DOMINIC STEPPED FROM THE TRAIN, looking for his connection to Dover. He shook his head, tired and bewildered. The passengers meandering the platform were a cacophony of color and styles that hurt the eye. Lena trotted along behind him, hurrying to catch up. Her face was peaceful but focused. Guessing by her expression, the train station was safe for now. Unable to locate his changeover, he approached a uniformed woman he assumed worked there. Her cheap makeup and silly hairstyle reminded him of clowns he saw the last time he came to Earth.
"Just missed it, sir. Another'll be along in an hour. You could take a train to London and then over if you wanted. Wouldn't be any longer," the woman said in a high-pitched voice.
"Thank you. Is there a men's room around here?" Dominic asked, disappointed.
The woman lazily pointed over her shoulder. Dominic thanked her again and stepped into the terminal. He found the restroom, a filthy, cold space of gross tiles that was occupied by one brown sport-coated traveler. He wore brown trousers with brown shoes and combed his brown hair. The brown man eyed him with brown eyes, then returned to rinsing his comb. His brown moustache twitched. Dominic put his head down and made his way to the last stall, the wider cubicle intended for guests with wheelchairs. He couldn't expect Lena to stand outside with people coming and going, or with the strange character who was there, and he needed the space. She followed him without question, taking his hand and sticking close. Her expression changed to apprehension. Something was wrong. Her black eyes remained on the brown man.
"Shadowborn," she whispered.
Dominic squeezed her hand reassuringly. He closed them in the stall and dropped his pack in her hands. He sat on the edge of the toilet and ran his fingers through his hair. Now wasn't the time to engage trouble. He took a deep breath, hoping she was wrong. He felt so tired. The brown man was just another weirdo in a train station, never mind that he was suspiciously made of too much brown.
"We need to keep moving," Lena said.
Dominic nodded.
"Check the bag; see if there's more money," she instructed.
Lena peered through the crack in the door and watched the man at the sink.
"I think he knows I'm here. Wait—use the toilet. If you pretend you're peeing he might think twice," she said.
"What?"
"Just do it," Lena hissed. She covered her eyes and pressed her face to the door.
Dominic did as he was instructed. He didn't even know if he could go. He stood there, waiting, but nothing. The idea of her behind him locked down his bladder. Technically, he understood that he might need to go, as he had eaten and drunk the night before. However, he wasn't accustomed to what happened while travelling with temporary flesh in Samsara. His head tipped back and he stared at the greenish lights. An odd sensation followed. Dominic was delighted to find that everything worked just as it did when he was incarnated.
Zipping up, he kicked the lever to flush. Dominic sat back down. Lena jumped back, gasping as though she saw something beyond the door. She pressed herself to the tiled wall, slinking back, afraid.
"We've gotta keep moving. Check the money," she instructed.
Dominic pulled the purse from his pocket and sat on the toilet. Inside was a wad of paper notes wound into a neat roll. They had plenty. He just wasn't sure what they faced from there on out and if that roll was all they needed.
"There's enough cash," Dominic said to satisfy her.
"Count it," she urged, attaching to his leg.
Dominic did so and found the bills parted and parted. There seemed no end and the count continued higher.
"There's more than enough," he said.
That satisfied his guide. She lay against his arm silently.
"They said the nest of the turul. You mentioned an eagle in Germany. What if the nest is the home? A home would be the capital. We may need to go to the capital," Lena spoke, watching the gaps in the cubicle with worry.
"Berlin, yeah. When we get over the channel, we'll find a train to take us there. Right now, we have to get to Dover, even if we're walking. If we stay here, they'll corner us in," Dominic said.
"I can try to cloak you, but my energy might bring them to me and they'll know I don't belong here," Lena said, hugging his arm.
"Never mind that. I need to meditate and this is as good a place as any," Dominic replied.
"That man out there. I think he's shadowborn. He's trying to listen. If you meditate now, he'll know what you are," Lena said.
"Probably pissed I used the handicap toilet." Dominic smiled, pulling his arm free and setting her on her own feet a step away from him. He shut his eyes and tried to concentrate. "I suppose he has a right," he added.
