Diana must have read my body language, as she agreed. "It was so strange she did not sense it, Whitney. She could see Big Ben from the window of the Savoy, for heaven's sake. She could have summoned help from all over London. But she stayed silent. I was hoping you might have known why but I see Ellen kept her own counsel."

"What do you mean she could have gotten help from the clock? Is that where the name Cloccan comes from?" It seemed that all empaths I had met wore a watch. Was that some kind of symbolic connection?

"No, not the clock. I'm talking about the bell Big Ben. Clocca is Latin for *bell' and empaths are all fluent in the vibration of air known as sound. Bell towers are communication devices for empaths. We can interpret messages within all sound-even sound that is so high pitched it is not heard but felt." Diana peered closely at me to see if I was half asleep or dense. I preferred the former so I rubbed my eyes.

"Oh, right. Is it tough that some of the best bell towers are also major tourist attractions? You know, like Munich's Glockenspiel? Those crowds are intense." My mind was racing and Diana's gaze was fixed on me, looking for a crack in my veneer. She found it and gave an exasperated sigh. Somehow, I had given my ignorance away.

"The Glockenspiel is the location of our German headquarters. The crowds do not defeat our purpose because they are irrelevant. Sound moves through crowds, especially infrasound. The Cloccan world headquarters is at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C., the only place in North America to house carillon and peal bells together, making the site incredibly secure. That is why Reg's funeral was there...because we knew the Tenebraen would not try to infiltrate the building. Well, except for her and we were prepared to tolerate Noir." Diana's voice had a bitter edge as she talked about Carson Noir. I agreed with her sentiment even as my brain was busy connecting the dots. Noir was also part of this group called the Tenebraen? I thought tenebrae was Latin for "darkness" but couldn't be sure. I wished Reid were here since as a polyglot, he could easily decipher the meaning of tenebrae. Too bad I had not learned language fluency from him when I learned how to cross over into his mind on Sanctuary.

The thought jarred me. Dr. West said as the Sundial I could fuse the pure energy gifts of others. If that was the case, then why I hadn't I been able to absorb understanding language from Reid? Or, for that matter, why hadn't I absorbed any gifts from my own mother?

"There you are. Couldn't sleep?" Reid asked as he sleepily walked up the aisle. My heart melted with relief as his eyes searched my face for a hint of distress. I gave him a small smile to let him know I was holding my own but that it was good to have reinforcements.

Reid tossed Diana a stern look and the set of his jaw was firm. Diana immediately responded to his challenge. "Don't worry, Reid. I am not bothering Whitney. Simply trying to get to know her better."

Reid raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Good. Then you won't mind if I join you."

"Not at all. I was just about to explain the 1968 alliance. Whitney seems to know little about the Cloccan people and you could have told her something, Reid. Not every oath has a vow of silence on it and, like it or not, you are half Cloccan. You know what is expected of you, Reid, and-"

"Sorry, Aunt Diana. We've been a little busy, and regaling Whitney with the tales of Cloccan history have not been high on my list of priorities," Reid dryly interrupted as he sat next to me and flipped up the armrest. The security of his presence was calming and I asked myself if counting on him was something I could stand to lose. I could not answer yes and it worried me that he would compromise my survival skills.

"I told you, Reid. I have come to an understanding with Whitney. I am not trying to garner any information from her. But suit yourself." She laughed. She looked at the two of us objectively for a moment. "Yes. Together it is undeniable. It seems the prophecy-"

"Aunt, you are extraordinarily verbose for so early in the morning. Please do not drown Whitney in your constant deluge of information. I think we will go back to our seats and get ready to land if you are done." Reid moved to rise and Diana rested a hand on his arm. Their eyes clashed with anger, and they seemed to be having a wordless argument around me.

"Not so fast, Reid. Whitney should know that some of those from the Albus clan saw the Tenebraen shadow growing in America. The world order is on the verge of shifting..."

