04 Last (26 page)

“You look like her, you know,” she said.

“Like who?” I asked.

“Your ultimate grandmother,” she replied. “Though you have your father’s eyes. Her eyes were the warmest brown I have ever seen or will likely ever see again.”

“My ultimate grandmother?” I asked. “Isn’t that impossible?”

“A misnomer, of sorts,” the historian agreed. “But it fits for our purposes.”

“You should know that I’m not great with long build-ups,” I said. “I’m kind of impatient.”

“Yes. I noticed that,” the historian said. “I will not waste your time then…In the beginning, our kind, Watchers, as you call them, was not hidden. We were a proud people. We had cities. We had empires. That was before the flood. A small kingdom was ruled by a queen. She had three children by an angelic father. A set of twins and a younger daughter. Two boys and a girl. The boys were set to rule the kingdom jointly, and the girl to be its sword wielder – its protector.”

“A girl protector?” I asked, impressed that a woman had been set as defender of a whole kingdom. “Really?”

“We are Watchers. Gender does not matter as much as aptitude,” she explained.

“Right…” I said.

“The kingdom was peaceful. It was serene. But peace could not last. A prophetess’ life was saved by the brothers. In exchange, the prophet told of a vision she had. She did not think of the implications of telling the truth; she spoke without foresight, ironic for one who sees so far ahead. But she was young…foolish.”

“I’ve heard this part,” I said. “You’re talking about Odette and the vision she shared with Lorian and Darian.”

“Yes,” the historian agreed.

“What does that have to do with my ultimate grandmother?”

“Farrah…” the historian whispered in a voice much different than the one she had used at the beginning of the story. It was one laced with regret. “Farrah was different than her brothers. She took her responsibilities seriously. She was guardian of the throne. She was protector. She loved her brothers, but the prophecy had made war between them. It was tearing up her homeland. People were dying. She was desperate to stop it – her attempts to make peace between them were ignored. They were too focused on power. She finally called on Nemesis to end the fight. Though the bargain was for her life, it was not enough. Lorian and Darian joined forces to capture Nemesis and put her in her prison. What Lorian and Darian did not know – what their selfish fighting did not allow them to see – was that Farrah had fallen in love. The man was a human, normal. The kind of man our kind would have looked down on, even then. But Farrah did not see a human man – she saw someone she loved more than life. She concealed her pregnancy, even from her mother, who refused to take sides in the fight. Days before her deal with Nemesis, she gave birth. Though the man loved his wife, and would have given anything so that she would live, Farrah convinced him to flee the country, with the aid of a friend. Farrah knew the prophecy held new meaning. If the brothers lived and she died in vein, her child would be hunted down and killed. She could not take the risk. If she were successful, her child would be free to come back and rule the country, as was the child’s right. The man and her child were taken to a new country far away. For some reason, the child’s powers were muted. She held a normal life, with only minor psychic awareness. She was as human as her father was.

“The girl grew and had a family. One family gave way to another and so on. The families moved around the world as the years passed. The story of their past was forgotten with time. They became farmers, bakers, people that never stood out, though they maintained a curious psychic ability. Lorian and Darian, who had destroyed their home with the fighting, continued their battle away from the humans, after the deadly outcome of the flood, never knowing that another heir had survived as well. The family finally found their way to the New World. They eventually settled in a rural area…to continue their tradition of farming. Originally known as Michael’s Farmstead, after the family, the area is now known as King’s Cross.”

I looked at her. Then I looked at Daniel. Then I looked her again. I could not think of anything to say. My first thought was skepticism. There was no way my family had that sort of history. There was no way I was related to Lorian and Darian or their sister. I had always assumed I was different because of my father. He was the answer to my oddness. It was easier to blame him for why I different; it was easier than blaming Ellen. I couldn’t believe the historian.

“What’s your angle?” I asked. “Why are you lying to me?”

“Lying?” the historian asked. “Why would I lie?”

“Why would anyone lie?” I asked.

Daniel took my hands and forced me to look at him.

“The historian doesn’t lie,” he told me. “I told you that.”

“Everyone lies.”

“You don’t,” Daniel pointed out.

“Everyone else does,” I said.

“She doesn’t,” he told me.

“Maybe you’re lying. You lie.”

“That was low,” Daniel said. “And doesn’t change anything. Why can’t you believe her?”

I pulled my hands out of his and crossed my arms.

“It means that I’m different because of Ellen.”

“And not your father?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s not Ellen’s fault,” Daniel said.

“Just her history,” I said.

“It is what it is,” Daniel said. “At least you know.”

I shook my head. There were still more questions. Things that didn’t make sense. I turned back to the historian, my combative stance unchanged.

“How come, if it’s my family that is different, others didn’t show the same…powers?” I asked. “How come they didn’t start reading minds at sixteen and inexplicably picking up abilities they can’t control?”

“Your mother was the first Michaels to refuse a calm life – a life as a farmer or baker. She was untamable…the spirit of Farrah was strong with her. She went in search of an exciting life. Then she met your father. He was one of the fallen. What was dormant in your mother was woken in you. There has never been another like you…You are the evolution of our kind.”

“Evolution…” I repeated.

The word sounded so weird coming from a person who had stayed the same for thousands of years.

“I am certain it is difficult to come to grips with the truth. When I discovered my own lineage consisted of thieves and cutthroats I was very distraught,” the historian said. “Your history, though, is noble. Complicated, but noble.”

