Circles of Seven (21 page)
As soon as it stopped growing, Shiloh plucked it from the ground. She dug into the edge of one of the bulb’s outer leaves, picking at it with her thumbnail until it peeled away. “The leaves are stubborn, but once I get the first one off the rest are easy.” She stripped the last outer leaf and tossed all five into the wind. “Those are inedible,” she explained. “When you’re hungry, anything looks good, but the leaves are impossible to chew.”
Now exposed, the inside of the bulb boasted a white, fibrous substance that looked like a cross between cotton and cauliflower.
“You eat that white stuff?” Bonnie asked.
“Uh-huh. I get one almost every day, but it usually grows only once a day no matter how many times I use the pump. Occasionally it works twice, but if it does, it always skips the next day.” Shiloh pulled off a piece and popped it into her mouth, chewing and swallowing in rapid succession. “It’s kind of soft, like overcooked beans.”
“What does it taste like?”
“Sweet, like honey. Maybe a hint of ginger.”
Bonnie watched a short, old man shuffling through the dust, waving a long stick at the pigeon-chasing dog. “Sounds delicious.”
“Yeah. Not bad.” Shiloh plucked off another marble-sized chunk. “You can have some if you want, but I don’t think you’d like the aftereffects.”
The dog ran to the bench and sat next to his mistress, and they both disappeared, along with the old man. Bonnie turned back to Shiloh. “The aftereffects? You mean like gas?”
“Worse. It always makes me sick. My stomach gets real bitter, and I get terrible cramps.”
“That’s awful!”
“Worse than awful, but I’d starve without it.” She tossed the chunk into her mouth and spoke while chewing. “I skipped about two weeks and shriveled into a scarecrow.” She swallowed and picked at the bulb again. “It’s all I have to eat, but it keeps me alive.” She pushed another white lump into her mouth and chewed while watching a young couple passing by, staring at each other with loving eyes. The woman munched on a plume of pink cotton candy, and the man stuffed his mouth with a handful of popcorn from a red and white box. A kernel dropped to the ground and vanished.
Shiloh swallowed again and sighed. “I have all I really need.” As she peeled off the last clump of food, a tiny luminescent bead remained in her palm, pale blue with purple sparkles within. “Oh, that’s a pretty one!”
Bonnie leaned over to have a look. “It has a seed in the middle?”
Shiloh raised the bead, allowing the sun’s light to shine through. It painted a bluish spot on the cobblestones. “I don’t think it’s a seed. I’ve tried planting and watering them, but nothing ever happens.”
Bonnie gazed at the sapphire-like globule. “What do you do with them?”
“I save the prettiest ones.” She gave the bead a gentle squeeze. “They’re mushy enough to poke a hole through.” She tugged a string that hung around her neck, then pulled it over her head and handed it to Bonnie. “I put some of them on a necklace.”
Bonnie cradled the necklace in her palm. The multicolored beads painted a kaleidoscope of blending hues on her skin.
Shiloh pushed a scarlet bead along the string with her finger. “Whenever I get a new color, I put it on the necklace. Would you believe that after all these years, this is my first blue one?” She pulled a needle from her dress pocket. “I found needles in the seamstress shop down the street.” She untied the knot and inserted the string through the eye of the needle. “I wish I could find some fabric. I’d patch my dress or make a new one.” After poking a hole in the blue bead, she threaded the string through it. “There,” she said, retying the string around her neck and letting the beads dangle over her shirt. “That makes forty different colors and shades.”
Bonnie lifted the necklace. “I love the way the light makes them glitter. It’s sort of like a rainbow, but with lots more colors.”
Shiloh pushed the pump lever and let the stream pour over her cupped hands. She splashed her face and pulled up the hem of her shirt to dry her eyes. “Sleeping in that alley gets me dirty, but it keeps me out of the wind. And I can’t sleep in any of the buildings. For some reason I have terrible nightmares unless I’m outside. It’s worse than not sleeping at all.”
Bonnie reached her sweatshirt sleeve up to Shiloh’s face. “Here. Let me get a spot.” She gently wiped Shiloh’s cheek with the cuff. “Where did you come from? Your parents? Your hometown?”
Shiloh gave Bonnie a thankful nod. “Some of the details are fading away, but I do remember that I lived in Glastonbury, England. My father was a teacher, and Mum stayed at home. For all I know, they’re both dead now.”
As Shiloh talked, Bonnie couldn’t help staring at her face. It was like watching a movie of herself, the way her eyes and lips angled with certain words. Shiloh’s bright eyes and creamy, smooth skin made her face shine like an angel’s. It was so strange. Somehow Bonnie had found her twin, a mirror image, a—
Bonnie’s heart thumped.
