Darkness of Time, page 33
He tapped his lips. “Anyway, when she found out of his dark ways, she protested and put her foot down. She said, ‘I want a normal life!’ You can imagine that’s an impossible task for a demon to provide. Still, Malik tried to alter his behavior somewhat. Sadly, it didn’t work. He needed to kill to retain his power. So, Layla discovered that the sun and the moon daggers would help erase his darkness.”
“Really?” I said, lifting my palms to my cheeks.
“Yes. Someone told Layla this. She and Malik also learned that Balthazar also wanted to get his hands on the knives. Only he wanted them to increase his power.” John James shuddered. “Oh, goodness, it would be bad if Balthazar got his hands on the sun and the moon blades. Terrible indeed. The entire world would be in chaos.”
“How so?” Marcellious said.
“Balthazar could rule the world!” John James spread his arms wide. “He could make the world dark and kill everyone!”
I gasped. Even though I was weak, the impulse to find the daggers and keep them out of Balthazar’s hands grew enormous, filling me with resolve.
John James shook his head, and his eyes creased with worry. “Oh, it would be awful. He’d make people kill one another, then consume their souls. He’d become so powerful, nothing and no one could stop him!”
I turned to Marcellious. “We can’t let him get his hands on those weapons!”
“Finally, we have a plan,” Marcellious said, smirking.
I scoffed, dismissing him.
“So, Malik wanted to find the two blades to stop killing and be with Layla forever. He went to Balthazar and laid out his plan. This was a mistake, but he was in love.” John James let out a huge sigh. “He said, ‘if I find the sun and the moon daggers, I will stop killing and remain with Layla. You can stop killing and be with Alina.’ Apparently, he begged and pleaded with Balthazar. But the only thing Balthazar wants is power. He’s consumed by his drive to conquer the world. So, what did Balthazar do? He killed Layla. Then, he imprisoned Malik for growing weak with love.”
I touched my fingertips to my mouth. “Oh, God! What a bastard! Malik can’t be dead, right? If he has knowledge of my mother’s journal, he has to be alive.”
“I don’t know. Some say he’s dead. Some reported seeing Malik alive.” John James pressed his lips together.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“I think he’s alive somewhere. I believe he’s escaped.” John James fixed his blue-eyed gaze on me. “Balthazar thinks he’s dead. But I think…no, I know Malik is hiding in the shadows, biding his time, waiting for his time to strike. He’s plotting and scheming; I guarantee you that. Malik knows Balthazar’s secrets—his weaknesses. Hell, he knows everything about Balthazar. That’s why if you find him, he’ll help you. You can all help one another.”
I cast a glance at Marcellious. Was he thinking what I was thinking?
My attention was right back on John James. “What do you mean he hides in the shadows?”
“Just that. My sources tell me he lurks. He stalks. He hides in the shadows. And he waits, like the super predator he is.” John James’ expression closed down like he’d secured the premises, preparing for a storm. “If anyone can wait patiently, plotting his attack against Balthazar, it’s Malik. Time has only fueled his anger. You should not mess with Malik, but he will also help you.”
“I think I know who he is. I think I’ve seen him.”
I might as well have lit a bomb by the expressions on both Marcellious’ and John James’ faces.
“Tell me more,” John James said, leaning forward.
“Someone’s been watching me. He always lurks in the shadows. He even came into my teepee after I lost my baby. He told me to stay strong and not give up. But I couldn’t see him—it was too dark. And then—poof! He disappeared as if he was never there. I thought I made him up.” A whirlwind of excitement uncoiled in my belly.
John James bobbed his head up and down. “He lives in the night’s shadows like a whisper in the wind. Together, you can take Balthazar down! You must find him.”
Olivia
Marcellious and I stared at one another, our eyes as wide as silver moons. Eyan Malik, the mysterious, shadowy figure who had saved Roman from his prison and comforted me after losing my baby, held the key to destroying Balthazar. At last, after all these fruitless months of searching, I had hope. I’d finally found Balthazar’s weakness. Balthazar had raised Malik as his own son. Taught him everything. Malik knew Balthazar’s flaws and foibles as intimately as he knew his own breath. Yet, Balthazar had made one fatal move—he’d killed Malik’s true love.
Malik hated Balthazar and sought revenge, watching, waiting, and biding his time like a predator.
Yet, as jubilant as I was to have found an answer, fear trembled through my veins. Both Balthazar and Malik were powerful demons. What made me consider that Malik would help me and not destroy me? Just because he’d shown kindness, he was still darkness, and the darkness could not be trusted.
Outside of John James’ tiny cottage, the gurgling creek drew my attention back to the present. We sat around John James’ makeshift table inside his cozy, cluttered environment. A breeze blew through the open sash window, lifting some of John James’ papers he’d left on the bed and sending them spinning.
“Oh, dear,” John James said, scurrying across the room to gather the parchment now strewn across the floor. He picked them up, placed them back on the bed, and closed the window before returning to his seat across from me.
“Any idea where I can find Malik? If he has the journal and the ability to kill Balthazar, you must tell me where to find him,” I said, pressing my knuckles into the worn wood of the table.
