Ever My Merlin

chapter 6 – GARDEN OF EDEN

A violent downshift of wind caused the airplane to wobble from turbulence. Inside its airy cabin, my eyes snapped open.

“Dorothy.” Vane groaned in my head. “That’s enough. I never wanted you to see that.”

My fingers jerked open and the amulet fell from my hand back into the safety of my pocket. My body shook, but it wasn’t because of the cold, sterile air blasting from the vents above me. I dug fingernails deep into the hard bench of the divan. Never had I pictured such vivid brutality in a dream—no, memory. It was a memory. Just as I’d seen Matt’s when we shared a link, I had to be seeing Vane’s memories. The scenes coated my tongue, leaving a sharp and bitter taste. Their impressions in my mind ran deep, but I sensed they only scratched the surface of a staggering horror. How did he survive it?

How did he retain his sanity?

Well, admittedly, he walked close to the line. Until the trident, though, he was in control. Now, I had no idea what he was.

Dammit. I shouldn’t have let him startle me into dropping the amulet. I wanted to know more… a lot more. Although, I wasn’t sure I could handle the knowledge.

The plane dipped and started descending. We had to be getting close to our destination. I pushed open the plastic shutter of a nearby window just a crack. Darkness with a hint of light colored the sky outside as dawn approached. It was a short flight. Under us, blue water stretched out and I wondered where we were.

Raj asked the question for me. He walked down the aisle, having descended from a visit to the cockpit, and stopped in front of Matt. “The pilot says it will be another twenty minutes. Will you tell me where we’re going? Or should I read the signs at the airport?”

Matt gave a small laugh. “Your friends tell me you know it well. We’ll land in Colombo and take a van to Ella.”

“Ella. Colombo,” Raj repeated. “We’re in Sri Lanka.”

Matt’s head bobbed.

Raj continued, “This week is the Vesak Poya festival. Buddha Day.”

“Rather opportune, wouldn’t you say? It’s the prefect time to visit the hidden caves.”

“That’s where you think the Healing Cup is?”

“It’s my best guess,” Matt replied.

“Good enough for me, Master Merlin,” Raj raised his hand, which glowed with red magic. “I will let you know how it turns out.”

“What?” Matt said.

I threw off the blanket and jumped up. “Matt!”

Raj’s attention shifted to me, eyes widening in surprise. “Sword-bearer. This is a surprise. I am not supposed to harm Merlin, but your death would be worth much.” He extended his hand, palm forward, and sent a stream of magic at me. “Mrayati!”

Matt threw himself in front of him. He absorbed the blast. It glanced off him. Matt tossed what looked like a glass vial at Raj. A puff of red dust exploded in Raj’s face. Raj screamed and clutched his throat before slumping to the floor.

I ran down the narrow aisle to Matt. Grabbing his shoulder, I pulled him down a bit and rose up on tiptoes to peer over him. “Is he dead? Are you all right?” I yanked Matt around to face me and started patting his chest. Raj’s blast had hit him dead-on. I demanded, “What was that?”

Matt caught my hands and held them still. A chain dangled from his neck. The topaz gemstone inside it was shattered. “Just because I have no magic, Ryan, doesn’t mean I’m no longer a wizard.”

I relaxed. “A charm.”

“Better than armor, but only good for one use.” Matt yanked off the chain with one hand and tossed it aside.

“You killed him,” said a mild voice from behind Matt.

He jerked sideways. The flight attendant, a slim man with closely cropped hair and a hooked nose, knelt down to Raj. Wearing a simple navy suit and white dress shirt, he held a handgun in a casual grip.

Matt’s fingers tightened on my arm. “Who are you?”

“SIS. Secret Intelligence Service,” Hooked-Nose said. “I was assigned to watch you.”

“Assigned by who? The Queen—” I started to say.

“Don’t tell him anything, Ryan.” Matt stopped me. I blinked when he held up another vial that seemed to come out of nowhere. He demanded, “What do you know of us, Regular?”

“I know that you have about half-a-million pounds worth of magical amulets and potions in that bag.” Hooked-Nose pointed to a black duffel bag tucked under Matt’s seat.

“Half-a-million,” I repeated. I knew that selling magic was lucrative. Grey’s family had gotten rich off that commodity for centuries. Having never bought the stuff, though, I never knew how much. I frowned. “Did you buy it here? How did Raj not know?”

“The local wizards don’t have enough. Magic may have originated here, but the wizard population is still very low. Every ounce is sold as soon they can make it. I didn’t want to take their supply. I took this from Sylvia in Greece as backup.”

