Prologue
Prologue
Sixteen Years Ago
Jakarta, Indonesia – Late Afternoon
The air was thick with heat and the scent of fried noodles, diesel, and the smoke of nearby cooking fires. Motorbikes roared outside the protective, concrete walls.
In the yard of the orphanage, children shrieked and laughed as they darted barefoot across the cracked pavement, chasing a half-deflated soccer ball in the late afternoon sunlight.
Tension coiled in the pit of Kiki’s belly as she watched them. She had only been at the orphanage a few weeks and didn’t really know the other kids very well.
She stood near the edge of the group in the shade of a palm tree, her colorful t-shirt bright against the dusty gray wall behind her. The flowers on the front were faded, the fabric stretched at the collar, butshe liked this shirt. Looking at it brought her comfort. The flowers on it reminded her of her mother—once bright and beautiful.
Her shorts were too big, cinched with a bit of string, but Kiki didn’t care about that. Her plastic sandals made a slap-slap sound whenever she ran, a sound she associated with giggles and the rush of the wind, almost like she could be flying if not for the sound against the ground.
She turned when a woman in a black robe stepped into the courtyard and looked around before locking on her. She took in the sight of Sister Maryna’s unsmiling face with a maturity far beyond her six years. Something terrible and uncertain settled in her gut.
“Kiki,” the nun called softly, motioning.
Kiki blinked up at her. Her pulse fluttered.
“Am I in trouble?”
“No, child, but I need you to come with me.”
A cold thread of fear slid down her spine. Kids who went into the office didn’t always come back. They left in cars with strangers.
“I don’t want to,” Kiki whispered, shaking her head.
But the nun reached for her arm.
“Come now,” Sister Maryna said in a stern voice.
Kiki tried to bolt, but the nun gripped her wrist firmly and pulled her through the open archway. She bit her lip while tears burned in her eyes. She always tried to behave. She never complained—not after what happened to her mama. Mama had warned her she had to be good or the bad men would find her.
“I don’t want to go,” Kiki cried out, struggling as Sister Maryna dragged her through a second, smaller courtyard toward the forbidden room.
As they approached the door, a wave of panic washed over her, and she felt a chilling sense of dread. She lashed out with her free hand—not in anger, but instinct—and clamped down on Sister Maryna’s wrist.
Sister Maryna released a startled cry and stumbled back, clutching her arm like it burned. The nun’s eyes were wide as she jerked away from her.
Kiki recognized the emotions flicking across the nun’s face. It was the same look the men who’d hurt her mama had on their faces when they stared at her.
Fear. Disbelief. Confusion. Horror.
Kiki blinked, crying harder. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
The door to the forbidden room slammed open.
“Kiki!”
A man in black robes strode across the dusty courtyard.
Tall, grim, with a collar tight at his throat and a silver crucifix glinting at his chest. Father Bishop was the man the children whispered about when the lights went out. Some said he had once been a soldier. Others said he had no shadow.
She knew who he was. He was the man her mother had trusted.
