Kreios was glad Zedkiel had changed his mind about staying. He thought Zedkiel must have decided that, with the horde so close, it was not worth the risk. Zedkiel knew that Kreios would go after the horde and find out what was going on. It was the only way.

Kreios looked down at the soft eyes of his sweet baby girl and bathed his heart in her smile. She had her mother's complexion and soul, he could feel it. They want me? He could not believe it. He knew they had real y wanted her but he could not guess for what purpose-especial y since they had let her slip from their grasp so easily. He looked at his brother and they shared a moment of mutual yearning and pain.

Kreios broke the silence. "We wil go to the mountains of Ke'elei. In it there is a City where we can al be safe. They dare not go to it. It is one of the last places where our kind are free. I wil show you the way brother, but after that I must track the Seer. It is time we are rid of him and his witchcraft."

"I have heard of this place. I did not believe it was real. I believed that they had scattered us, al of us. I thought that the last of our vil ages had been either buried or taken to the sky for eternity." Zedkiel was lost for a moment in thought and reflection, during which his shining face dimmed and his eyes cooled, losing their pa.s.sion.

"...But you and I both know that there is no going back. We are outcast, cursed." He lowered his head and a tear ran down his cheek as he remembered the home from which he had been in long, painful exile. It had been a very long time, but the remembrance of the smel of perfect air, a sunless sky that never gave way to darkness, fil ed him with hope.

Kreios thought about it too, remembering when he had walked into the sea of crystal and let the cool white water flow between his toes. He remembered the beginning times, after they had been banished and El had turned his back on them. He had every right, but it stil cut him deeply into his very soul. "Remember, even though we are outcasts, without a country or a place to lay our heads, we stil feel and receive blessing from El. That love is like flowing water breaking hard rock. We cannot begin to hide from it... or Him."

Zedkiel nodded. He stood up straight and embraced his very pregnant Maria, whose smile was radiant, like the first spring dawn after a very hard winter . They looked at each other knowingly and packed anything else they might need before setting out.

Kreios led them around back to the ramshackle stable, where three white stal ions stood, ready to ride. "They are the most potent line ever bred. This is the tenth generation." Zedkiel grinned with pride as he helped Maria into her saddle, then sprung up onto his own mount. The stal ions were ma.s.sive, standing wel over twenty hands tal , and would be looked upon with terror on the field of battle. From this breed would spring the mighty Percheron of France-horses bred for war, for strength, for power.

Kreios was given the largest. He ran his hand over its muzzle and neck, whispering into its ear. The horse grunted as if understanding, even as if in agreement.

Soon they were on the road, riding out of town. Zedkiel looked back at the home they had built. His heart sank. He could tel it was not going to be an easy ride. Kreios had told him that it would take three days and nights to reach their destination. They could not take to the sky, so that the secret of the mountain city could be kept. It was not worth any amount of risk. Besides, Kreios had an idea of how to throw the Brotherhood off the trail.

"I wil go with you as far as the head of the Two Rivers. Then I wil take to the air in a new direction and try to find an old friend. He might be able to help us." Kreios smiled slightly at the corner of his mouth, pul ing his baby girl close in the sling next to his chest.

Gathering clouds fil ed the sky to the north. They were dark and thick with snow and frigid air. He knew that Maria could not make it far on horseback.

The pa.s.s was very difficult terrain to ride, even for an experienced horseman. Kreios would need to find his old friend. The tables would turn. This is a matter of life and death now, Yamanu. I pray you can live up to your name.

Chapter XXI.

They had reached the headwaters of the Two Rivers, and Kreios felt a pang of regret. He did not like parting ways with his brother and daughter so soon. He knew, though, if he did not find Yamanu they would never be able to make it to the safety of the City at Ke'elei. He had to do the one thing he did not want to do-leave his daughter yet again-but he had no other choice.

He sent his beloved brother a message in his thoughts, and it was returned with a blessing as wel as a warning: "Be careful, brother! Remember you are only one, but they are many."

The cool night sky flickered with stars beyond number, peering down into his soul as he walked in peace through darkened woods. Kreios had left his mighty horse with his brother. He would need to travel light for now. He decided to wait an hour before cal ing the enemy's vision to himself, making the path clear for his family.

His old friend was cal ed Yamanu. He was a Shadower. In another age, it was a very useful talent for combating seers, medicine men, and wizards. He could draw a shade over himself, or even a group, into which the enemy was not able to see.

Kreios grew up with Yamanu and could remember when they had learned to fly back home, where the streets were gold. Life under the sun provides such bitterness, and very little sweet.

Every member of the Arch race could fly, or at least were supposed to. Yamanu had not taken to it as wel as the other boys. One day, he and Kreios stole to the entrance of the white tower, where only the warriors were permitted. Kreios had been twelve, Yamanu ten. The doors stood as tal as five men and were over an arm's length thick, with iron bands running throughout like spider legs, holding them together. They heaved the doors open and walked into the darkness, closing them behind them with great effort. Shafts of light il uminated the circling stairway through windows as it led upward, beyond them.