Sylvia. Grey’s mom. My adoptive mother. I muttered, “You brought it this whole way without telling us. More secrets, Merlin?”

“Sometimes discretion is necessary.” Hooked-Nose stood up. “I think introductions are in order. My name is Robin Chaucer. I work under the Foreign Secretary. Her Majesty has contacted the prime minister. The MP was called in regards to the threat we now face.”

“It’s James Bond,” I whispered to Matt.

“Who? Never mind,” Matt replied. “He’s a Regular. We can’t trust him.”

I rolled my eyes. “You sound like Vane. I’m a Regular. Anyway, just call the First Member and we can confirm everything.”

Robin said, “You could, but before you do, you should consider Raj—a wizard of position in this region, difficult to corrupt, yet he was corrupted. The question remains by whom? Who do you trust, Merlin?”

Matt threw a red vial in his face. “Not you.”

Robin’s eyes widened with a surprised look just before the vial exploded in his face. Red powder puffed in the air. He slumped down next to Raj. I gaped at Matt. “What the hell, Merlin?”

“They’re not dead, just asleep,” Matt said.

With a frown, I crossed to Robin and leaned down to check his pulse. It pounded strongly against his neck. I checked Raj’s. His skin, although still warm, felt different. I checked his neck. I couldn’t feel a pulse.

“It’s just a sleeping potion. I threw a little bit too much at Raj.” Matt moved my fingers directly on Raj’s chest and pressed deep. Under the skin, life thrummed.

I sighed in relief and sat back on my haunches. “Why would Raj attack you?”

“Vane—”

“Not everything goes back to him,” I exclaimed.

“He convinced the wizards to follow him once before.”

I stared at him. “Why are you so bent on hating him? Do you know what happened to him after he was forced to leave you?”

“There was no force. He left,” he retorted. Then, his eyes narrowed. “You’re seeing his memories.”

I nodded. “They’re pretty gruesome. He fought in Carthage—”

“You can’t allow the past to affect you. He had a difficult childhood. It happens. So did I. It’s what he’s chosen to do now that terrifies me. He’s bent on power, Ryan. He always will be. His past has made him so, but his current actions can’t be excused because of it.”

“I know that—” I stumbled when the plane sunk, beginning its final descent.

“We should strap in.” Matt grabbed me by the arm and hauled me into a nearby seat. He threw himself into the seat opposite me. His face was tight with a tinge of a sickly glaze to it. He grabbed the sick bag from a side pocket built into the seat and clutched the paper bag like a lifeline. “You shouldn’t have stowed along.”

“You shouldn’t have tried to sneak off.” Wisps of hair hung over my eyes. I blew at them. “We’re in this together. No matter how upset you are at me.”

“I thought we were in it together,” Matt retorted. “You’re incapable of listening, aren’t you? Is it really so hard to understand why I don’t want you along for this? You are tied to Vane. I don’t want him to know what I am doing.”

“Good plan, Merlin.” I stuck out a thumb at the prostrate Robin and Raj. “Seems like the whole keeping it secret thing worked really well.”

Matt’s expression turned grumpy. “Secrets never seem to work well in this century.”

“You might consider updating your philosophy.”

The amber in Matt’s eyes flashed. “Thanks to you, it’s all I have left.”

His words punched me somewhere low. “Not all.”

Matt didn’t reply. After we touched down on a secluded airstrip in Colombo, Sri Lanka, Matt threw more sleeping potions at the two pilots upon landing. We pushed the plane’s aft door open and extended the stowed air stairs. They slid forward on rails and unfolded outward. We avoided the waiting pit crew fairly easily. After a quick exchange of immigration cards and previously completed forms (from the date Matt filled out on the form, I realized he’d been planning this trip since Greece), we exited the airport. Gloomy clouds hovered over the horizon, yet the sight of them finally eased the tension in my shoulders. With some magical inducement, the men in white customs uniforms inspected the questionable items in his bag. I wasn’t keen to be detained in a country where a singular conviction of smuggling resulted in hanging.

Matt pulled me toward a waiting line of taxis. I watched a man in a business suit negotiate a fare with the taxi before accepting the ride, and did the same. I made Matt squeeze into the narrow backseat of a yellow-black, three-wheeled tuk tuk, barely big enough for two. It may have not been the best choice to pick a three-wheeler in the dust and smog of the city, but I’d always wanted to ride one. In the front, where the driver sat on a seat that looked more like a stool, there were no doors. In the backseat, the windows were cutouts without any glass. An unused mileage counter shuddered in the wind as the taxi flew down an open highway.

