"You've become quite the little troublemaker."

      Fingers trailed along my skin, light, and fluttering across my ankles. They moved leisurely up to my knees. "More than most of my women, and between us, that is saying something." It was a man.

    The voice was soft, a vague mixture of seduction and threat. I couldn't open my eyes to see, but I could sense the infused, colorful light of his presence. There were other lights nearby, dimmer, less focused— dozens of them.  

    Where was I?

    "I'm fairly certain you can hear me by now. You look like hell." He almost sounded sympathetic but was too amused to qualify. "Your skin's grey, you need to wash your hair, and there is still a large hole in your head over your right eye." He grabbed my left hand and run his palm up my forearm. "You're still cold." The blanket covering me began to rustle and pull away from my feet. He curled his fingers around each of my feet.

    Adrenaline jumped and skittered over my body, and my heart beat wildly.

    My heart beat wildly!

    He moved away from me and walked to the other side of the room. I could tell I was in a small room. His footsteps echoed like the floor was hollow wood, and his voice remained close as if the walls were not far away. He dragged something across the floor behind him and set it near my head. A chair? His hand ran down my hair, starting at my scalp. Then I felt something firm and bristly run slowly through my hair.

    He was brushing my hair?

    The touch was both intoxicating and revolting. After so much emptiness, my body was exulting at the feeling, but I didn't want this man touching me. I just didn't know why.

    He fell into silence. A binding skipped across my ears and down my neck, making the hairs on my arms raise and ripple.

    I felt an intense chill. A dog barked twice, followed by a plaintive and intense whine. I flinched as icy water struck me with a penetrating force. The dog whined again mournfully, mixed with fear and misery. I saw him, crouched low between two wooden crates, his tail pulled between his legs. Water dripped from his fur as he quivered, either from fear or cold, I couldn't tell. I sighed in sympathy, helpless, as the whimpering grew louder. I tried to get my bearings when the ground lurched beneath me. My sense of balance pitched and spun, but I didn't fall. Strange. More glacial water rammed against me from behind.

    I realized everything was moving. I heard men screaming, echoing the dog's cries and wood cracking. Then I knew where I was and panicked. I spun around and stared out over the hull of a ship. Waves crashed against each other, sending massive sprays into the air. More screams pulled my attention from the water, and something loud cracked near my head. A red-haired man, barefoot and skin tinged with blood, appeared from behind the crates, clutching the ropes. The dog lowered himself closer to the deck and scooted toward the man, whimpering in relief and fear. The man crouched, corded muscles twisted, as he gripped the rope with his right hand and clutched the dog to him with his left.

    A man slid, arms and legs flailing wildly, across the deck and slammed into the bulkhead. Someone was shouting something, but I couldn't make out the words over the roar of the waves and the protests of the ship. The deck pitched and vaulted suddenly to the side, vertical to the water. I fell back against the deck. Crates slid down next to me. Instinct took over, and I tried to grab anything to hold on to. I slid and slammed into a wooden post, knocking the wind out of me. The mast? I hovered there for a few moments and watched the man and dog crash against the bulkhead and then spin headfirst over the railing into the water. A second later, I slid around the mast.

    I blinked in confusion for a moment before I realized I was in the water. Powerful waves were pulling at me from every direction. My legs were pulled down and to the side as my shoulders were pulled up. I kicked and tried to find the surface. Then I realized I was already at the surface and that a cascade of waves had been crashing over me, making me feel like I was under the water. There were men and pieces of wood floating all around me. A few feet away, the red-haired man had one arm looped over a large portion of what looked like part of the railing and the other around the dog. The dog faced him with each front paw curved over the man's shoulders, looking miserable. The man looked calm and determined. They clung to each other, riding each wave in a simple rhythm.

