I attempted to stand when he caught my hand.
“Miranda?” he asked.
“She’s safe. I can take you there if you’d like.”
He nodded. His breathing came out labored and uneven. “I thought I was dead,” he said quietly. “I was so certain… ” His voice broke.
After a few measured, deep breaths, he seemed to calm. When he looked up at me, I no longer saw fear in his eyes.
“You have a gift. I never recognized it before, but you understand the inner workings of a person’s mind. You reasoned with Geth when I could not.”
“I’m not sure how much good it did. He’ll still have us followed, and when we find the bloom, all he has to do is take it from us.”
“Yes, but we have our lives.”
“Yes. We do.”
We sat without speaking, listening to the waves, watching the blue sky marred by puffy white jet-trails, thankful to take it all in. I think we both knew how lucky we were to be alive. Finally, Mochazon spoke up.
“There is much to do. I have hidden the bloom, but it will not stay that way for long.”
“Wait—you have it?”
He nodded.
“So you were lying to Geth that whole time?”
“Yes, although if you had not shown up when you did, I do not think I could have held out for much longer.”
“Where is it?”
He shook his head. “I cannot tell you, but soon, I will reveal it to you. There is much to be done. We must discover where the bloom will flourish, and then we must organize a gathering of warriors to accompany you on your mission to restore the magic.”
“What? Me? Aren’t you coming?”
“I cannot. The tree has not chosen me to go on this quest. The journey to restore the magic is yours, Olive. My magic dwindles with the rest of Faythander, but you hold the magic of both worlds. You are the one spoken of in prophecy.”
“How do you know that?”
A haunted look crossed his face. “After Uli’s death, the magic revealed this knowledge to me.”
“So, I’m supposed to restore the magic—even though I have no idea where it will be safe—and I have to do it without you, and with Geth following my every move. No pressure.”
I loved how I always got put into these situations. Hey, can you save the world, please? Oh—and while you’re at it, try not to get killed by the evil baddie. Oh—and there are also some prophecies about you, even though everyone in the world seems to know about them except for you. But, good luck! Yep, no pressure. None at all.
“The tree knew you would have the ability to find its sacred resting place,” Mochazon said. “That is the reason you were chosen.”
“How? Where am I supposed to find this knowledge?”
“Have you no idea?”
I thought of the Faythander texts I’d left in my pack. The three books I’d chosen were the most likely to hold answers to my questions, but since I’d arrived back on Earth, I hadn’t gotten a chance to read them. Looked like I couldn’t avoid it now.
I was determined to find out where the bloom belonged. I couldn’t rest until I knew where to put it. The urgency nagged at me, driving me forward. I helped Mochazon back to my car.
As I buckled up and then cranked the engine, I remembered that I’d promised to check on Mom. Would I have time? I glanced at the clock on the console. It was almost five, which meant we’d have a long drive through the Houston traffic if we left now. Instead, I decided to use my time wisely and intended to pay a visit to the Rosenberg Library.
It was a short drive from the harbor to the library. Tourists stayed away from the island during the winter months, which made navigating down Broadway an easier ordeal than usual. After circling the block, I parked in an empty space, then grabbed my pack and headed for the main entrance. Mochazon followed me.
Mature oak trees lined the sidewalk, their sprawling branches overshadowing our path. The air was still; only the sound of our footsteps crunching stray acorns broke the silence. Despite the calm weather, my urgency to find the bloom’s resting place made me walk with quick steps.
We headed up the stairs leading to the main entrance. I’d heard that this was the oldest operating library in Texas, which didn’t surprise me. The building was a well-maintained, three-story affair with ornate Renaissance-style architecture. Its age showed in the oxidized bronze statue of Mr. Rosenberg resting at the bottom of the granite stairs, and in its old-world, pillared entrance.
As we entered through the heavy oaken doors, the scent of time-worn paper greeted me. We wandered through the stacks and up a spiral staircase. I found an empty table near the back of the room where we could study in peace, away from prying eyes.
Mochazon sat across from me as I pulled the books out of my bag and stacked them on the table.
“Are you sure we are safe here?” Mochazon said as his eyes darted.
“We’re safe nowhere. But I doubt Geth will come after us right now.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because he’s waiting for us to find the bloom for him.”
Mochazon stiffened. “He will never have it.”
“I agree, but he seems to think he can make us do the dirty work for him and then take it whenever he chooses. As of right now, I’m not sure how to stop him. Here,” I scooted a book to him, “if you want to keep Geth away from the bloom, then help me find where it belongs.”
He eyed the book. I’d given him the copy of Ancient Isles of Faythander and had kept Dragon Hoards of the Lost Islands and
