CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ADRIAN AND I went back to the place where we’d first arrived in this realm. It was easy enough to find. We just looked for the clothes hanging from a manna tree. Jasmine, Costa and Brutus joined us about an hour later, and I noted with surprise that they’d loaded tents, food sacks and water jugs onto Brutus’s back. The gargoyle didn’t look like he minded. He probably would have been happier if the fabric from the tents had been draped over his face to block out the sun.
For once, I agreed with him. Normally, I far preferred daylight to darkness, but right now, I longed for the concealing comfort of the dark. Without it, I had to force a smile onto my face as I ate with Costa and Jasmine, not surprised that all the food was vegetarian. The original Eden might have been filled with animals, but the Archon realm equivalents seemed to be animal-free.
After we ate, we pitched our tents: one for me and Adrian, one for Costa and Jasmine and one for Brutus. We gave him the biggest one, and although he wasn’t happy with a meal of grilled vegetables instead of raw meat, he was curled up in his tent and asleep within minutes. If I didn’t know better, I’d even swear I heard Brutus snoring.
I didn’t think either Adrian or I would be able to sleep, but neither of us wanted to continue to make small talk, so we retired to our tent under the pretext of being tired. I’d have to tell Jasmine what I’d decided very soon, yet I couldn’t bring myself to have that conversation now. I told myself delaying it gave Jasmine a chance to relax and enjoy the peace of our surroundings a little longer, but I knew I was only stalling.
I didn’t want to break her heart any more than I’d wanted to break Adrian’s. It seemed no matter what I did, I was hurting someone. All I could comfort myself with was the knowledge that this way, I was hurting fewer people for the right reasons versus hurting far more of them for the wrong ones.
Even still, as expected, I couldn’t sleep, and that was despite Adrian and me making love two more times. My body might be beyond tired, but my mind wouldn’t shut off. I didn’t want to tell him that or he’d insist on staying up with me, so I pretended to sleep. After a while, his deep, even breathing let me know that he’d drifted off. I stayed there, trying to soak in the contentment of being in his arms, but the knowledge that I’d metaphorically flipped the hourglass on our time together eventually drove me out of the tent.
The river wasn’t far. I’d take a quick dip and then try to sleep again. Hey, I’d have to bathe soon anyway. Doing it now meant that I wasn’t disturbing anyone.
I took a new change of clothes with me. Someone had loaned us a long green dress that looked handmade, although the fabrics had probably been supplied by the outside world. After my bath, I dried myself with my old clothes, then put on the green dress. It was knee length and sleeveless, which was comfortable with the warm temperatures. I’d made it halfway back up the hill toward where our tents were located when I noticed someone leaning against the trunk of a nearby manna tree.
I walked over to Zach and sat down. He never did anything by accident, so he must have something to say. But after several minutes, nothing happened except him sitting next to me. Finally, I couldn’t take the silence any longer.
“Archons aren’t supposed to lie, but you told those people I was their savior.” I kept my voice quiet so I didn’t wake Adrian or the others. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
“I did not lie.” Zach’s tone was smooth compared to the edge in mine. “You saved them, so you were their savior.”
“We both know I didn’t do it for them.”
He let out the faintest sniff. “They are free and safe when they used to be trapped and in constant peril. Your motivations are your concern, not theirs.”
“You’re right,” I said with a sigh. “And my motivations are the problem, or at least, they were. Everything I did before, I did because it helped me or the people I loved. Now I want to do the right thing because it’s the right thing.” I paused to give him a lopsided smile. “Sorry it took me my entire life to get to this point.”
His head tilted. “You don’t owe me an apology, and you’re wrong about why I brought you here. You and Adrian believe I did it to shame you into wielding the spearhead if you found it, but I did it to show you that your life does matter, even if you don’t use the final hallowed weapon. Look at all the people you’ve saved, and there are many more who are not here. No matter what happens, Ivy, you have achieved much, and I wanted you to know that.”
I was so touched by his unexpected kindness that it left me speechless. Zach didn’t seem to mind. We sat in silence for several minutes. Again, I found myself wishing it was dark. Then Zach wouldn’t be able to see how I kept swiping at my eyes.