We sped past white-sand beaches. Hard bits of salty rain peppered us like miniscule bullets. Deep blue ocean and an abundant sprinkling of greenery stretched as far as the eye could see on one side of the taxi (my side). The swaying palm trees attested to the fact that we were traveling the outskirts of a huge island. On the other side (Matt’s side), exhaust fumes and clouds of smog that went hand-in-hand with emerging industrialization were his only view. We passed beachfront hotels. Many appeared recently renovated, still bearing the marks of the 2004 tsunami that devastated the region. People streamed through the streets. Street vendors reopened their shuttered shops as the latest threat of a tsunami abated.

The three-wheeler tuk tuk turned off towards the city center and crossed a small lake in the middle. Men in paddleboats rowed casually along it. Huge Buddhist statues hugged the bridges. However, the soothing sounds of the ocean quickly disappeared under a layer of diesel-induced smog and billboards with squiggly writing. Renovated Colonial forts interspersed with glass high-rise buildings. In a cacophony of honking horns and fast-talking locals, the three-wheeler squeezed into a narrow street and through the heart of a bazaar. Shops and department stores advertised various clothing and crafts in rupee amounts. Then, the smell of rice and colored curries hit my nostrils.

My stomach rumbled. Loudly. “Matt—”

He groaned. “We might miss the train.”

“We’ll get another one.” I lowered my voice. “Anyway, I need to get supplies—”

“We’ll get them later.”

I raised a brow. “In the middle of nowhere? Do you really want to watch me wash my undies every day?”

Matt turned red in the face. I almost laughed, not surprised he was the sort that any mention of the unmentionables would send him into a dither. He scowled at me as if to say he knew what I was pulling, but despite a downpour of rain, he tapped the driver’s shoulder.

“Stop here.”

A lunch of yellow curried vegetables with a hint of coconut, white rice, and a mango smoothie (called a “lassie” by the waiter) later, I made quick work of gathering a few supplies. Mostly. When a shop full of gorgeous patterned sarongs, waving in the wind like banners, beckoned me closer, Matt adroitly pushed me into a yawn-inducing luggage store instead. I got a backpack—a rucksack, as he called it—to haul around with me.

An hour after our impromptu stop, Matt hustled me back into another three-wheeler. It was a short ride under grey skies and industrial-tinged rain to the Colombo Fort train station. The sudden jerk of the rickshaw, to avoid an unmindful pedestrian, jarred me. I was holding a metal pole on the partition that separated the driver from the passengers, but my hand slipped and Matt caught me as I flew back into him. There were no seat belts. Matt’s arm went around my waist to hold me steady. His breath blew warmly against my nape. I grabbed the pole that framed the window and pushed away from him, scooting along the torn pleather seat. He let me go.

But then, he was always letting me go.

Inside the station, Matt managed to get tickets on a departing diesel train for a second-class cabin (only a limited number of trains had first-class cabins)—which meant no air-conditioning during the ride. Inside the train station, beautiful, whitewashed wooden railings and walkways crossed over barren concrete platforms below. Like the rest of the city, old Colonial architecture shone amidst modern industrialized steel.

A khaki-uniformed guard with a long rifle walked in front of me. From passing knowledge, I knew the country had recently ended a thirty-year civil war. The Tamil Tigers, a separatist liberation group in northeast Sri Lanka, continually used suicide-bombers to target civilians, until their defeat by the government in 2009. I was glad we were heading toward the middle of the country, and not the north.

The diesel train pulled forward onto the platform: a long metal snake with stripes of rusty red and blotchy white. Scratches and dents marred its sides, indicating the age of the workhorse engine. Matt and I climbed up steep steps into the railway car. Rows of two seats per side made up the interior. In a few minutes, every seat was filled, and by that time, the train started. A gang of boys in similar short-sleeved, plaid cotton shirts and dark trousers stood at the ends of the compartment just at the exits, presumably poised to jump out if the conductor asked for their tickets.

Once we left the city, the true journey began. Almost immediately, the sights turned rural. The only thing consistent was an on-again, off-again downpour of rain. Sharp ash that caked my nostrils cleared, only to be replaced with the smell of lush foliage. The countryside afforded absolutely stunning sights of verdant fields, colorful flowers, and wet, sloping hillsides. I imagined myself taking a train ride through the Garden of Eden.

We passed farms upon farms, and hills with steps carved into them. There were small villages marked by domed, white temples. Railroad tracks took us across high, Roman-built bridges with arched columns over crisp blue waters. Locals in a mixture of western (shirts and khakis) and traditional (sarongs and saris) clothing chattered with tourists. Merchants passed through the car, offering snacks (very popular) and tea (even more popular).

