ORDER OF SEVEN (6 page)

I don’t do clutter.

In my bedroom, I get a tack from my desk and hang my newest Ben drawing on the wall next to my window. This one makes fourteen. Each one is a tree. The first time he came to visit Nodin in Odessa, way before my parents sold the house, he gave me my first drawing. I had been shocked to see it was a tree. Of course, I was aware of his psychic abilities. I had to assume that’s how he knew the significance, but I buried the notion he knew any details. It was too uncomfortable. Too
naked
. So I accepted his drawings over the years without a word about them.

I take a quick shower to get the tangles out, then put on sweatpants, and an old concert T-shirt that has been downgraded to pajamas because of a rip on the sleeve, compliments of my tree. Or rather, attempting to climb the fence to get to my tree before I knew Joe. I will wear this shirt until it falls apart. It was the first, and only, concert I’d ever been to. Dad took Nodin and me to see one of his favorites play, B.B. King. That’s when I fell in love with the Blues. I had never really connected to music before then, but something about the soulful rhythm of the Blues speaks to me.

I put on my favorite Blues CD, John Lee Hooker. While brushing my teeth, I realize I have to do something else before going to bed. Inspiration tugs at me as it often happens on tree days. Words play in my head, repeating, elaborating. I grab a paper and pencil from my desk and scribble them down. Sometimes it is short stories, but most of the time I write poems. I’ve never shown them to anyone. They’re just for me.

I finish the poem to my satisfaction and crawl into bed. As I reach to turn off the lamp on my nightstand I see the tree of life charm I set there. I’m not really a jewelry person, but the gift is so special to me, I’m going to make an exception.

About four years ago, Mom gave me a charm bracelet with a horse dangling from it for Christmas. Although I appreciated the thought that went into it, I never wore it. Horses are her thing, not mine.

I crawl out of bed and root through the small, wooden jewelry box I’ve had since I was little. There are only four things in it, so I find the charm bracelet immediately. With my teeth, I pry open the ring holding the horse on and do the same to attach the tree of life charm. I jingle my wrist and smile, happy to have something that’s uniquely mine.

Turning off the lamp first, I resume my spot in bed. I’m afraid I’ll be up for hours, spinning off of the day’s craziness, but soon the heaviness of my lids says otherwise. My muscles ache. Not just from the exertion at the tree, but from the energy with Baron, the tension with Nodin...all of it. Fatigue takes over and in a matter of minutes John Lee’s “Boom Boom” lures me to the land of nod.

•◊•◊•

Shrill beeps pierce my brain. As the heavy fog of sleep lifts, I realize it’s my cell phone. I jump out of bed and fumble in the dark for it. The caller ID reads
Unknown
. My first thought is a solicitor, but in the middle of the night? I answer.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end lights me up like a candle. “Devi,” Baron whispers.

Hearing my name come off his lips is like sugar.

“It’s Baron.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry to call you so late—I had to wait until the guys were asleep. I got your number from your brother’s phone, I hope you don’t mind. We need to talk. Alone.”

Butterflies twirl through my stomach. “When?”

“Now.”

“Now? What time is it?”

“Quarter to one. Ben’s asleep. He won’t know what we’re up to if we’re careful. I can leave right now.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah. Come over.”

I give him my address and we hang up.
Holy shit.
I brush my teeth again and change into jeans and a T-shirt. The Jamies are thankfully not home yet. They close down the bar on weekends and don’t get home until nearly three in the morning.

By the time I get myself together and to the front of the house, I can see headlights beaming through the blinds. I peek out and see a silver Jeep. The headlights go out. There’s no movement. I start to grab my jacket to go out to him when the driver’s door opens. He’s halfway across the lawn when the hum surfaces, like an amp left on way too loud.

Baron’s wearing a dark corduroy jacket over a different T-shirt, with a logo on the front that says
Climbers Rock
, and his hair is held back by a red headband. Nodin’s warning rings in my head and I feel a little leery without the others around. As he gets closer, the energy begins thrashing violently between us.

“Stop,” I say just before he walks up the three porch steps. The pressure on my ears hurts.

