Chapter 15 Erased #2
A chill crawled up my spine. “That’s… that’s not normal.”
“No,” she agreed, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s not.”
I turned back to her, pulse quickening. “Who was it? The person who bought them?”
“A polite man wearing a gray suit and expensive shoes.” She brushed something invisible off the counter. “He knew exactly what he wanted. Came in with a list.”
“Did he give a name?”
“No.” Her eyes held mine, unreadable. “But he paid with a card. Corporate account.”
My pulse raced. “What company?”
She reached under the counter and pulled out a receipt, sliding it across to me.
“Ekklesia Biotech.”
The air left my lungs.
“Are you sure?” I whispered.
She looked at me with something too solemn to be called a smile. “I don’t forget things like that, dear.”
My hands were shaking. “What are they doing? Why would they buy every book about—” I didn’t have an answer. A sick, twisting feeling in my gut told me that this wasn’t random or an attempt to suppress some kind of truth. A niggling thought in the back of my mind screamed that this felt personal.
“There’s something else,” the shopkeeper said. She reached under the counter again and pulled out something small, setting it on the wood between us.
A coin. A replica of the one in my desk drawer, down to the pomegranate design.
“He left this,” she said. “Said to give it to you if you came back.”
Nausea twisted my gut. “How did he know I’d come here?”
“People like him know a great many things they shouldn’t.” Her voice carried an edge. “He’s been watching you for some time, I imagine.”
“Who is he?” I demanded, fear sharpening into anger. “What does he want?”
“What do you think he wants?” She leaned forward slightly. “You’re asking the right questions, walking the right paths. Of course they’re paying attention.”
“I don’t understand—”
“Yes, you do.” Her eyes pinned me in place. “Deep down, in places you’re not ready to look yet, you understand perfectly.”
I wanted to deny it, but my throat closed up.
“I know they’re pretending to study wellness,” she continued. “And I know that those who get too close start unraveling. Sometimes slowly. Sometimes all at once.” She paused. “Your friend in the hospital—she’s one of many.”
“How do you know about Amy?”
“Because this isn’t the first time Ekklesia has done this. And it won’t be the last.” She straightened. “They target the vulnerable. The ones who need money or answers or hope. They promise transformation. What they deliver is something else entirely.”
“What do they deliver?”
But she just shook her head. “That’s for you to discover. I can only point you toward the water. I can’t make you drink.”
Frustration boiled over. “Why won’t anyone just tell me what’s happening?”
“Because some truths destroy people who aren’t ready for them,” she said, and there was genuine sympathy in her voice. “You’re remembering in pieces. That’s how it always begins. But if someone just handed you the whole story right now, your mind would break trying to hold it.”
“Remembering what?”
She smiled sadly. “When you’re ready to know, you’ll know. Until then—” She gestured to the coin. “Be careful with that. It’s not a gift. It’s a claim.”
“A claim on what?”
“On you.” She quirked a brow. “Or more specifically, on what you’ll become when you finally remember who you were.”
My mouth went dry. “I don’t—”
“You will.” She turned away. “Be careful, Melanie. The path you’re walking gets darker before it gets lighter. And not everyone who walks it comes out the other side.”
Panic prickled in the back of my mind. I hadn’t told her my name.
I wanted to demand more answers, to shake her until she stopped speaking in prophecies and just told me what was happening.
But something in her expression said she’d given me all she could.
I left the coin on the counter and walked out.
Outside, the gauzy afternoon light felt too bright after the dimness of the shop. I fumbled for my phone, suddenly desperate to hear a familiar voice.
It rang twice before Candace answered.
“Melanie?” Her voice was clipped, professional, but edged with concern. “I was just about to call you.”
“Did you find something?”
“More than I wanted to.” I heard papers rustling. “Ekklesia Biotech has no verifiable medical licensing. No FDA oversight I can track. The address listed for their corporate headquarters leads to a warehouse that’s been empty for over a year.”
My stomach dropped. “So they’re not legitimate.”
“They’re not even real, Mel. At least not in any legal sense.
” She paused. “The man listed as the company’s founder, Cyrus Vane, doesn’t appear on any business records before three years ago.
No birth certificate, no social security number, no employment history.
It’s like he materialized out of thin air. ”
“Cyrus Vane,” I repeated, and something about it felt wrong.
“I’m still digging,” Candace continued. “But there’s something else. Something I found in your aunt’s things.”
My heart stuttered. “Reenie?”
“One of her old reporter’s journals. From when she was doing investigative work.” Candace’s voice dropped. “Mel, she was looking into them. Years ago, before they even called themselves Ekklesia. She had notes about medical trials, student participants getting sick, people dying.”
The world tilted beneath my feet. “What?”
“She thought something was happening to her,” Candace said quietly. “Something unnatural. She wrote about feeling watched, followed. About men in expensive suits asking questions. About—” Her voice cracked. “About being afraid.”
Tears burned behind my eyes. “Mom—”
“I don’t think she just got sick, Melanie.” The words came out pained. “I think they made her sick. I think she got too close to the truth and they…” She stopped, unable to finish.
But she didn’t need to. I understood.
My kind, stubborn, and fearless Aunt Reenie, who taught me to ask questions and trust my instincts, had been killed by the same people now targeting Amy.
“I’m bringing you the journal,” Candace said. “We need to talk. Face-to-face. Soon.”
“Okay,” I managed through the tightness in my throat. “When?”
“Give me an hour. I’ll meet you at your dorm.” She hesitated. “Mel, be careful. If they know you’re digging—”
“They do,” I said. “Someone bought out the entire mythology section of a bookshop. Left a message for me.”
Silence on the other end. Then, quietly: “They’re escalating.”
“I know.”
“Don’t go anywhere alone. Stay in public places. And for god’s sake, don’t—”
The line crackled. I pulled the phone away from my ear, frowning.
“Mom?”
Static, then nothing.
I looked at my screen. Call dropped, no servise. I’d had full bars a second ago. A chill crawled up my spine. I glanced around the normally busy street, typically filled with students, shoppers, and traffic.
It was empty. No cars or pedestrians, just me standing on a sidewalk that suddenly felt like a stage. I started walking faster, my footsteps echoing too loudly in the unnatural silence. My heartbeat raced in my chest.
Then I heard footsteps, soft and staggered, not quite in rhythm with mine.
I looked over my shoulder. A shadow ducked into a narrow alleyway. Another form moved behind a parked car.
My pulse stuttered.
Don’t panic. Just keep moving.
I turned a corner, using a shop window as a mirror. Three figures. No, four, spread out behind me. They moved in perfect coordination, herding me like prey.
Shit.
I broke into a run.
Footsteps pounded after me, urgent and closing in. My lungs burned as I ducked through an alleyway, past a dumpster where two stray cats hissed and scattered.
Then I skidded to a halt.
Dead end.
No, no, no—
I spun around.
They were already there. Four men in dark clothes, hoods pulled low enough to obscure their faces. They gathered around me, blocking the only way out.
“Miss Blumenthal.” The voice was detached and professional, as if he were collecting a package. “You need to come with us.”
“No.” My voice came out thin, breathless. I backed up until my shoulders hit the brick. “Stay away from me.”
“You don’t get to decline,” another said, stepping closer.
“S-stay back,” I hissed, my fight or flight reflex kicking into overdrive.
One of the men caught me by the wrist so hard that I could already feel a bruise forming.
Before I could react, a voice cut in, low and furious.