While I gaped at scenery, Matt studied a guidebook. He bought it at the bazaar in Colombo. It completely captured his interest. A little girl with pigtails, braided and tied at the ends with bright red bows, hung over the seat in front of us. She stared at Matt with huge eyes. I smiled at her and she giggled. Matt glanced at her briefly, then went back to reading his book. The little girl’s lip stuck out in a disappointed pout before she flounced around and sank back into her seat.

I could picture Vane laughing with her. He had a soft spot for children. The young siblings of the other lacrosse players back home had loved Coach Vane. (He always found little jobs on the field for them to do. It worked even better than ice cream.) Shaking my head at the unexpected pang the memory caused, I tugged at Matt’s sleeve. “You’re missing everything.”

“I’m not here to enjoy the landscape, Ryan,” Matt replied without looking up from a guidebook that must have also contained the secrets of the universe.

“Live a little.” We passed yet another towering waterfall nestled in the crevices of a hill.

Matt shrugged. “I prefer to make sure we’re not all dead soon.”

Which, apparently, was my preference. I ground my teeth. “How long are you going to be upset with me?”

“I’m not upset.”

Yeah, right. I asked, “Then what?”

He stared at the guidebook. “My power in Vane’s hands is more than simply not good. It is catastrophic. He’ll use what he learns to stack the odds in his favor.”

“Stack the odds in our favor,” I argued.

“If only I could believe that.”

I sighed. It was not an argument I was going to win, because everything I’d seen in Vane’s memories so far led me to believe Matt was right. Vane only listened to himself. Unlike Matt, though, I was banking on the hunch that the two end goals were one and the same. Then, I spotted the tight lines at the edges of Matt’s lips. He was holding something back. It didn’t surprise me, but again, it hurt and I was tired of feeling hurt.

The train crossed a small town. At its center stood a temple with a giant statute of a chubby-cheeked monkey. Matt’s head jerked up to study the passing statue.

“That’s Hanuman.” Matt flipped through the pages of the guidebook. “It says here—in the epic, Ramayana, the monkey god helped rescue Princess Seetha. King Rawana kidnapped her and took her to his home in ancient Lanka. He hoped to woo her into becoming one of his wives. Prince Rama came to rescue her after Hanuman found her. Rama’s and Rawana’s armies battled across the island until Rama finally defeated the king in battle.”

“Why do I care?” I leaned back against the hard plastic of the seat. A gust of cool wind through the open window made my hair dance. I tamed it as best I could. The temperature dropped as the sun sank lower into the horizon.

“King Rawana was said to be a master of astrology. Supposedly, the creator god, Brahma, gave him the nectar of immortality as a celestial gift.”

“You think he had the Healing Cup—”

Matt put a hand over my mouth and glanced around the train. People continued to chatter on without paying any attention to us.

“Ease up, Merlin.” I pushed his hand away.

“I don’t want to run into another Robin Chaucer.”

“How do you know Robin wouldn’t have helped us? It was Raj who attacked us.”

“He’s a Regular. He’ll only get in the way.”

It was an arrogant statement Vane would have definitely made, and yet, coming from Matt, it left me momentarily speechless. “I’m a Regular.”

“Of course you are,” Matt said in a placating tone. His voice lowered. “Listen, I’m not sure how it’s all connected, except every instinct I have tells me that the answers we seek lie here. Our foundations go back to this region—”

“What do you mean the foundations? How so?”

“The Council theorizes that the Keltoi emerged first in the civilizations of the Indus Valley roughly in 3000 BCE.”

The wizards called themselves Keltoi. It was some kind of ancient name.

Matt continued, “Sects of the Indus people migrated across Mesopotamia, Greece, and up into Western Europe. Among them, us. If you follow the derivation of languages spoken in the region today, you can follow the migration of magi—” With another furtive glance over his shoulder, he lowered his voice. “Our people.”

He raked a hand through brown, shaggy hair. “But more than that, I get the feeling that we’re supposed to be here. That we didn’t wind up in this place… at this time… by coincidence.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Lady knew what would happen once the Fisher King awoke. She knew we’d come to this region to avert the disaster.”

The more I learned of the Lady, the less I liked her. Now, she got credit for my decisions too. “I made us come here. You wanted to go back to England, remember? Anyway, Bran of Pellam took the Healing Cup to Aegae.”

“I’m not so sure. From what I could glean from Lelex, the mermaids beheaded Bran in Aegae. One version of the Fisher King story says as much—that the head of the king came back and was buried, and its magic protected the Island of Britain from marauders thereafter.”

I rolled my eyes. Boy, had they been wrong about that. The Vikings sacked Britain for a hundred or so years after Arthur.

