Architect: The Goodpasture Chronicles (Book 3)

Chapter One

Akolo sat on a flat rock and attempted to kick the dirt and sand from his sandals. He was

only moderately successful at this now-familiar evening routine. His feet hurt, his back hurt and

his head hurt from walking under the relentless, blazing sun. But for a moment, anyway, he

chose to overlook the pain of traveling. Behind him, the sun was setting, painting a golden glow

on the hilt of his sword. Well, it was more of a dagger, but it was his; a gift from the king

himself, or so the high priest had told him.

“For being a good and helpful servant,” the high priest had said. They had even given

him a belt and a leather sheath to hold what he now considered his second most prized

possession. The bracelet his friend had given him still held highest honors. Trailing both of these

beloved items, but not far behind, was the fire opal that he kept hidden in the pocket of his tunic.

He slipped his hand from the hilt of his dagger into that very pocket and caressed the stone. It

was both cool and warm to the touch, something that continually bewildered him, but also felt

right somehow.

The caravan he’d been traveling with was far smaller than the one that had escorted him

to the king’s palace so many months ago. He counted 73 travelers, including himself. He seemed

to count a lot of things lately. His friend with the bracelet taught him. It helped to pass the time

during the long walks—people, steps, pomegranate seeds, days and nights. Some of the 73

travelers he had met before, including the high priest, of course, and his family, but most were

strangers. Soldiers made up the rest of the group. Unlike during the previous trip, when they

didn’t understand the power within the holy items they carried, the soldiers took great care to

distance themselves from the mystical items that were being returned to the temple in his

hometown.

But was it his hometown anymore? He had learned long ago that his family was gone.

His sisters, mother and father—dead. The king had said so. Unless…

No. They were gone. He was well and truly alone.

Sadness and anger swirled within him. Like…what was that word his friend had used?

Tornado. They swirled like a tornado.Akolo knew they had been traveling exactly twenty-one days so far because of the marks

on his belt. He made one with sharp stone each morning when the sun rose, much as his friend

had done to tally the days they lived in the palace.

That seemed so long ago.

Akolo missed his friend. The guards were mystified by the boy’s sudden disappearance,

even delaying their departure from the palace by a day in order to search for him. Akolo didn’t

know where his friend had gone either, which was exactly what he told the King when

summoned to him the morning they were supposed to depart. If Akolo closed his eyes, he could

still see the King’s piercing stare, the furrowed brow; he could still feel the sweat dripping down

his neck as he awaited the King’s response to his assertion. Akolo was telling the truth. He didn’t

know where the boy…where…Zach had gone.

Zach.

Already the name felt foreign to him. As if the months spent with his friend were a

dream. Akolo looked down at the bracelet on his wrist.

“No,” he said aloud. “Not a dream. It was real.”

“What was real?”

The voice came from behind, startling him. He didn’t need to turn to know to whom it

belonged, though. They might have only been traveling for 21 days, but Akolo easily recognized

the high priest’s daughter’s honey-sweet voice. He turned halfway around and looked up at her.

She stood mostly in shadow, a silhouette against the setting sun, but firelight from the altar in

front of him danced in her eyes.

Akolo didn’t have a word for the way Esme made him feel. But if he did, it would have

been a big word, something with lots of colors and facets, like the myriad stones on the king’s

crown. He stared at her eyes, her emerald-green eyes, the color unlike any he had ever seen, and

he’d seen a lot of colors. Especially in the Royal Gardens, with its many flowers. Her long hair

was dark, like midnight, and tucked like a shadow behind her rust-colored hood. Akolo had

always believed his mother was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

Akolo felt guilty, and maybe a little embarrassed at this thought and turned back to face

the raging fire. Maybe in the firelight, she wouldn’t notice his flushing cheeks.Esme walked up beside him and paused, also staring into the flames. He stole another

glance at her, studying her distinct profile in the flickering light, admiring the slope of her nose,

the gentle curve of her chin. He longed for her to turn toward him, but somehow also feared her

gaze. Not because she was scary. Quite the opposite. She was hope and peace and joy and

wonder.

