Chapter 2
TOGETHER AGAIN
My chest tightened. I allowed myself a few shallow breaths. That was all the collapse I could afford before I shifted my focus from the problem to a hopeful solution. Maybe Jasher would return to normal if I dried him.
I tried to lift him, then push him into the barn, out of the rain. He didn’t budge.
I shoved, braced my feet, and strained until my vision blurred. Nothing. But give up? No.
Stomach in knots, I tore back into the barn, yanked a tarp off a tractor, and draped it on the ground in front of Jasher.
It took everything I had to tip him onto the plastic, inch him toward the shelter, and drag him through the door, but I did it.
By the time I crumpled beside him, my hands were numb and my lungs burning.
But even after he dried, not a bead of moisture remaining, he remained frozen in that metal form. My chin trembled. He’d promised he wouldn’t shift, and he hadn’t, but I would have preferred that to this. The unknown.
What if he was stuck like this?
No. I refused the thought and launched a wild search for anything useful. Oil for his joints. Tools to pry at the seams. My own body, pressed against his, willing warmth into unyielding steel. Nothing worked.
Eventually, exhaustion got the better of me. I curled up beside him, resting my cheek on his arm. Cold leached into my skin. He felt like a gravestone.
“I’ll recharge for a couple minutes,” I murmured. “Ten tops. Then I’ll try something else.”
In seconds, sleep lured me under with a promise of respite. But I didn’t rest. I remembered.
Images filled my head. I stood inside a dungeon with the Guardian—Ian, Jasher’s maker. Two guards held a teenager immobile while Ian forced a poison pill down her throat. A pill I was supposed to use on him.
She convulsed, foamed at the mouth, and collapsed, dead. He met my gaze—and grinned. His glee was palpable.
I woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat, my heart slamming against my ribs. Sickness churned in my stomach, threatening to erupt. Pretty Patch. Just sixteen. Once my friend. She’d tried to kill me a short while before her own death. The betrayal hurt, but deep down, I’d understood.
She’d craved freedom from her “title holder.” A man named Governor West. He’d held her life in his hands and ensured my death was the key to her prison lock. But even then, I hadn’t wanted her dead.
Focus. I breathed in. Out. In, out. My vision cleared, and with it, my stomach settled. Sunshine poured through holes and slits in the barn walls, spotlighting dancing dust motes. A rooster crowed in the distance.
I’d slept all night.
Dismayed, I scrambled to check on Jasher—no change—then hurried to the door. I peered through a crack between wooden slats. Thank the Lord. No workers approached.
Returning to Jasher’s side, I knelt and looked him over with a more discerning eye. My head hung. The metal hadn’t softened or thinned.
“I’m out of ideas,” I croaked.
How much time passed as I searched a mental filing cabinet for inspiration, I didn’t know. My concentration broke only when door hinges squeaked.
An ocean of light flooded the barn. Stomach a mess once again, I tossed the tarp over Jasher, leaped up, and crouched behind a massive tractor wheel, chanting. Don’t notice us, don’t notice us, don’t notice us.
I didn’t see who entered, but I heard footsteps. Darkness returned as the door closed with a snick. My ribs clenched around my heart, squeezing out worry.
“Oracle?” a woman asked, unsure. “Are you here?”
I knew that voice. My body reacted before my mind caught up, lungs locking, pulse skidding. Momma. Here. Now.
What should I do, what should I do? Continue hiding, hoping she wouldn’t uncover the tarp? Present myself and deal with the consequences?
Considering I hadn’t faded into the ether or exploded yesterday, presenting myself might be the only route with a (possible) happy ending. But oh, this was gonna rip me open, wasn’t it?
Inhale. Exhale. I slipped from the shadows and slowly approached her, my heartbeat echoing inside my ears. And there she was, the woman with two identities. My mother, Sandra Shaker. Queen Sandrine Ori’Emet of Hakeldama.
She waited near the entryway, wringing her hands exactly as I was doing.
I gobbled up the sight of her, one detail at a time.
In her twenties. Delicate features. A fall of glossy dark hair.
Sparkling hazel eyes. She wore comfy gray sweatpants and a white shirt, the fabric strained over her very rounded belly.
A belly she now clutched, as if the baby—me—had just started kicking with a vengeance.
Did I sense myself?
On her feet were rubber rain boots with cat faces painted on the toes.
I wanted to run to her. Wanted to disappear. How many times had I dreamed of hugging her good morning? Kissing her goodnight? Telling her about my day and hearing about hers? Or hearing the four words I’d needed more than breath.
“I love you, Rye.”
Even now, my heart cried out with a response. “I love you too, Momma.”
My eyes stung, just for a moment. Just as a warning about the future formed my tongue. But I shut that down. Not yet, not yet. No reason to frighten her with an event that wouldn’t take place for years to come.
“It’s you.” She rubbed her temples, her gaze sharp and assessing. “I didn’t recognize you yesterday, but I do now.”
I swallowed. “You recognize me…as what?” A daughter who’d time-traveled?
“You are Rye, the Oracle Great and Terrible.”
Blink, blink. “I’m not an oracle.”
She scrunched her nose and rubbed her temples harder. “Aren’t you? This morning, I remembered a conversation we had months ago. You told me to meet you in the red barn, today, July 20th, at eight a.m. sharp.”
My stomach dropped. I’d never said that. At least, not yet.
“Forgive me if I’ve forgotten other conversations. My memories were erased,” she admitted quietly. “Some have come back. More arise each day. Others remain hidden in a shadowy place I can’t reach.”
I flattened a hand over my heart. I’d had no idea she’d ever experienced memory loss. “What happened?”
