Tree of Life

Bedtime Stories

Unfamiliar and distant lyrics roused James from his stupor. It seemed the song had progressed for several minutes. When it ended, all he could remember were the words, “You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.”

He focused on the words until they sparked his conscious mind. “Ebru?”

James rose onto an elbow. His head throbbed and his hair had matted with blood. The wound was no longer bleeding freely, so it could wait. “Ebru.” He crawled forward on hands and knees as his mind scrambled to piece together his memory before the blackout.

Westerly had been acting strange and then Ebru had spoken something in Armenian.

“James?” Ebru breathed his name.

James located her head and lifted it into his lap. “Can you move?”

“I’m fine.” She sat up. “Westerly?”

“I don’t know.” James sniffed the air. The foul scent had faded. “What happened?”

“I think my past has followed me.”

James waited for her to explain.

“I only remember flashes of my parents. Mostly, I remember my father’s bedtime stories.”

“About the tree.”

“Yes, always the tree. I thought he had made it up to distract us from the slaughter of our people.”

“And the words you spoke?”

“My father made us repeat them every night before we slept—prayers of protection. I speak them whenever I fear.”

A memory sparked in James’ thoughts. “Westerly said something about already having the tree.” James squeezed his throbbing head. “He said he already had a host and the tree. All he needed was you.”

Ebru shuddered.

“I think you need to tell me the rest of the story.”