Matt continued, “The point is—the mermaids never had the Cup. Galahad and Perceval must have found it. In the legends, it’s not clear which one got the cup. They were supposed to bring it back to Britannia, but Galahad never returned.”

I blinked. “I thought you sent Galahad after the Cup. Who is Perceval?”

“Actually, three set out after the Fisher King. Perceval, Galahad, and Bors. I didn’t mention it before because it was irrelevant. From what I’ve been able to glean, only one of them seemed to have actually gotten the Cup. Also, Vane and Perceval were close. It happened a long time ago, but I didn’t want to remind Vane of him.”

I stared at him. He’d just made a small admission that he actually cared enough to spare his brother’s feelings. Was I ever going to understand these two? I cleared my throat. “Vane and Perceval?”

“Vane brought Perceval to Camelot with him. Perceval was the youngest son of a noble. He was orphaned and Vane trained him. In turn, Perceval worshipped Vane.” Matt muttered, “Seems he has a thing for orphans.”

That dig was directed at me. I ignored it since I heard an underlying edge to his tone. He’d been jealous. Wow, Merlin jealous. My head swam with the insight. Then, it clicked. “Was Perceval from Carthage?”

“Yes, that is where Vane found him. You’ve seen him in Vane’s memories?”

I nodded.

“As I said, they were close.” He went back to reading the guidebook.

My eyes raked over Matt’s profile. The straight line of his jaw was so similar to Vane’s. Yet, I could never get a good handle on who he was—Matt or Merlin. Matt, I could trust. Merlin, I never had. Matt would save his brother. Would Merlin? After what I’d seen of Vane’s memories, their animosity didn’t make sense. When had it all gone so wrong? At least the brothers felt so strongly about each other once, it gave me hope that they would again.

It also made me wonder if I made a distinction in my head that wasn’t there. Matt or Merlin. Either way, be it Matt and Ryan or Merlin and Ryan, we were at a standoff.

I took the first step. “Matt, I need to tell you something. Vane had a vision about you.”

We pulled up into a train station as the train screeched to a halt. More rain poured over the steel roof of a thin concrete platform. A sign declared the stop to be the city of Kandy. Decorative, twinkling lights and bright lanterns were strung across the platform. At its center, a banner celebrated the upcoming Vesak Poya festival. We were halfway to Ella.

***

Almost four hours later, I sat, annoyed, in the train. So much for taking the first step—I may as well have not said anything. Beside me, Matt flipped through the guidebook. He’d already read twice. I seriously considered chucking it out the window. His reaction to Vane’s vision had been two underwhelming sentences. “It doesn’t change my plans. Believe me, I know what I’m doing.” Then, he turned back to the guidebook and buried his nose in its pages without speaking another word.

Boys, I cursed.

The train took us closer to the mountains in the middle of the island and up into the hills and higher elevation. Outside, the dense foliage resembled a jungle. We passed through a short tunnel, hewn out of rock, and the countryside opened to the sky. Tidy rows of tea bushes layered hillside terraces of a large tea estate. At its center, I spotted a stately white Colonial house.

Matt shut the guidebook and stared out the window in silence.

“No,” I burst out. “I refuse to believe that’s your whole reaction to the vision. There’s more to it. I know it. So do you. So what are you not wanting to say? What are you holding back this time, Merlin?”

He said softly, “I already trusted you once, Ryan.”

And you betrayed me. The unspoken words reverberated in my head, cutting deep into my heart. I took a breath, and let it out. “I can’t change what I did.”

“No, you can’t.”

He was making me crazy. I sighed. “Can you, for one minute, stop feeling sorry for yourself?”

“I might if you’d bother to help me fix what you’ve broken instead of wasting time admiring the countryside.”

I glared at him. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“Why are you? I might deal in half-truths, but at least I haven’t been lying to myself.”

“What does that mean?”

Matt dropped the guidebook on my lap. “It means you can’t have it both ways, Ryan. You can’t believe in Vane and me at the same time. Only one of us is right.”

I didn’t think he was talking about belief.

The train pulled up onto a long platform of another small town. A sign declared it as “Nanu Oya.” More old-fashioned oil lanterns lined the platform's ceilings. Colorful hanging baskets of orchids swayed in the cool breeze of the darkening sky. The train pulled to a screeching halt. I watched as those around us jumped up and began to grab bags from the metal overhead shelves that lined both sides of the compartment.

Matt got up and reached for his bag from the overhead rack. His action treated me to a nice expanse of bare skin. He turned to walk off.

I jumped up. “Matt, this conversation is not over.”

A few tourists watched us with avid eyes as they took their bags and half-dragged themselves away from the unfolding drama. I flushed under the heat of their scrutiny.

