Traits Of Descent

Chapter Twelve

Tepasi - Former site of Broadwater home

She continued to gaze at the pile of metal and wood that had been charred and destroyed years ago. The place had been left as it had been then. Like it was forgotten. She could almost still smell the faint odor of burnt ozone from the fire that once blazed long ago. Perhaps in some mystical way, it was still burning. This was once her home. It was also the last resting place of half her family. The only images she could call up from her limited memory was of Voxan standing before the flames and her father helping her run through the forest to escape.

As she found out recently on Mahc Tiernan's ship, that wasn't Voxan who started the fire. It was his son. Mahc himself. The young version of the notorious hitman was standing several yards before her. He was as still as she. Perhaps he, too, was in the process of calling up his own memories. She couldn't imagine what his would include.

After a few more moments of reflection, Mahc called out to her, "You getting anything yet? Are you remembering more?"

She slowly shook her head at him, her dark blonde curls dancing in the breeze and into her face. She brushed them out of her eyes and yelled back, "I don't remember any of this. I was too young."

"What a pity. Well then, allow me to enlighten you." He started walking closer to her as he spoke. "I was standing not far from where you are standing now. I was out here waiting for father's signal from inside the house. It was quiet in there for a while. And then the screams started. There were several different ones, male and female of various ages. They were subjected to excruciating pain. There were pleas for him to stop. He wouldn't. Fingernails were torn off. Sensitive nerve endings were agitated." As he described the macabre torture, Mahc wore an unusual smirk. Almost as if he wished he had conducted the torture himself.

"Can we please skip the details?" she snapped. "You are describing the torture of my mother and brother."

He chuckled. "Yes. That would be what your memory tells you. Your memory doesn't include your father."

"What are you talking about? Father and I weren't there."

"Weren't you? Where were you?"

"At the med center. I sprained my ankle that night."

"Did you? Can you remember any bandages or a brace?"

"What are you doing? Is this how you treat your victims? By confusing them first?"

"I'm trying to tell you the truth."

"I know the truth. Elan Broadwater was my father and he raised me. And I know that you and your father killed my mother and brother in cold blood."

He neglected to answer her immediately as he walked around her among the tall weeds. He finally mentioned, "Elan Broadwater. A name as false as my own."

"I'm actually quite aware of that. Father had to hide us both physically as well as in name."

"No. He didn't. The Jedi did."

"What are you talking about? What does the Jedi have to do with this?"

"Plenty."

"All right, stop with the cryptic answers."

He paused and asked, "How well did you know your father?"

"That's none of your business."

"Oh, but it is, sister. I'm going to tell you how much it is my business." He spread out his hands and announced, "Let's recap. You don't remember any injuries to yourself that night. You knew your father's name wasn't his own but you didn't know the source of the false name. And I'm betting that you don't even know that your own name is false. In fact, it's backward."