"Who ARE the Tenebraen and the Albus?" I felt like I was walking into the third act of a play and was trying to figure out what I had missed. Thoroughly exasperated, Diana threw her hands up. It made me want to feel embarra.s.sed, if I had a clue why my question set her off.

Reid closed his eyes to shut out Diana's antics. "The clan from the northern portion of Scotland is called the Albus clan. The people of this region have unusually strong precognitive abilities." His voice had an air of finality to it, as if he had provided the definition and that was the end of the topic.

"You are leaving out a bit of key information, Reid. Scotland was once known as Alba-derived from the root word meaning *white'-and your very name, Whitney, means *white island' because Scotland is your homeland. How is it you did not know something as rudimentary as this? Have they taught you nothing?" Diana's voice was edgy and disapproving. I felt like she was grading me on a test that I forgot to study for...and I was failing it. Her rising fury made me decide not to quibble with her that I was born in London, England, not Scotland.

"The Tenebraen are our greatest enemy and difficult to explain as their dark forces take many forms," Diana said. "They are pure evil and found where evil is allowed to flourish. Their presence is in the form of riot, rebellion, and violence throughout the land.

"You can see their presence in America in the 1960s as they spread anarchy and destruction like an infectious disease catching among the youth and counterculture of the country. Those of us in tribes and clans of pure energy were consumed with our own interests, and it wasn't until we lost President John F. Kennedy in 1963 that the Cloccan security bells went up in the Washington National Cathedral. We were slow to recognize we were under attack but once we did, the Cloccans began to better fortify the capital city and to take a greater role in protecting our interests. That's also when a young man, Reginald West, saw glimpses of the old prophecy falling into place and he wanted all tribes and clans around the world to join together to better defend ourselves. Many in our community did not believe him. That is, until 1968, when everything Reg predicted started to come true."

As Diana talked, I remembered my government research paper on JFK. He was diagnosed with Addison's disease, food allergies, and probable celiac disease. My mind zeroed in on his food allergies and how Dr. West said it was a genetic evolution. Kennedy was an altruistic leader and someone who had turned adversity into advantage time and again. He seemed like the pure energy poster boy, except...

"Wait a minute. If JFK had pure energy and was warned not to go to Dallas, why did he go anyway?" I asked aloud. The warning by his secretary, Evelyn Lincoln, haunted me for some reason. It did not quite make sense.

"Yes. He was Cloccan and had been warned by his secretary, who was a member of the Albus clan. Cloccans can sometimes be stubborn and you should know by now that it is hard to be a leader and not be in harm's way. That's why we didn't believe Reg at first. It wasn't until the Tenebraen killed Martin Luther King, Jr. did we realize we were at war and that our leaders could not stand alone."

Of course Martin Luther King, Jr. had pure energy, I thought to myself. The man told the entire world his dream that became a reality. I felt foolish for not making the connection sooner.

"We had great hopes that Martin Luther King, Jr. would help restore order to America after he righted the wrongs of the past. His nephew, Marlin Steele, said they both shared a gift of special sight bestowed on certain members of the Dogon tribe," Diana explained in a quiet voice that carried the faraway softness of regret.

Reid opened his eyes and gave me a stealthy glance. Since I obtained Marlin's superior eyesight through the pure energy release, it was clear that I had absorbed an ability only certain members of the Dogon tribe possessed. Dr. West knew Marlin Steele and his unique eyesight well and he told me to trust my instinct.

"I'm still not skipping or singing," Reid grumbled as he reached for my hand and referenced his earlier annoyance that I thought retrieving the sword would involve it glowing to reveal its location.

"So that is how the Dogon had astronomical knowledge before telescopes could verify it? They could see into s.p.a.ce?" I asked, maintaining the conversation.

"Yes. And, according to Vlad, the Dogon believe albino people bear the white-hot scar of pure energy. They are the living reminders that pure energy illuminates the body and the mind. An albino person is sometimes sacrificed as a tribute and other times their limbs are hacked for magic charms. Witch doctors have perpetuated these gruesome myths to enhance their black market trade, and you will be in significant danger if the Dogon a.s.sociate you with Vlad. In Africa, he is literally a walking target."

