We had been driving for nearly five hours. The road to Bodrum was full of steep winding streets and rolling countryside where the asphalt would suddenly dip sharply into a steep decline and then curve without warning. The sea shimmered to the left as we dipped and swerved. It was startlingly, beautiful, and alarming. For more than an hour, a young couple on a motorcycle had sped along the meandering road inches from our back bumper. Ezra was unconcerned, but I had sighed in relief when they finally left.

"Alright," I said, my fingers drumming on the console next to my seat. "What if someone was eaten by a dinosaur?"

Ezra laughed, his whole chest shaking. "Dinosaurs... If an Avati happened to be eaten by one, then no, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't kill him."

I stared at him in horror.

"He'd still be alive inside the dinosaur." Ezra twisted the car around a sharp curve. "I imagine it would be painful and horrifying. But, his body would keep repairing itself, so he'd to wait until it either vomited him up, shit him out, or the animal died, and its body disintegrated."

I imagined clawing myself out of a decaying animal and stopped. There are no dinosaurs, so I simply wasn't going to put much thought into it.

"Besides, an Avati would never be eaten by a dinosaur... or any other animal for that matter."

"Why not?"

"For the same reason birds never peck at us or fish never bite us when our bodies are down. Animals are dominated by their instincts, and their instincts tell them we are not food... too much electricity. They always avoid us."

"And if we lose a limb?"

"Just bandage it back in place, and it will reattach."

Gross... and useful.

"So how many Avati are there?"

Ezra shook his head. "I couldn't possibly guess." That was no help.

"If everyone who is Avati crosses over when they die, no matter the circumstances, what happens to the people who die of old age?"

"They come back too, just like anyone else."

I frowned, thinking of Shauna's grandmother. She was ninety-five years old and could barely take care of herself. Each step from her chair to the kitchen table was agonizing and slow. She would often have to sit and rest after taking half a dozen steps. She couldn't dress, or bathe herself, or use the bathroom by herself. It seemed horribly cruel to subject someone to an eternity of that life.

Ezra must have read the displeasure in my face. "But, since they continue to age, they die again quickly." A wave of relief swept over me. "They don't live much longer than a few years."

"A few years?" I couldn't decide if I thought that was too long or too short.

"To everyone else, they would simply appear to have lived an exceptionally long life." Ezra turned onto another road leading into the town. Its buildings shimmered white, sparkling in the sun like summer snow.

"Eleanor of Aquitaine lived to be about eighty-two, I think." He stopped and smiled. "But, then, not really. She died twelve years before her final death, I believe." I tried to think who that was. I was familiar with all the significant Royals in European history and a few of the minor ones. Although the name was familiar, I couldn't place it.

"She was kind. Well, as kind as a queen can be anyway. Her husband, though..." he shook his head. "Ruthless and sullen. Ruthless I can understand... a hazard of life as a king. But a sullen, pouting king... It's useless giving all that power to such a bullying sulking man, despite all his ridiculous speeches about Christian charity. Leif can tell you more, but Eleanor was wasted on him... he was an idiot."

"You don't believe in Christian charity?"

"Maybe I could if it existed... but I've found the two words don't always go hand in hand. There are mercy and charity, but they have nothing to do with religion... any religion."

"I know a lot of people who would disagree."

"People believe a lot of things. But they weren't there."

They weren't where?

"I remember the first time I heard the philosophy of charity. It was from a rabbi in Judea. I remember thinking it was weak."

I gaped at him. Charity was a philosophy? That was the first time he had ever heard of it? "How could there be a time when kindness didn't exist?"

"Kindness existed. Kindness and love have always existed. But people weren't admired based on kindness or charity. This world calls a man good based on his compassion, generosity, and, of course, charity. It's a young idea. My world made judgments based on power and strength. Who was strong and who was weak? The value and goodness of a man were based on how well he was able to protect and provide for his people, his family, and how many he could kill."

It seemed so strange to me. I couldn't wrap my head around the notion that charity was a modern philosophy. I wasn't there, he was right, but I think I prefer this world's version of a good man.

Ezra turned down a narrow road that twisted downhill. Bodrum sprawled around us, much larger than I expected with green trees lush with life between white buildings. Everything contrasted with the vibrant blue of the sea in the background. Nearly every building was curved into the surrounding hills. It was a beautiful seaside city. I could understand why Esther chose to live here.

Ezra twisted the car along winding streets through the city without once looking at a street sign. "How long has it been since you've been here?"

