I nodded.
"Wonderful! Then, why did you not accomplish your task?"
"It was being guarded," I said.
"But you had my sword," he declared.
"And now you do not. Did you lose it in battle?"
"Yeah, something like that."
"Did you encounter Adeipho?"
"That's who took the sword."
I sensed him cringe, ever so slightly.
"And yet you escaped. I do not understand that. Adeipho is unforgiving."
I didn't know how much Damon knew about Ree and my connection with her so I had to be careful.
"He didn't want to let me go. It was
Ree's
choice."
"Ah, yes. Marshall's mother. The Guardian of the Rift." So much for being careful. He knew all the players.
"What do you need me for anyway?" I asked. "You've
got more of those spirit-killing swords. Why don't you just
fight for the Rift yourself?"
"Nothing would please me more, but the crucible is preventing me from entering that vision. That is why I need it destroyed. Will you make another attempt?"
I didn't answer right away because I didn't know what I wanted to do.
"You have doubts," he said knowingly. "I am not surprised. I can only imagine what Adeipho told you about me."
"Not a lot of good things," I admitted.
"Adeipho is a weak pawn. The true power was held by
Alexander. But he died before he could ensure I would take my rightful place and command his army."
He said this as he looked up at the statue of the warrior in the fountain.
"That's him?" I said. "Alexander the Great?"
Damon snickered. "A title that was bestowed long after his death."
"And you think you were going to take his place?"
"I would have!" Damon snapped. "If not for Adeipho's treachery! What did they tell you? That I was dangerous? That they feared what I would do once I commanded Alexander's army?"
"Pretty much," I said.
"Cowards! I followed Alexander's every campaign, destroying the remains of the opposition, ensuring that his victories were complete."
"Killing prisoners," I said.
"Enemies!" he shot back. "The history of Alexander speaks only of his glorious victories. The triumphant marches. The expansion of an empire. There is no mention of those who destroyed any possibility of counterattack or reprisal."
"So you think by killing unarmed prisoners you were responsible for Alexander's success?"
"My army also fought many a battle," he said defensively.
"Yeah, I heard you were pretty smart about tactics and all." Damon smiled. He liked that.
I added, "But you never actually led your men into battle yourself. Why was that?"
His smile fell fast. I'd hit a sore spot. He dropped to a knee in front of me and pointed to his face.
"Where do you believe these scars came from? Executing innocent prisoners? I fought valiantly in Alexander's name."
"You said Adeipho's men did that."
That threw Damon. It was like I had caught him in a lie.
"There were many battles," he said, recovering quickly. "This is what my loyalty to Alexander brought me and yet I have been cast as a coward."
"So what? It's done. Nobody cares about what happened two thousand years ago."
"Two thousand years or two minutes," Damon exclaimed. "The spirits of the past still exist. My enemies still exist. I can still take what was rightfully mine."
"What does that mean? You want to get back to the Light so you can keep on killing? Why? To prove you weren't a coward? Maybe you want to eat a couple more hearts while you're at it? You're just . . . sick."
Damon stiffened and stood up.
"And who are you?" he said, sounding all superior.
"A privileged boy. A petty thief. You have no right to judge me."
"Absolutely. I'm nobody. But at least I know right from wrong."
"And where did you come by that wisdom? From your difficult life? From the struggle to survive? From the fear of being slaughtered by invading armies?" Damon spat on the ground in disgust. "You are a naive, pampered child."
"I lived in a different time."
"And who taught you the righteous path? Right from wrong? Good from evil? Perhaps your elders? Those you respect?"
"That's pretty much how it works."
Damon smiled. It made the hair stand up on my neck. I never knew where this guy was coming from. One minute he was angry, the next he was giddy, then a second later he was in total control as if he held all the cards.
"Every story has two sides," he said. "Do not make judgments until you learn them both."
"I think I know all I need to know about you," I shot back.
"You see the world as a place ruled by noble goals and high standards. Well, let me educate you. The world is not as noble a place as you believe it to be."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.
Damon leaned down, grabbed my arm, and pulled me to my feet.
He said, "Forgive me for destroying your naive illusions."
I saw the swirling colored lights appear over his shoulder as he yanked me forward, stepped out of the way, and flung me into the fog. I stumbled, tripped, and landed on my knees in another vision. Looking up, I saw the mailbox with the word "Brady" painted on the side. It took me a second to realize that Damon had flung me into Maggie's vision.
I was sitting in front of the house next door to hers. The house that would one day become Gramps' home. There was no mistake that it was her vision and not my grandfather's. The gray sky and barren trees were a dead giveaway.
Why had Damon sent me there? What was he trying to show me?
I stood up, brushed myself off, and was about to look for Maggie when I caught sight of somebody running around the side of her barn. I only caught a quick glimpse but I knew it was the same little girl that had been dodging around the barn when I'd visited there before.
Was this what Damon wanted me to see? I decided it was time for me to find out who this kid was so I took off sprinting for the barn, trying not
to make any noise for fear it would warn the kid that I was after her. I circled the barn from the opposite side, thinking I would head her off. When
I reached the back side, I stopped and cautiously peered around the corner to see . . . the kid wasn't there. She'd disappeared again. I noticed a small, ramshackle
toolshed
that was built right up against the barn. Either the girl had magically disappeared or she was inside that shed. I ran to the structure, grabbed the door handle, and yanked it open.
