Chapter 1
The Graveyard Eden
The small village of Navarre held one graveyard, and even though the citizens thought themselves not prone to idle gossip, there were plenty of occasions when the Graveyard of Eden was said to be “haunted”. With all of its large stone statues and elaborately carved tombs the graveyard carried a type of forced reverence upon all that entered its surrounding rod iron gates. The rare passerby would take glimpses of the hollowed grounds, but they stayed their distance when the setting sun left deep shadows that rolled across the grass and cobblestone walkways. Even the residents in Navarre, who would go to Eden to remember loved ones lost, didn’t linger. And the Graveyard of Eden would close her gates every night at ten o’clock to keep the peace for those who rested there.
It happened once before, people began to say about the great lightning storm that hit about a decade prior. The town lost power for days and businesses shut down. Neighborhoods were left flooded. The graveyard Eden had shown the worst aftermath; tombs were left cracked and broken and large patches of grass were scorched off the ground. The storm even claimed five lives; all directly outside the cemetery gates.
Three days after the storm, a local found a child in an open grave. Though comatose, dehydrated, and her hair left stark white from what must have been a lightning strike, she was still alive. The girl was taken to the hospital and remained there during the weeks it took to clear rubble and replant the grass. It wasn’t until the graveyard’s gates were opened to the public that the girl was released to at home care.
Since that frightening storm, Ohio’s bad weather had passed by the town. Eden’s grounds had lain quiet during that time.
It was a shock to all when statues started to fall over and the faces of the artistic tombs were being smashed into rubble over night. There was no forced entry on the locked gate. Everyone knew that there was no way to climb the tall and narrow fence that protected the grounds. And still, as it were, the graves continued to be vandalized. Talk on how to keep the Graveyard of Eden safe circulated from house to house. In the end the village turned to their trusted watchmen.
Harold Rasmussen was a large man with a gentle smile. He had combed over grey hair that he had cut every month at the nearby barber school. He was a humbly dressed man that normally had some kind of dessert stain on his loosely tucked shirts. Harold was in his late sixty’s and yet he still had a soft hint of a childhood stutter. He was well liked and enjoyed his social outings playing bingo in the church on Drover Street. If anyone could have talent at bingo, it was Harold and nobody seemed to mind his luck when he would win the bingo money pot every month.
They knew that most of his winnings ended up going to their children and grandchildren anyways. Harold was known to spend his earnings, and much of his retirement money, buying treats from the dairy for the neighborhood children.
Most people thought he was a good friend to have around; he would take homemade lunches to the widows around his block, he would dye hundreds of Easter eggs every year for the Navarre Easter Egg Hunt-a-Rama, and he would plow the snowy narrow roads with his truck in the early hours of the morning after a blizzard would pass through.
He was also one of the most respected watchmen of the Navarre-Massillon neighborhood watch. He presided over every meeting the watch held in the last forty-some years and over these last few months, it wasn’t rare for Harold to hear people talk about the strange things that were happening in the local graveyard.
The villagers started to spread news about a new gang that was begging to form. But these whispers didn’t bother Harold. The rumors that were getting on his nerves were the ones about ghosts. He didn’t waste his time talking about make believe and he didn’t believe in the paranormal.
Not everyone was on the same line with Harold, there was one woman in particular that seemed to believe in any story that involved the paranormal, and that was Mary Satoh. Mary was the village’s herbalist and seemed to know a lot of history about the graveyard. She would share stories with anyone who would listen while she talked about ghosts that wandered the cemetery at night. In her store on Wednesday nights she would have sharing time. Children would sit on her special circle rug and quietly eat popsicles while Mary would share a tales of make believe. The overly imaginative things that Mary could think up always took Harold by surprise.
Oddly enough, Harold and Mary were kind of a couple. Though Harold didn’t agree with Mary’s enthusiasm in the supernatural, she would tell one story that made Harold laugh every time. The story was about a ghost that only spoke through a hand puppet. It wasn’t the story that brought his laughter; it was the sound of Mary’s voice as she tried to speak with a British accent.
Harold couldn’t believe his luck in fining Mary at such a late age. During the years that his college friends started to settle down he wondered why he never found his soul mate. Instead of marriage Harold joined the war and decided that he would hold his fire on marriage, little did he know that he would wait until the ripe age of 59 to find the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Mary was everything he’d been looking for.
