Chapter 37
James pushed himself to his feet, slightly unsteady. His head pounded incessantly, most likely due to the fact that he had just nearly drowned. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. He was here. He had beaten Calico.
A small stone bridge rose from the water, leading to the platform holding the Chintamani Stone. He made his way toward it, edging around the cave wall, cautious. Had Roerich devised any more tests? His gut told him no, that this was it. But he moved slowly nonetheless.
He stepped onto the bridge. It was pressed stone, clearly man-made. That made him more confident. It was the first true sign that he was following in Roerich’s footsteps, not chasing a ghost. He could imagine the old Russian philosopher walking these steps and placing the stone in what he hoped would be its final resting place.
It was a long walk to the middle, and he made it slowly. Each step brought him closer to the stone. It shone bright, a beacon in the dark, beckoning him forward. He saw now that the green light wasn’t static; it moved slightly, flickering like a flame. It made the stone seem like more than a stone. It made it seem alive.
He reached the center platform. The pillar in the middle was made of dark stone and shaped like a large goblet. A Makara was engraved on the base, its tongue sticking out through a snarling mouth. Below it, words were scrawled in a language James didn’t recognize.
He looked down at the Chintamani Stone. It was the size of an apple, perfectly round. Its surface was glassy, and clouds seemed to swirl in its depths, a tempest within. A storm that had the power to shake the world.
As he stared into its swirling depths, he saw what would happen if he touched the stone. One touch and he’d gain its powers. One touch and his life would change forever. Wasn’t that what he’d always wanted?
At that moment, everything seemed to fall away around him—the cavern, Nepal, Calico, all of it. It was just James and the stone. So close. One touch and he’d become who he was always meant to be. Memories flashed before him, as vivid as if they’d happened yesterday. He remembered falling from a broken rope swing. Leaping off a tanker in the middle of the ocean. Jumping from the abandoned town hall building. Each time, Derek had swooped in to save him.
He remembered Derek standing on a stage while James watched from the roaring crowd. He remembered countless family gatherings and dinners where the only topic of conversation was Derek and his accomplishments. Where James melted into the background, no better than an empty seat.
And he remembered the times when Derek wasn’t there and James could do nothing to protect himself or those around him. He remembered leaving Katie and Rocky in Calico’s clutches because all he could do was run. He remembered the squeal of tires, the explosion of metal. His father’s broken body.
For his whole life, he’d been inadequate. No more.
His hand reached for the Chintamani Stone.
“Stop.”
A voice cut through the cavern, quiet and deadly. It cleared James’s head, sending his thoughts cascading like a collapsed building. His hand was still extended over the stone. What was he doing?
He turned and faced Calico.
Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to see the Super standing at the other end of the bridge. He was clad in all black, his face as cool as stone, expressionless. It was never meant to be easy.
“I believe that stone belongs to me,” Calico said, taking a few steps forward. “Step aside.”
James stayed where he was, keeping his body between Calico and the stone. He still felt groggy from staring at it. Had those thoughts been his? He wanted to blame them on the strange power of the stone, but he knew they were his own; those feelings of resentment and inadequacy that he’d spend years trying to repress.
“How’d you find me?” James asked, trying to buy time. His mind was split in two. One part urged him to turn around and grab the stone, to take his destiny. The other part searched for a way out of this cavern. Run or fight. Why were those always the two options?
“When Roche told me you escaped his clutches, I was furious,” Calico said, taking a few more steps forward. He was well onto the bridge now. “But when he learned you were going to the Shanti Stupa, I knew you had found it.”
James was thrown off. “Roche is working for you?” he said, genuinely stunned.
“Oh, yes. When I told him of the power I could give him, he came easily to my side. The promise of power corrupts all, as our friend Nicholas Roerich put so succinctly.”
James glanced at the pedestal behind him, where the writing was etched into the base. He had a feeling that was exactly what it said.
Suddenly, it clicked. All this time, James had wondered why Roerich had gone through all this effort to hide the stone. Did he not want it for himself? The promise of power corrupts all. Poignant words from a man purposefully leaving that promise behind. It must have been about more than just hiding it from others. James had a feeling that even Roerich himself couldn’t fight the desire. He couldn’t trust himself with it, yet he understood its dangers. So he had it locked away, perhaps with puzzles designed by others, so even he himself couldn’t find it.
James’s delusions of grandeur melted away around him, and he saw them as just that—delusions. He didn’t want any of that, not truly. Sure, sometimes he felt jealous of his brother, who stood on top of the world, could perform amazing feats, and had the love and adoration of millions. But what had that love and adoration brought him? Where were his screaming fans now that he was an outcast trapped in a prison, powerless?
As James
