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Erika M Szabo
When my daughter challenged me to write a book when I couldn't find any good stories to read, I started thinking about a story that I would enjoy reading. What if there is a secret society with strict rules and laws exist hidden among us? What if certain members come to possess magical powers? What if those abilities could be used to do good or evil? I’ve never excelled in following rules or formulas, so I discarded the instructions I found on “how to write fiction” books", and I made up my own rules. At first, I started playing with the story just for my own enjoyment, and I thought, writing the swirling ideas in my head was far better than being haunted by them. But then, I kept writing for months, and soon I realized that I never had so much fun doing anything in my life before.
When my daughter challenged me to write a book when I couldn't find any good stories to read, I started thinking about a story that I would enjoy reading. What if there is a secret society with strict rules and laws exist hidden among us? What if certain members come to possess magical powers? What if those abilities could be used to do good or evil? I’ve never excelled in following rules or formulas, so I discarded the instructions I found on “how to write fiction” books", and I made up my own rules. At first, I started playing with the story just for my own enjoyment, and I thought, writing the swirling ideas in my head was far better than being haunted by them. But then, I kept writing for months, and soon I realized that I never had so much fun doing anything in my life before.
The Ancestors' Secrets:
A speculative historical fiction-epic fantasy - magical realism trilogy
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The trilogy will be re-published with new paperback covers in February.
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The eBooks are 99 cents to $1.99 in my bookstore
Order signed prints or for faster delivery,
click to see the Amazon and B&N links
Click to read free chapters from the series
Book one: Protected by the Falcon
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Audio book & Spanish edition |
Audio book
Listen to the audio book   |
Spanish edition
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Morana waited centuries for the chance to reunite with her beloved Joland and gain the power to rule the ancient clan that still exist hidden among us with its strict hierarchy, deadly rules and traditions. Ilona doesn’t know that she was chosen to stop Morana’s evil plan. She doesn't know about her heritage besides legends and rituals when begins to remember her mother’s instructions concealed as rhymes and is unaware that her pleasant life as a doctor is about to change and she will be thrown into a dangerous world filled with secrets. The discovery of her healing power and ability to freeze time is exciting and frightening. A sinister man appears, and Ilona connects his presence with the series of mysterious deaths around her. She has been in love with her unsuspecting best friend when she meets a stranger. She is drawn to him and confused by the sudden magnetic feeling.
“Erika has brought a new kind of fantasy story into the realm of fantasy fiction. The narrative is magnetic and entertaining.” ~seriousreading.com
“Erika has brought a new kind of fantasy story into the realm of fantasy fiction. The narrative is magnetic and entertaining.” ~seriousreading.com
For retailers, bookstores, and libraries, this book is available from INGRAM with returnability option
ISBN 10: 9780991211661
ISBN 13: 978-0-9912116-6-1
ISBN 10: 9780991211661
ISBN 13: 978-0-9912116-6-1
Book Two: Chosen by the Sword
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Audio book & Spanish edition
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Listen to the audio book   |
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In book one, Protected by the Falcon, Ilona is thrust from her easy and steady life and forced to face the unknown, which prompts her to discover ancient tribal secrets. In book two, she obtains unimaginable abilities to protect her family and the future of her people. She can use her powers for absolute good or absolute evil; the choice is up to her. Ilona’s birthright as a Healer runs alongside her desires as a woman. She must sort through her feelings about the men in her life. Travel with Ilona from the time her people were nomads, to the castles of the 14th century, to present day, as she struggles to overcome the obstacles placed in her path.
“This is so different from the usual fare churned out by ordinary writers.” -Valerie Byron
“The characters felt real, and the secrets are alluring. You will get hooked in right away.” -Brenda Barry
“Szabo introduces readers to a fascinating world of ancient rights conducted by a secret order.” -J.E. Rogers
“This is so different from the usual fare churned out by ordinary writers.” -Valerie Byron
“The characters felt real, and the secrets are alluring. You will get hooked in right away.” -Brenda Barry
“Szabo introduces readers to a fascinating world of ancient rights conducted by a secret order.” -J.E. Rogers
For retailers, bookstores, and libraries, this book is available from INGRAM with returnability option
ISBN-10: 1-943962-23-5
ISBN-13: 978-1-943962-23-5
ISBN-10: 1-943962-23-5
ISBN-13: 978-1-943962-23-5
Meet the characters
Praises
“I loved the enchanted mystery of the story and how the author was able to capture my attention”
“It’s a great story told from a unique perspective. It didn’t feel like the same old same old”
“Historic fantasy involving ancient traditions and down-to-earth characters of our own world”
“I was enthralled with the complexity and attention to detail”
“This story to truly capture the magical essence of the Hun tradition and the beauty of their rituals”
“Written in a diary-kind format, the different characters tell the a beautiful story”
“It is so original and well written it had me hooked from the start”
“The first sentences grabbed my fascination, and the easy flow of the entire book continually held my interest and curiosity”
“She meets a handsome doctor who seems to be accompanied by an evil presence that she cannot comprehend”
“Thank you Erika, you gave my heart and dreams an immense gif”
“My favorite part was the description of Ema's paintings! What a wonderful idea!”
