. Security would be upon them any minute. The thought of going to jail for kidnapping crossed his mind. Then, JT and Arthur locked arms. They moved as a unit. JT's bum knee hindered him, but he and Arthur supported each other.

"JT!" Michael whispered urgently. "How are we going to get out of here?"

Just as Michael asked the question, they heard a large number of footsteps on the floor, around the corner. Walkie-talkies blared through the corridors.

"Move!" JT ordered.

Arthur didn't have much stamina. JT flung the man's arm around his shoulders and tossed the duffel bag to Michael.

After one quick look down the hall to the right, they took off to the left as fast as they could. It was exhilarating. JT had to catch his breath as he dragged Arthur down the corridor. Michael checked behind them every few feet as they struggled and limped through the hall.

Oddly, the nurses watched them pass and did nothing to stop their progress. The nurses either didn't know what to think of the escaping trio or couldn't believe that they were actually attempting the get away.

As Arthur, Michael, and JT rounded the last corner to the elevator, they heard the door of Arthur's room slam open. A man yelled, "Lock it down! Lock it down! Lock the hospital down now!"

A few seconds later, an alarm went off. Red lights flashed in the halls of the asylum. Bells and sirens screeched. Doors slammed and locked around the three people now trying to escape. Some patients began to scream.

JT faced forward, focused on dragging Arthur along. He did not know why, but Arthur seem to gain strength. Before he knew it, Arthur was helping JT move along as well, guiding him out of the hospital. Arthur might have spent some time noting ways to escape if it came down to it.

JT and Michael started toward the elevators, but Arthur pulled them toward the stairs. The hospital shut off power to the elevators during a lockdown.

The alarms continued blaring.

Arthur calmly guided them past the first stairwell and led them to another stairwell in the back of the hospital. JT figured the doors to the stairs would automatically lock, but then he realized that would turn the hospital into a death trap in case of a fire. Apparently, the safety protocol was the same for both events at the hospital. The doors stayed unlocked.

When the alarm had sounded, patients scattered into the hall and common rooms. Staff ran about trying to guess who was escaping. Chaos ensued.

Meanwhile, Arthur, JT, and Michael slipped out a very innocent looking door labeled "Stairs" and flew down the four flights. JT felt like they tore down the steps in seconds. When they reached the bottom, Michael flung open the door. Standing in front of them was a very familiar, plump woman.

Maria crossed her arms. Behind her waited an unassuming fire exit tucked in the back corner of the ground floor of the hospital. The handle was rigged to set off an alarm when opened, but with the hospital alarms screaming, it would have made no difference. The door led to a bank of trees and would have been the perfect cover for anyone who wanted to disappear.

"Going somewhere, Arthur?" Maria's voice was kind, but her sense of urgency was palpable.

JT had no idea what to do. Michael stood silently. Now time stood still. They each listened to their own loud, heavy breathing as both sides thought about what to do next and who would flinch.

JT knew the three men could overcome Maria, but, on moral grounds, they would not. The silence felt thick.

Arthur caught his breath and raised his head, his eyes soft. "Please." It was not loud, but loud enough to reach Maria's ears. Her eyes shot wide open.

"What?" Maria asked.

"I need to be with my daughter." Arthur reached out and placed his free hand on Maria's shoulder. His touch resonated with the woman. She looked into Arthur's eyes and felt his sincerity. She smiled and stepped to the side.

"Thank you," JT mouthed as he walked past her.

Arthur slid his hand from the woman's shoulder. Michael smiled, his face pink from all the exercise. The three of them walked out of the hospital free.

# Chapter 13

Arthur laid down in the backseat of the big blue car. The engine hummed and rain poured down, slapping against the canvas roof with a symphonic beat that lulled him to sleep.

JT looked back at Kali's father and wondered what he dreamt about. He had too much thinking to do to sleep himself. Technically they were on the run, but he felt confident that the government would not waste resources searching for a harmless patient who escaped from a hospital. Who knows, maybe Arthur had admitted himself and he could have left at any time anyway.

JT did not worry. He knew the Munch had come to Maryland to _take_ Kali since she was the steward of the key. He could only guess how the evil man knew that, but it was the only way the villain could get back into Bruinduer. He thought quickly, hoping that the Munch would not hurt Kali. He remembered a dream with his grandfather on the deck of the _Mary Maid_ telling him that people could relinquish their power in many ways. He could not relinquish his power by thinking about the worst, about what harm might come to Kali. He just hoped he could get back to Warhead Dale before anything terrible happened.

The weather turned thick. The water painted the windshield so Michael could hardly see in front of him. Luckily they managed to make out the sign for an exit that had lodging.

"I just can't see anything right now, JT. I've got to stop," Michael said as he gripped the steering wheel.

JT agreed without dispute.

The room, a normal hotel room, contained two double beds. JT cuddled up on a borrowed cot. Arthur had not said much of anything when JT and Michael helped him into the bed. They had exchanged glances, wondering if they should undress their guest, but decided to lay him down and cover him, fully dressed.

Michael flipped channels, unable to find a show he would watch.

JT reached for his grandfather's journal. He felt warm underneath the blankets. Despite the unmistakable smell of a hotel room—some mixture of cleaner and dirt—he actually felt comfortable. He rubbed his fingers over the journal's leather cover. He couldn't imagine the adventures it must have seen. For the last couple of days, he'd thrown it about, much like he had treated his cane in the beginning, when he did not know what it was.

He still wished he could remember what was written in the pages, but he felt the book was a part of his past, a very important part.

"Find September 16th, 1946," Michael suggested, still clicking the remote as the TV screen flashed. "There you will find a very important day."

September 16, 1946

There are no words to describe what I have experienced—the realism, the majesty, the horror, the pain, the adventure.

This world known as Bruinduer is probably the most important find in archeological history. I have no idea where to start my story. The only observation I am able to express is that, undeniably, God exists. How can I even begin to explain the experience of entering this magical land? The answer is more of an intangible-tangible knowledge. I know that is cryptic, but I have no other words.

Kwaida, the God of Bruinduer, is no God of Bruinduer. He is God, of this I have no doubt. What else could he be? There are stories of how the tribe that created this land bound an Essence to do their bidding. I have come to believe that story developed over time to give mankind more credit than they deserve. For man would have none of the knowledge needed to create a world. The variables are infinite. But that does lead to a question; why then would God create another world for a select group of people? One can only guess and guessing God's reasons is futile.

Those paragraphs only begin to tell the story. Anyone going through the door from Bruinduer back into our world of origin would find the same adventure and questions leading to the answer: God.

The Munch had no idea what to expect. Evidently he believed that this would be a world he could control, much like our earthly world, where men, despite their unlimited vanity, find out that they have no power at all. All control rests in the creator.

I may be biased, for all I know I may be wrong, but I know what I experienced, what I felt. Kwaida moved his heart. Kwaida moved my heart. He reconciled good and evil, bringing us together. I do not know why. My only wish now, as I return into this world I know, full of destruction, is that the same will also be true here. May God heal our hurting planet.

JT read on through the night. Every once in a while, he glanced up at Michael, who sat staring at the TV. The tension in his face as he changed channels told JT that his friend knew exactly what he was reading.

It made him even angrier that he could not remember anything. He glared at the ceiling and tried to catch hold of some sort of memory, tried to catch the amber haze he experienced at Warhead Dale and in Triton.

He looked at Arthur sleeping peacefully, soundlessly. Once again, he imagined what might be going through the scrambled mind of Kali's dad. Whatever horror or peace he found, he did not show any emotion.

He focused on the pages before him. Could it be true that Billy was actually God? The real God? The one Gregory and Louise talked about on the farm?

He read about his grandfather's battles against the Munch in the land of Bruinduer. Ol' Captain Luke described a land, much like the jungles of Africa, with temples and cities made of pure gold. He told of endless pits of despair and a large valley much like the deserts of Godwin and Triton where wars took place. The old man told of hunting the Munch within Bruinduer and how many of his men died.

JT read about Kwaida guiding Luke, showing up in the most unexpected places as a rock or a bird. He remembered how Billy came to him as a rat when he was in the Triton pyramid. The story was all too familiar.

He also read about how the Munch expected his God to show up as some great vision or strong, invincible force and how he sacrificed many people to make that happen. He also read how the Munch worshipped and praised Kwaida, holding many festivals and creating large temples, like cathedrals, to win his favor. When Kwaida seemed to ignore his pleas and sacrifices, the Munch became more impatient and more and more wars ensued. More and more people died. The Munch built and destroyed cities, trying to impress Kwaida with each attempt, only to fail.

JT glanced at Michael. He'd fallen asleep.

JT flipped through the pages. The information was almost more than he could fathom or even try to process. One question percolated in his mind. If he knew these things when he was fourteen, then why, in any world or any state of mind, would he even consider entering a world he could never control? A world that held such atrocities?

He thought of Michael. Bruinduer could give him anything he wanted and, for some forsaken reason, it was worth the price to him. The earthly world just might be the same.

The night lingered. The sounds outside of the hotel shifted JT's thoughts to what was taking place in the world. Certainly there were people in more pain than he; he could not stop thinking about their suffering. Were his problems trying to get to Kali in any way, shape, or form more important than anyone else's concerns at that very moment under the same moonlight?

He laid the journal on the table beside him and fell asleep.

What seemed like only a second later, a grinding, hollow voice startled JT. "Wake up, sleeper." The cold air stung his legs. He sat straight up and gasped for air. The crispness of each breath dried the back of his throat.

The room was quiet. Both Michael and Arthur lay peacefully bundled in their beds with not a worry in the world. JT realized though that their situation might change dramatically by the end of the day; he could not possibly know where he would end up by the time the sun set. So many things can change in the afternoon.

He woke up his traveling partners and, after exchanging morning pleasantries, they got ready to go.

When Arthur sat up in his bed wearing yesterday's clothes, Michael and JT repeatedly asked him if he needed anything. He said nothing, staring straight ahead and rocking back and forth.

Michael laid the key on the dresser and they left, piling into the big old blue car and heading toward Athens Eden.

JT, with his constant carsickness, tried to look at his grandfather's journal. He wanted to ask Michael what the rest of the book said, however, Michael was known not to tell JT the truth, so he kept his mouth shut. Arthur didn't say a word the entire time. Every once in a while, he would grunt as he moved, but nothing understandable.

With no conversation, JT fiddled around with the radio knobs and found a country music station. To his surprise, he fell asleep with his head against the door.

JT's mind swam. He had wedged his body into the passenger's seat as comfortably as possible. Now he lay in between sleep and consciousness, so, if he were dreaming, he did not know. He heard a deep voice in his head, but he did not think it was Billy. But he could never be sure.

"This reporter has never seen anything like this before. This is the second time in the last few days that snow has fallen at the beach and what makes this so remarkable is that the snow only falls within the confines of town. No other areas are affected."

Another voice rang out. "What do you know about the weather in Maryland? Is there any connection?"

"It is hard to say," the deep voice answered. "We have talked to the weather service and there is no clear-cut answer. Basically, they will not comment until they have time to do more research.'

"What is the government saying?"

"Much of what we are getting from the weather service—nothing."

"Well, I just don't know what to say, but what I do know is that authorities in Athens Eden are asking folks to be very careful. They also state that the weather may be unusual, but it is a very nice snowy day here at the beach—and only the beach. So, in honor of the occasion, here is a little tune for you winter wonderland lovers."

"Wake up!" JT heard. His eyes snapped open. "JT, wake up, it happened again and that can only mean one thing—the Munch has come back to Athens Eden."

JT sat up. As the big old blue car rolled inside the town limits, he saw that one foot of fresh snow covered everything.

"Oh, wow," JT said.

Arthur placed his face near the window and looked, his breath fogging the glass. The snow blanketing the ground and covering the trees sent a cool breeze through the cracks of the car door. Though the snow was beautiful to the eye and the air was fresh to the nose, JT knew something sinister was behind this winter paradise.

Police lined the roads, checking in with those who came in and out of Athens Eden. The big old blue car slowly stopped in front of the police officers.

"Where you boys coming from? Do I know you?" The officer stared in curiosity at the strange trio in the big blue car.

"I don't think so, sir," Michael answered in the lowest tone he could muster. His right arm trembled. From that, JT knew Michael recognized the police officer.

The officer paused for a minute, thinking, then waved them on into Athens Eden. "This snow has been strange the last few days. We are advising folks to stay indoors and only travel if they must."

"Yes, sir," Michael said.

The officer paused as Arthur faced in his direction. They could almost see the light turning on in his brain when he recognized the former pillar of the community. He took a startled breath, then looked down. In the end, he simply stepped back and waved them on, as though it would be too much trouble if he said anything. "Go ahead and go, but get to where you're getting quick."

"Okay," Michael answered. The big blue car rolled down the snowy street with a grumble.

"We gotta go to the diner and check on Linda, JT. I just don't like this at all."

JT nodded. Hundreds of thoughts passed through his brain, but he knew that the Munch had come back to Athens Eden and it was obvious to him that the villain was in Warhead Dale.

Children played in the snow outside the houses they passed. Everyone appeared to be happy about the weather, everyone except the authorities. Some roads were blocked, forcing Michael had to navigate through some back roads where people recognized Michael's big blue car. Like before, they stopped to stare at him with disapproving eyes. Michael and JT concentrated on the road, choosing not to notice. Soon they pulled into Linda's diner.

When they stepped out of the car into freshly laid snow, the chilly air smelled different, not as salty—fresh.

When they entered the diner, the silver bell overhead chimed and the smell of warm food filled the air. Jenny hopped off a stool and ran toward Michael, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him gently on the cheek.

"What the—?" JT mumbled. "Really?"

He felt a tinge of envy. He had felt close to Jenny in the time they spent at the courthouse and, in some way, he had hoped that she felt the same. He knew his heart belonged to Kali, but his selfishness was getting the better of him. He wanted to feel happy that Michael had finally found someone, but jealousy still nagged at him.

Jenny hugged JT, which felt great. Then she let go, taking Michael's hand. The envy returned.

"Is this Kali's dad?" Jenny asked.

"Yes," Michael answered. "I didn't think it was a good idea to bring him back here, but JT wanted it."

Arthur sat down at the counter.

JT felt angry. "I don't know why I snuck him out of there, but—"

"You kidnapped him?" Jenny shrieked. JT hunched his shoulders and squinted at the sound.

"Calm down," JT snapped. "I just acted; I don't know why I grabbed him. He wanted to come. He actually talked to the lady blocking the door and she let us by."

"There was a lady blocking the door?" Jenny's voice rose even louder.

"What in the—?" Linda Peterson appeared from the back kitchen. "Arthur? Arthur Logan? Is that you?" Linda rushed over to Arthur. Arthur's head perked up; he smiled and began rocking a little faster.

"It's so good to see you!" Linda exclaimed.

Arthur reached his hand out to Linda and took hers. He nodded as they both smiled from ear to ear.

Linda stayed with Arthur for a minute, then went to Michael. "What is he doing here? You know he does not need to be here, right?"

"I know. It was JT," Michael retorted. "He's the one that snuck him out of the hospital."

"It wasn't like that, Lin—" JT tried to defend himself.

"I don't care what it was like. He needs to get back to Maryland. Kali is going to be furious when she finds out that he's gone." Linda was firm in her statement.

"Well." JT paused. "I am pretty sure that Kali is here in Athens Eden."

"Really? Where?" Linda became agitated.

"That's a good question. I mean, I have an answer, but I'm not sure you want to know." JT sat at the counter beside Arthur.

"I know all about that house, JT," Linda began, sniffing with a bit of assertiveness. Though no one was at the counter and nothing had spilled, she wiped the top with vigor.

JT had no idea what to say. "Well."

Linda wiped the counter a little quicker, then moved to the tables while he thought.

"If you do know about the house and everything that goes along with it, then you know some bad things might happen." JT tried to be a cryptic as possible.

Linda stared at Arthur, pointing toward him with her rag. "Yeah, JT, I know. I wish you'd just tell me what is going on—if anyone deserves it, it's Arthur."

JT nodded. He had no idea why he would hide anything. "It's Kali. She's been taken by a madman called the Munch."

As soon as JT mentioned Kali, Arthur made some sort of grunting noise and pointed his face to the ceiling.

Linda wiped even harder, breathing heavily. "I assume—and I wish I was wrong—that this snowy weather is because of all of whatever is going on?"

"Uh-huh...yeah." JT coughed. "I think that would be a safe assumption."

Michael and Jenny tensed, waiting for Linda's reaction.

"What are you going to do about it?" Linda asked, once she caught her breath and made her way back behind the counter.

"Try to get her, I guess," JT answered.

"Well, so what are you guys doing here? You have something you need to be doing now, don't you think?" Linda stared at JT. JT took a deep breath.

"You wanna come?" he asked. His voice cracked.

"Me? Oh, no. I'm not going to that house. No way." Linda began to wipe the counter again. "And you're not taking Arthur, either."

Arthur took Linda's hand and stopped her from wiping. His face was still blank, but his eyes were alive. "I'm going." He managed to say the words, though they came out slow and spitty.

Surprised by Arthur's reaction, Linda looked at him the way the hospital receptionist had. She saw something in his eyes that reflected and explained his seriousness.

"Well...okay," Linda answered very quickly.

"I'm going, too." Jenny spoke up.

"What?" Michael began. "No! It's too dangerous."

"You don't think I can handle it? Is that it, Michael? You couldn't figure out how to find some of those documents in the library, but you still helped. Are you saying that I can't handle whatever's happening in Warhead Dale?" She shook her hand out of Michael's, pushed him away, and crossed her arms in disbelief.

"What I meant—" Michael started, but JT interrupted.

"Michael, just stop. She's going. No way around it. I know from experience." JT remembered Kali scolding him when he asked her not to go into battle.

JT asked Linda to make them a parting meal; they would leave in the morning. They had fun while they prepared, pushing the gravity of the situation to the back of their minds. They knew they would need a good meal and good night's rest to be ready for whatever faced them, wherever they came out on the other side of the mahogany door. For there was no doubt that they would go to Bruinduer in the morning.

JT didn't talk to anyone as he climbed in the bed in the back room of Linda's diner. He felt like an astronaut preparing to go into the unknown.

Michael left, taking Jenny and Arthur to Linda's house for the evening.

JT was all alone. Somehow in a little bit of his soul, he liked solitude. It was the only place that made sense sometimes. He did like Michael's company, but being alone to ponder his life and where he was going—because he could never remember where he had been—gave him comfort. There was no one he had to impress, just him, his thoughts, a forgotten past, and a journal he could barely understand.

He realized that Captain Luke hunted for the Munch, but what was the larger picture? Had his grandfather stumbled on something that the old sailor couldn't understand, either? And Billy was God? The real God?

His grandfather's writing was cryptic at best and gibberish at worst. Ol' Captain Luke had wanted others to read it, but to what end?

JT unbuckled the old journal and pulled the lose pages out, shifting through the familiar pictures. His grandfather had a life well-lived, without a doubt. He turned to the first page and read the words, "Dear Reader..."

Then he quickly flipped to the back of the book, to the last entry. There was a clear beginning to the story, so surely there would be an end.

April 15, 1984

Dear James,

I am sorry that I have failed you so. For some reason I thought that my own fortune and searching for the mahogany door was more important than you.

I want you to know that, though you may never forgive me for what I have done, I wish and hope that you be the reader of this journal. I know it is not much and I know you are not mentioned in the pages of the story until now, but it is all that I have to offer in return for a chance of forgiveness.

I do love you, son. I just never knew how to show it. I have found that God's love is not for me only, but for me to share His grace with you. The adventure would have been priceless with you by my side, but, sadly, the price of this adventure will be a sum I cannot repay.

Please show JT the real way to be a father. Make sure he is in whatever adventures you may decide to embark on, by your side and not in spirit.

The door is yours, my son. Learn to use its power to show JT that God does exist, for, at this time and in this place, I have only actually seen Him there. But be careful, too, for God is sovereign. He does as He wishes. Always remember that.

Allow me to correct one thing; I have seen God in this world, if not in flesh. I forget sometimes and I am sorry for that, but I have seen God in your eyes.

Whatever happens, you will always be in my heart.