    For just a moment, I glimpsed another ship, listing violently against the storm in the distance before I was pulled sharply down. I sank a few feet and kicked against whatever was tugging at me. Something slammed into the back of my head, making me spin and kicked again. The waves pummeled against me, but I could still make out shapes in the water... a few bodies, canvas sails, and rope. Then I saw him. It was the same man from the vision with Sria. He was several feet away and further down, sinking deeper. His legs had been tangled in the rigging of a large section of the mast, and it was pulling him through the water like bait. As he sank, I sank. I began to panic as I was pulled down faster and faster. Then logic took hold the moment I reminded myself this was a vision. The chaos and violence of the surface disappeared as the light grew fainter. The man looked resigned as he plummeted steadily to the bottom. The mast crashed end first into the seafloor then hovered upright for a few moments while he sank past it and landed softly. Then it teetered and fell lengthwise, pinning the man into the soft silt.

    I landed a couple feet away. It was dark, but I could still see vague shapes around me. Other pieces of rigging and cargo fell around us. I tilted my head toward the surface but couldn't see anything. It was too far away to make out. 

    The man was splayed out under the mast, blinking slowly. His chest wasn't moving, but he was still conscious. He looked like he was waiting. A large fish swam up, brushing along the muddy floor and then quickly darted away. I stood up and found I could walk along the bottom. The man started to move. He dug at the soft earth, sending up muddy billows of cloudy water. As he dug, he strained, pushing his body against the mast. Finally, it rolled once, a few inches down his body. The man dug and pushed again. Slowly it turned, and he was able to wiggle one leg out from under its crushing weight. He kicked and pushed against it until he freed his other leg.

    Then he stood up and calmly sat down on the mast, working to free himself from the knotted ropes. It was both curious and surreal, watching him calmly work at the bottom of the sea. Pieces of the ship continued to sink as he tugged and pulled at each loop of the rope. A body, a young man, or possibly a teenager from what I could make out, landed in a slow, soft fall at the other end of the mast. Finally free, the man stood and stared up at the surface. He glanced around and then gazed back up toward the surface again. He seemed to be deciding something, but I couldn't tell what. Suddenly he pushed off and started to swim upward. A few seconds passed by before I felt a sharp tug at my navel, pulling behind him. We passed the stern of the ship sinking steadily past. The man dodged sails, and some large shapeless mass bumped against me.                   

    There was a knock, and a door opened. Footsteps thumped lightly on the floor, in my direction. "Hala cavap yok mu?"

    "Hayır. Henüz çok erkan," the voice next to my head answered. He never stopped brushing my hair, the pressure constant, almost gentle.

    I could see the surface and dozens of pairs of legs kicking in place, some clinging to floating debris and others trying to swim. 

    "Ne yapıyorsun? Sen neden..." the second man asked. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but his voice trailed off as if he was confused.

    "Because the dead have a responsibility to the living," the first man answered, switching to English. Was that for my benefit? He sounded stern, his voice clipped, almost angry.

    The man broke through the water, was slammed under once more, and then hauled himself onto a large piece of wreckage.

    "And which is she, dead or living?"

    "I don't know yet."

    I broke through the surface a moment after he did, waves crashed into me, one after another.

    I pulled myself out of the vision and struggled for a moment, straining to listen to the conversation. "Zaman geldi. Herkes hazır," the second man said quietly. The first man moved away from me for a moment and then settled back.

    "Peki. Yürü."

    The second man turned and left, his steps echoing quickly toward the door. The first man lightly traced his fingers along my skin next to my hairline. Then he lifted my hair and started twisting it in what felt like a braid. I couldn't control my body's reactions in any way. This strange man's gentle touch mixed with anxiety was so confusing. I remembered the face in my vision. Why was he so familiar?

     "Çünkü ölümüm yașama karșı bir sorumluğu var," he whispered in my ear. "Which one are you, living or dead?" His warm breath against my neck sent cold chills down my skin.

    What the hell was that supposed to mean?

