One Great Year (49 page)

“How do we start?” Eden asked, with a fresh strength in her determined jaw.

Quinn met her direct gaze and was once more electrified by her indigo aura, thick and compelling, mixing with those near her. She looked much younger than her thirty-six years.

Before he could answer, a very young child spoke out from near the front, her aura glowing indigo and tipped with golden light. “We need to come together,” the girl said, her innocent voice heard clearly across the large gathering.

“Exactly,” replied Marcus, placing a gentle hand on her head.

One by one, some more hesitantly than others, the Emissaries began linking arms.

Quinn embraced Eden, and Nate placed his hand on her shoulder. They were soon joined by others, hand to shoulder from the center out in concentric rings, which from above would have resembled a web. The energy surrounding them grew exponentially as more joined them, one hand to one shoulder at a time.

“I hope it helps,” the tear-choked voice of the Tibetan woman said softly.

“It won't hurt,” someone near her said kindly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Quinn placed his forehead to Eden's and was shocked by what happened next.

Zip! At that point in time, facilitated by the powerful energy of the fellow Emissaries, Theron was catapulted into her memories. It was like being sucked skyward in the vortex of a tornado. She gasped at the vivid, colorful show. Her lives became known to her, and the couple rested their heads together with a filmstrip of many lifetimes rolling between them. Theron saw her heart's true love and she spoke his name.

“Marcus,” she breathed as they entwined their hands, their foreheads touching, their eyes closed, sharing visions that both could see. Everything around them was forgotten as they came together once more.

You remember?
Quinn asked telepathically, in mind pictures. It was his very greatest wish. Not since the brief time in Shambhala had she remembered, and even then it had been fleeting and he had been unable to touch her.

I do! Ohhh, I remember … everything
, she answered, without speaking, as the stories unfolded without any sense of time passing. All of her memories came alive inside her simultaneously, singing like the multitude of angels in heaven. Many tunes played at once but remained clear, beautiful and distinct from one another, and she knew them intimately.

Quinn knew that it was a gift, and he was overcome with gratitude. In an instant she remembered and felt everything that they had ever been.

She saw that Marcus had located her in Prague just before she was shipped to Theresienstadt. She'd been an elderly grandfather, a Jewish doctor, Ivan Petracov. Of course she hadn't recognized Marcus then. He had been unable to save her. It was only after the war that Marcus had found the record of her murder. There was no gravesite; there was only Ivan Petracov's name on a list.

The vortex spun: another life, making love in a ger. Then Inti, the son of a great woman, and Aristotle, and so many more, with and without Marcus. Nate was there too, and Elijah, always swirling and popping in and out. She saw her soul group and understood it as she had never been able to do before. There were others, some of them huddled in the group around her right now.

Lifetime after lifetime, Theron and Marcus were connected. Sadly, they saw their near misses; when they had been close but unaware of each other. There had been hospital beds in the same building but on different floors, and passing on opposite sides of a marketplace on the same day. Their destinies were beautifully bound together, like a tapestry carefully woven with the finest thread, but they had only found one another when it was intended to be.

Eden was filled with love and gratitude. The vortex slowed and, like a plume of ash settling to the ground after a volcanic eruption, Quinn and Eden returned to themselves. Their recollections no longer forgotten, the couple became once again present. Neither spoke, they just held one another, connecting with all of those around them. They had joined and were sending the world compassion.

Everyone present had had the same experience. The gathering of the Emissaries had produced an unexpected result. Zahn hadn't anticipated this. They had awakened to their souls' past lives. As they had joined hands to shoulders and connected together, they were immersed in memory and knowledge.

The cynical French surgeon had seen himself as Joan of Arc and was privy to her every memory and thought. The young girl who had suggested that they pray had seen her lifetime as Mother Teresa. The other Emissaries: Sir Isaac Newton, Louis Pasteur, Charles Dickens, Mirabai, Pythagoras, Sri Yukteswar, Copernicus, Marie Curie, Leonardo da Vinci, Helen Keller, Edgar Cayce, and so many more, famous and not. They were all there, remembered—swirling magically in the energy and communion of the gathering, and joining in the work yet to be done.