All the things he once enjoyed with his family.

Akolo turned back toward the fire and sighed.

“What was that for?” Esme asked.

He didn’t dare look at her. His feelings were too close to the surface. Memories of his

family could so easily bring tears.

He cleared his throat. “I just…” he paused, then thought of a way to change the subject.

“I just was wondering what the fires were for.”

Esme tapped his shoulder, urged him to slide over. The touch of her hand against his bare

arm felt like a spark, but he didn’t hesitate. He scooted over so he was just barely balancing on

the rock, giving her more than half of the surface for herself.

“They remind us of our God. Do you not light fires for your God?” she asked.

Akolo thought back to his time at the palace. He had seen the fires before but hadn’t

asked about them. He’d been too busy playing the role the king said he was born for: to be an

intermediary between the king and the God of Akolo’s people. That word had confused him at

first, but Zach explained it later. He was a go-between. Like a messenger. He had another role,

too: to imbue artifacts with his God’s power. Imbue. Zach had to explain that word to him, too.

Akolo let his mind wander further back in time, to his observations of the temple

practices at home: the incense burning, the animal sacrifices. Both of those used fire. But this fire

before him was something different. An improvised square stone structure with sides as long as

the tallest man among them, and walls as tall as Akolo’s waist had been filled with branches and

sticks gathered from bushes and trees, and even some of the dried fruit they had brought with

them, then lit with one of the torches the soldiers carried. The flames had started out small, then

quickly grew to the height of three men. The fire continued to rage as soldiers added more fuel to

the pyre. Its shape reminded him of the tower where he and his friend had stayed for months.

“Not like this,” he said, finally answering Esme’s question.“I don’t fully understand it myself,” said Esme. He felt the shrug of her shoulders against

his. “I’d ask my father, but he probably would just say I needn’t worry about such things.” Her

voice brightened when she spoke up again. “Good thoughts, good words, good deeds.”

Akolo scrunched his face into a question and turned toward her. “Huh?” he said.

“It’s what our God asks of us,” she said. Then she corrected herself, “I mean my God. I

don’t know yours.”

Akolo thought about that as the sun finally set behind them. “I guess my God asks that,

too.” But was that right? The only thing he really knew about his God was that he was powerful,

and that he dwelled in the temple and sometimes whispered to the special people who were

allowed into his presence.

People like him.

As the sun disappeared behind them, the camp took on an eerie glow. A number of men,

including Esme’s father, the high priest, stood near the fire. Too close for Akolo’s comfort, but

the men didn’t seem bothered by the heat.

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the men’s whispered prayers

accompanied by the spit and spat of sparks. The sound was mesmerizing, like a song you

couldn’t quite hear.

Akolo’s eyes felt heavy. He would sleep well tonight; he was sure of it. Even on the

rocky ground.

“I’m sorry about your family.” Esme’s words drifted like ash into Akolo’s thoughts and

lingered there. It was the first time she’d acknowledged his tragic story. But what do you say to

that?

He decided on the simplest of responses, to avoid tripping over words or stumbling into a

deeper sadness. “Thanks.”

“My father really likes you,” she added a moment later.

That brought a small smile to Akolo’s face.

“I do, too,” she added.

Warmth poured over Akolo like sweet honey dripping from the comb. This time, it wasn’t

from the nearby fire. He turned toward Esme, but something off in the distance drew his

attention. Flickering lights. But they were nowhere near any town or village.The prayers abated. Soldiers rushed to douse the tower of flames, scooping sand onto

their long tunics and pouring it onto the makeshift altar.

New whispers reached Akolo’s ears, but these weren’t prayers. These were words of

warning.

“We must leave at once!” The words cut through the eerie silence like a sharpened sword

through a ripe pomegranate. Akolo wasn’t even sure who spoke them. He was too focused on the

soft hand that had grabbed his.Chapter Two

Zach couldn’t recall the last time he felt so rested. He looked up from his nearly empty

plate to check the kitchen clock not for the first time since returning home.

Time.

He couldn’t make sense of it. But who could, really? He’d been away for a long time.

