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CHAPTER 1
Running for One’s Life
It was near dawn and Coventry ran for her life. Angel ran next to her by the property wall; they were almost to the gate when Seamus appeared out of nowhere and he threw a set of knives.
“Ahhhh, run Coventry!” said Angel as she held a hand to her bloody face. Seamus’s knife had sliced into Angel’s cheek when it passed near her face.
“Yang, come, Coventry is escaping,” shouted Seamus. From the side door, Yang emerged in pants and shoes, with no shirt on.
She ran as fast as she could. Seamus had thrown several more knives, one of which had wedged in Coventry’s left arm. He followed, running with Yang not far behind. She ran as fast as she could: legs hurting, branches swatting her body, arms, and calves as she passed thick vegetation. The trees and bushes seemed alive as they kept getting in her way.
“Stop you bitch, I am going to kill you this time for sure!” Seamus’s words sounded so close. Trees, branches, bushes—all hitting Coventry’s face. Blood was running down her arm, and Coventry pulled out a knife as she ran.
“Ahhhhh,” she screamed, when the pain shot all the way up to the shoulder of the same arm Seamus had dislocated the night of their marriage. Coventry could only hear the rush of her steps on the ground when Yang used the voice to make his calling.
“Coventry, stop,” called Yang.
Yang’s newly acquired magic had the desired effect. She felt her steps falter, and then she felt a hand caress her neck and then tighten. No air. Captured! Torture. A life without hope, of ever seeing freedom.
“Take the fire powder, and light them up.” A strong voice came from nowhere.
“Or use the fire powder on the vegetation. Escape. Live!” a commanding voice said, with power.
Yang bellowed, “STOP!” She had to yield to him; his magic compelled her to obey. So, she stopped. Seamus and Yang found her and she lit their surroundings on fire.
Coventry chose to live.
And as the fire ignited, she stumbled and fell down a hill again. She went tumbling and hit every bush and rock that was in her path. Her coat came off and her gown tore in various areas of her body. She stopped inches from the only clifftop near her home. Looking up at the brightest of mornings, she witnessed a beautiful dawn, a mockery of her predicament. Hands trembling, tears coursing down her cheeks and ending at her chin. Sweat covered her entire body and her heart was pounding, but she was alive.
“Thank you, Lord of all Creation, for my moment of courage. I am alive. I need you, Mother. I must get up. I must run,” said Coventry.
Noise—Seamus was nearby. His evil presence made the forest darken.
“This spawn-from-hell don’t wanna die,” shouted Seamus. Coventry reached into the pocket of what was left of her skirt with the arm and hand she could still move. It had holes everywhere and the pockets were shredded too. She tried to find something to use against them—something, anything, but she’d used all the fire powder. She almost berated herself for being a fool. Now she remembered Angel had given her back most of the precious gifts just before her escape.
Coventry found the Box of the Chosen. She had hidden the box in the high seam of her boot. Her father had given the box to young Coventry for safekeeping when she was ten and she had kept it ever since. Her grandfather gave her a ring that he called the Ring of the Chosen. The ring would shine green whenever she used her Gift.
“Coventry, where are you? Witch, come out, now. I am not done with you. Give me back my Gift and I will let you live as you like. Yang will never know,” said Seamus.
Coventry knew he was lying; he was going to kill her. Then she heard only silence. She tried to hear where he was, but all she could hear was her own heart. Coventry knew she would not die at the hands of Seamus. Coventry removed the box from her boot pocket, held it close to her heart and said a quick prayer to her g-d for her protection.
“Oh, Creator of all, merciful one, look at me on this day. I am one of your Gifted with a Vessel to serve you and your creation. If is in your plan for me to live, please, grant me life. But if I am to die; please my Lord, consider your servant. I have served you faithfully all my life. For my life, I offer you the best of me.