None had ever ascended to the top of the white tower just to jump off and learn to fly. It was a lookout post for the army; the warriors. Without a doubt, Kreios and Yamanu were engaging in flight practice far before the Old Masters would have permitted. But Kreios had the heart of a king and nerves of steel. He was not content with the safer jump-off points where everyone else learned. At the tower's top he felt as if he could regain the heavens long lost to his fathers.

"Come with me Yam, if you want to see things for what they real y are! You wil not be disappointed." Kreios had run two steps at a time, with Yamanu close behind him. Kreios was not afraid of death. It was a foreigner to them in that age. The only ones who knew of death were characters in old tales.

They had grown up hearing stories of the old battle scarred Ones, their fathers from very long ago, who fought in the Original War.

Kreios didn't even bother waiting for a response from his friend, for Yamanu was a quiet sort. He raced up the stairway, up and up, through the sunbeams, with the innocence of a little child.

The tower pierced the sky. Even clouds were sometimes dashed against its white stone wal s and cleaved in two. It was a beacon, a great statement of daring just to stand upon its battlements, amongst the peaks of the mountains G.o.d had crowned with such glory. The tower had been cut from a single piece of pure marble countless years ago, and felt cool to the touch.

Yamanu came to a screeching halt when they reached the top and burst into the light of the unbroken sky. Since it was his first time at the top, he had not yet seen the expansive view, the breathtaking drop below them. Gusts of wind such as they had never felt, wild and unpredictable, greeted them as the white gold in the light kissed their faces.

They were standing on the roof of the tower, and al that surrounded them was a short wal , perhaps waist high, with one opening. A platform jutted out into thin air there, both warning and daring them to come closer. The tower was a perfectly circular spire. Al that intruded upon the symmetry at the top was the rectangle cut into the floor that admitted the stairway, which, as was agreed upon between them, was a one-way ticket: the only way down from the top was to fly.

"It is very far to the bottom." Kreios stated with excitement. They were both breathing hard. "The wind current up here wil keep us aloft for a little while,"

he said, poking Yamanu in the ribs, "even if you do not know how to fly."

Yamanu looked over the edge and took a step back as a spasm of fear ran its icy fingers up and down his spine. "Are you sure this is safe?" he asked, but knew the answer. He did not relish the idea of testing the stories he had heard about their immortality. The idea of experimenting to see just how far they could take that truth scared him.

"My friend, you and I are as safe as a babe in his mother's arms!" Kreios grinned at him from ear to ear. "The worst that can happen to us is a bruised ego. And trust me, friend, I wil not al ow you forget it if you fail to catch these wind currents."

He slapped Yamanu on the back powerful y and looked over the edge with a smile. Kreios gazed with appreciation at the pure carved marble, veins of black twisting through creamy white, like the vessels in his own body, and he could imagine that the entire structure surged with power.

He walked forward to the opening in the wal in front of him. As soon as he went out past it, the unpredictable gusts turned suddenly violent. A weak boy would have been tossed in one fatal instant. But Kreios was not weak. He took another deliberate step toward the end of the platform, stopping two steps from the end. He looked over his shoulder at Yamanu, who had been putting on a brave face. But Kreios was intrepid and his expression had become mischievous and daring. He looked forward, ran the last two steps, and jumped with his arms out like a bird.

Chapter XXII.

Boise, Idaho. Present day.

Blood pooled onto the wood of my dresser. I managed to stay on my feet looking at my hand and hoping that I wasn't crazy. I prayed that I wouldn't have to get Mom up and ask her to rush me to the emergency room for... for stabbing myself!

But, if I was crazy, and oh how I wanted to be-the wound would heal. I didn't know how or when. This complicated things. No matter what, either I was a psycho who heard voices and stabbed herself, or I was a freak of nature who, admittedly, could be a cover girl. When I'm not spontaneously barfing.

Now I would not only have the difficult and thril ing job of making it through high school and the whole teenager thing-but I had to figure out what I was as wel . No matter what happened after this, I knew there would be consequences.

It was surreal. I stood there and watched my gaping wounds as they dripped. Gross. But it was like watching the invisible hands of an expert surgeon reorganize the twisted remains of my tendons, arteries, and whatever else was in there. It itched like nothing I had ever felt, as if my hand would tear itself apart. Everything was placed back in order, fused together, and my skin covered it al without a trace... wel , except for al the blood.

Al I could think about was the chorus to this song I had heard once. Al it said was "stupid girl" over and over.

I shook my head, wiped the blood from my hands in awe and cleaned up my dresser with a ratty old shirt that I had been meaning to throw out anyway.

