21- Xerondar

Xerondar filled the glass with ice cubes before pouring the Dr. Pepper into it. Over the past few years, he’d become accustomed to drinking his carbonated beverages American-style, with lots of ice. The ice cut down on the sting of the carbonation and kept it cold. Glancing at his watch, he tucked his laptop computer under one arm, held his sandwich between his teeth, and carried his drink outside.

The house he’d bought had a covered front porch large enough for a comfortable wicker arm-chair and a small end table. He plugged his laptop’s AC adapter into the electrical outlet behind his chair to save the battery and settled into the chair. He glanced at his watch. 7:22. He had about forty minutes of free time. He opened up the laptop and turned it on, taking a bite of his sandwich while he waited for it to load his operating system.

Xerondar smiled. The miracle of refrigeration had transformed the way he ate. In his hand he held two slices of bread, a thin layer of mayonnaise, a little squirt of ketchup, and a thick slice of cold leftover meatloaf from his cooking experiment the night before. He’d been teaching himself how to cook the kinds of meals that were common to households in this region of the world. If, after he had Nira with him, she might one day have a sudden craving for meatloaf, he was now fully prepared to make it for her. He took a sip of his drink and opened his internet browser.

First the world news. A bombing in Israel. A shooting in Colombia. These weren’t the kinds of things he really wanted to think about this early in the morning. He sighed. Why was it that bad things were always reported in the news, but good things always seemed to go unrecognized?

Xerondar pulled up a search engine. He typed a name into the search box, then hesitated. This was something he had been thinking about for over a month now. He knew that if he ran a search of this name, there was no going back. He would be found. But he was tired of being alone here, and there weren’t many people he could trust.

He knew he couldn’t get involved with Aterat’s people or Shepetheleh’s people. They would be easy to find, but Nira wanted nothing to do with either of them, and he agreed with that decision. Let them sort things out on their own.

Then of course there were several independents who were neutral, like he and Nira were. But most of them were simply out of the question. Nadina was tied to that sociopath M’boku, so he didn’t want anything to do with her. Finbar had too many of his own problems. Alexei . . . well, no one really knew much about him, but from what Xerondar did know, that guy was pretty badly screwed up. So that left only one person that Xerondar could think of.

He sighed. What was he so afraid of? It was no big deal. He pressed the Enter key and slumped back into his chair. A list of search results populated on his screen. Nothing that concerned him. A few pictures of people he didn’t know. The lyrics to a song. A link to some kid’s school project. Of course he never expected to get any actual results from the search. The point was the search itself.

He set the laptop down on the table beside him and took another bite of his sandwich. What had he done? Had he just endangered them both? No. He wouldn’t think about that now.

He glanced at his watch. Any minute now. He turned toward the street corner, waiting.

Every weekday, after her other two children left for school, the carrier would get dressed, bundle Nira into her stroller, and go for a brisk walk. She was obviously trying to walk off those extra pounds she’d gained during pregnancy.

Since the carrier had started her new exercise routine, Xerondar had started a new morning routine of his own. Every weekday morning around this time, he could be found sitting in this chair on his front porch, harmlessly eating his breakfast and either reading a book or doing something on his laptop. He made sure to always wear something that made him seem completely non-threatening. Today it was a pullover sweatshirt, some flannel pajama pants, and a pair of fuzzy house-slippers. He had also pulled his dark, curly hair back into a tight ponytail and given himself a good, clean shave. He didn’t want to appear scruffy or wild. Just friendly.

Ah, there she was. He saw the stroller rounding the corner, the carrier power-walking behind it. Xerondar took a sip of his drink to wet his throat and pulled the computer back into his lap. Sometimes it was difficult to keep himself from rushing down to the side of the road to greet her.

He waited until she was in front of his own house, then he smiled and waved. "Good morning!" he called out.

"Morning!" the carrier replied with a smile and a nod. The greeting made her slow down a little.

"I could swear that baby of yours gets a little bigger every day!" he commented. The remark about Nira made the carrier look a little nervous, so he flashed a big smile to set her at ease. She smiled back and continued on her walk.

Once they were out of sight, he relaxed back into his chair. It was over. The carrier’s route went in a loop around the neighborhood and ended back at her house without doubling back. She wouldn’t pass by him again. Not until tomorrow. He took another bite of his sandwich. Nira had looked healthy.

He heard a soft ping sound from his computer and looked down. An instant message popped up in the corner of the screen.

