Unknown 9 by Layton Green (each kindness read aloud txt) 📕

She beat her hands against the tangible darkness for a long time, almost forgetting her terror that she had not woken up and might be trapped. When she did dwell on that, she backed away from the edge of the void, shaking. She had never felt so alone or wanted her mother so very much to be at her side, speaking softly to her as she used to do after a bad dream. There, there, Andie. It’s okay, Little Mouse. It’s all going to be okay—

And then Andie found herself back in the clearing with Rajani, surrounded by the vibrant hues of the jungle, overwhelmed by the visceral rush of sound and color and smells of the real world, the sheer unbelievable vibrancy of it all.

Rajani was blinking apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

Andie was so confused by what had happened, so disoriented by the abrupt return, that it took her a few moments to collect herself. “Sorry for what?” she whispered.

“That I couldn’t hypnotize you. It’s extremely rare when that happens . . . We can try again tomorrow. On a positive note, this bodes well for your belief that you were never hypnotized in the first place.”

“Rajani?” Andie said.

“Yes?”

“How long have you been trying to hypnotize me?”

The older woman spread her hands. They were both still sitting cross-legged. “No more than a minute. I know very quickly if my attempt will be successful.”

“A minute,” Andie repeated. It felt as if she had been away for an hour.

“Why do you ask?”

“Have you heard of the Fold?”

Rajani’s face scrunched in confusion. “The what?”

Goddammit, is she lying or not?

“Don’t hold anything back,” Andie said in a harsh voice.

“About what, child?”

“Where did you get that bracelet? The ouroboros?”

“It was a gift from James, many years ago. If you tell me what you’re talking about, maybe I can help you.”

After asking a few more questions that Rajani couldn’t answer, or chose not to, Andie snarled, jumped to her feet, and, ignoring the other woman’s pleas to wait, fled down the path.

Granada, Spain   15   

Set high on a plateau cradled by the Sierra Nevada Mountains, the Alhambra was a vision of medieval grandeur that Zawadi absorbed from the open window of her pension in the Albaicin, the Moorish quarter of Granada. In the cobblestone street below, perfumed by the heady scent of star jasmine, flamenco guitarists serenaded passerby as seductively as any siren, luring tourists to a nightly show.

Though the Alhambra had been built as a palace, Dr. Corwin had often referred to the magnificent citadel looming above the city as his church, due to the stunning craftsmanship and the symbolism embodied in the architecture. Zawadi knew Dr. Corwin practiced no traditional faith but also knew that, in his own way, he was a deeply spiritual man. One who worshipped libraries and museums and the marvels of nature.

Zawadi herself harbored deep-rooted beliefs in God and the spiritual realm that stemmed from both sides of her cultural heritage. Her mother was Catholic; her father, Muslim. Instead of choosing between her parents’ religions, she had accepted their faith in both, and decided early on that no one had a monopoly on belief. Since Zawadi did not exactly know what she believed in, she supposed she believed in the possibility of everything.

She had always felt a connection to this region of dusty hills and citrus groves. Yet she had not come to the city for the clean air and sweeping mountain views. Long ago, James had recruited a spy within the Ascendants. Zawadi did not know the identity of the mole, but in case of an emergency, Dr. Corwin had given her a secure point of contact involving an IP address on the dark web.

After Zawadi relayed what she had seen at Dr. Corwin’s funeral, the mole professed not to know if the professor was still alive or a prisoner, but promised to dig deeper. The spy had also delivered a crucial piece of information: the Ascendants had solved the fourth step of the Star Phone puzzle by taking the device to Granada and then Timbuktu, the ancient center of learning in the desert kingdom of Mali. Zawadi suspected the clues had involved the Arab alchemists, a subject of great historical interest to Dr. Corwin. He revered how the alchemists bridged philosophy and spiritual contemplation with rigorous scientific experimentation, and considered them his intellectual forebears.

As above, so below, Dr. Corwin had loved to quote. How right the old alchemists will prove to be one day.

The mole had not relayed any details concerning the solution but had passed on valuable knowledge about the fifth puzzle. The Ascendants had made little progress, and Zawadi had sent the information to Andie.

Zawadi had also decided to risk a meeting with a prominent High Middle Ages scholar from the local university—Professor Enrique Cardona—with whom Dr. Corwin had rendezvoused a month before his disappearance. The meeting had taken place at the Alhambra, and Zawadi knew of it because she had provided security. She also knew Professor Cardona was a member of the Society and a close friend of Dr. Corwin’s.

Thinking the professor might know something useful about Dr. Corwin’s actions before his disappearance—perhaps even where he had hidden the Enneagon, or clues to the four remaining parts of the Star Phone puzzle—Zawadi had arranged to meet him in the same place. She did not know him well enough to trust the security of his communications, and also wanted to see through Dr. Corwin’s eyes as she heard what the two had discussed.

Although the Ascendants should have left the city by now, Zawadi had taken precautions, including scoping the Alhambra with a telescope in the hours before the meeting. Dr. Corwin preferred to conduct his clandestine business in broad daylight, to blend with the crowds and take advantage of the increased public scrutiny.

Zawadi, on the other hand, preferred to control her environment. She could not account for every single one of the thousands of faces that would pass through the