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Would you like to read more of this? Chapter 3: Events of a Chain Present Day – Mérida, Yucatán This part of Mexico is a rainforest. Thick jungle grows wildly in any spot left unoccupied by man. Not that different from the woods around Seattle. The unrelenting sun bounces off every reachable surface. Even behind his thick glasses, Daring’s retinas smolder. Yeah, that’s different. Focus. Breathe. Keep walking. His dad’s following him to the side door on the garage. The thick air hums with heat. The road in front of the house is packed white sand. He can see white. The trees—green, in theory—press close to the garage. Which is peach, he’s been told. To him, it’s all grayscale noise. He knows what color stuff’s supposed to be, but for him, it’s all secondhand knowledge. Like faraway lands and long-dead kings, he believes in colors only because others insist they’re real. For Daring, the world is black and white. Always has been. We call it genetics, but it’s a spin of the wheel. Sixteen years ago, Daring was one of seven kids on the entire planet born with a complete inability to see color. It’s called achromatopsia. Not red-green confusion. Not muted tones. Just absence. A clean severing of color from his brain. What it means is he’s always been most comfortable in the dark. Playing tricks on his sister. Helping his parents find things at night. He can move through a room with the lights off like a ghost. And as long as he can remember, his mom’s insisted he wear the heavy-duty goggle-glasses when he leaves the house. Or else, instant migraine. Inside the garage, his dad shuts the door behind them and Daring exhales. The dark wraps around him like a weighted blanket. He peels off the glasses, eyes already adjusted, and looks around Dad’s office. He goes to the desk and clicks on the freshly-unpacked desk lamp so his dad can see, then blinks until the blur settles. Stacks. Boxes. Artifacts wrapped in plastic and padding. A jungle of research. Copies of his dad and mom’s book, The History and People of Tenochtitlan. The walls are empty except four photographs, straight and framed, his dad has hurriedly hung in the new space. A photo of Awat’ovi. His Dad and Dr. Paulino with a group of students knee-deep in a newly excavated ruin. Then two photos, almost identical, of his dad, Dr. Paulino, and Dr. Friedrich—arms around shoulders—at the summits of similar-looking pyramids. One at Tenochtitlan, the other at Chichen Itzá. And one more. Daring finds his own face looking back from a photo taken earlier that year on Alki Beach in Seattle. His long, wiry body glows white against the warm tones of his mother, his sister, the deep hues of the wet gray sea behind them. He looks like he’s been photoshopped in. Like a ghost haunting someone else’s family. His father once explained that while Sylvie got the full measure of their mother’s Brazilian-Mexican complexion, Daring had been endowed with the proud pale pink of Clan Rhodes. “Over here,” Dad says. “Come have a look.” Daring follows into the garage and sees a fully restored classic Jeep. Soft top folded back. Old-school lines. Army green. Or navy? He’ll have to ask. “Oh, wow,” Daring breathes. Dad shrugs. “Probably not what you’d pick, but it’s a CJ-7. Same kind I drove in the service. She’s from 1977, but Hans helped me find one that still runs like a dream. But it’ll be good for learning engines.” “Triple sevens,” Daring says. The words slip out, the numbers repeating like a whisper in his head. An omen hiding behind coincidence. His dad chuckles. “Triple sevens. Your mom’s thing?” “Uh, yeah.” “Hop in. See how she feels.” He holds out the keys. Daring slides behind the wheel. The seat creaks. He runs his hands over the dashboard. The scents of old leather and engine oil fill his nose. He cranks the key and the engine growls to life. Pumps the gas and elicits a pleasant rumble. “Not bad,” he says. “Should I dim the blinds in here, son?” Dad asks. “Looks like your eyes are getting watery. I’m sure it’s just the light.” Daring smirks. Wipes them anyway. “My eyes are fine. It’s... it’s awesome.” “I’ll take a hug.” Dad leans across the gap between seats and Daring puts his arms around him. “Thanks, Dad. Really.” “You’re welcome. Happy birthday.” Daring cuts the engine. The Jeep ticks as it settles. Outside the garage door, voices murmur. “I’ve got one more thing,” Dad says, fishing into his shirt collar. “What is it?” “That was your big gift,” he says, “Don’t forget to thank your mom and Hans. They helped. But this one is just from me.” His dad unclasps the gold chain he always wears and immediately places it around Daring’s neck. It’s heavy. The metal worn smooth. The pendant