Whatever you want, it will be yours. Grant me life to see Quetza free, and I’ll give you the best of my hands, the best of me. I’ll give you my life and the life of all that is mine. Help me escape this evil, I need to live to make things right for Quetza.” As her prayer left her lips, all went dark, then a flash of light surrounded her.
The morning rays had vanished, and she was falling … then thrown down onto a hard, metallic box. Later she found out it was called a dumpster. She landed on the dumpster behind a building, rolled off, and hit the hard ground. She had dropped from the sky, like falling from bed after a bad nightmare. Once on the ground, she crawled like a helpless toddler looking for a small hiding place, a safe place. Coventry gave in to exhaustion. It was night. It was hot. It was a desert, but she was alive.
Alive only by an ounce of the energy from her Vessel.
“All these stupid teenagers and their pranks. I’ll give them April’s fools,” said a man.
“Just have Carlos close the diner tomorrow,” said the I of a woman.
“I’m too old for this. I’m the owner of this place. I should not be throwing out the trash. What the hell is that?” demanded a tall, balding man.
“Stop talking to yourself and come close the diner,” said the woman, who was holding a basket.
“Emma, come look. This is one weird-looking roadkill. A coyote must’ve dragged it near the dumpster,” said the man. The woman walked to where the man was standing.
“No look, that’s no roadkill. That’s a girl. Look at her eyes, they are yellow. The poor thing is all bruised, cut, and bloodied. No dear, don’t try to hide. Tony, go get ’er. She has a knife wedge on her arm, look. We must help ‘er,” said the woman.
Coventry could not understand what they said, but those were the words she heard. She took a deep breath, prepared for anything.
The man picked her up in his arms and carried her to the couple’s rooms upstairs the building they came out from and the woman had closed.
“This little woman weights near nothing. Whoever hated her enough to hurt her should go to jail,” said the man called Tony. The man placed her on a sofa. The house smelled like fresh baked bread. Coventry saw they had little in their room. His woman, Emma, went running to another room and came back with a box. She took out some liquid and began to clean Coventry’s many cuts and bandaged her up. Coventry relaxed a little once she saw the pair meant her no harm.
Pain and heat coursed through her body, and then she saw a thing that rotated by itself and created wind and made the room cooler. So much heat, blood, broken ribs, a knife still wedged in her arm. The man Tony pulled the knife from her arm.
“Aaahhh,” shouted Coventry.
Pain and a feeling of liquid falling down her arm, more blood. He made a tourniquet. Coventry wanted a healer, a bath, and some sleep. She fell asleep, but she woke in a startle when some people she assumed were healers were checking her injuries.
They wanted to take her away. They all spoke in a language she could not understand then. At the time their meaning wasn’t clear.
“Utzi nazazu. Ez nazazu ikutu.” Coventry told them to leave her and not touch her. She spoke in her ancient language—maybe they would understand her, but they did not.
She screamed when they tried to take her away and cowered behind Emma. Emma talked to them and after a few minutes the men closed Coventry’s stab wound, bandaged her ribs, and left. The woman finished caring for her wounds. More pain, but she cleansed Coventry’s face.
When the men left, she sat on the sofa. She worked out that the man was called Tony, the woman, Emma, and he seemed to agree to let her stay with them. The days after were a blur, but she got better. Tony and Emma took turns to help Coventry get up and walk around. Emma got her on her feet. She showed Coventry how to use the cleansing room, and the language.
When she got better, Tony gave her a job in his diner. Emma also gave her some clothing.
She slept in a small space they had over what they called Tony’s garage. In the middle of nowhere in a desert, in the midst of a humble and loving couple, Coventry regained her life.
