The Fortune Teller(64)

The next morning the family sat down at the table and had breakfast. Galina puttered around the kitchen, humming the same tune. When Nettie’s father left for work, she ran to the door and hugged him longer than usual.

“What’s this, Solnyshko?” He laughed. “I’m not going on a trip. I’ll see you at supper.”

“Yes, Papa.” Still, she squeezed him harder and tried not to cry. Solnyshko, Little Sun, was his nickname for her. She would never hear it again.

After he had gone, she returned to the table and sat down to wait. Sergei read the paper over coffee. Kezia sat quietly, holding her cards on the table.

Nettie watched her grandmother’s fingers twitch; it was the only sign that Kezia was bothered. A sliver of sunlight pushed through the blinds and illuminated them in a golden light.

To know when a moment will become the last is a painful burden. Nettie bathed in those final seconds, feeling her family’s love and wishing she could stop time forever. Then she blinked and life continued its tick forward. The moment had ceased.

A sharp knock came at the door.

Suddenly half a dozen state security men were swarming the room. They spoke in a chaotic rush of words, each one a cataclysm.

“Come with us!” “You are arrested!” “You don’t need anything!”

Galina screamed as a man dragged Sergei out of the room like a sack. They took her next, kicking hysterically. She reached out for Nettie. “My daughter!”

“Mama!” Nettie cried. But Kezia held on to her, placing her cards in Nettie’s hand.

“What about the girl?” one of the men asked, motioning to Nettie.

“Too old for the orphanage. Bring her.”

“That would be a mistake,” Kezia said in a strong voice. She maneuvered Nettie in front of her and anchored her there. “My granddaughter is a psychic, even more powerful than Messing! She can tell anyone their future—even Stalin!”

The name Messing had the desired effect. Wolf Messing was considered the most powerful psychic in the world. He had escaped Germany, where Hitler had put a price on his head for predicting the outcome of the war. Messing had sought refuge in the Soviet Union, even though Stalin publicly condemned psychics to bolster the country’s new atheism. But in reality the government continued to study psychic events. They simply moved their paranormal research underground, where it was conducted in secret and controlled by the KGB. Wolf Messing was the only psychic Stalin acknowledged openly, while he searched the four corners of the country to find others just as powerful.

Kezia had just made Nettie valuable in their captors’ eyes.

“Wait here,” the man ordered. He left to talk to the commanding officer.

Kezia brought Nettie’s hands to her lips and kissed them. The time they had both foreseen had come.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Nettie cried.

“But you must.” Kezia held firm and gathered enough strength for both of them. “Don’t cry. Don’t call out. Do as they say.” She squeezed Nettie tightly. “We are in the devil’s den now. But you shall live through it. You will.”

Nettie held on to her until the officer returned.

“Come with me.” He forced them apart, yanking Nettie down the stairs. Another guard led Kezia behind them.

Outside, Nettie saw her family standing in line behind an army truck. She could hear her mother’s cries. Nettie climbed into the back of a different truck, and the guard ordered her to wait. She watched an officer place her grandmother and grandfather in one line and her mother in another.

Nettie’s truck shifted into gear and lurched forward, driving away. She furiously blinked back tears to keep her vision clear. She had to see them.

Her family kept their eyes on her, never wavering, as if they could stay connected forever. Nettie watched the distance extend between them, like a ribbon about to be cut.





The Devil

The manuscript ended there.

Semele wiped the tears from her eyes, unable to believe that was it. There had to be more pages missing. There had to be.

Someone had defiled the manuscript. Someone had cut out the ending.

She felt bereft. The culprit could have been anyone over thousands of years of history: a copyist with an opinion, a religious clergyman intent on editing works, a government official from a new empire whose job it was to censure—the possibilities were endless. She shook her head in frustration. It could even have been whoever broke into her hotel room.

Now she understood why someone would break into Kairos to steal this manuscript. Ionna had predicted the rise of Stalin and both world wars with the detail of a historian looking forward instead of back. This memoir was truly a journey through time, spanning two thousand years.

A deep shiver ran down her spine as she thought back to Kezia and Nettie’s story. The whole family must have died. Where had the guard taken Nettie? Now she would never know. Finishing Ionna’s manuscript had only burdened her with more questions. There was no resolution.

Semele rubbed both of her temples, feeling a splitting headache coming on. She thought about the package her parents had received when they adopted her. She needed to find it tomorrow.

Her eyes grew heavy, and she was unable to escape sleep any longer. She reached over to turn out the light and looked at the dream stone on the nightstand, struck by the timing of Macy’s gift. It sat there like a message, a reminder. Dreaming was the one thing she had always tried to avoid—because her dreams always brought answers, answers she didn’t necessarily want. But she needed them desperately now.