Always,

Dad

JT shut the journal. He did not know what to think. He wanted to remember, but he felt helpless as always. What was he doing?

_Kali_ , he thought. _I have to get to Kali._ A tear rolled down his cheek. Why was life so full of uncertainty?

He fell back and turned off the lights. As he had on so many dark nights, he stared out the window toward the sky. The moon showered its beams on him, lighting up the white snow and outlining the entire town it seemed. He wished the world could stay like that—still, peaceful, beautiful.

Before long his eyes shut. Something waited for him behind his eyelids, something named Billy.

# Chapter 14

JT felt cold—and not just the cold of a typical winter's day. This icy bitterness froze the very flesh beneath the skin. He hugged himself as he shivered. For every warm puff of air he exhaled, he inhaled frigid air that froze his saliva to slush, nearly solid ice. He could not see his breath, though, for there was no light. He looked around the total blackness, but could only make out phantom movement about him. He tried to move his legs, but they were frozen stiff to whatever ground was beneath him. His feet were numb.

Time stood still. He felt emptiness within him, a void that somehow, no matter what he tried, could not be filled.

A laugh rang out in the icy darkness. He knew the laugh all too well. _Billy._

"Hello, boy." Deep and smooth, the words reverberated through JT's insides. "Hmmm. It's been a while."

JT tried to open his mouth, but found he was too cold to speak. His teeth chattered and he made a noise like a sputtering motorboat engine. "Bluh, bluh, whur, ha, be, bluh brr."

The dark laugh exploded. JT would have covered his ears if he could have.

"Evil is back," the voice bellowed. "Of course, that is not really true. Evil has always been here and, unfortunately, it will be a long time before it can be defeated." The voice paused. "What I really meant to say was that evil is back in Bruinduer after a long time."

"What about Ch-harlie?" JT managed to squeeze out through his chattering teeth.

"Charlie was not evil, my boy. Charlie was a misguided young man who made some bad decisions. He really didn't know he was doing something bad. No, my young friend, evil has a much different character. Evil knows exactly what it is doing." Billy's voice became softer. "I never thought it would come back to the land behind the door."

"How are you here? The door was shut." As JT's thought process tried to return, he found he had a lot of questions.

"It's open." Billy chuckled.

"Why can't you just take care of it? You are all-powerful, right?" JT's voice became clearer.

"It's more fun to use you, my boy. It's just more interesting that way."

"What if I say no? What if I decline? Is it really necessary for all of this?" JT rubbed his arms. The cold made the tips of his fingers hard and dry.

"If you say no, then I believe Kali will continue to suffer. And it is necessary to show you the meaning of evil, to show you its loneliness, to let you feel its solitary, bitter bite."

Billy waited while JT's mind raced.

"What can get rid of it?" JT asked. His legs were almost completely numb.

"I am so glad you asked." Billy's silky voice calmed JT's heart. Was Billy actually God? He didn't sound like a loving God; he sounded like he liked to use people to play games. _He likes to play games._ JT thought of Kali.

A pinhole of light opened in the distance and then, like someone raised a dimmer switch, the light grew and grew. In an instant, the entire space flashed white and JT felt its warmth. He felt a love penetrate him like he had never felt before. One moment he felt as cold as the deepest cave and emptiest hole—as cold as evil. The next moment, his body was whole, warm, and free from the bondage.

"Wake up, sleeper," someone whispered again. He did not know where it came from, but his eyes popped open.

The sun's rays shone through the small room's window. He flipped the comforter from his now warm body.

In front of the diner, JT met Michael and Jenny by the big old blue car with Arthur tucked away in the backseat.

The snow that had fallen the day before was melting and the drip of water echoed throughout the streets, almost like rain. The air, a bit heavier than the day before, once again carried the thick aroma of salt.

"Jenny's not coming,"' JT said as he put his grandfather's journal beside Arthur. "I'm not so sure that Arthur should be going, either. Who knows how he will be in Bruinduer; he could seriously slow us down. If you bleed in that place, you bleed, remember?"

JT spoke bluntly. He did not care how the group reacted. He did not know what to expect of himself when he would step through the door. The more he thought about that, the more he felt Michael shouldn't even go with him.

"I told you, JT, I'm going and there's nothing you can do about it," Jenny stated.

"I don't want to argue."

"There's nothing to argue about. I'm going." Jenny crossed her arms and huffed. She stood with one hip cocked and one leg to the side; JT thought there was something familiar about that.

Finally, JT relented. He knew he would not win the argument. "Fine. Just so you know, I cannot guarantee your safety." He climbed back into the backseat with Arthur.

"Fine," Jenny answered sharply.

"I still don't think Arthur should go. I mean, he hasn't said anything the whole trip. He just stares out the window."

Arthur's hand slammed on top of JT's. Startled, JT stared back at the old man.

"You, too?" JT asked. He retrieved his hand from Arthur and sulked. "I can't make any decisions around here. I thought I was some kind of general in that expedition commission or something?"

Arthur chuckled.

"We need to go. Kali is suffering." JT said it in a rush. "We should have gone last night."

Arthur took a deep, pained breath and sighed.

"How do you know Kali is suffering?" Jenny asked.

"Billy," JT answered, his voice sharp.

"You talked to Billy?" Michael asked as he and Jenny climbed into the car. "When?"

"Never mind. I talked to him." JT rubbed his arms, remembering the cold of his dream.

"Well, what did he say?" Michael's voice was high.

"I told you. Can we go?"

Fright filled JT's veins. He gripped his grandfather's journal. If they faced anything like the Munch, this would be much more dangerous than going against Charlie. Billy said explicitly that the Munch was evil. JT knew he needed to get Kali out of Bruinduer, but three more people added variables to an already volatile and enormously dangerous quest. He just didn't want anyone else to die in his grandfather's house.

Imagining what the people in town would think if he came back and even more people had died, including the man they had run out of town, made JT's head hurt. If that happened, he almost hoped he'd be one who didn't return.

The thought of the Munch running amok in the real world crossed his mind, too. The monster already could make it snow in the human world and, according to the journal, had the ability to decimate entire villages. JT lucky that the Munch wanted to go back to Bruinduer this time, rather than unleash his terrors in Athens Eden.

Michael cranked the big old blue car and with a deafening bang, the four adventurers headed toward the coast and Warhead Dale.

Linda passed them on their way out as she pulled into the diner to open for breakfast. Her tires kicked a mixture of snow and rock behind the car. She waved and shook her head as they turned out of the parking lot and rumbled down the road.

JT's mind wandered. There was never any way to know what might happen to them as they went back through the mahogany door into Bruinduer. He searched his mind for the rules, even just rule number one.

Michael said, "We're here." The car slid to a stop at the gate and backfired.

JT wrenched his grandfather's journal. The once green and vibrant vines that covered the gate were brown and shriveled in winter. He could see very faintly through the iron bars. The sun poked its rays over the large house, reflecting off of the white snow, now starting to melt and reveal plumes of wilted grass.

JT launched himself out of the car, opened the gate, and let Michael pull into the drive.

Back in the car, JT glanced at Arthur, who had his nose plastered to the side window. The inside of the car had the quiet intensity of a team getting ready to play the big game.

As they pulled up to the large hole where the big oak doors once stood, JT felt a lightheaded flash of excitement.

The daylight makes everything look different and every task seem possible. JT would get Kali back. In the back of his mind, he also thought of destroying the mahogany when he returned with Kali. He recalled meeting his grandfather on the _Mary Maid_ in his dreams. The old sailor said that he should have demolished the wooden slab himself, when he had the chance so many years ago.

"Man, this house is so cool!" Jenny shouted.

JT had no idea what she saw in it; he could only see the secrets and the tragedies in its past. And who knew what might show up next if they survived this trip?

JT wasted no time, but headed straight down the long hallway to the small elevator. Arthur grunted and smacked his lips, making some weird clicking noise. Michael did not say a word, except to herd Jenny along. She kept pointing up at the walls and commenting on the woodwork and faded pictures.

JT's breath pounded as he pushed the green button. The little door flung open and the four of them piled into the cramped little room, scuffling around to get comfortable. Jenny could not believe the house had an elevator and Arthur continued clicking.

JT shifted, reaching around to push the red button. The small wooden door slapped shut and the entire elevator went dark and silent. A moment later, the elevator dropped.

Perhaps it was the weight of the four people, but the elevator did not grind and squeak its way down the shaft; it fell. JT felt his feet start to lift the ground. They all gasp in unison; Arthur clicked.

Right before the elevator slammed into the floor of the basement, some sort of emergency brake activated and the little room decelerated. They all piled onto each other as the elevator halted with a thud.

Arthur said, "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow."

The heap of bodies on the floor squirmed around until they were able to get to their feet. The daylight gave way to the darkness of the basement of Warhead Dale. They heard the distinct drip of water and their feet splashed across the floor.

The map wall that JT remembered was open, revealing the inner room and the mahogany door. He did not know what it was, but the room looked different than he remembered it. Maybe he had changed, but the room looked dirty. It had no stars across the walls and ceilings. The symbols he did see on the wall made no sense to him. Papers and books were stren across the floor; much how it looked when he entered with Michael now only a month or so ago.

"What's up with this?" JT started. "This is not what I remember."

"Don't know, but, by the looks of it, they may not have even returned to Bruinduer." Michael walked across the threshold and toward the mahogany door.

It did not have the same magnetism it had before, but when he looked more closely, Michael realized his mistake. "Sorry." He reached for the handle, because JT's cane rested snugly in the lock. "They are back there." Michael stepped back to look at the door again. "Well, I think they are back there, but there is no image carved in the circle on the door."

"It just was more, more..." JT paused, thinking of the word.

Jenny and Arthur joined them, stepping around small puddles on the floor. Still mesmerized by the house, Jenny placed her hand on the smooth wooden circle in the middle of the door, then jerked it back. "Wow!" she squealed, her voice climbing a few octaves. She shook her hand.

"What's wrong?" Michael asked, grabbing her hand.

"Not sure." Jenny looked at her hand. "It burns."

Michael turned Jenny's palm toward him. He took in a large breath. "Oh man, are you okay?" He kissed her palm. "JT, come here and look at this."

"What was that? Are you okay?"

"Look." Michael showed JT Jenny's hand.

Burned into her hand was an image of a medieval castle with a thick, high wall around it and a tall tower with one window. A flag flew over the tower and a pair of large, dark eyes could be seen in the far background.

"Magical," JT whispered.

A large laugh boomed from a distance. They could not tell where it was, but they knew who it was.

"Billy's here." JT looked around the room, at the ceiling, then at the large orange chair in the corner.

He opened the journal, flipping to the neat stack of the loose pages in the back. He flipped through them and, when he found what he was looking for, he dropped the journal nonchalantly on top of his duffel bag on the floor. "Everybody come over here." JT motioned for everyone to gather round.

In a small circle in the middle of the inner room, in front of the mahogany door, JT began his poem.

Slip the soul between space and time

Where up is down and five is nine

The floor rattled. Floorboards pried up their nails and then slapped back down.

Place the palm upon the door

Enter the universe upon its shore

The scattered books and papers vibrated on the floor and shelves. Some books tore loose, flew across the room, then fell to the shaking wood planks, only to be catapulted back into the air by the popping wood.

Arthur mumbled the poem the best he could, keeping time with JT. Jenny, unable to read the bouncing, shaking page spouted out words in no particular cadence, guessing at some and repeating the rest half a second after JT. JT pulled the paper close to him and did not try to share. For some reason he knew the others would catch up with him soon enough and say the poem without effort.

In a village or on a beach

Nothing there is out of reach

Arthur grew more coherent as each line was spoken. His face came alive. The sadness that weighted down the wrinkles of his face broke; his cheeks filled with color and his eyes became bright.

Michael kept pace with JT as he spoke. He knew the poem like the back of his hand.

After a few seconds, confirming what JT thought, Jenny glanced at Michael in alarm; her words were not her own. Concerned, eyes wide, she grabbed Michael's hand.

Take me where I cannot go

Make me a king or let it snow

The entire house felt like it was going to fall down. JT glanced at the mahogany door. None could hear their voices, but they continued to recite the poem nonetheless. Blue, white, and yellow light danced behind the wooden slab, its rays slipping through out from time to time, like light through a glass of water, filling the room with beams of wavy radiance. The eyes on the cane blazed hot red, like glowing coals.

Billy, please hear our beckoning

For in Bruinduer, you are the Reckoning.

The shaking stopped in an instant. The cane's eyes blew out like candles. The four travelers huddled in their little circle, peeking out and then slowly gazing around the inner room.

Every nerve Michael, JT, Jenny, and Arthur had fired with tension. Fear engulfed them. No one knew what might happen next. Was it over?

White light appeared, outlining the massive mahogany door, beaming onto the travelers' faces. Arthur's eyes grew large and a smile crept across his face. Tears filled his eyes.

Without warning, the wall of the inner room slammed shut. The light around the door vanished. Silence echoed in the blackness of the inner room.

"What now?"

"I don't—"

An intense light flashed violently, making JT sick to his stomach. He had to shut his eyes. Then he heard screaming—not screams of pain, but screams of joy. He did not recognize the voice, but he felt a strong grip on his shoulder.

"This is amazing, JT."

He fell to the floor, his knee exploding in pain. He fainted.

It was hard to say how much time passed before JT heard a deep voice in his ear. "Wake up, sleeper."

_Billy._ JT's eyes popped open. But it was a young man, around _thirty-five,_ with thick, brown hair and the brightest smile JT had ever seen.

"Billy?" JT muttered. He did not recognize his voice, but he had heard it before the last time the lights went out in the inner room of Warhead Dale. "Aww, man—not again!"

"What? What's wrong, JT?" the young man asked in a very clear, coherent masculine voice.

"I don't believe this. Who are you?" JT asked. "Are you Billy?"

"No! No, JT." The man thumped his chest. "Why, it's me, my young friend. I don't know how this happened, but it's me, Arthur Logan."

JT's head cocked to one side as he looked at the young man's beaming eyes and broad smile.

"Stop looking at me that way," Arthur said. "How did this happen, JT? I have not felt like this is some time. This is amazing."

JT tried to clear his head. He knew Billy was with them somehow; Kali was in Bruinduer and he had to get to her.

"So rad!" Jenny said behind him. "I know you said this was cool, Michael, but I had no idea it was this awesome."

He turned around. Jenny was examining her now fifteen-year-old hands and body. Michael could not take his eyes off of her; he looked more in love than ever.

JT stood up and walked to the mirror that hung on the wall. It was quite different than he remembered. There were fewer cracks and they were not as prominent. He could see his young face staring back at him clearly. He could remember what a rush it was to be so young again for the first time. There were probably millions of people who wished they could be fifteen again and, in just a few short months, it had happened to him twice.

Arthur paced about the room. Without the wrinkles on his face and the blank eyes, he was young and dashing—a youthful, confident man.

JT knew what Arthur was thinking. The first time, he had asked himself over and over, _How did this happen?_ Even with the benefits of being thirty-five, the rational attorney surely wanted to know what had transformed him and how.

"Arthur," JT said quietly. The man did not turn. "Arthur!" JT managed to project.

The young man's hair flew around his shoulders as he twisted his head, startled. He, too, was not used to JT's unbroken voice.

JT walked over and patted the man's shoulder. "I really don't know how this actually happens," JT said, a smile growing across his cheeks. "But I can tell you that Kali is beyond that door." JT turned Arthur's shoulders toward the massive mahogany door.

"Let's go." Arthur's eyes bugged. Breathlessly, he rushed toward the door.

It took all of JT and Michael's strength, but they tackled the energetic young man before he reached the door.

"I'm sorry." Arthur apologized as JT and Michael lay on top of him. "I'm trying to get used to this." He took a few more deep breaths. "It's been so long since I have been able to do what I've thought of or actually wanted to do. It's been some time since I've been able to just run."

Arthur, JT, and Michael climbed to their feet and brushed themselves off. "Well, what do we need to do now?"

JT paused to think. He gazed around the inner room; the magic that it first had seemed dimmed this time. He did not know why. Was it too familiar to him?

He walked over to the big orange chair that Bill had once sat in and plopped into it. He put his head into his hands and stared at the floor. They needed to go back through the door, but he didn't want them to be separated, like the previous time. He had to think about what he needed to do and what kind of consequences might come out of whatever he decided. He was split as to whether or not he wanted to pay the price.

The silence grew thick. Michael stopped fawning over Jenny. Arthur actually stood still and Jenny stared at JT.

Suddenly, the Mahogany Door shook. It did not open, but the light from the cracks and from the red ruby eyes of the cane twinkled and danced across the walls of the inner room. Though they did not see the Essence, the way the light moved indicated that someone or something had stepped through the wooden slab. The light on the other side of the door morphed into a being and now, appearing before them in the flesh, was the Essence known as Kwaida-ume-fahamu or Billy.

The massive figure towered over them, its insides rumbling. Their eyes widened and their jaws dropped. JT felt electricity shoot through his body, but, unlike before, it did not turn to anger. Instead, it was a comfort, the same comfort he felt deep within the dungeon of the Triton Pyramid as he called the Essence's name.

"Helloooooo!" the mammoth creature howled. "How are my favorite peoples in the world?"

JT jumped up. He could not help himself. He ran into Billy's arms.

Billy swallowed him in his giant limbs. The ugly, grimy creature JT, Michael, and Kali had seen crawl from the bowels of Bruinduer was not hideous any longer. His face, still painted blue, white, and orange, was clean and tight. His teeth were white; his toga and shoes were soft, though his red hair was still matted and his feather headdress ratty.

JT fell limp in Billy's arms, feeling the massive heart beat through his own chest. If he did not know better, he could hear the Essence purr as he stroked JT's back. JT felt totally safe.

"I missed you,"' JT whispered.

"I never left you," Billy answered. "But this time a test like no other awaits you, my friend."

Michael, Arthur, and Jenny looked on, but the audience did not faze Billy. He clearly cared for JT. When he finally let go of the boy, he immediately walked over to Arthur.

Billy had terrified Michael, Kali, and JT when he blew the doors off of Warhead Dale and they all still felt that terror in different degrees. Arthur, however, felt no terror, though anxiety washed over him. He had no idea what Billy's intentions were, but, since the Essence just hugged JT, he figured the creature would not harm him.

"Arthur." Billy put his hands on the man's shoulders. Arthur felt a warmth shiver down his spine. "I am so glad to see you, my friend. It is important for you to be here."

Arthur stared into Billy's black eyes. There was somberness about them, but he did not feel frightened in the least.

"What is it—" He paused. "Billy?" He looked to JT and JT nodded. "What do you want me to do? I still have no idea what has happened to me."

Billy chuckled, then whispered in Arthur's ear. The young man's eyes grew large, then the Essence pulled Arthur close. "I am sure that your daughter would say something about how I am being as manipulative as possible. Her faith is great, but she questions everything. That is good, because I do need to prove to her that I do care and I am not manipulative. I use those I care for; I show them that they are stronger than they realize."

Billy let Arthur go and turned to Michael. "Watch after JT. He needs you."

He turned to Jenny. "Watch after Michael. He needs you."

He walked to the door and spoke without turning around. "You know the rules of Bruinduer, but hold these two in your minds, for they are the most important.

"First, the people of Bruinduer are people. Even if they are the dastardliest of individuals, they are people. And second, everyone who enters Bruinduer must leave Bruinduer. As you found out with Charlie, there are multiple ways to exit. Be mindful of which one you take."

The Essence stepped toward the door and began to pass through it. He stated one last thing before he vanished. "The journal. Keep it close. It contains information that will help you in your journey."

"The door is shut!" JT called after Billy. "How do we get back?"

"The door is not completely shut." Billy sounded amused. "Kali is a very resourceful young woman, though she needs you more than ever where she is right now. Her situation is not been a very good one. Her path, as well as that of another, depends on what you do next. Bruinduer, though full of my rules, is a very independent world. Its habitants certainly affect it. When you pass the threshold, you, too, become one of them."

The Essence disappeared through the door and into Bruinduer.

"Why can't anyone give me a direct answer?" JT mumbled.

"This may not be the best time, but Billy wanted me to ask you about a couple of things," Arthur said.