A mirror!
Shiloh lowered her brow. “What’s wrong with you? Your jaw’s hanging open.”
Bonnie closed her mouth, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. She snapped her wings out, stretching them to their full span. “I . . . I really can’t explain. I just have to get out of here.”
Shiloh dropped the empty stalk to the ground and clutched Bonnie’s arms. Her voice pitched into a wail. “Don’t leave without me!” Tears welled in her eyes. “I can’t stand it anymore!” Suddenly, her eyes turned glassy, widening to panicked orbs. She clutched her stomach and dropped to her knees, gasping with deep, spastic grunts. “Ohhhh! . . . Augh!”
Bonnie knelt at her side and rubbed her back. “Cramps?”
Shiloh nodded, folding her arms tightly against her waist, breathing rapidly. “It . . . it only lasts . . . a few minutes.”
Bonnie kept rubbing Shiloh’s back, sighing to herself. “I can’t understand why God would let you suffer like this.” Several people walked past, none noticing the poor girl’s misery. A lady in a tight dress sashayed within two feet of their crouched bodies but passed by without a glance. A stocky young man dashed across the street, starting and stopping a couple of times, as if he were dodging traffic. A short, elderly lady shuffled into a bookstore, vanishing just as she passed over the threshold.
Shiloh straightened and took in a deep breath. She stayed on her knees for a moment before lifting her hand. Bonnie stood and helped Shiloh to her feet. “You okay now?”
Shiloh kept her hand pressed against her stomach. “Just a twinge left. I’ll be fine.”
“Did you see that lady?” Bonnie asked. “She disappeared when she went in the bookstore.”
Shiloh rubbed her hands across the shirt Bonnie had lent her, smoothing out the wrinkles. “I didn’t see her, but they just go poof like that all the time, and it’s usually at a doorway. But there’s another door that’s completely different. A lot of them end up going through that one.”
“Where is it?”
Shiloh gestured with her head. “C’mon. I’ll show you.” She marched quickly down the road, finally slowing when she reached a teenaged boy carrying a bouquet of flowers in his arms. Shiloh followed him, keeping in step with the boy’s careful gait. “I call him Frankie. He’s one of my favorites ’cause he always seems so happy. He’ll lead us to the main door.”
“Don’t you know where it is by now?”
Shiloh hooked her arm around Frankie’s elbow, but he didn’t seem to notice. “The main door is in a different building every day, so I never really know until they find it for me.” Frankie took a sudden turn, pulling away from Shiloh’s arm, and headed for the walkway. “Looks like he’s going to the feed store,” she said. “It hasn’t been there in quite a while.”
Frankie stepped up to a narrow building and paused, cradling the flowers in one arm while digging into his pocket for something. A sign dangled at the roofline, a single rope attached to a corner of a rectangular board that read, “From Bud to Cud Feed Store.” Bonnie grimaced. “I wonder who came up with these horrible store names!”
“I know what you mean,” Shiloh said, raising her eyebrows. “I’m not even going to tell you the name of the fertilizer store on the other side of town.”
Frankie pulled a silver dollar from his pocket and gripped it in his fist, smiling. Light from inside the feed store’s doorway spilled onto the grimy porch and out to the street, covering the young man’s shoes. He tromped up three steps and marched across the threshold, his body passing through what appeared to be a barrier of liquid light. It seemed to envelop him, raising sparks that fell like fiery beads on the porch. They rolled around, fuming and spitting until they evaporated in puffs of vapor.
Shiloh turned to Bonnie, her eyebrows raised. “Groovy, huh?”
Bonnie lowered her chin and tried to swallow. “Yes. . . . Groovy.”
Shiloh waved her hand and laughed. “Don’t worry. Frankie’s okay. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
Bonnie took a step closer to the door, eyeing the bright field of energy in the opening. “Have you ever tried to go through?”
Shiloh grabbed Bonnie’s wrist and pulled her back. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you.”
Bonnie spun around. “Why not?”
“Watch.” Shiloh ripped a stave from a rotting barrel that stood next to the door and gave it an underhand toss toward the opening. As soon as it reached the space, it sprang back like a shot from a rifle, leaving a trail of sparks behind it.
Bonnie ran to the street and retrieved the stave. One end emitted a plume of thick, curling smoke. “Wow! How did you know not to try it yourself?”
