Gather the Sentient Read online

  gather the sentient

  Sevens Prophecy Series

  Book Two

  gather

  the sentient

  AMALIE JAHN

  BERMLORD PUBLICATIONS

  Also by Amalie Jahn:

  The Clay Lion Series:

  The Clay Lion

  Tin Men

  A Straw Man

  The Sevens Prophecy Series:

  Among the Shrouded

  Gather the Sentient

  Beyond the Sanctified

  (Available Early 2017)

  Sign up for Amalie’s Readers Group and in addition to receiving promotional discounts, sneak peeks, and monthly newsletters, your membership will now allow you exclusive access to bonus material.

  CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP

  Copyright © 2016 by Amalie Jahn

  License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any informational storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This e-book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Whispering Hope, song lyrics written in 1868 by Septimus Winner.

  Kindle Edition

  A BERMLORD E-book

  First Edition, July 2016

  Typeset in Garamond

  Cover layout by Amalie Jahn

  Author photograph courtesy of Mary Ickert of Mary L. Photography

  For Laura,

  who helped to develop the background for Jose’s narrative while we lazed around my back porch together

  one warm, summer afternoon.

  Thanks for the inspiration, not only for Gather the Sentient’s main character, but for the way you approach life

  with such drive and perseverance.

  You’ll always be my hero

  Acknowledgments

  To my internet service provider for the lightning fast service I used to research (and research and research) many facets of this book: the Democratic Republic of Congo, domestic violence, gang violence, the prevalence Chinese body shaming, the name for the part of your nose between your nostrils, and the best place to sing karaoke in Fells Point these days.

  Heartfelt thanks also go out to:

  The women who told me their stories of abuse, raw and unfiltered. Thank you for sharing your truths so I could bring Andrea’s story to life.

  My editor, Anne Zirkle, for agreeing to continue this journey with me, for understanding that sometimes it is possible to edit via text message and emojis, and for helping me see the holes that needed filling along the way. You’re always the voice of reason. Can’t wait to collaborate again on book three!

  The beta readers near and far who volunteered their time and their eagle eyes, flushing out typos, spelling mistakes, and grammatical errors so the book would go out into the world free of any embarrassing blemishes.

  And to my family, for the pride I hear in your voices when you tell people I’m an author. Thanks for always believing in me.

  “Borromean rings are three rings which are interlocked in such a way that removing one ring causes the entire structure to fall apart. This is an illustration of what is known as a Brunnian link, a situation where no two loops in a figure are directly connected.

  Borromean rings are extremely ancient. They appear in Buddhist art from thousands of years ago, for example, and they can be seen on Viking rune stones, in Roman mosaics, and in an assortment of other places. People appear to have an enduring fascination with the phenomenon of Borromean rings, and they appear especially frequently in religious artwork from a variety of cultures.

  When used in religious artwork, coats of arms, logos, and crests, Borromean rings are meant to symbolize strength in unity, a living illustration of what happens when one link in a united element is removed. The rings are named for the Borromeo family of Italian nobles, who famously used them in their family coat of arms, popularizing the three interlocked rings.”

  Source: www.wisegeek.com

  gather the sentient

  PREFACE

  MANCHU

  Monday, March 21, 1955

  Central Africa

  Manchu wasn’t used to the heat of Sub-Saharan Africa. Although the summer months were always warm living in Shanghai, the oppressive intensity of the jungle heat stopped the young man where he stood, bent over and struggling to catch his breath.

  “It’s thick out here, isn’t it?” his graduate professor and travelling companion, Dr. Yueng Wei asked as he slipped briskly past him, expertly cutting through the dense foliage with his machete.

  Manchu swatted at a biting fly which had somehow found its way under the cool, damp bandana he’d tied around his neck. “I don’t know how people live here,” he said, forcing himself to continue on, following the crude path his mentor left through the brush.

  “People do and have for thousands of years. Evidence of their existence is all around us. Evidence is what we’re searching for today.”

  When Dr. Yueng had approached him earlier in the semester about accompanying him on a research trip to Africa, Manchu had been told they would be going to Angola to archive antiquities housed at their Natural Museum of Anthropology in Luanda. He’d assumed there would be accommodations – beds, fans, running water. What he’d discovered instead, upon his arrival, was that his professor had no interest in archiving antiquities. Instead, the true purpose of their trip was to document and research the origins of an ancient prophecy.

  The Sevens Prophecy.

  According to Dr. Yueng, the prophecy was as old as man himself, passed down from generation to generation, foretelling of a time when the fate of the world would be decided by a chosen group of gifted psychics, ushering in an age of goodness or evil. Should the light prevail, seven ‘children of the light’ would lead those living at the time to work together as equals for the betterment of all mankind, producing a utopian society. The darkness would fall away and wars would end. There would be no more famine. No more poverty. It would be an age of charity, humility, and grace.

