Chapter 1
KARACHI, PAKISTAN
EMMA AND AMINA EMERGED ONTO a balcony of a clock tower steeple looming over brightly colored umbrellas scattered around a market square. An armed security guard in plain clothes casually stood near an entrance to the square while the two girls peered down on pushcarts and stalls. Pakistanis bustled and bargained for almonds, pistachios, cashews, chickens, lambs, goats, and fresh fish.
A bronze haze hovered over the City of Lights, muting the sea of stark-white high-rises. Nearly a month had passed since Eden’s Star blazed within the chapel on Karābu Island, transporting them to these streets only a few miles from the Arabian Sea.
“No fruit left here either,” Amina pointed out. “Maybe some garlic, if we are lucky.”
“When I prayed over Jack in Nightingale, it was out of desperation—and Elyon heard my prayer. But since we arrived in Karachi, he has not gotten better.” Emma’s amber eyes scanned the marketplace. “He needs an experienced healer.”
“We have traveled here daily since we arrived. No one has appeared.”
“Healers are known to linger near gateways.” From her pocket, Emma retrieved a silver coin etched with a moon and stars. “It is time we revealed ourselves.”
Amina squeezed Emma’s arm. “You have more to consider.”
“Today, we try to save one—then tomorrow, we worry about the others.”
From the steeple they took a flight of stairs down to the market square. As they walked between pushcarts and stalls, their dusty boots kicked up dirt. Emma glanced between vendors and shoppers bargaining for the best deal. Without her gifts, she’d become more cautious, yet strangely her connection to Jack had only grown stronger. She felt his pain and guilt. And she was willing to risk revealing herself as one of the chosen, knowing there was more at stake than losing him. As a child, she’d been taught by the highest Cherub to believe in miracles. But she worried that before her eighteenth birthday, Eden’s Star would vanish in death before the compass led them to the light.
Amina asked under her breath, “Who do we give the coin to, then?”
“Many Cherub follow in the rituals of old.” Emma nodded toward a stall where young goats and lambs were corralled in a pen. “The Eternal speaks of unblemished atonement.”
Amina’s nose wrinkled. “Animal sacrifices are a horrible idea.”
“Most are symbolic these days.” Emma approached a weathered elderly man with a thick graying beard, who was busy tending to one of his goats. “Peace be upon you.”
“Peace also be with you.” His curious stare narrowed as he nodded toward the clock tower. “You never buy, only watch.”
“We are searching for our brothers and sisters.” Pulling her sleeve up, Emma turned her wrist and revealed a symbol. 勇氣. Courage. At the same time, Amina turned her head sideways to reveal an identical tattoo behind her left ear. Watching the man closely, Emma held out the silver coin in the palm of her hand. “Perhaps you are one of us.”
He eyed the silver coin, then stepped back. “I cannot help you.”
“Then make an introduction to someone who will,” Amina pressed.
“A dangerous request.” He glanced past them and continued in a lowered voice. “Since the great Elder’s death, most have remained in Kati Pahari.” He gazed at the coin long and hard. “You must be more careful—Merikh rule Karachi.”
Emma slipped the silver coin into her pocket and leaned in close. “We need a healer.”
“A healer?” His brows raised as he shifted uncomfortably. “You speak of Faizan Khalid.”
“Will we find Faizan in Kati Pahari?” Amina asked.
The man nodded slowly. “He is the one you seek.”
A weak high-pitched noise interrupted them as the young goats and sheep grew agitated in the corral. Emma’s eyes darted around before she noticed two men talking with the security guard at the entrance. The guard pointed in her direction. Stepping back from the stall, she grabbed Amina’s arm and pulled her alongside. They walked briskly through the market, neither one looking back.
“How could anyone possibly know we are here?” Emma whispered.
“This way,” Amina urged. “Quickly.”
A commotion erupted behind them as goats and sheep escaped the corral and scurried through the crowd, the elderly man chasing after them. Emma glanced over her shoulder at the bottleneck where their pursuers struggled to force their way through. Taking advantage of the distraction, Emma and Amina darted between stalls and climbed a rickety wooden ladder. Reaching the top of a wall, they moved swiftly across a ledge as the two men appeared below.
Amina blurted, “We forgot the garlic.”
“That is the least of our worries.”
