Chapter 1 Summary.
Tena (Athena) a 21-year-old wizard, goes on a mission to capture a terrorist using magic. After tossing stun grenades into the terrorist' s hideout, she and her partner, Captain Juan Gonzalez, are able to capture all three terrorists. Tena engages in a brief contest of magic with one terrorist, whom she is able to subdue. Afterwards, they go back to their military base, the Presidio, in San Francisco.
2.
Three Years Earlier
Growing up the Hard Way
Lying on my bed, Becky and I were watching the tendrils of smoke from the marijuana joints drift to the ceiling. Occasionally, one of us would giggle, causing the other to giggle, resulting in several minutes of laughter. I was floating on a cloud, free from all worries in the world.
There was a knock on the door.
"Athena,” a voice said. It was my Uncle Mike.
"Holy Shit," I said, trying to sit up.
"Athena, open the door. Don't bother to hide the marijuana. I can smell it out here."
Becky, less stoned than I was, quickly stood up.
"Give me your toke." She put them in a ceramic jar I used to hide the remnants of cigarettes.
She helped me to get out of bed, and I opened the door.
Uncle Mike's eyes surveyed the smoke in the air. "Athena, Athena, what have you been doing?" He raised his arms, made a wiping motion with his hands, and said, "Smoke begone."
The marijuana haze disappeared and the air became pure.
"How did you do that?" I asked.
Without responding to my question, he looked into my eyes. "Clear mind," he said. Then he turned to Becky and repeated his command.
My drug-induced stupor was gone. I felt awful about doing something I'd promised I would never do again.
"Becky, it's best you go home now," my uncle said.
I had been staying at Becky's house while my parents were overseas. When Becky's mother, a surgeon, got called out on an emergency, we came back to my home.
"Sure." She picked up her small purse and Georgetown sweatshirt.
"Later, Tena," she said, walking out of the room. My friends called me Tena because they knew I hated my given name of Athena.
"I'll see you out, Becky," my uncle said.
After they left, I sat on my bed thinking about what he’d done.
Where did the smoke go? How did I get unstoned so fast? I wondered.
I heard the sound of the front door closing, and he returned to my room.
My voice choking with emotion, I said, "Uncle Mike, I'm so sorry."
"We'll deal with your behavior later. Please sit down because I need to talk to you." His pursed lips and furrowed brow told me it was something serious.
I sat on the bed with my hands folded between my knees, expecting the worst.
He took the chair from the computer desk and turned it towards me. When he sat down, his gaze caught mine.
"Becky, I have terrible news. Your mom and dad died in an explosion at the embassy in Jordan."
I sat there, not wanting to believe what I had just heard. It wasn't possible. My throat constricted and a crushing tightness took hold of my chest. "No, no, no." Tears streamed down my face and a sobbing from deep within me shook my body. I looked at him, hoping he would tell me it wasn't true.
"I'm so sorry, Athena."
A keening sound started, growing louder and louder until it threatened to overwhelm me. Covering my ears didn't help. Only when I took a breath, and the sound stopped, did I realize it was coming from me.
Uncle Mike sat beside me, holding me in his arms. His big hands gently stroked my back. My body was there, but my mind was elsewhere. My father, so tall and muscular. How could he be dead? My graceful, unflappable mother couldn't be dead. This wasn't happening to me. I thought about all the troubles I had caused them. During the last five years, we had constantly fought about my use of drugs and alcohol. I was surly and snarled when they tried to talk to me, constantly thinking of new ways to upset them.
He put my head on a pillow and stretched out my body on the bed. Moments later, I felt a cool, wet washcloth on my forehead. A body sobbed and sobbed, but it couldn't be mine. In my mind, I journeyed to a black cave on the outer edges of the universe. This was where I belonged. This was where I would pay for my horrible behaviors. Enwrapped in a cocoon of despair, I pulled it tightly around me to increase my pain as a penance for my sins. However, despite my best efforts, I was drawn back to a more familiar world.
Gradually, I returned to my body, experiencing grief that felt like it was tearing me apart. Opening my eyes revealed a familiar room, but it would never be the same. Darkness indicated that hours had passed since he told me that my parents were dead.
"Uncle Mike?"
"Here, dear." His hand touching my shoulder reassured me I wasn't alone. "How are you doing?"
"Awful. Nothing will ever be the same. I will never be okay."
"Your life can never be the same.. But you will be okay.” He paused, then sighed. "Athena, my life will never be the same. I lost my brother and my sister-in-law, both of whom I dearly loved. I too have to adjust."
