I followed Ezra through Dalaman airport, weaving my way past towering glass walls and stone pillars. Every airport looks alike. Some are ragged and worn, but all attempt to both help and baffle tired and anxious passengers with a labyrinth of passageways, gates, and bridges. Shops, restaurants, and cafés peddle their wares, clamoring to each passerby in desperation. The same signs and symbols swing overhead, pointing the way to a needed destination, whether it was a restroom, baggage claim, or taxi stand.

   Each airport's personality speaks through its art. Some art is clever while the rest is droll. My personal favorite was the tower of luggage, balancing precariously one on top of another to the ceiling at Sacramento International Airport— both witty and charming. The personality of Dalaman Airport wasn't either of those things, but sleek and modern, a monument to steel and glass.

   Ezra led me toward Passport Control as we passed a luggage shop. I never understood why airports sold luggage. I know it coincided with the general theme of travel, but wouldn't everyone who arrived at an airport already have luggage? I envisioned travelers with plastic garbage bags and the eventual messy baggage claim. Ezra glanced over his shoulder at me as I chuckled to myself.

   When I arrived at passport control, I told myself to relax and not hold my breath. For the first time in my life, I felt like a criminal. Ezra insisted I travel with the Canadian passport. His protective streak had peaked in the past few days and turned into an overprotective streak. Since the attack, he had been on full alert. The rational part of me understood the need to travel incognito. The rest of me was just annoyed. I handed my passport to the clerk and waited, trying to look bored.

   A young, thin man eyed me for an uncomfortably long time from behind the glass before opening the cover. "What is your purpose in Turkey? Business or holiday?"

    "Both, I guess," I answered. "My husband is Turkish. He has business here." The man eyed me as I nodded toward Ezra, waiting by himself.

   The man smiled, "Ah... you are very lucky. Turkish men make great... husbands." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively in a way that made me want to step away from him. He made several more vaguely lewd comments.

   Subtlety was wasted on him. I smiled and nodded back politely as he ran my passport through the scanner and waited. Then he pressed the stamp down over the self-adhesive visa on the page. He handed the passport back to me and leered.

   Ezra shifted his weight several times as I walked toward him. He glanced behind me at the clerk and scowled. His hearing was extraordinary. He hadn't been any happier with the clerk's behavior than I had been.  

   Halfway to the baggage claim, I stopped suddenly. Along the wall on my left was a mural, radiating in dark and light browns. In the foreground was a brightly colored hot-air balloon suspended in front of a spectacular vista of wind-carved stone. The hills in the distance folded on top of each other, melted in gentle waves. Closer were dozens of smoothly rounded stone pillars, worn away one grain of sand at a time by wind and rain.

   I had seen this before. I remembered fierce howling, the wind screaming at me. Ezra stepped closer to me and looked at the mural.

    "I know this place."

    "That's Cappadocia. North East of here, in the middle of the country."  

    "I was there," I said. "When I was dying... or dead. There was wind everywhere... and a man with a boy."

Ezra looked thoughtfully at the picture. "That's why you were speaking Hattic."

   "I was speaking what?"

   "Hattic. I think it was Hattic or a proto-Hattic. It was spoken here more than five thousand years ago, before the Hittites. This land was sacred. The most beautiful and most terrifying places always are." He pointed to the giant pillars. "They are called Fairy Chimneys. We called them Mother's Smoke... long before anyone spoke Hattic." His voice always became soft and fluid when he was lost in his past. "We believed the Mother created the earth in a fire, and when the fires cooled, the earth turned to stone. The pillars were smoke from the fires. It's filled with tourists now."

   It was beautiful and haunting, in a way. I imagined smoke swelling and rising into the air, slowly petrifying, frozen for all time. "You were the man," I said, realizing that had been my first vision. "The man with the boy. He was telling you a story about the sun." Ezra nodded, "I think so."   

    "Who was the boy?"

   He shrugged, "I don't know. I don't remember."

   Five thousand years ago, maybe more. If Ezra was as old as we thought, he would have already been thousands of years old at that time. Being with Ezra had changed more than just my life— it had changed time. The Roman Empire, Greece, and Egypt... they had all seemed like the center of the ancient world. Now they hardly seemed old at all but more recent memory. Ezra could remember the first time he saw metal, the first time he saw someone ride a horse, the first time he saw more than a couple hundred people in one place.

    "Do you remember your family?" I asked, curious. Ezra had never spoken of his life before he was Avati. What was his mortal life like?

   "I remember a woman with long black hair. I don't know if she was my wife, my mother, or just someone I knew. I remember a young girl who would run barefoot through my home. I called her Arinu. I think she was my daughter, and I believe I also had sons... I can't remember their names. Everything from my mortal life is hazy. I remember remembering my family. I don't know when it started to slip away. First I couldn't remember their faces, then their names. Now I can't remember much at all. I remember hunting, making tools, and music."

