ORDER OF SEVEN (29 page)
“Nodin,” Paytah says, his eyes desperate and reaching, his chin quivering with emotion.
Only then does it hit me how immensely important we are to him.
•◊•◊•
Four hours later, we’re back on Mahtembo land. Ama rushes to meet Nodin. They fall into each other, a tangle of dark and light. He holds her face and kisses her.
Ashon brushes past them and almost falls over with relief at the sight of all of us. We hug tight and, for the first time since we arrived, I call him Father. He beams at me, then reaches for Nodin.
I walk to Keb and Baron and stand between them. Our energy threesome has decreased, barely detectable anymore. Even the reaction between me and Baron is subdued to an almost imperceptible vibration.
Aadam sidles up to us with a grinning Mapiya on his arm, his freckled face carefree and smiling. “See? Nuts and cake, mates.”
I glance over at Aren. “You did good,” I say.
He nods. “It’s all the stretching,” he says with a sideways grin, and I laugh.
That evening, there’s a celebration at the clearing. The men play drums while the women and children do a celebratory dance. Keb joins the women and we watch her powerful body move with mesmerizing rhythm and grace. Sahr appears out of nowhere and sits next to Ashon, Ben and Joe, grinning and clapping with the beat. The night is haunting in its resemblance to the night we were attacked, but this time it has a happy ending.
We sit around the fire long after the celebration dwindles to a close, after all the stew is consumed and the rest of the Mahtembo people go to their huts. Aadam pokes the fire with a stick and tiny embers fly around us like fireflies. Aren is telling Mapiya jokes and she is rolling around the dirt ground in a fit of giggles. I look around at all these beautiful people and realize I never need to be jealous of Nodin again. I have a place in this world now, one that makes sense and has purpose. I have found my people.
I lay my head on Baron’s shoulder. I’m not arcing anymore. Not even a little.
I ask him something that’s been on my mind since we met with Mealy. “Has this changed how you think of God?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Only in that I had to reconcile with the idea that energy can have intelligence. I still think there’s a higher power, or a knowing energy, with which we flow. But I believe it’s not a person or a soul, and whether or not we believe in it has no bearing on life or afterlife.”
I glance at Joe and remember what he told me about religion giving people what they need: faith that there’s a plan.
I realize energy is Baron’s story, just as much as Christianity is to Mom and Dad, or Judaism, Islam, Animism and Buddhism are to others. Joe is right. We need to believe we’re not alone and there’s a purpose to our existence. What matters is not what our story is, but rather that we have one.
•◊•◊•
In the two days that follow, Aadam returns to school in Cape Town and Aren flies back home to England. It is harder than I could ever imagine saying goodbye to them, but we promise to keep in touch weekly via phone, email or Skype. Knowing this helps, but not much. They are my family now.
The evening before the rest of us leave for the airport, Nodin approaches me outside my hut.
“I need to talk to you,” he says.
“What is it?” I notice he’s wearing a short sleeved shirt, probably borrowed from Ben. His scars, red and striking against his pale skin, are fully visible. I’m proud of him, but more than that I’m elated he’s not hiding anymore.
He hesitates, swallowing hard. “I’m not leaving with you. I’m staying here with Ama and Ashon.”
Although I have realized that he is in love, I’m stunned by his decision. “But...but what about school? What about—”
He puts his hand on my shoulder and smiles. “I don’t care. It’ll work itself out.”
I’ve never seen him this content. This is where he belongs and there’s nothing I can do to change it. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t change it if I could. I want him to have this. He’s waited his whole life to be free of protecting me and of his secret. Free to be. As have I.
“I have lots of work to do here,” he says.
At first I’m not sure what he means, and then I remember the billboard with the dismembered albino woman, and pride fills me to the point I could burst into a million pieces.
As the sun sets in an explosion of pinks and lavenders, I know I can’t leave without saying goodbye to the one person who’s been an intrinsic part of this from the beginning. I ask Ashon where Sahr’s hut is. He points into the trees.