Matt grabbed my backpack and held it out to me. “We’re here. This is our stop.”

I blinked. “Th-this isn’t the stop for Ella.”

“I realize that.”

Realization hit me, too. I scowled at him. “You lied to Raj.”

“Of course I did,” Matt said without remorse. “Don’t tell me you’re actually surprised?”

***

Half an hour later, I wondered what the punishment in Sri Lanka was for strangling someone. I hiked uphill, following the bane of my current existence along a muddy trail that squished sticky goo into my brand-new Vans. The tennis shoes managed to survive the mucky streets of Chennai only to be decimated in a hill station full of super-clean, cobblestone walkways. The town boasted Colonial-style bungalow houses with perfectly manicured lawns, a replica of any small village from England. None of which, however, were on the trail Matt wisely chose for us to take... for no other reason than a perverse desire to torture me.

“Nuwara Eliya. Nickname: Little England,” I read from the guidebook and trudged along behind Matt. I flipped the page. “In the central highlands of Ceylon, as Sri Lanka was called during its British occupation, the hill country retreat became a private sanctuary for colonists, civil servants, and tea planters where they engaged in their favorite pastimes of hunting, polo, golf, and cricket.”

I snapped the guidebook shut. “At least it’s not raining.”

The valley below showed off another beautiful waterfall, streaming down between the crevices of a green-carpeted hill, which was lined with neatly manicured hedgerows of tea bushes.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“To the hotel,” Matt answered as he continued up a hill of mostly mud.

I took a few more squishy steps forward. “Why didn’t we take a taxi?”

“We need to save the cash,” he called back.

“Then, why are we staying at a hotel?”

“It’s already paid for, and since I made the arrangements myself, I doubt we’ll be found.”

“You doubt or you’re certain?”

“Do you want a shower?”

I shut up… for about a second. “Are you sure we’re going the right way? There are no signs on this road.”

“It’s a shortcut.”

The sky rumbled with laughter. Trickles of rain sprinkled, tapping a happy dance on my head. I pulled my rain poncho around me, which did nothing for the cold, while debating whether or not to throw the guidebook at the back of Matt’s head. “I’m hungry.”

Matt stopped. He waited for me to catch up and took the guidebook from me. He tucked it into his bag protectively. I made a face. He would save it from a soaking, but not me.

With a small, internal growl, I pushed ahead. We reached the top a few minutes later. The ground leveled and we passed through a barrier of trees. I almost cried at the sight in front of me. Soft rain kissed the slanted roof of a beautiful white plantation house with a wrap-around porch. Painted railings framed small balconies on the second floor, and halogen bulbs spotlighted a garden with a quiet pond. In the middle of an island jungle, I managed to find a slice of Georgia heaven.

“St. Elizabeth’s Hotel,” Matt announced.

“Room service,” I said happily. Despite aching muscles and an unstable muddy path, I practically ran to the hotel’s stone walkway. I tugged off my ruined shoes before rushing into the lobby.

A clerk in a crisp white uniform and thin mustache eyed me with misgiving, but smiled at Matt. “You will be on the second floor. You were fortunate, Master Northe, because of the festival we’ve been completely booked for months.” The clerk’s smile dimmed as he turned to me. His nose angled down at the sight of my dirt-caked khakis and bare feet. “If Memsahib would like, we also have a full-service laundry available.”

I resisted rolling my eyes. “Memsahib would like some tea. Can you bring it to the room? Oh, and a dinner menu.”

The clerk perked up. “We serve a high tea in the evenings with a variety of casseroles, meat pies, and a scrumptious milk cake for dessert. Of course, our restaurant has some wonderful local dishes the chef’s prepared for dinner.”

I perked up too. “Really? What kind of dishes?”

“A blend of Indian and Colonial—”

“Tea sounds perfect.” Matt took my elbow and steered me away. “Send it to our room. We’ll eat there.”

“What’s your rush, Master Northe?” I pulled my arm away from Matt. We crossed the small lobby and bypassed a narrow elevator to go up carpeted, wooden stairs. I lowered my voice and asked, “What’s a memsahib?”

“I think the translation is ‘rich European married woman.’”

“I’m not European,” I sniffed. “And right now, I’m dirt broke.”

“You’re also not married—”

“If you tell me I’m not a woman, I’m going to hit you,” I retorted.

“I haven’t said anything,” he said with a straight face.

I didn’t believe him at all. Rustic wooden tables and oil landscapes lined the long hallway on the second floor. The dark color of the wood made the space seem smaller, and suddenly I became acutely aware that Matt and I were essentially alone. To break the silence, I asked, “Why are we using Vane’s name?”