CHAPTER 2
Route 40, New Mexico, USA
Earth
Coventry Laine’s Diary
April 24, 1974
I live in a small room with a bed, and a small cleansing room. It also has a small kitchen and a table with one chair, nothing else, but it is clean. For the moment, this job is helping me stay hidden. Although, I need to work harder to communicate. I can make some coin to live on. They call it money in this place. However, I must plan my next move. What little I can gather from Tony and Emma is that they think I am running from bad people. Which is not far from the truth. I think Emma may be asking which kingdom I am from and about the people that stole me. I have no idea what to say or how to say it. For now, all I know is that this place has become home. I can’t go back; I don’t know how to go back. In any case, I must stay away from Quetza, for now at least.
May 20, 1974
I am not with child. I was afraid I might have ended up with the offspring of Seamus or worse, my brother, after that awful wedding night. I am afraid of Yang and Seamus. They appear in my dreams. Yang has this new magic that makes my skin crawl. I know he got it from the Witch Beckon—he gets all his magic that way. However, there are worse evils in Quetza than the Witch Beckon.
I believe my brother could find me if I stay in one place for too long, especially if my emotions are not under control. Maybe he could even find me here. My Gift is strong in this place and my Vessel fills without any effort from the happiness around me, but there is also much hate and pride everywhere I look. There is a strange communion I can feel between the people. They feed from each other’s energy. It is as though they are all connected to one another. I must be among them, but care will be necessary to avoid blocking my Vessel—or worse, filling it with hate—otherwise my Gift will not work. And I need my Gift to protect myself and eventually return home … once I figure out how to return home.
My generation was doomed with an unwilling Stone-Magi Gift-Vessel and no Companions. It is not right that the empire can’t have a new leader because the Gifted are choosing not to participate in the Assembly. That must change; we must change. The fate of an entire empire cannot hang in the balance or depend on the choices of thirteen members. I feel it’s my duty to make sure there is change.
June 17, 1974
For now, I am getting better. My injuries are healing and at least I am earning my keep by cleaning plates, pots, and pans in Tony’s diner. I needed to escape Seamus’s grip and Yang’s evil magic and here is where that crazy box sent me. I now have Seamus’s Gift and it fills me with this weird desire to walk barefoot, feeling the dirt between my toes. I also want to place my hands in dirt. I wish I knew how to use the Stone-Magi Gift.
I am in a place Tony calls the outskirts of Albuquerque in New Mexico, United States. I have all hope I master this language soon. I am able to communicate with Tony and his wife by using the words I learned from them and lots of signs. I learned many words from a box of magic they call TV. Tony and his wife are good people. I owe them much. I wish I was a Teacher-Magi. I would teach myself this language. It appears they use the same word for many different things.
Learning the language would mean that I could move around and hide better. Emma calls me Sunshine. I learned that a few weeks ago. Every time she calls for my attention, she says Sunshine. These people have been good to me, a blessing from the Creator. I am so tired now. I’ll write more, some other time.
June 29, 1974
I can feel Yang. He must be very nearby. How in the world has that spawn-from-hell brother of mine found me here? We can’t share the same mother and father! I can’t let him find me. I must run. I’ll go to work today and when my shift is done, I’ll ask for my pay. I will buy a bus ticket to a place called California and move west. I must hide in a big city. Maybe if I am surrounded by a lot of people my feelings and my energy will be hidden. Maybe the multitude of people will mask my energy. I can only hope. I’ll say goodbye to Emma and Tony and tell them I have bad people chasing me. I’ll tell them that I must go. I still can’t speak their language well, but they will understand. I know they will help.
I have very few possessions. This book, the Box of the Chosen, the ring that my grandfather gave me and a few pieces of clothing; they all fit in a bag. I must take my bag to work. I must leave as soon as I finish work. Yang’s pull is too strong.
Late that afternoon, Route 40 New Mexico, USA
Coventry was cleaning booth tables when she saw Yang’s hand on the window of a parked car. She could recognize that hand that was so quick to hit her face, and his ring. The pull she had been feeling all day became a yank. She felt like someone had poured a bucket of cold water all over her body. Then that tug of pain in one’s chest when you receive bad news and your broken heart is pressed hard, not letting you breathe. She felt that pain in the dead center of her chest—not on the left where the heart is, but in the middle, a faint push, but still so painful. Her ears began ringing and her skin became as cold as a winter’s day. Then she saw him. Yang had found her. He’d found the diner. She saw him get out of the car with four other men just as horrid as he. One of the other men was a Discerner-Magi, of that she was certain.