As usual, I had only been thinking of myself. "I'm sorry, Uncle Mike."
"That's okay. It was your parent’s job to comfort you. Now, I take on that role. It's all part of the changes we need to adapt to."
I cried some more, and dried my eyes. "How long was I asleep?"
"On and off for several hours. Here's some water."
Leaning forward, I took the glass from his hand. Until I took a sip, I hadn't realized how parched my throat was. I put the glass on my nightstand and lay my head back on the pillow.
"Uncle Mike, this is so awful. I don't know if I can bear it."
"This can be a part of life. A terrible part. But you will learn to bear it.""
"Never. I behaved terribly and they were so good to me. Now I can never tell them how sorry I am for what I said and did." Tears leaked from my eyes as I started sobbing again.
"You're right, you can never tell them you're sorry. Unfortunately, that happens to many of us. It's something we learn to live with. You need to know that your parents loved you very much. You were precious to them.. Your parents knew how much you loved them despite what you said or did. They realized it was hard for you when they went away on trips. But your dad had important jobs to do for his country."
I dried my eyes and blew my nose with a box of tissues he had put beside me. "I know my dad was an important diplomat. But couldn't other people have done his job?"
"Your father was a special person with unique abilities other people didn't have.
My uncle paused, and I heard him take a deep breath. "You need rest, and I can help you sleep through the night."
I nodded and lay back against the pillow. I heard my uncle say something, then everything went dark.
When I opened my eyes, the sun was streaming into the room, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. However, there was no lightness within me as grief darkened my spirit. I was an orphan, something I had never thought about. As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, an occasional tear ebbed from my eye, but the continual sobbing had ended. I needed all my energy to shower and put on my makeup.
On my way to the dining room, the delicious aroma of bacon and eggs tantalized my nostrils.
My uncle was sitting at the dining table finishing his breakfast. He had a cup of coffee in his left hand and the Washington Post in his right hand. He smiled when I entered the room.
"Athena, how are you doing this morning?"
"Better, but filled with questions."
He smiled and nodded. "I bet you are."
"I want to know more about my parent's death. But first, you need to tell me how you did those tricks in my room yesterday afternoon."
"Magic." He raised his eyes and his smile widened.
"Cut the crap." Too much had happened to me. I didn't need any mind games.
He paused for a moment, and his face took on a serious demeanor. "I'm a wizard."
"Oh, no.”
What was going on?
"I'm sure you remember when I waved my hands and the smoke disappeared."
"Even stoned, I couldn't miss that."
"I spoke a brief enchantment, and you and Becky were no longer stoned."
As I stared at him, digesting what he had just told me, I shook my head. It made sense if someone believed Harry Potter wasn't fiction. "Really, a wizard?"
"Yes."
I closed my eyes as the obvious question came to my mind. "Was my father a wizard?"
"Your father was a special wizard. He had powers that enabled him to perform tasks that were impossible, even for other wizards. I'm sorry to be telling you so much at such a time."
"It's okay. I need to know. Was my mother a wizard?"
He chuckled. "She wasn't a wizard, nor did she have any magical powers. But she had something even more important, which she passed on to you."
"What?"
"She had Aaron's genes. She was a lineal descendent of Moses' brother, the first high priest of Israel."
"Do I have these genes?"
"Yes. You have the unique set of genetic markers."
"Huh?” I had heard about studies in Jewish genes. As my thoughts cleared, questions formed in my mind. "How do you know this?"
"Your father took a sample of your cheek tissue cells when you were a baby. The results confirmed your lineage."
"What are you telling me?"
"The genetic markers, combined with your father's mutated forty-eighth chromosome, mean that you have the potential to become an extraordinary wizard."
My mind was swirling with information I could barely process. "Mutated chromosome? Am I human?"
He laughed. "Certainly. This rare mutation enables a person to be a wizard. It's been a closely guarded secret since the beginning of genetic research."
"Uncle Mike, why do I have to know this now? Isn't it enough to deal with my parents’ death."
"Unfortunately not. Your parents’ bodies will arrive at the funeral parlor tomorrow. As you know, Jewish custom dictates the funeral be held within three days. According to their wishes, they will be buried in a Jewish cemetery near Arlington. I made arrangements with the funeral home. Tomorrow will be a long hard day for us."
I gasped. "Uncle Mike, tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday. How can I bury my parents on my birthday?” I sobbed, my shoulders shook. I muttered, "It's so unfair. It's so unfair."
My uncle's strong arms wrapped around me, and I leaned against his chest.
"Life isn't fair. But there are times when we have to do things regardless of how we feel about them."