Mary was not as open about her feelings towards Harold as he was about her, she would never confirm if they were in a relationship, but people could tell that she loved him too. She would bring over her old family medicines to his house whenever his joint pain would act up. She helped him with his gardening every summer and often cooked him dinner with the delicious harvest that they grew together in his back yard. They were always with each other and they were rarely seen around town without being hand in hand.
Mary’s father had been buried in Eden and Harold took her there a couple times a week to walk by the tomb and pay their respects. Although Mary’s father passed away long ago she never missed an opportunity to go. On a breezy morning in March, they found that her father’s tomb had been violently smashed, leaving shards of stone scattered about the grounds. Since her father’s resting place was the largest tomb there, the mess was substantial, the expertly carved tomb that was well known by all, now broken and scattered.
The only thing left upright was an artistically carved statue of an angel. It stood royally with weapons and jewelry; wearing a triangular pendant around his neck, his wrists held thick bracelets, across his palms he held a thin sword, he still stood an untouched warrior. The statue looked powerful and honored to be standing by the ruined tomb he had been protecting. A few feet away from the angel stood a stone pillar that marked the center of the graveyard. Without the tomb standing next to it the pillar, the angel looked strangely out of place.
Mary picked up a small gold cylinder out of the rubble, whipped off the dust and held it close to her chest. She leaned against the pillar looking winded.
“Mary,” Harold said, “I’m so sorry th-that this happened.”
Mary looked at the statues face without blinking. Tears were sliding silently down her rounded cheeks. Harold watched as they fell leaving dark circles on her red scarf. Harold spoke softly, “I know we can have this fixed. We can make it exactly like it u-used to be. I’m sure that we have a picture of it somewhere.”
Mary didn’t reply but her gaze followed the angel’s downward glance to the long sword. Mary reached out and trailed the sword with her gloved fingertips.
“I’m sure Jared Hales could fix up a new tomb for us by next summer.” Harold continued, “He is the best sculpture on the east side. I can call him tonight to see if he c-can-”
“It can’t be fixed.” Mary interrupted softly. Her voice sounded sad and absolute.
Harold leaned over and took Mary’s small hand in his. “Mary, I’ll make this right.” He promised.
Mary lifted her gaze from the angel’s sword and looked into Harold’s face; a soft smile lifted the corners of her lips. “I need to get home.” She said, “I have to make some calls.”
“Calls about the tomb?” Harold asked.
Mary nodded.
“I can make the calls if you don’t feel up to it Mary.” Harold suggested.
“I think I should do it. But I would love some company.” Mary said giving Harold’s hand a gentle squeeze.
*
Mary made many calls through out the day; all were of people that Harold had never heard of. Probably some distant family members in Japan, he wasn’t surprised to hear Mary speak Japanese on some of the calls – only her immediate family lived in Ohio. Yet, he was surprised by the calls when he heard her speak French on three calls and once in Spanish to a man named Javier. Harold loyally stayed by her side and made sure that her untouched tea never chilled.
He left her that late afternoon with a long hug.
*
Harold’s phone rung after a particularly loud thunder clap on March twenty ninth, He answered Mary’s call. She said she needed to leave town for a few days.
“Would you like a travel partner?” Harold thought of the passport he hadn’t used in years. He walked towards his nightstand to look for it.
“No, that’s ok,” she said with a pause, “It’s not really something that would interest you.”
“Oh?” He said. “I’m sure where ever you want to go would be just fine with me.”
“I’m going to go and see,” she moved the phone to her other ear, “some family.”
“I didn’t know that you had so m-many family members. I guess I’ve only heard about your family here.”
“They’re not close relatives, but they will help me figure out what to do with the tomb.”
“What to do with it?”
“Yes, they might want to move it. I just want to make sure that we all agree on the location. It might take a while to decide. Harold?” Mary paused again.
“Yes?”
“Will you see if Hales can design a new tomb, just in case we are keeping it here?”
“I already called him.”
“Good, that’s good. I’m sorry Harold, but I have to get going.”
“Well call me if you n-need anything. I’ll just be at home picking out some good spots for our tomato seeds and waiting to hear from you.” He put the found passport back in the drawer.
“Harold…I love you.”