He backs away. At about ten feet apart we reach a comfortable level.

“It’s so strong,” I say, looking around at the fireworks I feel should be visible.

“I’m sorry to do this to you. Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine, don’t apologize.”

“It’s affecting you.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I first see you, your aura is all creamy yellows, like sunshine. But after about a minute, like right now, your energy is agitated by our reaction. Now you’re oranges and reds.”

“That would explain why I feel...tense.”

He nods. “Definitely.”

We stare at each other for a minute before he breaks the silence.

“The reason I’m here is because I wanted to tell you something first.” Baron takes a deep breath. “I have visions. I’ve gotten them most of my life. They start as a symbol I see in a dream every night. When I’ve figured out the meaning of the symbol, the vision stops. Eventually, another will start. I’ve recorded and researched them, never understanding their purpose, never knowing what to do with the information.”

He pauses, holding my gaze with his steady one. “Now I know they have to do with this.
With us.
”

It takes a few seconds before I pull my thoughts together and respond. “Do you have the symbols with you?”

“I always do.” He unzips his jacket and slides it off his shoulders. The shirt he changed into is short-sleeved. He holds out his arms. They’re covered in tattoos.

I gasp. “Those are all the symbols?”

“No, but I’m not going to get half-naked in your front yard.” He gives me an irresistible crooked grin that makes my stomach drop.

I beckon him in the house, careful to stay a comfortable distance from him. He shuts the front door and sits on the end of the couch. I sit in a chair on the other side of the room.

“Tell me everything,” I say just above a whisper. The energy between us is palpable. I grip the arms of my chair and stare at his tattoos, mesmerized.

“When I see a vision enough times to have a clear image of it, I tattoo it. The first time I did it was just instinct I guess. I’d been seeing this vision for years, since I was about seven. It was a bear. This one.” Baron pulls up his right sleeve to reveal his shoulder. It’s a bear, his mouth wide open and exposing teeth.

“At seventeen, I inked the bear on my shoulder because it had become such a part of me. Then the vision stopped. Pretty soon a new one began. After I saw it nightly for about a month, I inked it as well. And that vision stopped too.” He turns his left forearm up and points to a smaller tattoo just inside his wrist. It is two red dots with a red line over them. “The Mayan symbol for the number seven. Now that I know how to stop the visions, I don’t wait as long. As soon as I start seeing one enough to get a clear mental picture of it and an understanding of what it is, I ink it.”

“What’s the significance of the number seven?”

“I have no idea what its relevance to us is, but it’s considered nature’s perfect number. You see it in math, science, astronomy, religion, biology—”

“Wait a minute, how come Nodin doesn’t know about this?”

“Because I never told him. I mean, he’s heard about the visions before, years ago, and he knows I have tattoos, but he doesn’t know the tattoos are symbols. It’s not something I talk about. Since I began getting the tats, we’ve only seen each other a handful of times. The last thing we want to talk about when we hang out is anything SAI.” His voice, his demeanor, are so calm and confident they lure me to him. He knows who he is, a quality I’d do anything for. I want to take it off him and wear it.

“Why the secrecy?”

He shrugs. “I guess I feel protective of them. They’re sacred. I have them tattooed as a symbol—a ritual—to make them a part of me. It was never to advertise them.”

I nod, understanding. “So what do you think the visions mean?”

“I wish I could tell you. We’ll go through them and see what we can figure out.”

“Earlier at Nodin’s, when I arced, I heard you think something. I’m sorry if this seems invasive...”

“Go ahead.”

“You thought, ‘it’s her.’”

He leans forward. “That’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about. I had a vision a couple years ago.” He closes his eyes. “It’s a pitch black night except for the full moon. I see the silhouette of a girl with long hair standing in a field with her back to me. There isn’t a sound, until a crowd of people I can’t see chant something so quietly I have to strain to hear it. They chant it seven times.” His eyes open and fix on mine. “You’re the girl.”

It feels like caterpillars are crawling under my skin. “What were the people chanting?”