"Great. More questions. What is it?" JT was frustrated, without a doubt.

"JT, I'm not trying to be rude, but you have to remember, I still have no idea what is going on. I am just trying to go with the flow."

JT remembered feeling the same way when Michael entered his life not too long before. He told Kali that he didn't have a lot of time to think about what might happen; he just had to live in the moment. His mood changed just a little, because he knew exactly how Arthur was feeling—pretty much lost.

"Sorry, Arthur. I know this is hard on you. I apologize for being insensitive. The last thing I thought I'd be is young again."

"Yes, JT, I can imagine. It's hard for me, though I feel so alive right now. Remember, Kali is my daughter. I will do anything to make sure she is okay." Arthur's sincerity shone in his eyes.

"Sure, Arthur. What did Billy want you to ask me? Though I'm sure he could have asked me himself—but I guess that would be too easy."

"I really don't understand it. Maybe you do. The first question is, _What is it that all creatures need to survive?_ "

"That's an odd question."

"And the last question..." Arthur paused for a second. "Please forgive me if I am way off here, but I heard this as a child. I think Billy wanted me to ask you, _Why is a raven like a writing desk?_ "

"What in the world?"

JT couldn't think straight. The questions bounced around his head. He only knew it was time to go back to Bruinduer.

"Okay..." JT's voice was speculative. He figured there would be some kind of catch. There was always a catch. He sauntered easily to the door, back to his younger body with no pain in his knee. He peered at the cane, then looked back at Michael, Jenny, and Arthur.

"I want to know right now: are we in this together? There will be no turning back once we enter." JT's voice was tense but excited.

All three nodded slowly.

"Are you sure?" JT stared at Michael. He feared that, if there was a weak link in their chain, it would be Michael.

"Yes, JT. I swear. I am with you." Michael glanced at Jenny, who nodded. "All the way."

JT continued. "Okay. We had this thing called the Bruinduer Expedition Commission, the BEC. We gave each other ranks to keep things in order. I'm beyond that right now—it seems kind of pointless at this juncture." JT waited for a reaction, but his audience had none.

"But I have to make sure of a couple of things." JT thought really fast. "First, do we have a timepiece? And second, we all need to hold hands as a group when we go through the door. I can't go through what we did last time and lose two of us just as we get in."

Michael reached into his pocket, pulled out Charlie's old, blood-encrusted watch, and fastened it to his wrist. "Got the timepiece."

"Right," JT acknowledged him. "We go in together. We come out together. I have no idea how many others went in with Kali and the Munch, so be careful. Take notes in your mind or try to write it down. No telling what kind of land we are going into."

JT took a deep breath. "Let's go."

The four travelers huddled up close to the mahogany door. They looked upon the massive piece of wood with white light burning around its edges as the red light from the cane's eyes blasted bright again, their beams piercing through the room and dancing across the ceiling.

Billy saidd the ancient door wasn't shut all of the way.

JT thought. He wondered how the land activated without being shut, but the lock was broken on their first trip through to get Charlie. The door looked shut, but then JT saw pink stuck to the door's lock.

He stooped down, shielding his eyes from the red light, and peeked at the latch. A soft piece of pink substance stuck out between the door and the jamb. _Kali's gum!_ He remembered her asking if he wanted gum that night outside of Warhead Dale in the dark; he remembered all of the gum wrappers on her desk. JT smiled. Kali had known that somehow JT would come back for her, just like he had in the desert. Adrenaline spiked in his veins. _That a girl!_ he thought.

"Everyone take hands and do not let go. If we get in there and any of you are gone, well..." JT paused for a second. He didn't want to seem too angry. "I just don't know what I'll do. We have to stick together on this. Anyone have any second thoughts or delusions of grandeur? Speak now or shut up."

From the silence in the room, JT figured that the team was ready to go. He lifted his duffel bag with his grandfather's journal and flung it over his shoulder.

"Everyone take hands," JT commanded again, with more force. He would keep them together in the transition to Bruinduer. A loud, deep, rumbling laugh rang out in the room.

Michael held Jenny's hand, Jenny took Arthur's hand, and Arthur clasped JT's.

JT reached for the door. No magic blue lightning carved the outline of the sculpture in the wooden plate, but JT could feel power rush through him like a swift, sustained breeze, down his back and to his feet.

He felt the door heave as though Bruinduer itself was actually breathing. He lightly nudged the door, but it would not move. He leaned into it and the door gave way. Wind and a bright light exploded through the opening. The four travelers disappeared as they were sucked into Bruinder. The piece of gum, so gently keeping the door from closing all of the way, dropped from its place. The massive mahogany door slammed shut.

JT flew in the light, his body free. For a moment he felt as happy as he ever had. He kept a tight grip with his hand, but he could not tell whether he still had Arthur's hand in his or not. He raced across the portal with reckless abandon, whatever his fate might be. He went faster and faster, his heart pounding and his breath leaving him. The illumination grew brighter and brighter as his speed grew. Suddenly, like he had rushed into a wall, all went black. He slammed into the ground.

# Chapter 15

"Wake up, sleeper." The whisper shot through JT's head and tickled his eardrum. He suddenly remembered something from his past.

He sat on a bench waiting for his mother—at least, he felt as though the woman suddenly barking orders at him was his mother. "Tuck in your shirt! You look like a slob!"

If this was his mom, why was she filled with such rage? _How is a raven like a writing desk?_ The question interrupted this memory that he did not want to lose.

"What?" he whispered to no one in particular as he spat out a chunk of dirt.

The moist ground smelled fresh. The ferns that covered the forest floor he lay in pierced the humid air with a sweet aroma that seemed to hang between the trees. He heard birds chirping, then the unmistakable sound of armored soldiers marching.

"JT!" Arthur pulled on his arms, trying to help him to his feet. "JT! We need to get out of here in a hurry."

Muted yelling sounded far away. A tremendous thud shook the ground. JT, now on his feet, realized he was dressed in mail. It was not heavy, but felt awkward and unsettling, like he was being pushed from behind, urged to run. He did not know where he was going. He only knew he was moving forward.

The visor of his helmet slammed shut. He became more disoriented and struggled to pull it off of his head. Once the helmet came off and fell to the ground, he could identify the noise around him.

Behind and to his right, a man screamed orders. "Ready, archers, take your mark."

JT looked to his left; Arthur was beside him. To his left and slightly in front of him, two armored figures ran as hard as they could. He decided they were Michael and Jenny. Though JT believed them to be moving swiftly, they did not seem to be gaining a lot of ground.

JT glanced behind him. A line of men raised bows and they took their aim, the sound of taut bowstrings echoing through the clearing beneath the canopies of trees. His legs exploded into a sprint.

A figure appeared in front of him, its shape familiar. As he came closer, he glimpsed her profile. It was Kali.

"What?" JT squeaked. He had no time to react. "Get down!" he yelled.

Within a millisecond, he heard the bowstrings release with an awful knock, then a hiss as the arrows searched for their targets.

"Everybody get down!" Arthur shouted across the tops of the ferns. As soon as the words left his lips, JT heard three armored bodies slam to the ground, yet he darted toward Kali. He knew the arrows must have been close; the whistles from the feathers became louder and louder. His breath became shorter and shorter.

He leapt toward Kali to tackle her, but his arms passed through her like a ghost. He slammed into the ground. As he landed, he looked up behind him. An arrow passed right through her chest. Then came the sound of a hundred or more arrows sinking into tree trunks throughout the forest.

_What in the world?_ JT thought. His eyebrows shot up his forehead. _What just happened?_

Kali turned to him. A chill ran up JT's spine. _Could it be Kali's ghost?_ The young woman peered at him with loving eyes. In a faint, wispy voice, she said, "I knew you would come back for me."

Kali turned toward the line of archers, floating and dancing, screaming and making horrible noises. The soldiers raised and drew their bows again, but, just as they were about to fire, the men's fright became obvious. A few of them shot wildly; the rest of the soldiers turned and ran away in terror.

Kali disappeared.

JT sat up and scanned the forest. Michael, Jenny, and Arthur popped their heads up soon after.

"Was that Kali?" Arthur asked.

"Kali?" Michael pulled off his helmet. "Where?"

"Kali is here?" Jenny asked. "I want to meet her."

"She was just over there, but she vanished," JT yelled. As soon as he said that, he heard Kali's voice behind him, soft and windy.

"I wouldn't really say that I vanished."

JT sprang to his feet and whirled around. Kali looked like herself, but quite different. He reached out to take her arm, but his hand passed right through her limb.

"How is this possible?" JT asked.

"Well—" Kali began, but JT, terrified, interrupted her.

"Are you a ghost? Are you dead?" JT tried to be matter-of-fact, but his heart rammed in his chest. He could not deal with Kali being dead.

"JT," Kali said. "No. I'm not dead."

"Then how are you like..." JT stuttered. "Like...like...this?"

Arthur walked delicately toward Kali. She looked at the man lifting his armored legs up and down, crunching the ground beneath them. She looked a little frightened. Her breath caught as the man removed his helmet.

His eyes beamed at her. It took her a moment to realize that it was her father, but the young Arthur smile as he remembered when Kali had truly been fifteen. His heart filled, his chest heaved with a sob, and he reached out to pull her close, but his arms passed right through her.

His fleeting joy turned to panic.

"Why can't I hug you? I've missed you so."

"I know. I am sorry." Kali began to walk toward the dark depths of the forest. "Please find me."

"Where? What is this about?" JT yelled.

Arthur ran after her.

Her image glided and picked up speed, a specter floating gently into the shadows of the trees. Before Arthur could reach her, Kali vanished.

JT, Michael, and Jenny made their way to Arthur. It was silently agreed that they follow in the direction Kali's ghost had taken.

Their mail jingled, but they remained silent. Their questions never surfaced. No one knew whether to believe what they saw or not, but they didn't want to talk about it. After some time, the four travelers came to the edge of the forest. A valley sprawled beneath them, half-covered by a village built around a very large castle with very high towers and sturdy wall around it.

They peered down at the kingdom for a moment, not really certain what to do next. JT calmed himself down. There had to be someone who could help them.

JT meditated silently, then took a profound breath. A slight breeze on the back of his neck made his hairs stand up, as though the wind was telling him to move forward.

He studied the ground directly in front of him. The land fell abruptly, almost forming a cliff. There would be no way for him to go in that direction.

The breeze blew harder. The sky of Bruinduer began to turn a milky white and the temperature dropped very quickly.

Acting on faith, JT took a step toward the edge. As he looked over the side, a crook in the embankment revealed a path that led to the valley below, like a large winding staircase.

JT turned and walked down the path and his three companions followed without a word. After they had taken few steps down the hill, the sky opened. It began to snow.

The snow floated down softly, then the flakes grew larger and fell relentlessly. The four travelers trudged on to the bottom and into the valley, through the cold and the growing depth of snow, tired and hungry.

Finally, JT turned to his friends. "We need to find somewhere to get out of this weather!" he yelled back. By this time the wind howled and the snow rushed in a blizzard, blowing sideways.

"Please help us, Billy," JT whispered with his head bowed against the angry wind. His bones were cold and his feet felt numb. The others did not complain, but he knew they felt miserable, too.

He could not tell if it was Billy or just the screaming weather, but something turned his head to the right. In the distance, he saw a cabin nestled in the woods, its windows glowing from a warm fire and light, beckoning travelers to come inside.

They plowed through the blizzard and up the path to the cabin, where JT knocked on the door. He did not pound, for he did not want to begin by being demanding.

A brief moment passed, then the door cracked open.

"Please, come in."

The four travelers trudged through the door, one after the other, their mail jingling.

"Welcome." The voice echoed from the shadows behind the door as it closed. "Please make your way to the fire. It is strangely and bitterly cold outside. And, please, take that heavy metal off."

"Thank you," the four travelers said one after another, their voices quiet in the cozy cottage. They stood before the fire and helped each other out of their mail.

Meanwhile, a short, round man stepped out of the shadows behind the door and moved lightly toward them.

"My name is Homer. Please make yourselves at home." The short man waddled to the kitchen area and prepared a hot drink for his guests. His worn clothes did not look as though they belonged to a poor man, but more likely to a man who worked with his hands. Wood shavings clung to the fibers and small rips riddled his black suit. His tie, though aged, had been tied in a careful knot, as though it were a prized possession. The ensemble looked well on the short man and he moved comfortably in it.

"Are you sure you are no one else?" JT asked hopefully, for he thought the man might have been Billy in disguise.

"No. I am Homer as I have always been. If I were someone else, I think I would know that." Homer spoke with his back turned, clanking dishes as he prepared something.

The man's voice was rough but comforting. He did not rush in his movements, but made each one deliberately. Before long, he delicately placed a tray of steaming cups before his guests, then humbly went to the edge of his own couch and sat upon it.

The drink smelled sweet and the four travelers attacked it with fervor. It went down smoothly, tasting a bit like honey and cola.

The round man studied his guests. "You are not from around here are you? Brought this snow with you, hmm?" He did not sound angry, but as if he suspended his judgment until he knew why they were there.

JT still felt like he had seen his host before, but could not place it.

"Yes, you're right. We are not from here, but I don't see how we could have brought the snow." JT cracked a small smile and Jenny, Arthur, and Michael chuckled a bit.

"Yes, indeed." The old gentleman crossed his legs. "In such a land as this, word travels very fast. It is said that you came from the sky and, with you, you brought this bitter chill. Not that this land sees only warm days, but we have never seen the snow quite like it has been today."

"What can you tell us about this kingdom?" Arthur spoke up. Obviously, his thoughts had turned to Kali and he wanted information.

"Ah, this kingdom with no name. It is said that we have no name because no name besides the name of our god and his kingdom deserves to be spoken."

"Who is your god?" Jenny asked.

"Why, Kwaida, of course." Homer smiled.

"That's Billy," JT mumbled under his breath.

"What was that, my boy?" Homer's interest was piqued.

"Oh, really?" JT said, louder. "I have heard of Kwaida." JT's cheeks turned pink.

"Well, I should hope so," Homer replied.

"More about the kingdom," Arthur persisted. "We came from the forest. We saw an apparition in the forest, a young lady dressed in white. There were soldiers hunting her, I think—or hunting us. I could not know for sure. Do you know anything about her?" Arthur kept his voice light and curious, not revealing that the apparition was his daughter.

"Ah, yes, the lady of the forest," Homer began. "There is a story about our kingdom. You see, there is no pain in this world. There is no hunger. We have no wars. There is no disease. Everyone is prosperous. But it is said that that sense of peace comes with a price.

"Usually that type of serenity only comes after some cataclysm or major war. The stories say that the peace we have comes from this young girl's sacrifice. You see, our king, whom no one sees, tortures this innocent girl once a day for an hour. As long as she takes this world's burden upon her, no one will hurt in our land upon the hill. The king, in all of his power and greed, takes his aggression out on this one child and, because of it, he refrains from the persecution of the masses."

Arthur dropped his cake back on his plate.

"The lady of the forest, they say, searches for her love to come and rescue her from the clutches of the king and his pain."

Arthur's heart sank, his fears confirmed.

"What?" JT yelled out.

"Oh my God." Jenny burst into tears.

"Easy, easy, my friends. Please continue to drink, eat, and relax. It is just a tale—probably only to explain what people may or may not see in the woods." Homer paused to let his guests, visibly upset, calm down. "Our leader does not hide, by the way. We see him at least once a week, so the story of our heroine is just that—a story, a tall tale."

"But I saw her as close as day! And what about those soldiers out in the woods shooting arrows at her?" Arthur was becoming impatient.

"Hmmm." Homer took another bite from a biscuit. "There have been tales of seeing vapors in the forest under the spells of the night, no doubt. But have any of you thought that maybe our soldiers weren't shooting at the lady of the forest, but at the real..." Homer pointed at his guests, "...occupants of the forest this afternoon?"

JT thought about it for a second. It was possible. "But the soldiers ran when they saw Kali."

Homer's eyes snapped open and he took a deep breath. "Just stories, my new friends, only stories. The day brings the truth."

Homer cleared the plates and glasses, then gathered his guests and made them beds near the warmth of the fire. The wind and blizzard blew ferociously outside, piling the snow against the house and weighing down the limbs of the trees. "Please make yourself welcome in my home. We will talk more in the morning."

# Chapter 16

JT, Arthur, Jenny, and Michael woke to the smell of fried bacon, eggs, coffee, and toast. It might be hard to get out of a cozy bed on a cold and wintry morning, but a hungry tummy always takes priority.

They rose and found their outer clothes clean and pressed. The mail they had donned after entering Bruinduer was polished and bright. Their host had been busy the night before, making his guests welcome.

"Good morning." Homer escorted the four travelers to his dining room table. "The snow is high this morning, but the weather has broken a bit. What was once a blizzard is now a nice soft snow falling."

The travelers tore into the breakfast as though they had not eaten in a while—and, in fact, they had not. At length, they satisfied their hunger.

"Can you tell us more about this land? This kingdom?" Arthur asked, getting very anxious now. He wanted to find Kali and bring her back safe, as did his companions.

"It is peaceful," Homer stated.

"The king?"

"The king is a very enigmatic man, but one who prides himself on keeping peace." Homer paused for a second. "Or trying to. No outsiders have actually caused any issues, though I am sure many citizens would be ready to attack you because of this snow."

"We can't cause it to snow," Jenny stated. Her voice cut through the small house, sounding much like it had in the courtroom with JT.

"Hmmm. If the right people say that you caused it to snow," Homer eyed Jenny. "Then you caused it to snow."

"Can we get to the king to see him?" Arthur asked.

"Why would you want to see him?" Homer pressed. "No one really has a reason to see the king, considering no one has any real problems...besides this snow, of course."

"We can't make it snow,"' Jenny repeated, her voice more forceful.

"Unh-huh." Homer smiled.

"Let's just say we needed to assure his majesty that we are not here to cause it to snow. If it is true what you said and those soldiers were shooting at us, his majesty would have questions, don't you think?" Jenny pressed.

Homer thought for a second. "You have a point, my friend. I can see why he might want to talk to you now, come to think of it. I am glad I spoke with you."

The snow started to fall a little harder as the conversation picked up its pace. Michael remained quiet, though his insides were turned upside down. JT twiddled his thumbs and Arthur jiggled his knee up and down in his anxiety; a bead of sweat raced down his cheek.

"Just go up to the castle," Homer said. He took in a deep breath and exhaled, hesitating as though it might be a mistake to tell his guests how to reach his ruler, but he told them just the same. "All you have to do is ask." Homer started to wash the dishes and clean the kitchen. "You'd better hurry. He only sees people at certain times and then, only when it is convenient for him."

The four travelers thanked their host, gathered their things, and got ready to trek through the snow to the castle. JT hoped that they would not be in Bruinduer too long. They needed to get Kali and go, but something in the back of his mind told him that this trip would not be that easy.

He did not care too much for his own safety, but he had promised himself that he would destroy the mahogany door when this adventure was over and all of them were safe, especially Kali. There was just too much power in this land for him—or anyone, for that matter—to handle. Without his memory, he was most certain that he could not control it. He already had let a madman steal his cane.

Then the door popped and creaked open. They launched themselves into the unrelenting cold, wrapped in their clothes, armor, and thick furs Homer gave them.

They shivered right away, the furs clinging to them just enough to keep the cold from biting too hard. Arthur was the inspiration that kept JT, Michael, and Jenny moving. He plowed through the snow and wind, fighting its every breath with sheer determination and purpose.

They trudged along the streets, passing small houses made of gray stone, their chimneys alive with smoke from the fires keeping the cold at bay.

They made their way to the city beneath the castle. To their surprise, a line of disgruntled subjects and soldiers waited there, dressed in leather armor and furs, armed with lances and swords.

JT recognized the flags that waved through the air. The white, snapping cloth shot chills through his spine. Memory exploded into his thoughts; the sands of the world Michael conjured and the war that raged on that desert painted haunting images in his mind. He snapped back to reality. This flag, a little different, had a symbol across the flag that looked like a small "k" turned upside down.

"Who are you and where are you from?" A loud voice boomed from atop the horse; the speaker carried what looked like some sort of scroll. "You are not from here. I know everyone from here and I do not know you!"

