The Magi (The Magi Series) (3 page)

“Here you go. Bon appétit.” Uncle Stan handed Elijah a ham and turkey sandwich on a plate with some potato chips. He even tried to put the chips in a nice arrangement on the plate, maybe to make it seem like a fancy lunch.

“Thank you,” said Elijah.

“Don’t mention it,” said Uncle Stan. “Just wanted you to know that the police called today and want you to do a walk-through with them tomorrow. Sounds like they have more questions.”

“Okay.” Elijah didn’t know what more to say to that. The last place he wanted to go was back to the house. He hadn’t been back since that night.

“How much more of your folks’ stuff do you still need to go through?” asked Uncle Stan.

“Not much,” Elijah answered. “I think I’ll put most everything in storage.”

“Alrighty. I’ll start loading the truck pronto. I have some items to put in there if you don’t mind. Just some old furniture and books and such.” Even though Uncle Stan was trying to be upbeat, Elijah noticed that his eyes weren’t committed to his smile. There was grief beneath his blithe exterior. It made sense to Elijah. After all, Uncle Stan had just lost his brother. One night, Elijah had gotten up to use the restroom and found his uncle sitting at the table working on a model airplane. The next morning, before Uncle Stan woke up, Elijah walked over to the unfinished airplane and read a handmade card next to it. Even though it was written years ago, Elijah recognized the handwriting as his father’s. It read:

“
Happy Birthday Stanley. Once I get home, we can work on this together. I figure an airplane is fitting. Love, Billy.”

Elijah wasn’t sure he understood the card, but he understood what it meant to his uncle. It meant that he lost someone special too. Elijah considered asking about it, but he decided the card was between Uncle Stan and his dad.

After lunch, Elijah headed back to work sorting his parents’ belongings. While most of the items were going into storage, he wanted to keep something to remember each of his family members. To remember his mother, he kept a locket that had a picture of her and Elijah’s father inside. Elijah had given the locket to his mother for her birthday years ago. At the time it was all he could afford. It was very plain, and it started to rust and turn green on the back, but his mother kept it and wore it often, even though it turned her neck green. He thought the locket would remind him of her love and thoughtfulness.

To remember his father, Elijah kept a gold pocket watch. His father never left the house without having it in his possession. All his life, Elijah remembered listening to stories about the watch.

“This watch,” his father would say, “was created with the finest gold and the best craftsmanship you’ll ever see! It was specially made for me, and I want it to be worn and carried by the first-born son in our family. You must promise to protect this watch once you inherit it. It has a power inside it that may never be understood, but you must search for the answers.”

Elijah was never sure how much of his father’s stories he believed, but he knew how important the watch was. He delicately touched the gold letters on the inside that had his father’s initials, feeling the history that now came with it. He held it up to his ear and listened to the soft ticking noise.

The box Uncle Stan gave to Elijah contained nothing that belonged to Kyria, so Elijah picked up a picture of his sister and himself at the beach. It would have to do for now. He found an old shoebox and placed the three items inside. Then he pushed it away from the other clutter to keep it separate. These would now be his most prized possessions.

Elijah surveyed his piles. There were still two things left that he needed to sort. One in particular had him puzzled and fascinated at the same time. It was a glass cube filled with dirt. The casing was about the size of a golf ball, and there were no markings on it anywhere, which was odd because his mother was very meticulous when it came to labels. The cube itself was interesting because there didn’t seem to be an opening. Until he knew what it was, he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.

The other item left to sort was an old book he had never seen before. It was giant and written by hand. He didn’t have time to read it all now, but he wanted to get the basic idea so he could decide whether or not to keep it. Elijah randomly opened the book and read.

“
One hundred and forty years past the reign of Maliphist and there still is no sign of his sphere. Where there was once certainty in the world of the Magi, there is now fear and mistrust.”

Elijah had no idea what in the world that meant, so he turned the pages and read a few more lines.

“
It is my understanding that Tibirus and his people are withdrawing from the city. It is much too dangerous to be among the people when the Magi do not even trust each other. Even here, talk of persecution is stirring and we may be wise to begin fleeing.”

After a few more lines, Elijah decided that he was not going to understand the book. Still, he was curious to read more, even if it didn’t make sense. He gently placed the book on the floor, deciding that when he had time, he would pick it up again.

When he was finally finished, he felt much better. Elijah stood up looking at all the possessions neatly organized on the floor. It was done. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt very empty. He paused for a moment and thought of his parents again as he prepared to part with their things.

When all the belongings were secured inside the storage garage, Uncle Stan ordered two large pizzas and he and Elijah took them back to the house to eat. They spent the evening watching action-packed movies, each on his own chair with a pizza box on his lap. They “oohed” and “aahed” and laughed until they were too tired to keep their eyes open anymore.

Very early the next morning, Uncle Stan walked into Elijah’s room.

“You ready to go? You need to talk with the police today, remember?”

“Right now?” Elijah asked sleepily.

“Yup. We need to get a move on. It takes a few hours to get there from here. Go hop in the shower and I’ll get breakfast ready.”

Elijah took a long shower, trying to delay the trip. He knew that he had to face the house at some point, but he wasn’t sure he was ready. When he was done, he walked over to the shoebox that held his family’s valuable possessions—now his—and picked up the watch. His father had always carried it, so he figured today he should start carrying it too.