The calendar said it was a matter of weeks. But his gut said it was far more. Was his gut lying to

him? If his gut was lying to him, his hair certainly was not. It had grown at least 6 inches since

his family had last seen him, and his curls were unruly.

“Well?”

Zach turned toward the sound of Ariel’s voice. She sat to his right. His mother was across

from him, his father to his left. He was home. Eating breakfast. With his family.

“Well, what?” he said.

“Are you going to tell us about your little adventure or not?” she continued. Ariel’s tone

was a blend of curiosity and snark. Yeah. He was definitely home.

“I’m not sure what to say.” This was becoming truer by the minute. After sleeping in his

own bed for 11 hours straight, he was still only waking up. His mind was always a little fuzzy

first thing in the morning, but this was a different kind of fuzzy. When he tried to recount recent

memories, they skittered away, hiding just in the periphery. He could only see glimpses: an

ancient land; a man with a patch over one eye; a palace; a magnificent, terraced garden. Lots of

stone and sand.

And a boy. This memory was both the most insistent and the blurriest. He struggled to

pull it into focus.

“It all seems like a dream, you know?” he said, finally. That was the truest thing he could

say.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” said his dad. Zach turned to look at his

father. His father’s gaze had always been a little intense, usually in a good way, but there was

something different about his eyes today. They were softer. More like his mother’s eyes.

“So much for story time at the Keanes.” Ariel’s half-whispered words sounded a lot like a

cartoon ‘harrumph’ to Zach. The thought made him laugh.

“What’s so funny?” asked Ariel.“Nothing,” said Zach.

“Fine. If you aren’t going to talk about your adventure, can we talk about what happened

last night?” Ariel asked.

“What do you mean?” his mother asked. Zach had seen his mother wipe away tears more

than a few times since returning home. She was doing it yet again.

“The house? Did no one else feel the house shake last night?”

Zach didn’t recall the house shaking, and by the blank looks on his parents’ faces, neither

had they. Then again, they all had been a little distracted by his return.

“Do you mean from the storm?” his dad asked.

Ariel huffed again, then abruptly scooted away from the table, the chair nearly tipping

over when she stood.

“No Dad! I know what a storm sounds like. In case you forgot, like everyone else, I’ve

already been though a few so far! I don’t get it!” she said, fire in her voice. “It’s like you’re all

hypnotized or something. Can’t you see it? This place, this house is trying to destroy us! Why

can’t anyone else see that?” She stood there for a nanosecond, then spun on her heels and left,

heading for the stairs at first, then doing a 180 and walking toward the front door.

“Ariel…wait…” Lyana started to get up.

“I’ll go,” Ian said. He placed his hand on Lyana’s, keeping her from following Ariel, then

stood. “We’re all a bit out of sorts, and for good reason. It’s entirely possible we missed

something yesterday with all that was going on. I’ll make sure she has space to speak her mind.”

He took a sip of his coffee, then followed after Ariel.

Zach didn’t think it was that simple as everyone being “out of sorts.” Something strange

had happened, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Usually, Zach would be the first to offer

theories, but now he found himself just as silent as his parents. The house definitely had been up

to something. But was that something nefarious or helpful? The answer to that question was just

as blurry as his recent memories.

“I don’t know why my memory is so messy,” he said once the front door had closed

behind his dad. “Maybe writing things down will help me remember.” Zach excused himself

from the table, started toward the stairs as his sister had done, then paused. He stepped toward

his mother and gave her an awkward hug. All his hugs felt at least a little bit awkward, but this

one seemed important. She held him tight for a moment, then released him.“I think that’s a good idea,” she said. She wiped yet another tear from her eyes. Maybe

the hug was a bad idea after all.

“I can help clean up from breakfast first…” he offered.

“I’ve got this. You go do what you need to do,” his mother said. She turned to look out

the kitchen window. Zach studied her profile for a moment, then headed upstairs to his room.

*

“Ariel, hold up.”