"No one, from nowhere!" the crowd sighed.

"We've come to see the king!" Arthur yelled before JT could say anything.

The crowd turned on them, grumbling.

"Get in line," someone said just loud enough for the four to hear. "We want the same thing!"

"No person who is not a citizen may see the king. Who are you?" the voice asked again.

"We are from the outland!" Michael spoke up.

The crowd became more restless. They rumbled louder and louder as word traveled from person to person that there were outlanders in their presence.

"These must be the people who brought gloom and snow to our land!" an anonymous subject bawled toward the guard. "They must pay for their crimes!"

The soldier's horses shifted nervously as the horde yelled at Michael, Arthur, JT, and Jenny. Their anxiety was thick.

JT's body tightened. This felt all too familiar with him. The people of Athens Eden did not want him in their town. Now he wasn't welcome in Bruinduer, the one place he thought he could have anything he wanted. His breathing became heavy as panic grew within him. His head swam; he felt paralyzed as his head swiveled back and forth, eyeing each citizen that jeered at him.

The crowd encircled the four travelers, who only wanted to get Kali and go home. Now they were being blamed for something impossible to fathom; the crowd believed them guilty of changing the world and causing harm when they did not even know what was going on.

The crowd began to fling snowballs and rocks at the four. JT dodged the missiles, knowing one would draw blood sooner or later. He could only imagine what the others felt as the hard rocks pelted them.

The soldiers tried desperately to keep the crowd at bay.

A riot was about to erupt. Emotions ran so high in the crowd that JT could only guess what had angered them. _Has it never snowed in this land before? What is Kali's role in this? And is the Munch the one allowing this to happen?_

Just as JT and his companions ended up back to back, forced to accept their fate, the wind howled above the crowd in a spectacular snow cyclone. The king appeared in front of the crowd but above, atop of the castle gate's wall.

The crowd immediately stopped their attack and whirled around, shooting their eyes to the sky.

A bellowing voice erupted over them. "My fellow citizens, I promise that we will find the cause of our problems." The voice was neither angry nor joyful, but matter of fact. "Bring the outlanders in to see me. You will all be heard in this kingdom, as I have always promised."

Relief flowed through the people and the tension dissolved.

JT lifted his head to look toward the wall, but, before he got a good look at the king, the king had vanished into another twister of snow.

Jenny, Michael, and Arthur looked at each other.

"Seize them!" one of the mounted soldiers ordered. "Take them into the castle before we have pandemonium."

A group of armored soldiers on foot surrounded the travelers. Just as the soldiers closed in on them, another gust of wind dropped from the sky. The knights around JT, Jenny, Arthur, and Michael blew backward, falling to the ground, their swords and armor crashing to the stone courtyard.

The crowd gasped in horror. Kali's apparition appeared before the multitude. Her face calm, she pointed toward a tall structure beyond the castle's gate.

The crowd fled in fear and chaos ensued. People sprinted, knocking each other down to get away from the scene. The knights on the ground struggled to their feet as reinforcements came up behind them.

Arthur, with no thought and only by instinct, drew his sword. The rest of the party followed his lead.

"Where are you, Kali?" Arthur yelled. "I need to find you!"

Kali's ghost waved its hand in a magical gesture. Another group of knights, ready to attack, hit the ground. She pointed again to the structure beyond the courtyard. Her mouth moved, but JT and the others could not hear what she was saying.

Arthur ran to her and reached for her, but, like before, his hand passed right through her image. He grimaced. "Please, Kali." Arthur gazed into her eyes with inexpressible longing as tears flowed down his cheeks.

Kali's transparent hand reached for his. Just as she nearly touched his hand, a knight came up from behind Arthur with his sword raised above his head. Kali jerked her hand away from Arthur's and thrust with her wrist; the knight fell backward to the ground.

"I'm sorry," Arthur mouthed. Kali's apparition dissolved in front of him. "About everything."

# Chapter 17

"Let's go!" Michael bellowed. "We gotta get out of here!"

JT grabbed Arthur and, in the fracas, all four of them disappeared into the crowd, making their way to the structure Kali had pointed out.

The day had turned bitterly cold. Everyone's teeth chattered as they trudged through the snow and ice to the structure.

The crowd continued its confused struggle, but the kingdom's castle—and this massive structure that waited for them—stood stoic against the frigid blue of the day.

The building, a towering structure made of stone, but was remarkable for its sheer mass. Large spires spiked through the blue sky and its central peak vanished into the air as though it touched the roof of Bruinduer. Large windows of colored glass covered the outside. It may have looked bleak to passersby, but, from a distance, the expansive windows reflected the character and beauty of the medieval village it occupied.

The four travelers had a hard time seeing that reflection, as they bent their heads to shield themselves from the wind that cut through the streets of the town and threatened any exposed skin. Even if they had seen the reflection, they would have seen a village in turmoil and disarray.

JT reached the building and plowed through the door, where heat instantly enveloped him. His friends followed one by one, breathing deeply of the sweet smell of flowers and perfume. They walked into the great room of the empty building.

"Is this a church?" JT asked instinctively. It reminded him of a church, probably because of the distinctive smell.

Crowded chairs had been spread around a stage with an old wooden table in the middle. JT walked toward the table. He and his companions threw back their fur cloaks in the warmth of the room.

"I wish I knew what was going on," JT announced.

Jenny grabbed Michael's hand. Arthur threw himself into a chair and cradled his head in his hands, fighting hard to hold back his emotions. He could finally think straight and move freely, but his suffering had not ended.

"Well, the first thing we need to do is give thanks." An average man dressed in a long grey robe appeared from a side door, carrying a silver pail of liquid and a plate full of crackers.

"You," JT announced.

"Why, yes, it is me. It is the only me that I know."

When the man placed his tray in the middle of the table, the four travelers recognized their host from the night before. His smile lit the room and comforted JT, who winked back at the man. JT had a sense it might be Billy in disguise, with him as he had always been with him in his first adventure.

"I do not know if I deserve the wink, young man, but please join me in this small feast and give thanks to Kwaida for such a wonderful, snowy day."

JT, Michael, and Jenny joined the robed man at the table, eating crackers and drinking juice.

"You all are chosen." He set the pail down and faced Arthur. "All of you. Even you, my son."

Arthur lifted his head, shaking it. "I don't know if that is true. It's been so long since I've even spoken, so long since I made choices and things went wrong. I am young now and can speak freely, yet I feel as though I have no control over anything, including myself."

"Come here, drink with us. Feel the renewal in your life. For it is not how you start this journey, but how you finish that matters. Embrace the here and now; relish the opportunity, day, and friends that have been given you.'

Arthur stood up and warmth engulfed him. JT reached out his hand and the others followed. They gathered around the table in the middle of the room, drank from the pail, and ate from the plate.

Energy swelled within them and they talked about life.

"So, I hate to ask this question, but I think you are the only one right now who can really help us." JT broke the mood of laughter and sharing.

"I cannot help you, my son," the old man said. "But I can help you help yourself. You see, there are many things that can answer questions. I assume that your mind is full of questions without any answers."

JT paused for a second. His new friend had no idea how right he was. It seemed that, for every time he had acted since Michael found him under the big old oak tree, he had created nothing but a large question mark. He felt as confused as Arthur, though, for some reason, he was better off than him.

"I think that you know one place and have started looking, but have not really understood the words you've read."

JT thought for a second, then knew that Homer meant his grandfather's journal.

"Right. The old man had some answers in his book, but you have to realize that he was writing down what he experienced, not only what he was feeling."

JT peered at his duffel bag and the cover of the journal gleamed from the top of it. He took it out of the satchel and brought it back to the table, astonished at what he saw.

The journal—just like him, Michael, Jenny, and Arthur—was in much better shape after passing through the mahogany door. It too was much younger and brighter, almost ready to burst with life. Though still worn, it was noticeably newer. The brown leather had just started to fade, but all the pages were tightly bound. The red ribbon, taut around the covers, was slick and strong, not a flimsy string barely holding the pages in the book.

JT could see the letters on the front cover now, in fine gold print, "Captain's Journal."

JT and his traveling companions stared in shock. The journal was complete and could be read.

"How is this?" JT mumbled.

"How is a raven like a writing desk?" the man in the robe asked, picking up his trays and leaving the room.

"It is you!" Excitement reverberated in JT's voice, even as the man went out the side door.

"I have been called a lot of things," the man said, "But I might not be who you think I am. I must tell you that you have probably read the book searching for an answer instead of reading the journal for what it is: a great story, a picture of a moment that echoes through time, and an explanation of why this world is here. I am sure if you look at it as a story, instead of trying to dissect it looking for some gotcha moment, you will discover what you are seeking."

"What, like why a raven is like a writing desk?" JT huffed.

"Among other things," the man mumbled. Then he was gone.

Michael walked over to JT at the table and Jenny patted him on the back. Then Michael glanced at Jenny, who nodded in approval.

"JT," Michael said. His tight voice caught in his throat. "I just want to tell you that I am sorry."

"About what?" JT asked as he flipped through the journal's pages, still amazed at their newness.

"I've been waiting for a good time, and I can't wait any longer. I want you to know that I am sincerely sorry for bringing all of this on you. I know it was a burden you never expected." Michael looked at Arthur, too. "It's all my fault." Michael hung his head. "I think I can really help you, but I also know you can't trust me for anything. I just want you to know that you can rely me."

JT said nothing.

Michael reached for the journal. "Let me help you, JT. I really can help, even though I know you don't think I can. We can get Kali and go home."

"Then what?" JT asked. "Then what do we do? Does someone else come back into Bruinduer so I find out some more bad things in my life and have to hunt down some other madman?" JT paused for a second. He felt his temper start to rise. "I wish you had never come to the farm." JT tried to catch himself before he muttered the words, but it was too late. Michael let go of the edge of the journal and walked out through the same door the robed man had used.

Jenny started after him.

"Just let him go, Jenny," Arthur said, standing up straight and crossing to JT.

"I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, JT," Arthur said in a low voice, which shook all the same. "I have been moping, wondering what has been happening to me since I've been back here, wherever this is, when I should be worried about my daughter. It doesn't matter who's right or who's wrong. It doesn't matter what we need to put aside to get the job done. I should be glad that I'm here. I'm here to have a chance to help my daughter."

JT stood, gripping the journal. He understood, but he had always wondered, _Why now? Why is this happening to me now?_

"It's just life, JT. It throws you curves and you have to deal with it, Enjoy it while you can, because, trust me, it'll be over before you know. Even when the time comes to shut your eyes and go wherever it is we go, embrace it until the end." Arthur put his hand on JT's shoulder. Jenny walked over to them.

"Go to Michael, JT," Jenny whispered. "All he's ever wanted was to be your friend, to make you proud of him. You were always there for him. Now, he just wants to be there for you."

JT turned and walked toward the door where Michael had walked out. Jenny had a point. And he knew in the back of his mind that he couldn't get Kali back by himself.

As JT passed through the door, the building shook. The wind howled and the snow outside churned, whitening the windows. The door of the building flew open and the chill was instant. The smell of the perfume turned to the smell of winter, like the walls of a deep, dark, damp, empty cave.

The cold didn't bite. The cold paralyzed.

# Chapter 18

"Hello there, people." A voice boomed out in the chaos. From the churning weather, emerged the king of the land, the dark complexioned man JT remembered from the courtroom, and the same man who stole Kali.

JT charged back into the room towards the man, Arthur and Jenny on his heels. The man blew with a powerful breath on his three would-be attackers, freezing their feet to the floor. Their feet stuck, but momentum caused them to fall forward. JT and Jenny caught themselves with their arms, but Arthur only got one arm up in time. He turned his head, but still smacked his cheek on the floor with a loud thud.

"Yes, that is what I am talking about!" the king laughed.

"Who are you? What do you want?" JT struggled to get to his feet. He tried to shake his feet out of his shoes, but he could not.

"I see that you have found your way into the Egleese. We would like to have it a little more modern than this medieval heap of stone, but your girlfriend just had to have it her way." The king smiled.

JT, Arthur, and Jenny struggled to break free and grab the king, but he stood and laughed at them. Then he leaped about, shaking his body in a victory dance, waving his arms in the air.

Taking the king completely by surprise, Michael burst into the room and jumped on him from behind. Without hesitation, he tried to pull him toward the wooden floor. The king tried to wrestle Michael off of his back. JT felt a surge of adrenaline shoot through him as his friend fought for him.

Before long, the king regained his bearings and found strength enough to throw Michael across the room in a single motion. Michael yelled out, flying through the air and crashing into the stone wall with a distinct snapping sound. He crumpled to the floor and made no sound.

"No!" JT yelled. "No!"

The king raised a staff topped with a golden diamond, circled it in the air, and formed a funnel of snow around himself. He narrowed his eyes as they turned a bright blue, projecting the anger and hate that rushed through his veins.

"I thought this might be a little fun," he growled in his menacing voice. "No time for that now." He raised his arms and the cyclone grew stronger with each passing turn. Just as the king dropped his arms to direct the cyclone toward JT, an enormous bang sounded.

The glass on the front of the Egleese shattered and the specter of Kali appeared. With a powerful gulp, she inhaled the cyclone of snow that the king had created to destroy JT and his companions. In the room, suddenly silent and still, Kali's presence stared at the king with blazing eyes. She mouthed some words as she floated between JT and the king.

"You can say that if you want," the king lashed back. "But no matter what you do or attempt, you are still at my beck and call; you must obey me in the flesh.'

Kali's aura flowed gently to and fro, as though she were pacing. She bowed her head, but then she looked up, eyeing the king. With her eyes as black as coal and her gentle face twisted into a snarl, she wrapped her hand around the king's throat.

Startled, he collapsed to his knees choking. He thrashed about, fighting to break her hold and gain his breath. His voice shallow and choppy, he gasped, "You...know you...can't do—" He coughed. "—this forever... We will be with...you soon—" Another cough wracked his body. "—enough... Your power..."

Kali released her grip. The king fell, supporting himself on his arms as he gulped air in deep breaths. He reached toward JT, but Kali twitched her hand toward the king as if to choke him again and he relented.

He turned to the shattered glass and snickered, first at Kali and then at JT.

"This is not over, young ones. You know this little scene is not over—not by a long shot! Jato will never be beaten!" he announced as he disappeared into the weather outside.

The ice that clamped them to the floor melted quickly as the warmth returned to the room. When JT, Jenny, and Arthur's feet released from the floor, Jenny ran to Michael.

"He's hurt. He's hurt bad. Michael—talk to me. Talk to me, Michael." Jenny tried to remain calm as she panicked inside. Her arms and hands shook as she tried wake Michael without hurting him anymore.

JT hovered over Jenny and Michael. With no idea what to say or do, he closed his eyes. His mind raced. If only Billy had just shown up in time to stop this from happening.

Homer walked through the entrance to the Egleese. He scanned the room, noticing the phantom of Kali's fourteen-year-old body bobbing in the air next to her father, like a boat on the water. Arthur watched her, still waiting for her to say something, anything, but her words remained silent as she mouthed them. Arthur could only guess what she said, but her expressions poured out all her feelings even though he could not hear.

Homer kneeled beside Michael and gently released Jenny's hand from the unconscious man in a boy's body. He lifted Michael, gently and silently carrying him out of the room to lay him on a bed in a back room. Jenny followed. "Is there anything you can do for him?" Jenny begged, her voice hurried and soft.

"I am not sure. He appears pretty damaged." In stark contrast to his words, Homer's voice was calm, not quite indifferent, but revealed none of what he felt. "He needs rest."

JT slowly walked over to Kali and her father, still standing in the main room of the Egleese staring at each other. Arthur's eyes welled up as he tried in vain to clutch her hand and understand what she mouthed.

"Where are you?" Arthur asked. "I need you."

Kali's mouth moved oddly, like a ghostly wave. They could see that she was forming words, but still she made no sound. Her eyes were dark and longing.

JT stood just in front of father and daughter not knowing what to say. This time he, and not Michael, had put them in a dangerous predicament. He reached for Kali and, like her father's, his hand passed right through hers. He could not hold her. He could not touch her.

Despite her sad eyes, the expression upon her face convinced JT that she was okay—at least, the best she could be under the circumstances. She seemed to say that she understood what they must be feeling not reaching her, but she wanted them not to be frightened for her.

Suddenly she moved erratically, thrusting her neck back and forth, searching high and low, and then she spun about to face the other way. She let out a terrible scream. JT and Arthur could hear the sound as it ripped through the Egleese.

"Kali!" Arthur yelled.

Kali's body jerked back around. JT and Arthur watched, horrified, as her face melted. Arthur reached for Kali, but her face morphed into the Munch's. When the monster's head had fully manifested on top of Kali's body, it grinned broadly and laughed a full, deep, penetrating laugh.

JT and Arthur snatched their hands back, but somehow the Munch used Kali's ghostly body to hold onto their arms and pull them close.

JT's heart pounded; he felt a fear he thought he would never feel again. This was not the thrilling fear of ride a roller coaster for the first time, but the paralyzing fear of losing his life. He began to hyperventilate.

Arthur's temper, however, exploded into every nerve of his body. He punched at the head on Kali's body. The Munch dodged the swing and laughed. Then he froze his own head in place, allowing Arthur's fist to pass right through it. The harder Arthur swung, the louder the Munch's laughter echoed through the Egleese.

When Arthur could punch no more, the monster spoke, his voice as clear as day. "I have the girl. And you'll never have her back."

JT's stomach twisted. This fear—fear for Kali—was far worse than fear for himself. He tried to keep his passion at bay, but he could only hear the Munch laugh and say, "I have the girl. I have the girl."

JT snapped, he sprang to his feet and swung as hard as he could at the Munch's head, still atop Kali's body. His fist made contact on the arrogant specter. _Wham!_

The laughing stopped. The Munch's face showed shock, his jaw dropping. For the first time, JT saw something in the Munch, something that JT had felt since the monster grabbed his hand—fear.

JT cocked his fist back and hurled it toward the Munch's face a second time, but right before his knuckles made contact, the phantom vanished. JT's arm and body twisted through the empty space; the force of his punch threw him to the floor.

The frigid air from the broken glass in the Egleese penetrated JT's clothes; his skin tensed, but he lay still. The warmth was gone again. He wanted to scream.

Helpless and empty, Arthur cried tears of desperate suffering. For the first time in a long while, he could express his feelings for his daughter, but a strange man in a strange land controlled his every move.

JT carefully rolled onto his back and felt something hard beneath him. As he sat up and reached behind him on the floor, he realized it was his grandfather's journal. _There's much more in there than you think_ , JT heard Homer's voice echo through his mind.

"He has my daughter and I can't do anything about it, JT." Arthur trembled. "I couldn't do anything then and I can't do anything now. What am I doing wrong?"

JT clutched the journal. "What happened back then?' JT asked. "What happened at the trial?"

"That's right. You can't remember anything, can you? You have no idea how lucky you are." Arthur tried to gain some composure.

"People keep telling me that," JT mumbled.

"I believed that I had a good defense for Michael. I didn't believe most of what you all told me about what happened to Charlie and this magic land, but I see I was wrong now. I mean, all of this?" Arthur waved his arms about, then shrugged. "The only thing that saved Michael was that there was no body and no real motive. I mean, the DA argued that Michael's motive was hate, but kids that age hate everybody they come in contact with, it seems to me, so that argument held water for all of about ten seconds."

"Why were you shunned, though? Why did you and Kali have to leave Athens Eden?" JT asked.

"I didn't toe the line. I didn't bow down to the wishes of my office. You see, I quit being a prosecutor and defended Michael instead." Arthur clenched his fists.

His reaction to his own words left JT thinking that maybe Arthur regretted defending Michael. Maybe he thought of it as the worst he had ever made.

"Anybody could have won that case and gotten Michael off. The only problem was that no one would take his case, considering that the police wanted someone to take the fall for Charlie's death."

"But why?" JT asked. "It seems that whoever charged Michael with Charlie's death wanted to take him down. But why Michael? Michael was only—what, thirteen or fourteen? Why a fourteen-year-old kid?"

"Not Michael, JT." Arthur took a deep breath. "The office wanted to take down your grandfather's property so they could sell it for development."