Lena leaned against his shoulder, refusing to be separated from him. This show of fear didn't sit well in his gut. She was less concerned with the mudeaters who'd found them at the farm house. Dominic released a long exhale in an attempt to relax. All he needed was to pass a quiet hour in this cubicle. Joel told him he must rest often if he meant to keep his strength up and the burning at bay. The opportunity had yet to come. Whatever started the fire in his throat concerned the others, though they'd refused to mention it. He was going to do as he was told. He wasn't about to allow some brown rube who might be a shade interrupt.
Dominic fell into a trance quickly and it swept the weariness of the night away. His legs felt strong again and his feet no longer ached. The hunger pressing his gut disappeared. Floating in a cloud, like a warm blanket wrapped about him, he found a strange sense of peace. At first he thought Lena shielded him, but then he recognized the markers. The resonance faded, indicating that Maiel had reached out to him some time ago; it was unmistakable. He drew a deep breath, trying to smell her. She was warm and welcoming, unlike the burning inferno raging in his core. The image of a late morning entered his mind: he and Maiel basking beside the water in the gold shimmer of sunlight. Her face smiled back and then all went dark and she was gone.
"Hey! Ya gonna spend all day in that cubicle, mate? What if a cripple comes and needs it? Nice of ya to take it up on 'em? What? He supposed to piss himself?" A voice called from the other side of the toilet door. The man banged on it, shaking the whole unit.
"I'll be out in a minute. I'm not feeling well."
"Having a bender doesn't excuse ya to take up that cubicle," the man insisted.
Lena's grip tightened on Dominic's arm. He gestured for her to stay behind him. Looping the pack straps on his hand, he swung it onto his shoulder. They could sit in the waiting area with others, where it would be safe in the presence of their guardians and too many witnesses for shades to cause trouble. He could easily meditate, pretending to sleep.
Dominic exited the cubicle.
"Yar kind makes me want to puke. Bloody Americans! Ya think ya own the place. It's us who owns you."
"I don't want a fight. I'm out of there. Just go about your business. Nothing to lose your head over. No one was put out," Dominic said, trying to step away.
"I should pop ya one. My uncle's a cripple from the war," the brown man said, sticking his finger in Dominic's face.
The blood in Dominic's veins rushed. The damn vagrant had to go there. Narrowing his eyes, he stiffened his back and stood his ground. Subtle hints of sulfur floated off the brown coat, confirming Lena's suspicion. The brown man was a shadowborn, possibly a shadowalker, somehow hiding its true form.
"Yeah, that so?" Dominic replied.
"That's so," the brown man countered.
"That's a great disguise," Dominic said, straightening the man's lapels.
The brown man eyed him.
"But—uh—I know what you are. So, keep your ass fucking nose out of my face before I cut it off. I died in the war. You can't get more crippled than that," Dominic said with a sneer.
"Ya just try it mate. Ya fucking nutter. You died in the war, eh?" the brown man challenged, making himself appear larger.
"Wouldn't be a challenge at all," Dominic replied.
"Ya think, so mate? You're barmy ain't ya?"
"Why don't you go back to the shadow that shit you out and ask them if
I'm crazy," Dominic said.
The blade of his sword glinted in the shade's eye as he pulled it from the pack.
"What ya gonna do with that, love? I's only doing the right thing. It's not right taking up that cubicle. Yar mad," the brown man said, backing off and throwing his hands up.
Dominic grit his teeth. The jackass was no more than a troublemaker. He turned away and left the restroom, tucking his weapon back in his bag and hoping the brown man didn't decide to go to security about it. They'd drag him away to the madhouse for sure.
With Lena close to his side, Dominic found the waiting area, and there they made do until the next train to Dover. Dominic scanned the room and the other passengers. Their guardians stared along with them. Dominic continued into the room and most lost interest in them. A girl in a pink sleeveless sweater continued to track his movements. Her eyes were ringed with heavy black liner and her bleached hair went to her shoulders, where it curled up. She reminded him for a moment of a girl from home. Her paleness anyway. Grabbing her boyfriend's arm, she hid her face. The muscles of Dominic's face relaxed and he realized that he still wore a terrible scowl. With a regretful frown, he slipped his bag off his shoulder and set it on a chair by the windows.