Ariel didn’t want to “hold up.” She wanted to keep walking. She had started down the

long driveway, but without any destination in mind. She just wanted to be as far away from this

house as possible. Why couldn’t her parents see the truth? It wasn’t safe here. Still, she slowed

her pace, allowing her father to catch up. She didn’t turn to look at him.

“Honey, I’m sorry if we’ve not been listening to you. We’ve been distracted and…”

“Ya think?” She immediately regretted her tone. “Sorry. I’m just…” She stopped walking

but didn’t dare turn toward her father. It wasn’t that she was afraid he’d be angry; she simply

didn’t trust her own emotions in that moment. “Last night,” she began, then took a deep breath to

steady herself, “I felt the house shake. Could it have been from the storm? Maybe. But by then

the storm had mostly subsided. It felt more like an earthquake. Or at least what I think an

earthquake would feel like. I don’t know. Something just felt really off…”

“Maybe it…”

She didn’t let him finish. “Something has felt really off about this house since pretty

much the day we moved in. You know I’m right. Please tell me you know this.” She definitely

couldn’t turn toward him now. What if he didn’t acknowledge the truth? What if she was the only

one who remembered everything that had happened to them?

“I do know this.”

She took a deep breath.

“There is something about this place,” he continued, then stopped. “But your mother is

convinced that we need to be here. I’m not sure how to explain it. It’s like…something bigger is

at play. I didn’t know what to believe before. But now? I think she’s right.”Ariel was incredulous. “What changed your mind?” she snarked. “Was it the murdered

chickens? Zach’s disappearance? Or the way he suddenly reappeared in a flooded storm shelter?

I don’t get it, Dad. I honestly just don’t get it. Nothing good has happened since we moved

here…”

“Wait, that’s not entirely true, Ariel...”

“It’s not? Okay,” she turned toward him, steeling herself from the twisting emotions that

threatened to spill out of her. “Tell me three good things that have happened to us since we

moved.”

When her father didn’t immediately respond, she huffed, “I thought so,” then started

walking down the driveway again.

“Wait, I…”

“Just leave me alone!” She felt a little bad about that and added, “Just for a little while,

okay? I promise I won’t get lost in the woods. I’ll be back later. Maybe by then you’ll have come

up with a list.” She didn’t need to say that last part, but it slipped out anyway. Her father didn’t

reply. And he didn’t follow. In a matter of minutes, she was alone, surrounded on both sides by

rows of tall trees and thick privet. Daylight flickered through the leaves, painting dappled

shadows on the path before her.

She walked in silence until she reached the road at the end of the driveway, then found a

fallen log to sit on. She bent forward, her head in her hands, and willed herself to cry. To feel

something. But all she felt was anger. And sadness. They had almost lost Zach, but she was

feeling a different kind of loss. The loss of her entire family.

*

Zach stared at the blank page in front of him. He had considered typing his thoughts on

his computer but then thought better of it. Technology had always been a fascination of his, but

right now he wasn’t sure he could trust tech. Pencil and paper surely wouldn’t betray him.

He laughed at his cartoon-like paranoia, then put pencil to paper and began to write.

I don’t know where to begin, but here’s what I remember.I was heading to my room…weeks ago? Months? The calendar says weeks, but my brain

says it was longer. Anyway, I think I walked through a time portal or something like that.

Suddenly, I was a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. Kidding. It was this galaxy. But the

“long time ago” thing was true.

Time travel isn’t anything like what you see in movies. I didn’t see any swirly colors or

anything like that. One minute I was home, the next I was there. I guess there might have been

some fog or mist or something between places.

The thing that’s clearest to me is the trip home. I remember running down a long hallway

and opening a door, then climbing a bunch of stairs only to end up in the tornado shelter outside

my home. But all the other memories are difficult to describe. It’s like when you wake up from a

dream and you know it was really specific and clear while you slept, but the words to describe

that dream don’t exist or something. I do know there was a king and a palace and a high priest

with one eye and a boy about my age. Maybe a little younger. And there was a temple. I

remember a dream my sister and I both had a while ago—yeah, we had the same dream, or it

appeared like we did anyway—and it was a lot like that.

But was this just a dream, too? And if it was, where have I been for the last few weeks?