JT was taken aback. Was his family really that loathed? Why would the government want to take someone's private land just to make money? Everyone town still hated him because of that trial. "I don't get it," JT started. "I just don't get it."

"Money, JT. Money is all it is. Your grandfather's house stands on prime real estate that would bring development, tourists, and money to the area." Arthur paused. "I just couldn't let that happen."

"Why? We were kids," JT answered. "I am sure we would've gotten over it."

"Well, maybe you would've gotten over it." Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out a picture. "But I sure wouldn't have."

JT gazed at the picture for a moment, then his eyes became huge and bright.

Jenny burst into the room. "JT, come quick—it's Michael!"

JT rushed from the room and reached Michael's side in a flash, still clutching his grandfather's journal.

"I can still help you, JT," Michael whispered, his voice thin.

"Are you okay?" JT asked. "I'm sorry I got you into this."

"No. We need to get Kali." Michael tried to lift his head, but Jenny placed it back onto the pillow. "The journal. Your grandfather's journal has all that you need. I know it tells a cool story, but in between the lines... You have to read carefully. Read what the words are telling you. You will figure out what you need to do then."

JT gazed at the journal, now shiny and new. "Why didn't you read between the lines when you had control of Godwin?" JT asked.

Although he was skeptical, he knew that Michael, in his condition, would not leave him astray. When real pain invades a body, it opens the heart to the truth.

"I didn't—no, wait—I don't have the same heart as you. I am not as brave as you are, JT." Michael grabbed JT's arm. "You are a much better person than I am."

"Don't be so sure of that, Michael. I don't have a clue about what I'm doing. To tell you the truth, I feel like it would be better if I was nowhere near here, hurting everyone around me." JT hung his head and shook it.

"Don't say that, JT. Read the journal. You'll understand." Michael shut his eyes. JT began to understand the severity of his friend's injuries.

"Is he going to be okay?" JT asked.

"I think he will." Homer's voice boomed from behind him. "He really took a beating from that monster."

"Why didn't you do anything to stop him?" JT asked. His instinct still told him that Homer was the Essence, Billy, in disguise.

"What would you have had me do, JT? Kill him? Lay siege to his castle? Splatter his insides around the wall?" Homer began organizing the cabinets in the room.

"I don't know." JT paused a second. "Yes?" His voice was weak.

"What would that have really solved? Do you think that that would have been the end? Do you think that his followers would not come after you?" Homer took a deep breath. "JT, I don't pick sides."

"What do you mean, you don't pick sides? You picked our side in Bruinduer."

"I don't know what you are talking about JT. I am a man of peace."

"I thought you were God!" JT's voice became louder.

"God? Me? You must have mistaken me for someone or something else. But, even if I were God, you would still have one question to answer." Homer walked away from JT. As he reached the door, he looked back. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

"What? I don't know and I don't care. Why is everyone so cryptic?" JT was exhausted. "I just want an answer and to be with Kali."

"Well, then. My advice to you is to be prepared. You won't like what you see when you find her, I promise, but remember Kwaida is with you." Homer disappeared into the halls of the church.

Michael called for JT restlessly. "JT?" He reached for Ol' Captain Luke's journal. "The book, read the book."

JT's heart raced; his palms were wet with sweat and his breath came faster. "I can't breathe."

He heaved in great gasps of air, clutching his chest. His face flushed, then lost any sign of color. He could feel his lips tremble.

The room began to spin and he couldn't think what to do next, he felt so lost. He clutched his grandfather's journal, running out of the Egleese and into the cold air. His feet sank into the foot of snow on the ground and streets, but the cold did not bother him. Numb to his surroundings, he ran as hard as he could, the vapor of his breath trailing him.

Soon his wits caught up with him, the cold chomped at his skin, and the elements overcame him. He huddled beneath a tree in the snow, holding the journal to his chest. Before he knew it, he began to fall asleep. He could not control it and didn't want to. He welcomed the dark. He was safe inside of his own mind.

His thoughts swirled into a dream. He pictured himself back on the Shorts' farm. The sun rose over the big oak tree over the Ol' 22 and the warmth of its beams struck his cheeks. Was he back at the farm? Had this all been a dream?

The wind kissed his nose, comforting him. Even though he did not know the story of his childhood, he knew that the Shorts' farm was his home, the only home he did know. _What do all creatures have to have to live_? The question echoed in his mind. He felt the dirt under his feet, then a strong grip on his shoulder. He whirled around; to his surprise, it was Gregory.

"Hello, boy," the man's voice rumbled.

"Are you real?" JT asked.

"It all depends on what you think is real. Some of us believe that what happens in the mind when one dreams is just as real as anything that happens as we are awake." Gregory smiled.

"Yeah, you might be real, but you're not Gregory." JT crossed his arms.

Gregory laughed and, with each laugh, his voice morphed deeper and deeper.

He knew he was caught, so Gregory's body quickly morphed into Billy's.

"Figured," JT said, calm, but not enthused. He remembered feeling comforted by the Essence in Bruinduer, when fighting Charlie got tough, but now he felt a sense of drudgery. He was not angry like before, but tired of being put in situations that he could not understand, especially with Kali's life in danger.

"I don't understand why you just don't stop all of this. Why don't you just save everyone?"

"I can. But I won't." Billy sighed. "I know you are frustrated. As you will learn, I do not take sides."

"Cryptic," JT responded, emotionally exhausted. He held nothing back. "So if you don't take sides, are you meeting with that madman, the Munch, in his dreams, playing like you care for him, like you are me right now?"

Billy was silent for a moment. "You can never understand. I wish you could, but you will just have to trust me. Let whatever happens, happen." Billy smiled. His once cracked teeth were bright.

"Who are you, anyway?" JT asked.

"How is a raven like a writing desk?" Billy asked.

"Jeez. Just tell me. I wish you would just tell me." JT's mind was in a tunnel.

"You are about to embark on a task that will not be easy. Horrible things will happen. And you will see things that you never imagined. Your journey will be difficult, and you will want to give up." Billy began to fade.

The warm air in JT's vision moved across the stalks of corn. JT reached for Billy. "Then why do it?"

"Despite the pain, despite the hardship, it is worth it for you." Billy vanished in a blink.

JT felt his body shake from the cold and his eyes popped open. He woke up with a mouth full of snow.

"I can't run away," JT mumbled to himself. He brushed the snow from his clothes and made his way back to the Egleese. "Kali needs me. I promised her." He reached back into his thoughts and remembered the many times he told her that he would protect her no matter the cost.

As soon as JT felt the warmth of the Egleese on his face, Jenny ran from the back room where Michael still lay injured. "He's gone!" she yelled. "He snapped. We tried to stop him, but he just left."

"Calm down. Michael's gone?"

"No," Jenny explained. "Arthur. He's gone. He told us he had to get to his daughter; he had been too weak for her and he had to go to her now. We tried to stop him, but he pushed Homer to the ground and left." Jenny hugged JT. "Are you okay? This is just getting way out of control. I'm scared."

JT held Jenny tight. "I know. I am. too, but we need to get to Kali. We may be too late to help Arthur."

JT struggled to the back room, the stress of the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders. He sat nervously on the bed beside Michael. Michael lay quietly, his breath wispier with every exhale. JT was there for a moment before Michael opened his eyes.

"I knew you'd be back." Michael sounded tired.

JT's heart pounded. He could barely get the words out, but knew he had to do what needed to be done. "I'm scared Michael." The back of his throat tightened. "I need your help.'

Michael took a deep breath. Anxiety emptied from his body; he had earned JT's trust again.

"You need to get the journal, JT, and I'll teach you how to read it." Michael labored to sit up in his bed. "I'll teach you more of the secrets I have Iearned from it."

JT picked up the journal. Though it appeared new in Bruinduer, he felt the history between its pages when he opened it. He smelled the leather and paper as the cover fell open, and he was reminded of the Shorts' farm. He also caught a fleeting memory. A vision flashed before his eyes. For a reason he could not explain, he remembered a man, one that he recognized but did not know, who opened the book in front of him. _Wake up sleeper_ , he heard in the back of his mind.

JT took a deep breath, "I'm ready."

"Your grandfather wrote his stories as he experienced them, but I am not sure he knew what he was giving away while he was writing," Michael started. "You see, in each of the stories there is a meaning that ties everything together, a larger story. It is a road map to what Bruinduer is all about."

"What's that?" JT asked.

"You'll find out." Michael coughed. "Turn to the story where your grandfather wrote on March 13."

JT turned to the beginning. "I read this before. I can't believe what that madman started."

"Right, JT, the madman. But if you read it in a larger context, your grandfather is talking about all of us. He explains that not only is the Munch capable of doing these acts, but, if they are not vigilant, other men are also capable of them—even ourselves. Humans, not just one isolated man in an isolated country, have the uncanny ability to commit atrocities. Your grandfather writes that, if he looks deep into himself, he will be able to hunt the creature down."

"So you are saying that my grandfather is built the same as the Munch?" JT asked.

"Exactly," Michael confirmed. "But your grandfather also alluded to what would help him in his quest."

"God?"

"Yes, JT. God," Michael answered. "God is the one thing the Munch does not rely on, that your grandfather did. He knew that he could gaze inside at his evil side to catch the Munch, but he also knew that the Munch did not care about God."

"This sounds familiar," JT observed.

"Yes. It is very familiar," Michael responded.

"When you met Charlie in Bruinduer, you identified with the Munch more than Billy. You used that to turn from Billy. You found out about—"

"You are right, JT," Michael interrupted, sighing. "We thought we could control it. We thought we could do better than the Munch and better than Billy. We didn't think he was real. I know better now."

"So Billy is—?"

The room's door was flung open, revealing Homer. "There is someone here to see you. Tread carefully; he is only a messenger."

JT entered the large hall of the Egleese. A young man stood just outside the hole in the glass, in the blistering wind and snow, with a basket of fruit. He was no more than eleven years old, one of the few children JT had seen in Bruinduer, besides himself and his traveling companions.

"I bring you peace," the young boy began. JT identified his light accent as Caribbean, possibly Haitian.

"What do you want? Why are you here?" JT kept the questions civil but firm.

"You are invited to the Balance." The young boy held out the fruit.

JT snapped and threw the fruit to the ground. He jerked the boy by his collar, but the boy did not flinch. He went limp into JT hands.

JT wanted to scream and beat Kali's location out of him, but he could not. He looked over the boy, who probably had no idea why JT was acting like he was, then gently let him go.

"Where and what is this Balance I am invited to?" JT asked, trying to soften his voice.

The boy looked confused, as though JT should know the answer.

"Tell me what the Balance is." JT's voice grew louder.

"Please." JT heard Homer's voice from behind. "Run along, young man. Tell your master that he will be there."

The young boy glanced at Homer, shaking with fright, then turned and darted off into the blinding snow and wind.

Homer placed his hand on JT's shoulder. He could feel the uneasiness in his stance. His back was rigid, but his shoulders were slumped. He buried his chin into his chest.

"I really need help." JT did not turn around, but he took comfort from Homer's touch. Homer had to be Billy.

"You have help, JT. You are not alone. I know it feels that way. It feels like the world is crumbling in on you and there is no one there to help, but that is not true." Homer's voice was gentle. A sweet smell hovered over his robe.

"Michael is injured. Arthur—who knows where he went, and you... I know you'll only tell me that I have to find out this and that on my own. I'm sunk." JT's voice wavered and cracked.

"Turn around and you will see your helper. It is usually the unexpected ones around us who actually have already helped and are willing to do more. As I think I heard somewhere before, all you have to do is ask."

JT felt Homer pull his shoulder to turn him around. His heart almost bounced through his shirt. Homer was Billy, so now, when he turned around, JT hoped he would see the giant monster that blew up his grandfather's door or a gallant knight on a horse, ready to cut through his enemies.

Without hesitation, he whirled around. Homer had vanished. JT saw Jenny coming out of the room where Michael lay injured.

"You?" JT asked, his voice trailing off at the end. He felt as though he had lost a bet.

"Me?" Jenny responded.

"You're going to help me get all of this straight?" JT asked sarcastically. He couldn't believe that Billy would give him Jenny to help.

"Of course I'll help you, JT." Jenny's voice cracked. "That's why I came here with you, right?"

Jenny had helped him save his grandfather's house, but JT had no idea what lay before them and what obstacles they'd find.

As Kali had once said, Billy was playing one of his games. JT still could not remember much, but now he knew what she meant by the statement. If his grandfather was right and Billy was anything like God, then what was the deal? Why not just have Billy figure everything out and fix it, like JT had asked so many times before?

"Homer gave me this piece of paper with where we need to go." Jenny walked over to JT and gently gave him the letter.

My dearest JT,

As I told you, what lies before you is riddled with danger and pain, but, because the emotion I know you feel for Kali, I feel you are willing to see this through.

You must return to the castle when the moon rises over the tree line. If I am right, that will be about two hours from now. Within the walls of the palace, there is a square. In that square, you will find what you are looking for, but be warned, you will not like what you see. You will want to act, but I beg you not to. The time will not be right. Listen.

How is a writing desk like a raven?

Homer

P.S. Wake up, sleeper!

JT's knees hit the ground. The amber haze he had seen before, the amber haze he had sought along this journey, pleasantly flooded his brain. The time, his time, ran backwards.

Flashes of his life passed before him. He flashed back to the courtroom with Jenny. Time ran back to when he, Michael, and Kali stood in front of the mahogany door before their first trip to Bruinduer. It ran back further and the wind blew as he stood in the cold outside of Warhead Dale. He felt Billy's breath singe his cheek. The time ran back as he and Michael drove away from the Shorts' farm. The time rewound as Michael drove up the dirt service road right before he met him for the first time. Present day JT had a flash of a thought: that had been the exact moment his life changed.

Time rewound faster and faster. He remembered time he spent washing George and Gracie. He remembered times he spent with Louise and Gregory on the porch of the farmhouse in the summer or admiring a rare winter's snow. He remembered plowing the Ol' 22 with Gregory and Gregory's lessons about life and how to be a man. The clock rewound more and he remembered Louise driving him out to the farm, while he gripped his cane tightly, feeling nervous about barely remembering who he was or where he came from. He remembered his doctor talking with him and telling him that his mother had died in a terrible car crash. He remembered a blond boy visiting with him one night he could not have remembered before. He remembered lying on his back staring at the roof of an ambulance racing down the street, the paramedic telling him to hang on and keep breathing, just a little longer.

The scene slowed down as he felt a sharp pain shoot through his head and his knee, then he rose out of a wooden porch and his eyes forced themselves upward. He heard a terrible noise. A sound of metal crunching, bending, and ripping tore through his ears. Then, as he looked forward, the time loop stopped and began to play forward in slow motion.

He could see it right before him. He thought hard and believed he could actually touch the scene if he reached far enough. He saw a truck, a large water truck, just feet from his mother's car as she finished backing out into the street. His arm stretched out in front of him. He could feel the regret gorge his body.

Then he wanted time to rewind further. He wanted to remember before the accident, but the time slowed to a halt.

Just like that, the time moved forward and flashed before him in what seemed like a few seconds. A flash of light burst in his mind and he heard a loud scream. JT woke up in Jenny's arms.

_She sure is beautiful_ , he thought.

She had wrapped JT in furs. "Are you okay?" Jenny asked. Her eyes twinkled in the cold and she smelled fresh, her breath still had a tint of mint.

"Yeah," JT answered. "You found me."

He felt warm in her arms. Then he flashed back to the sands of Bruinduer, where he and Kali lay in the debris field of the Bridge of Common explosion. He knew he had to get to her.

Jenny turned over the piece of paper Homer left, and they found a small map that led to a secret passage to the castle. JT fumbled around, gathered himself, and rose to his feet. He shook some warmth into his body, then he and Jenny disappeared in the frigid twilight.

# Chapter 19

The darkness fell as JT and Jenny arrived at the castle. They followed the map around to a lesser tower. The moon had not risen over the tree line yet, but the night was clear so they should see it soon. The cold pricked their skin and pine branches whipped their faces, the piney scent keeping their eyes wide open as they scampered down an embankment to where the map indicated the tower's entrance waited.

The heap of brick had no door, not even an outline of a door.

"No door," JT mumbled.

"Well, there has to be something," Jenny answered. "I don't think Homer would have given these directions if there weren't." Her energy was contagious. The two of them scraped their hands up and down the base of the tower, searching for anything that might be like an opening.

The whole time, JT's mind seemed stuck. _Why is a raven like a writing desk_? flashed into his thoughts, followed by, _Every living creature needs this to live_.

He looked up and down. It seemed hopeless to him, but Jenny did not give up. The moon broke over the top of the treetops and a trumpete fanfare blew across the walls, deep and rich. Startled, birds flew off the walls and out of the trees and into the night. The muted sound of a large crowd erupted afterward.

JT needed to get to the top, no matter what. He had to see. He scraped his hand over the brick tower one more time and felt a brick out of place. It jutted out in sort of a step. Then he felt more carefully, going straight up from the brick that stuck out. He felt another, higher brick that protruded just as the lower one. Another brick rose from the wall's surface above that one as well. It was a ladder.

Jenny and JT climbed and as they crested the wall, the moon's entire circle cleared the trees. Full, the moon shone brightly, illuminating the square and the thousands of people crammed into its bleachers. Great torches burned before reflective silver sheets like mirrors, making the area even brighter. The square looked like a stadium lit for a big game.

The crowd cheered and the mood was jovial. People gathered just as though it was a sporting event, laughing, joking and generally enjoying each other's company.

The center of the square held a perfectly square stage some five to six feet high with two poles in the middle, about two or three feet apart.

JT took this in quickly, for, as the moon totally cleared the tree line, another trumpet fanfare blasted into the clear night. Jenny and JT, their eyes barely peering over the top of the wall in front of them, watched the proceedings in the square below.

A wild, short man with an orange suit walked onstage. The crowd cheered, and the man acknowledged them, waving his hand and tipping his orange hat to them. Soon, the crowd fell silent, giving all their attention to this man standing on the stage alone.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" the man yelled. Though distant, his voice carried in the clear night air.

"His Royal Highness King John has called this Twelfth Day of Atonement for all to witness once again, for with it, we will rid ourselves of the bitter cold and ice this unanticipated winter has brought us. There is Evil in our land and it must be purged."

The crowd cheered and gawked.

The scene turned dark and, in JT's mind, played out in slow motion as he saw the men lead Kali out upon the stage, her arms tied. The crowd chanted some undecipherable chant. The noise grew muffled as JT's vision narrowed to a tunnel. He tried to comprehend what was happening in front of him and the multitude of people. His heart raced and his mouth turned dry.

Two men untied Kali's arms, then tied them again to the poles protruding from the stage. JT could tell that they pulled the rope tightly; Kali grimaced in pain. Though her face showed the pain, she shrugged to keep her emotions at bay.

After Kali was bound, another man came onstage, dressed in a medieval robe of lavish purple furs. JT recognized him as the Munch. He walked with quick steps, obviously overjoyed at the events that were about to take place.

To JT's surprise, he waved a long, brown, leather whip into the air.

The tip cracked the cold night air and JT blinked. The Munch raised the whip and cracked it across Kali's back. _Pow!_

At the sound, the back of his neck knotted in sympathy. Jenny squealed.

_Pow!_ The whip cracked again across Kali's back. JT stood up, moving toward Kali, though he had no idea if a way there existed or not. He seriously thought of jumping over the wall, but stopped just as his foot hit the edge. He scampered about in panic, mumbling and groaning. He had to get to Kali. His breath became sharp and his mind raced.

_Pow!_ went the whip.

JT glanced at Jenny, who watched, petrified, clasping her jaw. Her lips looked slightly blue; she had forgotten to breathe.

JT grabbed Jenny, holding her tight as his eyes welled up and he began to cry. He had no idea what to do next.

Just as the whip came down again, a hand reached up, and the long, leather strip cracked around the wrist, the arm pulled, and the Munch, shocked, flew forward.

Snow began to fall in thick flakes and the crowd's mood turned. The sounds of anxiety mixed with fear rose into the cold night.