"Ah!" the girl screamed, and cowered into a corner of the hut.
The girl looked to be around eight years old, so I was twice her size. She wore a short cloth coat over a long white nightgown that was covered with black streaks as if she had been doing some dirty work.
"Come on out," I ordered.
The kid kept her eyes on the ground and shuffled to the door so I backed off to let her out. As soon as she stepped out of the hut, she tried to take off running but didn't get more than half a step before I grabbed her jacket.
"Whoa, I don't think so," I warned.
The girl whipped around and I saw the fear in her eyes.
"Leave me alone!" she yelled. When she focused on me, her fear turned to a look of surprise, as if I wasn't at all what she expected. "You aren't the sheriff."
"I didn't say I was. Who are you?"
"I live next door," she answered defiantly.
I didn't intimidate her, which made me wonder why she was so scared in the first place.
"Well, I'm a friend of Maggie's. Why are you sneaking around her barn?"
She shrugged. Whatever she was up to, she didn't want to fess up.
"Do you know what happened to her parents?" I asked. "Course I do," she said, keeping her eyes on the ground. "It was just last night."
That threw me, but it made sense. Maggie's vision was
fixed on the day after her father and mother were killed in the fire. Question was, why was this little girl hanging out in Maggie's vision?
"So why are you sneaking around here?" I asked.
There was definitely something on her mind that she didn't want to share.
"Just tell me the truth," I said. "It's okay."
"I'm looking for another way out of the barn," she finally said. "There can't be just one door."
"Why not? It's a barn."
"But there has to be another way out," she insisted. "I just haven't found it. They could have gotten out. They didn't have to die."
"Maybe. But what good would it do to find it now?"
The girl bit her lip and shrugged. I thought we were done, but then she plopped down on the grass and wept as if it were her own parents that had died in the barn. I figured the poor girl was traumatized by what had happened. Having your neighbors killed in a fire was pretty horrible so I sat down next to her to offer whatever help I could.
"It was an accident," I said. "Maggie went back to unlock the lock. She didn't mean to trap her father inside."
The girl's cry turned to a sob as she whispered, "I know . . . but Brady did."
I wasn't sure if I'd heard her right. "What did you say?" I asked.
"But he didn't want them to die. It was an accident."
Blood rushed to my head. It took every bit of willpower I had to stop myself from grabbing the girl and shaking her until she told me what she knew. I forced myself to speak calmly as if what she was saying was no big deal.
"Who's Brady?"
"My brother."
"Isn't Brady your last name?"
"Yeah, but that's what everybody called him."
"Tell me what happened. Exactly."
The girl thought for a second, then started talking. Once she got going, she didn't stop. It was like the story had been bottled up for a very long time and it finally exploded out of her.
"Maggie's father was always yelling at her," she began. "Brady hated it. He was sweet on Maggie, though he never admitted it. Maggie was real nice to him. To both of us. She made us cookies every Friday. Has she made you cookies?"
"No. What happened that night?" I asked, trying to keep her focused.
"Whenever old man Salinger started hollering on Maggie, Brady got upset. That night was the worst. We heard it from all the way back to our house. Brady couldn't stand it. He took off and I knew exactly where he was going."
"Where?"
She pointed to the shed she'd been hiding in. "There's a couple of loose boards in there. Nobody
knew about it. We could spy inside the barn and no one was the wiser. I followed Brady and found him inside watching the two of them going at it. Maggie was just as angry as her father and she was giving it back to him real good . . . until he hit her. I never saw anything like that. It was horrible. Maggie ran out and slammed the door in his face."
"And put the lock on," I said.
She nodded and continued, "Brady was fit to be tied. He ran out of the shed and I went with him. If old man Salinger had come out after Maggie, Brady would have jumped him for sure. But the old man stayed inside. The two of us saw Maggie put the lock on the door and go back to her house. But then . . ."
The girl sobbed as if the memory pained her.
"What happened?" I coaxed.
"She changed her mind. She got halfway to her house, then came back and unlocked it."
"So Maggie
did
unlock it?"
The girl nodded. "I guess she didn't want to make him any angrier than he already was. But that didn't stop Brady."
I sat bolt upright. "Wait . . . what? What did he do?"
"As soon as Maggie went inside the house, Brady snuck to the door and locked it himself. I told him not to but he said he didn't want Salinger to bother her anymore."
"So your brother locked the lock? Not Maggie?" I said, trying to hold back my excitement.
"But it wasn't his fault they died!" she exclaimed.
"Of course not. There was no way he could have known there was going to be a fire."
The girl sobbed even harder.
"It's okay," I said feebly. "It wasn't his fault."
"I know!" she cried. "It was mine!"
I sat there with my mouth hanging open.
She went on, "It was me who brought the lantern down to the shed, and left it there when we ran out. After Brady locked the door, I got scared and ran back to the house. I forgot all about the lantern . . . until the fire. I didn't mean for them to die. It was a stupid mistake. I never told nobody. My whole life. I was too scared. Now I'm stuck here in the Black, a little girl again, still not able to make up for what I did."
I was in shock, but managed to say, "Or maybe you just did."