The Emissaries could see their auras and recognize one another. Having come together, they understood completely who and what they were. Even the family members of the Crystal Children felt empowered and more than a little overwhelmed.

Grey Elder was unaware of the vibration rising in the prison bunker and was ignorant to their recollections. He had immediately departed with Helghul to the airport, pleased by how easily Marcus and Theron had been manipulated. The most powerful part of the Emissaries still slept, like a bear hibernating for the winter. He would make certain that spring did not come. His plan was unfolding just as intended.

The private jet had been in the air for two hours. Zahn occupied a roomy leather seat across from Elijah, who had not spoken since leaving Torres del Paine.

“You'll have to talk to me eventually. It would be better just to accept that this lifetime is more complicated, so we can move on.”

“Where's my mom?” Elijah snapped, folding his arms across his puny chest. Though the boy was angry and afraid, he was drawn to the Seducer-Producer and had remembered glimpses of past lives with him.

“She's safely contained so we can do what needs to be done,” Zahn replied, popping an olive into his mouth from the decadent platter in front of them. “Help yourself. They're Niçoise, the very best,” he added, chewing while he spoke. Elijah glared at him and looked out the window.

“I'll kill you if you hurt her,” he said, and he meant it. Helghul had begun to emerge in flashes, but the boy remained powerless and intimidated by his captor.

“I don't suggest you try that. I have no intention of hurting her. You and I have so much yet to accomplish.”

“What am I doing here? Why me?” Elijah asked.

“I think you have some idea, but it doesn't matter. You'll remember soon enough.”

“Remember what?”

“That you are special, Helghul. You are the yin to the yang, the King of the Adversaries. With my assistance you will rise up and claim this time for the Great Darkness. Your many lives have led you to this end.”

“I am not what you say,” Elijah countered, but Zahn smiled and munched a thick slice of bread and Brie.

“Have you ever seen yourself … as someone else? Do you have memories that you couldn't have … know things you couldn't know?”

“You know I'm a Crystal Child. My skills are no secret,” Elijah answered.

“You are far more, Helghul,” Zahn assured, and Elijah couldn't help but feel a twinge of self-importance at the comment.

“Why do you call me ‘Helghul'?” he asked.

“It was your name, a very long time ago.”

“So who were
you
?”

Zahn moved from where he was sitting and took the seat next to Elijah. The boy shifted away, but inwardly he was conflicted. His instincts drew him to the man next to him, despite his having been the reason he had been separated from his mother.

“I was called Grey Elder. You and I have always been allies. When you search your memories you will know the truth of our connection. You have had many lifetimes. You can access them if you try, if you haven't already. It will come easier as you get older, but there is no time to waste anymore. You may remember that your mother is Theron—she's safe. I don't want to pit you against your mother, her destiny is her own. You are meant to lead again, as you have always done. There is more going on inside you than you know.”

Elijah suddenly knew that it was all true. He was looking through the eyes of a child but thinking with the mind of a man. His daydreams and his random, strange memories had new meaning for him. “I was happy where I was,” he retorted, renouncing the emergent thoughts.

“But there is a far greater destiny awaiting you. As the Great Year turns, the Bronze Age will ascend. You will lose knowledge, power … we must not let that happen. We can keep the Darkness alive in the world.”

“How?” Elijah asked curiously, his body responding in excitement.

“Chaos, discord, terror—we'll pull the wings off this insect one torturous tug at a time. They'll stare and squirm, wondering who's next, and beg for protection. Watch tomorrow's headlines and you'll see just what
we
are capable of.”

