PROLOGUE
“Thou shalt not kill.”
It was a simple enough command.Clear, concise, easy to understand, and apply.All of God's Commandments were so, but none were so clear as“Thou shalt not kill.”One needed no extra thought to divine what it meant.
The Disciple passed the blade over the whetstone, nostrils flaring in satisfaction as sparks flew from the edge, chips of useless metal sheared away, leaving behind only a sharp edge: simple, straightforward, and clearly defined, just like the commandment it would kill to defend.
The Disciple’s smile faded.The commandment was clear.And the punishment for breaking it was equally clear.
Grief filled the Disciple’s mind.Not fear.Fear had been sacrificed long ago on the altar of righteousness.One could not be a true disciple if one feared the sacrifices required of that title.Yet even Christ himself felt grief as he wept in the Garden of Gethsemane.“Father, if it be thy will, let this cup pass from me.”
“Nevertheless,” the Disciple spoke aloud, “not my will but thine be done.”
The Disciple turned the blade over.More sparks flew as the stone honed the opposite side of the blade.One spark fell on the letter that sat open next to the whetstone.The Disciple cried out and stamped out the small flame that flared into life at the contact.Her hands trembled as she moved it safely away.Her eyes fell on the exhortation at the bottom.
God asks the greatest sacrifices of His greatest servants.
Grief filled the Disciple’s mind again.She could well recall the conversation she had with the Lawgiver the last time she saw him in person.She had confessed her wish, expecting him to scold her—no, torevileher—for her desires, to threaten her with hellfire if she didn’t repent.
Instead, he simply smiled his enigmatic smile, the one that played at the edges of his lips like fingertips strumming a harp, and said, “Perhaps God has chosen you to do what no one else can do.Perhaps He has placed you in this unique circumstance to be His instrument for justice.”
At first, the Disciple hadn’t understood what that meant, but as more correspondence—written now that the Lawgiver was once more behind bars—followed, she came to realize what God had called her to do.
And what it would cost her to do it.
A tear fell, landing precisely on the scorched mark of the paper.Water to ease the pain of the fire.
The Disciple swallowed and repeated aloud, “Nevertheless, not my will but thine be done.”
She set the letter down, picked up her blade, and continued to sharpen.
CHAPTER ONE
“Kate!What a delightful surprise!Come in!Come in!”
Kate Valentine’s lips curved into a smirk as she entered the office.“Surprise?I told you I was coming here.”
“And it was a surprise,” the office’s occupant said.“I’ve met you many hundreds of times over the years, yet I can count on the fingers of one hand how many times those meetings have taken place in this office.”
That was true.Kate considered Professor Gabriel Levine to be more than just an academic mentor.He was a great friend and one of the few people on Earth she believed came close to understanding her, including herself.Yet their meetings almost exclusively took place at Pixie Hollow, a coffee shop in Midtown Manhattan, a few miles away from his office at New York University.
It struck her, as it had many times before, how little she knew about his personal life, or his life at all.She'd only learned a month ago that he had a sister and a fondness for marijuana-laced baked goods.She still wasn't sure if those two revelations were connected.Yet another relationship of hers was characterized as much by what was hidden as by what was shared.
“Well, the conversation I want to have with you today isn’t really appropriate for the public.”
Gabe raised an eyebrow above the ivory-colored rims of today's preferred eyeglasses.Fake ivory, of course.He'd never support such a brutal habit as poaching endangered animals."Oh?As opposed to our ordinary conversations, which would make excellent subject matter for 'A Day in the Life of New York City?'"
“Well, I’m not from New York City, so there’s that.”
“Shocking.I would never have guessed.”
Kate gave him a dry look, but behind the frivolous mew of his lips, the mirthful gleam in his eye, and the chin resting casually on one upraised palm, Kate could see a new emotion.Gabe was nervous.That was unlike him.A man confident enough to wear brightly colored and loudly patterned suits—today a tartan jacket over forest-green pants—and who stood roughly five feet tall while towering above every other active researcher in the field of linguistics had little to be nervous about.
Oh, but he does, doesn’t he?Or sure thinks he does.And has good reason to.
She sighed.“You know what?I’m sorry.You’re right, this is weird.Let’s just go grab coffee and have a normal talk.”
She got to her feet, and he said, "Sit down," in a firm voice.