  Conversely, should the dark prevail, a hedonistic society would arise, led by the seven ‘children of the dark.’ They would come to rule the earth’s citizens as unchallenged dictators, exploiting the world’s riches for their own personal gain. It would be a time of gluttony, greed, wrath, and lust.

  Dr. Yueng had been explaining all of this to Manchu on their month long trek together through the most remote parts of central Africa, which he believed to be the birthplace of the prophecy. They were searching for clues as to the timing of the end of days; clues Yueng felt sure could be found in the Congolese jungle. The untimely death of the man’s own mentor 30 years before had tasked him as a ‘keeper,’ and the professor had spent the better part of his adult life searching for signs of the world to come.

  “A keeper,” Yueng clarified as they continued through the thick brush, “is one who is commissioned with the noble task of searching for both the light and dark psychics with the ultimate goal of assisting the light and stifling the dark. It is also my job to conceal the prophecy’s existence, systematically eliminating it from society’s collective conscious to preventing the world’s darkest people from seeking one another out in the hopes of fulfilling the prophecy themselves.”

  Manchu thought about the worst cases of genocide and wondered aloud how one could know for sure that the prop
hecy hadn’t already been fulfilled.

  “There have been many times throughout history when keepers were certain the end was at hand,” Yueng said. “When men committed atrocities so evil there was certainly no other explanation than the final alliance of the dark psychics. In fact, as long ago as 40 AD, keepers were convinced the age of darkness had arrived, when Rome’s third emperor, Caligula, ruled with a hand so malevolent, he was known for saying, ‘I wish Rome had but one neck, so that I could cut off all their heads with one blow!’”

  Dr. Yueng shared many stories of the times keepers were convinced the age of darkness had certainly come to pass. Accounts of men like Nero, who not only murdered every member in his family, but also poisoned, beheaded, stabbed, burned, boiled, crucified and impaled thousands of Roman citizens. Men like Maximilien Robespierre who was so obsessed with the guillotine, he incited a reign of terror in which tens of thousands of French citizens had been beheaded.

  The list went on and on with names which were both familiar and unfamiliar to Manchu. Names like Genghis Khan, Attila the Hun, Tomas de Torquemada, Ivan the Terrible, Adolf Hitler, and Joseph Stalin.

  “Just when we thought all was lost during the reign of each of these tyrants, a light would always appear. Some voice of reason. A coalition of goodness to overthrow the evil. In fact, here in the Congo, when King Leopold II of Belgium mutilated and slaughtered millions of Congolese, he was finally thwarted by a world-wide human rights movement inspired by literary works such as Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, Mark Twain’s King Leopold's Soliloquy, and Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Crime of the Congo. Eventually, international opposition motivated by these good men’s works caused the Belgian parliament to compel the King to cede the Congo Free State to Belgium in 1908.” Yueng paused, taking a sip of water from his canteen before continuing up an especially steep section of terrain. “We keepers know, however, that a time will come that the work of a few good men will not be enough to overthrow the darkness. Which is why we must do whatever we can to protect both the secret of the prophecy and the light psychics as they are drawn to one another.”

  Manchu was still pondering the strangeness of the prophecy, wondering if it was something he could actually believe when he heard his professor crying out up ahead.

  “Manchu! Come quickly and bring the newsprint! I believe I’ve found the etching we’ve been looking for.”

  Manchu dug through his ruck sack for the ream of paper, one of half-a-dozen means of replication he’d been hauling around, and tried to ignore the briars tearing at his face and hands as he made the final ascent to where Dr. Yueng was waiting near a cave at the top of the hill. Together they unrolled the paper against the wall of the cave, and Yueng began coloring over the inscription on the rock face with a smooth piece of charcoal.

  “What does it say?” Machu asked as the last of the symbols appeared on the parchment.

  The professor made one final pass with the coal across the inscription and tossed the remaining nub to the ground. He stood back, admiring his work and with a tremor in his voice replied, “‘Seven light to save the earth. Seven dark to destroy it.’ The prophecy has been known here, Manchu. I’m certain now. We’re on the right track.”

  CHAPTER

  1

  MIA

  Wednesday, August 24

  Baltimore

  Mia slipped into the back of the courtroom unnoticed. The door groaned behind her, but no one turned to glance in her direction as she slid into one of the last remaining seats in the far corner of the gallery. She hadn’t stepped foot in the courthouse since the two days she’d spent on the stand at the beginning of the trial. Since then, she’d watched the remainder of the case unfold on TV, as the state presented a solid case against the accused. All that was left was to announce the verdict.