I nodded. Sitting at the table, I glanced at the newspaper..
"You said my parents died in an explosion at the embassy, but the Washington Post says several explosions leveled the embassy. Aren’t our embassies in the Middle East are surrounded by barriers and Marine guards? How could terrorists possibly get past them?"
My uncle rubbed his chin, as if thinking about what to tell me next. "They got past them with the aid of magic." He closed his eyes and sighed. "The war with terrorism has entered a new, and much more dangerous phase. The terrorists are using magic with the aid of renegade wizards."
"Renegade wizards? What are they renegades from?"
"There are codes of conduct for wizards that are enforced by a worldwide governing council . At least two, and probably more, Shi'ite wizards have gone rogue and consider themselves no longer bound by the rules of conduct."
Wizards? Councils of wizards? Renegade wizards? My mind, burdened by the death of my parents, was overloaded with information. I put my arms on the table and rested my head on them.
Burying your parents is not a good way to celebrate your birthday. It is an experience that can crush you, or in my case, force me to set aside my childhood.
I was in a daze during the ceremony at the synagogue and the funeral home. Guilt and grief assailed me like two red-hot rods piercing my temples.
Arriving at the cemetery was a living nightmare. I choked back tears and fought hard not to break down. After the rabbi said the final prayer, my uncle handed me a shovel. As I put dirt on their graves, I thought about their goodness, and how much I missed them.
During the ride back to the funeral home, my thoughts turned to the people who had killed them. Terrorists, with their irrational beliefs, had taken away my parents. There were hundreds of other people in America and Jordan, mourning because of the atrocities committed by these people.
After the funeral, a seemingly endless stream of family and friends of my parents offered me their condolences. Their eyes sought mine, but my mind didn't register their faces. Occasionally, I would excuse myself and go to the bathroom, where I stayed on until my uncle knocked at the door.
My endless, horrid day was a black cloud obliterating light from my life.. I had dozed off, when, my uncle tapped me on the shoulder.
"Athena, are you okay?"
"I might survive if I can make it to tomorrow. Thanks so much for being here. I couldn't imagine going through this without you."
"You're welcome.” He sat down next to me on a special Jewish mourning stool.
"There's more we need to talk about, but it can wait until tomorrow."
"More? You mean the will?"
"No. Something else."
When I turned, I saw his concern for me. I also saw the pain in his eyes. He had lost his brother and his sister-in-law.
"What is it?"
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes. I'm numb. What else could you say to shock me?"
"It's not about shocking you.” He sighed. "There's an important decision you must make within the next week. When persons with the potential to become a wizard reach their eighteenth birthday, they must decide whether they will receive the training necessary for them to reach their full potential, or to live fairly ordinary lives."
"Gee, do I join Harry Potter at Hogwarts? I've always wanted to meet Dumbledore. The twin redheads are kind of cute."
"Stop it. I'm serious." My uncle's eyes narrowed and his lips compressed. I had once again used my unique talent for getting adults angry.
"I'm sorry." I knew he was serious. That's what scared me. As I sat there, I thought about how I had lived my life. Despite what my uncle said, I knew I had disappointed my parents, and I had certainly disappointed myself.
"If I decide to become a wizard, what does that mean?"
"First, you will be screened by a council of wizards. If you pass the screening, you will go to a special school in Switzerland. They will teach you to master the art of wizardry, but more importantly, they will teach you how to control your thoughts and emotions. Without this control, it is dangerous to become a wizard."
"For how long?"
"Typically, a year. But it's the longest year any wizard ever experiences "
"Hhmm.” A week ago, I would have laughed at the idea of going to wizard school. "Oh, my God."
"What's the matter?"
"My father was a wizard at an embassy that was attacked with the aid of magic. He wasn't there by accident. He was in the middle of the fight. Wasn't he?"
"That's right.” He nodded his head.
"Arrange for my screening."
"You don't have to decide tonight. Remember, I said you had a week."
"I know exactly what I need to do." I would go to Switzerland, complete my training, and when the time came, I would take part in the fight. I would have my revenge. Not just for my parents, or myself, but for all those who mourned.
![View mikeypugs0134's Portfolio. [Offline / Private]](http://imgs.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/costumicons/ps-icon-regular-10.gif "View mikeypugs0134's Portfolio. [Offline / Private]"){kind=icon}
Content Rating Notice: Recommended for Readers 18 Years and Older Only
![Email User: neilbco [Offline / Private]](http://imgs.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/mail-off.gif "Email User: neilbco [Offline / Private]"){kind=small}