I walk down a crude trail worn by decades of Sahr’s footsteps. Flanking the path are tall poles etched and painted with elephants.
Sahr’s hut is smaller than the others and encircled with river rocks. The distinct smell of sage burns my nose as I approach the opening of a doorway. It feels like home. I lean down and am about to say his name when a bony hand reaches out of the shadows and takes mine, guiding me inside where the only light comes from burning embers of a little nest of sage and crystals in the middle of the dirt floor. We sit across from each other.
“I wait fah yoo long tine,” Sahr says in broken English.
My jaw drops.
He puts his finger to his lips. “Shhh. It ouwa seecket.”
“I just...I couldn’t leave without saying thank you for all you’ve done. For the dream and the visions, for leading us here, and for the time with Bahtmi.”
His huge, toothless grin wrinkles his face and he puts a palm to his chest. “A dahtah to Bahtmi ees dahtah to Sahr.” He reaches over the pile of smoldering sage and takes my hands. “Dees nawt gootbye, deBI.”
I know it’s not. Not really. As long as there is sage to burn and crystals to utilize, my mother and Sahr will always be with me.
The next morning, we say our final goodbyes. Keb’s eyes are wet with emotion and for some reason this surprises me. Not that she’s sad, but that she is showing it. She’s so stoic and strong, and that speaks so much to the beautiful contradiction that is Keb. I will miss her tremendously.
It takes me a long time to let go of Nodin. My brother, my twin, the person to whom I am infinitely connected. Life will be strange without him. “What about Mom and Dad?” I ask. “What do I tell them?”
“I’ll handle it,” he says, and I know he will.
Ashon holds my shoulders and looks deep into my eyes. “My Devi, mi sita, I will not be whole until I see you again.”
Me either,
I think and hug him hard.
Master Tran drives me, Mapiya, Ben, Baron and Joe to the temple where we retrieve our Outback and head to the airport. We check our luggage and wait for Joe and Ben’s flight, which leaves first, eventually connecting to Tulsa, Oklahoma.
“Where will you live now?” I ask Joe.
He crosses his arms. “Now that I’m no longer needed to protect the tree for you, I think I’ll spend some time in Oklahoma.” He looks across the terminal at where Ben is sitting, and a smile crinkles his eyes. “I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. And then I’m moving my family closer to you and Nodin.”
“You are?” I’m surprised by the relief I feel at this news.
Joe nods and tilts his head. “The threat from the Tabari will always be part of your lives. But so will me and Ben.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes.
Forty-five minutes later, Baron, Mapiya and I leave for our long journey home, on the same flight, because we can. Our energy is no longer a concern, and I’m elated by this for more reasons than flying.
I use the flight to talk to Mapiya.
Really
talk. I want to know about her friends, her family, what her favorite animal is...everything. Because I’m done not connecting with people.
We land in Midland almost twenty-eight hours later and stay in Nodin’s apartment one night to rest before driving Mapiya home safe to her father as we promised. We meet him in the same spot, same Exxon, and my eyes are wet when they drive away.
Bye, little Buddha.
The entire drive to Baron’s home in Ardmore, we talk and laugh and enjoy spending time together without the fear and anxiety of the Order looming over our heads. It’s the most fulfilled I’ve ever felt. The most complete. The most grounded. The most happy.
During the drive, I receive a text from Aadam.
Apophis has been taken off the Torino Impact Hazard Scale “due to a slight variation in its trajectory.” Thought you’d want to know. -A
•◊ Epilogue ◊•
TWO YEARS LATER
JUNE 23, 2013
I
’m sitting on the banks of a river, my feet dangling in the cool water. The ground beneath me rumbles violently. I look at the water churning and undulating like a giant snake, black and boiling.
I yank my feet out and run as fast as I can, but the water level is rising over the bank, chasing me. It gets fuller and taller, and my feet are slapping in the soaked grass. The powerful water is reaching my knees, pulling me under, choking me.
