The Source By James Michener Novels & Stories

“Some choices you make once and they define every choice after. This is mine.” She walked into the silver garden. The Source’s light wrapped around her immediately. Welcoming. Familiar. “We need to go north,” she said. “I know,” the Source replied. “I felt it wake. Felt the grey spreading. Felt lives ending.” It paused. “I am afraid. This one is different from Ash. Older. Hungrier. Less curious.” “Will you try anyway?” “Yes. Because you would. Because twenty-two people suffered underground to teach me that trying matters more than certainty of success.” The Source brightened. “But Lena. If this goes wrong. If I fail. If hunger wins today.”

"You’ll remember, just like you remembered Micah’s name. And maybe you don’t need a healer to do this. These memories came back without her." "Maybe they came back because of you." James’s gaze returned to her. He caught sight of her encouraging smile and licked his lips, his expression changing yet again. From wistful to heated, his cheeks flushing, his fangs peeking out. Little beads of sweat popped up on his brow. "Me?" The rising sun cast muted, golden rays over their camp. Though he remained in the shadows, his bronzy skin seemed to glow. James's eyes swirled, liquid silver, hypnotizing her.

she asked, involuntarily frowning. James shook his head and said, “I don’t know. A stranger gave it to me. He was extremely powerful and I couldn't counter any of his moves. He could’ve killed me if he had wanted to. But he didn't, and instead gave me this envelope.” With a puzzled expression, Maxine said, “Mount Arclens is a volcanic mountain. There’s no one living within two hundred and fifty kilometers of it. Just who is it that wants you to go there, and what do they want?”

"Yvie!" I frowned and shook him off, snapping coolly, "Please watch yourself, Mr. Grant. If you came to apologize for Susie Grant, then you don't have to—I'm not interested." My coldness stung him, but he smiled wryly. "No, I didn't come for her." Then, taking a deep breath as if to steel himself, he looked at me with his bloodshot eyes as he said, "I came to apologize about what I'd done in our past lives. I know you reincarnated too, Yvie."

The approaching James' expression is apocalyptic as he shoves his way through the revellers and towards me, trailing wrath and thunderbolts in his wake. How did he find me? I press my drink into Hickman's hand. "You'll have to excuse me. This is a conversation I'd rather not have right now." But as I turn to leave, I find my escape blocked by Mickey, clutching Zombie Girl's hand. "Mr Klempner, I remembered something..." Fuck... Stay and learn what I need? Or make a sharp exit... And as I hesitate, James arrives. He hisses through gritted teeth. "Klempner..."

She flings her arms around my neck and reaches up to kiss me, then she looks at James. He shakes his head, "It's from Michael, not me. I'm not even sure what this is all about." And I'm not going to tell you. This is mine.... She settles into an armchair, knees curled up, leafing through the pages of 'The Thousand and One Nights' looking at the pen and ink drawings and the colour plates, her expression rapt. I think we can call that a success.... "Nibbles, anyone?" I ask. Charlotte nods and returns her attention to the book. James grunts a 'Yes'. And as I stroll through to the kitchen, in search of bread and olives, I find myself humming.

It didn’t take long for a knock to disturb my short-lived peace. “Come in!” I groaned and sat up, leaning on the headboard. A white man in his twenties, right about my age, entered with a suitcase in hand. I know his face. He was that private doctor of Alexander’s in my memories. The perfect resemblance. “Jarris.” “I’m Jerrald Conan, Miss Ravene. A pleasure.” “Oh. My mistake. You resemble someone I know.”

"Show me. Shoot me. Or promise to always kneel. His conscience was like fire, and the pistol felt heavier. There was no way to get from redemption to tragedy. He looked at Mimi, the woman who had once trusted him and maybe still did, but the pain had made her trust him less. In that peaceful moment, James recognised the truth: it wasn't about power. It was about whether he would finally be alone, with no ties or shadows. He steadied the rifle and held his breath. Damon laughed and his voice was sharp as a razor. "James, you're still weak. Always have been. The air was full with dust and the stench of mould. The chandeliers of the casino had long since broken, and the crystals sparkled dimly

Kai Abraham let out a heavy sigh, like he’d been holding the truth in his chest for too long. “Everything fell apart after Narva,” he began. “James went missing. My cousin may be private, withdrawn even—but he wasn’t violent. He left home to escape the Moonchild extremists. He wanted peace, not blood.” He looked up at me, eyes shadowed. “Michelle might’ve had the capacity, but not James. The destruction in Narva? That wasn’t him. But when he vanished… it didn’t make sense. So I started digging.”

sometimes he thought he was the real Mistress of Meyer Mansion. Nickolas Meyer was a tycoon with shattering skeletons in his closets that no one knew about, James made sure that no one ever will. the road to the top hadn't been paved with roses and sweet aroma. with James silently by his side, he had soured to the top like an Eagle. and he preferred it that way. James glanced at the metal watch on the wall. it was after eleven pm. he needed some sleep if he was going to function properly. he knew what sweet dreams he will be having that night.