Hello, Xerondar. Long time, no see.
Xerondar’s heart skipped a beat. That was a lot faster than he had expected.

That’s a nice house you’ve got there. How’s Texas?

20- Karl

Karl was doing his best not to show his discomfort, but Fortitude had been staring at him for over an hour now. Neither of them had said much of anything since Jacob had gone upstairs to take a shower and change clothes. Honestly, Karl wasn’t sure what to say to her. It wasn’t normal, how slowly she was regaining her memories. According to Jacob, she’d begun her awakening two months ago. Ordinarily, she’d be back to her usual self within a few weeks. He had to wonder if perhaps something had happened to her.

Karl glanced toward the stairs. Jacob was taking his own sweet time up there. Most likely, he was taking the opportunity to go through his entire grooming regimen. Jacob did a lot when he washed– cleansing, exfoliating, toning, conditioning, moisturizing . . . all those extra steps that, from what Karl could tell, really didn’t do much of anything. As for himself, Karl just got in the shower, sudsed up his hair with some shampoo, then used the lather from the shampoo to scrub down the rest of his body, and rinsed it all off. And he never felt like he was any less clean than Jacob was. But all those bottles of fancy soaps and lotions seemed to make Jacob happy, so Karl usually refrained from expressing his personal opinion about it. Besides, he still remembered how horrified Jacob had been when he’d found out that Karl just washed everything with shampoo.

Karl laughed silently at the memory, then turned to look at Fortitude again. She was still staring at him. Perhaps his face reminded her of something? Some memory that was just beginning to return to her, or maybe . . . Or maybe she’d been practically catatonic since she’d arrived, and had been staring at people and objects almost constantly for days now. Karl sighed.

She was most comfortable, and most alert and active, when Jacob was with her. That was understandable. The two of them had a connection that went deeper than mere memory and knowledge. But when Jacob left the room, it was like all the life went out of her and she became this creepy, staring doll. It was unsettling. Jacob insisted that she was okay, that this time was just taking longer than usual, and that she would be herself again soon. Karl and Hespah weren’t so sure. They had both expressed their worries to each other, and when Karl mentioned it to Jacob, he could tell that even though he would never admit it, Jacob was a little frightened by it too.

Fortitude took a breath, as if she were about to say something, but then she stopped, and frowned, and exhaled.

Karl perked up and watched her carefully.

She took another breath and held it. Then, finally, she said, "Hilde."

Karl smiled. This was the first time she’d mentioned her friend since she’d gotten back. "Yes?" he coaxed her, "Do you remember Grushilde?"

She peered at Karl as if trying to make out his features through a heavy fog. "You . . . are Hilde’s."

"Yes," Karl nodded, leaning forward eagerly. This was the longest conversation they’d had since Fortitude had returned. "I am Grushilde’s."

Fortitude’s large, dark green eyes darted around the room. "Where is Hilde?"

Karl hesitated. He wasn’t sure if she would understand this, or if it would just confuse her. "She . . . hasn’t awakened yet. She’ll come here when she’s ready."

"Is she . . ." She squeezed her eyebrows together and bit her lip in concentration. Karl could tell she was formulating a question in her mind, but it seemed to be one that she herself didn’t quite understand. Or perhaps it was that she understood the question but was having trouble comprehending some of the thoughts behind the question. "Is she . . . here?"

Karl blinked. "Here, in this house, you mean?"

"No . . ." Fortitude glanced away for a moment, then looked straight at Karl, her eyes begging him to understand what it was that she wanted to say, but didn’t quite know how to express. "Here . . . alive . . . ?"

Karl smiled knowingly. That was always the hardest concept to accept, when they first awakened. The idea of death and life, and of rebirth. "Yes," he said. "Grushilde is alive, in this world. She’s in Australia, for now. She hasn’t awakened yet."

"Oh."

Karl touched Fortitude’s hand, gently. "Do you understand what we’re talking about?"

"Yes . . . yes. She doesn’t . . . know."

"That’s right. She doesn’t know. Not yet, but she will. Just like you."

Fortitude sighed and looked out the window. "How soon? For her?"

Karl thought about that. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then gave the answer that felt right to him. "Soon. Maybe a year, or maybe two years, I think. Not much more than that." He looked at her. "She’s only about a year younger than you, this time."

Fortitude’s small, colorless lips spread into a calm smile.

Karl heard a door slam upstairs, and a moment later, Jacob appeared at the top of the stairs. "You two been getting reacquainted?" he asked cheerfully. A long shower always left him feeling extra chipper.