"1950s, I think," he answered and then pulled the car over to the side of the road, parking at the corner. He turned off the engine but didn't move. He was starring at a small house up the next block. It was white like its neighbors with thick bright pink bougainvillea blossoms dangling along the front. Ezra watched the house and then scanned the rest of the buildings along the street. He seemed satisfied with something and settled into the back of the seat... and waited.

We sat in the car for hours. At first, I watched Ezra watch the house. He never took his eyes off the building or the rest of the street. After a while, I pulled out a Chick Lit I purchased at the airport. I didn't share Ezra's fascination with Esther's front door. I decided stakeouts were, on the whole, very dull.

I read five chapters before setting the book down. Ezra reached across the seat and wrapped my hand in his, his thumb caressing a circular motion around my palm. I rested my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, allowing the vision to come.

I stood in a dark theater, with only a single light flickering against the wall. Someone was playing a tinny piano. Most of the seats were filled with men. There were a few women in fur-collared coats, with smooth dresses and gloves; everyone was wearing a hat. I walked down the aisle toward the screen, spotting Ezra a few rows in front of me.

The chairs were cushioned but ridged. They weren't connected by a joining armrest like I was used to. In the dim light, they looked like they were upholstered in dark brown brocade. I sat in the chair next to him and looked up at the screen. Charlie Chaplin's mustached face looked back at me. The Tramp picked up a candle from inside a lantern, sprinkled some salt, and began eating it. I turned to Ezra and watched him. He was smiling.

I opened my eyes to Ezra stroking my palm absentmindedly, attention still focused on Esther's house. I closed my eyes again and wondered if the vision would continue.

I smelled burning tobacco, and the piano was still playing. I looked around and realized I was still sitting in the chair next to Ezra. I sat forward and craned my neck to see the piano player in the corner by the screen. A man sitting a few rows in front of us was smoking. I looked back at the screen just as a large man started chasing a human-sized chicken out of the cabin and into the snow. As I leaned back into the chair, Ezra turned to look at me. I stared wide-eyed back at him. He looked confused for a moment as his eyes drifted over the chair. Then he turned his attention back to the film.

I pulled myself out of the vision again. What was that? I willed the vision to continue again, and it did.

The large man and Charlie were struggling over a rifle. I leaned back into the chair and watched the rest of the movie with Ezra. The man in front of us finished his cigarette and smoked another one before the movie was over. The music surged and faded as Charlie kissed a girl on the deck of a ship. The screen flickered and grew dark. Then a man walked up the aisle and lit a gas lamp on the wall. I heard chairs and clothing rustling as people stood and started chattering to each other. Ezra stood and turned toward the exit. His eyes scanned my chair once more as he passed me. Curious, I followed him out.

Ezra pulled his hand from mine, and the vision ended abruptly. That was curious. I mulled over this new occurrence.

"It's time," Ezra said and moved to open the door. Finally! My legs were beginning the cramp, and I had to pee. I was more than ready to get out of the car. He reached over and linked my hand through the crook in his elbow as we walked toward the house. I kept quiet and let him concentrate. If he was suspicious of something, I wasn't going to distract him.

We reached a small arched gate barring a walkway to Esther's door. Ezra reached into his pocket and pulled out her keys. He unlocked the gate and turned to a mailbox stuffed with envelopes. He frowned as he reached in and pulled out the mail. The large yellow envelope was too big to fit in the box and was propped in the crevice between the box and the wall.

"Someone has been collecting her mail."

I nodded as I considered it.

"Yes. It's been months. There should be much more." I took the pile of mail from him as he pushed the gate open. Esther's house was white, just like most of the other homes here. There was a small terrace above the front door on the second floor. The house wasn't new, but I didn't think it was much older than the 1940s or 1950s. The walls were all white, like the outside. Roughly chopped round logs were propped up as pillars between rooms and as beams in the ceiling. The house had a warm, homey feel about it. The living room opened up into an indoor terrace overlooking rolling green hills and a deep bluish-black sea in the distance. There was a small round glass ornament hanging above the entrance. It was about the size of a saucer and made of dark blue glass. Painted on top of it in the center was a white circle, then a light blue circle and finally black circle in the middle. Each colored circle got progressively smaller, resembling a blue bull's eye.

"It's a Nazar Boncuğu," Ezra said. "It's a protective charm to ward off the evil eye." It was beautiful. Too bad Esther hadn't had it with her in Portland. Maybe she would have left me in peace.

Wasting no time, I immediately began scouting for a bathroom. I finally found one down a small hallway. It was small but serviceable. Blue, white, and brown tiles with flourishes of Turkish designs spread across the floor and up to the walls to the ceiling. A flexible handheld shower nozzle rested on a stand across from the toilet. Like many European countries, Turks felt no need for shower curtains. Bathrooms were utilitarian and economical.