    I opened my eyes to darkness and my ears to silence. The room was dark, only a faint sliver of light fell through a pair of windowed doors, left open, onto a balcony. Something felt strange. I stared at some gauzy curtains hanging in front of the doors. They were vague shapes in the darkness until I realized what the strangeness was. Stillness. I was surrounded by complete silence. Nothing moved. The curtains hung limp and lifeless. I couldn't hear the sound of movement anywhere around me. No sounds of life.

I breathed in and out, then relaxed.  I could breathe!  I could hear my own breath. My sense of hearing hadn't abandoned me. I breathed slowly and listened to the absence of any other sound. It was strangely relaxing and exhilarating at the same time. I allowed my mind to stray. I remembered everything from my convalescence but in an uneasy dreamlike way. No, that was not exactly right. Not in a dreamlike way but the lingering after-effects of a dream. Like the emotion and adrenaline a dream leaves in its wake while the substance of the dream itself slowly disappears.

I was alone in the room. I tried to clench my fist, and my hand obeyed me. I could move! The relief was unexpected and incredible. Each fraction of motion was exquisite. I wiggled my fingers and then my feet. I never felt anything more wonderful. I wanted to sing. After struggling a bit, I finally managed to sit up. I had been laid out on a long table, and someone had dressed me in a short nightgown that draped mid-thigh with thin spaghetti straps over my shoulders. My hair had been tied into a thick braid.  

Tingles traveled up my legs as they dangled over the edge of the table, blood finally flowing freely through them. Somehow I slid to my feet gently and stood for a moment allowing my equilibrium to settle. I had one goal and no time to lose. After a few wobbling steps, I found my stride and walked to the balcony. The building was old, the ceiling soared at least fourteen feet above, and the balcony looked like some kind of stone composite— old, but well maintained. The balcony was, at least, six or seven stories above the street and overlooked a narrow river, or possibly a large canal. Boats of various sizes and shapes dotted its banks. Beyond that, I saw hundreds of buildings clustered together. Speckled haphazardly were spire-like minarets from mosques. The city was enormous and sprawled out, unending, across the landscape.

Istanbul.   

I turned back into the room and walked toward the door. I stopped to listen. There were no sounds. The building felt completely deserted. I thought of the glowing lights, the energy I sensed when I first regained consciousness that had been moving around me. They were bright and concentrated points of energy. They had to have been people— the man from the vision and others. I had sensed dozens of energies.

    Then I realized I had also felt the pulse and throb of energy from the landscape around me while I was down. As I thought about it, I remembered the millions of different points of light from the trees, the insects, birds, rodents, even the sea itself somewhere nearby. There was so much life in the sea. It was as if the water itself was alive. It was similar to the pulses I felt from the forest after I was attacked by Esther, but so much stronger.

I closed my eyes and stretched out my arms, waiting to sense the waves of energy outside the room. Nothing happened. I knew it must still be there, but the sensation was gone. Almost all gone. There was something faint nearby.

I pulled the knob of the door, but it didn't budge. It was locked. They had locked me in the room. I wasn't surprised. But the doors to the balcony were open.

    They underestimated me.

I squinted at the balcony skeptically. Seven stories up, the fall would kill me... again. I paced across to the room a few times, considering. I loved the feeling of walking barefoot. The balcony's cold stone soaked into the skin of the soles of my feet. The smooth hardwood of the room felt warmer but still fresh and crisp as I padded silently through the dark. 

There was a wide round drain anchored into the exterior wall about a foot from the balcony. I could swing my leg to it. I would just need to work my way slowly down it to the street without being seen. I didn't know what time it was, but I knew it was late. The sky was an inky black. That meant dawn wasn't too far off. If I was lucky, I might have a couple hours.

I didn't think— I plunged. I slid my legs over the railing and clung with my fingertips to the edge. The pipe wasn't far, but there was nowhere for my feet to rest. I wrapped my fingers around the pipe and dug my toes into the faintest crevices in the wall. Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, I worked my way down. I was sweating, and my newly reborn muscles were screaming in protest by the time I scrambled to the bottom.