Coventry’s golden eyes hurt. Her body tensed, shoulders tightened, and her gut clenched, preparing her body for battle by instinct. But she cowered from her memories. Coventry kept a rubber band around her wrist to snap against her skin every time she started to dwell on a horrible memory, but now she took the rubber band and tied her brown hair in a ponytail away from her face. Her heart was beating so fast, she felt her entire chest throb: up–down–up–down, in a drum-like fashion. Coventry’s body ached in memory of what Yang and Seamus had done to her the last time she saw them.
Yang walked to the entrance of the diner. Fear almost overwhelmed Coventry’s senses, but she ran to the kitchen and then could not think what to do other than duck and hide, and cry in silence. She sat on the kitchen floor, trembling and sobbing, like a child who knew a beating was coming. Coventry curled next to the legs of her boss. Tony watched as the little thing of a woman ran in and under the table, then sat there hunched over, rocking, on the dirty floor of his kitchen. Although Tony was both the cook and owner of the diner, he was also a World War II veteran, with tattoos of the 82nd Airborne division, and scars of battle and medals to prove it. Emma had told Coventry what little she knew of her husband’s war story. Emma said he fought with the units that dropped over Normandy, France during WWII and he had seen things that kept him awake at night.
From his position at the kitchen table, the man had a perfect view via the serving window of who entered his establishment. Coventry noticed that when Tony saw the group of five men walk into his diner, he frowned.
“Now I understand where you got the cuts, bruises, broken ribs, and black eye the night I found you.” Tony spoke more to himself than to Coventry. He reached into his pocket, and with an open hand gave her all the money he had with him and he gestured to the back door. He turned his back to the front door and whispered, “Go, stay hidden, and good luck.” Emma came from the back office and, standing next to Tony, she saw the men and watched Tony’s reaction.
“Those sons of a bitches are here to take my Sunshine away and finish the job they started that night back in April,” said Tony in a hush to Emma. She ducked down to Coventry and gave her a hug.
“Go! Hitch a ride with one of the men leaving the diner. No matter where you go, G-d is with you. Believe and pray. We love you, my Sunshine. We will cover for you. I’ll try to distract them. Now go and don’t look back. Stay alive,” said Emma.
After that, Emma stood up. She smoothed her apron, took a deep breath, and went to the front counter to take the orders from the new customers.
Coventry heard all of Emma’s words. She understood every word. She looked at Tony’s eyes and for the first time in all the months she’d worked for him, she could see the warrior. This man was a Defender-Magi and a powerful one. How was that possible? A Magi! On this polluted planet without Blue or Red Trees. But there he was, a Defender-Magi, and with an intact Vessel, full of love. Emma must be his connection.
His wife was giving him peace. He could have had hate with everything he had witnessed in life, but instead he had love! Coventry wanted to stay and help him learn to use his Gift, but she needed to run. She wished he had let her see his Gift earlier. She could have helped him understand how to use it to the benefit of his people, but he kept it well hidden. Coventry gave him a gift of her own; she touched his leg and attached hope and purpose to his Vessel.
“Thank you, Tony,” said Coventry. She placed the money in her skirt pockets and crawled to the backdoor.
She then touched as many utensils as she could on her way out and left a measure of prosperity. Her own Vessel was full but she was weakened by the strange power her brother now carried, but she gave what she had. She was a Miracle-Magi and now she needed another miracle of her own to survive.