“I also loved the inner turmoil she had trying figure out her feeling she was having about her best friend and the new handsome man who entered her life”
“I couldn't help but think that there was something not very savory about Zoltan (gosh! I love his name!). I ended up rooting for Bela”
“It’s a great story told from a unique perspective. It didn’t feel like the same old same old”
“Historic fantasy involving ancient traditions and down-to-earth characters of our own world”
“I was enthralled with the complexity and attention to detail”
“This story to truly capture the magical essence of the Hun tradition and the beauty of their rituals”
“Written in a diary-kind format, the different characters tell the a beautiful story”
“It is so original and well written it had me hooked from the start”
“The first sentences grabbed my fascination, and the easy flow of the entire book continually held my interest and curiosity”
“She meets a handsome doctor who seems to be accompanied by an evil presence that she cannot comprehend”
“Thank you Erika, you gave my heart and dreams an immense gif”
“My favorite part was the description of Ema's paintings! What a wonderful idea!”
“I also loved the inner turmoil she had trying figure out her feeling she was having about her best friend and the new handsome man who entered her life”
“I couldn't help but think that there was something not very savory about Zoltan (gosh! I love his name!). I ended up rooting for Bela”
Short teasers from book 1, Protected by the Falcon
Mora
Mora’s castle was well-hidden from prying eyes, deep in the woods on the mountain side. Nobody knew about its existence, only Zelda, her trusted servant throughout the centuries.
The soft humming of her rotating, air-filled mattress relaxed her and protected her withered body from developing bed sores. The Royals and Elders were furious when they found out many centuries ago that Joland had shared the gift of eternal life with her and gave her the power to keep her body young. The Elders separated them, but they couldn’t make them mortal again. She has lived so many lifetimes, alone, because Joland was exiled to a timeline in the distant past. As his punishment, he couldn’t move forward in time with her. The Elders succeeded in taking away the ability to rejuvenate her body, which became bones with wasted muscles and shriveled skin. Although her withered body was useless, the power of her mind allowed her to reach the remotest part of the world and beyond.
Mora closed her eyes and began searching the complicated network of the Collective Memory, in her mind. She murmured under her breath, “The Elders took everything I valued in life from me, but they never found out I could read every word that is written by every gifted Hun, after they have reached maturity, and if they used the ancient letters given to them by the Ancestors.”
Mora’s prune-like face lit up with a grin, “Good girl, Adel. You are the servant of the Leaders and can’t talk to anyone about this, but you just wrote in your diary that the Elders are planning a meeting. Oh, I see. One of them is about to take her last breath, and they need to choose her successor. Hmm… could I use it to my advantage? We’ll see. There is another interesting sentence here; you are worried about your mistress, Cenge. She seems distant and unhappy. Let’s see what our Leader has been writing…” she scoured Cenge’s desk in her mind.
“What?” Mora shouted angrily when she read Cenge’s note in her calendar, “The Chosen One, Ilona, is coming of Age today.” Mora was furious, “I can get into the minds of those who are related to me, but I can’t get into the Elders’ meeting or see the Chosen One. Damn you Ancestors for taking away my powers, and goddamn you for tearing me away from the arms of my beloved, Joland. We’ll be together again one day, my love. I’ll find a way somehow…”
In her fury, Mora clawed a hole in her soft comforter, but then she started seeing unfamiliar handwriting. Someone, unknown to her, was writing a diary with the ancient Hun letters. Mora’s fury calmed instantly as she rejoiced, “Ilona’s diary! She must be the chosen one. They hid her from me, but finally, I can find out who she is.”
The soft humming of her rotating, air-filled mattress relaxed her and protected her withered body from developing bed sores. The Royals and Elders were furious when they found out many centuries ago that Joland had shared the gift of eternal life with her and gave her the power to keep her body young. The Elders separated them, but they couldn’t make them mortal again. She has lived so many lifetimes, alone, because Joland was exiled to a timeline in the distant past. As his punishment, he couldn’t move forward in time with her. The Elders succeeded in taking away the ability to rejuvenate her body, which became bones with wasted muscles and shriveled skin. Although her withered body was useless, the power of her mind allowed her to reach the remotest part of the world and beyond.
Mora closed her eyes and began searching the complicated network of the Collective Memory, in her mind. She murmured under her breath, “The Elders took everything I valued in life from me, but they never found out I could read every word that is written by every gifted Hun, after they have reached maturity, and if they used the ancient letters given to them by the Ancestors.”
Mora’s prune-like face lit up with a grin, “Good girl, Adel. You are the servant of the Leaders and can’t talk to anyone about this, but you just wrote in your diary that the Elders are planning a meeting. Oh, I see. One of them is about to take her last breath, and they need to choose her successor. Hmm… could I use it to my advantage? We’ll see. There is another interesting sentence here; you are worried about your mistress, Cenge. She seems distant and unhappy. Let’s see what our Leader has been writing…” she scoured Cenge’s desk in her mind.
“What?” Mora shouted angrily when she read Cenge’s note in her calendar, “The Chosen One, Ilona, is coming of Age today.” Mora was furious, “I can get into the minds of those who are related to me, but I can’t get into the Elders’ meeting or see the Chosen One. Damn you Ancestors for taking away my powers, and goddamn you for tearing me away from the arms of my beloved, Joland. We’ll be together again one day, my love. I’ll find a way somehow…”
In her fury, Mora clawed a hole in her soft comforter, but then she started seeing unfamiliar handwriting. Someone, unknown to her, was writing a diary with the ancient Hun letters. Mora’s fury calmed instantly as she rejoiced, “Ilona’s diary! She must be the chosen one. They hid her from me, but finally, I can find out who she is.”