Concrete exploded behind them, sending fragments scattering across the marketplace. Emma and Amina sprinted along the top of the wall, their steps creeping closer to the edge. Without slowing stride, they leapt off the ledge and slammed against bamboo scaffolding surrounding a Roman Catholic church under renovation. Emma climbed up to an open window and pulled herself through, then helped Amina inside and caught her breath.
Across from the church was a gaping hole in the marketplace wall where the two men stood glaring in her direction. Emma stepped back a split second before a supernatural percussive force ripped through the side of the church. With the floor crumbling beneath her, she chased Amina across the room before bursting into an empty corridor. The force hunted after them as they bounded down the stairs and darted into a main sanctuary that had been totally gutted.
“We are powerless to fight back,” Emma said.
“A day will come,” Amina replied. “But it is not today.”
Exiting through a side door, they found themselves standing in a vacant parking lot. They headed down the street, racing between bulldozers and cranes—as if they were leading Rowell and Crozier in a dance at the Sword and Fan. Traffic flowed steadily across five lanes while Emma flagged down a chingchi—an auto-rickshaw.
“Seven Tides Hostel near Rojhan Street,” Amina instructed the driver as she and Emma slipped into a passenger seat. “Five hundred rupees if you get us there in the next twenty minutes.”
Emma glanced back through a glassless window of the passenger carriage as the chingchi revved and whined through traffic. She watched the men enter the church, knowing she and Amina would never be able to return to Empress Market again.
“At least we have a name,” she whispered.
Amina turned toward her. “Hopefully Faizan Khalid is a true healer.”
Dark clouds loomed over the city as a torrential downpour washed away clues of where they’d been and where they were going. A war waged in the shadows for centuries now left the fate of all who believed in the beating heart of an outlier.
Chapter 2
NEAR KARACHI HARBOUR, across from Shaheed Benazir Bhutto Park, Emma and Amina stepped out from Pranzo Restaurant with their hoodies pulled over their heads. They moved north along Rojhan Street while a deluge of a storm flooded the sidewalk. Streaks of rain crept down their cheeks and dripped off the bridges of their noses. Amina gripped a plastic bag as they escaped into the stale lobby of their hostel while the downpour intensified.
They greeted a young man working behind the counter, then took a stairwell to the second floor and knocked on a door. A moment passed before the door cracked open. Vince peered out cautiously before he pulled the door wide enough for them to slip inside.
The simple living area was sparsely furnished with a cheap lacquered coffee table, wooden chairs, a sofa, and a small flat-screen TV. It opened onto a kitchenette and two bedrooms, but there was only one bathroom—which had proven to be the greatest challenge while Emma, Amina, Vince, Tim, and Jack remained holed up in the hostel for weeks. Their backpacks were lined up near the door beside a garbage bag overflowing with Styrofoam take-out boxes.
“Any luck?” Vince asked, skeptical.
Amina set the plastic bag on the coffee table. “We have the name of a healer.”
“That’s good news.” Vince nodded toward the bedroom. “He’s getting worse.”
Amina grabbed paper plates from a countertop. “We are being hunted.”
“Merikh or Cherub?”
“We do not know who they are or how they found us.” Emma removed her soaked hoodie and laid it over the back of a chair. “But they are closer than we imagined.”
Vince glanced at the plates on the coffee table. “How much cash is left?”
“If we tighten our belts another notch,” Amina quipped, “enough for a fortnight or three.”
Tim looked up from the sofa and turned his tablet around. “Mum and Dad say hello.”
On the screen, Elis and Beca Lloyd smiled warmly. In the bottom right corner of the screen was a Messagezilla icon confirming a secured untraceable connection. Emma, Amina, and Vince huddled around the tablet, peering over Tim’s shoulder.
“It is so good to see you,” Amina said. “Tim has missed you terribly.”
“We have missed him very much, especially today,” Mrs. Lloyd replied. “Of course, each one of you are missed and have remained unceasingly in our prayers.”
“Heard you talking about money,” Mr. Lloyd interrupted. “ We
can wire if needed.”
“Mr. Lloyd, you are so thoughtful,” Amina answered. “But it is too dangerous.”
“Have you heard from my parents?” Emma chimed in. “Are they alive?”
“The highest Cherub are still searching, dear,” Mrs. Lloyd replied. “Many have gone underground, so it is quite possible your mum and dad have done the same.”
“Have you seen Will?” Vince asked. “Has he asked about us?”