I’m tumbling in the frigid waves, disoriented as objects scrape my face and body. I’m desperate, struggling to find the surface when I slam into something with bull-meets-matador velocity. It’s large and unmoving, so I cling with all my strength.
I feel parts of it in the darkness above me, and I move along it surface, pulling myself in the direction I hope is up. I gulp whale-sized breaths when my head breaks the surface.
It is a tree that saved me. Above me are four thick branches reaching toward the sky.
I awake with a gasp and glance at Baron. His eyes are wide, chest heaving. He looks confused, startled and...
Chills prickle my scalp and arms. This isn’t my nightmare. It’s Baron’s. I’m arcing for the first time in more than two years.
We’ve received a warning.
It will take four of us.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I
’m obsessed with acknowledgement pages. I hungrily flip to them, sometimes even before I’ve read the book. I’m fascinated by the veritable village it takes to go from an idea in a writer’s brain to a finished, published product.
When I first began this journey, it was an isolating, solo endeavor. But over time, I accumulated wonderful souls who cared about this crazy writing thing I was doing, and invested their time and energy to support me. I found my village, and I’ve been waiting a long time to thank them.
First and foremost, my husband, Jim. There were many days when the only thing that kept me going was his unyielding belief in me. He may be the slowest reader in the world, but he’s also the most supportive, and he has an eagle eye for inconsistencies.
My sons, Draden and Sawyer, for being tolerant of the gazillion hours I spend at the computer, for keeping me rooted inside the mind of a child – a magical place where anything’s possible, and for putting up with being called by my character’s names more times than I’d like to admit. But especially for that time I overheard you tell some friends your mom is a writer and my heart burst with pride.
My family and friends, whose encouragement and support still astound me. My beta readers, who were both honest and careful with my words. Robyn, for being my touchstone, therapist, sounding board, pseudo-agent and crème-de-le-crème of best friends. Mandi, my book whisperer, who consumed an inordinate amount of tacos with me while poring over edits, plot twists and character development, and whose invaluable advice changed everything for me, more than once.
To the blogging community and fellow authors: although I’ve never met any of you in person, yet, you were, and continue to be, an intrinsic part of this journey. Thank you for your encouragement, for inspiring me with your words, for your generous assistance, and for graciously lending your blogs to help market this book. Katie Cross, you deserve a medal for being so patient with my near-daily onslaught of questions. I’m immensely grateful for your advice and guidance.
A special thanks to my editors, Rebecca T. Dickson and Bailey Karfelt, who helped carve my pile of sand into a castle, and who were patient and kind to this rookie. The miraculous Jenny Zemanek, who made me the most delicious cover I’ve ever seen, and didn’t yell at me when I completely changed direction midway. For design elements, typesetting, and formatting, I was incredibly fortunate to work with the wicked-talented Jeff Johnston, Chris Bell, and Kella Campbell, respectively.
Thank you, village. You helped this writer fulfill a dream and I love you for it.
To the moon and stars.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BETH TELIHO
is a writer, artist and tree hugger who lives in Texas with her husband and two adventurous sons. Restless in the mundane, she writes about the abnormal, paranormal and otherwise fantastical because that’s what quickens her heartbeat. She laughs at inappropriate jokes, and prefers spicy food and margaritas to almost anything. One day, she hopes to live in a treehouse, where she can be an eccentric introvert with
at least
seven cats.
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TO CONNECT WITH BETH:
Website:
www.bethteliho.me
(Have questions for her about this novel? Don’t miss the I Get Around page for links to author interviews where your inquiries are sure to be addressed)
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/writerbisme
Twitterverse:
@beth_teliho
(search #Oo7 to find discussions and links about the book)
Goodreads:
www.goodreads.com/bethteliho
Pinterest:
www.pinterest.com/bethteliho
(Want to see how the author visualized the characters and scenery? Check out the Order of Seven Inspiration board)
She will love you forever if you kindly take the time to write a review!
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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