Once I close my eyes, my dreams return me to the Gray Sea. I stand on a familiar stretch of dark sand beside a tall stonewall. Crouching low, I set my hands onto the desert floor. A circle of white fire erupts from the ground. From its center rises the form of my mother made from sand. She sits at a desk.

The earth continues to rise, the granules building into the shape of an office.

The circle of fire flares higher, then disappears. The moving sand transforms into flesh and blood. The scene before me comes to life.

Mom looks up from her desk. “Hello, Tim.” She runs her fingertips along the neckline of her blue suit.

Tim’s gaze follows the movement of her fingers across her chest. “You should call me TIM-29.” His voice comes out a little husky.

I’m no lust expert, but it’s possible that Tim has a thing for my Mom. My stomach lurches. Could this guy be my father?

“I’ve been calling you Tim for six months now, that isn’t going to change.” She smiles. Her face looks animated, alive, and dazzling.

I scratch my neck, my head wagging from side to side. I still can’t believe this is the same person who conducts my Maternal Inquisition each morning.

Tim bows again. “As you wish, Senator.”

“For the hundredth time, call me Camilla.”

Tim shakes his head. “No, that wouldn’t be right, Senator.” He gingerly sets a cup of coffee onto her desktop.

“Thank you.”

Tim leans over Mom’s head and inhales deeply. He whispers one word: “Lavender.”

Hair-smelling? That confirms it. Tim definitely has a thing for Mom.

“What did you say?” She scribbles away on a pad.

“Nothing, Senator.” He takes a few quick steps backwards. “Xavier Cross is in the waiting room, again. He insists on seeing you.”

Mom sighs. “He has an appointment in a month.”

I’ve heard that sigh, many times. Whoever this guy is, he’s getting on Mom’s last nerve.

Tim grips his hands at his waist. “He wants to see you today.”

A rotary phone on the desk begins to ring. Mom sets her hand on the receiver and looks to Tim. “Please tell him to wait one month.” Tim nods and leaves the room.

Mom picks up her phone. “Senator Lewis speaking.” She swivels her chair so she faces the wall. “Yes, Ambassador. I understand the complaint.”

On the opposite side of the room, the door swings open. A man slides through. He’s tall and fit with short brown hair, piercing blue eyes and skin the color of milky cocoa. He adjusts the lapels of his gray suit.

Still facing the wall, Mom continues her phone call. “I understand the demand, but we cannot guarantee that a particular soul will go to Hell. I’ll certainly pass the request to Senator Myung.”