Ilona
After a brief touch, during which Elza masked her feelings, she quickly pulled her hand away not letting me read her. She surprised me, but I respected her wish. However, it bothered me that she was trying to hide something from me. To feel that intense yearning inside and then be emotionally rejected affected me more than I could tolerate. I just hoped that after prayer and breakfast, everything would return to normal.
Rua shuffled through the back door and after a quick greeting, Elza handed him a mug filled with freshly brewed coffee. Rua was the groundskeeper, over-all fixer and beloved uncle of my family since I can remember. We often take him for granted, like old, comfortable furniture. He fell off a horse when he was younger. His injuries were so extensive that he lost the use of his right arm. His left leg is shorter than the other and he walks with a limp and a shuffle. He has always been there, and I could not imagine life without him being in it.
I heard Ema skipping down the stairs, singing. I have always loved Elza’s daughter, sensitive and mysterious Ema, as a sister. Physically, both of us have the Hun look, with high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. The only distinction is that Ema has softer features, leaner muscles, and long slender fingers.
After a brief greeting, we gathered in the living room to begin our usual Morning Prayer. The role of leading the ceremony had fallen on my shoulders after my mother had died. Elza insisted on continuing the Hun tradition, so I obliged to please her. When Elza took her place between Ema and Rua, I knew she still didn’t want to touch me. What is she hiding? I thought, feeling hurt. We held hands, making a circle, and I clearly felt their emotions. Ema’s were clear and simple, as always. When she’s happy, she shines with bliss, yet her sadness shows with equal intensity. Although I felt the thorn from her early past deeply set in, she masked it well, but overall, she was happy and excited. However, I could never put my finger on Rua’s repressed emotions. He had made a sacrifice a long time ago, but I couldn’t find out what it was and it had puzzled me since I was very young.
I lit the sacred candles infused with herbs and then placed them in a silver candle holder on a small round table. The ancient wooden male and female figurines holding hands stood between the candles, with our delicately carved Turul bird with a crown on its head and a sword in its talons. The Falcon held widely stretched wings over the figurines as if protecting them.
The statues had been in my family for centuries, they were small, and had a deep, warm brown color. The rich, shiny brown hue came from the hot herbal tea Elza poured over the statues every morning, as my ancestors had done for generations. Beside the statues was an ancient, dark leather-bound book. Its permanent place was on the Prayer table, and every Hun family had one. I had leafed through our book many times. The first few pages remained empty to me, but the rest of the book contained my ancestor’s names and achievements, written in ancient handwriting. Mom had said when I asked her about the empty pages, “The Book will reveal all its secrets to you, but only when you when you reach the age of maturity.” I wondered if I were ready; I was entering into Hun adulthood after all, so I made a mental note to check the book the next day, after prayer time.
Elza wrapped the ceremonial shawl over my shoulders as I took a deep breath and held my hands above the table. I began the prayer by reading the Hun writing, carved into the leather cover of the book of my ancestors. Following the ancient traditions, we prayed as a family in the morning to the First Mother and Father, and we prayed to the Creator at night, in solitude.
Mother and Father leading in unity,
Protected by the Turul for eternity,
Guide my soul and keep my body healthy.
Test my courage and try my patience,
Let me prove I have endurance.
Let compassion always guide me,
Make me wise to help the needy.
Challenge me on my daily journey,
And give me the strength to prove I’m worthy.
Closing my eyes, I held my hands in silence over the table for a minute and embraced the serene feeling I always had while saying the prayer. Warm energy flooded my insides, and I experienced a deep connection to something powerful, majestic and welcoming.
I was still a little angry with Elza for not letting me read her feelings. She was murmuring under her breath, as she did every morning. It was a low, rhythmic humming sound, but I did recognize some of the ancient Hun words. She refused to give me an explanation whenever I asked her about it, but I’d seen her doing the strange whispering, at Morning Prayer, ever since she came to live with us.
Rua shuffled through the back door and after a quick greeting, Elza handed him a mug filled with freshly brewed coffee. Rua was the groundskeeper, over-all fixer and beloved uncle of my family since I can remember. We often take him for granted, like old, comfortable furniture. He fell off a horse when he was younger. His injuries were so extensive that he lost the use of his right arm. His left leg is shorter than the other and he walks with a limp and a shuffle. He has always been there, and I could not imagine life without him being in it.
I heard Ema skipping down the stairs, singing. I have always loved Elza’s daughter, sensitive and mysterious Ema, as a sister. Physically, both of us have the Hun look, with high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. The only distinction is that Ema has softer features, leaner muscles, and long slender fingers.
After a brief greeting, we gathered in the living room to begin our usual Morning Prayer. The role of leading the ceremony had fallen on my shoulders after my mother had died. Elza insisted on continuing the Hun tradition, so I obliged to please her. When Elza took her place between Ema and Rua, I knew she still didn’t want to touch me. What is she hiding? I thought, feeling hurt. We held hands, making a circle, and I clearly felt their emotions. Ema’s were clear and simple, as always. When she’s happy, she shines with bliss, yet her sadness shows with equal intensity. Although I felt the thorn from her early past deeply set in, she masked it well, but overall, she was happy and excited. However, I could never put my finger on Rua’s repressed emotions. He had made a sacrifice a long time ago, but I couldn’t find out what it was and it had puzzled me since I was very young.
I lit the sacred candles infused with herbs and then placed them in a silver candle holder on a small round table. The ancient wooden male and female figurines holding hands stood between the candles, with our delicately carved Turul bird with a crown on its head and a sword in its talons. The Falcon held widely stretched wings over the figurines as if protecting them.