“I love you too.” Harold replied simply. There was no noise coming from the other end of the line. “Mary, are you ok?”
“Yes, I’m ok,” Her voice sounded hesitant, “Harold; I want you to watch out for that graveyard.”
Harold gave a small laugh. “Don’t worry about it. Everything w-will be fine.”
“I mean it; please just keep a watch out. I have a really bad feeling.”
“I will Mary.” He insured. “Do you want to talk while you pack?”
“I’m already packed. I’m traveling light.”
“You’re already packed? This must be important.”
“It is Harold.” She had tears in her voice, “I’ll miss you.”
“I already miss you. Have a safe trip sweetheart. Call me when you can.”
*
Harold’s willingness to serve his local community over the past years gave him rank over the coveted phone tree directory. The next morning he called every volunteer listed and set up the next Navarre-Massillon Neighborhood Watch gathering.
With a couple meetings over the next few days, having developed well thought out plans over some pot luck snacks, they decided to have a volunteer patrol the Graveyard of Eden every night until the culprit was caught.
Most of the watchmen were afraid to walk Eden at night, what with all of the ghost stories that have been floating around, but there were still a few who volunteered to take turns with a night shift. The members of the neighborhood watch looked in awe as Harold raised his hand to volunteer for every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night.
A calendar was drawn up with everyone’s shift listed for the next month. Today being the last day in March, and a Friday, Harold took a few lemon bars for the road and drove to the Graveyard equipped with the gate keys and one overlarge yellow flashlight.
*
Harold pulled up to the old shed in the back of the cemetery. He brushed cobwebs off the inventory list that was nailed to the inner wall and searched for something to help clear out the broken rubble. The zipper on his Neighborhood Watch jacket rebelliously slid down allowing the night air to sneak in and bring a chill.
Mandy Schroder had made all of the Navarre – Massillon Neighborhood Watch jackets for those that would patrol at night. Even with the color of green being overly bright in the day, the color would grow oddly dull under the moonlight; giving no reflective protection to the passing cars in the neighborhood. The back of the jacket was covered with the letters spelling out “N-M, Watchers” in large black letters adding to the dullness of color a camouflaged look. Mandy made Harold’s jacket “extra roomy in the tummy region” which probably why the zipper never stayed in place. Harold zipped his jacket and started to pull out tools that would help him clear the grounds.
He made a deal with Jared that he would have the mess cleared up by sunrise; that way Jared could measure the ground in the morning and start working on a design for the new tomb.
Harold pushed an empty three-wheeled barrel along the hilly pathways until he reached the out skirts of the broken rubble. The wheels rolled smooth and quiet across the lush ground and came to an easy stop beside the center pillar of the cemetery.
Looking down, Harold found a piece of granite that used to be the keystone of the tomb’s archway. It was missing a large chunk of the inscription, but Harold had a great memory, and after reading it so many times before he knew what it had said:
“The Satoh family destiny does not lie here, but exists beyond this point of resting. Not even death can remove the bonds of this family. When one shall fall, one will rise to redeem what’s worth saving. EMG”
Harold laid the plaque into the bottom of the barrel with a sorrowful sigh. He started to work; putting jagged rocks and broken slabs of stone on top of the keystone. When the barrel started to fill up Harold’s back began to feel the weight of what he had been lifting. It was not long before he had to take a break and stretch his sore muscles.
He took a smooched treat out of his jacket pocket and lifted the sticky napkin away from the bar. He took a bite of the zesty snack and chewed contentedly. Looking across the cemetery he realized that this was the first time that he had been to the cemetery’s center with out Mary.
“I miss you Mary.” He said to the quiet.
He crumbled the napkin and threw it in the barrel and wiped his sugary hands on his pants pockets. Harold gazed up into the splotchy sky with his hands held on his hips. The cool humid air felt good on his warm face. He stared, watching a cluster of grey clouds that were floating lightly across the midnight sky. The moon was a perfect half crescent and glowed in its smooth celestial light.
A cold breeze blew over Harold’s shoulders and he shivered.
“It’s perfect.” An unfamiliar voice made Harold jump. “I must have it.” Harold turned around to face the direction of the voice and was blind sighted by the wide pillar that stood in the graveyard.
He leaned his body around the column about to ask who was there, but then he saw whom was talking.