Coventry knew Yang was not stupid. She knew one of his thugs had to be hanging out by both the back and side doors; of that, she was certain. Instead, she decided to leave through the front door. She took her bag from the back lockers and went to hide by the front counter. She waited for some of the big male customers to leave together. Emma was making them wait for their coffee-to-go.
Emma gave her customary thank you with a smile. And under the cover of some big men leaving, and others entering, Coventry just walked out the front door. Being so small, she was hidden by the sheer bulk of the large truck drivers. Emma further distracted them by making a ruckus with some plates, which attracted everyone’s attention.
Once out, Coventry walked to the line of cars, vans, and trucks and when she was far enough, she ran. She kept running until she saw an open door to one of the motorhomes. The vehicle was running. Coventry hoped it was about to leave, and she entered and hid in the back cabin. When Coventry entered, she closed the door but did not lock it. There was nowhere to go. The back cabin was not big, but it had a toilet, the basic amenities needed to go camping. There was a bed hidden behind a curtain, and in a corner, a space for bags. She hid in the small space, closing the curtain behind her. She tried to calm her mind. It was a monumental task.
Coventry could feel Yang getting near and nearer.
“Coventry, where are you? My lovely sister, come to me now,” said Yang. He ordered her to present herself in front of him. She was increasingly aware of her brother’s presence as he approached the motorhome.
“Coventry, Momma is here with me. She is waiting for us. Come to me, it’s time to come home,” said Yang. She could hear his voice, but she could tell his evil and demented mind wanted nothing more than to kill her. Their link made her aware of his intentions. He didn’t want to talk or take her home. He was going to take her windpipe out of her throat and present it to Klastos as a gift. Coventry could almost read his mind.
She was connected by blood and by spirit to her brother. Yang was her blood brother. He was two years older. She could still remember how much she loved him. The many times they played together as children and how they used to help each other with lessons and chores. She remembered how they used to play hide-and-go-seek and how she could feel him getting closer and closer to the place where she had been hiding. Back then, she could never stay hidden for the sheer joy of the game, but now he had the power to call her out.
“Co–ven–try! Co–ven–try! Come out, come out wherever you are!” As a child, she would jump out, always giggling, always happy. Coventry never understood how Yang did that, but she’d always felt compelled to come out from hiding and he would always win. Now, they were not playing hide-and-go-seek. This time his power was augmented. His call wasn’t for play; now he wanted to hurt her. He wanted to squeeze her throat until tears came from her eyes and he could see no more life in her. Her brother’s insanity grew alongside Klastos’s greed.
She cried hot, sad tears for her beloved brother. Yang was her first hero, her first friend, her first champion, and now her worst enemy. He had been the one that always came to her rescue and got her out of trouble or mischief. Now, in his deranged mind, he was coming to end all her troubles. As Yang got closer to the motorhome, the pull to her heart grew stronger.
“I am dead. Please, Creator, save me. Yang is going to kill me,” said Coventry. Even when he said nothing, the call was ever present.
“Co–ven–try! Co–ven–try! Come out, come out wherever you are!” said Yang.
The call that only kindred spirits could hear became insistent. Coventry’s heart, beating fast, pounded in her ears. Her life came out of her chest borne on gasps of air; her ears rang, like a high pitch whistle that you hear after a loud explosion.
“Coventry, come here now,” said Yang. She could hear him as clear as the morning rain. She unfolded her legs, ready to run to Yang’s calling. She couldn’t hold out any longer. She started to stand when the driver entered the motorhome and released the brakes, making the cabin jerk, and caused Coventry to lose her balance. She fell, hit the side of her head on the edge of the bed frame, and then there was nothing.
Yang was getting anxious. He was calling Coventry in his usual way.
“Co–ven–try! Co–ven–try! Come out, come out wherever you are!” But there was no sign of his sister. He had paid a high price to enhance his magic that allowed him to locate anyone who belonged to his family. It was working. It showed him that Coventry was in that place.