The statues had been in my family for centuries, they were small, and had a deep, warm brown color. The rich, shiny brown hue came from the hot herbal tea Elza poured over the statues every morning, as my ancestors had done for generations. Beside the statues was an ancient, dark leather-bound book. Its permanent place was on the Prayer table, and every Hun family had one. I had leafed through our book many times. The first few pages remained empty to me, but the rest of the book contained my ancestor’s names and achievements, written in ancient handwriting. Mom had said when I asked her about the empty pages, “The Book will reveal all its secrets to you, but only when you when you reach the age of maturity.” I wondered if I were ready; I was entering into Hun adulthood after all, so I made a mental note to check the book the next day, after prayer time.
Elza wrapped the ceremonial shawl over my shoulders as I took a deep breath and held my hands above the table. I began the prayer by reading the Hun writing, carved into the leather cover of the book of my ancestors. Following the ancient traditions, we prayed as a family in the morning to the First Mother and Father, and we prayed to the Creator at night, in solitude.
Mother and Father leading in unity,
Protected by the Turul for eternity,
Guide my soul and keep my body healthy.
Test my courage and try my patience,
Let me prove I have endurance.
Let compassion always guide me,
Make me wise to help the needy.
Challenge me on my daily journey,
And give me the strength to prove I’m worthy.
Closing my eyes, I held my hands in silence over the table for a minute and embraced the serene feeling I always had while saying the prayer. Warm energy flooded my insides, and I experienced a deep connection to something powerful, majestic and welcoming.
I was still a little angry with Elza for not letting me read her feelings. She was murmuring under her breath, as she did every morning. It was a low, rhythmic humming sound, but I did recognize some of the ancient Hun words. She refused to give me an explanation whenever I asked her about it, but I’d seen her doing the strange whispering, at Morning Prayer, ever since she came to live with us.
Zoltan
On the way home, I stopped at the gallery, and as soon as I walked in, I was floored. I looked around and saw a sold sign on every single painting hanging on the walls, at least fifty of them. People were trampling and shoving each other to get a full view of each painting. I realized in astonishment why. The paintings were amazing, and vibrantly alive; I'd never seen anything like it in my life. Some of the paintings were so detailed that I half expected the people in them to blink or speak. Others were more like sketches, but somehow focused, drawing my vision to one point that was almost magical. The noise was annoying though, as if someone was switching channels rapidly on the radio. Sometimes it slowed down and played a tune, and then sped up jumping from piano to violin to guitar, back and forth.
The whole scene was dizzying, and then suddenly I realized there were no speakers. I didn't hear the music with my ears. There wasn’t an external source, I heard the music inside my head. I looked around in alarm and saw the same confusion and shock on many faces. To test my theory, I looked at one small painting and heard a faint Chopin tune playing softly in my mind. I concluded with great relief that I wasn’t losing my mind. I looked at the next one and heard Mozart. As I stood in the middle of the gallery, I scanned the room rapidly, turning around. The cacophony of music was dizzying and deafening. The paintings were triggering the illusion of music playing. Each painting brought about tunes that changed from rapid drums to silky clarinets to vibrant pianos.
Then I heard silver bells, and my body turned toward the sound in the same way a sunflower moves toward the sun.
“Hi Zoltan. What a nice surprise to see you here.” Ilona smiled.
“Oh, hi,” I managed. My heart flipped in my chest when I saw the blond Adonis behind her.
He was casually hugging her shoulder. She turned and introduced him as Bela, her friend. Is he really just a friend? He acts like he’s more than a friend. He has this smirk on his face, like a fat cat who’s swallowed a canary. He hugs her close; he seems to be bragging about owning her, as if he’s a cocky bastard who knows that I don’t even have a chance. He won’t let me have a chance.
The sudden anger I felt took me by surprise. I wanted to choke the poor guy to death, but I hoped my expression didn’t betray me. He stared at me as if he wanted to bore into me, and I was sure he knew exactly how I felt.
“It is nice to meet you, Bela.” I shook his extended hand, behaving like a polite gentleman, but inside bile thoughts swirled in my mind. You greet him politely, but meanwhile, you want to punch him in the face. You want her only for yourself like you want to own her. No, that’s not true. I want to love her and make her happy, and I want her to love me too… Wow. That is a change. I never felt like this before. I have never been jealous in my whole life. And I never really wanted any woman to love me either. I guess I viewed and treated relationships as business. I give you something; you give me something in return, and we’re good. No further attachments. With Ilona, I want more, much more. I calmed my inner turmoil.
I noticed that Bela didn’t have the Hun sign, only a faint scar on his wrist, and he offered his hand for a shake and not for a touch. His grip was very strong. He squeezed my fingers as if his hand were made of iron. Of course, I squeezed back, and noted with great satisfaction that my hand was a little stronger than his. I saw a flicker of pain in his eyes as he loosened his grip slowly, and I did the same. Although it took me a while to peel my fingers apart, it was worth it. I showed him I was up for the challenge.
“Ema, you’re extremely talented.” I turned to the artist, and offered my hand for a Hun greeting, which she accepted. “At first, I thought I was hallucinating, but I figured it out. I really enjoy your paintings.”
“You’re quick,” she complimented me. “Sometimes I have to explain the experience to some people who see them the first time.”
“It is just amazing. How do you do it?”
“I don’t know. It just comes to me. I paint what I feel inside.” Her cell phone rang, and she excused herself to answer it.