    "Music?"

    "Yes," he nodded. "There was always music... drums, flutes, and singing. Life was more balanced then. Everyone worked together. It was simple, and I was happy. Most of the time I think the world would have been better off if cities had never been developed, if we had never learned to farm, never tamed animals. It's been a long slow spiral into the darkest parts of our nature." He moved toward me like he was going to take my hand and stopped. "We should go."

   There must be a strange undercurrent of constant loss not to remember your own parents, or remember if you were married, or worse... your own children.

   Ezra turned the car down a road bisecting a narrow peninsula. It was night by the time we reached Kaş, and the streets were dark and steeply curved. Reflections from pale lights, yellow orbs, gleamed across a sheet of black billowing water. I could see thick dark vegetation and low crawling bushes clinging to the hills from the water's edge to the narrow winding road. It wasn't the dense towering forest I had grown used to in Portland, but the land here was lush with life.

   We pulled off the main road onto a smaller one barely wide enough for a single car to pass. The way ended at a precipice that angled and tumbled down to the water. I turned toward a shadowy stone structure. It was clearly built to mimic a small castle with thick stone walls, a round turret, and what looked like a watchtower. The design was a balance between square and round rooms, thrusting out from the sides. I stifled a snicker. The castle was large and showy and appeared to be less than fifty years old. The scent of olive trees, bougainvillea, and sea salt mingled happily in the air.

    "This is Wu's house?" The ostentatious façade didn't seem to fit with Wu or Ása's undemanding personalities.

   "Goodness no. I don't think they've ever been here. His company entertains clients here."

    "What exactly does his company do?"

   Ezra smiled mischievously. "You'll have to ask him."     

   I thought of The Fountainhead. Howard Roark would be appalled. The walls inside the house were made of the same stone as the outside with high ceilings and wooden beams, completing the castle atmosphere. The front foyer emptied into a large round room with a wall of arched windows gazing out to the sea. Red and blue Turkish carpets covered the stone floor, and a large, robust wooden chandelier hung above. The round wall was fitted with a crescent-shaped plush white sofa with three round wooden tables spread evenly atop the cushions. It looked large enough to fit a dozen people comfortably. Above the arched windows, the stones curved into a dome. A large fireplace, wide and tall enough to stand in, covered the opposite wall. I eyed a large bookcase with interest. Lush and exotic, this room was clearly designed to be the centerpiece of the home.

    "Okay, not bad," I said, looking toward the view. Ezra laughed at me and waggled his head from side to side, a gesture I'd seen him made several times when he was mocking me. On the second floor, a pair of double doors opened into our bedroom. Its walls were plaster, white and clean. A dazzling Turkish carpet covered a warm hardwood floor. Again the windows were arched with metal shutters and graced three of the room's walls. The bed dominated the space, with a canopy and white billowing netting that fluttered to the floor, pulled to the sides, and tied to the bedposts. I felt like I had been transported back in time. Everything about this house was designed to impress and humble. It flirted with the exotic, somewhere between romantic sentimentality and modern luxury.

   I set my carry-on bag next to a chair and walked toward the windows, my fingers trailing along with fluttering fabric as I passed. Two dark shadowy islands broke the horizon in the distance. I knew the water in the morning would sparkle blue and inviting.

   I turned back toward Ezra to find him watching me. He was enjoying how new this all was to me. "The first time I ever saw the sea was not far from here. I'd heard people talk about the end of the world being swallowed by water that never ends."

    "Did you believe them before you saw it for yourself?"

    "Yes. I'd always heard it was true and never had reason to doubt it."

   I slipped off my shoes and sat down at the edge of the bed. "Now that you have me here, the question you have to ask yourself is if you ever plan on touching me again." I leaned back on my elbows and looked up at him. Ezra hadn't touched me once, not even in passing since the night Esther attacked me.

   Ezra walked toward me. He leaned over me and set each hand on the bed a few inches from my sides. I didn't move as he hovered above me. I kept my face tilted up watching him.

    "I'm not avoiding touching you."

    "Yes, you are."

   A second passed. Then two. "Yes, I am," he finally admitted. "I've been trying to not cause you any... distress."

    "I can't control my visions, but would you have me hide from them? I'm going to see a tremendous amount of ugly things, and they are not all going to be from you."

   He watched me for a heartbeat, then bent down and kissed me tentatively. Warmth spread from his skin and skipped across mine. It seemed to have a kind of energy of its own. He breathed deeply and kissed me again. Once reminded, his body became more urgent and forceful. He pulled me up further onto the bed then gripped the back of my neck, keeping my head locked with his. Blood pulsed beneath his lips as electricity crackled around us. I'd only felt a binding once in the past few days. I shivered as electric tendrils prickled and bit softly at my skin. His lips ran lightly down my stomach to my belly button. My fingers deftly unhooked his belt and tugged open the front of his pants.