Dominic stared at his blurry reflection in the glass panes. He stared a long moment, appearing to study the odd little garden beyond. The day grew long and they still had no idea where they were meant to go. In his mind, Dominic reached for the remnants of Maiel that he had encountered, but the markers of her essence were all gone. He drew the energy tighter anyway, until he felt stronger, then sat.
The spot by the window allowed a view of the whole room and its occupants. Lena took the seat on his other side. She clung tight to his arm, pulling her feet beneath her. Dominic wished he could hug her, or do something to assure her she was safe again. Even the smallest gesture of caring worked to relax his children when they were tired or afraid.
Exhaling his frustration, Dominic roughly pawed through his pack. Her head rested against his back and he felt the tension leave her. This would be over soon and she would be safe in the womb of her new amba, growing a real set of wings; then she would never be afraid again. A pair of erelas drew in close and cooed over her, saving him the worry.
In his pack, Dominic found a passport. The green cover bore the seal of the United States. He flipped it open and saw his picture inside. It looked familiar, like a forgotten possession of an earlier time. Reading the name filled him with sadness. Brian McAllister. It was the name he'd used during the war, before he died. He dropped the passport back in the bag and wished he had looked sooner. If Birdie or Guillian saw, they'd turn him in for a spy. Beneath a change of clothes and some socks, he found a gun. He didn't need to check to know it was loaded. The last item was a paperback atlas. The maps looked old and they held the names of places that hadn't existed for eons. He flipped the pages until he found Europe under the dates of the war. There were other pages that followed, ranging into the future. Going backward, the years regressed to ancient times. It was a handy piece of technology. Whatever map he needed would be at his fingertips in moments, but the gadget would never raise eyebrows, bound as it was as an old book.
Dominic looked around to see if anyone watched. The people were too busy inside their own heads to care. He dug the tickets from his coat pocket and read them over. The dates would be on there and he could then find the corresponding map. It was late October, 1960. It had been about fifteen years since he was last there. He scanned the room again. Though things had changed, the ghosts of the past always remained. At least the difference in time explained the odd fashion and hideous decor of the train stop.
Thumbing through the atlas, he found the map he needed. Once they crossed to France, the trip was nearly over. Berlin was no more than a couple hours away. If only the trains ran over the water, he thought, shutting the book and putting it back in the bag. He folded his arms, then rested an ankle on his knee. Finding a clock on the wall, he watched the seconds tick by. Time slowed.
"Ten o'clock to Dover, platform two," a voice called over a speaker.
Several people got to their feet and started out of the room. Dominic drew a deep breath. He hadn't realized he had fallen into a trance. Lena leaned on his arm, picking at the skirt covering her legs. He placed a hand on the side of her face and gave her a squeeze while no one was looking.
"Do you feel better?" Lena asked as they walked to the train.
Dominic cleared his throat, unable to speak without appearing completely crazy. He smiled a little, hoping she would understand.
"That man's getting on our train. He's looking at you," Lena said.
The brown man stood yards ahead on the platform. His sports coat stood out against the navy and black ones. He looked at them and got on board.
"We'll just stay back here and hope he doesn't bother us," Dominic said.
"I have a feeling he will."
"Don't be so optimistic," Dominic replied.
A woman stood in the door of the train staring at him.
"Sorry, just having a bit of trouble with a gentleman I met in the bathroom. Think he wants to rob me or something. Gives you the creeps. You start talking to yourself," he explained.
"Whatever floats your boat, honey. But take my advice. You should lay off the stuff," the woman said, forcing back a smile.
Dominic snorted and pushed past her. He found his seat and threw his bag next to him to keep a place for Lena if the train filled. He doubted she wanted to ride on someone's lap or stand all the way to Dover, however far it was. The door to the passenger car opened and the brown man entered. He scrutinized the interior until he spotted Dominic. A broad grin contorted his face in a horrific expression. Then, he walked toward them, placing himself in a seat diagonally behind theirs.
"I told you," Lena said uneasily.
"We'll be away from him soon."
"He's staring," Lena whined.
"Don't look at him."
Lena sat back and squeezed Dominic's backpack closer. She looked more worried than his introverted son Samuel on his birthday. He patted her hand and she inched closer to him.