Then I took everything out back and dumped it al into our big outside trash can. I went back up to my bedroom and grabbed a fril y looking doily my mom had made and used it to cover up the gash on my dresser.

I kept looking at my hand. I touched the place where just moments ago a b.l.o.o.d.y gash had been. It didn't even hurt and there was no trace of a cut anywhere in sight. Maybe most people would be happy with that news, but it terrified me. I didn't remember being bit by any radioactive spiders lately, or even hit over the head by a meteorite out in a corn field.

Okay, so I heal quick... I mean really quick. It didn't seem to keep me from getting sick though. Maybe I have a tumor in my brain or something. I'd read about that sort of thing happening. People got weird gifts like being able to read people's minds or something, and it turned out they had a basebal sized tumor in their brain. A month later they were dead.

I remembered the note the kil er left in my mailbox that said, "I know what you are!" Not who you are but what. As if I was some sort of thing or animal.

The cut itched so badly when it was closing together that I had struggled to keep from ripping open a new wound just to get it to stop. What in the world -or beyond this worldwas going on? Somehow, death seemed better than this. Not that I couldn't find use for a...a gift, talent, or whatever this was. But would happen when people found out? I'd be on Oprah in no time. Everyone would be looking to interview me and dissect my brain on national television.

A freak. No, thank you.

I know what you are!

Maybe someone else already knew? Maybe someone else did this to me. Maybe when I was an infant they injected me with some sort of drug. Some secret government project, trying to create super-humans. Seriously, Airel? I felt a shiver run up and down my spine and I got that same feeling I had at the doctor's office. It was as if I had this thing, this other voice, that wanted to help me or watch me.

I listened as I stopped to look in the mirror. Al was quiet, and in the back of my mind I heard the sound of someone sighing, as if it was impatient and wanted me to figure things out a little faster.

I felt as if I stood on the edge of something big. "Look, if you've got something to say, say it!" I said into the mirror. I was on the edge of something, al right. I wanted to scream and kick my legs and throw a tantrum, but what good would that do? I was stil alone.

I recal ed having read Frankenstein last year for English Lit. That's exactly how I felt just then. A freak, total y alone. Stil , I couldn't shake the feeling, deep down where it counted, that I was not alone at al .

I looked at the clock. Six a.m. The sun was going to be up soon, bringing on the morning. I groaned at the thought of it. Sometimes my moods were just not in sync with the sunny weather. I prayed for rain.

I was not very excited to go to school in this state. My world was completely upside down. Outside of faking a cold, I had to go. I thought about this, but decided not to. Mom usual y didn't buy it, anyway. Besides, it would give me more time to think this mess through without Mom checking my temperature every five minutes. Maybe I could even get Kim's advice.

School didn't require a large part of my brain anyway. Seriously. If you learned to nod and grunt in the right places, you could skate by without breaking a sweat. The rest could be found on Google.

I turned on the shower, cranked it to scalding, then opened my closet to decide what to wear this fine screwed-up morning. I picked out a blue b.u.t.ton-up top and then got in the shower. It felt so good that I almost felt normal again. I decided to sc.r.a.p the b.u.t.ton-up top and wear my hot pink tank top with a white lace-lined shirt under it. Pink was my "feeling good" color and if I put it together with my worn-out jeans, I was unstoppable.

The morning proved to be better than I thought it would be, with large cartoonish clouds fil ing the sky like daisies and the sun blazing through them. I made it out of the house just in time to retrieve my coconut latte on the way, this time without incident. I had half an hour until the school parking lot would start to fil up, and I emptied my mind of al thoughts about my weird life.

I didn't want to think...just feel... Feel. The word rol ed through my mind like a summer thunderstorm. Feel...

I heard the flutter of wings in the back of my mind.

Opening my eyes, I saw Michael Alexander pul ing in next to my Honda. My heart jumped into my throat but I downed the last of my coffee anyway.

Michael slammed the door to his truck, leaned down, looked through the pa.s.senger window and waved at me. I smiled as he opened the door. "Hi, what brings you here so early?" I even sounded like a normal person, unlike how I felt inside-wind, waves, and b.u.t.terflies.

Michael's eyes lit up and he shot me that smile. "I just had a feeling you would be here before everyone else.And here you are."

My heart did flip-flops in my chest as Michael slid into the pa.s.senger seat. I could smel his shampoo. There was also the faint odor of bacon and eggs lingering on his breath. Coming from literal y any other person, I would have thought it was nasty, but on him it was magical.

I looked at him without looking at him, and he smiled and stared at me. It was as if he didn't mind me knowing that he was interested in me, or maybe I was imagining it and he was just being a nice guy. I was running out of excuses.

"So, you hear anything from the police about that murder?" Michael asked. I was a bit shocked that I had forgotten al about it, but maybe it wasn't so surprising with everything else that was going on.