She was the most beautiful woman Harold had ever seen.
Her body was tall, slim and feminine. Her skin was a flawless white under the inky sky. Her arms and long neck shined in contrast against the dark Purple dress that she was wearing. The material was blowing around her as if it was abnormally light.
Harold’s eyes caught the neckline that plunged down her pale torso to rest almost at her hips. Her pale lips where full and curved up into a large smile. Even with her powder white skin, the most shocking part about this woman was her hair. It was ruby red and fell fluidly across her back. Harold thought of blood on snow.
Harold wasn’t sure how long he was looking at her, but he was shaken out of his trance by another cold breeze.
It seemed out of nowhere another person stood next to her. A tall man, someone that Harold had known very well over the years.
Why was he here at this time of night?
Harold was not a nosey man and didn’t want to eaves drop on his friend, but he should know better than being in the graveyard after hours. Harold took a step beside the pillar accidentally nudging a rock with his boot. The noise was minute, but not entirely unnoticeable.
The man standing next to the beautiful women looked in Harold’s direction and a look of pure terror sparked across his face for a brief moment, he subtly held a halting hand in Harold’s direction. It was gone as quickly as it came. The tall man turned back to the women. “It will never be yours Eris.” He said calmly.
The women looked from the statue and glared at the man darkly.
He continued, “The angel looks away from you. Don’t you see? The angel is still looking down.” He spoke to the woman in a low voice. “You have to leave; there is no chance that you can take it. Staying here will only harm our plan”
The women in the flowing dress walked slowly up to the man.
“Our plan?” She questioned. “Are you going to try to stop me, my grace?” She smiled at him and put her hand on his cheek. Even though his skin was bleached out by the moonlight her hand paled in comparison – she looked as though she was glowing.
“No. You know that I’m on your side.” He said a little breathless as he held her hand against his face. His eyes closed and after a minute he started to breathe evenly once more. “But it is impossible to take it without the angel’s permission. The seer said that it had to be given to a mortal.”
Her hand clawed his face as she drew it from him repulsed. “You mean to say that no Fallen can take it.” She paused for his reply.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, no Fallen or Angel can take it without permission. The seer said that only a mortal child can be given the gift.” He continued, “One of privilege.”
A small chuckle filled the graveyard with an eerie chill.
Harold had never heard anything like that in his entire life. Her laugh made his blood turn cold. His heart felt as though it was beating out of his chest as a cold sweat broke across his brow. He had experiences like this before when he was in war, his sixth sense of fight or flight. His entire body told him that he needed to leave as fast as he could.
Harold slid behind the pillar and searched for the gate keys. His shaky hands pulled them out of his jacket pocket with a small jingle.
“One of privilege.” she sneered, “Yes, well we will just have to wait for that one to step foreword. It seems that the Satoh’s are providing more and more options for the angel.” She laughed again.
Harold started at Mary’s last name.
She continued, “I’ve watched them all and none are match for me.”
The man placed his hand on the woman’s arm trying to lead her away from the statue. “When the time comes we’ll take it from the chosen one, and then it will all be yours.”
“Wrong, you will kill the chosen one, and then take it. It is the only way to make sure that it is mine forever. The seer made that clear.” The women stared into the man’s eyes. “Am I understood?”
“Yes, Eris I understand you perfectly.” He answered.
“The tomb has been broken. It seems as though a thanks is in order. Even though the chosen one is not here to offer their blood in offering, someone else has come to help.” She said.
“Eris, you have already shown your thanks in abundance. If there is any blood shed here tonight, you be sending a warning to the Satoh’s.”
Harold heard the women laugh the same awful way as before. It was too high pitched and it seemed to carry its own echo. The sound was not human.
“Thanks are always in order. Tonight will not be my first sacrifice to obtain this gift, but it will be a significant one. I will let them be warned. The Satoh’s deserve a warning; I am being most kind. Of course, they should have the choice to flee if they want. There is no need for them to die fighting for something that isn’t even theirs yet.”
Harold couldn’t understand what he was hearing, but he was sure that Mary would be able to. He had to warn her family to leave town.
Harold took one step forward but almost ran into the woman that was now standing in front of him. He jumped, dropping his keys on the stony path.
