Fragments - Book One of the Missing

Chapter 23 - Taniel

Just before Taniel knocked on the oversized oak door he turned to look at Rowan. The anxiety was written all over her face, sweat beaded on her forehead and her hands trembled slightly, despite being curled tightly at her side. He had to look away before her nerves exacerbated his own.

Hand in the air, Taniel jumped at the voice calling from the inside. "Taniel, Rowan, please do come in. It would be best not to stand there all night. You might catch a chill."

Was it still possible to turn back? However tempting, Taniel knew it would be unwise when they stood to learn so much from this man, and to lose so little. He stepped in front of Rowan and pulled her across the threshold. Without his help she would be rooted to the spot forever.

The room was littered with candles. Candles of all shapes and sizes lined every shelf, every flat surface. There were hundreds, possibly thousands. The flickering lights provided more dimension to the small cabin, as if expanded far beyond its cozy front room. The intimacy of the cabin instantly started to thaw the cold in his bones and soothe his nerves.

His eyes found the old man at the couch, bent over an old and stained coffee table. His hands were immersed in a long but shallow basin of water.

The more Taniel stared at the old man, the more it felt like he had known him forever. The tuft of white hair no longer felt so shocking, but familiar. The leather tanned skin was friendly rather than intimidating.

Taniel nodded to Rowan, assuring her that this man was indeed the same from the bus. And hopefully the same man from Scooter's encounters. They should be okay. Should being the operative word, but he didn't want her to be any more nervous. He could see that her hands had yet to stop from shaking, even though she was trying to hide it from him.

"Sit, sit," the man said, nodding his head at the chairs opposite Taniel. Rather than take her own chair, Rowan sat on the arm of Taniel's leather chair, so close their arms were almost touching. A small shift of weight would be all it took to close the distance.

They patiently waiting for the old man to say something, but he took his time. Instead of focusing on the growing silence, Taniel watched him move his hands around the bowl, the water lapping at his wrists. There was no reasoning to the movement, but it was like his hands were dancing in the water. The slow movements were mesmerizing.

After what felt like ages, the man finally pulled his wrinkled hands out of the water. "Well, it certainly is about time you came to find me, Taniel," he said. "It has been almost two months."

"Who are you?" Taniel asked.

"I suppose it would only make sense to introduce myself. My name is Hamza; a family name from many generations ago." He paused, silently considering Taniel. "Your dreams have been getting worse, haven't they?"

Taniel cringed. The dreams were getting worse, but he hadn't wanted to worry Scooter and Rowan, or even Edie with his nonsense. There was too much else going on.

"I have a handle on them. Drawing and painting seem to help."

"Something Edie taught you, no doubt."

He could only stare at the man. He knew more than he should. "Actually, no. The drawing was something I picked up from my Dad." He swallowed down the memories. "How did you know about Edie?"

Hamza's one blue eye softened, but the black eye looked dark as ever. Taniel shivered. Rowan gasped, noticing his eyes for the first time.

"Oh, I know quite a bit. But what I know about you both is for later. Right now, we should probably start from the beginning."