Gotta say, writing this down isn’t helping much. But it does feel good to hear the scratch

of graphite on paper again. I mean, it’s annoying, too, but it’s familiar. Most of those hazy

memories are the opposite of familiar.

That’s all I have right now.

Oh, one more thing. For some reason I wanted pomegranate seeds for breakfast. We

didn’t have any, but Mom said she’d get them next time she went shopping. Here’s what confuses

me, though – I don’t think I’ve ever had pomegranate seeds. So, what is that all about?

Zach set his pencil down and took a moment to review his work. His handwriting had

always been a source of pride—he was meticulous with every stroke, often to a fault. But it had

been a while since he held a pencil and the lack of practice showed in slightly uneven lines and a

few crossed-out words. He considered starting over, then shrugged and decided “good enough”

was enough this time.

“Huh,” he said aloud. “Good enough” was a new feeling.*

Lyana had just finished loading the dishwasher when Ian walked in the front door. She

didn’t need to ask if he’d had any success talking with Ariel. She didn’t even need to see the look

on his face. Ariel had been holding things together by a thread for quite a while. And yet,

somehow Ariel had remained calm and collected when Lyana went on a manic painting spree,

driven by images in her head she couldn’t shake. Images that led Ariel to figure out where Zach

would be found. Lyana glanced over at the stack of paintings that sat on the kitchen counter. It

had all been too much. No wonder Ariel was falling apart.

“She doesn’t want to talk,” said Ian. He stood by the door looking defeated.

Lyana walked over and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her in return, and they

stood there in silence for a moment.

“She doesn’t want to stay here,” Ian said, still holding tight to Lyana.

Lyana gently pulled away from the hug and looked her husband in the eyes. “It’s

understandable,” she said. Then she laughed. “Moving to Littleton has been the

most…confounding experience for all of us. Maybe most of all for Ariel. I mean, she’s a

teenager, and that’s difficult enough as it is.” She sighed. “But…”

“You still believe we need to stay. That this is meant to be.”

She nodded.

“I wish I could explain it to Ariel, but I barely understand it myself,” said Ian. “I wasn’t

so sure before. But now? I’m convinced that this is exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

She had felt that way for a long time. Zach’s disappearance should have made her

question the journey they were on. Instead, it only reaffirmed that they were doing the right thing

by staying in Littleton. In this house.

“You know,” began Ian. “We’re kind of like the characters in those horror movies who

stay in the scary house even though they know there’s a killer loose. Everyone watching the

movie is shouting, ‘get out of there!’” He paused, then shook his head. “But, no, this is different

because there’s no killer here.”

Lyana suddenly felt cold. What if she was wrong? What if the house was trying to hurt

them?

“Ariel is shouting at us to get out,” said Lyana. Was Ariel the only sane one in the family?Neither of them spoke for a moment.

“Do you remember the day she tried to run away from home?” asked Ian.

“How could I forget?”

“She was almost twelve. And so upset that we wouldn’t let her have a pet snake.”

“She didn’t get very far…”

“No. But she had her little suitcase all packed and ready to go.”

Lyana shook her head, recalling the way Ariel had huffed and marched right out the front

door. Ian had followed a short distance behind to make sure Ariel was safe, but the very idea of

her daughter running away from home was seared into Lyana’s brain. She was confident Ariel

would be back soon—she’d only packed a few crackers and a bottle of juice, after all—but that

didn’t do much to mitigate the heartache she felt as she watched her only daughter walking away.

Lyana gasped as that same feeling bubbled to the surface again.

“Are you okay?” Ian asked.

“I just hope we’re doing the right thing, you know?”

All those years ago, they had given Ariel space to express her disappointment. And that’s

all she needed. Just 20 minutes later, she was back home, hugging her mom, apologizing for

running away. She still wanted a snake, of course. But she would wait until she was an adult and

living on her own to get one. She hadn’t said another word about a snake since.

They could laugh about the experience now. But today’s concern was anything but a

laughing matter.

Wind whistled through the kitchen window. Strangely, Lyana didn’t remember opening it.