“I wish I knew. But since yesterday, I’ve had flashes. Most revolve around you.” Mom gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, as if reliving one right now. “Yes, yes. You are the Great and Terrible. You saved my life.” Her shoulders rolled in. “My dear husband did not survive the war, however.”
Never mind that Mom recalled a history I hadn’t lived. Never mind that the only explanation involved my return to Hakeldama—and further back in time. Her anguish hit hardest, shredding me. Her husband, King Ahav, was my biological father. A man I’d never gotten to meet.
Treading carefully, I asked, “Are you sure you spoke with me and not someone who just looks like me?”
Her brows lowered, pity filling her eyes. “Were your memories erased, too?”
“In a way,” I replied, because what else could I say?
She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “You told me to bring an elixir of life to free your friend from a cage of metal.”
A cage of metal. My gaze flicked to Jasher beneath the tarp. That had to mean this. Hope flared. “Did you bring it?”
“Is that him?” she asked, ignoring the question and peering behind me. “The executioner?”
“Yes.” My ears twitched. Did I hear… muted growls seeping through the tarp? “I’d love to hear everything we spoke about—after I give him that elixir.”
Back to wringing her fingers. “There’s not much to tell.
Our interactions were always brief. You spoke more with Ahav.
” Her chin trembled. Until her lids narrowed to slits and fury frosted her features.
“You’ve seen the damage the monstra inflict.
I locked up the elixir. Your pet doesn’t deserve to be free. ”
Angry Momma meant stubborn Momma. “He’s not my pet. But can we start at the beginning and work our way to how you arrived in Kansas? Help me understand what’s going on.” We’d circle back to the elixir.
Head high, shoulders back, she waddled a circle around me.
“Soldiers brought you and your creature to the king. You claimed Ian—the beloved and trusted guardian of our armies—betrayed us. No one believed you, but you proved yourself fast. When the end came…when you…” Her eyes glassed with tears.
“You sent me through a door between worlds, and I woke up here with a handful of possessions, including the elixir and a note telling me that my name is Sandra Ori, I’m a widow, I must preserve the elixir, and find Daniel Shaker. ”
My head spun, realization dawning. I did go back, and she had already lived my future.
No wonder Mom considered me a great and terrible oracle. I had seen the future and knew what was coming.
With a little groan, she massaged her lower back. “If we continue this conversation, I must sit. But I’d rather not do it here, near him. Let’s go to the house.”
Leave Jasher?
“He’ll be fine.” Her firm tone allowed no argument. “No one uses this barn.”
He wasn’t fine, but I nodded. I didn’t move away just yet. Rather, I knelt and slipped the tarp from his face. Still metal, but no longer growling.
Caressing his cheek, I whispered, “I’ll come back with that elixir. Everything will be okay.” I needed him to hear it, even if he couldn’t respond.
Tamping down my dismay, I followed my mother outside. The bright sunlight nearly blinded me, but I welcomed the warm, fresh air.
As we made our way through a path cut into the field, my vision adjusted, and I drank in the sights.
A well-loved crop of soybeans stretched as far as my eyes could see, each row lush and green.
Leaves were yellowing, workers busy testing the soil, uprooting weeds, and examining newly developed pods.
They paused and watched us. I recognized a few of them as younger versions of people I’d once known; those who’d stayed with us for years, until my father’s battle with lung cancer forced us to let them go.
My attention returned to my mother, and tides of affection crashed over me.
I adored this woman, who’d lavished me with tender kindness and thoughtful attentiveness the first eight years of my life.
I’d missed her so much. Had stored a thousand questions I wished to ask her.
Had sobbed for her when I’d gotten my first period, shopped for my prom dress, and experienced my first heartbreak.
Why had I not seized the opportunity to tell her who I was in Hakeldama? Why let her believe I was merely some random oracle?
As we neared the farmhouse, nestled within a rolling plain, nostalgia warred with curiosity.
So much was the same, yet different. Whitewashed siding hadn’t yet weathered.
Potted geraniums hung along the wraparound porch, the blooms thriving rather than withered.
Bright blue shutters framed open windows, releasing the heavenly aroma of fresh-baked bread.
The essence of my childhood. My home.
“What will you tell my—your new husband about me?” I asked.
Mom glanced at me over her shoulder, confused. “Daniel is my friend, not my husband.”
So they weren’t married yet. Interesting. “You were at the chapel yesterday with rollers in your hair, as if you were preparing for a special event. I assumed you’d tied the knot.”
“I work there.” She paused for a moment. “When I first arrived in this world, I lacked everything necessary for survival. Daniel helped me. Gave me a place to stay, food to eat. Got me a job.”
“Does Dad—Daniel know you come from a different world?”
“He does. I’ve shared my memories with him as they’ve returned.”
Great. But belief and tolerance weren’t the same thing. Did he believe her, or simply love her enough not to argue?
Wood planks groaned as we climbed the porch steps. Then the sound of hinges joined the chorus, the front door opening.
“There you are,” a familiar voice boomed.
Daddy. A hand fluttered to my throat as I stopped. There he stood, now twenty years younger than the last time I’d seen him. An ox-strong man, cancer free, with a full head of black hair and lively brown eyes.
Worry evaporated from him as he looked over my mother. It didn’t take an expert in psychology to realize he already loved her. Devotion radiated from his pores. Then his gaze slid to me, and he frowned. “And who is this? Other than a woman who looks to be splattered with dried blood.”
I opened and closed my mouth, unable to think up a proper reply.
“Daniel, this is Rye, the oracle I told you about. The one who sent me here and told me to find you.”
He narrowed his lids and puffed out his chest, surprising me. “Are you here to take her back?”
I wished I could reassure him. “Honestly?” I replied. “I don’t know why I’m here.”
He relaxed, but only slightly. “Okay, then. Let’s get you cleaned up and figure it out.”