“I have a credit card in his name he doesn’t know about.”

“What? How?”

Matt shrugged. “Just because I don’t like to use technology doesn’t mean I can’t.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Grey helped you, didn’t he?”

“I don’t reveal my sources,” he deadpanned, stopping so suddenly I almost ran into him. “Does it bother you, Mrs. Northe?”

It did. Worse, it pulled at me. A gut-wrenching smack in the face of what might have been. And here I was—standing in the middle of a strange country with someone who looked so much like Vane. I said softly, “Would you like to be called by your ex-girlfriend’s name?”

“You’re my only ex-girlfriend,” he replied.

The long hallway had run out of room. “We went on two dates, Matt. I don’t think it counts.”

Soulful amber eyes locked on me. “It counts to me.”

“You texted me to break up!”

“I texted you to say I needed some time.”

I moved to enter past him. “It doesn’t matter.”

He caught my elbow and stopped me. “I apologize if my high school speak is off.”

“You wouldn’t have done anything differently.” I faced him. “You would have still chosen the visions.”

“We’ve been over this. The future—our future—depends on them.”

“Not anymore.”

I wasn’t surprised when Matt didn’t reply, although part of me secretly hoped he would. The part of me secretly glad to have this time with Matt. Despite the end of the world looming over the horizon, or maybe because of it, I wanted to find out where we stood with each other.

He started walking. We reached our room in a few steps. Matt used a key—a real iron key, not a keycard—to open the door. I walked past him into the room. The best thing in the grand room was a canopied king-sized bed in the middle of it. A white mosquito net draped the sides of the green fabric bed canopy. Thick, spring-green curtains dressed the sides of the glass-paned windows. In front of the bed, rich red cushions adorned a short divan sofa. Several tartan pillows added to the woodsy Colonial décor. A palm tree swayed just outside.

Matt pulled the curtains closed. “We should sleep soon. We have to be up in four hours.”

I threw my backpack on a low wood table. “Huh?”

“We’re going to climb up Adam’s Peak. It’s going to take an hour by car to get there. The guidebook says to see the sunrise—which is the best part of the climb—you should start at one a.m.”

“We’re going sightseeing?”

“No, we’re going to see a shrine at the top of the mountain while everyone else is distracted.”

The crumb of information was all the explanation I got before Matt picked up the phone and asked the front desk to arrange for a car. With a sigh, I headed to the bathroom for a much needed shower. The bathroom had no lock and a transparent shower curtain. I grimaced, but decided I wanted a shower too much to be overly concerned. A glance in the mirror made me grimace more. Streaks of dirt covered my face and my hair—well, let’s just say that open train windows really miffed the hair-gods, and I found myself with a giant poof of hair that could have trumped any ‘80s Dallas Cowboy cheerleader’s ‘do.

Two minutes after I got into the shower, Matt banged on the door. “Food is here.”

I turned off the mostly cold shower—tropical resorts don’t believe in hot water—and hurriedly got dressed. I pulled on long pajama bottoms—this part of Asia had no concept of shorts (someone might see my ankles and be offended, while bare midriffs on saris produced yawns)—and a long-sleeved top with a tank. I bought the tank separately—an item too shocking to be sold with the pajama set itself. Okay, I sounded bratty, even to myself. I ran my fingers through tangled wet hair and winced as it strained the follicles.

It’s just that—I missed home.

I yanked the door open to find Matt standing outside, one hand lifted in the air, mid-knock. His thin T-shirt stretched over his long, lean chest. A soft rumble of want flickered in his eyes. I must have stared too long because he dropped his arm, mumbling, “Let’s eat.”

I stared after him, my nerves jangling. To my surprise, a small dining table was already set up, the food divided on two plates, and steaming hot cups of tea were poured. Matt sat down. I pulled out my chair and did the same. Vane always waited for me to sit first. Without looking at me, Matt pulled out the same blue guidebook from the train and started reading as he ate. Conversation was not on the menu, it seemed.

I was too hungry to care. I mostly polished off my plate and tea while Matt took small bites of his as he read. Nearly satiated, I paused to chew. “If we have to get up early, should I set an alarm?”

Matt didn’t look up from the guidebook.

I waved a hand in front of his face. “Matt, did you arrange for a wake-up call?”

“Hmm….” He flipped a page on the guidebook, taking a bite.

I put down my fork with a sharp clank. “Are you being annoying on purpose? Because it’s working.”

Matt shut the book and lifted his head to blink at me. He glanced at my finished plate. “The hike up the mountain is long. You should get some sleep. I’ve asked for a wake-up call.”