The car didn't fill as he feared. They were virtually alone with the man stalking them. The only occupants were a few lone travelers and an elderly couple. Their presence would make it tough for the man to bother them, but he suspected the guy was about intimidation rather than action. He'd nearly pissed himself in the bathroom at the sight of the sword. Now he just pursued them to push a few buttons and see what they would do. He was just another jackass. Dominic remembered the gun in his bag. He knew how to use it, if needed. For him, witnesses were not a problem.
The brown man stood once the train was underway. He pushed into the empty seats behind them.
Peering over the head rest, he asked, "Yar one of those nouveau riche come here on tour? Backpacking or something?"
The brown man tried to grab the pack, but Lena held it tight. He sneered.
"I wouldn't do that," Dominic said.
"Why not?" The brown man threw himself down in the open seat beside them.
"You don't want to upset her. She's stronger than she looks," Dominic replied, watching out the window.
"Yeah—you're a nut, eh. She who?"
"I know you can see her. We both know I wasn't holding the bag, so why couldn't you take it?" Dominic said, continuing to look out the window.
He sighed heavily. When the brown man didn't answer, he added, "If you were just some prick, you'd have run off by now. But you're not, are you?"
Dominic said.
"Thas right, ducky. I'm big trouble." The brown man laughed.
"You'd like to think so, but you're just another lowlife jackass with a chip on your shoulder. Did your daddy spank you too much? Or did he touch you in other ways?" Dominic taunted.
The brown man's face turned red with rage.
"Which kind are you? Imp? Smoker? Mudeater? Let me guess, snake—no those ugly barbarian guys."
The man's eyes narrowed.
"Ah, yeah. I thought so. You need to get out of that seat before I let her show you her ugly side," Dominic pressed.
"I ain't moving, mate."
"You are—and you can go back to whoever holds your leash and tell them you never saw me," Dominic said.
"My boss'd make quick work of you," the brown man laughed, getting nice and comfortable.
"Which one? Belial—Morgentus?"
The brown man eyed him. He cleared his throat, pretending to laugh and get comfortable in the seat again.
"What'd they promise you? Probably a room full of money. So petty—so small. You could have at least asked for a kingdom. That's what I would've asked for."
"What're ya talking about, yar crazy."
"You know what I'm talking about. How much are you getting for your soul? Do you even have one—shadowborn?"
Dominic eyed the brown man.
"Don't ya call me that. Ya think you're special moving about with them lightwalkers. Ya think you have it all," he growled, betraying himself.
"I do and you have nothing—no matter what they pay you, you still have nothing."
"I'll have your red erela—like sweet strawberries in my mouth. I'll eat her and then I'll cut up that sweet flesh and really eat it."
"Romantic, but I have to let you know that she'd waste you to Oblivion before you laid a cell of skin on her," Dominic replied calmly and smoothly, despite the raging inferno inside him.
The brown man reached for Dominic's throat, but something stopped him. His angry features relaxed and he stared at Dominic without seeing. Lena pressed him back.
"You'll go to the front of the train and get off at the next stop. You've never heard of Dover and you've never heard of us," she told him.
The brown man's eyes blackened over. He looked frozen or dead under Lena's hand. Suddenly he stood and left the passenger car.
Dominic took a breath, relieved that they'd escaped the shade with no attention drawn. Lena stared at her hand, amazed by her triumph. A smile slowly blossomed on her tiny lips. Her fear left in the wake of learning of what she was capable. Dominic folded his arms and shut his eyes, boiling with anger as the shade's words repeated in his head. Despite his touchy mood, Lena placed her head on his arm. The warmth built in his throat. He pulled the coat tighter around him and it subsided. His attention slipped to the passing countryside beyond the window. Time was running out, and not just for Maiel.
* * *
Alex watched the lights of the city dwellings blink on, one by one, as the dark came. The long shadows and icy glow cast by the Perpetual Light made her feel cold. Her habit dangled at her side as her white hair waved in the breeze. Her dark eyes glistened with pain, but no other sign of her emotions touched her aged face. The sun set and her daughter was not home for another passing of the light. She just stared at the carvings, ribs, capitals, finials, and crockets. Her eyes traced the spires and buttresses, the mullion, piers and spandrels. Maiel could be found in none. All echoes. No breath.