Up close she was beyond stunning. Her body was so smooth that it was as though every angel of her had been drawn by a master artist, her soft face painted perfect white and without blemish. Even though Harold felt he had to run, he had a strong urge to touch her face, but he couldn’t move. He became locked her intense gaze.
In the same night that he saw the most beautiful thing he also saw the foulest. Her eyes were staring directly into his, and they were a diseased green. They looked as though they belonged to the corpse of a drowned victim. But they were still moving; they looked deranged and wild.
She had taken his hand and held it painfully against the statue by the pillar, pinning him. She was so strong. “You are clearly not the one.” She said with a high chuckle as she reached her other hand to slowly caress his check. “But you will be perfect to help me show gratitude on this night.”
*
A loud shrilling ring woke Lily Tippin out of a deep sleep. Her arm fumbled across her nightstand knocking her favorite book noisily to the floor. It landed spine up and lay completely flat. She hoped it didn’t fold one of the pages under the pressure. Her hand hit a familiarly hard surface and she tightened her stiff fingers around the phone.
“Hmphello?” she muttered, pushing snowy white hair off of her face. The cold plastic stung her warm cheek.
“Lily! Have your heard? Did you hear what happened?” a voice cried through the telephone.
Lily looked up at her clock through one squinted eye. Clearing her throat she stated the obvious. “It’s 6:10.”
“Wake up Lily! It horrible, something so awful happened. Harold has been murdered. It’s all over the news. A reporter is on the TV, she keeps talking about his loyalty to the neighborhood watch and how Navarre has a serial killer on the loose. There were two other murders last night in Massillon. There are police everywhere. And I mean police; there are tons here from all over Stark County.”
Her best friend Shelly knew to never call her early on a Saturday. What was she thinking? Saturday morning and the majority of Saturday afternoon was time for Lily to make up for lost sleep during the last week.
“Harold?” Lily muttered.
“Yes. Harold, he’s been murdered. Jared Hales found his body at the graveyard this morning. Well not just in the graveyard, Lily, his body was in an open grave. Like the murderer took the time to put him in a grave and then just left him there.” Shelly sounded like she was crying. “Lil, his face was missing.” She was talking so fast that she was stumbling over her words.
Lily sat up in bed letting her bundled warmth leak out of the blankets. The fresh cool air was helping her to wake up. An open grave? Lily felt a slow shiver roll down her spine.
Shelly continued, “His whole face was gone, his head was still there, but his face… his face…” she was crying.
“Wooo.” Lily tried making a scary ghost noise into the phone but her morning voice was still very rough and she chocked mid try.
Instead she chose to be serious.
“Shelly, it’s freaking early and that is seriously messed up. Harold has been like a grandpa to you and you know what he is like to me.” Lily continued, “Making up a story like this is beyond over the line. Harold in an open grave? Really?” Lily could hear someone making whimpering noises in the background.
“I’m not making this up Lil.” Shelly said, “Harold was murdered last night. We want you to come over here, there’s so much that we need to tell you. You’re not safe being alone.”
Lily realized the whimpering noises in the background was Shelly’s little sister Katrina. Wow, Shelly pulled out all of the stops this year. Katrina sounded like she was really upset.
“Shelly! What are you doing?” Lily could hear Shelly’s mother yelling in the background. Ha! Shelly will get it now.
“Ha, ha, April Fools to you too Shelly. Good night, err, morning. Have fun getting grounded by your mom.” Lily hung up the phone with annoyance and pulled her blanket up over her face. Before the blanket could push all of the cool air out of her make-shift cocoon, the phone let out another ring.
“Shelly,” Lily said as she picked up the phone, “it’s not funny.”
“Lily, darling,” it was Amaya, Shelly’s mother “I’m so sorry to bother you so early in the morning.” She sounded weary.
“Umm, it’s ok Miss Satoh, what’s going on?” Lily replied taken a little off guard opening her eyes for the first time.
“Well,” Amaya said, “I told Shelly to wait to call you until later, but since you’re up, I just wanted to invite you over. I know that your father is out of town and I didn’t think that you would want to be alone this morning. You see,” Her voice grew suddenly quiet, “Harold was murdered last night.”
Lily didn’t believe what she was hearing. She sat up and pushed the warm blankets onto the floor.