   All hesitation was lost. Ezra's domain was in the bedroom, and he knew it well. His teeth nipped at the flesh on my shoulders as he yanked at the button on my jeans. He pulled them off, tossing them to the floor and slid his shirt over his head in nearly the same motion.

   His fingers dug into my waist as he slid his right arm under me. His arm clasped around me tightly, lifting me from the bed, raising me up to meet him, and he entered me swiftly.

Waves crashed and thundered below me. Seagulls squawked and cried as they circled above. There were tall pine trees nearby, their branches swaying and brushing against each other as the sharp salt air pushed against them.

   Ezra was standing alone at the edge of a cliff. Strong waves splashed against the ancient rocks below. Ezra was naked. Strong, sinewy muscles spread up his legs and rippled across his back. His toes touched the edge of the cliff as he gazed far below him just as a stiff breeze swelled up and whipped his hair around his head. He lifted his hands out to his sides and then raised them above his head. The muscles in his legs tensed and sprung as he flung his body through the air. He soared and then dropped, plunging into the waves that swallowed him whole.  

   The windows were open, and I could hear the sounds of the sea, the gentle lap of waves against the rocky shore, and birds calling to each other. I listened to the gentle push and pull of the water and immediately felt soothed. The sound of water always causes an immediate physical reaction in me... all of us. Water dripping, water babbling, water running, water rolling in waves, it pulls at our subconscious. Populations sigh and feel reassured at the sight of fountains in town squares and market places. The drier the climate, the more fountains we build, they ward off the evils of the desert surrounding the cities for miles in every direction. Water is the source of life.... mortal life, and we are never happier than when we are close to it.

   My pulse quickened as I realized where I was and why I was there. I wanted to stretch against the cold stone floor. I wanted to know what Mediterranean seawater tasted like. And I wished there was a cat nearby so I could listen to a soft purr. I sighed and shook my head. My adrenaline was a tricky thing to get used to, like a strange manic child.

   Morning light streamed into the room and bounced off the white walls. The white netting fluttered around me as it draped the bed like a cocoon. I listened for the sounds of the morning... people moving about outside, opening doors, and leaving for work, but heard nothing but Ezra's breathing.

   I stayed like that for some time before he stirred and stretched. The sheets pulled with him as he moved. He rolled toward me and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. Ezra was a snuggler.

    "I'm not going to ask you if you had a vision last night," he said after he settled me comfortably next to him.

    "Okay."

   He cocked an eyebrow at me and then set his head back onto the pillow. I looked at him from the corner of my eye and grinned. "Have I ever told you that you look really good naked?"  

   "No, I don't believe you have."

    "Ah, that was very negligent of me."

    Ezra shook his head and clucked his tongue in mock reproof. I rolled to my side to face him.

   A faint melodic sound, vibrant and full of longing drifted in through the window. I turned to music and listened.

   "It's the azan, the Islamic call to prayer. It's been years since I heard it. I'd almost forgotten..." his voice trailed off.

   "It's extraordinary." We huddled in bed with our heads together and listened quietly. When it was over, Ezra turned to me and kissed me long and leisurely.  

   "So, what's the agenda for today?"

   "We need to go into town for supplies. The house doesn't have much food since most of the people who stay here go out to eat." He sat up and moved to get off the bed. "Which reminds me..."

   He reached into his carry-on bag and pulled something out. He slipped back under the sheet and set something on my stomach. It was a small white box. I picked it up and pull off the lid. Inside was a silver wedding band. It looked vintage. Lines were etched and cut into the metal in a cascade of angular diamond shapes. Nestled inside each etched diamond was an actual diamond that circled around the entire band. I'd never seen anything like it. It was simply beautiful.   

    "When did you get this?"

    "A few weeks ago."

   "Well, you're the one for surprises."

   He picked it up and slipped it on my finger. "This is Turkey, and you are a married woman. This is the place to be obvious about it."

    "It's strange being married just by saying so."

    "For millennia, that's exactly what marriage was. You were married just by declaring it and moving in together." I twisted the ring around my finger, watching the diamonds wink at me. "It's still basically the same. There's a bit more pomp and circumstance about it, but really it is still just two people declaring themselves to be married."

   He leaned in and kissed me again. "Do you want a wedding? We can have a dozen if you want." His tone was serious.

   "No, it wouldn't change anything or make me feel any different." I meant every word. No amount of ceremony or ritual could make me any closer to Ezra or any more his wife.

   He leaned over and kissed me enthusiastically. "I've been waiting to give that to you for weeks."

   He kissed me again, pressing me back into the pillow. My fingers trailed up his spine and twined into his hair. His hand slipped slowly down to my thigh and hoisted my leg up over his hip.

Finally, time to figure out what Esther was up to.

TEASER:  Ezra stepped away from the map. "We need to take this with us."