The engines of the vehicles were becoming louder, and his voice was being muffled, but he kept calling. He knew she could still hear him. Yang knew it was only a matter of moments before she would be on her hands and knees in front of him, that treacherous girl. As he continued to walk among the motorhomes and cars and call his sister, some of the motorhomes took off and a cloud of smoke covered him. With stinging eyes and choking, it was he who was brought to his knees. Her life pulled away from him. She left in one of the motorhomes, trucks, or cars that had just pulled out. In which direction? He did not know.
“NO, NO, NO!” shouted Yang.
Rock the Boat by the Hues Corporation was playing on the radio at a deafening level, as the motorhome made its way along route 40 through the desert of New Mexico. Paul Dunbar was on his way to California—red tousled hair, freckled face, and hands, with all the hope and energy youth had to offer. He had graduated from MIT and now he was traveling back to his home state with his PhD in hand. He was on his way to work at Stanford University.
As he drove through the desert road of route 40, he felt hot, sweaty, and wanted to drink a cold soda. He had driven for about two hours since leaving the last fuel station when he heard a woman’s voice screaming.
“STOP, STOP NOW!” She moved as fast as she could.
Startled, Paul looked back and saw the young woman in his motorhome. “How in hell did you get into my motorhome?”
By instinct, he veered off the road and stopped. She got out. The moment her body had exited the motorhome, all she had eaten came out with three times the speed of sound. Paul followed her out of the motorhome and looked at her in amazement. He had never seen anyone more beautiful, even while being sick. She finished. He handed her a towel, which she took with shaking hands. Her fingers were slender, and her veins could be seen clearly through her skin. When she looked up, a pair of the most beautiful, but sad, yellow eyes looked back at him.
“Eskerrik asko, ah thhank eu,” said the woman. She swallowed hard. Paul could see she had a big bump on her head.
“You are hurt. I’ll take you back to the last gas station,” said Paul.
“NO! Pleess, bad man gas station, go with eu. Pleess!”
“Are you sure? You have a bad bump on your head. You need to be seen by a doctor,” said Paul.
“No. Pleess, go, must go with eu. Bad man in gas station.” She said this at the same time she tried to walk back to the motorhome.
“Okay—my name is Paul Dunbar,” he said, pointing at his chest.
“I Coventry.”
And Paul took her into the motorhome, and they drove for hours. Paul made her sing to the eight-track of the Hues Corporation to keep her awake.
San Francisco, California
December 23, 1986
The movie White Christmas was playing on the TV and the family’s bags were packed and ready in the living room. Children’s toys were scattered on the floor in every room of the house—each hall and room filled with the evidence of the children’s happiness. The cab was waiting for the family’s departure.
“Mom, I don’t want to go to Grandma’s house. Why can’t I stay here with you? You always stay here when we go with Dad, or even when we go on vacation, unless it’s to a big city,” said little June.
Coventry abandoned washing the dishes to talk to her oldest daughter face-to-face. “June, I love you all: your father, you, your brother, sister, and your grandparents. But you know I hate leaving the city. We discussed this before. I am ill and my illness prevents me from being away from what is familiar.”
“But Mom!” said little June, her back and shoulders slumping.
Hearing the conversation from the living room, Paul intervened. “Love, I know you want to stay with your mother, and that you want a big family celebration with all the family together. But you know your mom doesn’t like to travel. Next Christmas we’ll make Gramps come to us. How about it?”
“But Dad, Mom is missing most of the times we go anywhere. She almost never leaves San Francisco,” said little June.
“Mommy travels by plane to other large cities,” said Peter, June’s little brother.
“Yeah, but she always returns within a few days,” said June, turning around and sticking her tongue out at her brother.