Harold was the kindest man Lily has ever met. He had been the closest thing like family to her besides Shelly and Mary, and well her father. The first memory she had of him was when Harold had spoken at her Mom’s funeral when Lily was seven, - he’s been in her life ever since.
She never felt close to her father and even though she always tried to please him-she knew she failed. After her Mom died, her dad seemed to loose himself in work. He would leave on business trips for weeks or even months at a time. His returns were always brief and they seemed unwanted as he impatiently waited to leave again.
The one thing that Lily’s dad always made sure of was that Lily wasn’t alone and that she had a roof over her head, Harold’s roof in fact. If you’ve ever heard the saying how it takes a whole village to raise a child, it was true. Lily grew up at many houses in Navarre. But the place that felt most like home was Harold’s. Lily even had a key to his house; he gave to her on her eighth birthday.
Harold took Lily to grade school every morning when she was younger. He bought her school supplies and clothes with the money that her father sent every month. She spent half of her childhood with him. He taught her how to do algebra, how to cook SOS, and even how to throw a punch. He was always at home waiting for her after school wondering how her day went. She would even see him at the Satoh’s when she would stay at their house on a Saturday nights - Harold and Shelly’s grandmother Mary were always together.
It had only been recently that Lily’s father thought she was old enough to stay at home alone. But when her father was out of town for business, like now, Lily would still stay at Harold’s place so she wouldn’t feel lonely.
A heavy wave of uncertainty went through Lily. Her mind numb as she fought what Amaya had said. It couldn’t be true. Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice.
“Lily, are you there?” Amaya asked. “Lily?”
Lily stared at the receiver not knowing what to say. She could hear Amaya talking to someone in the background but for some reason Lily didn’t care what was being said.
“Don’t worry kiddo,” Amaya continued with a small sniff, “Tom just left the house, he is going to come and get you. Lily, are you still there? Are you ok?”
The best Lily could come up with was, “Is Mary ok, does she know what happened?”
“I don’t know. We are not sure where she is. She left a couple days ago and we haven’t heard from her since.” Amaya said. “She left the family a few letters; there is one with your name on it. You can see it when you get here. I’m hoping that yours say something about where she is, because she didn’t say anything about it in ours.”
“A letter?” Lily asked.
“Yes dear, she left letters for the family; you are part of our family.” Amaya’s voice sounded rough from crying. Mary and Harold had always made her feel part of a family, but no one ever said it out loud before.
When Harold and Mary started seeing each other Mary started to bring Shelly around to play with Lily after school. Lily and Shelly had gone to different grade schools. But there was only one Middle School and one High School in Navarre and they became inseparable. Lily went from just having a father, to having grandparents and a sister – she suddenly felt a very strong need for her best friend.
“Amaya, will you please put Shelly back on the phone?” Lily asked.
“Of course, dear, I’ll see you soon.” Lily could hear Amaya talking more in the background and then Shelly took the phone. Her voice was not nearly as in control as her mother’s had been.
“Hi.” Shelly said.
“Hey, I’m sorry I hung up on you. I didn’t believe - I feel awful that I thought that you were joking.” Lily waited for Shelly to blow her nose.
Shelly didn’t acknowledge the apology. “I know. It’s horrible. I didn’t mean to break the news to you that way, I just didn’t know what to do and I really needed to talk to you. I had to know that you were ok. Are you ok?”
Lily paused to think about that question. “I don’t know. I can’t grasp it – nothing feels real.”
“I wish this wasn’t real.”
Lily remembered something horrible. “Shelly,” Lily asked hesitantly, “what did you mean that Harold’s face was missing?”
Shelly took a very uneven breath. “Well Jared showed up to the graveyard this morning, I guess he was going to start measuring the grounds for great grandfather’s new tomb. He’s the one that found him there. He was lying in an open grave –“Shelly stopped talking.
“What is it Shell?”
“Well,” she paused, “his face was just…missing. Nothing was wrong with his body, no wounds or anything, nothing was wrong besides the fact that his face was gone. The reporter on the news is saying that he had bleed to death, that maybe an animal did it. But there wasn’t a lot of blood in the grave and there were no signs of struggle and-“
“Ok, I don’t want to know anymore.” Lily said
“I’m sorry Lily, I’m so sorry.” Shelly brokenly whispered.