“I’m probably going to fail, aren’t I?” I finally said. “Even if I give it my best, I’m not nearly up to the challenge. Your side really screwed up by making me the last Davidian. Tons of other people could’ve handled this a lot better than me, and they probably wouldn’t have kept saying no first, either.”
“Do you know what Moses said when he was first told that he had been chosen to demand his people’s freedom from Pharaoh?” Unless I was mistaken, I thought a tinge of amusement colored Zach’s tone. “He said that he wasn’t a good speaker, so please send someone else.”
“I don’t remember that,” I said in surprise.
Zach grunted. “Nor do most people. They only remember his successes. Jonah refused his call at first, too, and I could tell you millions of other stories like theirs. The truth is that many who are chosen refuse their destinies when they are first called to them. Some, like Moses and Jonah, obey later, but some never do. Therefore you, Ivy, are not the first, nor will you be the last, to say no to your calling at the onset, then change your mind later.”
I felt better hearing that. It didn’t mean I had any greater chance to succeed, but it helped to know I wasn’t the only one who’d said, Nuh uh! and run in the opposite direction when confronted with a monumental, destiny-altering choice.
“Is that why you gave me the hallowed weapons back?” I asked. “Because you knew that eventually I’d change my mind?”
The smallest smile touched his mouth. “I didn’t give them back to you.”
“Uh, yes, you did,” I said, tapping the braided rope tattoo on my right hand for emphasis.
“No, I didn’t,” he said, his smile fading. “Nor did I take them from you in the first place. Since the day you wielded them, the hallowed weapons have not once left your flesh.”
I stared at him. “That’s not possible.” Then I said it again. “That’s not possible. For weeks, they were gone!”
“From sight only,” he replied, his voice deepening. “Your guilt over forsaking your destiny was so strong, it compelled the images of the weapons to fade. But they were never gone. That is why, when Demetrius was near you, you felt them again.”
“But when I saw him before in the bathroom, I didn’t feel anything,” I said, still swinging between denial and shock.
“He had not crossed over into your realm,” Zach replied. “He was only a reflection in a mirror. Those weapons do not activate by the reflection of a demon. Only one’s presence.”
I didn’t ask how he knew the details of my bathroom encounter with Demetrius. Zach seemed to know everything. I don’t know why I bothered to ever think otherwise.
“The weapons never left me?” This wasn’t me arguing with him; it was me trying to accept the truth.
“No, Ivy.” Zach’s voice was soft. “Even when all your senses were telling you that they had, you were not alone. You have never been alone.”
I had to turn away because I didn’t want him to see the tears that sprang to my eyes. He wasn’t only talking about the presence of the weapons, and we both knew it.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I said, trying to get ahold of myself. I didn’t know why I was crying at the drop of a hat lately. Yes, things had been very stressful, eventful and emotional recently, but come on. I was starting to resemble a leaky faucet.
“Because you wouldn’t have believed me, so you still wouldn’t have seen them.”
I looked back at him. “That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
He gave an oblique shrug. “Some things you need to believe before you can see them.”
“O me of little faith, huh?” I said with a small, self-deprecating laugh.
Zach didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His expression all but screamed Exactly.
Yeah, well, having faith was hard. I believed in a lot of things, mostly because I had no choice due to my firsthand experience. But faith wasn’t just overcoming the hurdle of believing—it was the far more difficult act of trusting, and I still wasn’t there yet.
I didn’t want to get into that with Zach, however. He might be practically all-knowing, but some things—especially this—I’d have to figure out for myself. Instead, I said, “So, am I going to see you again after we leave here?”
“Yes.”
I waited, but he didn’t elaborate or say anything else. As the silence continued, it was obvious that he wasn’t going to. From the faint tilting of his lips, it seemed to amuse him that I was frustrated about that, too.
“Great,” I finally said, my voice edged with false flippancy. “I can’t wait to be surprised when it happens.”
Then Zach did something so unexpected, so shocking, I could only stare at him in complete disbelief.
He laughed.