Zach joined her at the rail of the balcony. He carried the same plain expression and bearing as his janya. Like him, there was no emotion that would cripple him into showing his concern to anyone. Grasping the rail, he leaned over the side and stared down at Zion. Far below he saw the inhabitants going about their duties and diversions. They seemed so insignificant; it was as if he could crush them with a stroke of his thumb.
"We won't see Gediel tonight," his amba said.
Zach shifted his attention to her. She stared at the distant skyline.
"The moon is just rising," Zach said.
"I'm afraid the task he's on will detain him longer than Mikhael said."
Alex turned away from the White City and went back inside.
Zacharius followed his amba and they returned to the room of ways. Joel and Zaajah kept their vigil at the kapalanum, watching Dominic's every move. They looked troubled, but said nothing when he entered the room. He stepped around them, watching and waiting.
Joel looked to Zaajah, then to him. He hesitated to speak, but his features didn't hide his emotions. Something had happened while they were away. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.
"A soldier has found him. It must be working with Morgentus," Joel finally spoke.
"We knew he would show his face at some point," Alex said.
"He may need us again." Joel looked back into the kapalanum. "He's not even found where she is yet. At this rate he'll have each of us drop by to clean up his mess before he leaves England," Joel continued.
"Then we trust Lena can do her job without us," Alex said frankly.
"She's just a youngling," Zaajah reminded her.
"Lena is very special."
"Special isn't a weapon strong enough to fight the Lord of the Labyrinth," Joel said.
"Dominic can't rely on us to help him every time he runs into a delay. Not anymore. Lena will be fine and has her instructions. I trust she'll be wise and follow them."
"This isn't about getting Maiel back, is it?" Joel asked.
Their amba folded her hands and avoided his gaze. As an alder she was privy to certain information deemed unnecessary for the legions to know.
Joel stepped around the font and stood before her, waiting for an explanation. He made an imposing figure, but she was still as tall as he and his amba. She looked to him with surprise that he would try to bully her.
"Of course it's about getting her back. It just isn't the only thing we're concerned with," Alex said.
"Amba," Joel growled.
"One thing you must always know, my boy. Nothing's ever written in stone until it is finished."
"You led her to believe she's fallen," Joel said.
"She wasn't going to play hide-and-seek with him for us, not with the reasons we could give. Your khata's a stubborn girl."
"You think Dominic has turned against us?" Zaajah asked, hardly able to believe such a thing.
Maiel would have known long ago if that were the case, and spoken up to them.
"No. It isn't Dominic we're after either. Although he shows curious changes that don't come with rising," Alex said.
"Well, it's no wonder, with what you've done to him. He thinks his family is about to fall apart. Zaajah could've told you herself that he loves her more than anything," Joel said.
Alex regarded him tellingly. He had just answered his own question.
"If he can't learn that his loyalty is a love greater than anything he now feels for her—and where that loyalty should lie, then, well—"
"Why do we even bother to find a ketu if this is true," Joel muttered, going back to the waters. He stared at the vision and shook his head. "It makes no sense to put him through this. He's been through enough. So has she."
"A divorce is unprecedented," Zach said.
"I know that you don't understand, because your loyalty is already proven and given. One half of a whole belonging to the light."
"My wife doesn't confuse me. Nor does Dominic's family confuse him," Joel said.
"If you labored with his experiences, you'd not be confused? If Cora turned on us and decided the other path was the way she was meant to go, you wouldn't follow her."
"Don't be so sure, amba. If Cora made such an insane decision—I wager I'd follow her to whatever fool's end."
"Very noble, but very untrue. We both know it."
"And if janya left you for the darkness?"
"I would expect any one of us to end his existence," Alex replied.
Joel was stunned. He stammered, trying to find the words to express his disgust.
"I'm not saying I wouldn't be sad or very nearly broken. I'm just sure that ultimately my response would be the same response I'd have to any other shadowalker, if not worse."
"Then they're both being tested," Zaajah said hopeful.
"You're going to side with her?" Joel asked betrayed.