Coventry sighed, dried her dishwater-covered hands with a towel, and removed the old ring from her right hand. “Here, my sweet girl. Take my ring. This was given to me by my granddad long ago. He said to never take this from my finger, because his ring represents strength and great responsibility. But you are a strong and responsible older sister, so you should wear it now. Go with your dad and make sure they all do what they are supposed to do, okay love? Now, the only thing I ask is for you not take the ring off.” Coventry placed the ring on June’s right-hand index finger and gave her oldest daughter a big hug and a kiss on her ten-year-old forehead.
“Okay Mom, I’ll give the ring back when I see you next. But you know, Christmas won’t be fun if you’re not there.” Young June pouted, but she hugged her mother with such strength as if not wanting to let go.
“You all go and have fun; besides, I have work to do and I need quiet. Paul dear, do you have the plane tickets?”
“Yes baby, I have them in my backpack,” said Paul Dunbar.
“Hon, don’t let Peter eat any of the candy canes before Christmas and make sure Easter takes a bath and brushes her teeth before bed. Love you! Love all of you babies. You hear me?” said Coventry.
“Love you, Mommy,” said little Easter.
“Me too, love you Momma,” said Peter.
“I love you too, honey! I’ll call you when we get to Mom’s. Don’t let the morning sickness take over. Remember to eat something in the morning, even if you don’t feel like it. Okay!” said Paul, giving his wife a hug and a kiss.
“Love you more, now go! I am staying here with company,” said Coventry, patting her belly. “This little one is going to get food whether he likes it or not.” All three of the children left with their father after hugging and kissing Coventry.
A few hours later, while Coventry was having her supper, there was a knock at her door.
“Logan, if you forgot your key again, we are…” But it wasn’t their next-door neighbor, Logan Tate, knocking because he forgot his key. It was someone else, someone not from Earth.
“Princess Coventry!” said the man.
Coventry pushed the door closed and walked backward and tried to run.
“I am the Defender-Magi, Gift-Vessel of your generation. My name is Clifton Tolenko, please don’t be alarmed. I am here to protect you,” said Clifton, rushing inside to explain and try to calm her.
Coventry looked at the man who stood tall in front of her, showing her his mark of the Gifted and the Vessel on his neck. He did not approach her any closer but spoke with a soft authority.
“Why are you here? How did you find me?” asked Coventry.
“Part of my Gift is that I can find my sister-by-Companion wherever she may be, and that is you. I am here to take you away to safety. Yang’s men found you before, and this time Klastos has sent a Destroyer to get you. They will be here in less than twenty minutes,” said Clifton, looking around the house.
“No, I can’t leave. What about my children and my husband?” Coventry raised her hands and took several steps back.
“It’s good they are not here. I can’t take you and all of them with us. And they will be protected as long as you are not with them, but we must go now; take what you need, fast, and let’s go!” Clifton rushed to the windows and closed the shades. Peeking through the slats, he looked out the window and had his green hammer out and ready.
“What is that?” asked Coventry when she saw the hammer.
“This is my weapon. Don’t worry. It is only in case I needed to defend you.” And he winked at Coventry, giving another look at the street from the second window.
“Hurry, take what you need. We must go—” He stopped himself midsentence. “Wait, where is your Ring of the Chosen?”
“My what?” Coventry turned to Clifton.
“Your ring, the one you have had since you were young, and which you are supposed to give to the next generation’s Blue Judge, selected to start the new Assembly. You, the Miracle-Magi, start the cycle by closing one Assembly and passing on the ring so the next Miracle-Magi can start the new cycle. Where is the ring?” Clifton raised his voice.
“I gave it to my eldest daughter June to hold for a little while.” Coventry held June’s rag doll to her heart.
“No! By acting thus, you have selected your own daughter as the next Blue Companion Judge for the next generation. That is, if she stays alive, keeps the ring, and does not lose it. Let the Maker be with her always. Now let’s go, take what you need and hurry,” said Clifton.