Chapter Eight: Free Fall.

Dr. West interrupted our chat to ask Diana a question and Reid and I took our opportunity to gracefully excuse ourselves. Diana stammered she had not finished telling us everything about Vlad but I a.s.sured her we had heard enough-Vlad's visible presence was not a risk worth taking.

Reid was agitated. I could hear him breathing through his nose as he walked behind me. "Don't you worry about anything?" he asked as we started to pack up our belongings back at our seats. "You know this means we've lost the only person from our team who was familiar with the area."

I was not fretting the loss of Vlad-he was a double agent. I did not have faith in his loyalty so I would not unquestionably put the lives of my team in Vlad's hands. If anything, keeping Vlad a safe distance away and out of sight simplified the mission for me. It was less information for me to double-check.

The territory was not completely unknown to me. I had asked Blair to memorize the road and topographic maps ahead of time and I had listened to Mr. Parks when he told me to be prepared to take the field; I had intensely researched Mali. Aside from the local library lacking in information about the persecution of the albino people, I felt I had briefed myself well.

"Not really," I replied. I pulled on my expedition-style backpack. The waterproof canvas was scratchy and the wide shoulder straps were thickly padded. "Worrying tricks you into thinking you are doing something. I'd rather save my energy until I can actually DO something that will bring about results."

I slipped my ponytail through the back of my baseball hat and pulled out my sungla.s.ses. I hung them off my shirt collar and felt my pocket to make sure my bandana and Chapstick were handy.

"An energy saver, huh? Seems like a natural career choice for you. I guess you prefer solar?" Reid smirked at his sundial reference and batted down the brim of my hat.

"Ha. Ha. Sort of like you as a comedian?" I fixed my hat. Blair was awake and looked like she was up to something. She had her MacGyver face on.

"Newsflash, Reid. Whit and I are going to open a private investigation firm. These missions are cool and all but let's face it-we are not in a tropical paradise. Sand is a little boring without a beach to go with it," Blair said and then took a bite of a chocolate doughnut. Reid's eyes widened at the sight of the sugarcoated circle. His mouth opened as if he planned to catch it should Blair decide to toss it to him like a Frisbee.

Blair couldn't suppress her smile as she picked up the white box with the red and green lettering with a flourish. Reid gave her a grateful smile.

"Ah, the sweet smell of Krispy Kreme and one that smells even sweeter since it is a peanut-free doughnut brand," Blair said as she chewed and handed over the box. "Your food allergies do make it a bit more of a challenge to buy baked goods but I look at this as excellent investigative training for the P.I. business."

The words Krispy Kreme created a stir from Patrick's seat. "Thanks, Blair. You are the breakfast angel," Patrick croaked from under his sweatshirt hood. "Any chance you have a Diet c.o.ke?"

Blair sailed a can through the air to Patrick and he caught it with one hand. Blair had done her research as well, I thought to myself. She even knew what Patrick liked to drink for breakfast.

"Breakfast of champions for you today, Patrick? You had better not be a jittery mess from all that sugar," I chided. I was getting antsy. I wanted to get off the plane and to the safe house.

"This can't be the Queen of the Pop Tarts jerking my chain, right, Reid? At least let me jolt myself awake before the hara.s.sment begins," Patrick mumbled as he popped open the can to wash down the doughnut he had inhaled.

Blair and I laughed. "I renounced my pastry throne. A banana and some water will tide me over until we settle into camp. Enjoy your last breakfast of junk because as soon as you are off the plane, you are on MY team, Patrick Riordan, and I need you to be in top condition."

"Oh brother. Here we go," Blair laughed. "Why do you think I brought the doughnuts? Last time you were team leader we were on a diet of berries and bark. If we didn't need the map to find civilization again I was going to eat it."