Her words were reminder that my history was longer than I had ever thought. My grandfather’s book had been the beginning of the truth of my history – her words were the conclusion. All the hints made sense. I could no longer deny the truth. My family was different. My whole world shifted. A part of me that had always questioned why I was different fell away. The questions of the past were answered. The only question I had now was how my past would change the future. It was still a pretty big question.

“So I’m supposed to be the most powerful Watcher to ever live?” I asked.

“The problem with seeing the future is that it keeps changing,” the historian said. “The past is solid. The future is unwritten. Odette is confident in her visions. I am confident only in the past.”

“So…you don’t know if her prophecy is about me?” I asked.

The historian looked between Daniel and me. Her look suggested the truth was more complicated.

“I did not see her vision. But I heard it…once. I cannot see how it meant anyone but you, now that I’ve seen your past.”

“You’re not certain you trust the future Odette has spoken but you are certain I’m the one in the prophecy,” I said. “Do you know what the word ‘consistency’ means?”

Daniel had a more important question.

“You heard the vision? From the source?” Daniel asked.

“Yes,” the historian answered.

“Can you tell us?” Daniel asked.

“There’s not much to tell,” the historian said. “Just what I said. That the last of the Michael line would be the most powerful Watcher in the world. That’s all she said. Even then Odette was enigmatic.”

“Alright…fine…” I said. “We know why I’m a freak. We just don’t know what it means for stopping the vision Daniel had of the end of the world…which is a pretty major thing not to know.”

“Which is why Odette said we would be back,” Daniel said.

“Know-it-all future-tellers are annoying,” I said.

“I would mistrust anything Odette asks of you,” the historian said. “Even a request to see you again.”

“We might not have a choice,” Daniel said. “We don’t know where to go from here. We have the truth…but no clue where to direct that truth. Marcus is a truth we have to face…but we don’t know if there is a greater truth we have to face.”

“I thought we decided Israel?” I asked. “We decided to go there. Why don’t we start with that, instead of trusting Odette with our future?”

“You are going to Israel?” the historian asked.

“It’s where we think Marcus is holed up,” Daniel said.

“It would make sense,” the historian said. “That is where I sent him.”

Daniel and I both stared at the historian. Her words implied she had not only talked to Marcus but the meeting had been amicable. Our faces were enough of a clue for the historian – she knew an explanation was necessary.

“It was the early 30s – of the last century. I was lonely. Marcus sought me out. Instead of killing him – as I should have – I allowed him to pass…He said he had some questions about the past. I answered his questions…”

Her story did not feel complete. I wondered what had made her feel like letting him pass.

“What did you tell him?” I asked.

“He seemed very concerned about the war. He told me he was looking for a way to end it. I explained a time would come when Lorian and Darian would die and the true heir would rise. I didn’t say more, but he pressed me. I told him to go to Israel to search for the clues. I told him, if he was clever, he would discover what I meant…he would discover…you”

“Marcus
is
clever…” Daniel said with a sigh.

“So he knows about me?” I asked. “That I’m descended from Farrah?”

“It would appear so,” Daniel said.

“How did he figure it out?” I asked. “I wasn’t even born yet…my grandfather wasn’t even born yet.”

“It is possible it took him many years to discover the truth,” the historian said.

“Maybe your grandfather’s book holds an explanation,” Daniel suggested.

“What? Do you think Marcus made a confession to my grandfather? I don’t think Marcus is the type to confess such a thing to someone he didn’t intend on killing.”

“No, but we might be able to read between the lines,” Daniel said. “Maybe your grandfather knew something without knowing he knew.”

“Maybe,” I said.

“Might I make a suggestion?” the historian asked.

“Yes, of course,” Daniel said.

“I would like to make amends for telling Marcus about you… I will help Clare gain control of her talent.” Her gaze turned to me. “It is something you want, correct?”

“Yeah, of course,” I said. “But how can you train me to be…less human?”

“Not less human,” the historian said. “But certainly more Watcher.”

“Will that help point us in the right direction?” Daniel asked. “Not to be rude, but we have to operate as if Marcus will be making his move soon.”

“Marcus will wait to make his move, the move you fear” the historian said.

“For what?” I asked.

The historian smiled but did not answer. The smile was strange – I was not sure if it was because she was not certain or because she was very certain.

“Your abilities are growing as you approach your birthday. I believe it is best you learn to master them before then…” the historian said.

“What happens then?” I asked.

The question had been burning in my mind for some time. How would I change on my birthday…or would I change?

“What happens to all Watchers…” the historian said. “You will come in to your birthright.”

“I thought my birthday didn’t mean the same thing as the others…” I said.

“Oh, it means more, much more,” the historian said.

“Thanks for saying that as daunting as possible…” I said.

The historian looked at Daniel and me with a knowing eye – it was a look that suggested she knew exactly what we were thinking. Perhaps she did – perhaps seeing our history had given her an insight into our brains no one else shared.

“I understand you will want to talk about this between yourselves…and the friends you have waiting to hear from you. My offer to give you what knowledge I can stands,” she said.

“If I do get…uh, ‘trained,’ will my friends be able to stay here, too? They won’t want to be left behind,” I said. “They get quite cranky about that.”

The historian nodded once at my question.

“They are welcome to stay in the town, but you two are the only ones who may come in to my home. I do not wish to read everyone’s history…it is a darker burden than you think.”