  Several rows in front of her were Lera, Anya, and Svetlana, three of the trafficked women she’d been imprisoned with in the basement of the warehouse. When the donation money from the precinct began pouring in, most of the other rescued girls returned home, but the three who sat before her made the conscious decision to stay, thanks to specially granted permission from the government. And, as it turned out, their testimony had been the most compelling, and damning, of the trial. It was no wonder they’d become social media darlings, heralded for their bravery and dedication. Mia wondered what life held in store for them now that the trial was going to be over.

  She was still imagining their futures when the jury members filed into the box one at a time. Twelve solemn faces, not a one conveying the slightest indication of their decision. Their souls were light, revealed to her by the brightness of their auras, just as they’d been when they listened to her testimony several weeks before. She was comforted knowing it was their nature to see justice served, but she was also aware that even the purest of souls could be deceived.

  As they settled themselves in their seats, Mia turned her attention to Dalton, the man who had somehow worked his way up numerous chains of command to become Baltimore’s police commissioner. Her stomach churned, digesting the memory. Highly regarded, with a seemingly spotless track record, he took over command of the city, much to the delight of her father, Chief Carlos Rosetti. He’d been blinded, along with everyone else, by Dalton’s glowing credentials. She wondered if his embarrassment was keeping him from the courtroom today, or if he simply couldn’t be trusted to share the same space with the man who nearly killed her. Seeing Dalton now, sitting smugly beyond the multitude of spectators, she wished she’d had the courage to trust in her abilities from the beginning. Perhaps, she thought, if I hadn’t questioned myself, we could have arrested him sooner, and Kate would still be alive.

  But of course, it was all in the past. She pressed her eyelids closed, forcing herself to hold it together. She couldn’t express her emotions. Not here. Not now. Today, of all days, she would be strong.

  Just before court was scheduled to convene, she felt the bench shift beside her. She didn’t have to look to know who it was.

  “Hey,” Thomas whispered, his fingers discreetly brushing the polyester of her uniform just above her knee. “How ya holding up?”

  He was in a Flaming Lips concert t-shirt and Levis, which she often teased was his uniform. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she said, leaning into him. “But I thought you had orientation this afternoon?”

  The bailiff announced Judge Garrison’s arrival, and Thomas shrugged as everyone stood while she entered the chamber. “What’s there to know? I go to class. I learn. I go home. Who needs orientation?”

  Returning to their seats, the last thing Mia needed was to be reminded of just how much of a spectacle the trial had become. It wasn’t a stretch to say that the entire country had spent the better part of six weeks glued to their newsfeeds, watching to see what would become of the highly-decorated commissioner, accused of spearheading one of the world’s largest human trafficking operations. The media circus they’d been embroiled in was nothing short of surreal. After everything she’d witnessed and everything she’d been through, she didn’t know how she would react if he was acquitted.

  “I feel Kate here with us, you know?” she said, meeting his gaze. “I just hope, if she’s watching from somewhere, she’ll be proud of all we’ve accomplished here.”

  Before he could respond, the gavel sounded and the foreman was asked to read the verdict. Mia could hear the woman in front of her snapping her gum nervously on the back of her teeth. She could hear the second hand marking the time on the wrist of the man to her right. She could hear Thomas’ shallow breathing just over the pounding of her own heart inside her chest. She closed her eyes.

  Thomas wrapped his hand around hers where it rested on the seat between them. Clearly, he understood the reading of the first verdict was going to have a powerful effect on her, one way or another.

  Because, of course, the first verdict pertained specifically to her.

  “We the jury, in the case of the state of Maryland versus Roger M
. Dalton, on the count of attempted murder in the second degree, find the defendant guilty.”

  Cheers erupted from the gallery, and she opened her eyes, taking a huge gulp of air into her oxygen-deprived lungs. Only then did she realize she’d been holding her breath since the gavel had sounded moments before. Relief washed over her and she melted into Thomas’ shoulder, knowing she had successfully convinced the jury he’d intended to murder her in his foyer the morning she confronted him about his involvement with the trafficking.

  “That’ll put him away for a while,” Thomas grinned, obviously thrilled at the prospect.

  Her eyes were now fixed on the back of Dalton’s skull. “I don’t want him to go away for a while,” she replied. “I want him put away forever.”

  The foreman wasted no time announcing the remaining verdicts. “On all 46 counts of conspiracy to kidnap, we find the defendant guilty. On all 46 counts of third-degree sex offence, we find the defendant guilty. On all 46 counts of second-degree sex offence, we find the defendant guilty. On all 46 counts of second-degree conspiracy to commit rape, we find the defendant guilty.”

  More cheers filled the courtroom, but the foreman continued to the final verdict, as if the burden of holding in the last of the sentencing was too much to bear. “On all 46 counts of first-degree conspiracy to commit rape, we find the defendant…” He paused, glancing at Dalton in a motion so slight, Mia sensed perhaps only she had observed it. Half a second later, he cut his eyes to the paper trembling in his hands and continued. “Guilty.”