“Because I knew I wasn’t like the ghosts.” Shiloh took the stave and rapped it on the porch, detaching its smoky ashes. “So after I saw Frankie go through the main door, I tested it with a piece of wood just like this one. Then, about a month after I got here, a man showed up. He was a real weirdo, claiming to be the next King Arthur and that he was here to rescue me.” She pointed at the door with the stave. “I showed it to the guy, thinking it might be a way out. Of course I warned him that it might carry a jolt, and I even showed him what it did to my stick, but he puffed up his chest and said, ‘Stand back, fair maiden. If the ghosts can do it, I can do it.’” Shiloh rolled her eyes. “I was thinking, ‘Fair maiden? What kind of crackpot is this?’ But before I knew it, he was walking right into the doorway.” Shiloh spread her arms and bulged her eyes. “His body stiffened, his hair stood on end, and he lit up like a throbbing X-ray screen. I could even see his bones! The door shot him like a daredevil out of a cannon, all the way to the street.” She smacked her hands together. “He hit those stones and skidded thirty feet.”
Bonnie held her breath, unable to speak.
“I ran over to check on him,” Shiloh continued. She lowered her head for a moment, then looked up at Bonnie, new tears glinting in her eyes. “He was dead.”
Chapter 15
Billy flailed in the darkness, hurtling through the void. He tumbled headlong, turning over and over, stretching out his arms.
Gotta . . . catch . . . something! Or . . . I’m history!
Velvety fingers brushed by his hands, then his back and legs. He felt like he was rolling through soft bushes, being tickled by downy vegetation, yet he sensed no ground, nothing to support his weight. How could he fall and roll like this without getting hurt?
At last his momentum slowed, and he floated to the ground, his shoes gently pressing spongy earth. Feathery probes still prodded him, like sniffing hounds checking out a suspicious new arrival.
Unable to see in the dark, Billy swatted at the annoying tickle. As his hand flicked in front of his face, a dim stream of scarlet light passed by. His rubellite ring! It pulsed slowly, its light shifting between two slightly different shades of red, like a warning beacon atop a radio tower.
Billy grabbed one of the thin, fibrous probes and placed his ring finger next to it. The tickling feeler looked like a fern leaflet, but in the red light the color skewed. The fern wiggled in his hand, feeling more like a squirming snake than a plant. He flung his fingers open, and the leaflet jerked away into the darkness.
An odd rumbling arose from the ground near his feet, gentle and rhythmic. He stooped and laid his palm on the grass. It felt like some kind of vibrating engine lay buried under the spongy earth, but it had a strange cadence, familiar, yet not like any motor he had ever heard.
He straightened again and rubbed his eyes. A faint glow slowly materialized in front of him, like the dawn of a new day. But the light didn’t come from a brightening horizon; it seemed to materialize in the air itself, as though every particle emitted its own radiance.
Billy eased forward, allowing each step to press down carefully. A hose-like object jerked out of the way just before his foot squashed it. Was it a snake? Or maybe something worse?
He glared at the ground. Something down there was breathing . . . panting. His eyes adjusted, slowly recognizing the outline of . . . “A lion!” He leaped backwards, and his foot slipped into a hole. He yanked it up and squatted low. Did it see him? Would it pounce?
The cat lay curled up in a nest of leaflets just inches from where he had been standing. Its head perked up, and its narrow, feline eyes stared at Billy. Rising to all fours, it let out a wide, stretching yawn, baring its dagger-like teeth. With a flick of its tail it turned and followed a narrow path that led to the border of the garden. Billy laid his hand over his heart, trying to slow its rapid-fire drumming.
He reached back, searching for the hole.
Ah! Here it is.
As his eyes continued to adjust, he counted. Two, no, three holes! Three pits the size of manholes plunged downward with only a few feet of solid ground separating them. His fingers ventured a few inches into the middle one. A slight buzzing sensation crawled along his skin.
Could they be portals?
He rose to his full height and stepped away from the pits. As the dawning glow spread, the scene sharpened. He stood in a field of lush ferns, each frond standing at least elbow high, some reaching above his head. They waved back and forth as if welcoming the new day. A fresh breeze blew over their feathery tops, creating a ripple of bowing heads. When the ripple reached the end of the field, the ferns waved again, as though they loved to celebrate every second of glorious light.
Enormous trees bursting with dark green leaves surrounded the circular field of swaying fronds, each tree nodding in the breeze as if agreeing with the morning adulation.