"Uh, no. I think they're stil looking for the guy. Kinda weird being there in the theater when it happened."

"Yeah. Not every day you get to be in the middle of real live action like that." Michael sounded excited, as if he enjoyed the experience. Then again, he had not been hiding in a bathroom stal about to be attacked and cut to pieces by a psycho kil er. "It was just like in the movies! Al the police cars and everyone screaming and running al around..."

"You sound like you enjoyed it. Personal y, I could have been kil ed. And then what? Would you have been al excited that you knew the girl who was murdered?" I was getting mad at his happy-go-lucky att.i.tude and the lack of fear he seemed to have.

"No, no, I'm not happy! I uh-come on, Airel-it's just that it was crazy, ya know... and you're alive. Besides,it wasn't just a random murder. They even said that the victim was a serial kil er." Michael's eyes lit up like blue embers.

"What? Where did you hear that?"

"What do you mean, 'where did I hear that?' It's been al over the news. They've identified the body as some child kil er from Vegas. He kil ed like ten kids and even made it onto the top ten Most Wanted list. I guess they're hunting their own kind now. Kil er kil ing kil er." Michael shook his head in amazement and said, "Anyway, where have you been? The whole school is talking about it. You're like the local celebrity... the girl who got away."

"Great. So much for flying under the radar," I muttered under my breath. I didn't want to be famous for anything. I just wanted to get through high school and maybe go to col ege. I got lost in my own thoughts for a second when I looked past Michael to his truck. I noticed movement. James was sitting in Michael's truck drinking a Red Bul and staring out the window as if lost in a deep dark dream. I was so confused that I didn't say anything for a minute.

Michael fol owed my gaze and laughed. "Oh, James needed a ride this morning, so I picked him up. He didn't want to be the third wheel, so he stayed in the truck."

"Wow. I didn't see him, so it kind of freaked me out. You two are becoming fast friends, I see. Gonna go out for footbal ?" I didn't know what to think, but the James thing made something in the back of my mind twitch. I wondered what it was. Maybe it was just my conscience being over-sensitive, or maybe a sixth sense, like in the theater.

"Wel ..." he laughed. "James is a cool guy. He's going to talk to the coach for me, since the season has already started. I'm not that into it but it could be fun." Michael ran a hand through his perfect hair and turned to look at me. I turned away, not knowing what to do, or even what might happen. His eyes were so crystal-clear, as if he could read my every thought.

I could imagine Michael playing footbal . He had the body for it. I glanced at him, deciding that yes, he was...of st.u.r.dy stock... and I sound like my grandma now. He was a beautiful man and with this thought I realized that I did think of him as a man, not just a boy.

He was powerful. He had eyes that could look right into my soul, but under it al there was something dark. I've heard of those underground rivers that go for miles. The water down there must be cold, black. That's the feeling I got, but it was fleeting, hard to put my finger on. He was dangerous. That was it.

Maybe that was why, in that moment, I knew I was fal ing for him.

Michael felt my gaze and met it without a smile. Al of a sudden my little car started to feel hot inside and I wanted to rol down my window. There wasn't even a hint of humor in his face, which was not the way he looked most of the time. He always had a joke or a funny comment to make everyone laugh, but as he looked deep into my eyes, I saw something that made me gasp. It was a deep and clinging desire. It scared me more than I could have imagined.

So...this is what it's like.

I felt as if I was an ocean-unpredictable, wild, stormy-and I could feel, intensely, that his single wish in life was to be given the privilege of drowning in al that I was. But it was more than simple desire. No, I could tel . He loved me. In it was something more powerful than al the stars crashing to earth.

I tried to look away but couldn't. He held me captive, and I could not-knew I would never-resist. Just as fast as it had emerged, the burst of pa.s.sion in his eyes pa.s.sed, sinking under lapping waves of self-defense. A smile pul ed at the corner of his mouth, and the mask-the one we al wear-was back in place.

"I wanted to ask you something." Michael grinned and looked down at his hands, abruptly shy. "I was wondering if you would like to go to dinner with me sometime. You know, not anything fancy. Just hang out, get to know each other. I think you are...wel , you're very interesting."

I couldn't help but smile. He was asking me out and he was shy. Or playing shy, whichever, I didn't care. I was the last person he should be shy around.

But I caught myself saying these words: "I would love to." My heart pounded and my entire body buzzed with excitement. It occurred to me that I just might throw up al over this amazing guy sitting in my car.

"Great, great..." He said, smiled awkwardly, opened the car door, and was gone. He and James headed into the school.

I looked around, sank back into my seat, and fought back a tear. I was that girl. The one everyone wished they could be. I didn't know why and I was afraid to ask, but I couldn't help it. I bal ed up my fist, curled my arm, and gloated, "Yes!"

Chapter XXIII.