Karl grinned. "Actually, Fortitude here was just asking me about Grushilde."

Jacob paused at the foot of the stairs and looked at Fortitude, who met his gaze and smiled brightly. "Is that so?"

19- Tsu Lai

After three hours, the canvas remained blank. He had washed it in a soft golden hue, a good base tint for a painting full of her favorite colors. But beyond preparing the canvas, Tsu Lai had made no progress. He set the brush down and sighed. After his complete failure in Switzerland, Aterat had been furious. He had expected to be beaten, or perhaps locked in a dark cell for a few days. But the penalty she had chosen for him was far worse than anything he had anticipated.

Tsu Lai was banned from her presence. He was free to wander the compound, but he was not permitted to come within range of her sight or hearing for any reason, until she decided otherwise. In addition, he was not allowed to enter any room or corridor which was adjacent to a room or corridor in which she was present, and that included the gardens. It had been months, and still she had not called him, had not sent him any message, had not lifted his punishment. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. It was trying his sanity.

He had done his best. He didn’t know what else he could have done to complete his mission, without risking his own life and hers. She knew this, but Aterat cared only for results, and a failure was a failure.

More than anything, he longed for her forgiveness. He couldn’t stand knowing that she was angry with him, and it was painful to be apart from her for so long.

He had been working hard to please her since his punishment began. He couldn’t approach her or speak to her, so instead he had been creating things for her.

He had torn up an older corner of her garden that had begun to bore her, and had remade it into beautiful grotto, with a shady canopy of flowering vines, a painted wooden swing, a carpet of soft green moss, and a hedge of her favorite bright pink flowers. He had heard that, since he had finished it, Aterat had taken quite a liking to that part of the garden and was frequently found rocking in that wooden swing with a book in her hands. Still, she had not forgiven him.

Since then he had spent each day trying to find new ways to win back his place by her side. He had written her poetry, prepared her favorite foods, arranged splendid bouquets of fresh flowers . . . he had even ordered a custom recreation of a favorite gold bracelet that had been lost in the chaos of a riot during the Sepoy Mutinies. He knew she was pleased by these gifts. He could feel how happy they made her. But even so, she hadn’t yet ended his punishment.

Well, she had always been strong-willed. Beautiful, intelligent, powerful . . . and very proud, and very stubborn. He suspected that she had already decided on a minimum amount of time for this separation, and that no action on his part could persuade her to reduce his sentence. However, so long as he continually pleased her and did nothing to upset her, he was certain that she would not be inclined to extend the period beyond her pre-set minimum. And there was a low, selfish, stubborn part of himself that wanted her to fully regret exacting such a harsh punishment when he had clearly done nothing wrong.

Tsu Lai shook his head and chuckled quietly at himself. Their disagreements always seemed to go this way. She would get angry and chastise him for daring to question her opinions, while he would remain silently indignant and secretly hold on to his belief that it was only her pride that prevented her from seeing that his opinion was, in fact, the correct one. If he stepped outside himself for a moment and tried to look at these situations objectively, it would be clear that both of them were being ridiculous. They deserved each other. Proud, obstinate, completely unyielding. That description could be applied to either of them.

And he knew that she was probably regretting her decision to banish him, even now. They needed each other, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Today he had locked himself in his room with canvas and paint, determined to produce something spectacular that would make her forget her anger and call him to her. It was an ambitious endeavor, and three hours later he still hadn’t formed an adequate image in his mind. All he could think of was how painfully this separation was torturing him.

A soft, cool breeze drifted in through his open window, carrying the scents of the garden and the pond. He moved to the window and looked out over the grounds. Glancing toward the new grotto, he caught a glimpse of the hem of Aterat’s favorite yellow silk skirt following her in. He couldn’t see her through the canopy of vines, and he found himself wishing that he had come to the window just a moment sooner, so that he could have seen her. It filled him with fresh longing. He needed to be by her side.

Suddenly an image began to form in his mind’s eye. Tsu Lai returned to his easel and began mixing blue and gray paint. This punishment couldn’t possibly last forever. Surely she would need him again soon, and she would have to forgive him then.

18- Nadina

". . . sieben, acht, neun, zehn."

"Good," Nadina said, then pointed to the number one again. "Cantonese."

Four-year-old M’boku, who still preferred to be called John, rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and took a deep breath. "Jyut, yee, saam, say, mm, lok, czat, baat, gau, sap."