JT could only feel relief; Kali's beating had been stopped. The crowd, however, grew more anxious. As soon as the Munch was pulled from the stage, lightly armored guards rescued him and seized the perpetrator who had dared wrench the whip from the air before it could tear across Kali's back.

The guards pulled the man onstage. The Munch leapt to his feet and grabbed the man by the throat. It was Arthur.

"Daddy!" Kali yelled.

Somehow, with pure will, Arthur broke the monster's grip and ran to his daughter, still tied to the poles. He held her close, stroked her hair, and kissed her forehead, as tears fell from his eyes.

"What is this?" Arthur begged. "What in the hell is all of this?"

The Munch laughed as he raised the whip again.

"I don't know, Daddy. I don't know. I want it to stop," Kali gasped. "But it never stops."

The whip snapped and cracked across Kali's back. She grimaced and yelped. A tear trickled down her cheek. The crowd seemed relieved that the beating started again. Arthur held her close, yelling protests. The Munch raised the whip again.

Arthur, in his anguish, turned to hold Kali from behind, so the whip ripped through his own back. He screamed as the pain shattered his entire body. Tears poured from both Kali and Arthur's eyes.

"I love you, Kali," Arthur cried. The whip ripped his back again. "I am sorry that I was never there before. I am sorry that I picked others before you."

"I love you, too." Kali took a deep breath.

The beating continued. The crowd looked on intently. Their concentrated interest on the spectacle made it clear that they believed this act, though brutal, was necessary and good.

"Enough!" The word rose powerfully above the crowd. Arthur's back was split open, welts visible through his ripped, blood-soaked shirt; his eyes had swollen shut. Kali's eyes were dry from crying, her voice hoarse from screaming.

A hush rushed across the stadium. Homer, in only a white robe, unaffected by the cold air, walked out onto the stage.

The Munch obeyed the robed man's command, though he appeared disappointed that he had to stop his torture.

"Kwaida would not like this," Homer told the Munch, his voice was soft.

"Kwaida sponsors this," the Munch responded. "We've had this discussion many times, old man. Your place is in the Egleese, not here, priest."

"Your understanding of Kwaida is very mistaken," Homer answered.

"No. The old texts say that one must bear the burden of the ills of this world so the rest of us may rest, live, and die in peace," the Munch said sternly.

JT could hear the conversation, as could everyone in the arena. He didn't know how, but the words were clear. His heart pounded in his chest. He could not get the vision of Kali and Arthur's torment out of his mind; he could still hear the sound of the whip tearing thought the cold night. He held Jenny close.

He felt grateful to Homer and knew now that he must be Billy. _Why doesn't he just kill the Munch right now?_

"At what cost?" Homer asked. "Do you really believe that the blood of this innocent will bring peace to this land?"

"It has so far." The Munch spoke more confidently. "These people obey me while this innocent, and now her father, allow for the people's hurt to be healed."

"Then why does it snow at this moment?" Homer inquired. "Why is there cold in this world, when you have beaten this child for so long? You may not have the peace you think you have or for the reasons you think you have it."

"But we have given everything to Kwaida. This must be the answer." The Munch raised his whip and cracked it again across Arthur's back. The crowd breathed in.

"Perhaps it is not," Homer answered. "Perhaps you do not know Kwaida quite like you think you do."

The Munch gripped the whip. "Yes." He thought for a moment. "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps heaping our pain on these innocents is not enough." The Munch grinned from ear to ear. "Perhaps if we kill these innocents, we will restore Kwaida's faith in us. Yes, that will do it."

The Munch raised his whip. "Kwaida will hear us! Our pain will be placed upon these two innocents and we will kill them. Then our pain will be completely extinguished and we can live in peace with Kwaida forever!"

The crowd cheered.

Homer said nothing, though tears ran down his cheeks.

JT screamed, though his voice could not be heard. "No!"

Jenny held JT tight. He thought he might drown in the pain of his heart; Jenny's presence helped keep him afloat.

JT did not know what happened after that in the arena, for he and Jenny climbed back down the brick ladder. They made their way back to the Egleese without a clue what to do next. Maybe Homer would be there and have some sort of explanation of what they had just witnessed, but JT felt that no answer would satisfy him.

People filed out of the arena peacefully and went back to their homes, hoping that their pain and suffering would be paid for by Kali and Arthur's blood.

Jenny and JT made their way to Michael's bedside. Michael's thoughts seemed more organized, despite his obvious pain. He grimaced as he turned in the bed to face JT. Homer was nowhere to be found.

JT tried to stay calm, but he could not hold the tears back.

"What happened?" Michael asked. "Did it go okay? Did you find Kali?"

JT couldn't say anything. His jaw trembled as he tried to get the words out. Finally he mumbled, "They beat them."

"What?" Michael's voice became louder.

"Michael, it was horrible," Jenny began. "They led her out onto this stage and actually whipped her. I don't believe it. It was horrific. That awful man whipped her." Jenny buried her face into Michael's side.

Michael's eyes closed, then he peered up at JT over Jenny's head. JT could only nod, tears flowing down his cheeks.

"Why?"

"I don't know, Michael," JT began. "For some reason the people in this kingdom believe that it will heal them and that the snow will stop and that they will continue to have peace."

"Impossible," Michael answered. "Homer said that was just a tale. I don't believe it."

"That's what happened," JT replied. He sat in a chair in the corner of the room. "Now..." His voice faded; he could barely speak. "They're going to kill her. They're going to kill Arthur, too."

"Arthur?"

"Yeah. He jumped onstage to try to stop everything—Kali's beating. They just whipped him, too, and now they are going to kill them."

"Where's Homer?"

"Don't know. That Munch or whatever that thing is said that Billy's behind all of this. He said that he basically wanted all of this to happen."

"He said Kwaidy or Kiki or something," Jenny said with her face still buried Michael's blanket.

"Same thing," Michael answered. "Billy is Kwaida."

"Then certainly he can stop this," Jenny responded, her voice begging.

"Yeah. That's what I've always thought, too," JT said. He sank his face into his hands. "Anything in that journal that can help us now?"

"Of course," Michael answered. "I told you. Everything you need is in that book."

JT held the book again. Patience was not his strong point, no matter how hard he tried to pretend it was.

He remembered their first adventure in Bruinduer. Kali had mentioned that she loved knights and ladies and the romanticism of "once upon a time." Even in a fantasy world such as the one that surrounded him, JT wondered if fairy tales always ended the way she would hope.

JT handed his grandfather's journal to Michael, who immediately turned to the back. There, a very neat pouch held a stack of pictures. He flipped through the pictures and pulled one out that JT had seen so many times recently, the one of his grandfather and a dark complexioned man in their robes of feathers and animal skins.

"Turn it over," Michael said.

JT flipped the picture over and once again read, "Me and Jato, purification ceremony, 1972.'

"There, in that picture, is a ceremony that can purify this land. It will bring closure to everything and make you a part of the covenant with Billy."

"What?" JT asked, confused. "I thought all we had to do was complete a task."

"That's right, JT," Michael explained. "The ceremony is a task in itself. You see, there is nothing you can really do to gain Billy's trust. No task is great enough—no gift, no good deed. That's why the people drawn to this world keep coming back. They want to possess it and that is not the key."

"Charlie and I tried to do the ceremony." Michael's voice became soft.

JT stared, his heart racing. He thought Michael had told him everything.

"We failed, obviously. We wanted to purify ourselves to make us one with Billy. But we didn't know what that meant. We felt that if we did the purification ceremony, Billy would see us as equals. Boy, were we wrong. Charlie wanted to use the purification to take Billy's power away. He wanted to take his place. From what you've told me, it seems that the Munch knows that that won't work, so he's trying to purify this land by placing its sorrows and pain on Kali. I have to think that's not quite working, either." Michael turned to a page near the back of the journal and began to read.

August 25, 1972

Today was a day I hope to never forget. Jato and I swam in the ocean. But this was no ordinary swim. For the first time, we have purified ourselves from the land that the Vryheid called Bruinduer.

Billy has seen fit to let us dwell in his presence as long as we must, as long as our days in Bruinduer last. You see, we are only allowed so much time in the land.

It seems that our time could be limitless since the only obstacle is to open a door, but we have lived whole lives behind the Mahogany Door. We have loved and fought, and we have done some wrong, so, to be reconciled with that land, we must purify ourselves. We must swim in the water and repeat to each other that we shall never enter the land again.

We asked Billy to join us, but he promised that he was there regardless.

This process was bittersweet for us. We discovered something that I am sure we were never meant to find or, in some cases, make. I am most certain that it was not the Vryheid who created that world.

We laughed and danced. We told stories of our adventures and dressed in the robes of Jato's ancestors. For our sins of Bruinduer have been wiped clean and we may live in peace if we choose to do so. The man that helped me find this world, the man that destroyed the real world, and I have now finally become reconciled.

"You see, JT, you can purify yourself from this world. We can wipe the slate clean," Michael stated.

"But there is only one problem," JT interrupted. "The Munch will never leave, so I am sure he wants to pile his and this world's woes onto Kali somehow and purify himself that way. This world can give you anything, remember?"

"Yes, JT , that's correct to a point, but, after reading the journal, you know that can never happen. The only way we can make it happen is if we get the Munch to leave Bruinduer, whether he wants to or not."

"Yeah, but just like you experienced, Michael, the power in this place is too great. He'll never give it up."

JT hung his head. He could not get rid of the sight of Kali and Arthur being beaten by the Munch. JT's hands felt hot. The scent of perfume hit his nose. "I guess we'll have to kill him, then."

Michael closed the journal and stroked the back of Jenny's head. "I suppose you are right."

The night lingered. JT read some more of his grandfather's journal by candlelight. The stories, epic in scale, were nothing he could ever have imagined, but then, he realized, he was living them, too.

Slowly, without haste, he fell asleep. He had no idea what would happen in the morning or the rest of the day, so he hunkered down and buried himself under blankets. He was comfortable, if only for that one—possibly last—night.

His head swam with thoughts and hopes for the future, maybe even a future with Kali—if he could save her.

The morning came and JT left comfort behind. JT peeked his head out the window; the air smelled fresh and new, but that smell bore witness to the brutal cold that engulfed the kingdom.

He could see no movement, so it was impossible for him to know what the citizens felt. It was obvious to him that none of them had ever seen the land in this condition before.

He and Jenny piled on clothes and armor. It was difficult to move, but the only way they could travel.

Michael tried to rise, but he felt dizzy and Homer ordered him back into bed.

Horses waited for Jenny and JT. They mounted and walked them out into the bitter cold that now blanketed Bruinduer. The beasts reminded JT of Gabriel and John, the two horses he and Kali rode from Triton to Godwin to warn Michael of Charlie's attack. JT held the reins and patted the horse's neck as though it were his old horse friend. "Good boy."

The horse, responding to JT's calm confidence, gently trotted into the harsh weather.

Almost no time passed before they came upon the castle. With the roads empty, the land was beautiful from one side to the other. The white cover of snow mad the overcast day bright. The ice hung like Christmas decorations and elaborate natural sculptures. The powder crunched beneath the horses' hooves in a steady tempo that eased JT's nerves. The sound kept his mind on something other than the task before him.

They arrived at the castle's gate uneventfully, but, as they dismounted, the gates opened. They were expected.

A single man walked across the square. Dressed in white, he blended in with the frozen Vryheid land. His feet moved beneath the snow as his legs dug and ploughed deeply with every step.

As he arrived to the gate, the lone man threw back his hood. The Munch himself had come to greet his guests.

JT reached for his sword, but, with one gesture, the Munch froze him. Jenny tried to do the same, but, like JT, she could not move.

"No need to worry anymore, my friends. This will all be over soon." The Munch smiled and turned. He beckoned two guards, who disarmed JT and Jenny. They had no choice but to follow the Munch into the castle grounds.

"My people are at peace today. They know that, once the prisoners are killed, the land will be purified and this forsaken weather will be a distant memory."

"You can't control the weather," JT said.

"Oh, I tend to disagree," the Munch answered. "You see, Kwaida's world is perfect, but, for some reason, humans don't know how to live in it. They are nothing but destroyers."

"That's the pot calling the kettle black," JT said childishly.

The Munch laughed. At the inner gate of the castle square, he turned to his visitors and rested his arm on the gate. "Well, now, I am one not really to hold a grudge and I do care—I really do. I just believe that we need to play by the rules. So..."

The Munch pushed on the gate, swinging the massive iron slab open to reveal the arena where Kali and Arthur had been the night before. It was packed with people to the tops of the bleachers. The silence of one second became a deafening roar the next.

The Munch yelled, "I am all for second chances and, since I am feeling so generous today, we'll play a little game."

JT and Jenny stood there, horrified. They could not move a muscle. JT could only think of the terrible scene from the night before, watching Arthur and Kali be beaten. He could not fathom what the Munch had in store for them next.

"It is a really simple game, to tell you the truth. The one rule is simple: If you can save Kali—who is way up there in that tower over there—" The Munch pointed to a window in a very tall, ominous tower across the castle grounds. "Then this can all be over. You all can go home." The Munch smiled broadly.

"What's the catch?" Jenny asked.

"No catch," the Munch replied.

"You're not like that," JT fired back.

"How do you know that?" the Munch asked, his smile as bright as ever.

"I read my grandfather's journal. I know about you. I know what the dark side of a human can do," JT answered. "Plus... There's always a catch."

"Well, sometimes you can't believe everything you read." The Munch paused for a moment, scratching his chin. "On second thought, maybe you're right. Besides, the weather has my people depressed. They need some entertainment. There's no catch, because there is no way you will save Kali. Just like you read, JT, I always like to have a little fun." The Munch guided Jenny and JT into the arena. "Besides, who said I was human?"

In an instant, the Munch bounded onto the small stage to explain the game he had picked. JT's breath leaked out in puffs of fog. His nose ran and the smell of tens of thousands of people floated in and around the arena.

The crowd separated as the guards led JT and Jenny into the square. He knew this feeling, he remembered the walk through the crowd to Michael's castle in Godwin.

They arrived at the stage, where he and Jenny stood, mesmerized by their surroundings. He thought about the day before and the beating. He couldn't believe it had actually taken place and these people had condoned it.

"I will make this speech short and sweet, because that is what this display will be." Like a politician lying, the Munch explained, "This young man and his friend have declared they can rescue us all from the grips of agony and sorrow by saving our young princess and her father."

JT knew that he had said nothing of the sort; his back tightened and his palms became sweaty from holding back his anger.

The Munch continued. "All they have to do is go to that tower, right across the grounds, and claim their prize."

The crowd collectively sighed and laughed. No doubt the Munch painted this scene for his subjects' entertainment—and as a blatant show of his control over events.

"Well, go." The Munch smiled and shooed his contestants. "We're waiting."

The crowd fell quiet as JT and Jenny made their way carefully toward the tower. The dazzling white snow covered the tops of the castle and the smell of fresh pine sap wafted about. The wind blew through the gray sky and the mail JT and Jenny wore jingled, echoing off the walls.

Sighs and whispers rumbled through the massive crowd. JT knew there was a catch to what lay before him. He remembered what Michael had told him.

The tower where Kali waited was much farther than what it appeared. Their breathing suffered as they fought their way through snow wearing heavy mail.

"I have no idea what is going to happen, Jenny," JT said as they came to a stone wall that circled the tower, some twenty feet high.

"I understand," Jenny said.

"Just so you know, you may have the ability to use your sword in ways you never thought you could," JT explained. "You see, in this land, somehow you become what you think you want to become. A warrior is one of those things. I feel it right before combat—well, at least, the last time I was in combat I did. I could just fight like a seasoned soldier. I don't know how it happens, it just does. Use it to your advantage and let it happen." JT felt grateful for whatever had restored his memories of Bruinduer.

Jenny said nothing.

_Why is a raven like a writing desk_? The thought shot through JT's mind in a snakelike whisper. _Every living creature needs this to live_.

JT reached his gloved hand up to the handle on the gate and pushed. The gate did not open. He planted his feet into the snow the best he could and, with Jenny's help, pushed until the gate finally gave way.

He stepped through first, then Jenny followed. The snow crunched and, behind him, he heard the crowd utter a collective, "Ooooo!" He did not know why they made the sound, but he was certain, just like his last time here, that nothing was as it seemed.

JT could not see out of his helmet; he just could never get used to wearing one. He took it off and the bitter air pinched his cheeks, turning them bright red. A rush of cool, fresh, biting air entered his lungs. He coughed and the helmet hit the ground with a clank.

Mysteriously, the gate door behind them slammed shut. _Wham!_

"And so it begins," JT muttered.

"What?" Jenny asked.

"Stay close." JT marched toward the tower some two hundred yards in front of him. The tall, circular brick structure suddenly appeared to be two hundred miles away.

"I don't think this is going to be easy." He picked up the pace as fast as the mail would let him and kept his eyes forward.

An eerie feeling draped the grounds. JT felt uneasy, as though something dire—or, at least, something eventful, was about to take place.

"In fact..."

The feeling wrapped JT like a present on Christmas morning. A loud thump pounded the ground behind the tower and vibrated the earth under their feet.

"I know this isn't..."

JT's legs kicked beneath him and he reached for Jenny's hand. Just as he caught her glove and pulled, the word slipped from his mouth.

"Run!"

The mail felt cumbersome at first, but, just as JT had explained, Jenny soon felt the skills of a seasoned warrior take over her body. It felt odd, but then the experience became comfortable. The armor that had been somewhat awkward now moved with her body effortlessly. They plowed through the snow, over the ground, toward the tower.

JT heard it first, but he didn't believe it—or he didn't want to believe it. A solitary voice from the crowd in the arena sounded over his beating heart and pounding lungs.

"Dragon!"

_Thump!_ Another pounding step rolled across the land, lifting Jenny and JT off their feet. Jenny stumbled to the ground and rolled. The cold snow found its way inside her mail, numbing her skin.

JT remained balanced and unsheathed his sword. He ran toward the tower, plowing snow in his wake. As long as he kept himself between the dragon sounds and Jenny, he felt he could keep her safe.

A growl rose from behind the tower, climbing into the crisp air like a volcano about to erupt.

In a flash, the dragon took flight. A collective sigh sounded from the arena as the massive creature ascended into view.

JT froze in his tracks and peered into the sky, lowering his sword. The brown and gold dragon glared down at him. JT could have sworn the dragon appeared to recognize him. It hesitated, hovering in the air. The wind from its amazing wings buffeted JT, finding the chinks in his armor and clearing the snow beneath his feet. It took a tremendous amount of JT's strength just to keep from being blown to the ground.

JT made a move toward the tower and the dragon dove to the ground between JT and his destination. _So, the creature is protecting the structure._

JT gazed back at Jenny, who remained lying on the ground, too scared to move a muscle.

"Jenny!" JT yelled. "Keep lying still!"

"Not a problem!" she yelled back.

JT charged at the dragon. It had landed on its hind legs and stood tall in an attack stance. JT, waving his sword above his head, forgot one important thing about dragons.

Dragons breathe fire.

The flames launched from the creature's throat and JT, with no shield, did the only thing he could, he rolled to the ground into a tight ball, his back toward the flames.

_Every living thing needs this to survive_. The thought looped through JT's brain. Was he supposed to solve it now?

JT couldn't think.

_Water!_ The answer seemed logical. Water put out fire and every creature needs it to live. JT felt the cold snow bite his skin.

Snow is made of water.

He compacted snow together into a ball about the size of a grapefruit. _No way_ , he thought, _is this possibly going to work_.

He grabbed the snowball and flipped over. Just as the dragon was about to release another ferocious, blistering stream of flame, JT flung the ball of frozen water toward the monster's massive mouth. The snowball hit its mark, the dragon choked, and its flame was extinguished.

JT felt proud of himself as he got up and ran toward the tower again. "I don't believe that worked!"

The dragon coughed and stumbled. JT ran under its legs and found the tower's entrance. He grabbed the door.

He had forgotten one other thing: Jenny.

The winged beast did not waste its time on JT, who was behind it. The creature had spotted Jenny crouching in the snow, staring up at it with innocent eyes.

The brute coughed, sparking its flame. It shot a bright, hot stream some one hundred feet in the air, making the crowd in the arena gasp.

JT started working his way back to Jenny, but then he remembered Kali. He thought that if he could just reach Kali, maybe the Munch's sick game would end.