“Have you settled in?” Ilona asked me.
“I have most of it done, but I have to go grocery shopping today. I just stopped to check out what the big crowd was about in the gallery.” I smiled at her.
Bela boasted proudly. “Her work always attracts a huge crowd. Usually all the paintings are sold the first day,”
“I can see why,” I responded.
Bela put his arm around Ilona’s waist. “We should go, love,” he said possessively with a smirk on his face. He made sure only I could see it. It boiled my insides, and I wanted to punch his lights out.
“Right, we should. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Ilona asked, turning back to me with a smile.
“Yes, I’ll be there at six,” I assured her.
As they walked out of the gallery his arm was still around her waist. He glanced back with a mocking smirk on his face.
He called her love, and she didn’t mind. What are my chances? Maybe I could be her friend? That’s not enough. I want to be her lover. I want the right to call her “love.” What does he have that I don’t? He’s handsome; I have to admit. He’s probably a good guy; I have to admit that, too. No, I’m not giving up, not a chance. I will knock him out of that saddle. But… what if she loves him? Can I be that selfish to break up her happy relationship? Oh, what would I give to be in his shoes?
I went to the store and busied myself with cooking, and after dinner, I listened to music, all the while daydreaming about her.
The whole scene was dizzying, and then suddenly I realized there were no speakers. I didn't hear the music with my ears. There wasn’t an external source, I heard the music inside my head. I looked around in alarm and saw the same confusion and shock on many faces. To test my theory, I looked at one small painting and heard a faint Chopin tune playing softly in my mind. I concluded with great relief that I wasn’t losing my mind. I looked at the next one and heard Mozart. As I stood in the middle of the gallery, I scanned the room rapidly, turning around. The cacophony of music was dizzying and deafening. The paintings were triggering the illusion of music playing. Each painting brought about tunes that changed from rapid drums to silky clarinets to vibrant pianos.
Then I heard silver bells, and my body turned toward the sound in the same way a sunflower moves toward the sun.
“Hi Zoltan. What a nice surprise to see you here.” Ilona smiled.
“Oh, hi,” I managed. My heart flipped in my chest when I saw the blond Adonis behind her.
He was casually hugging her shoulder. She turned and introduced him as Bela, her friend. Is he really just a friend? He acts like he’s more than a friend. He has this smirk on his face, like a fat cat who’s swallowed a canary. He hugs her close; he seems to be bragging about owning her, as if he’s a cocky bastard who knows that I don’t even have a chance. He won’t let me have a chance.
The sudden anger I felt took me by surprise. I wanted to choke the poor guy to death, but I hoped my expression didn’t betray me. He stared at me as if he wanted to bore into me, and I was sure he knew exactly how I felt.
“It is nice to meet you, Bela.” I shook his extended hand, behaving like a polite gentleman, but inside bile thoughts swirled in my mind. You greet him politely, but meanwhile, you want to punch him in the face. You want her only for yourself like you want to own her. No, that’s not true. I want to love her and make her happy, and I want her to love me too… Wow. That is a change. I never felt like this before. I have never been jealous in my whole life. And I never really wanted any woman to love me either. I guess I viewed and treated relationships as business. I give you something; you give me something in return, and we’re good. No further attachments. With Ilona, I want more, much more. I calmed my inner turmoil.
I noticed that Bela didn’t have the Hun sign, only a faint scar on his wrist, and he offered his hand for a shake and not for a touch. His grip was very strong. He squeezed my fingers as if his hand were made of iron. Of course, I squeezed back, and noted with great satisfaction that my hand was a little stronger than his. I saw a flicker of pain in his eyes as he loosened his grip slowly, and I did the same. Although it took me a while to peel my fingers apart, it was worth it. I showed him I was up for the challenge.
“Ema, you’re extremely talented.” I turned to the artist, and offered my hand for a Hun greeting, which she accepted. “At first, I thought I was hallucinating, but I figured it out. I really enjoy your paintings.”
“You’re quick,” she complimented me. “Sometimes I have to explain the experience to some people who see them the first time.”
“It is just amazing. How do you do it?”
“I don’t know. It just comes to me. I paint what I feel inside.” Her cell phone rang, and she excused herself to answer it.
“Have you settled in?” Ilona asked me.
“I have most of it done, but I have to go grocery shopping today. I just stopped to check out what the big crowd was about in the gallery.” I smiled at her.
Bela boasted proudly. “Her work always attracts a huge crowd. Usually all the paintings are sold the first day,”
“I can see why,” I responded.
Bela put his arm around Ilona’s waist. “We should go, love,” he said possessively with a smirk on his face. He made sure only I could see it. It boiled my insides, and I wanted to punch his lights out.
“Right, we should. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Ilona asked, turning back to me with a smile.
“Yes, I’ll be there at six,” I assured her.
As they walked out of the gallery his arm was still around her waist. He glanced back with a mocking smirk on his face.
He called her love, and she didn’t mind. What are my chances? Maybe I could be her friend? That’s not enough. I want to be her lover. I want the right to call her “love.” What does he have that I don’t? He’s handsome; I have to admit. He’s probably a good guy; I have to admit that, too. No, I’m not giving up, not a chance. I will knock him out of that saddle. But… what if she loves him? Can I be that selfish to break up her happy relationship? Oh, what would I give to be in his shoes?
I went to the store and busied myself with cooking, and after dinner, I listened to music, all the while daydreaming about her.