"Excellent. Your pronunciation is getting much better," Nadina smiled and moved back to the number one. "Portuguese."

M’boku heaved a big sigh. "I want to go plaaay nooow," he whined.

"When we finish our numbers, we can go to the park. Now, say them in Portuguese."

He huffed and hunched his shoulders, then recited, "Um, dois, tres, quatro, cinco, seis, sete, oito, nove, dez. Are we done yet?"

Nadina laughed and mussed up his hair. "Okay. Get your shoes on. But when we get back, we’re practicing our hanzi."

Hooting and shouting, he ran out of the room to find his shoes.

Nadina carefully folded the number board and put it back in its designated place on the shelf, then took down the beginner hanzi flash-cards and arranged them in a neat stack on the table for when they returned. She glanced at her wristwatch. It was just past noon now. She would let him play for four-and-a-half hours, then maybe surprise him with a treat afterward, if he was good. Smoothing down the wrinkles from the front of her shirt, she turned to look out the window.

By law, citizens of the UK may enter Macau without a visa for up to 180 days. However, China is also a member country of Interpol, so Nadina had decided not to risk using the same British passports that they had used to leave England. Fanzou had charged her a ridiculous sum for the new documents, but he had managed to get her not only two Canadian passports, but also a visa that would allow her to stay in Macau for two years, if she so chose. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to know how he had managed that.

For some reason, they’d had no brushes with law enforcement, no close-calls with the police, not even so much as a stalker since they had left Europe. Nadina had no idea why they’d been so lucky for the past several months, but she very much appreciated it. It was as if some guardian angel had been sent to watch over them. So far, Nadina had refrained from trying to figure out who it was. If indeed, someone were helping them, she wasn’t about to scare them off by looking into it too closely. She would express her gratitude when, or if, that person ever came forward.

M’boku ran back into the room, wearing the rather roughed-up pair of velcro sneakers that Nadina had designated as his "playing outside" shoes, and carrying a toy bulldozer under one arm. "READY!"

"Where is your jacket?"

"It’s not cold outside."

"Let’s not argue, my love. It might get cold later, and if you don’t have your jacket, we might have to come home early."

"Okay, I’ll get it!" He put down his bulldozer and sprinted back to his bedroom.

Living in Macau wasn’t as expensive as in some of the other places she’d lived in, so Nadina had been able to get them a comfortable two-bedroom apartment in one of the safer parts of the city, just two blocks away from a small community park. It was the perfect place to hide. They were just two people lost in a densely-populated city with a heavy tourist trade, on the opposite side of the globe from where they had started. And despite her initial doubts, it was turning out to be an excellent place for little M’boku to spend his early childhood.

Of course, she still worried about the effect their prolonged close proximity would have on him. She had decided that when he was old enough, she would send him to a private boarding school. That way he could not only have the best possible education, but also he would be in a safe environment, surrounded by children his own age, and they could avoid the dangers of too much close contact before his awakening. She just hoped that their current situation wouldn’t be enough to cause him any harm. It would only be for a few years.

M’boku ran back out with his red jacket knotted around his head like some sort of makeshift turban, jumped over the toy bulldozer where he’d left it on the floor, and landed in an exaggerated super-hero pose. "Ooookaaay! Let’s gooo!"

Nadina laughed. "You are a silly boy. Alright, off we go." She slipped on her outdoor shoes, folded her sweater over her arm, and grabbed her keys from the hook by the door.

After locking up, she reached down and waited for him to wrap his little hand around two of her fingers before they marched off in the direction of the park. She told herself that holding hands was necessary when walking through the crowded city streets, but she knew that the real reason she always made him do it had more to do with her personal longing for closeness than any kind of pedestrian safety precaution. Soon enough, he would be away at school, and then once he awakened, he would be back to his old self, and she knew they would never be this affectionate again.

17- Jacob

Jacob opened the car door and offered his hand to help Fortitude out. She tentatively placed her hand in his and swung her legs out of the car, but didn’t stand up. She sat on the edge of the seat, staring up at the huge mansion and its majestic surroundings.

"Do you remember this house?" he asked her softly.

She glanced at him, then back at the house. "I . . . think so . . ."

Jacob knitted his brow for only a moment, then smiled warmly at her and gently tugged at her hand. "Don’t worry," he said, "You’ll remember everything soon enough. Come inside– everyone is eager to see you."