Stepping lightly along the path, Billy caressed the waving green stalks as he passed by. He could almost hear them purr as they arched their backs like satisfied kittens. When he reached the forest, he found a dome of earth next to a huge oak, a perfect place to rest. He sat and luxuriated in the bliss—perfect temperature, refreshing mists wafting through from unseen fountains, and pleasant aromas riding on gentle breezes.
For some reason his clothes had dried, even his shoes. Everything was comfortable, not an ache or pain, not even a hint of sweat on his skin. Could any place be more perfect than this? The forest stood in flawless beauty—without scar or knot on any trunk, without hint of mold on the myriad, multi-pointed leaves, and without sign of decay on the weed-free turf.
Although the air was saturated with pleasure, Billy felt a gnawing discomfort within. The simple delight of pure rest had pushed out nearly all distractions, but something was wrong. A single word kept prodding his conscience.
Bonnie?
He jumped to his feet and swiveled his head all around.
Bonnie! How could I forget? That witch must still have her!
He gazed over the field of ferns and then into the forest. Although the tremendous tree canopy should have blocked normal sunlight, he still had no problem peering into the matrix of woods.
Nothing there.
He searched the ground for a clue, stepping to the edge of the ring of ferns.
Am I in another circle? Would this be number four?
He spotted something white where two paths crossed at the center of the ring and dashed toward it.
Another stone!
Snatching it up, he drank in the words on its face, whispering each phrase.
New Eden lives in circle four,
Beginning new a world thereof,
But paradise is sealed for us
Who suffer now for those we love.
Billy carried the stone back to the edge, touching the fronds with the end of his finger as he passed by.
Eden? Like the Garden of Eden?
A soft rustle sounded from the midst of the ferns. Billy spun toward it, trying to focus his eyes in the strange light. Someone was walking down the path—a female—petite, dainty, almost nymphean. Dressed in flowing silk she seemed to float through the garden, her bare feet brushing the ground like whispery kisses.
She smiled as she approached, radiant, chestnut hair draping her shoulders over her white gown. A leafy garland dotted with tiny white flowers crowned her head in a circlet. Without wrinkle, her skin told of less than twenty years of life. Without blemish, it told of spotless purity. As layers of thin silk flowed around her body, they accentuated her slender curves, giving hints through the translucent curtain that a girl had recently blossomed into a young woman.
Billy’s heart thumped, and he swallowed hard. Was this a dream? He hid the stone behind his back, unsure if he should have left it where he found it.
When the girl drew near, she gave him a formal curtsy, then bowed her head. “Welcome, my king. I have been waiting for you.”
Billy cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice from squeaking. “You’ve been waiting for me? Who are you?”
She lifted her head and gazed at him, her bright blue eyes sparkling. “I am Naamah, the maiden of this new world. Merlin told me you would come.”
“Merlin told you?”
She rose to her feet. “Yes. You are the coming king, are you not?” Her eyes moved toward his arms. “I saw you pick up the stone you now hold. I assume you have read the prophecy.”
Billy brought his hands forward and laid the stone gently on the ground. “I read it, but I’m not a king. . . . I mean . . . not really. I’m not a real king . . . not like a guy who sits on a throne or anything. I’m just Arthur’s heir, and I’m here to rescue any prisoners I find.”
“
Just
Arthur’s heir?” Naamah let out a short, nervous laugh. “My lord, please do not blaspheme that fair name with such a word.”
Billy shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that I’m just a guy who’s here to help. I don’t want a throne.”
Naamah’s smile slowly dissolved, her eyes welling with tears as she turned her head away. “Then I must continue to wait for the true king. I trust in Merlin’s prophecy. My king will come.”
“Look . . . Naamah . . . I really am Arthur’s heir.” He pulled the sword from his back scabbard. “See? I have Excalibur. But I don’t know anything about being your king.”
She rushed forward and threw her arms around his torso. “Then you are the one I’ve waited for!” She tilted her head upward, gazing into his eyes. “And not just my king! You are my betrothed. We are to populate this new world and establish your good rule forever.”
She laid her head against his chest. The warmth of her body radiated into Billy’s, sending prickles of heat across his skin. He grasped her shoulder with his free hand and pushed her gently away. “Naamah,” he said, his voice catching, “I . . . I don’t think this is part of the plan.”
She bent her knee in another brief curtsy. “Please, my lord, I beg your pardon. But Merlin has foreseen it. Do you not know the great prophecy of old?”
Billy slid Excalibur back into its scabbard. “I’ve heard a lot of prophecies from Merlin, but nothing about being your betrothed.”
Naamah’s brow furrowed. “How strange! Merlin said you would recognize his song.”
“His song?”