"Don't worry, Blair. Patrick is an aspiring astronomer. He could lead us by the stars at night and I DO have an innate and steady sense of direction," Reid boasted, and I rolled my eyes. I didn't want to go into the fact that at our last leadership camp, it was raining and being off the trail was the point. The people who were captured first lost the mission and I did not want to remind Blair that we won and had a historic number of bonus points.

"Reid, I also have a great sense of direction and I brought my own compa.s.s," Blair said as she rifled through her ma.s.sive duffel bag. Reid was standing right next to her and I shot him a worried glance. He tried to move but the tight s.p.a.ce of the plane did not provide many options.

Blair triumphantly held up her compa.s.s. Then she whimpered as the silver directional needle spun in circles until it went pathetically limp.

"Sorry, Blair. I tried to move further away. I'll buy you a new one when we get home." Reid's face was red. He was not used to his magnetism being exposed and it hurt me a little to see him so uncomfortable, even among friends.

"Wow. I thought Whitney was exaggerating. She WAS a little carried away when she met you. How you were so amazing and there was a magnetic attraction to you she couldn't resist. I can't believe she was telling the truth..."

"Thanks, Blair. That's quite enough," I interrupted." We need to move out."

"But she was just getting started, Whit. Go on, Blair. I believe you left off on the adjective *amazing' or something like how irresistible I am." Reid smiled like the cat that had swallowed the canary.

"Trust me, I am resisting knocking some sense into you right now," I retaliated. "It's not that hard."

"Have you always had such a strong magnetic ability, Reid?" Blair asked, enthralled. I had not fully explained to Blair everything that had happened in Chern.o.byl's reactor four. She did not know Reid was caught in an electromagnet because of his unique blood type, and I regretted that decision as Blair scrutinized Reid to see if he was going to rip open his shirt and surprise her with his Superman apparel.

Patrick piped up. "Yeah, when we did that science unit on magnets in elementary school, Helga had to come pick him up. All the magnets stuck to him and no one could do the experiments. Helga tried to say that Reid was playing with magnetic paint but right after that Reid's parents switched him to another school."

Reid's face became serious as he said, "It was tough enough to sit at the food allergy table where only Patrick and Decker would keep me company. After the magnet incident, kids started to see if their scissors would stick to me among other things. My dad was waiting for a reason to yank me out of public school and put me in St. Mark's and suffice it to say that he got it." Reid shook his head to clear the memory.

It was difficult to imagine the most popular and good-looking guy at Gramercy High had ever had a tough time with friends. I hadn't realized Patrick had known Reid such a long time. Blair must have been thinking the same thing and asked Patrick, "Lemme guess. Did you also get drafted by Mr. Parks before you knew what you were getting yourself into?"

"Reid's martial arts teacher? No. Why?" Patrick looked at Blair with his face twisted into a question mark.

"Oh. No reason. Thought it might have been a way for you to have stayed in touch with Reid after he went to a different school." Blair shrugged.

"No, we played on the same sports teams and went to outward bound every year for the summer..." Patrick explained.

Ah-ha, so there was a lot more to Patrick than met the eye. I was sure Dr. West would not have allowed him to come if he couldn't hold his own. Not that I had worried much about it. Truth be told, only one person ever nagged at my thoughts: Karen Eubanks. I couldn't quite figure her out or her possessiveness over Reid.

We started to file off the plane. Reid's voice boomed from behind me in line. "Heads up, Patrick. Blair's not mentioning that she is a trained panther stylist and she can flip you faster than you could say Cobra Kai. Panthers are feisty, clever, and..."

"Totally worth it," I finished. I put on my sungla.s.ses before we went out the door. Ever since absorbing Marlin Steele's pure energy, my eyes seemed to pick up more color spectrum and it made the glare of bright light harsh.

"Took the words right of my mouth. Maybe you could be a ventriloquist, Whit. If the P.I. business tanks, that is." I could hear the smile on Reid's face through his voice. I didn't turn around but made a sarcastic "OK" signal with my hand as we walked off the tarmac toward the tiny airport. It was a single building and we were the only plane on the landing strip.

