The Fortune Teller

Liliya kept her promise even in the darkest days. Evanoff was consumed with unraveling the mystery of their abilities and he had singled Nettie out. He used various aids—barbiturates, sensory deprivation, electric shock—to force her into hypnotic states. He threatened to hurt the other children if she didn’t cooperate.

Most of the tests occurred in “the chamber,” an electromagnetically sealed, soundproof space. He would lock Nettie inside for hours, sometimes days. Her only respite was when he would go on trips for stretches at a time—to where, she didn’t know.

Beyond the monastery’s walls, battles raged across the Eastern Front as war consumed the country. Nettie stayed locked inside Evanoff’s madness up until the end.

Out of any country in Europe, Czechoslovakia was the most advanced in researching the paranormal, like ESP and clairvoyance, and integrating it into their military operations. They had separated psychic phenomenon from the occult and designated “psi” experiences as part of accepted science.

Evanoff was driven by a maniacal desire to take command of the Czech research facilities. He traveled to the Ukrainian front to be there when Russia liberated Czechoslovakia from the Germans and brought his most promising psychics, including Nettie and Liliya, along with him.

*

Nettie had imagined the moment a thousand times, seen the events unfold like fractals coming into the sharpest focus. She had shared her vision with Liliya many nights during their imprisonment. Knowing this day would arrive was the only reason they had survived their time at Makaryev, the only reason they had survived what had been done to them.

The caravan of trucks was deep in the forest making its way westward toward Prague when the explosions occurred.

They were only a mile from the offensive front. The soldiers pulled their trucks over and climbed onto the hoods to look out over the valley. Nettie and Liliya sat in the bed of a covered truck, the last in the convoy. Lev, their guard, jumped out to join the others.

Liliya stared at Nettie, terrified. “When do we go?” she whispered.

“Wait,” Nettie said, her eyes closed, counting the seconds. Minutes passed. Finally she heard a cannon sound far off in the distance. “Now,” she whispered, and the two girls climbed out of the truck as quietly as possible.

They were almost to the trees when Lev turned around.

“Stop or I’ll shoot,” he ordered. But he had not yelled loud enough to alert the others.

Nettie turned to face him without flinching. Lev had witnessed Evanoff’s atrocities. Every day he had escorted her from the children’s room to those malevolent doors. Nettie had gotten to know all her captors at Makaryev, and Lev was the only one she was sure would seek absolution for his crimes.

Nettie and Liliya only had moments before another soldier would discover them. Nettie stared into his eyes and said, “When you die, the only memory from the war that will give your soul any kind of peace is the knowledge that you helped us on this day. You will never speak about Makaryev to your wife or children. You will die an old man with a clear mind. You will carry the screams, the fear, the darkness, as we will.”

Every word echoed like a hammer. Lev listened, his eyes bright.

“Now let us live,” she commanded.

Lev said nothing. He turned his back and climbed inside the truck. Nettie and Liliya ran toward the tree line, empowered, knowing that freedom was on the other side.

When they reached the trees, the leaves kicked up under their feet and the forest enveloped them. They kept running long after the sounds of the soldiers had faded. They stopped when they found a small stream and finally rested, heaving with exhaustion as they drank their fill. Nettie began to shiver, succumbing to the shock of their escape. The two girls gripped each other tight and held one another as they cried. They had just done the impossible.





Judgement

Semele set the pages down in disbelief. She hadn’t finished reading yet, but she had realized something so shocking she couldn’t continue. She walked to the main room and caught Theo pacing.

“Liliya was your grandmother,” she said.

His eyes filled with immense relief that she finally understood.

“But how?” Semele asked weakly, sitting down on the couch. “How did you get this manuscript?”

Theo sat beside her and tried to explain. “Right after the Gulf War, antiquities began to make their way out of Iraq—a lot of them,” he stressed. “Museums and libraries were looted. When my grandmother heard that a manuscript about an ancient deck of cards had been taken from Baghdad to Jordan, she had her buyer make an anonymous offer. My family paid a fortune.”

Semele was well aware of the ongoing looting in the Middle East. Countless manuscripts and artifacts had found their way to New York, London, Moscow, and Rome. Most were sold discreetly. The trade in stolen items was the ugly underbelly of her industry, but to her knowledge, Kairos had always avoided handling questionable works. “Then she translated it?”

“No.” Theo shook his head. “She waited.”

Semele frowned, not understanding. “For what?”

“For me.”

It took her a moment to realize what he was saying. “You translated the manuscript?”

He nodded. “Nettie told her I would.”

Semele remembered Ionna’s story. Nettie had told Liliya her future. Nettie had also told her tormentor, Evanoff, countless secrets while she was drugged. Liliya would have heard all of them. Her conscious mind had been with them in the room.

“Nettie foresaw that Ionna’s manuscript would find its way to Liliya,” he said.

“So Liliya knew she should look for it,” Semele finished. The thought made her head spin. Where did the thread begin and where did it end?

“My grandmother was adamant that I learn Greek, and my parents supported the idea. I thought they were all mad collectors, that they were trying to turn me into one of them. I hated the lessons. You should have heard the arguments—and the bribes.” He smiled, remembering. “My grandmother gave me the manuscript when her health was failing. When I finished the translation, I finally understood. The story was my grandmother’s story too. She read my translation days before she died.”

The look in his eyes made Semele’s breath catch.

“Nettie saved my grandmother’s life. My grandmother made a vow to Nettie that she would safeguard the manuscript until her heir could claim it.…” His eyes would not let go of her. “You.”

Semele couldn’t find the words. What he was saying was too much.

“My grandmother made us promise we would do everything in our power to deliver the manuscript safely to your hands. But I didn’t know who you were, where you were. All I knew was your first name. When my father died he had already chosen a firm to handle the collection. Our estate attorney showed me the details. That’s when I saw your name. I realized my father had found you.”

Semele felt goose bumps traveling down her arms. For the first time she could see the Bossards and what they meant to her family clearly. Theo Bossard was the ally she hadn’t known existed.

“I’ve waited years to meet you, Semele.”

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