To my surprise, he stands and pulls his shirt off. His body is perfection. Long and lean. Beautiful olive skin stretched over toned muscles. His jeans hang off his hips, accentuating tight abs. A huge yellow sun tattoo sits in the middle of his torso with long, red rays stretching across his chest and down his navel. Words are etched under the length of his collar bone and more ink peeks out from under his arm along the side of his body. My eyes drink him in.

Someone who looks like him should be arrogant, but he’s not. Confident, but not cocky. Intense, yet approachable. I’m out of my element. He’s not predictable like the guys I’ve been with. He doesn’t look at me like a conquest or as though he expects me to want him. He looks at me like a person.

“This is it,” he says, pointing to the script under his collar bone. “It took forever for me to learn what it meant. It’s not English. Hahn helped me translate. He knows a lot about ancient tribes from all around the world. We ended up figuring out it’s a derivative of an Incan language from Peru. It means, ‘She walks shining under the moon’.”

I peer at the script and can make out the first two words. The blood drains from my face. “What did they say in your vision?”

His green eyes lock with mine. “Dakahn manyan—”

“—mah pih tah nili hasi,” I finish.

His eyes widen.

Without even thinking about the consequences, I leap up and run to him. As I get closer the air pressure eases and the pull mounts, then releases with a smash as our bodies meet. My hands go to his chest, touching the letters with disbelief, tears stinging my eyes.

“How did you know that?” he demands, squeezing my shoulders.

“This is me. This is my name.” I can’t even feel the floor under my feet. My fingers sweep over the letters to make sure they’re real. “You couldn’t have known. Has Nodin seen this?”

“No. I don’t think he has.” He pauses. “What do you mean it’s your name?”

I wipe my damp eyes with the back of my hand. “I have one memory from before we were adopted. It’s stuck with me in a reoccurring dream. I’m in some sort of tribal ceremony with masked people and drummers. One man in particular is the speaker. He stands and says these words to me and everyone goes nuts, cheering and reaching to touch me. I know it’s a title or name he’s given me. My name.”

He pulls me tight against him. “This is unbelievable.”

I tremble and lay my head against him. The formerly throttling vibrations are now wrapped around us like a warm blanket. Since we’ve come in contact, I’m arcing with him. To say it’s an odd sensation is an understatement.

Random thoughts intrude mine. Snapshots, sometimes seeing myself from his perspective. Knowing his feelings is the strangest part. It’s like a suggestion from somewhere I can’t pinpoint. His entire mind is vulnerable, blurring with my own reality, like two video reels meshing.

It dawns on me I’m pressed against his bare chest and I’ve only known him three hours. I’m not entirely comfortable, yet it doesn’t feel as awkward as it should. I feel close to him, though I’m intimidated. Not just by the energy, but by him. I’ve only been with sloppy-handed boys. This is different. Baron is a man.

In my mind, I watch the vision he told me about. I’m standing under a full moon, breeze blowing my hair.
It’s you. You’re finally here,
he thinks. I sense his affection for me. I peer into the darkest recesses of his mind and know I can trust him.

The formerly impenetrable wall I’ve spent years building around myself begins to weaken.
Oh. Shit.

“The energy, it’s less painful.” His voice vibrates against my cheek. “Do you notice that?”

“I do,” I say. “It’s going through us now, rather than at us.”

“You okay now?” he says. His hands fall from my shoulders to my hips.

My stomach clenches at his touch. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I start to go back to the chair when he takes my hand and pulls me with him to the couch.

I’m still processing the magnitude of what we just discovered, my mind whirling like the spin cycle of a wash machine. Baron releases my hand to retrieve his shirt and put it back on, and when he does the energy thrashes again. We relax against the cushions, my hand folded back in his, when something dawns on me.

“Hey, you said the language is Incan?”

“That’s right.” His free hand subconsciously touches the tattoo, now concealed again by his shirt.

“Nodin and I always assumed it was Afrikaans or some other African language—no wonder we couldn’t get anywhere with it. What else do you know about the people who speak it?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t remember a lot. It’s been a few years.” He looks thoughtful, searching his memory. “I know they lived in the mountains of Peru a long time ago. They were called the Tabari, which, if I remember correctly, means White Spirit or something close to that. The rest I have in my notes back home.”