“Yes. I’ll sing it for you.” She folded her hands across her chest and lowered her head, as if praying. Then, with a gentle smile, she began singing in a sweet, hypnotic voice.
The child of doubt will find his rest
And meet his virgin bride
To build a world of love so blest
Forever to abide.
For Arthur has a choice in hand,
To choose this lasting bliss
Or fly again to troubled lands
And toil through hell’s abyss.
Billy shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t remember hearing that song.”
Naamah lifted her gaze again and met Billy’s. “You are the child of doubt, are you not?”
He nodded, barely able to blink. “Yeah. I’ve been told that before.”
“Then release your doubts and believe. Why choose the toils of hell when you can live in bliss with me?” She spread out her arms, her eyes sparkling like dew-misted gems. “I am your virgin bride. Do I displease you?”
Billy gulped. “Uh . . . no. It’s not that.” Her smile penetrated his heart, joyful, yet sad at the same time. With her arms spread, her silky gown pressed closer to her body, outlining her lovely form.
Billy’s heart raced wildly. Cool sweat slicked his forehead. He lowered his chin. “No. You don’t displease me. I just—”
Naamah grabbed his hand. “Then come with me. I want to show you something.”
Billy allowed her to lead him across the field of ferns and into the surrounding forest. What did she want to show him? Maybe it would be better if he didn’t see anything more she had to offer, but he wanted to know what she had in mind. Maybe it was innocent. She seemed to ooze innocence, didn’t she? He tried to push the battle out of his mind as they hurried past the nodding ferns.
Naamah stopped at a gap in the trees where two holes scarred the dark earth, each about ten feet across and five feet deep. She waved her arm over the expanse. Her smile and gleaming eyes sparkled in the forest’s heavenly glow. “Here we are.”
Billy set his hands on his hips. “What happened here? A couple of trees got uprooted?”
“Yes. The tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil once resided here. But this is
New Eden,
so we need only the tree of life. Our union will restore it to this place, and we will live in bliss forever.” She pulled the garland from her hair and fashioned the strands into a figure eight. She looped one end around her wrists and extended the other loop to Billy, her face beaming. “Unite with me, my lord, under this eternal covenant, and we will build a new world together.”
She stepped up so close, he could smell the sweet fragrance of her hair and sense the warmth of her body. Another aroma drifted past his nose. Something rich and earthy, like the sultry odor of clean sweat, permeated the air. She placed her palm against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. As she sighed, her gentle breath penetrated his shirt and warmed his skin. “Will you stay with me?” she asked.
Billy’s heart raced. A million needles pricked his skin. He swallowed a trickle of saliva through his parched throat. A bursting surge of heat erupted from within and roared through his body. It was too much . . . just too much. He bit his lip hard, and his mind cried out.
Help me!
The words of Merlin’s poem flowed through his thoughts.
But Paradise is sealed for us who suffer now for those we love.
A hint of paradise lay on his chest, but she was not the one he loved. As far as he knew, she was merely a passion, not a promise. She was a flash of light, not an enduring flame. Her vows rested only on her ability to provide comfort and pleasure, and he could never pledge his heart to a girl who might be nothing more than a phantom.
Taking a deep breath, he grasped her shoulders and gently, but firmly, pushed her away. He reached back and drew out Excalibur, gripping it with both hands and raising it high. As his eyes absorbed its magnificent glow, soothing coolness penetrated his body like fresh rain on a sizzling sidewalk.
He slowly turned away. “I . . . I’m sorry, Naamah. I have to go.” He took two steps toward the field of ferns and stopped. “I am prophesied to be the husband of someone else, and I have to find her.”
“But if you leave me here without the tree of life, I’ll die!”
Billy refused to look back. He could picture Naamah’s beautiful, pleading face in his mind, and he knew it would melt his resolve. He began walking again, this time without hesitation, calling back, “Whoever put you in this garden is responsible for taking care of you. I have to move on.”
Naamah’s voice cried out in lament. “I’ll be good to you. I promise.” The sound of weeping followed, then sobs. She added, “Don’t you like me?”
Billy paused again, but only for a second. Still clutching Excalibur, he marched down the path that crossed the field, his voice rising. “I guess I like you, Naamah, but I have to be true to someone I love. She’s worth waiting for.” He stopped in the middle of the field. The urge to turn around and see her face tortured his mind, but he knew looking back would be a mistake . . . his last mistake.
He swept aside a cluster of ferns and located the three pits. Full daylight revealed nothing inside. They seemed identical, completely black and apparently bottomless.