Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
I wished I could reassure him. “Honestly?” I replied. “I don’t know why I’m here.”
He relaxed, but only slightly. “Okay, then. Let’s get you cleaned up and figure it out.”
3
FAMILY MATTERS
Ishowered in the guest bathroom, a space so different from my childhood. Gone was the artwork painted by my mother. Crystal palaces, starry nights with thick rolls of smoke creeping in. In their place, generic florals. Granite countertops were now a pale green laminate. Peeling wallpaper dominated walls that would one day feature a mural of a village in Hakeldama. Not that I’d known it at the time.
Though I didn’t want to leave the warmth and comfort of the water, I did. Mom had given me brand-new, still-with-the-tags undergarments, plus a sapphire blue dress she’d said was “made just for you,” as if her mom-instincts had clocked me. At least in part.
I paired the garment with my combat boots. Footwear Jasher had acquired after rescuing me from a band of cannibals eager to dine on my “sweet meat.” A circumstance that felt like it had taken place lifetimes ago rather than days. The shift in time must be wreaking havoc with my perception.
As I braided my damp hair, I vacillated between lamenting and thrilling over what was to come. In minutes, I would converse with my mom and dad and learn more about a future that had taken place in their past. A concept worthy of laughter, sobs, and screams all at once.
If everything occurred as Mom remembered, I would return to Hakeldama. I would meet Ahav, my biological father. Mom and I would be strangers again. I would become Rye the oracle, never her daughter.
I rubbed the dull throb spreading across my sternum. And what about Jasher? He would return too. He’d sensed it, and Mom confirmed it. And that was a relief. I must talk her into giving me that elixir.
A sudden movement behind me. I turned, heart thudding. Um—what was that? Through the mirror’s foggy reflection, I watched as a shadow crept over the bathroom wall. Large and winged with claws tipping its fingers, as if I’d brought the monsters of Hakeldama with me.
Weaponless, I braced to fight and defend. The darkness vanished a moment later.
I exhaled shakily. Not real then. Only a monstra-shaped memory born of trauma. Yes, that must be it.
Once I’d calmed, I squared my shoulders and exited the bathroom. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee welcomed me. Following a low hum of voices, I crossed to the kitchen, where practicality met rustic charm in a sea of warm beiges, soft yellows, and light blues.
There was the oak table where I’d done my homework. Quilted placemats sewn by my grandmother decorated the surface.
Grandma. Here, now, she was alive, only twenty-five miles away.
It took everything in me to resist the urge to visit her.
One of Mom’s landscapes hung on the wall. My ribs constricted. It was a portrait I hadn’t seen in a year, after I sold some of her artwork to pay for barn repairs.
Finally, my gaze fell to my father. He perched at the table, lost in thought, tapping his fingers against his coffee mug. A habit he’d displayed every time he’d quit smoking.
What I wouldn’t give to run over and throw my arms around him. And just how would he react to that?
Mom sat behind the peninsula, perched on a high stool, buttering slices of toast and arranging them on a plate.
A forty-something woman I’d never met stood beside her, whipping together a fruity spread. She possessed bold features but little color in her complexion. White shoulder-length curls. White skin without a freckle or mark. But her eyes, wow. They were the most vibrant shade of purple I’d ever seen.
“Oracle.” My mother released the butter knife and wiped her hands on her apron. “This is Emma. My companion.” She motioned to the other woman.
“I’m a water maiden,” Emma said, watching me, as if to gauge my reaction.
Well, I gave her one. A big, unavoidable cringe. Water maidens were the trickiest tricksters in existence, and their help always cost more than you wished to pay.
“Call me—” Best not to rock the boat and change my name, inviting questions I wasn’t sure how to answer. “Rye.”
Speaking of names, Jasher’s foster mother was also an Emma. But his Emma came from Texas and wasn’t a water maiden. Unless she’d lied to him?
“It’s nice to meet you,” Emma offered with a bright smile. Too bright? “Rye.”
Might as well be blunt. “Did you raise three of Ian’s clones?”
Amusement glittered in those unique eyes. “I did, yes. I am the foster mother of Jasher, Anders, and Reese.”
Shock punched me. “You’re a water maiden…from Texas?”
“I am, yes.” She continued chopping. “We come from everywhere and nowhere.”
That was all she had to say? I probably should have let it go. I didn’t. “If I’m judging time correctly, the boys are under ten right now, and they believe rebels killed you.”