He was the worst road trip companion. Ever.

I ground my teeth. “Are you going to try to ditch me again while I sleep?”

“I would,” he answered bluntly. “If I didn’t think you would get into more trouble on your own.”

“Thank you. I’m so glad you hold me in such high opinion.” I wiped my mouth with a napkin and threw it down at the table before stomping to the bed. “The sofa’s all yours.”

Matt groaned. “I’m a full head taller than you.”

“Don’t forget to light the repellent,” I said sweetly, pointing to a small plastic burner on the table with a citronella gel pack on top. “The bugs can get nasty.”

“They’re not the only ones,” he muttered.

I climbed onto the large bed, pulling the mosquito net shut. I took off the scratchy pajama top to sleep in the tank. Lying down, I let out a yawn. A hard object jabbed my side. I reached into the pocket of my pajamas and pulled out the Dragon’s Eye still wrapped in its handkerchief.

Matt yanked the mosquito net open, his expression seething. He tried to grab the necklace, but I managed to hold onto it.

“You are not talking to him,” he said with wild eyes. “There is too much at stake.”

He was deranged, I decided. “I was putting the necklace aside so I could sleep.”

He paused, our hands remaining locked in battle. Still, suspicious eyes traveled over me as if he could find some lie in my statement. Then, his brown irises roved on my tank.

My breath hitched.

A flush climbed up to his hairline. “I’ll let you get to sleep.”

He yanked the white net shut. I fell back against the pillow.

The net yanked open again. Brown, shaggy hair fell over his forehead. “Tell me one thing. Why did you do it?”

I inclined my head on the soft pillow and asked, “Do what?”

“Why did you sacrifice me to Vane so easily?”

Every strand of hair on my arms rose at the intensity in his eyes. He gripped the mosquito net so tightly I thought he might rip it. I sank deeper into the bed’s pristine white sheets. “What do you want me to say that I haven’t already, Matt?”

“Say you regret it. Say you’re sorry. Say you feel something. Anything.”

I took in a breath.

“Tell me you haven’t fallen in love with him.”

The breath whooshed out of me. So that was it.

I sat up. I swung my legs off the warm bed and onto cold hardwood floors. I stood up. Desire exuded from his body, but I couldn’t touch him. Hollowness made my bones brittle. We remained a few inches apart, not touching. I said, “Would it make it easier if I was?”

“I don’t know,” he replied hoarsely.

The atmosphere around us seemed to electrify. Two hands slid along either side of my face, cupping it. His fingers tangled in my hair as he crossed them at the base of my nape. Exerting pressure, he turned my face up. In the dim light of the room, shadows danced across his face, obscuring his expression. Hot breath kissed my skin.

He leaned closer and whispered into my ear, “Do you know the one good thing about not having any visions?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” I replied.

I hadn’t thought about it, but I knew. My daughter of Apollo status stopped his visions. It kept us apart for so long, but now the visions were gone. I flexed my fingers. In this moment, everything could change… if he wanted… if I wanted.

His expression set in brooding lines; his lips grazed mine.

I put a hand against his flat chest. Palm down, my fingers splayed against the surprisingly cool fabric of a soft, cotton t-shirt. Lean, warm muscles contracted underneath. Hot and cold, like him. Part of me wanted to curl my fingers into the invitation his body offered. Part of me held onto sanity. “Matt, we’re here to get your powers back.”

For the first time since the funeral, his expression held a hint of uncertainty. “Yes?”

I took a slow breath. It was a question. As in “yes, should I care?”

My nails dug into his T-shirt. I stood on the precipice. Our lips less than an inch away, all I had to do was lean forward one tiny fraction of space. The ends of the white mosquito net rustled in the breeze. My eyes fell on the bed. The ruby gemstone of the Dragon’s Eye glinted against a white bedspread.

Matt followed my gaze to it. His expression hardened. “He’s not here.”

I met his eyes and held it. “You didn’t answer—what do we do if you get your powers back?”

Matt blinked. “It doesn’t matter right now.”

A shaft of air, the same insidious breeze that called my attention to the amulet, chilled my heated skin. Defeat filled me. The answer lay there. I hadn’t wanted to see it, but I couldn’t deny it any longer. Was I just asking for too much?

I hugged myself. “It matters to me, Matt.”

His lips thinned in irritation. “It doesn’t mean that I don’t care.”

“Really?” I forced my gaze off the hard curve of his lips. My heart breaking a little, I asked, “When was the last time you actually smiled at me? A real smile?”

He let out a breath. “Ryan—”

“Think on it, Matt,” I said softly. “And then, tell me you still care.”