Elijah said nothing but nodded. He had been having so many strange dreams in the past few months. They were full of shameful thoughts that he had been unwilling to share with anyone. Zahn seemed to understand. Were they allies after all? The memories bubbled up, and the dreams and daydreams began to make sense. Elijah reached out to the platter, satisfying his empty belly with a large slice of bread and cheese.

The youngster's mind was a pendulum—one moment he was Elijah, and the next he was Helghul, filled with a thirst for power, and aware of centuries of foggy memories and ambitions.

The project did not officially exist. No information about Nobu could be found in any official document, and, until now, no president had ever needed briefing on the program. Only a small handful of high-ranking uniforms, suits, and lab coats had heard of the Nobu Virus, but when they watched it decimate an entire continent, they recognized it immediately.

The airborne contagion had been accidentally discovered by NASA scientists in the late twentieth century under the frozen wasteland of Antarctica. It had lain dormant, isolated beneath the ice, where it should have remained, ever harmless. Video footage had captured the scientists' jubilation at having found live bacteria under such conditions and later had recorded their horrific fate.

Vastly underestimated, the microorganism's ferocity had not been fully appreciated until two full teams had died. Upon contact, the airborne virus tore through the body like fire upon brittle branches. Despite their masks, gloves, and suits, precautions had not been adequate and the scientists had become infected. The symptoms had begun with excruciating internal pain and ended with vomiting blood. Like acid, the virus attacked the linings of the stomach, throat, and nose, as well as fingernail beds and all soft tissue, rapidly eating its way out of its host.

The loss of the first team was officially blamed on a gas leak, and the second team's loved ones were told their plane had crashed into the ocean. No one could know about Nobu; it was too valuable. Scientists had learned from the losses, and with extreme caution they were able to contain the deadly virus and move it to a top-secret location for further study.

Suddenly, the virus surfaced in Australia. The world observed in horror as the gruesome images were scattered across the Internet and television. Within a few short hours of exposure, the victims' tissue and skin boiled and blistered, liquefied from within by the pitiless germ. As the devastation unfolded, the Internet was flooded with footage as terrified Aussies captured images of the shocking scenes, transmitting to the world and begging for help. The virus spread and the reports slowed. There was no one left to tell the tale. More than one amateur correspondent left his or her video rolling as they were devoured and became bloody, unrecognizable corpses. The audience watched as the victims rotted in eerie silence until their batteries ran out.

A Sydney traffic camera captured the image of a toddler in only a diaper, faltering blindly through the streets, trails of blood from his eyes where tears would have been. No parent nearby, the child stumbled into traffic while cars honked and swerved, their panic-stricken drivers also suffering and afraid. The boy was crushed under a tire as the helpless audience looked on.

The infected prayed for death, and it came quickly. The virus progressed at an unprecedented rate; a large adult was dead in less than six hours from start to finish. The suffering was not prolonged. The disease was absolutely fatal. No human or animal had yet survived exposure.

“That cannot happen here! My God, that poor child! What is it? I'd kill myself before I'd die like that!” people across the globe exclaimed from their offices, living rooms, and shacks.

The Emissaries were unaware in their isolation beneath the soil of Chile.

With Elijah at his side, Zahn watched triumphantly from his opulent Egyptian apartment as millions were wiped out in a single day.

“Oh, this footage! We couldn't have hoped for better footage. I love the technology. It makes it all so much easier! Fear and panic will smother the world and maintain the Great Darkness. They'll come eagerly now, seeking protection and promises,” Zahn gloated.

“You did this?” Elijah asked, both shocked and impressed.

Grey Elder blinked a slight nod.

“Won't it make them all sympathetic and mournful? Pull together, send aid, and all that?” the boy asked. He looked back at the television as though he were watching a movie rather than gruesome reality. Helghul had filled Elijah so completely that he had little time to feel eleven, little time to
feel
at all. He rarely thought about his mother, Eden, the way he once had. However, his mind often wandered to memories of Theron.