Ema
Ema’s experience with the very dark side of human nature, not long after her twelfth birthday just six years ago, had changed her life. She was late from school. She didn’t get off the school bus by the driveway, where Elza waited for her every day. Ilona was home from medical school for a short vacation. Elza frantically called her on her cell phone from the end of the driveway. Ilona jumped into her car and sped down to the gate. As she opened the door for Elza, ready to drive to the school to look for Ema, they saw her stumbling and crying, on the side of the road, close to the driveway. Ilona rushed over and held Ema in her arms, cooing unintelligible words to calm her. Ema’s face was bruised, she looked like a delicate bird with clipped wings. Elza cried out in horror when she saw Ema’s bruises and torn clothes. Their worst fears were realized when Ema looked up at them with an expression of hurt, betrayal and disappointment. She experienced the dark side of human nature.
Ilona helped her into the car, drove up to the house, and then walked her to the living room. Ilona helped Ema to the sofa and covered her with a quilt while Elza rushed to the kitchen to make some soothing herbal tea. Ema sipped it and started to calm down.
After some time, seemed ready to tell them what had happened, “Mom, he attacked me and hurt me!” Ema sobbed.
Ilona hugged her, “You’re safe now. Tell us who attacked you,”
“I met Victor, a senior basketball player at my school, a few weeks ago, and I was so excited about a senior paying attention to me and teaching me the tricks to becoming the best at shooting hoops. We have been playing at recess every day, but today he said that I had to do something for him too because he would only be able to teach me the best tricks if he was calm, and happy. He said that it had to be our secret, nobody could find out, and if I told anyone, my family would die.”
Ilona fumed as she listened to Ema, expecting the worst, thinking, that bastard was using the Ageless line. Wasn’t there something new these low-life parasites can come up with? Ilona noticed Elza grinding her teeth and holding her hands in tight fists. She was in a murderous rage. Unnoticed by Ema, Ilona touched Elza’s hand, silently warning her it was not yet the time for rage.
Elza took a deep breath, wiped her tears and put her arms around Ema, “Tell us everything darling. We're here for you.”
Ema continued relating her story, “He took me to a quiet, deserted locker room, and started touching my breasts and belly. I was confused, and then I got scared and tried to run away, but he forced kisses on me, hit my face, and then threatened me. After that he tore my clothes, knocked me to the cold floor, and forced my legs apart. Ilili, it was horrible,” she sobbed, calling Ilona by her pet name. “He was enjoying that I was in pain, and the more I cried and pleaded, the harder he hit me. He laughed and told me that I wasn’t the first one who was his little baby. He said, if I told anyone, he would kill my family and me.”
The horror on her face showed as she realized she had just told on him, putting her mother and Ilona in danger.
Elza cried out, “Don’t worry my sweet. He can’t hurt us. He was just threatening you to keep silent. You did the right thing by telling us everything.”
Ilona soothed Ema by cooing a lullaby, and soon, thanks to the herbs Elza put in her tea. Ema relaxed and fell asleep. Ilona went into the kitchen with Elza trailing behind her. Ilona closed the door, and her “lioness” came out of her cage. She growled, pacing the kitchen floor in a red rage, feeling the anger, hate and wish for revenge building up inside her. Elza watched her helplessly and waited for her to calm down enough to think rationally.
“He’s a monster, an incurable predator who is missing a moral barrier from his brain. He doesn’t feel compassion, love, and respect for others. I’m strong. I could paralyze him, castrate him and stitch him up, so he wouldn’t die. Even so, he would live, and even though he won’t have sexual urges, he would find another channel to live out his fantasies, maybe even kill for his thrill. Kill him? No, I’m not capable of taking a life, even a low-life such as his.”
Ilona’s rational and calculating side didn’t let it boil over into mindless destruction, and as she expected, a plan started to form in her mind. She knew that they shouldn’t be rash about it, “Elza, we have to punish this monster and keep him away from other innocent victims.”
Ilona helped her into the car, drove up to the house, and then walked her to the living room. Ilona helped Ema to the sofa and covered her with a quilt while Elza rushed to the kitchen to make some soothing herbal tea. Ema sipped it and started to calm down.
After some time, seemed ready to tell them what had happened, “Mom, he attacked me and hurt me!” Ema sobbed.
Ilona hugged her, “You’re safe now. Tell us who attacked you,”
“I met Victor, a senior basketball player at my school, a few weeks ago, and I was so excited about a senior paying attention to me and teaching me the tricks to becoming the best at shooting hoops. We have been playing at recess every day, but today he said that I had to do something for him too because he would only be able to teach me the best tricks if he was calm, and happy. He said that it had to be our secret, nobody could find out, and if I told anyone, my family would die.”
Ilona fumed as she listened to Ema, expecting the worst, thinking, that bastard was using the Ageless line. Wasn’t there something new these low-life parasites can come up with? Ilona noticed Elza grinding her teeth and holding her hands in tight fists. She was in a murderous rage. Unnoticed by Ema, Ilona touched Elza’s hand, silently warning her it was not yet the time for rage.
Elza took a deep breath, wiped her tears and put her arms around Ema, “Tell us everything darling. We're here for you.”
Ema continued relating her story, “He took me to a quiet, deserted locker room, and started touching my breasts and belly. I was confused, and then I got scared and tried to run away, but he forced kisses on me, hit my face, and then threatened me. After that he tore my clothes, knocked me to the cold floor, and forced my legs apart. Ilili, it was horrible,” she sobbed, calling Ilona by her pet name. “He was enjoying that I was in pain, and the more I cried and pleaded, the harder he hit me. He laughed and told me that I wasn’t the first one who was his little baby. He said, if I told anyone, he would kill my family and me.”
