The House on Black Lake (34 page)

“I guided you through the waves of time and escorted you to the Blessed One. What was revealed in the sacred place is true. You are carrying my child. You are the mother of the Sixth Child, Alexandra. The prophets say he is the Child of Destiny,” Ramey says, and yanks hard on the reins of Faithful, who bucks fiercely at his side.

“It is dangerous now for anyone to learn of our connection. Meet me a year from this day, at the dawn following the summer solstice. Instructions and directions will be sent by messenger. I must warn you it is a long and arduous journey to an underground sanctuary below the equator. It is there, at the blessed grotto, where I will explain the secrets and baptize our child in the waters within the cavern that will serve as our meeting place for many years to come.”

Ramey draws his hand along the horse’s neck to soothe him and peers at me with intense concern. Whether or not he is able to recognize my shock at his acknowledgement of the mystical dream, I cannot ascertain. He is silent for a moment, as though drawing together his thoughts.

“You are the transcriber of the tablets. You must begin to set down your story as soon as you return home. I have retrieved the sword and it is stashed in a place where no one will find it. The whores of injustice will no longer feed from the blood of the meek. The shift has begun. Trust that I will be there with you in the darkness. Have faith that I will guide you now, through the long battle and into eternity.” His face breaks into a triumphant smile and he raises his hand in a gesture of comradeship and farewell.

I raise my bandaged palm and return his smile, and with that he turns and leads the animals back down the path.

“What did he say, Mom?”

“He wishes us a wonderful trip.”

“Mommy, what’s wrong? Are you going to be sick?”

“Madame, do you need the bag for the vomiting?” Zito asks. He leans down and rummages through the garbage on the floor beneath his feet.

“That is not necessary. Let’s go home, Sammy,” I say, and wrap an arm around my son’s shoulder to draw him into my arms.

Zito flips the butt of his cigarette with his tongue, takes a hard drag on the burning end and spits it out the window. Turning to me with smoke spewing from his nostrils, he says, “Ready Madame?”

“Floor it.”

“You Americans love your rides,” he cries out and we take off with a flying jolt.

“Yes, Mr. Zahn, we love our rides,” I say and return his smile in the rearview mirror.

I turn back one last time to see what lies behind me. The road is empty. All that is visible is a cloud of dust. Only dust remains where we once stood filled with anticipation at the beginning of our journey to Black Lake. Before us lies a fresh road, blazing with the rising sun and teeming with possibility. Dawn has awakened hope and with it new dreams are spun. The tattered remnants of the past have given way to an unknown future, a beauty stitched together with gilded threads of truth.

Through chaos, unity and love, I have found my way back to the place at the edge of the abyss, where snow falls and angels soar. At end of the world or the beginning of a new world—it is difficult to tell the difference.