is a fist-sized gold disc carved with the Aztec calendar. It’s unnaturally cool as it drops against Daring’s chest with a thud. And a pulse. Like the world slowed a half-second. “I want you to have this talisman,” his dad says. His voice quieter now, less playful. “You won’t understand yet how important it is.” “No, Dad. That’s from your dig at Tenochtitlan. You said it was—” “Important? I know.” The edge in his dad’s voice surprises him. “I need you to promise me something: You will never take it off.” Daring meets his eyes. “Dad—never take it off? I mean, that’s weird—” “You know what I’ve always told you, right?” Dad asks, his gaze shifting back to his office door. “About living your life for other people?” “Like for ruins and artifacts and people who died a thousand years ago?” Daring asks, sharper than intended. “No,” his dad says firmly, “Like your mom. For Silvie. Family and friends.” He rests a hand on Daring’s shoulder. “Like an adult. Look, I know it’s hard asking you to start over in a new place, a new country. Your mom and I appreciate what you’re going through right now and we want to say thank you. That we love you.” Daring only nods. “We bought this car to give you some independence. But it also makes me realize I won’t always be around, you know, to protect you.” Daring isn’t sure what he’s trying to say. “Just don’t ever take it off, alright?” His intensity makes Daring hesitate, but he nods again. “I won’t.” “Good.” His dad gives his shoulder a final squeeze, then walks to the garage door opener and hits the button. “It’s yours. Well, almost... The plan was to be back on Friday so I could take you to get your license...” he looks like he’s about to say more but stops himself. “In the meantime, you’ll be getting a ride to school with Hans.” Daring slides his sunglasses back on as the garage door climbs open, a second sunrise floods the room revealing Mom, Sylvie, Audri, and Dr. Paulino waiting expectantly. And another man walking up the driveway. An out-of-fashion homburg hat can’t hide the white curly hair of his head and the white billowy moustache that jumps out from his dark sun-wrinkled face. Hans Friedrich raises a hand in greeting. “Estas son… las mañanitas…” The baritone croak of a birthday serenade. Daring groans. “My birthday’s not ‘til tomorrow.” Hans pulls him into a hug that smells of museums and cigar smoke. “Tja—then, I shall sing it again tomorrow!” “It’s time we said our goodbyes,” Dad says. He kisses his wife in a long dip, then presses another kiss to each child’s forehead. “If you start to miss me,” he calls, “just remember, I missed you first!” Daring cringes, blushing and glancing at Audri. Unfortunately, the girl is smiling at him. “Um, my dad’s love language is public humiliation,” Daring mutters when she continues to smirk. “I think it’s sweet.” Dad looks content as he turns, shouldering his bag, and strides to Dr. Paulino’s SUV, Mom staring after him. “Goodbye, Dad,” Daring calls. “Love you!” Sylvie sings out. “Tenha uma boa viagem, Papai!” Audri shouts to her own dad. Dr. Paulino puts the black SUV into drive and it fades from view, his dad’s arm still waving out the passenger window all the way down the road. They vanish into heat haze. Hans claps his hands. “Ach so! Time to go. Everyone in the van!” “Time for your first day at your new school,” Mom says, passing Daring and Sylvie their backpacks and lunches. “You’ll do great, mis amores!” Hans clanks open the side door. Daring hesitates. Turns back to look at the Jeep parked in their garage. His Jeep. Almost. Three days until he can get his license. Three whole days of waiting. And riding to school in Hans’ big white mystery van with his sister. And Audri. She catches him looking and smiles. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “Aren’t you excited to start at a new school today?” Daring blinks, double-checking if she’s serious. “Uh, sure. Isn’t everyone?” Audri continues to beam at him, apparently oblivious to sarcasm. Okay, maybe it isn’t better to spend more time with this girl, since it might turn out she’s a crazy person. Daring tucks the chain and gold talisman into his shirt, the cold metal reminding him of his question. Of omens. “The fourth seven?” he says quietly. His mom pauses. “Judgment. Three sevens means you’re on the right path. Your thoughts are manifesting. Four means time to act. To stayon the path or risk judgment.” Four sevens. Judgment. Something inside tells him it might not be a great day after all. As he climbs into the van, Daring releases a huge breath... Excerpt of Chapter 3 of "The Powers of Time and Nature" available now on #Amazon #Kindle #TheTalismanCycle amzn.to/4q3SKlO

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