I returned to the living room, but Ezra was nowhere to be seen. I drifted over to a wide bookcase near a small rounded fireplace jutting out from the corner of the room. Most of the books were in Hebrew and Turkish. There were a few written in a Cyrillic language. Russian? There was also a handful in English and Spanish. She seemed to organize everything first by language and then by subject. Most of the English books were novels. There were a few about genetics and the Human Genome Project.

I smiled in surprise as I looked at her collection of novels. She seemed to be a fan of Orson Scott Card. I don't know why I was surprised she was a fan of science fiction and fantasy. She just didn't strike me as the type. She had all of the Ender Wiggin series as well as the Women of Genesis. I suppose I understood why she liked those. I wondered idly if she thought they were amusing or thoughtful. She was also a fan of Isabelle Allende, I mused as I picked up a well-worn copy of House of the Spirits. On the lower two bookshelves, there were dozens of long sheets of paper rolled up like scrolls. I pulled out one from the top of the stack. Shabnum was written in black ink on the bottom of the roll.

Artificial butterflies rested on the shelves in front of some of the books along with jars of sea glass. There was a coat rack on the other side of the bookcase filled with scarves. Scarves hung from the pegs in a kaleidoscope of colors and designs. On the other side of the bookcase was a light grey sofa filled with brightly colored pillows, girlish pinks, greens, and purples. I felt as if I was prying into her underwear drawer and had to shake a cold shiver off my shoulders. The deeper I delved into Esther's life, the more I came to like her. She was personable and full of surprises.

I turned and walked deeper into the house in search of Ezra. I passed a narrow desk by the hallway and found three portable hard drives next to a mug and a vase filled with some kind of branches. A silver necklace with a round pendant was hanging from one of the branches. I picked up the hard drives and found Ezra in the first bedroom I came to. Esther had been using it as an office. Ezra was standing in front of a large map spread across half the wall.

Corkboard was sandwiched between the map and the wall. Colorful pins with small tags of paper were scattered across every continent. There were hundreds of pins in a rainbow of colors. On each label was written a name followed by the letters and numbers J1 and J2. Ezra was riveted. Most of the pins were in four clusters that spread out like a web along the edges with solitary pins scattered haphazardly between them. The two most significant clusters were in Northeast Africa, south of Egypt and the Eastern Mediterranean, between Turkey and Syria. There were two smaller clusters further east. The first was in India, and the smallest group was on the coast in Southeast Asia. The rest were mostly solitary pins dotting North Africa, Europe, and Central Asia up to parts of Siberia. North and South America were mostly empty. There were two pins in Chile, one in Mexico, one in Haiti, and two in Virginia.

The cricket in the back of my mind chirped quietly.

I stepped closer to the map, and Ezra followed. Most of the pins had only one name written. A few had two or more names. I turned to Europe and began searching the names there, and found Leif right where I expected him to be in Iceland with the code J1 and a question mark after it. Ása was one of three pins in Scandinavia. I looked at North America again. My name wasn't listed anywhere. I didn't know if I wanted to feel relieved or annoyed by that. Esther didn't know about me before she left Turkey.

Ezra was staring at the cluster in Eastern Turkey. It was thick with pins, and it took me a while before I finally found his. It was far to the East of Turkey, not far from the border of Armenia. In bold letters, the pin read Ezra J1? Ezra reached up and gently brushed his fingers across them.

"Is this where she believes you were born?" Ezra shrugged. "How could she know that if you don't know yourself?"

"It's probably a rough guess. That must be what the question mark is for." Maybe. Or was it for the code? My cricket chirped again.

The codes. I knew this pattern. The pattern of the pins across the map, the codes, there was something...

"So many..." Ezra said in wonderment. "I had no idea. There must be well more than a thousand names here." He traced his finger along with the map to Greece and stopped next to a pin that read Akakios. Then he trailed over to Italy, stopping briefly in Rome before trailing down to Naples and hesitated next to the name Sibylla. He smiled and whispered, "Sibyl." His finger hovered over France and then Spain. He seemed to be retracing some mental path.

My attention returned to Greece. I touched the pin Ezra had hesitated next to. Akakios J2... "Is this Asclepius?" He stopped, startled and confused for an instant. My question had brought him back to the present. "I suppose it could be. I never met him."

"If these are all the Avati, why are most of us clustered around the Mediterranean?" Something kept nudging me in the back of my mind, but I couldn't place it. I looked back at Ezra's pin... J1.

"Oh... haplogroups."

Ezra's face remained blank.