Both girls sat quietly on the phone until a knock rapped on the front door.
“I think your dad is here, I’ll see you soon” Lily said. She her cell back on the small table and wandered over to her dresser. Without looking at what she grabbed she pulled on a pair of pants. She grabbed her shoes and crossed the living room to open the door.
Tom was standing on Lily’s front porch with a serious look on his face. “Hello Lily, do you mind if I come inside? I have something I’d like to talk to you about.”
His request took Lily off guard. Tom was a very quiet man. He kept to himself and rarely spoke to Lily. Actually he rarely spoke to anyone. Whenever Lily would ask Shelly about her dad it seemed as though Shelly only knew the bare minimum, he worked for a bank.
Lily and Tom had never been in the same room together, let alone in an empty house together, but Lily nodded her head and stepped back. Tom walked inside the living room looking a little uncomfortable. Lily had never seen Tom so unkempt. His hair was sticking up in odd angles and his shirt wasn’t tucked in and was left half way open over his undershirt.
He paced back and forth for sometime before he spoke. Lily took a seat on the couch. Just when the silence seemed to be too much, Tom spoke. “When Mary left, to where ever she has gone to,” He sounded irritated, “she left the family some letters. There is one for you at the house.”
“Amaya told me over the phone.” Lily said.
Tom nodded his head and started to pace again, the pace seemed to be much slower than before. “I opened my letter before any one else had woken up.” He paused, “If Mary ever writes a letter it’s very personal and very important. You see, my mother is an interesting woman. She thinks that something bad is happening around us. She has told me many things in my letter that others might not believe. But I believe them.”
Lily watched as Tom took an uneasy seat beside her. She looked into his eyes wanting to calm him; she never noticed before that they had the same graceful upward slant that Mary’s had. They were also the shape of her best friend Shelly’s.
Lily suddenly felt her first small comfort after what she heard this morning. She wasn’t alone, she had the Satohs.
He took a deep breath and continued, “The most personal thing in my letter was something for you. It’s a second letter that she asked me to give to you privately. I’m still not sure that I should give it to you.” With this Tom pulled a Red envelope out of his pocket and held it in his long hands. “I didn’t open it Lily, but I need you to know that in my letter, my mother asked me to tell you that everything she wrote to you is true. She also instructed me to have you read this when you are alone.” He handed the envelope to Lily.
Lily took the envelope and looked at the “L” that was written on the face of it. Tom gazed at his empty hand.
“My mother is a very honest woman, but there are things that she believes that sound crazy. What ever is in your letter, you just - you must use logic when you read it.”
Lily folded the envelope and stuck it in her back pocket.
“Mr. Satoh,” Lily asked, “if you’re not sure I should have it, why are you giving it to me?”
His face looked extremely tired. “Well I’m not sure where my mother is and there are many important things for my family to deal with right now.” He put his hand on Lily’s shoulder. “I feel as though you are one of my children Lily. And because my mother has decided to include you in on a very dangerous secret that doesn’t mean that you have to be in on it. You see you have a choice if you want to stay here alone, it might be dangerous for you but we will do our best to make you safe here.”
“Here?”
“Well not necessarily in this house, but away from us.”
Tom saw the saddened look on Lily’s face. “Mr. Satoh, I don’t understand what you’re trying to-“
“I’m sorry. I’m not being very clear. I just want you to know that if you come with me now, you’re going to learn more about the Satoh’s than you could ever imagine.” Tom looked at Lily sternly. “We have a secret Lily and once we tell you our secret there is no going back. It can help you understand many things that are happening but it will be a very difficult thing to accept, and it could place you in danger. But we can help prepare you for what is coming.”
“Danger?”
“Yes.” Tom stood back up. “Honestly though, you might be safer being in danger with us, than in danger by yourself. If it was me, I’d rather know, but I understand if you don’t want to come with me.”
Lily didn’t understand anything that Tom was saying to her. He was staring at her looking frustrated and undecided. He was uncomfortable around Lily, he always had been before, but now he told her that she was like one of his children. Lily didn’t feel the same closeness to Tom as she did Mary, but she could tell that his words were sincere. Lily trusted him. She wasn’t sure why going with him would make her unsafe but she did know that if she stayed where she was; she would be alone. And that was something that Lily feared the most.
“I’m coming with you.”
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