Chapter 53—Earth

I want to rip his head from his shoulders. I want to pull his cute little house apart and shred the bits into potpourri. A pile of John-scented chunks sounds about right. I've been wracking my brain over how to find Devlin Rochester and his son was busy hiring my brother and posing as my friend.

I’m a chump.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't mail your head to your father with an invitation to his own funeral?”

John's eyes are clear, calm, and unafraid. “Just one? Alright, how about this. I want him dead as much as you do.”

My eyes widen. “Why would you want your own father dead? He's bankrolling your stupid start-up company. He’s the reason you can sit around all day playing video games. He probably paid for that red sports car, too.”

“My dad killed my mom. I didn't like him much before, but I've hated him every day since her death.”

I recall him mentioning that his mom had bad dreams. “She dreamt of Terra.”

He shrugs. “Well, Erra, really.”

“Huh?”

“She was an elemental, not a telekinetic. They call their world, er, prison place Erra.”

“Are you serious?”

“Not the point,” he says. “So yes, she dreamed of it, just like you.”

“But your dad obviously knew it was a real place.”

He nods. “He did. He and my mom married young, and she was so excited that he was interested in her. The Followers of Amun Woke my dad when he was only eleven, and he hated them for it, for years and years.” He gulps. “Mom hated them too—they met at an Isis meeting. But then one day, he just decided to join the enemy.”

I shake my head. “That makes no sense.”

“He joined after he read their prophecy about you, Alora.”

I want to know if it's the same prophecy. I want to know why Amun wants to kill me on Terra, but here they're the ones who want me to live.

“No.” I slam his chair into the ground. “You don't get to use some stupid prophecy to lure me. My dad abandoned my brother and me, and even when our new parents died, he never showed up. I know he's alive, because he's alive on Terra. Even so, I don't hate him. I'd punch him in the jaw, but I wouldn't kill him. Why should I believe you haven't just lured me in as a favor to your dad? Maybe you’re just killing time until he arrives.”

“Check my phone.”

I follow John’s eyes to the latest iPhone on the counter.

“Go ahead. Use my face to get into it. If I had texted him, there’ll be some kind of history.”

Unless he deleted it, but I haven’t noticed him even glance at his phone since meeting me on that bench.

“Look, Alora, my dad was a pretty important guy with Isis for a long time, and my parents seemed happy enough. Eventually, he got promoted and promoted and he had access to the oldest records they have. At the end of the day, he didn't agree that they should kill the Warden. He thought when she came, it was a sign that the prison should crumble, like it was a sort of training wheels scenario, where we could have developed enough to rule benevolently, and do better than we did long ago. When he switched sides and joined Amun, Dad had some issues with forcing kids Awake, but he got over those.” John grits his teeth and looks at the wall.

“Are you okay?” He looks so convincingly broken.

“The leadership insisted that I be Woken as a condition of his advancement.”

He looks upset, but what if it's just a manipulation? “Get to the part about your mom.”

“Mom lost it when he joined the Followers of Amun. Her father worked for them and she hated them all the way down to her bone marrow. No prophecy would change her feelings. The bad blood goes back decades. She freaked out and left him. When he pursued her, she tried to kill him. I know that makes my mom sound bad, but the way Amun treats women sometimes, well, she couldn't bear the thought of going back to someone who would be working for them, even though my dad swore he’d protect her. . .”

“Why not simply divorce him? That happens every day.”

“You'd think, right? My dad's not conventional, I guess. He wouldn’t allow it—he had her committed, using her dreams as his excuse. When she sent a letter, threatening to end it all, he should have gone to get her. He should have let her out and allowed her to move on. Only, the Followers of Amun saw it as weakness that he couldn’t control his wife. He needed to Wake his son, and get his woman under control. Or maybe he just wanted to prove he was ruthless enough to do whatever it took. Either way, he wouldn't let her go.”

“Oh, no,” I say.

John closes his eyes. “I was only ten when my mom committed suicide. Too young to do anything about it or even really understand why. I only realized it was Dad’s fault a few years ago, when I found her letter. I vowed to make him pay for what he did to our family.”

I've spent most of my life listening to people lie in some way, shape, or form. I've gotten pretty good at spotting baloney. His words ring with truth, authenticity, and pain. His anger seems real enough, too.

I release the Binding on his hands and feet, and he slumps forward in the chair.

“Your dad ruined my life. He tried to Wake Jesse over and over and it destroyed us. No matter how many times we ran, he always followed. And then, when nothing else worked. . .” I watch him for a moment to make sure that John is really listening. “He killed my brother to Wake me.”

“I am so, so sorry. But I’m not surprised. He’s a zealot, and. . .he thinks you’re the Warden, doesn’t he?”

“He does—everyone does, here and on Terra.” I’ve seen that prophecy, but not this one. “Do you have the prophecy? The one that changed your dad’s mind? You said it’s not the same as the one on Terra?”

He shrugs. “I don’t have it, but I’ve seen it and Dad’s recited it before. I could probably write most of it down. I’m not sure if that’ll help or hurt, if I’m off on some things.”

“It can’t hurt.” I sure hope that’s true.

He grabs a piece of paper and starts writing. Finally, he hands it to me. “That’s as close as I can remember.”

As with women it began, with the warden it ends. She who can bridge the divide will rend the prison walls, rescuing the wartorn. They will fall one at a time, all four walls, until the world is whole again. The bindings will shake, and if she fails, will be ripped apart. The storm will rage against her and will require a great sacrifice, but none can stand against her wrath. Salvation comes from her hand, and with the rod she shall be healed.

Only she can choose. Only she can restore. Only she can redeem. But she won’t do it alone.

Bridge the divide? Rend the prison walls, rescuing the war torn?

Rescuing.

That’s what I need to do—rescue Jesse. “You said you’re an elemental?”

John’s eyes widen and he nods.

“What can you do, then?”

“Everyone gets the power their mother has, with hardly any exceptions,” he says. “Mom was a fire elemental, and so. . .” He holds out his hand, palm up, and flattens his fingers quickly, and a tiny flame dances in the air above his hand. A moment later he closes his hand and it winks out.

Whoa. Crazy. “Okay, so you can start fires anywhere?”

He shrugs. “I can put them out, too.”

“But you can’t Lift.”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Sorry.”

“Which means you’re not even present on Terra.” I bite my lip. “Your dad is, but you’re not.”

“Correct. My mom would have had a Naming thingy on Erra, and she would have known she’d named me John here, and called me that there. But no father on Erra would have felt the same. I’d either be raised by her husband, if she has one, or by a single mom. Pretty terrible, huh?”

It is sad, but I can’t worry about that right now. I’ve got to either figure out how to save Jesse. . .or if I can’t. . .