Lord King (The King)

“Get the door for you, sir?” said a male voice just outside.

Dammit. The chauffeur. Of course Victor wasn’t going to drive his own car!

A new image flashed in my head: Victor tying me down back at his place, putting a tube down my throat, and crushing my neck with his foot. He wanted to hear me wheezing through the tube as I struggled to breathe.

The man was sicker than I imagined, and this disturbed monster had taken my mother’s life. It was hard to believe someone so worthless had decided how she died.

I snapped from my utterly abstract thoughts, realizing the passenger door was closing. “No. Don’t close the door! Let me out!”

Slam!

I inhaled sharply. King, King! Where the fuck are you? I’m in Victor’s limo.

“Take us to my rooms,” said Victor, speaking to the driver, who slid behind the wheel.

Rooms. He’s taking me to his rooms. King? King? Are you there?

I gazed into Victor’s joyful eyes, knowing I had to get a hold of myself. I had to figure out a way to stay alive.

I’m a Seer. I could ask them for help.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to shut down. I’d never done it on command before, but without King, my sisters were the only ones I could turn to.

The ten women in their brown and blue tunics gathered around a long wooden table, drinking wine from little clay cups. Above them was a mural depicting ancient goddesses riding in chariots through the clouds. The smell of salt and sea filled the air around me, the aroma unlike anything in the modern world. The warm Mediterranean air was cleaner, crisper, and nourished my soul—if that was even possible.

Of course it was. After all, I was standing in a room on the island of Crete, thousands of years before Greece or I ever existed. Still, when I came here, it felt as real as anything in my twenty-first-century life.

I remained standing in the doorway, listening to the women speak. I didn’t know all their names yet, since my visits were always short.

The woman seated closest to me, with two black braids down her back, grabbed a piece of orange fruit—a small persimmon maybe—from a bowl on the table and skillfully angled her knife around the skin. “Circe, I do not understand your lessons as of late,” she said to the old woman with long silver locks, seated at the head of the table furthest from me. “They are dark and pointless.”

As far as I knew, Circe was our elder, the wise woman, but not the leader. I guessed that role had been vacant for a few thousand years since King left.

“Life is dark. Sometimes pointless, too,” replied Circe.

“But we have spent the entire day hearing about a little girl who fell into a ravine while searching for berries. You have told us every detail of her life—her family, the stench of the animals in her barn, the taste of her mother’s cooking. You have told us everything except why we are listening to this.”

Circe narrowed her silvery eyes. “Patience is a virtue, Olmana.” Circe sat up straight and looked at each of the women around the long table. “Olmana feels you are all ready for the question. Does everyone agree?”

The women nodded, and I sighed with relief. Thank God. Hurry up! At this very moment, my body was in a stretch limo with the devil who wanted to turn me into a dark, sadistic fantasy.

“Very well. As you know, the girl is trapped. She has fallen into a ravine while out searching for berries. What should she do?” Circe looked at the woman to her left with light brown hair and a thin build.

“She should carefully examine the cliffs and plan her climb out.”

Circe nodded and then looked at the next woman. “You? What do you think?”

The next woman hemmed and hawed for a moment. “The girl should attempt to gather any vegetation around her and rub two sticks together. If she were to light a fire, someone might find her.”

“She has no sticks. The walls of the ravine are smooth,” said Circe.

“She can yell for help,” said a young brunette seated to the right of Circe.

“There is no one for miles,” Circe explained. “Yelling will do no good.”

“Then it’s out of her hands,” I spouted, trying to rush things along. “If she’s rescued, it’ll be because of luck.”

Everyone in the room turned their heads and glared at me.

“What?” I shrugged. “The girl can’t call out to anyone, signal for help, or climb to freedom. The obvious answer is that it’s not up to her now. Fate will decide what happens next.”

“Jeni, there is a chair for you there, girl.” Circe shifted her eyes to an empty seat across from her. Funny. Now there were eleven chairs. This place was weird. A dream, but nothing like any I’d ever had.