John James stroked his jaw. “My sources tell me he’s in the Catskills of New York.”
“The Catskills? That’s an awfully long way from here,” I said, despondency nibbling at the edges of my hope. “That will take us weeks.”
My shoulders drooped, weighed down by the thought of such arduous travel.
“If you ride on horseback, the journey won’t be so long,” John James said, optimism brightening his face.
Easy for you to say, I thought but said nothing.
“What are your sources, if you don’t mind my asking?” Marcellious drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “How do we know we can trust them? Even if we got to the Catskills in a week, which seems unlikely, it would be a total waste of time if we only traveled on a hunch.”
“Oh, I’m part of a secret network. You see, my family has been studying time travel since the beginning of time.” John James wiped his hand through the air, disturbing the flight path of two flies that buzzed in lazy circles over our heads. “My father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and so on all carried the burden of this particular study through the generations. My father is Jeremiah Jackson James.”
I let out a gasp. “My father’s name was Jack James!”
John James nodded. “I know. I was the one who sent Alina to find your father.”
I reeled back. “That’s impossible.”
“I’m afraid not. I knew the lineage works in both future and past directions.” John James pressed his fingertip against a few hardtack crumbs lingering on the table. “When your mother sought me out, telling me she couldn’t find the sun and moon knives, I told her to travel to the future. She had to find one of my family afterbears. The individual she needed to seek out would be as obsessed with time travel as I am.”
I dug my fingernails into the worn wood next to the empty plate. “Are you telling me my mother met my father on purpose? He was the one she sought, and it wasn’t true love?”
“Yes.” John James’ bobbed his chin up and down. “Your mother traveled back and forth between this time and your time. We’d confer over possible matches until she told me of a student completing his dissertation in time travel at McMont College in a province in Canada. She described him to me, and I said, ‘That’s the one! He’s one of my afterbears.’”
He slumped slightly, giving his spine a soft C-curve. “The last time I saw your mom, she seemed nervous and sad. But you, Olivia, gave her strength and hope. Oh, how her eyes lit up when she spoke of you.”
He clasped his hands beneath his chin.
“I find that hard to believe,” I said, my diaphragm tightening at the thought of my mom zipping back and forth between centuries.
John James reached across the table and patted my hand.
I cringed, wanting to yank my hand out from beneath his patronizing touch yet bound to niceties by the strangeness of his resemblance to my father.
“Don’t hate your mother,” John James said, withdrawing his hand. “You and she are quite similar.”
“There’s nothing similar about my whoring mother and me,” I shot back, teeth bared.
John James blinked. “I beg to differ. You and Alina have parallel lives. You may have lost your husband and child, but your mother had it equally as bad, if not worse. You owe it to yourself to learn her story. I hope you will get answers to your questions.”
Before I could ask him more, he rose and bustled around the small space, searching for something.
My betraying heart grew hopeful. Was he looking for some kind of keepsake Mom had given him? Something of hers that might soften my hatred of her?
I perched at the edge of my chair, eager to see what he sought.
Finally, he picked up a piece of parchment and waved it. “A-ha! I knew I had this somewhere. Your mother gave it to me.”
My leg pumped up and down with excitement. “What is it?”
“It’s a map!” He lay the parchment on the table with a flourish and stabbed a finger at a spot. “And there’s the Catskills! Now you can find your way.”
The air left my lungs like a deflating balloon. Even still, I clung to the splinter of hope that maybe, just maybe, Mom had loved me and left me something to prove it. But it was only a map.
Still, a map leading to the Catskills was better than no map. We didn’t exactly have GPS. And finding Malik to determine if he would help us kill Balthazar was tantamount.
So, forcing as much cheer as I could, I thanked John James for his time, promised to return and visit him, and said goodbye. Marcellious and I departed.
A lightness in my heart gave me a much-needed spring to my steps. We had a direction to follow! Finally, we might be able to end this terrible existence.
An idea struck me, and when we returned to our small encampment, I made a beeline to Grey Feather’s teepee.
“Chief, may I enter?” I asked respectfully when I stood outside his dwelling.
“Yes, yes,” he answered, and I ducked beneath the door flap to enter.
I sat across from him. He’d aged a lifetime since I saw him last, which wasn’t that long ago—perhaps a few hours. But maybe I had, too. We both carried burdens of grief and sorrow upon our backs. Mine had only lessened when sitting with John James, but the toll my grief had taken remained etched on my face.
“What can I do for you today?” Grey Feather asked.
Dark clouds of emotion shrouded him, and I felt uncomfortable in his presence. “When you pronounced Roman and me as husband and wife, you told me we could use our sacred weapons to learn of the other’s whereabouts.”
The barest glimmer of light shone in his eyes. “That’s right. I’d completely forgotten.”
“I’d like to use my dagger to see where he is. If he’s alive, I want to know about it. As you know, I’ve been in the darkest places these last few weeks—had I remembered the dagger connection, I might have been comforted by finding Roman, dead or alive. If he’s dead, I can grieve and move on. But if he’s alive….” Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, and I couldn’t complete my sentence.
“Of course, of course! We could all use some comfort at this time.” Grey Feather gestured as if the spark of life in his eyes had spread through his limbs. “Do you have your knife?”