He had to choose.

JT suddenly remembered why Homer sent Jenny with him.

She did not fully believe in her new ability to use her sword, so she did the only thing she knew how to do—besides die in a dragon's mouth.

Since JT had met Jenny, he believed her voice to be one of the most annoying he had ever heard, but what sweet sound he heard next put him at ease, too.

A faint melody rose into the bitter cold air. JT could not hear it clearly at first, but it grew stronger. Jenny sang a song to hold the dragon at bay.

I will remember the time I first held you

It was the first time that I finally knew the truth

But by December, from my arms you were gone,

But in the morning, daylight will come.

Jenny repeated the chorus a few more times and the dragon halted in its tracks.

It tried in vain to attack Jenny. It started to slam its feet and head down onto the girl and eat her, but it could not. Its eyes turned sad and the monster circled like a cat or dog, then curled into a ball and lay beside Jenny.

The sight mesmerized JT—and the crowd in the arena. No one knew what to say, including the Munch. The evil creature had set the rigged game in motion, a game he knew he would win, but he could not change it now.

A golden tear dropped from the dragon's eyes as it fell asleep. JT sheathed his sword, turned, and made his way to the top of the circular staircase of the tower to reach Kali.

The thought hit him again. _What do all creatures need to live?_ This time, the answer found him. It wasn't water, food, or even air; it was a heart.

JT ran up the stairs. He felt a new confidence in his step. In the back of his mind, he hoped that the Munch might actually keep his word and that, when JT reached Kali, he could walk out of Bruinduer free and clear.

He bounded up the staircase to the closed door at the top. He did not stop once he reached the top. He tightened his shoulder, shut his eyes, and crashed into the wood, bursting the lock, chains, and any other devices that might have secured the door.

The round room at the top had one teardrop-shaped window large enough to let air in, but too small for a body to squeeze through. A candle burned in the corner on a small writing desk beside a canopy bed draped in fine white silk sheets and blankets. In front of the writing desk, staring down at a small piece of paper, stood Kali.

Her head drooped and her fingers tapped the desk.

She had not reacted at all when JT crashed through the door. She turned to him, a frown frozen on her face.

JT stood still, petrified. He did not know how to react. Kali stood there in front of him, finally. He had pictured himself running to her, holding her, kissing her, and then leaving as quickly as possible. Now he could only wait and follow her lead.

Kali patted the sheet of paper, then sat at the desk.

"Hey, JT," she said. Her clear voice still felt distant.

JT's body shook. He did not know why he felt so scared and nervous. "Hi." His voice quivered.

"Please. Sit here and talk with me." Kali pointed at the bed.

JT jingled his way across the floor and sat at the foot of the bed. He felt a tingle shoot through his body. He knew Kali had lain there; her scent filled his nose. The lavender fragrance he so remembered made his arms go weak. He wanted to hug her, but he could not find the courage to reach for her.

When Kali spoke, she spoke softly. The words created an uneasy emotion in JT. Though different and uncertain, he liked it.

"I'm sorry it happened this way," Kali said.

"It's okay, Kali, but we really need to go." JT gestured toward the door, his voice cracking. Though he knew they needed to leave, he also wanted to stay. Being alone with Kali was good. It was what he wanted.

"My knight in shining armor," Kali responded. Her smile made JT melt even more. He remembered her being very opinionated and headstrong before, but now she spoke with no malice or sarcasm, no hatred or judgment. "When we were younger, I always thought that our days would be full of adventure forever. I never thought it would end up like this." Kali shook her head.

"When we were forced to leave Athens Eden so long ago, everything changed. My dad thought he was a loser, worthless. He thought he could not offer anything to his family. He never realized that all he had to do was be my dad. He didn't have to do more. We never wanted anything from him, but he reminded us every day how much he needed to support us, to give us nice things, to fill the hole he had made when he lost the case with Michael." Kali sighed. "I never cared about any of that. At first, my mother didn't. either. Then she listened to him. She changed and began to care about material goods. She pushed him to give her nice things.

"He was never the same after that. He went deeper and deeper into depression until my mother had him committed. But it did not matter to her. She got what she wanted. She got his money and even more insurance."

JT listened intently. He wanted to make her pain go away. "Did I know anything about all of this?"

"I did write you a few letters after we left, but when I never got anything back..."

JT couldn't believe it.

"I know you can't remember anything. I don't blame you." Kali smiled.

JT still felt ashamed, but Kali's smile made him more comfortable.

"I went to college," Kali began again. "I swore off men and joined groups that despised them. I got involved in a lot of things that I really don't want to talk about, but I was so angry. It is ironic that I believed what those friends told me and tried so hard to rid myself of men, but here you are to save me. I was such a fool. And now it's too late. I'll be dead soon."

"Not if I can help it!" JT exclaimed.

A noise rumbled up the staircase. JT sprang up from the bed.

"You have to get out of here," Kali said, her voice suddenly frantic. "Don't worry about me."

"Not without you." JT unsheathed his sword and bounded to the door of the small room.

"JT—" Kali started.

"Not now," JT responded.

"JT, listen," Kali said again, this time with more force.

JT secured the door the best he could. It was still busted from his entrance. He searched around the room in a frenzy. He took his sword and chopped off one of the posts from the bed.

"JT, please, you have to stop," Kali begged.

"No!" JT yelled as he tried to barricade the door by shoving the bedpost under the lock to wedge it shut. "They will not hurt you again."

JT ran toward Kali.

"JT, stop," Kali said, her voice much calmer, almost as though she wanted to give up. "They aren't after me."

JT edged closer to Kali. As he reached for her, the castle guards blew down the door with no resistance from JT's makeshift wedge. JT tried to pull Kali close, but his body went right through hers.

Once again, Kali was not there. He turned to look at her. Kali peered back at him, then dropped her eyes and frowned.

JT heard the Munch's voice. "Got you." And a laugh boomed out.

JT and Kali stared at each other. Obviously, she had not wanted this to happened, so she must have had her reasons for allowing it to happen.

"Very good." The Munch's voice came out of thin air.

Kali's vapor turned and walked across the room, disappearing into the distance. In her place, the image of the Munch moved forward, stopped, and then stood where Kali had just been.

"This world is so unpredictable, so powerful. It is even unbelievable, to some extent. That is the biggest drawback, even though we can accomplish such cool things. Like this."

The Munch pointed at his ghostly body, then went in and out of phase, like an old TV screen popping off and on. "The land still has its limits."

JT squirmed in the arms of his captors.

"For one, this whole steward of the key thing. I mean, if it weren't for that itty bitty rule, I could just kill all of you. But, since you were smart enough to give it to Kali—well, killing is just that much harder than the real world.

"You know all of the beatings that she has taken since we've been here? I had almost gotten her to relinquish the stewardship. I mean, I was that close..." The Munch spread his index finger and thumb an inch apart. "Until you guys showed up. She has put up quite a fight, but never mind. Tonight is the night." The Munch smiled. "There are other ways that the cane's powers can be relinquished."

JT remembered one of his dream conversations with Ol' Captain Luke.

"I will just kill her and take it. I mean, killing you will be easy. Killing everybody will be easy, here. But I did have to make a deal in order for me to get the stewardship from your little girlfriend."

"So you just wanted the stewardship of the key? I thought you beat Kali like that to bring peace to the poor people of your kingdom," JT remarked, his voice trembling.

"I just want power. Just like everyone else. Just like your grandfather."

"My grandfather was a great man!" JT's temper blazed.

"Your grandfather was a fool!" the Munch argued. "And a greedy man." The Munch lowered his voice. "Why do you think he kept wanting to come back to Bruinduer? If the man did not want this land's power and what it could give him, your dear grandfather would have stopped and gone on his way." The Munch paused. "Your grandfather did neither."

JT broke from his guard's grip and charged the image, but passed through the vapor. He crashed against the wall and bounced off of it. His head swam and his anger grew. "Billy will take care of this. You wait."

'Ha! Billy or, should I say, the mighty Kwaida? He had his chance, but he takes no side. He does not care as long as people cry to him. They cry, but he still does nothing. I am here to take care of them, to make sure that their cries are heard. We suffer from this weather, but I kill you and take care of the weather. If it does not change, then I blame someone else and take their lives or I change how the people here live. They will still look to me, because I have an answer; because I am in power. You should know how this works by now."

The Munch turned abruptly away from JT and disappeared.

"Bring him to me." The order shot through the air of the room.

# Chapter 20

The overcast sky brought out the details in the snow-covered land and ice-covered tree branches. It looked picturesque, like a postcard, right down to the fresh, cold evergreen trees that dotted the hillsides.

When the guards brought JT out of the tower, Jenny still sat curled near the dragon, which lay sleeping beside her, its head at her feet.

She shivered from the cold, continually humming the same melody she had sung, keeping the beast at bay, though her notes were shaky and fearful. She feared what would happen if she stopped her music.

The guards walked with JT past the dragon and he caught Jenny's eyes. He bobbed his head toward the sleeping dragon, then looked back at Jenny intently, trying to convey the idea with his eyes. Then he shot a look toward the guards.

Jenny shrugged her shoulders, still humming her tune. She had no idea what JT was trying to tell her.

JT did it again, looking from the dragon to Jenny and then back to the guards, but Jenny appeared even more confused.

JT gave up and spoke out loud. "Stop humming."

Jenny shook her head.

"It'll be okay," JT responded. "Trust me."

"Quit your bellyaching and move." One of the guards prodded JT.

Jenny snapped to her feet and stopped her humming. She ran toward the gate with one of JT's guards sprinting after her in a flash.

The guard only made it a few yards past the dragon, when the beast awoke. It snapped the guard up in its mouth, ripping him in half with its razor teeth.

The crowd gasped.

JT worked his way free from the other guard and broke toward Jenny, who the dragon had decided to chase. The Munch had posted guards by the gate, who now ran away as fast as they could. Some were so frightened they did not even go through the open gate, but climbed the wall to escape.

The guards' screaming and clanking armor caught the dragon's attention. It shot its fiery breath and burned the guards until they were all dead. Then the beast focused solely on Jenny.

"Start singing again!" JT yelled, but Jenny was too scared.

The dragon launched into the air and flew over to block the gate. It crept its way back toward JT and Jenny, slithering and hissing, its grunts heard across the valley.

JT grabbed Jenny and reached around her waist to unsheath her sword. Then he moved her behind him.

JT looked into the beast's eyes. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. He had seen that expression before. He had seen that look of despair in the hospital room in Maryland and then here, on the face of a man protecting his daughter from the brutal strike of a madman's whip.

Could it be?

The dragon threw itself toward JT, but JT moved out of its way, taking Jenny with him. He felt his heartbeat through his mail. His pity and intuition would not let him attack the monster.

"Kill it!" Jenny yelled, her voice frantic.

"I can't!" JT responded.

"Why not?"

"Because it is Arthur!" JT answered.

"What?"

Together, they dodged the animal's shots of fire breath and dashed toward the gate.

Can it really be Arthur? But how?

JT heard his confirmation in the form of a booming laugh from the Munch on the other side of the gate. The crowd cheered.

"What's it going to be, JT?" The voice of the Munch rose over the crowd. "Will you kill or will you be killed?"

JT could not think about what to do next. He did not care about himself at that moment, he only cared about Kali. _Where is she? Is she okay?_

Everything happened fast. No matter how quickly JT and Jenny dodged the dragon's wrath, the dragon—Arthur—matched them. Certainly, in his state, Arthur did not know what he was doing or why.

"Arthur!" JT shouted out, hoping the dragon could hear him. "Don't do this! How did this happen? What do you want?!"

The dragon did not respond.

JT thought fast, but again his thoughts turned to Kali. _What will she think if I kill her father? What will happen to us?_ Too many thoughts swished around in his mind. _What should I do? Where is Billy?_

Finally, the dragon cornered them. Jenny stood between JT and the gate, now shut. He pressed her against it, trying to shield her with his body. He could hear her cry as the dragon crawled carefully toward them.

Paralyzed, JT didn't know what to do. If he started to sing, if he could find the breath, it would probably just make the dragon mad.

Time stood still. It was either them or the dragon. He knew the beast was Arthur, but he also knew that the creature was not the man JT had met in the last few days; it was not Kali's father.

JT also knew the Munch relished this. That monster, with his fur robes flowing and his condescending attitude, knew nothing but destruction and pain. JT was willing to swear he was the devil himself.

_Please forgive me._ The thought ran through JT's brain. He didn't know why it was so difficult to act. Homer had been right; whatever happened would be painful. _Why can't I just be a normal guy?_ Normal guys did not have to face a menacing dragon who was also the father of the woman they love.

_Please forgive me._ The thought rushed and compressed in his thoughts. He had no idea what Kali would think of him after he did what he needed to do. She would certainly hate him forever.

_Please forgive me._ If Billy was more than just the essence of Bruinduer, he knew what JT had to do. Was there any other way to beat this difficult decision? Why did he, the all-powerful, put these obstacles in front of them?

JT brandished his sword. Unfazed, the dragon rushed toward JT and Jenny. JT ducked and thrust his sword toward the beast's heart.

JT knew the answer to the first riddle; every living creature needs a heart to survive.

The dragon lurched back, squealing in pain. JT pulled the sword out of its chest. The blood ran red and thick.

In a moment the dragon toppled and fell to its side. Silence fell over the square and the surrounding area. The cold wind blew over everything.

JT looked upon what he had done and his heart sank. He wished he could have had the moment to do over again. He wished he had never brought Arthur on his quest. As JT stared at the toppled dragon, the animal began to change. As he and the rest of the crowd watched, the beast transformed into the broken, bleeding, motionless body of Arthur Logan.

The gates swung open and the crowd cheered.

JT dropped his sword. Jenny ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you for saving me."

JT felt his heart wrench. He had killed Kali's father. He knew he probably would lose her love.

The crowd lifted up Arthur's body like a rag doll, while the guards seized Jenny and JT and took them to the stage in the arena.

As they marched, the Munch yelled in their direction. "This is amazing, JT! You see? I don't have to do anything. You do my dirty work for me!"

The crowd cheered.

JT knew the Munch put him in a no-win situation intentionally. If he had not killed Arthur, he and Jenny would have died for sure. What would Arthur have done if JT had been turned into a dragon ready to snatch up Kali in his teeth? Had there been another way?

Drums pounded and echoed through the arena. The day had passed; the moon would rise soon. The arena smelled like any ball game or carnival JT had ever attended. Food, tobacco, and an assortment of body odors, from sweet perfume to a putrid socks, wafted through the air.

As the guards led them to the stage, the crowd yelled and spat at JT and Jenny. One second before, they had been aghast at the tragic scene with JT and the dragon, but now the mob wanted them to die to end the country's suffering.

JT kept his head down. He could not look up. When he stood at the edge of the stage with his eyes to the floor, the guards tossed Arthur's broken, limp body onto the hard wood. He looked away from the pitiful sight and, as the woman he loved was marched up the small stairs, he glanced at her. The beautiful blue eyes of Kali Logan stared back at him, full of sorrow, wanting, and pain.

"Now this is a reunion worth waiting for," the Munch announced as he strutted his way across the stage with his arms held high and a smile on his face. He jerked his hands, gesturing for the crowd to get louder, and louder they became. The noise rose and cut through the early, cold evening.

"The beauty..." The Munch waved toward Kali. "...and the least." The Munch turned and pointed to JT.

The crowd went hysterical with laughter.

"Are you okay?" JT asked Kali.

"What have you done?" she asked. Tears welled up in her eyes as she gazed upon her father lying on the stage, bleeding and shattered. She ran to his side and fell to her knees.

"I had no choice," JT called to her, but the crowd was too loud for Kali to hear.

Just as JT started to yell the words again, the Munch glanced at JT. He raised his arms for silence and the noise stopped instantly. JT's words rang out clearly and hit Kali like a ton of bricks.

"I had no choice!" JT tried to call back his words, but they cut Kali to the heart.

Kali knelt, saying nothing, but clenching her hands into fists as tears fell from her eyes.

"I had no choice," JT whispered. Jenny placed a comforting hand upon his back.

"What was that?" the Munch began. "What was that? You had no choice?" His tone went dark and gruesome. "Of course you had a choice. You could have died yourself. Then Arthur here would still be alive and Kali would not be all hurt like she is. Seems a little selfish to me!"

The crowd cheered and the Munch responded. Then he placed his mouth right next to JT's ear and spoke in a clear, calm voice. "You did have a choice. Look at this crowd and how they react. I don't have to do anything. You just make it all bad on your own."

"We both would have died!" Jenny screamed out.

"The little lawyer is back!" the Munch announced. "But shouldn't you sacrifice your life for the ones that you love?"

Jenny and JT bowed their heads. They both wondered what would have happened if they had sacrificed themselves. Maybe everything would be okay and Arthur would still be alive. But then again, maybe it wouldn't.

"I am sorry, Kali," JT said. "I chose myself."

"Me, too, Kali," Jenny added. "I am selfish. I chose myself."

"No worries," the Munch said. "You're all gonna die anyway."

The crowd launched themselves into a frenzy. Kali jumped to her feet and ran to the end of the stage, her face twisting in pain. She covered her eyes with her hands.

Worried, JT pulled away from his guards and ran to her side. Jenny squirmed loose as well and ran close behind JT. The three of them gathered around Arthur's body. JT reached for Kali's hand, but his hand passed through hers once again.

"What?" His eyes bulged from his skull. Why wasn't she there? Why was Kali still a vapor? He couldn't take his eyes off of her. His own face turned to grief. He knew the end of his life was near and he would not be able to hold the woman he loved for the last time.

The Munch rose up, uncoiling two large whips studded with razor blades; their sharp edges stuck out from the leather like metallic thorns. He danced around the stage, getting the crowd worked up and spinning the weapons in the air like a helicopter.

Jenny screamed, "No!" Tears streamed down her cheeks. In a flash, she saw the first whip flick. Then the blades raked her face, slashing her skin.

JT, unmoving, gazed at Kali. He did not care anymore. He loved Kali and, though he could not touch her, he could at least gaze at her while he died. "So much for the romance of knights and ladies."

_Why is a raven like a writing desk_? The thought floated through JT's brain. He tried to listen to the question, but it did not make any sense to him at all anymore. At that moment, the answer didn't even matter to him.

Kali's transparent hand floated in the air and JT pretended to hold it. He let his mind trick his heart, until he could actually feel her soft hand in his. He let himself remember how she felt in his arms as they lay in the sands of Bruinduer after the Bridge of Common exploded.

Blood, red and warm, splattered on the stage beside him and on his arms. JT heard Jenny's body thump to the hard boards. The air went dead silent. He could hear the whip rush upward behind him and then thrust forward across the stage toward him. He could hear the metal of the razor blades whistle in the air as the whip approached.

JT did not know if the whip ripped through his skin or not. As soon as he heard the crack, time froze around him. Nothing moved. The arena flashed yellow. JT felt like the sun had burst through the clouds to warm his skin. He fell to his knees.

The Munch stood like a statue with a large smile on his face and the whip ripping toward JT. Behind him, Homer stepped onto the stage.

Behind the priest appeared Michael, wearing a white gown with a bright smile upon his face. Then he saw Jenny lying motionless and bleeding at the far end of the stage. He ran to her side and cradled her head in his arms, his white robe turning red from her blood.

Homer's demeanor did not change. His steps were soft, calm, and deliberate; his eyes were bright and warm. "JT, my son." He paused and nodded as he stopped beside him. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

JT kept his head down and shook it in disbelief. Homer's voice comforted him, but he had no interested in solving his riddle.

Had he really witnessed what just happened? Had he just witnessed Jenny being sliced in half? He did not want to, but ultimately he came to the conclusion that he had died. He could not possibly be standing in one piece.

Homer chuckled a bit and circled JT. As he came around to his right, his footsteps became quieter, lighter on the wood.

From the corner of his eyes, JT, still looking at the wooden floor, saw two small bare feet land in front of him. A tiny, tender hand reached under his chin and raised his head up.

JT could not believe his eyes—or the ones that stared back at him. In front of him stood the little blond boy he had met on the Shorts' farm, Willy.

