Page 68 of Old Secrets

The co-pilot snorted. “I hate religious fanatics. I fought during World War II. I still remember. To me, your family has faced the same horrors as those forced into concentration camps, but over a longer period of time. Worse, while they were not put through, perhaps, the same physical abuses, I suspect they were ultimately driven to have children to protect their dwindling family. Reading between the lines, I suspect your aunt’s partner perished because your parents refused to have more children. Then they had you, and your aunt held on only long enough to see you sent to the United States.”

My heart ached for the woman I couldn’t remember meeting. “Where does that put the leaders of this group?”

Noah chuckled, but there was no joy in the sound. “In a very precarious situation. If this organization is after your parents’ apparent immortality, and they produced you, a child who seemingly cannot be killed by normal means, then the base congregation is probably on the verge of rioting over it. You might be able to trick them into sacrificing their leadership to appease you, someone they view to be a goddess.”

Jake snorted, and he followed up with one of his soft huffs. “You mean to have them sacrifice their own leadership.”

“When you cultivate the power of belief in someone, expect that someone to use the power cultivated. Your parents have had the power they might have possessed beaten out of them with the murder of their children. They are beings of love,” Noah explained. “Marking the souls already uses more of their power and authority than they like, for all the powers they wield have more than obeyed them. Power is only power with the right willingness to use it. They’re Tibetan at heart, and their beliefs are such where they have not been able to break free of the prisons they imposed upon themselves. I don’t actually believe their sanctuary blocks their power. I believe that they believe it does, because that is what they have been told is fact for thousands upon thousands of years. Magic only works if you believe it will work—and they did not believe they possessed any magic capable of protecting their children while in the Heart of Refuge.”

“Is he correct, Maurice? Is that something these people—and my parents—would culturally do?”

“There’s substance to the theory. Western religions are not like what Tibetans typically abide by. It’s far more ingrained in their lifestyle. You, for example, were named Karma after one of those basic beliefs. You’ve become an embodiment of what karma is. We’re not sure what you would have been named otherwise—or if you would have been named at all.”

I read between the lines: It was entirely possible my parents hadn’t named my murdered brothers and sisters to help lessen the anguish of their loss.

Names made it harder to let go.

Jake gave my hand another squeeze. “Are you going to tell her parents about the possibility they could use their magic in their sanctuary?”

“No.”

Maurice’s immediate answer relieved me, as I couldn’t imagine how they’d react if they learned there was the possibility they might have been able to save the many other children they’d lost over the years.

“May I inquire on why?”

Something about Jake’s tone indicated he had an answer, but he wanted to investigate what the translator felt about the situation.

“Enough harm has been done to them. That’s a decision the Chinese and American Inquisition made together, assuming we can substantiate our thoughts. There were a lot of parents in the room, and we all agreed on one thing: it would destroy us if we were in their situation and we could have acted but had not solely because of something we’d been trained to believe. We already have a few cover stories set up in case the subject comes up, and we’ll seed in a few possibilities and mistruths to spare them. The possibility does exist they can’t use their magic there, but even if we find confirmation that they can, it is best to let that sleeping beast alone.”

I nodded, as did Jake. When everyone stayed quiet, I stared out the window at the vast green landscape below, a mix of fertile fields and thick forest. “How long will it take for us to reach Tibet?”

Noah twisted around to face me, gracing me with a grin. “We’ll be in the air for a total of six hours. The flight is just on the upper limits of this plane’s fuel capacity, so we’ll be refueling before we enter Tibet. Tibet is arid, especially compared to here. It won’t be long until we see mountains in earnest, and you can spot some hills out the window even now. Interested in hearing about some of the local history as we fly?”

I perked up at the idea of spending the flight seeing the sights and hearing about China’s history rather than worrying even more over the fate of my parents and their circumstances. “Actually, yes. I’d love that.”

“Then we’ll begin with here. Beihai is a city in Guangxi, very young compared to the rest of China’s history. She was founded officially in 1949, although she was inhabited earlier than that. There are Western influences on the city still standing, built as early as 1876. While young, she is fierce and rapidly grows.” Noah pointed to some farmland outside the window. “To our right, you can see supporting farmland for the area’s various seaports. Beihai thrives on trade, so a lot of these crops will find their way to Beihai before being exported or distributed elsewhere in China.”

Using Beihai as a launching point, Noah crawled his way backwards in time, with the country's vibrant history growing richer the farther inland we flew. Not to be outdone, the Chinese members of our little group, which consisted of Maurice and two other men who introduced themselves as Francis and Leon, added to Noah’s teachings with the stories only those who’d grown up in the country would know, painting a new picture of China for me, centered around the people who walked gingerly under the eye of their government.

Through the flight, I couldn’t help but wonder what we would learn in Tibet and how it would change us all.

EIGHTEEN

“How’d they get past security?”

On a normal day, limited flights flew into Xigazê, with larger hubs in China serving as funneling points for the Tibetan airport. With a little help from the Chinese government, we arrived five hours before my parents were due.

Any other day, they would have needed at least thirty hours to make the journey from Beihai, requiring several connections to reach the remote location.

While small, the airport held numerous modern charms, although I learned to appreciate the boarding gates of American airports. The plane was small enough to have its own steps, which were steep and tested my nerves.

Jake helped by escaping first, and he plucked me out of the belly of the beast before I could make a fool out of myself balking at the height. Capturing me in a hug, he held me close for a long moment before setting me loose so he could retrieve our bags.

Noah got out of the plane last, and a pair of witches boarded, waited until we were clear, and taxied towards a nearby hangar. Once the plane was at a safe distance, he said, “It seems Greenwich has converged within the airport. Monitoring witches and Fenerec report that the only Normals present are confirmed staff. They’re being quietly replaced with our operatives now, and the building should be clear within ten minutes. The government has requested that we leave the structures standing but that we’re welcome to make as much of a mess as we’d like otherwise. We’re already getting reports back that a hefty number of violent fugitives are present. The government decided to check global criminal records against the airports facial recognition systems.”

“How’d they get past security?”

“Greenwich operators were running the specific lines they used. China is moving to apprehend the traitorous airport employees across the country. They’re getting into position now, and they’re waiting for word on when we’re done with our activities here.”