The drive to the house was long. Elijah grew up in a nice, quiet suburb in southern California. Uncle Stan’s house, tucked away in a small community, was about five hours north. Elijah decided that he would try to sleep so he didn’t have to think about what awaited him. He would have to relive the memory. He looked over at his uncle, who had been checking the rear view mirror since they left. Elijah fell asleep wondering what his uncle was looking for.

The police were already in the driveway when Uncle Stan’s truck pulled up. Elijah looked apprehensively at the place where he last saw his family alive. Uncle Stan got out of the car and was greeted by a police officer and a detective. The detective looked just like Elijah pictured a detective would look. He was tall and muscular with brown hair and a square jaw. He had on a white button-up shirt with a necktie and brown slacks. In one hand he held an envelope and a note pad. The detective walked around to Elijah’s door and bent down.

“Hey there, you must be Elijah. My name is Detective Scott. Do you mind taking a walk with me?” Elijah gathered his courage, got out of the car, and followed the detective into the house. “Follow me,” he said firmly. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“Not really,” Elijah admitted.

“I know you’ve given your story to the police already, but I want to hear it from you and have you walk me through everything that happened.” Detective Scott glanced quickly at Uncle Stan. Something was odd about the way he looked at him. “As it happened here in the house,” the detective explained, now in a whisper as he looked back at Elijah. “From your testimony, you heard something down here?”

Elijah didn’t want to admit that he actually hadn’t heard anything at all, and that he just
felt
that something was wrong, so he went along with the detective’s assumption.

“Yeah,” Elijah said. “I was upstairs in my room.”

“Why don’t we go up there.” said Detective Scott. “Truman, talk to the uncle down here.” Elijah and the detective started up the stairs and left Uncle Stan and the other police officer on the bottom floor. Halfway up, Elijah froze and his throat knotted up as he thought about his mother who died at the spot where he now stood. When the detective looked impatiently at his hesitation, Elijah’s trance broke and he hurried up to his room.

“Walk me through it,” Detective Scott instructed.

“I was in here and I heard a noise so I got up and hid in the corner,” Elijah started.

“How long?”

“I’m not sure. Not very long.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I went down the stairs.” As he recalled his story, Elijah felt like he was making his escape sound so mundane, as if he just went down to grab a snack or take out the trash. He didn’t know how to say that the trip down the stairs was one of the most terrifying moments of his life.

“What made you decide to go down the stairs?” asked the detective.

“I’m not sure. It just felt right,” said Elijah.

“Did you see anything?”

“No.”

“Did you hear a noise somewhere else that you were running away from?”

“No. I don’t know how to explain it. I just knew I needed to do it.” He knew that the detective was just doing his job, but Elijah was starting to become irritated at the tone of the questions. Like he was in trouble.

“Okay,” said Detective Scott, “then what happened?”

“I went into the kitchen.” Elijah pointed and they went back down the stairs and followed the path that he had used to escape a week ago. “I tried to use the phone to call for help, but the power went off.”

“No other reports of a power outage in this area were filed,” Detective Scott said. “Are you sure you tried the phone?” Elijah glared at him. What kind of question was that? He wanted to scream at the detective, but he composed himself before he answered.

“Yes. I’m positive.”

“Okay,” said Detective Scott. “What happened next?”

“I saw him.”

“Who?”

“The man who murdered my parents and sister!” Elijah’s voice started to rise.

“What did he look like?”

“I could only see his eyes and his. . . .outline.”

“And you said he had yellow eyes.” Elijah wasn’t sure if this was a question or a statement.

“Yes. He did.”

“Are you sure they were yellow, or could it have been a reflection?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

For the next twenty minutes Elijah walked the detective through the house answering every detail he could remember. When they reached the side yard where Elijah ran into his father that night, the intensity of Detective Scott suddenly changed. He moved extremely close to Elijah and asked him to be very specific. Elijah could feel the detective’s focus. He knew this was why he had been called back to the house.

“How did you see your father?” Detective Scott asked.

“I just ran into him,” Elijah answered.

“How did he get here?”

“I don’t know. He just appeared. I was turned around when I ran into him.”

“What did he say? Be specific.”

“He said…” Elijah thought carefully. “He said that he loved me and that there was a plan.”

“What plan? What did he mean by that?”

Elijah wished he knew because it seemed to him that the plan didn’t work.

“I really don’t know what he meant,” answered Elijah.

Detective Scott didn’t look satisfied with that answer, but he let it go.

“Was there anything else? Did your father say anything else to you?”

“I don’t think so.” Elijah was suddenly having trouble remembering the details that had haunted him for nights. Detective Scott looked around the yard while deep in thought. Elijah shifted uncomfortably and stepped into a wet puddle next to the house.

“Elijah,” Detective Scott said slowly, “there was a lot of debris scattered around the yard.” He pulled out the envelope he had been holding and handed Elijah a photograph of the scene. “We cleaned it up already, but does any of this look familiar?” Wiping his shoe off on the grass, Elijah peered over at the picture. There were tree branches strung about, metal scraps from who knows where, and other elements he couldn’t make out all over the yard.

“No,” said Elijah. “When I left it looked completely normal.”

Detective Scott wrote that down and took a deep breath.

“This is where the case gets a little—different,” said the detective. “Look at the house.” Elijah turned around, and at first everything seemed normal. But as he looked more closely, he saw dozens and dozens of holes with what looked like small burn marks around them. “I was hoping you would share with me what you know about that.”