"JT, my son, a raven is like a writing desk," Willy said, his small childlike voice speaking in a mature cadence. "Because we are what we are."

The small boy grabbed JT's hand and pulled him to his feet. He walked over to Kali, who stood petrified, frozen in time while looking where JT had been standing, her face filled with utter horror. Her eyes reflected the pain of losing another loved one in a matter of seconds.

"Kali is a perfect example of what I mean, JT," Willy began. "She is lost and feels she has no purpose in this world or any world. You have been feeling since you set foot on the Shorts' farm. It amazes me that so many of you feel that same way, so useless and worthless." Willy reached for Kali. "You could not be further from the truth. You try to control things. You try to believe that you know everything, when you know nothing—as if knowing nothing somehow is a bad thing.

"You are what you are. Just like a writing desk is meant for writing on and a raven is meant for flying in the wind, bothering vermin, and eating whatever it sees. You all have a purpose. You all are connected. You are what you are, just as I am what I am."

Willy passed his hand through Kali's body and she moved again. Confused for a second, she soon realized who was standing in front of her. She smiled, then looked over at JT. He walked to her and tried to hold her, but, still, she was a vapor.

"Kali, my dear," Willy began, walking over to Jenny and Michael. "You cannot save yourself, no matter how hard you try. And, JT, you cannot save Kali either. That is why you find yourself incorporeal, my dear. You fear that someone may control what you do, so in this world, where you still have some power as the steward of the key, you keep yourself like a ghost. You seek a place where you belong, but are not sure whether you would be better off living or dying. And, JT, no matter how you try, you will not be able to save your friends. That, my friend, is not your job. The best you can do is to be there for them. And trust me when I say that that is plenty."

Willy knelt and passed his hand over Jenny's hair. Within a few seconds, her wounds healed, closing and sealing as though nothing had happened. When she opened her eyes and saw Michael's face above hers, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Willy chuckled like a schoolboy, rose to his feet, and knelt beside Arthur, who still lay on the hard wooden stage.

"Arthur, my dear." The little boy placed a graceful hand on his back. "You cannot protect your daughter from the world and you cannot save her, either. My poor friend, you have done your job, but it is time for you to come out of your daze and be the father you should be. That's all your daughter wants. She does not care if you fail, she only cares that you love. And that you love her."

Arthur turned over and sat up.

Kali and JT could not believe their eyes.

Arthur smiled at them all.

"Are we dead?" JT asked Willy.

"No," the small boy answered, chuckling again. "You are my witnesses."

This time Willy took Kali's hand. She looked surprised that she could feel the small hand squeeze hers. He gently placed her hand into JT's. JT began to cry, then laugh, and Kali followed suit.

JT grabbed her waist and held her tightly against him, then swung her around in the air. She was real again, solid and human. The couple's happiness was contagious. The rest of the group laughed and danced as they stood in the bright, yellow light, its warmth caressing their souls.

Willy winked at JT and the rest of the group, then walked gingerly to where JT had stood before the whip crashed into him. The leather strap with its razor blades, hung above his head, locked in time.

"What are you doing?" JT demanded, his laughter turning to a growl.

"You will see," Willy answered. Without wasting a second, he snapped his fingers and spread his arms out wide.

Cold, frozen air replaced the warm, yellow light. The gray of winter returned. Snow fell; a flake even landed on JT's nose.

"No!" JT reached for Willy, but he was too late. The Munch's whips ripped through his small body like knives through butter. As each whip struck, JT felt dizzy. He could not stand. He stumbled to the stage, where the little boy named Willy fell limp, drawing his last breath.

"What?" the Munch sounded confused after what had just transpired right in front of him. "What was that?" He ran toward the small boy. "No, who was that?"

The Munch towered over the small boy. The expression on his face made it clear that he realized what he had done. He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. He appeared to know who the young boy really was, for he realized he had lost.

"So be it." The being called the Munch, turned, dropped his whips to the ground, and walked toward the entrance to the square to leave. The crowd went quiet as quiet could be and waited. They did not know why or what for, but they waited.

JT swam in the dark. This time he truly believed he was dead, but something felt just a tad different in his thoughts. He could not put his finger on it, but he sensed that something might change in his mind. He felt comfortable in the dark, more relaxed than he had ever felt in the land of the Vryheid.

He heard footsteps behind him. He heard the whisper that he heard many times in Bruinduer. He believed it to be Billy, but he also heard a higher voice with a slight lisp that might have been Willy. It was different, friendly and warm. He heard the words and then his dark world changed. " _Wake up, sleeper_."

Like a lightbulb exploding when it is too hot, a flash cut through the darkness. JT's brain opened up. The memories of his whole life emptied into his mind. Every memory that he had forgotten, every person he had ever met before his mother's accident or after his mother's accident relentlessly filed one by one into his head.

He tensed his neck, feeling pain and joy at the same time. The memories triggered emotions with those memories. He remembered his father and the day that he left for the airport. He remembered the man in the black suit who told him his father was dead. He remembered his grandfather and the adventures they had and, most importantly at that moment, he remembered everything about Bruinduer and everything in his grandfather's journal.

He laughed, he cried, he screamed out, he was hysterical inside of his mind. He actually remembered the day he met Kali, the day his mother died, and he remembered why she cut him off from the outside world.

It overwhelmed him. Years of memories exploded behind his eyes. He wanted to stop at every one of them and visit, but the recall was relentless.

Time stood still, then a giant light blasted from the stage in the arena. The cold blue and white of the Bruinduer winter released into a golden spring. The temperature swung and the crowd in the arena panicked. They knew that something major had changed, but they did not know exactly what. Many people rushed from the castle while others watched to see what happened next.

It happened fast, for JT came back to himself and leapt to his feet, his demeanor changed. He had been reborn and, without a doubt, he knew he was in total control of his mind and actions.

He eyed the back of the Munch's head and yelled for him. "Hey, coward!"

The Munch stopped and turned back. The monster stared at JT, visibly scared. JT had not seen that before, but now he knew the monster's past.

"I know who you are, Jato Bindi!" JT yelled out. There was a pause in the air and then yelled out again. "Jato Bindi...Junior. "That's right! I know who you are. I know you are not a Vryheid. I know you are the little boy that carried the basket of fruit to my grandfather's team. The messenger of his father that lured my granddad into Bruinduer so many years ago! It's the eyes. Your father realized death was a gift, and I know he's dead. You look just like him!" JT marched toward the man he now called Jato and the man shook.

"I never really understood children or how to be a child."

The Munch reached for his whips, but recoiled as JT came up to him. JT easily grabbed the Munch's arms and ripped the whips from his hands.

"You of all people should know that Bruinduer is not a real place, Jato. You knew that I couldn't remember what this was all about, but that has definitely changed, now my friend. To think my grandfather trusted your family after all of that. He forgave your father for his wrongdoing. Why did you not continue that legacy?"

JT swirled one of the whips above his head and lassoed the Munch around his hips. "I really apologize for this," JT said. "But it has to be done." JT paused for a second and peered up to the sky as though he were thinking. He snapped his head back down and eyed the Munch. "On second thought, I don't apologize. You know better."

JT pulled on the whip until the Munch squeezed together and, with a pop, disappeared.

JT wheeled around to gaze on Kali with pitiful eyes. "I'm so sorry."

Arthur stepped toward his daughter. They stood in front of each, face to face, neither knowing what to say to the other or, more importantly, how to say what they were feeling.

"I've waited what seems like an eternity to say this, Kali," Arthur started, his voice soft. "I just want you to know that I tried as hard as I could to make you proud of me, but after this incredible adventure, I understand that I can't save you now—only one person can do that, I believe.

"I tried so hard to protect you and, in the end, I couldn't do either one. I should have just been there for you, to love you, to hold you when you needed to be held by your father. I never should have taken you for granted. I just want you to know that I am truly sorry for everything that I didn't do right and I love you.'

"Oh, Daddy," Kali said. "I wish I could have been a better daughter for you. I wish that I would have taken those walks with you and let you be my dad." Kali ran to her father's arms.

"Kali," Arthur said. "Nothing was or is your fault. You were the perfect daughter, because you were and are the perfect you."

"I love you, Daddy."

Kali and Arthur rocked back and forth, held tight in each other's arms. Michael and Jenny held each other and, for a brief second, JT cracked a smile, but he could not help feeling overwhelmed by the emotion at the scene.

His memory was back. He liked it; he savored the memories and wanted to protect them. He knew exactly what to do in Bruinduer and how to do it. A memory of his last adventure in Bruinduer against Charlie flashed in front of his eyes. His heart skipped.

"Oh my god," JT said out loud. His smile went flat.

Michael released Jenny and went to his friend. "What? What is it?"

JT looked at Michael and shook his head. "I don't believe I let you do what you did the last time in Bruinduer."

"You have your memory back?" Michael guessed, his voice shaky and concerned.

"Uh, yeah, I do, as a matter of fact," JT confirmed. "And it is amazing."

"JT, I tried—"

"Save it, Michael. It's in the past now, right?" JT's voice sounded more confident than it had since he could remember. He went over to Michael and hugged his friend's shoulders, laughing and crying. Michael looked a little confused at first, but the feeling was contagious. Soon he hugged his friend as well.

"I missed you, Michael. You are my best friend." JT buried his head into Michael's shoulder.

Tension and pain released from Michael's chest. He had finally found his friend, the way he remembered him. Being with him felt right again. He had done it. Tears flooded from his eyes.

"Bruinduer," JT said, beginning to smile. He pulled Michael in front of him. "Bruinduer."

"Bruinduer," Michael repeated out of habit. The rest of the group repeated the word. "Bruinduer."

JT went to Kali and hugged her. He kissed her mouth and his body became weak. "Before I lose my mind completely, I just want you to know that I love you."

Kali said nothing, but smiled at JT. In spite of the torture she endured, her eyes sparkled. She knew that she loved him, too.

"Arthur," JT said after a moment with Kali. "I think I can help you, but I don't know if what I have planned will work, exactly."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked.

"Well, everyone who enters Bruinduer, must leave Bruinduer. And, like my good friend Michael over there," JT teased, "Reminded me earlier, there is always a catch. He is right. You see, when we leave Bruinduer, you will return to the way you were before you entered, so you will be catatonic—the way we found you in the hospital. And, in case you had forgotten, we are actually twenty three years old and you are fifty-five."

Arthur did not speak. He took a deep breath, looked at the ground, and smiled toward his daughter. "It's okay; I don't mind. I said what I needed to say. I can leave here in peace. Besides, I have never had such a wonderful adventure."

"Well, I don't want that to happen." Kali threw herself into JT's arms. "Can you do something, JT? Please."

"I think so, but you know what you have to do, right?" JT asked, his voice assured.

"Anything," Kali answered.

"Just make me the steward of the key," JT said. "I believe I can do the rest."

Kali stood back and, in a nice, easy voice, said, "JT, I make you the steward of the key." She let out a huge breath, as though the weight of the world lifted from her shoulders.

"That's all I need," JT said, turning toward the assembly by the end of the stage.

"What happens to us?" called someone in the crowd behind him. One after another, the crowd responded to the question. "Yeah, what happens to us?" "Yeah, Yeah."

JT waited for a moment for the crowd to calm and held up his hands. The remainder of the crowd fell silent, staring at JT, the arena thick with anticipation.

JT knew how the adventure ended. He also knew that rule number 5 said that the people in Bruinduer are people.

With his memory back, JT knew that, as soon as he walked through the door back into Warhead Dale, the citizens before him would vanish. They were part of the world created to allow the first person entering Bruinduer to complete their task. Not even JT knew exactly how the people came into existence, but his grandfather knew that Billy had created Bruinduer, not the Vryheid. So logically, he assumed Billy created whatever the first through Bruinduer needed for that adventure, or even more likely, Kwaida, the Essence of Bruinduer did as he pleased.

JT spoke in a clear, loud voice that echoed across the arena. "Citizens of this land," he began. "I do not know what will happen to you as time moves forward, but I do know that something very special happened here."

JT looked at Willy's broken body lying on the stage, a perfect, child smile on his face. "You should remember it." JT took a deep breath and paused, scanning the crowd and peering at their empty faces. He did not know if the people actually knew what had happened or would even believe what he was about to say. "This boy died for you. He took the place of Arthur and Kali and the rest ofus, so that you may live in the peace you so desperately want and deserve. The Munch is destroyed. You can live your lives as you see fit."

The crowd mumbled to each other. JT did not understand exactly what they said to one another, but one citizen spoke up. "What if we forget?"

"Write it down. Let the scene live in your minds forever. Just be aware that this is a beginning and not an end. Know that, in this death, you have your peace.'

"Will we see him again?" the man asked, sincerely, as if he would miss him.

"I do not know the answer to that question," JT responded. "I can only say that I hope so."

The man gathered his friends and family, then walked to the stage. They surround the small boy and lifted him up. "We will bury him at the Egleese and build a monument in his honor, so that we will never forget. The posts will remain here as a symbol of the one who was willing to die for us."

The people walked out of the arena and into the night. A chorus of song lifted in the arena as they went. The citizens of Bruinduer knew complete peace. There was no need to wonder about the next beating. There was no need to wait for the next sacrifice. Payment was complete.

As the crowd filed out, following the procession bearing Willy's body, JT turned to the posts and stood between them. He bowed his head, rubbed his hands together, and clapped twice. A bright, white door opened.

He motioned for Michael, Jenny, and Arthur to walk through, for their adventure was over.

As Kali came to the door, she and JT stood silently and smiled at each other. They held each other and Kali laid her head on JT's chest. She heard his heart beat, lifted her head, and kissed him gently on the lips.

JT knew that he had found an angel and he would spend the rest of his life with her, from that moment on.

They took each other's hands and stepped through the white light and out of Bruinduer.

# Chapter 21

As in any good story, Brandy's parents stood at the doorway, beaming bright smiles in her direction, just as I finished my tale.

Brandy wiped her face, then looked up and caught their eyes. A smile crawled across her face and she leapt from my black leather chair, kicking over her empty mug. She stopped just as she came to them. She looked at them and they looked at her. Then Brandy's father and mother embraced their daughter.

"I'm sorry I left," Brandy said as she dug her face into her father's shoulder.

"It's okay, Bran. I am just so glad we found you okay. We were so worried, but it's all right now." Brandy's mom's voice was sweet and sincere.

The moment froze in time and I felt good. Everything in our little world was good at that moment, even if it only lasted a little while.

The family of three finished their embrace and headed in my direction, so I stood up. Brandy's father had a firm handshake and her mom's hug was inviting.

"Thank you so much for keeping Brandy safe and getting in touch with us," her mom said.

"Yes. Thank you so much. It is good to see you again," her father said.

"You are so welcome. I enjoyed visiting with Brandy. She is a perfect companion for a storyteller," I replied.

We talked a little more and I showed them around the house. We discussed the winter storm at the beach and the town I lived in. The pleasant conversation soon wore thin; the family obviously wanted to go home.

I walked them out to the gate, just as I had four years before. I could remember the little girl with the electric ponytail. Now grown, she held her daddy's hand just the same.

We reached the gate and Brandy pulled her father's ear close to whisper to him. "Of course," he said, gently releasing her hand. She bounced back to me, almost skipping as though she were that twelve-year-old I remembered.

"Thank you so much for telling me about Kali. I am so happy that she is okay. I still can't imagine the pain she endured."

Brandy looked much less worried than when I first saw her on the back walkway of Warhead Dale. "But I do believe that I have learned that everything will be okay—even in the hurt." She looked back at her parents, waiting at the gate.'

"Yes. She was quite okay, but I must warn you that we all go through a little pain in this world, just like your pain when you found out the truth about your adoption. In the long run, though, I promise it will be just fine. It may actually make your time and relationship that much stronger."

Brandy ran into my arms and hugged me. It was nice. "Thank you so much, Mr. Davis."

"No—thank you, Brandy. I hope you have found what you were looking for."

"Yes. Yes, I did." Her voice was soft and hopeful.

Brandy ran back to her parents and put her arms around their waists as they went out the big iron gate of Warhead Dale, her ponytail bouncing.

I nodded, turned, and went back into to my grandfather's old house by the sea. I thought about my friends, because the story had not ended exactly where I stopped telling it to Brandy.

We walked back through the mahogany door after confronting the Munch and watching Willy die, but what we found was not what it seemed at first. Something hadn't been quite right in the inner room.

I knew that the "game" had ended. My memories had returned with abandon. It was hard to sort the questions I wanted to ask everyone, but it was just as tough to file the returning memories that flooded my brain.

Though the memories were unyielding, I had planned to get back to Athens Eden and destroy the mahogany door once and for all. My grandfather was right. It was too powerful for humans to use—or even think about using. But, as my good friend Michael relentlessly reminded me, there is always a catch.

This time was no different.

When we stepped through the light, we flew in a stream of colors. Every color you could imagine whizzed by in a flash and we fell back into the inner room of Warhead Dale.

Kali, Jenny, Michael, and I, exhausted from our adventure, still were in our fifteen-year-old bodies and Arthur was in his thirty-five-year-old body. Like the time before, my mind went blank and I fell to the floor.

The feeling that I felt through my body and brain was like no other. Returning from the first adventure, I had been completely uncertain of the future because I never knew my past. This time—yes, this time the black out would be different. I felt myself smile as I hit the floor, because I knew exactly who I was.

As usual, I did not know how much time passed, but I woke from my slumber to an odd feeling and smell in the inner room, to say the least.

I struggled to my feet, for the floor felt unstable beneath me. I reasoned that I was still off balance from my return, but when I glanced up at the mirror, I was stricken with fear. I was still fifteen years old.

The floor shifted beneath me; I felt as though I rose and fell back down and hit with a thud.

"Michael, Kali, everybody!" I screamed. "Wake up!"

The movement of the floor became more violent. A thought rushed through my head, but the lingering memory couldn't have been true.

"What is it, JT?" Michael rubbed his head, his lisp much less noticeable than before.

Arthur threw up on the floor as it rose sharp and fast, then slammed back down. _Thud!_

Kali and Jenny crawled to the corner of the room. "What is going on, JT?" Kali sounded worried about the unexpected violent shifting of the floor.

"You don't think... Do you, JT?" Michael asked as he struggled to keep his balance.

I held my legs still and shifted them with the floor. Unfortunately, I knew precisely what was happening. Even though my mind still knew everything about my past, the calm sensation I felt as I blacked out now changed to alarm. Now my future was in question.

I had gotten my balance and, after Michael realized the predicament we were in, he found his balance quickly as well.

We went to the wall that divided the inner room from the rest of the house and turned to the right, to the stairwell that headed to the top deck.

With each step, the wood became a tad ricketier and then, with each step we climbed, the wood became a tad wetter. I stood on the top step and looked back at Michael. He looked at me. I shook my head and he shrugged his shoulders.

"Not my fault this time, man," he said confidently, even cracking a smile.

A short door stood closed before me. Drops of water squirted from the cracks around the jamb. I was afraid I knew what was on the other side; I just did not want to deal with it at the moment.

Finally, I clasped the handle with a shaking hand and, with my right shoulder, forced the door open. The wind howled, the rain fell sideways in sheets and stung my cheeks like a thousand needles. It was hard to take a breath in the strong wind, with the mixture of fresh and salt water spilling into my eyes and mouth. I looked up.

There was the sight I had feared. I had opened that blasted door atop the captain's stairs only to see the sails of the _Mary Maid_ struggling to stay filled in the raging storm.

The ship tossed and turned, heeling to one side and then the other. The bow lifted into the air over the towering waves, then slammed into the troughs. _Thud!_

I yelled the only words that I could think of at the moment, "You have got to be kidding me!"

The End

# Author's Note

Dear Reader,

The people who have supported me through writing this trilogy know who they are, because I thank them continuously. I am very lucky to have them in my life.

The people who did not support me know who they are, and I would especially like to thank them, because without them, I would have never found the people who did.

Always,

Mark

Webpages: www.facebook.com/jmarkboliek

For the cover artist: www.laurengallegos.com

Book 1: The Mahogany Door : www.smashwords.com/books/view/321037

Please stay tuned for the final installment of The Bruinduer Narrative:

### Return of the Pirate