Coventry recoiled in horror at what she had done to her own daughter, her beloved June, but she had to hurry. So, she took a picture of her family and a bag of baby clothes she had been preparing for the new baby’s arrival. She went looking for the Box of the Chosen in her closet, but she could not find the old shoe box where she kept it. In a frenzy, Coventry looked for the box when Clifton entered the room, grabbed Coventry by the arm—along with a coat, scarf, and gloves—and dragged her out of the townhouse at 16059 Mason St.
“We must go now; they are but a few miles away.” Clifton kept pulling Coventry until it was clear she was no longer resisting him, and they left, running as fast as they could go. Their escape route away from Yang and his men led them up Green St, a steep incline which Coventry in her pregnant state could not run up. They were limited to walking as fast as she could manage, all the while looking back over their shoulders for Yang’s men.
The pair had not got half a block away from the house when they saw Yang’s men parking and then using force to enter the corner townhouse. Clifton and Coventry kept walking as fast as they could. Once they reached the corner, where there was a set of stairs rising through the street end wall, they looked back again and saw some of the men running toward them. They started climbing the stairs, and Clifton opened his hand, letting his hammer emerge, making it as large as he could. It was as large as a car, and with it, he struck the men five times, taking out a car parked on the side of the street in the process. The men ended up being pinned between the car and a townhouse.
The area at top of the stairs was covered by trees.
“Hand me the Box of the Chosen, I need it to make it easier for us to get off this world. Where is it?” said Clifton.
“I couldn’t find it in the house. I was searching for it when you yanked me out of there,” said Coventry.
“That was your Gifted artifact. One of its benefits is to transport anyone with a Gift away from this world. You knew that, didn’t you?” said Clifton.
Coventry was expressionless.
“Hold my arm,” said Clifton and Coventry did what he asked.
They had to leave. Instead, Clifton touched one of the trees, said a prayer, opened the Box of the Protector. He spoke the words of thanks and they left Earth. Coventry left half her heart behind. Her tears were flowing as she knew that she may never see her husband and her three children again.
Two of Yang’s men stayed behind in the house, along with a hooded monster never seen on Earth. He was covered from head to toe. He wore a hoody, large sunglasses to cover his glowing eyes, and an overcoat. The thing smelled like rotten peaches. As he walked in, he touched one item after the other, smelling everything, tasting the object, and placing it back where he found it.
The men ransacked the house looking for Coventry, but they found no one. Jürgen noticed the many toys that littered the house.
“The princess has offspring. That will make her weak. If she ran with them, it will not be hard to find them,” said Jürgen, in his guttural voice.
Klastos had allowed Jürgen to travel to the planet to ensure Coventry was found and turned into a Hago the moment she was collected. Jürgen and the men searched the entire house, but they did not find Coventry or evidence of where she had fled. But while looking in the room that felt like Coventry’s, Jürgen found the Box of the Chosen, and it had a faint orange glow.
“Coventry has chosen the next Blue Companion Judge,” said Jürgen in his native tongue. The glowing box triggered a memory. He remembered the fateful night by the Blue Tree in the Forest of the Living Dead long ago, when he had made a promise, back when he was a beautiful fairy. When he was a warrior and fought for good. He had to keep that promise. Could he keep the promise?
As long as Klastos did not know about the Box of the Chosen, the Blue Companion was protected. And so, Jürgen made a choice. He would carry out the last conscious act of free will, to empower his lost people. In time, he was going to bring the selected Blue Companion back to Quetza. Even if it meant his own death to go against his master, Klastos. He took the Box of the Chosen and hid it in his coat. It was his secret to keep from all, including his evil self.
Coventry’s family had left for the Christmas Eve, not knowing of Coventry’s secret. They were also entirely unaware that, for the moment, they were safe from Coventry’s enemies. Coventry’s brother wanted her dead. The Emperor of Quetza wanted her found. Her mother wanted her back, and Seamus, her legal husband in Quetza, wanted her suffering in the deepest dungeons he could find.
CW: this book is for adults. It has adult content and language, close-door rape, war scenes, gore.