"I would hunt Ibajah if he became a danava. I understand what she means. We stand for what is right. Could you just become one of them? Could you hold onto something that would never again be as it was? A cruel specter of your past? She would no longer be Cora." She paused, watching his anger soften. "There'd be no love. Whatever you had would be utterly betrayed. Cora would be gone."
Joel stared into the kapalanum, hearing the sense of what she said, but unable to reconcile it inside his heart. Perhaps Joel was just too close to both their khata and Dominic. He knew him for so long and saw his unquestionable devotion to his family. It was simply not possible he would betray them. When Joel thought of Corabael, he knew it wasn't possible either. Even if his heart was clouded by his affection for his own wife, he was sure he knew his khata and her husband had the very same bond. But perhaps they wouldn't be at this impasse if Dominic had faith in his path.
Zach turned his attention back to his amba. He strode past her, pausing to place a consoling hand on her shoulder. It must have been very difficult to use her family to flush out the shadow. Her dark eyes went to her eldest's and he saw the glimmer of indecision that caused her pain. It wasn't Maiel, however, that they truly worried about. Not directly anyway. Her husband had the council concerned. Since Joel had mentioned his suspicions in Walhall, he'd found himself doubting the man's ability to finish the mission. And, just like his akha, he worried that Dominic relied too heavily upon their hand to clear his path. He never tried to think his way through on his own, and at this point, taking the time to do so was a detriment. Joel didn't truly speak for loyalty to Dominic. He feared the loss of his khata. As her twin, that would be devastating.
Zach paced the room, looking to each arch, their symbols lighting up under the track of his gaze. He wondered if he should leave them and go to Gediel. He was sure the watcher didn't need his help, but it might make him feel better to understand where he was on the mission. His amba's admission made it obvious why Gediel was involved. Someone other than Dominic was burning down and he suspected exactly who. Gediel was a brilliant choice to sniff him out. An alder who burned down wouldn't look to Uriel's units for a spy. His eye would be on Maiel's legion. However, something else needled him. Dominic had stagnated for too long and experienced the symptoms of another path, all while a shade haunted their home. Dominic had failed to learn the skills he needed to rise. The mission could very well damn him and his khata. Zach suspected this moment would have been his rising, if things played out different, and that was what confused them.
Zach lowered his head and drew a deep breath.
"Akha," Joel said.
Joel and Zaajah eyed him.
"What troubles you?" Joel asked.
Zach stalled, carefully forming his words. This was nothing they didn't already know. He didn't wish to cause them more concern by not using the best explanation he could find. Stepping to the font, he set his hands on the rim and looked at the image they monitored so closely. Dominic was at least moving again and the adventure could still go entirely in their favor.
"You remember when I brought one of my assigns back? Jeremiah, the boy. I wasn't approachable for some time. I had trouble allowing them to follow through with his difficult path, until I knew exactly what the intentions were," Zach said.
"Yes, I remember." Joel folded his arms on the rim of the kapalanum. The azure liquid turned his golden features green.
"I still did what was asked of me. That's what we do, because we know we can't know everything. Our loyalty to the king—our trust and love for him is what holds us together. The day you let that go is the day you'll become a shadow. I care very much for the souls I guard, like you care for Dominic, and would let no one cause them undue pains," Zach said.
Not being family, Jeremiah may have been a poor example, but it was a time they all knew it was very difficult for him. A time that was similar in terms of the potential losses. He hoped the example would make things clearer to his akha.
"I understand that," Joel said irritably.
"Then trust our amba. There's a shadow that threatens our kingdom from the inside. It has come before and it will again. Let us do our work to be rid of it, so she may heal," Zach said.
"Your surety will see you rise quickly," Joel said, still raw.
"You came to me, suspicious of him first," Zach reminded him.
Zach and his akha locked gazes. He understood Joel's anger. Their khata and her husband were caught in the middle of it, with no knowledge of what really happened. Either of them, or both, could be lost to the darkness if things didn't go as planned. Joel would suffer profoundly and thus the dominos would fall.
"Should I find Gediel?" Zach asked their amba, still holding his akha's gaze.
"He'll come when he's found something. Let us just hope he's quicker than I've a mind to believe," Alex said.
Their amba set herself on the stonework between the gates, crossing her legs and adjusting her robes. There was no more to be said until he did return.