“I always carry it with me.” I pivoted away from him and discretely removed it from my thigh. Then, I turned back around and held it in my palm. “What do we do?”
“Sit right here.” He patted the fur by his side.
I crawled and settled next to him.
He held out his palm, and I placed my knife into his hand.
Firmly gripping one of my fingers, he held my dagger before him. “Repeat the sacred scripture.”
I exhaled, squared my shoulders, and began reciting the words.
He sliced my finger in one quick move. “Again. Repeat it.”
He positioned my weapon beneath my hand and squeezed my finger.
I repeated the chant again.
Three drops of crimson fell on the gleaming blade, sizzling as they landed.
“Show us where Roman has gone,” Grey Feather said solemnly. “Reveal his journey to us.”
The transparent visage of Roman stood before me, looking outward as a wall of enemy warriors descended over the hill toward him and the Sioux.
As if we were one body and one mind, I felt the fear and defeat he experienced and the resolve to fight valiantly and courageously.
Roman never gave up.
My body was flooded with love and longing.
“Oh, my love,” I said, reaching out to touch him. My hand slid right through the image.
The next scene showed him galloping across the plains, his rifle locked and loaded. He took aim and pulled the trigger, and warrior after warrior fell to his death. I looked through Roman’s eyes, witnessing the Kiowa and the Comanche bludgeoning Sioux warriors with tomahawks.
Tears streamed down my face as I watched Roman and a Kiowa falling to the ground from their horses. I silently cheered Roman on as he struggled to gain purchase over the Kiowa, finally defeating him by stabbing him through the heart.
An arrow struck Roman, then a knife sliced his calf. Other grisly scenes followed, then I watched in horror as Earth Bear was slain.
I glanced at Grey Feather, but he sat with his eyes closed, holding space for my journey of witnessing my husband fight.
Roman fell to the ground, and a deadly blade plunged into his belly.
A gasp left my throat. “No! No, no, no!”
I covered my mouth with my palm.
Roman lay dying on the battlefield. Slain Sioux warriors were all around him.
I swayed where I sat, feeling Roman’s life force draining as if it were my own. Now I was living each moment as if I were Roman. My breathing grew labored, and I was no longer aware of my body. Instead, I felt my soul drifting from my skull like smoke.
Someone dragged my body away from the battlefield when I thought I’d be dead.
Is it Marcellious? Yes, I think it is.
After that, as Roman, I was alone, heading toward the fade once more.
A voice yanked Roman’s spirit back into his body. Who is it? I recognize that voice. Roman managed to open his eyes and saw the visage of the mysterious male who had rescued him from Balthazar’s dungeon.
Another gasp left my lips as I zipped back into my own body. I peered at the two images before me.
That’s got to be Eyan Malik. It’s got to be!
Malik held something in his hands, but I couldn’t make it out. Maybe Roman was too weak to comprehend what was happening to him.
The images disappeared like a bubble popping.
“Wait!” I cried out. “I didn’t get to see what happened!”
The chief startled, and his eyes flew open. “Did you see? Where is he?”
I reached for the chief’s shoulder, needing to steady myself. “There was someone with him. Roman was dying, but someone appeared to be helping him. Have you ever heard of Eyan Malik?”
Grey Feather frowned. “Eyan Malik? He’s a myth. No one has seen him. We’ve only heard stories.”
“He’s alive, chief, and I have to find him! He’s got Roman!” I took my dagger from the chief’s hand, hugged him, and thanked him for sitting with me, then I rushed from the teepee.
Marcellious and I had to leave at once. We just had to!
I found Marcellious watching the horse herd graze.
All the horses stood with their heads down, contentedly munching stalks of Big Bluestem. Huge puffy clouds meandered across the horizon behind them.
Marcellious turned to look over his shoulder at me.
“Olivia,” he said once I stood near him. He’d stuck a blade of grass between his teeth, and it bobbed up and down as he spoke. “Why the smile?”
I hadn’t realized I’d been smiling. “We need to head for the Catskills at once. Eyan Malik has Roman.”
Marcellious pulled back his head. “And you know this, how?”
“I saw it! Remember Grey Feather declaring that Roman and I could witness one another through our daggers?”
“Sort of,” Marcellious said.
“Well, it works! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I watched the battle through Roman’s eyes and witnessed him dying. Then, Malik appeared.” My words tumbled from my tongue like a rushing river. “He’s got Roman, and we have to find him!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Marcellious said, holding out his palms. “I’ve been thinking about it. This Malik fellow could be anywhere. You know that. Just because he lives in the Catskills doesn’t mean he’s there right now. It’s a long journey to find that he left for Mississippi, Virginia, or some such.”
“We have to take a chance!” I said, seizing his soft deerskin sleeve.
Marcellious shook his head. “I don’t think so. You’re barely healed. We need to give you more time to get better.”
“I don’t want more time! I want to go find Malik! And, if you don’t accompany me, I’ll go alone!” I said, balling up my fists by my side.
“Don’t be stupid. A woman traveling alone in these times would be a disaster. You’d never survive!” He flicked his fingers at me.