The horror on her face showed as she realized she had just told on him, putting her mother and Ilona in danger.
Elza cried out, “Don’t worry my sweet. He can’t hurt us. He was just threatening you to keep silent. You did the right thing by telling us everything.”
Ilona soothed Ema by cooing a lullaby, and soon, thanks to the herbs Elza put in her tea. Ema relaxed and fell asleep. Ilona went into the kitchen with Elza trailing behind her. Ilona closed the door, and her “lioness” came out of her cage. She growled, pacing the kitchen floor in a red rage, feeling the anger, hate and wish for revenge building up inside her. Elza watched her helplessly and waited for her to calm down enough to think rationally.
“He’s a monster, an incurable predator who is missing a moral barrier from his brain. He doesn’t feel compassion, love, and respect for others. I’m strong. I could paralyze him, castrate him and stitch him up, so he wouldn’t die. Even so, he would live, and even though he won’t have sexual urges, he would find another channel to live out his fantasies, maybe even kill for his thrill. Kill him? No, I’m not capable of taking a life, even a low-life such as his.”
Ilona’s rational and calculating side didn’t let it boil over into mindless destruction, and as she expected, a plan started to form in her mind. She knew that they shouldn’t be rash about it, “Elza, we have to punish this monster and keep him away from other innocent victims.”
Elza
Dear diary,
Today was a disaster. I was waiting up for Ilona, desperate to talk to her. There were so many things that were confusing and unexpected; it was way over my head. Ilona wasn’t opening up so I couldn’t tell her things that she needed to know. I knew I had to tell her the most important information, despite the pain I was facing and had to find out if she had accepted her ability, or if she was still struggling with it. It hurt too much to bring the subject up, but I couldn’t wait any longer. She showed all the signs of knowing who she was, and what she was capable of doing, but I expected it must have been very hard for her, and I wished I could help. She received her little ones when I gave her a pendant, which caused the ravaging fever in her body. As far as I knew, the “little ones” helped to awaken certain abilities in our bodies, but I can’t find out for sure until I turn sixty and will be allowed more access to the inside knowledge.
I remember when I came of age. First, I had the unexpected fever, and then I started having these dreams that came true, one by one. It scared me enough to tell my mother about them. She was relieved that she could tell me everything because I opened up to her. She told me I was a Seer, and I was just happy to know I wasn’t losing my mind. She explained what she knew and how to control and interpret my dreams. She guided me in the use of herbs to see into the future, and alternate futures, as well. She told me that my birthright was to be a Seer, and my destiny to become a Shaman of our tribe when I reach the age to become an Elder. My poor Ilona, she has no one to turn to or guide her.
Ema gave me a lot to think about, as well. I still didn’t know how to keep her in the protective circle. She wanted to leave, and I knew I couldn’t let her. The Elders were not to discover - ever - that she existed. When we got back from the hospital, I was surprised by her reaction. I’d talked her into going to the ER where they were supposed to meet. It was a simple plan, and to make sure it would happen, I told Rua to send the dreams. He was very reluctant at first, saying the dreams had a higher purpose and we shouldn’t use them for solving petty and personal problems. It took some pushing and convincing on my part before he agreed, and I was so anxious to see them after the dreams were sent. I had a gut feeling that something was wrong when I saw no hint of recognition on Ema’s face while there was disbelief and shock on Zoltan’s when he saw Ema. I tried to figure out what had gone wrong. Ema wasn’t interested at all, yet Ilona and Zoltan had shown the signs of inner connection as they gazed at each other - it was very puzzling. I thought it over when we got back from the hospital, and Ema retreated into her studio.
The dreams are very powerful, why didn’t they respond to them? For everything that is sweet and holy, please… NO! I felt as if a bomb had dropped on me. I rushed out of the house and found Rua the Dream Weaver in the back, pruning the apple trees. “Rua, you’re an idiot and an incompetent fool.” I watched his mortified face as I called him names.
“What, what did I do?” he stammered in humiliation. He placed his weight on his good leg and stood up tall.
“Seriously. Are you the one asking me? You were supposed to send the dream to Ema, but it appears that Ilona got it instead. Ema was supposed to fall in love with Zoltan the Traveler in her dream, and then meet him at the hospital. I suspect Ema never had the dream, but Ilona did, and she’s the one falling for him. Zoltan looked at Ema - whom he was supposed to fall in love with - as if she was his little sister. But he looked at Ilona as if he had found his life mate. That’s what happened, and that’s what you did wrong, you dumb idiot,” I shouted.
Today was a disaster. I was waiting up for Ilona, desperate to talk to her. There were so many things that were confusing and unexpected; it was way over my head. Ilona wasn’t opening up so I couldn’t tell her things that she needed to know. I knew I had to tell her the most important information, despite the pain I was facing and had to find out if she had accepted her ability, or if she was still struggling with it. It hurt too much to bring the subject up, but I couldn’t wait any longer. She showed all the signs of knowing who she was, and what she was capable of doing, but I expected it must have been very hard for her, and I wished I could help. She received her little ones when I gave her a pendant, which caused the ravaging fever in her body. As far as I knew, the “little ones” helped to awaken certain abilities in our bodies, but I can’t find out for sure until I turn sixty and will be allowed more access to the inside knowledge.