The fabled city at the end of the world did exist, I thought as I looked around Timbuktu. It seemed an unlikely candidate for the nomination of the African El Dorado, a city made of gold. Everything I saw was a faded shade of dust or dirt. The streets were swept with sand and the adobe-style buildings were made of mud bricks. The only gleam was from the metal studs in designs on the wooden doors.

Timbuktu was founded by nomadic herders called the Tuareg, who would leave their heavy goods with an old woman named Tin Abutut at a well near the Niger River. Because Tin Abutut became known for how she would faithfully watch over the goods that could not make the journey across the desert, other travelers trusted her to do the same for them. Tin Abutut's well at the edge of the Sahara desert became "Timbuktu" and was known as an oasis of water and reliable security. From this small watering hole, a town and then a legend was born.

Ideally positioned as the middle of the trans-Saharan trade route, Timbuktu was the crossroads of knowledge and information. It was once known as the Oxford of Africa, and a significant amount of its population were students and teachers.

Timbuktu reached its zenith in the fourteenth century. The city thrived while the rest of the world was crushed by what was known as the Black Death and today called the bubonic plague. It seemed odd Timbuktu was a crossroads of humanity but escaped the plague. My intuition p.r.i.c.kled at the thought and led me to wonder if the Spear of Light had already been relocated to Timbuktu and granted the city protection from the Black Death. The fact that the bubonic plague was one of the worst disasters in history was well known. I wondered if the Tenebraen could have unleashed the plague.

Miraculously, we did not have to go through customs. We walked through the airport and down a narrow street. The close air of the alleyways smelled of dirt and animals and I could hear a donkey braying from a closed courtyard. We went under a Moorish arch and I followed Dr. West into the safe house.

As we walked through the doorway, I thought of the West African proverb I had learned: "Salt comes from the north, gold from the south, and silver from the country of the white men, but the word of G.o.d and the treasures of wisdom are only to be found in Timbuktu." It was no surprise it drifted through my mind-ancient ma.n.u.scripts surrounded us. The nearly ruined books were piled on tables and in stacks on the floor. They looked like they would crumble if you touched them and some had bits of mold along the edges of their pages. The mess would be deceiving to a Westerner, who did not know that in Timbuktu the socially acceptable way of displaying wealth was through books-not the size of a house. Real knowledge and religious piety were valued even though political and material wealth was absent. It was a stark contrast to Washington, D.C., and my familiar world.

Struggling, filtered light came in through windows filmed with dust. The air inside the house was stale. A man hurried out from a back room and called out a warm h.e.l.lo to Dr. West. He was dressed in a dark blue shirt and matching pants. He had the same warm eyes I had seen before in a photo in Dr. West's mind. This man reminded me of Marlin Steele.

"Tiembo! It's been too long," Dr. West greeted him. They gave each other a friendly hug and then Dr. West introduced him to all of us. Tiembo had a long and lean build, a vibrant smile, and dark brown skin. His movements were confident and graceful and I felt at ease with him.

Tiembo led us into the courtyard where he had tea waiting. As we walked through the house, I could see stairs leading to a second story, barren walls, and almost no furnishings. We sat for tea, and I asked Dr. West telepathically if we really had time for a reunion. I wanted to get to Dogon country as quickly as possible and travel here was rough, rugged, and slow. At best, it would be at least a day's travel by private car. Without words, Dr. West told me transportation had been arranged and not to worry. My team and I would be there in two hours.

The only way that would be possible would be by helicopter, but that did not make sense because we would attract too much attention to ourselves. I gave him a perplexed look. He was talking to Tiembo and did not give me any more information. I had a feeling I was not going to like it and that was why he wasn't telling me. A sense of dread crawled into my chest and I knew that I really wasn't going to like it.