"They are genetic markers used to trace migrations of people back to a single common ancestor." He looked at me skeptically; I plowed on. "I translated a book a couple years ago on human genetics. It was the longest and most difficult book I ever translated."

"It took me weeks of research to understand what they were talking about. Even then, I'm not sure I did the translation justice." I pointed to the letters next to each name. "These are all part of haplogroup J. They are all mitochondrial DNA groups that trace back through the female line. Y-DNA haplogroups that follow the male lines get even more specific and complicated. I never completely understood the Y haplogroups. But, of course, females can't be traced with Y-DNA."

"How many of these haplogroups are there?" Ezra asked.

"A couple dozen, I think. All the Avati are divided into haplogroups J1 and J2. That must be why most are clustered around the Mediterranean Sea while the rest of the continents are empty. People with the J genetic markers are mostly from the areas surrounding the Mediterranean."

Something sparked in Ezra's expression. He walked back to Esther's computer and tapped the keyboard. The screen lit up. "I saw something..."

A list of names faded up onto the screen. Each name had an extended code written after it. Some of the codes I recognized as Y-DNA subclades. But most were a mystery.

Ezra pulled up a map of the world on the screen. Swirls of purple ranging from very light to very dark over the continents, covering North Africa, the Middle East, Europe, and part of central and South Asia. The darkest swirls covered East Africa, the Arabian Peninsula, and parts of Turkey and Europe. There was even a small isolated light purple section over South East Asia. It mirrored the pins on the map almost exactly.

"How did they get over to Vietnam, but nowhere else?"

"Arab and Asian traders probably." I looked at him, surprised. I wasn't expecting an answer.

"This explains why there are hardly any Avati from the Americas. Someone with the genetic marker must have journeyed to the New World during the conquest. Everyone there was born in the last five centuries."

"The Spanish. There are more Avati from France, Spain, and Italy than anywhere else in Europe."

Ezra stepped away from the map. "We need to take this with us." He started scanning the map again, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. "How..."

"Here," I said, pulling my phone from my back pocket. I snapped a picture of the entire map then stepped closer, taking pictures of each section separately, making sure each pin's name was clear.

Ezra smiled and kissed me. "Brilliant. Young people always think of these things. I would have stood here and tried to memorize each pin." Ezra began pulling pins out of the map and piling them on Esther's desk. I grabbed a small box filled with stationery and gently transferred the pins to it.

Ezra rolled up the map and asked me to pull the hard drive from Esther's computer. I looked at the computer tower with consternation. I'd never pried open a computer before and wasn't confident I could do so without destroying what we needed. Ezra made a noise and handed me the map, then leaned over and ripped the side of the computer away, crumpling the metal and plastic in the process.

He gently popped the hard drive from its resting place and set it in a pink and green striped tote bag Esther had left next to the desk. I handed him the box of pins and the other hard drives from the living room. Ezra tossed them in, then took the map from me and traded it for the tote bag.

"Oh, is the bag too feminine for you?"

"It looks like bubble gum."

"If it's a threat to your masculinity, I'd be happy to carry it."

Ezra glowered at me. I picked up the mail and stuffed it into the bag with everything else. He opened a drawer and pulled out all the files. There weren't as many as I expected, and he tucked them under his arm. He tucked the rolled map under his other arm and headed for the door.

I stared at the map as I followed him. The long roll of paper under Ezra's arm reminded me of the scrolls of paper piled in the bookcase.

"Wait," I said and quickly walked back to the case. I picked up the scroll I had looked at earlier. Shabnum. The next scripture read Ruth, and another said Temle. "These all have names on them." I unrolled one seeing names and descriptions connected to lines drawn across the page. There were places and dates spread out along the paper. "It's a timeline."

There must have been a couple dozen scrolls, each with a different name. Ezra stood behind me, staring at a photograph in the corner of the bookcase. It was of Esther with the girl from the video, smiling brightly at the camera, their arms wrapped around each other. Esther's head rested on the girl's cheek.

"Hattu," Ezra said quietly.

"The girl... the concubine you met? The one who told you..."

"That I wasn't alone in the world, yes. The first Avati I ever met."

"There was a video on Esther's phone. It's of the two of them talking about running away together. I can show it to you."

He shook his head. "No. We can't take the risk of its GPS being traced."

Ezra handed me the files from the desk, and he walked back toward the bedroom. He came back with a red and yellow laundry bag, retrieved the scrolls, and placed each one gently into the bag, trying not to crush them.

Ezra swung the bag over his shoulder and tucked the map under his arm. I looked back at the photograph. As he moved past me, I picked it up and slipped it into the bag.

Dundundun

TEASER: "Esther was working for a DNA research company in Texas."