Page 70 of Into Darkness (Night Prowler 6)
“I wish we could take credit for it, but the Dalai Lama said that.” He laid his wrinkled hand on the book he’d been reading, which lay on the table beside his bowl of stew. “He’s one of my favorites. The Great Spirit moved through him like wind over water; he was very wise. But a terrible dresser.”
After a beat of surprised silence, Lu laughed. James joined her, the old man sent her a toothy grin, even Magnus cracked a smile. Nola rolled her eyes and sighed.
After that, the conversation rolled smoothly. Lu found out that Grandfather, James, and Nola were Cherokee, one of many minority groups from the disbanded United States who’d fled to Europe after the Flash when the US suspended the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. The Federal Emergency Management Agency set up detainment camps for Dissenters and suspected “enemies of the state,” and they’d seen the writing on the wall. Hoping Europe would be better, they’d settled first in London.
“Which, as we all know, turned out to be a total disaster,” said James, who relayed that he was only eight years old at the time. Nola was his mother’s sister, who’d been killed in the chaos, as his father had been.
Lu grew uncomfortable at this talk of death, her guilt at being the instigator of the Flash rising like bile to leave a sour taste in her mouth, until Nola said something that jarred her.
“. . . Thorne took full advantage. He was just looking for the right opportunity to start his war. The Flash gave him the perfect stepping-off point.”
Lu sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”
“Sebastian Thorne was trying to orchestrate conflict for years before the Flash. He knew that nothing unifies people like war, or a common enemy. He also knew that war creates incredible pockets of opportunity for those willing to do anything in the grab for power. And what he wanted, ultimately, was power. On a global scale. So he took the isolated incident of the Flash, and with clever manipulation and propaganda, turned it into a coup of every government on the planet.”
In response to Lu’s blank expression, Nola explained patiently, “Look, the Flash caused instability, but the world had seen a lot worse before that. Stock markets would’ve recovered, things would’ve eventually settled down. But Thorne started dropping bombs and pointing fingers. He was already an influential man, even then—a very rich man—who’d been stockpiling weapons all over the place. So when the missiles started flying from Iran and Russia and the United States, everyone blamed everyone else, and it devolved rapidly from there. In the space of a few weeks, everything collapsed. The entire world was chaos. And out of the ashes rose Sebastian Thorne and his oh-so-ironically named Phoenix Corporation, swooping in to save the day.”
Lu sat back in her chair, stunned. “If this is common knowledge, why doesn’t everyone rebel? Why hasn’t someone tried to get to him before?”
“I never said it was common knowledge.” Nola rose to clear the empty bowls. “The Dissenters know it, of course, but to everyone else Sebastian Thorne is the man who single-handedly saved the world.”
James amended wryly, “And then made its entire population captive dependents.”
“Even the strongest people eventually grow to love their chains,” said Grandfather. His warm gaze met Lu’s. The hint of a smile touched his lips. “Unlike wild animals, who can never be tamed, no matter how long they’re kept in captivity.”
But you already know that, don’t you, Tsulahisanvhi?
He was still gazing at her with that scant, clever smile as her jaw dropped.
How did you know you could talk to me this way?
Grandfather’s smile deepened. Old people know a great many things the young aren’t interested in.
I’m interested, Lu thought firmly. And frankly I’m not that young.
Grandfather shrugged, pulling a face. Everything’s relative. When you get to be my age, a midlife crisis looks about the same as a toddler’s tantrum, which looks about the same as early onset dementia.
Midlife crisis? I’m only twenty-five!
In my day, twenty-five was midlife. Especially for a woman. Strike that—twenty-five would’ve been an old maid. The medicine man of our tribe would’ve prescribed a strong tea of boiled bull testicles and tomcat urine to clear away all those cobwebs and tumbleweeds in your uterus so you could maybe still attract a man and have a family.
Lu scowled at him. Good thing I wasn’t born in your day, then. By the way, it must’ve been exciting when fire was first discovered, right? And when the wheel was invented? Those must’ve been good times!
Grandfather grinned, lighting his entire face. Ah, Tsulahisanvhi. You don’t disappoint.
There was that word again. Su-la-he-SAN-vee. Frustrated with the silent conversation, Lumina said aloud, “Hey, James? What does Tsulahisanvhi mean?”
Into the kitchen sink Nola dropped the bowls with a clatter, turning to stare.
Sounding more than a little confused, James said slowly, “Uh, well, I’m not such an expert with the Cherokee language, but I think it means . . . Resurrected One.”
Silence reigned, until Nola broke it, her voice cutting. “Where did you hear that word, Lumina?”
“Oh, I think I read it in some old, moldy, irritating book,” she answered lightly, watching with aggravation as the smile on the old man’s face grew bright as the sun.
Okay, Grandfather. We need to talk. And it’s not about the dust bunnies in my uterus.
I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, little dragon, but first you have to find me.