After tea, Helga and Mr. Parks left to a.s.sume their role as retired tourists. They would support us from a distance but would be several hours behind us arriving in the Dogon village of Bongo. Dr. West and Diana were remaining at the safe house, and Tiembo would go with us to Bongo. When it was time for us to leave, it surprised all of us that Tiembo led us to the bas.e.m.e.nt rather than toward the door. My senses became razor sharp, as did my apprehension. It was not Tiembo or anyone on the team setting it off; it was something below. Blair, Patrick, and Reid followed Tiembo without concern but I remained at the stairs for a second longer until Dr. West came up behind me.

The stairs were dug out of the earth and I could hear small pebbles scattering down as our footsteps jostled them free. Tiembo had a large flashlight but I was relieved when he turned on an industrial light switch. The light chased away the darkness to reveal a descending staircase of several hundred feet. A slip would mean disaster.

"Wow! This is awesome." Patrick's voice echoed ahead of me in the distance. For there to be an echo, I knew he must be in a cavern. My heart started to flutter in my chest and I hoped once I could see around the steep spiraling curve it would be a large enough opening that my claustrophobia would not paralyze me.

It was difficult to register the wonderment of the cave because my eyes were fixed on the miner's trolley parked on the tracks below. That was the transportation Dr. West had arranged. "Seriously?" I asked as I turned around to face Dr. West.

"It's the best I could do. I know this is not easy for you," Dr. West said, not meeting my glare. "It will take you under the Niger River and get you to Bongo in less than hour."

The tangy smell of mineral and rock pervaded the air. The temperature was much cooler as we approached the cave's floor. The rest of my team was loading up their belongings into a cargo car at the back of the trolley.

He gently grabbed my arm. "Can you do it?"

"Of course I CAN do it. I will probably not enjoy the ride seeing how I hate roller coasters and am claustrophobic, but I will survive it."

"I didn't know you hated roller coasters. Sorry about that, Wink." Dr. West looked worriedly at the trolley and I realized he must have known I hated to feel trapped underground. Tiembo unlatched the metal doors and everyone else climbed inside. Blair had a smile of antic.i.p.ation and excitement.

"The trolley pa.s.sage was constructed by Cloccans. The caverns are enormous and thousands of years old. It is completely safe." Dr. West fumbled to try to make me feel better. It was pointless. Sometimes the road to a destination was tough and that's when it was time to prove you were mentally tougher. I accepted my reality and took a deep breath. I had to get on the trolley so I adjusted my backpack with resolve, but before I could climb aboard Dr. West hugged me tight. He looked me in the eye and told me he would see me soon and I knew he meant it. The smell of his cologne faded as I climbed into my seat next to Reid, who was relaxed and ready to depart. I felt the exact opposite.

Tiembo turned around to make sure we were in our seats. "Ready? If you need them, there are handles to hold on to on either side of the doors." The fact that we might need handles made my hands start to sweat. For us to get to Bongo so quickly we would need to pick up speed and since Tiembo did not turn on a motor I a.s.sumed we would use kinetic energy-and that meant we would have to drop.

Blair turned around and gave me a worried glance. I shook my head to dismiss her concern because there was nothing for it. "You'll be fine," she weakly said. Tiembo unlocked the brake and I grabbed Reid's hand.

He wrinkled his brow, perplexed. "What is it?" Reid asked as we started to move. He could feel my hand was clammy and it alarmed him further that I could not answer him. It took every ounce of my energy to mentally focus on not letting my nervous system fray into panic.

The breeze picked up as we started to descend and I tried to steel myself for the miserable feeling of negative gravity. I closed my eyes and the next second Reid was in my mind. I was able to convey to him my need to meditate out of the experience. In the distance of my mind, he found the memory of my dad going into Saint Margaret's cave and the whirling sound that came in my ears and the crushing feeling in my chest.

"Oh, right. You're naturally claustrophobic. Anyone connected with the Albus clan usually is, you know. Cloccans utilize the energy of the earth so we are comfortable in caves but it can feel smothering to anyone who is Albus..." Reid whispered into my ear.

The sound of his voice made me feel steady even though I knew we were going to plummet. I heard Blair gasp and I tightened my grip on Reid's hand as the track beneath us felt like it had disappeared.

Chapter Nine: Grounded.