“Ariel will be okay. I’m sure of it. She just needs more time to process everything. I

mean, all of us do,” said Ian. “Maybe Zach most of all.”

“I have so many questions to ask him. But he seems hesitant to talk.”

“Give him time,” said Ian.

“I wonder what he must be thinking.”

They had so little information about what had happened to their son, it was impossible to

guess what he was going through. Lyana hoped they could have a long talk with him soon. Once

the fog cleared.

“How are we going to explain Zach’s sudden reappearance?” said Lyana. Everyone had

presumed he was dead. That thought dropped a sinking feeling in her stomach.“I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” said Ian. “What if we say he got lost in the woods.

Maybe he hit his head and lost his memory and was taken in by someone who is off the grid and

didn’t know about the missing person report.”

Lyana shook her head. “That’s like a terrible movie plot. No one is going to believe that.”

“Okay, what about this: he hit his head and got lost in the woods and then found shelter in

a cave that happened to be a wolf’s den and the wolves helped keep him safe until he regained

his memory.”

“That’s even worse. Be serous, Ian. This is going to come up.”

“Should we just tell them he time traveled somewhere for a few weeks and then suddenly

reappeared in our storm shelter?”

Lyana laughed. “That might be more believable than your other suggestions.”

“Maybe we should just ask Zach. He’ll probably have a good idea or two,” said Ian.

Lyana paled. “Lloyd was there. What if he says something? We’ll be branded as the crazy

family.”

Ian placed his hand on Lyana’s shoulder. “Lloyd is a good man. I don’t think he’ll say

anything. At least not anything that makes us seem crazier than we already are. For all anyone

knows, he borrowed that truck to pump water out of our house. No one needs to know any more

about that.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“And I’m sure Ariel will be fine in time,” said Ian. “She just needs some space.”

Lyana wished it was that simple. Something even deeper than the mysteries surrounding

their house was bothering her daughter.

*

An unfamiliar car slowed to a stop along the road by their driveway and Ariel stiffened.

Thoughts of kidnapping came, unbidden. Or maybe they were bidden. She had, after all, lost her

brother for weeks and there still was no explanation for his absence.

She relaxed when Lloyd climbed out of the passenger seat then sent the driver on her

way.

“Hey, Ariel.” He walked up to her and stopped. “Out for a little fresh air?”“Something like that.” Maybe Lloyd would have some wisdom about their situation.

“What…what happened out there yesterday?” She gestured in the general direction of their

house.

Lloyd shrugged. “Something that’s impossible to explain, I think.”

“Ya think?”

Lloyd laughed. “What do you think happened?”

“I think this house, this land is haunted and we’re just being toyed with before something

truly terrible happens,” said Ariel. She hadn’t put it into such succinct words before.

Lloyd nodded. “Could be,” he said. “Or it could be an avalanche of strange

coincidences.”

“Could it?”

Lloyd shook his head. “Probably the haunted thing,” he said. “We may never know. I

suspect that will be difficult to accept—not knowing. But sometimes not knowing is the best we

can hope for.”

“I just don’t know what’s true anymore,” she said.

“‘Doubt is the key to knowledge.’”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s an old Persian proverb. I have a feeling it may apply here. Or not.” He shrugged

again.

Ariel liked the way he shrugged. He seemed so comfortable in his own skin. But how

could anyone be comfortable in their own skin after experiencing so much heartache? She

couldn’t imagine what it was like for Lloyd to lose his wife and daughter so suddenly in a car

accident. Well, maybe now she could imagine it a little. But she didn’t want to.

“I just came by to collect the truck,” he added. “I’m assuming your parents…and

Zach…are home?”

“Yeah. Unless they’ve all been swallowed up by a random vortex.”

“I’ll be careful to avoid any random vortexes.” Lloyd started down the driveway, then

paused. He turned to Ariel. “Let me know when you want to schedule that burping contest now

that Zach is back.” He winked at her.

Ariel laughed, despite herself. Lloyd didn’t wait for a response. He wasn’t expecting one

anyway.Zach is back, she thought to herself.

But where was he?