“Elis?” Mrs. Lloyd glanced toward Mr. Lloyd, then back to the screen. “Amina, we visited with your parents earlier this morning, and they are remaining strong.”
“Thank you.” Amina’s eyes grew glossy. “Please tell them I love them.”
“Mum, you never said anything to me about going underground,” Tim cut in.
“Much has changed since you have been gone,” Mr. Lloyd answered. “But we are safe.”
“And where are you, exactly?”
A long pause lingered before Mrs. Lloyd replied, “Beacon Hill.”
Her words sucked the oxygen from the room and left everyone speechless until Amina broke the silence. “We thought the school was closed.”
“What has been broken with the Mercy Covenant cannot be undone.” Mr. Lloyd’s brows furrowed. “Frankly, no one seems to know the exact moment when the covenant was broken. Rumors are spreading that it was undone by the Elders many years ago. Regardless, now the highest Cherub are demanding a new circle of Elders be formed. Bickering and arguing among ourselves, seeking vengeance against the one who murdered Peter Leung, and searching for those responsible for the massacre at the Sanctuary of Prayer on Mount Hareh. We were once united; however, these events have caused some to choose the faction as a place to hide.”
Emma’s gaze shifted between the screen and Amina. “Do they know it is Jack?”
“Secrets are never buried deep enough.” Mrs. Lloyd’s gaze turned solemn. “The highest Cherub were given his name by someone within the Merikh. We do not know who that might be, so we are keeping to ourselves for now.”
“He will be proven justified,” Amina reassured. “Truth is on his side.”
“We can only pray the highest Cherub choose to accept it,” Mr. Lloyd warned.
“Since the Mercy Covenant is broken,” Vince said, “why return to Beacon Hill?”
“Exactly what I was going to ask,” Tim blurted. “Mum . . . Dad . . . are you mad?”
“Merikh hunt those believed to be hiding your whereabouts,” Mr. Lloyd answered. “If we remained in Singapore, they would have found us. In these days the world around us is darker, but we are convinced there is a light at Beacon Hill that will protect us.”
“We are grateful to be among those who have found refuge here as we prepare for what lies ahead . . .” Mrs. Lloyd’s voice trailed off.
Vince asked, “Have you seen my mom and dad at Beacon Hill?”
“We know they are staying on their yacht in Repulse Bay,” Mr. Lloyd noted. “Both have questioned the resolve of the HKPF investigation, and they have publicly accused Headmaster Fargher of lying about your disappearance. Understandable, of course.”
“Please don’t tell them anything,” Vince begged. “Less they know, the better.”
“There may come a time when they will need to know, no matter the risk.”
“Have you made any progress?” Mrs. Lloyd asked.
“We are still alive, talking to you.” Tim smirked. “That is progress, I guess.”
Emma glanced toward the bedroom. “Sharing too much creates a greater danger.”
“Well, it is good you are together,” Mrs. Lloyd said warmly. “Watch out for each other.”
“That is the plan.” Tim blinked several times, catching the tears welling up. “Mum and Dad, we have to go, but I will message you in a few days.”
“May your search for answers be greater than your fear,” Mr. Lloyd said. “We love you, Timothy. Your mum and I have never been more proud of you.”
Emma slipped into the bedroom while Tim said goodbye and disconnected Messagezilla. She left the door open as Amina and Vince gathered around the coffee table.
Inside the bedroom, a soft glow illuminated stained paint peeling from a ceiling directly above a curled-up body on the bed. Seated on the edge of the mattress, Emma watched Jack’s shallow breathing then reached out and touched his forehead, which was blazing hot. She ran her fingers across a scar on his brow and continued her touch over deep scars on his forearms from the Temple of the Nephilim. Even though he was drenched in sweat, his body was shivering. Her heartbeat quickened when his pale-blue eyes opened and gazed up at her.
“How are you feeling, Jack?”
“Like I’ve been run over by a train,” he groaned. “A thousand times.”
“Better than yesterday, then,” she mused sadly. “Are you hungry?”
“Let me guess, my favorite . . . catfish and rice.”
Emma helped him out of bed and shouldered his weight. Spread across his bare chest was a crude reminder of Eden’s Star living within him. She helped slip a shirt over his bony body, then supported his weight as he shuffled gingerly toward the living room.
“We need to leave in the morning,” she whispered. “It is no longer safe here.”
“I know,” he grunted. ...
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