I gulped in air as I scanned the street. I didn't think anyone had seen me, but I had to be quick. I darted across the sidewalk to the bank of the river and slipped like a thief over the edge and onto a dock. The line of boats was endless, each bobbing gently to the soft lapping of the water against their hulls.

I scurried, crouching along the dock, from boat to boat for what seemed like an agonizingly long time, but in reality, it was probably only a few minutes. I heard footsteps nearby on the sidewalk above me, and soft voices murmuring. People were approaching the street. Without knowing if it was my kidnappers coming back or people getting an early start to their workday, I couldn't take a risk. I had to hide. I found a boat, slightly larger than the others with some large metal boxes and rigging piled on its deck. I slipped in among them and ducked, making myself as small as possible.

Between the boxes, I could see men and women walking in small groups, a few in pairs, and every once in a while, someone alone. I couldn't make out what language they were speaking, but they talked lazily, soft, and weary. Eventually, they passed, followed by a long moment of perfect silence, the quiet only broken by the rhythmic lapping of the water. A couple came around a corner and then another. The street was never empty long enough for me to risk revealing myself. I waited, watching people pass as the sky lightened, threatening me each second with more light.         

    A binding flitted across my arms. I sat up slightly, just enough to peer my head over the cargo and scanned the street and then the dock. At first, there was no one. The street was empty, and then I saw him. Down the block, I watched a man climb off a motorcycle and then freeze. He eyed the street searching. He was Avati. I knew it like I knew my own breath. The pull toward him tugged at my navel and vibrated the air around me.

    He started walking toward me.

    Shit!  He was going to find me.

    I crawled quietly toward the stern. As I reached the hull, I climbed over the side and eased myself slowly into the water. The hem of my nightgown swirled up around my waist. My breath hitched when the smell of ozone drifted past me. I heard soft footsteps drop down on the dock above me, and I dipped under the water.

    I braced myself, pressing my hands against the hull to keep myself from floating back up. The boat dipped and swayed as someone stepped on board. I pushed myself lower, kicking lightly to keep my legs down. I knew I had to get away from the boat, to swim somewhere, anywhere and quickly, but my lungs were starting to burn, and I couldn't see where to go. If I skimmed the bottom of the river, he might not see me. Before this thought had fully formed, I felt someone grip a large handful of hair and pull me out of water. I clamped my fingers around his wrist and spun in confusion. Then I was standing, sputtering on the boat. The soft cotton cloth clung to my body, and I was suddenly embarrassed. I tried to pull it away and then stopped as I realized I was making it worse.

    In front of me was a man with skin so black his eyes and teeth glowed as if they floated disembodied in the darkness. He had dozens of long dark dreadlocks that hung down to the middle of his back. He wore dark pants with a black t-shirt stretched across his chest. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. I stood gaping at him awkwardly.

    He gazed back at me, curious. "Not an ideal spot for a swim."

    I blinked in surprise. The voice belonged to the second mystery man I'd heard during my immobility.

    "I take what I can get," I answered. "Who are you?"

    He chuckled.

    "My name is Tem." He inclined his head, then leaned casually against one of the boxes. He studied me, eyeing my face and body almost critically. I became more conscious of my clinging cotton nightgown. "You are the child?" he asked, but his voice was edge somewhere between a question and a statement.

    I shrugged and then nodded once. He nodded back and then straightened up. I couldn't decide if I should run, scream, or continue talking to him. He held his hand out to me, "Come."

    I leaned back slightly away from him, and my eyes darted toward the street above me.

    "I could snap your neck, and we'd be gone before you could take a full breath to scream," he said, reading my thoughts. My heart galloped in my chest. "You've already been dead for days. I don't want to do that. Please don't make me." He held his hand out again, palm up in an inviting gesture.

    "Come."

Well, so much for escape.

What do you think Tem wants with Kaja?

TEASER: His smile was slow this time.  "American," he said.  "Makes you dangerous.  They will like that. Older than usual.  Some will like that too." 

What do you think is going on?