Black by Ted Dekker Page B

through his hair. The suggestion sounded absurd to him, yet his own demands that she believe him were as absurd to her. More so. Actually, he had no reason to believe that he couldn’t get the information. Maybe Michal would understand and tell him right away. As long as Kara woke him up in time . . .
    It just might work.
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œOkay?”
    â€œOkay. How do I fall asleep?”
    She looked at him as if she hadn’t really expected him to agree. “You sure you don’t know any of the horses?”
    â€œPositive. And even if I did, I wouldn’t know who is going to win, would I?”
    â€œNo.” Kara gave him one last suspicious glance and headed for her bedroom, taking the paper with her. She returned thirty seconds later shaking a bottle of pills.
    â€œYou’re going to drug me?” he asked. “How will you wake me up if I’m conked out? I can’t walk around drugged all day.”
    â€œI’ve got some pills that will wake you up in a hurry too. It’s admittedly a bit extreme, but I think our situation is a bit extreme, don’t you?”
    She was a nurse, he reminded himself. He could trust her.
    Ten minutes later he lay on the couch, having ingested three large white tablets. They were talking about where they would go. They had to get out of town. To his surprise, Kara was warming to the idea. At least until they figured this all out.
    What . . . what about . . . what . . . the Raison Strain, he was asking her.
    She still wasn’t sold on the Raison Strain. That’s why she’d fed him the pills. Big, monstrous, white pills that were big enough to be . . .

    â€œCan you tell me which village he comes from?” Michal asked.
    â€œNot as near as you might imagine. Not as far as you might think.”
    This meant: No, I choose not to tell you at this time.
    â€œRachelle has chosen him. I should just lead him into the village?”
    â€œWhy not?”
    This meant: Don’t interfere with the ways of humans.
    Michal shifted on his spindly feet. He dipped his head in reverence. “He concerns me,” he said. “I fear the worst.”
    His master’s voice answered softly, unconcerned. “Don’t waste your time on fear. It’s unbecoming.”
    Two valleys to the east, the man who called himself Thomas Hunter was slumped against a tree, lost in sleep. Dreaming of the histories in vivid detail. Surely this couldn’t be good.
    Michal had left the man and flown to a nearby tree to consider his options. He had to think the situation through carefully. Nothing of the kind had ever happened, at least not in his section of the forest. He couldn’t just usher Thomas into the village and present him to Rachelle with this complete memory loss of his. He didn’t even seem to know Elyon, for heaven’s sake!
    When Hunter fell asleep, Michal decided he must seek higher guidance.
    â€œHe thinks that this might be a dream,” Michal said, looking up. “He thinks that he lives in the histories in a place called Denver, and that he’s dreaming of the colored forest, of all things! He’s got it backward! I tried to tell him, but I’m not sure he believes me entirely.”
    â€œI’m sure he’ll eventually figure it out. He’s quite smart.”
    â€œBut at this very moment he’s lying against a tree above the village, dreaming that he lives before the Great Deception!” Michal swept his wings behind his back and paced. “He seems to know the histories in stunning detail—a family, a home, even memories. He’s bound to engage Tanis!”
    â€œThen let him engage Tanis.”
    â€œBut Tanis . . .” Could he say it? Should he say it? “Tanis is teetering!” he blurted out. “I fear a small nudge might push him over the edge. If he and Hunter start talking, there’s no telling how creative Tanis might get.”
    â€œHe was created to