Fortitude nodded and stepped out of the car. Jacob smoothed down the back of her skirt and arranged a lock of her wavy, gray-blonde hair so that it fell neatly in front of her shoulder. She was lovely, if a little delicate-looking. Average height and slender, with good posture and graceful arms. Thick waves of dusty, ash-blonde hair framed her heart-shaped face and fell heavily down her back. Her complexion was pale, but with olive undertones, and her small, pouty mouth was colorless and blended in with the rest of her pallid features. She would be considered plain, if not for her large, round, heavily-lidded eyes– dark green, with little gold flecks around the pupil. Last time she had been a robust Armenian with dark curls and dimples. This incarnation looked completely different, but it was still her. She will look amazing in dark green now, he thought to himself as he placed a gentle hand on the small of her back and led her to the front door.

When they reached it, the door flung open and a petite, muscular woman with spiky tomato-red hair and impossibly green eyes grabbed Fortitude by the arm and yanked her over the threshold. "Fucking cold outside," the woman grunted. "Get your asses in the house."

Jacob smiled. "Hespah, I almost didn’t recognize you with that face."

Hespah scowled at him, then turned her attention back to Fortitude. "You hungry?"

Fortitude stared hard at Hespah, obviously trying to place her.

"You won’t recognize her by sight," Jacob told her, "She’s had some work done since you last saw her, but this is Hespah."

Fortitude looked back at Jacob.

"Do you remember Hespah?"

". . . maybe . . ."

Hespah frowned at Fortitude, then glanced at Jacob. Then she shrugged. "Give it a couple days."

"That’s right," Jacob nodded, "Don’t worry, everything will come back to you soon enough." He took off Fortitude’s coat, then placed a hand on her shoulder. "You go with Hespah and get something to eat. I’ll go get our things settled."

He trotted back out to the car and helped the driver pull the luggage out of the trunk. Hefting one Luis Vuitton suitcase in each hand, he marched back into the house and mounted the nearest staircase.

Fortitude’s rooms were a little different from the way they’d been the last time she’d occupied them, but Jacob had done his best to keep her favorite things intact during the remodeling. The bathrooms had been upgraded and they had added a new walk-in closet at Jacob’s behest. The floors had been replaced, the linens were all new, and there was a fresh coat of paint on the walls. Everything else had merely been polished and maintained, waiting for her return. Jacob placed the luggage on the floor in front of the 16^th century teak armoire and glanced around, making sure that everything was perfect. She’ll settle more easily once she’s back in her old rooms, he told himself.

His own bags could wait. Jacob left Fortitude’s suite and tapped on the door across from it. Hearing a muffled response, he opened the door and poked his head in.

"Jacob," Karl called, "Finally. Get over here."

He moved to seat himself on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better. I’m still using a support when I walk, and the doctor says I still need lots of rest, but I should be back to normal in a week or two."

Jacob felt his face heat up. "I’m going to kill him for this," he muttered. "You weren’t his target; he had no reason to do this to you."

Karl chuckled softly. "Well, I was shooting at him at the time."

"Even so . . ." Jacob smiled and smoothed down Karl’s messy hair. Karl hadn’t shaved in a while and his body had gotten thinner since Jacob had left, and his beautiful blue-gray eyes had puffy little bags under them. But he still looked great, somehow. "I’m glad you’re alright."

"And you . . . I’m glad you’re back. Fortitude has finally awakened? What took so long? When you left, you said you already felt it coming. I was expecting you back in a few weeks, but it’s been what . . . eight months?"

Jacob glanced at the door. "This awakening has been progressing a little more slowly than I expected. She still hasn’t quite gotten all of her memories back yet. But being back in this house with everyone should help speed up the process."

Karl nodded. "Where is she now?"

"Hespah dragged her off to raid the kitchen."

Karl laughed. Jacob had missed Karl’s laugh. It just wasn’t the same, hearing it over the phone. After a moment, he groaned and pressed a hand to his stomach. "Still hurts a little when I laugh," he explained.

Jacob looked away and sighed. "I wish I’d been here."

Karl shrugged. "You were with Fortitude. That’s more important."

Jacob nodded. "I’d better get back to her."

"Yeah. We can’t let Hespah corrupt her too much."

Jacob chuckled and stood up. As he was turning toward the door, he felt Karl’s warm hand close around his wrist and he glanced back at him over his shoulder.

"Jacob . . ." Karl’s pale blue-gray eyes caught him with a look that nearly made him forget where he was going. "You were gone too long."

Jacob grinned. "I know," he said, and he turned away to go find Fortitude.