I remember when I came of age. First, I had the unexpected fever, and then I started having these dreams that came true, one by one. It scared me enough to tell my mother about them. She was relieved that she could tell me everything because I opened up to her. She told me I was a Seer, and I was just happy to know I wasn’t losing my mind. She explained what she knew and how to control and interpret my dreams. She guided me in the use of herbs to see into the future, and alternate futures, as well. She told me that my birthright was to be a Seer, and my destiny to become a Shaman of our tribe when I reach the age to become an Elder. My poor Ilona, she has no one to turn to or guide her.
Ema gave me a lot to think about, as well. I still didn’t know how to keep her in the protective circle. She wanted to leave, and I knew I couldn’t let her. The Elders were not to discover - ever - that she existed. When we got back from the hospital, I was surprised by her reaction. I’d talked her into going to the ER where they were supposed to meet. It was a simple plan, and to make sure it would happen, I told Rua to send the dreams. He was very reluctant at first, saying the dreams had a higher purpose and we shouldn’t use them for solving petty and personal problems. It took some pushing and convincing on my part before he agreed, and I was so anxious to see them after the dreams were sent. I had a gut feeling that something was wrong when I saw no hint of recognition on Ema’s face while there was disbelief and shock on Zoltan’s when he saw Ema. I tried to figure out what had gone wrong. Ema wasn’t interested at all, yet Ilona and Zoltan had shown the signs of inner connection as they gazed at each other - it was very puzzling. I thought it over when we got back from the hospital, and Ema retreated into her studio.
The dreams are very powerful, why didn’t they respond to them? For everything that is sweet and holy, please… NO! I felt as if a bomb had dropped on me. I rushed out of the house and found Rua the Dream Weaver in the back, pruning the apple trees. “Rua, you’re an idiot and an incompetent fool.” I watched his mortified face as I called him names.
“What, what did I do?” he stammered in humiliation. He placed his weight on his good leg and stood up tall.
“Seriously. Are you the one asking me? You were supposed to send the dream to Ema, but it appears that Ilona got it instead. Ema was supposed to fall in love with Zoltan the Traveler in her dream, and then meet him at the hospital. I suspect Ema never had the dream, but Ilona did, and she’s the one falling for him. Zoltan looked at Ema - whom he was supposed to fall in love with - as if she was his little sister. But he looked at Ilona as if he had found his life mate. That’s what happened, and that’s what you did wrong, you dumb idiot,” I shouted.
Mora
If Mora could spit fire, she would have burned her castle down to the foundation. “What the hell is going on? Is there anyone in this century who doesn’t interfere with my plans? Now, instead of killing her, the boy protects her.”
Her inside was boiling with anger and frustration, and it took her a while to calm herself enough to think. She gathered all her energy, cleared her mind and channeled Joland, “Can you feel and hear me, my love?” she projected her thoughts through the time fold.
It took Joland by surprise, “I didn’t expect you to call me so soon. I’m afraid you’re going to exert yourself, darling, so make it short.”
“I had to contact you because my plans were compromised by the meddling fools. Listen carefully. I don’t have too much time. Watch Mundzuk very closely, follow his every step. It was foretold that he will be the father of the child, but the prevision doesn’t mention who the mother will be. Watch him like a hawk and train your troops, because it’s going to take much more to stop them than I anticipated.”
“I have my men ready, but it’s not going to happen for another two years in my timeline.”
“I know, and I’m doing my best to stop them, but it’s not going to be easy. The final act might fall on your shoulders.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“Joland, one more thing I have to ask you, have you any knowledge of a Destiny Box?”
“I’ve overheard a legend from the Elders. The box contains secrets from the ancestors, and only the Chosen One could open it.”
“Do you know where this box is?”
“I only know that it’s passed down from generation to generation in the family of a Chameleon bloodline. I don’t know which family and I don’t think anyone knows.”
“I will try to find out. I have to go, darling, love you forever.”
“I love you, longer. Rest my love, we will meet again.”
Mora severed the connection and, being mentally exhausted, sank into deep sleep.
Her inside was boiling with anger and frustration, and it took her a while to calm herself enough to think. She gathered all her energy, cleared her mind and channeled Joland, “Can you feel and hear me, my love?” she projected her thoughts through the time fold.
It took Joland by surprise, “I didn’t expect you to call me so soon. I’m afraid you’re going to exert yourself, darling, so make it short.”
“I had to contact you because my plans were compromised by the meddling fools. Listen carefully. I don’t have too much time. Watch Mundzuk very closely, follow his every step. It was foretold that he will be the father of the child, but the prevision doesn’t mention who the mother will be. Watch him like a hawk and train your troops, because it’s going to take much more to stop them than I anticipated.”
“I have my men ready, but it’s not going to happen for another two years in my timeline.”
“I know, and I’m doing my best to stop them, but it’s not going to be easy. The final act might fall on your shoulders.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“Joland, one more thing I have to ask you, have you any knowledge of a Destiny Box?”
“I’ve overheard a legend from the Elders. The box contains secrets from the ancestors, and only the Chosen One could open it.”
“Do you know where this box is?”
“I only know that it’s passed down from generation to generation in the family of a Chameleon bloodline. I don’t know which family and I don’t think anyone knows.”
“I will try to find out. I have to go, darling, love you forever.”
“I love you, longer. Rest my love, we will meet again.”
Mora severed the connection and, being mentally exhausted, sank into deep sleep.
