Jenny Plague-Bringer(84)

“Stand over here, next to each other, and look at me,” Jenny said. She thought back to the few previous lives in which her memories had been fully awoken.

“You’re glowing, Jenny,” Seth said. “You’re glowing blue.”

“That’s just the moonlight. Concentrate,” Jenny said. “Close your eyes, both of you. Imagine...imagine there’s a door right behind you.”

“What kind of door?” Seth asked.

“You tell me,” Jenny said. “What do you see?”

“My door’s made of colored glass and crystal, and sunlight is glowing through it. It’s so beautiful,” Mariella sighed.

“Good. What about you, Seth?”

“My door’s awesome. Like a big castle door, with big spikes and torches all over it.”

“Okay...This door leads to all your past-life memories,” Jenny said. “Imagine it slowly opens, and through it, you see a long hallway of doors. Each door on that hall opens to one of your past lives. Now, open your eyes, turn around, and step through into the hall.”

“Ooh!” Mariella gasped as she turned and opened her eyes.

“I can see it,” Seth said, looking at the long rows of standing stones that stretched out of sight. “I can see the doors! Are there supposed to be ducks?”

“Open the first door you see,” Jenny told them.

Seth and Mariella each took a step forward and touched one of the tall stones, which now represented doors to them.

“Oh, I see it!” Mariella told them. “I see both of you...and General Kranzler...and...” Mariella’s chest hitched and she gave a loud sob. “Oh, Jenny...”

“Barrett,” Seth said. “He betrayed us. I told you I had the worst great-grandfather in history.”

“Now imagine all the doors opening, all the way back to the beginning,” Jenny said. “Don’t hold anything back. Don’t hide anything from yourself.”

They kept walking, touching one stone after another as if looking into each door, sometimes running away in horror, or laughing at some long-forgotten moment of happiness, or crying at some tender memory. She watched as they awoke to themselves, overpowered by all that they’d forgotten.

“Good,” Jenny said, though neither seemed to be listening to her anymore. “You’re doing fine. Just take it easy, don’t rush...”

“A jester?” Seth laughed, shaking his head as he stared at the blank face of a standing stone. “I was a court jester, can you believe that?”

“Yep,” Jenny said, catching up to him.

Mariella cried out in horror as she stared at a tall stone ahead of them.

“What’s wrong?” Jenny hurried to catch up with her, then hesitantly took her by the arm. “Mariella? Tell me what you see.”

“I...see...” Mariella’s face turned ashen. “Plague, suffering, war...”

“Keep talking,” Jenny encouraged her. “Remember, it’s in the past, it’s not happening now.”

“There are men in armored masks, plates, chains, they have swords and hammers...”

“Do you know where you are, or when?” Jenny asked.

“It must be medieval Europe...” Mariella’s eyes closed. “I think those are the Alps in the distance. I serve a minor prince. He’s going to war with his brother, who has conquered a lot of territory and never been defeated in battle...I am his witch. I touch the prince I serve and see his future.” Mariella’s lips twisted in disgust. “In the future, I see his armored men in rows for the battle. His brother, the ruthless war-maker, has his own witch, and she casts a spell. My liege’s men begin to die of the plague. They rot on their feet, the tattered flesh dropping between the plates of their armor, blood running out from the slits in their face visors...This witch, I tell him, is the reason his brother has never lost. He listens to me and sends assassins to his brother’s camp the night before the battle, to kill the girl with their crossbows.”

“I remember,” Jenny said. “I was drinking a cup of wine, and the bolt hit me in the throat. I died fast.”

“The next day, your prince tried to surrender to mine, because he couldn’t win without you, Jenny,” Mariella said. “My prince defeated yours and carried his head on a pike until it rotted. His own brother.” Mariella looked sadly up and down the row of stones. “So many lives, full of so much suffering and death, so little love.”

“That’s true,” Jenny said, touching her arm. “It’s hard, but it’s better to know the truth. It’s up to us to make our lives different now. Don’t let your past trap you.”