Books by Bill Myers

  The Wager

  The Face of God

  Eli

  When the Last Leaf Falls (novella)

  Then Comes Marriage (novella with Angela Hunt)

  The Dark Side of the Supernatural

  Fire of Heaven Trilogy

  Blood of Heaven

  Threshold

  Fire of Heaven

  Soul Tracker Series

  Soul Tracker

  The Presence

  The Seeing

  Children’s Books

  McGee and Me (book/video series)

  The Incredible Worlds of Wally McDoogle (comedy series)

  Imager Chronicles (fantasy series)

  Secret Agent Dingledorf (comedy series)

  Elijah Project (suspense series)

  Blood Hounds Inc. (mystery series)

  Baseball for Breakfast (picture book)

  Bug Parables (picture book series)

  Young Adult Books

  Forbidden Doors (supernatural suspense series)

  Faith Encounter (devotional)

  Get Real (devotional)

  Zondervan

  the seeing

  Copyright © 2007 by Bill Myers

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Zondervan.

  ePub Edition June 2009 ISBN: 0-310-86400-3

  This title is also available as a Zondervan audio product.

  Visit www.zondervan.com/audiopages for more information.

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530

  * * *

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Myers, Bill, 1953 –

  The seeing / Bill Myers.

  p. cm. — (The Soul tracker series ; bk. 3)

  Includes bibliographical references.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-310-24237-6

  I. Title.

  PS3563.Y36S44 2007

  813'.54 — dc22

  2006024641

  * * *

  All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other — except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.

  * * *

  07 08 09 10 11 • 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  a note from the author

  prologue

  part one

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  part two

  interlude

  six

  seven

  eight

  nine

  part three

  interlude

  ten

  eleven

  twelve

  thirteen

  fourteen

  fifteen

  epilogue

  About the Publisher

  Share Your Thoughts

  Finally and always for Brenda . . .

  at the center of my heart

  a note from

  the author

  don’t feel it’s necessary to read either the first book in this series (Soul Tracker) or the second (The Presence) for this one to work. Our hero’s references to the past have more to do with pride than to what has happened. But, just so there’s no frustration, here are a couple quick sketches of the past two stories, vague enough so they won’t ruin your read if you feel like checking them out.

  SOUL TRACKER

  Luke’s dad is wracked by guilt over the supposed suicide of Luke’s older sister. He stumbles on an organization designed to track the soul after it dies. Desperate to know where his daughter is, Dad takes part in an experiment visiting heaven, hell, and everything in between.

  THE PRESENCE

  Both Dad and Luke become unknowing participants in an experiment allowing people to experience the Presence of God. In the process they see deep into the spirit world as well as into their literal souls. Luke’s eyes are damaged and he only catches glimpses of what is happening. Still, when Dad finally releases his protective hold over the boy, Luke winds up leading their group to safety. As they head home they find a piece of the goggles that the head of the experiment had used to observe them. Goggles that, with the unique damage to Luke’s eyes, allow him to begin seeing . . . Well, that’s pretty much where this next one begins.

  Thanks for continuing or beginning the journey with me.

  Blessings,

  www.billmyers.com

  “ i have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: I in them and you in me. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. ” me.”

  Jesus Christ, a prayer

  prologue

  the whirlwind appeared from behind the rocks, its magic shimmering and undulating in the moonlight.

  Momtakwit froze. His heart pounded against the leather pouch of datura root — the only thing he wore against his naked chest. He knew the pillar of sand and dust was Kutyai, an evil spirit. But tonight he needed to save all of his powers to battle an entity far more wicked and treacherous.

  He turned to the mountain looming before him. Already he had seen the pictographs drawn in the cave by other shamans of other times . . . warnings that he had entered the domain of the mighty Tahquitz, hater of all that is human.

  Now he must turn back. If he wished to live, he must leave.

  But, of course, he could not.

  Tahquitz had stolen too many souls, ravaged too many of the village.

  As the most powerful shaman in the Dog Clan, Momtakwit must confront him. He alone had been selected to drive the evil being from Coachella Valley and redeem the land. For the sake of his family. For the sake of his tribe.

  The whirlwind spent itself into gusts and finally wisps, before it disappeared altogether.

  Momtakwit inhaled deeply, then continued his climb. Soon he would arrive at the top of Tahquitz Peak and descend into the evil spirit’s home. There he would finally see Smashing Wall.

  He had never been there, but legend spoke of how the men of his peace-loving village had once become so possessed by Tahquitz’s evil that they gleefully hurled the skulls of their captured prisoners against the wall’s flat surface.

  He thought again of the prophecy, the word spoken over him after three days fasting in Spirit House. Prophecy that clearly stated his bloodline would drive Tahquitz from the mountain. And now, as Tahquitz’s power increased, as men, women, even children throughout the valley practiced more and more of his evil, it was determined this was the time to act.

  A gust of desert wind swept up the face of the mountain. He closed his eyes.

  Tahquitz was near.

  He thought of taking the datura now, of chewing it and allowing its powerful magic to course through his body so that he might be prepared. But Tahquitz was crafty. He could easily hesitate until the medicine wore off and leave Momtakwit unable to enter the spirit world to do battle.

  No, he would wait.

  His people had waited generations for this confrontation.

  He could wait a little longer . . .

  part one

  one

  the guy’s BO made Luke’s eyes water. He had long greasy hair, an eleven o’clock shadow, jeans as brown as they were blue, and a crumpled, stain-riddled Hawaiian shirt.

  “This your first time to Agua Rancheria?” He sniffed loudly, wiping his nose.

  Luke gave a nod and looked out the bus window, hoping to end the conversation.

  No such luck.

  “You’ll like it. The desert, I mean. Nothing but nothing as far as you can see.” He sniffed louder.

  Luke stole a glance just in time to see the guy pinching away a drip of hanging mucus with his hand. His gloved hand. In the middle of June. Proof that the man was not only homeless but a mental.

  “And those stars at night, I tell you — ” another sniff — “God must have been having a fine day creating those.”

  This time Luke didn’t respond.

  The man didn’t notice. “’Course the casino’s kinda messing stuff up. All that bright light and razzle-dazzle. But get away from it and the place is beau-tee-ful.”

  As discretely as possible, Luke cupped his hand over his nose and mouth. They’d picked the guy up in Palm Springs about thirty minutes ago. If Luke’s geography was any good it meant he’d only have to endure another five or ten minutes of his company before stepping off the bus and getting some fresh air.

  In truth, the man was only
a minor nuisance — the last in Luke’s ongoing campaign to get away from home . . . and Dad.

  “You’re smothering me again!”

  “I just don’t think being gone all summer is a good idea.”

  “Six weeks,” Luke argued, “it’ll only be six weeks.”

  “That’s nearly two months.”

  “You’ll be in New York half that time.”

  “That’s got nothing to do with it.”

  “You’re always saying I should get a job, save for college.”

  “It’s too far away.”

  “It’s two hours. I’m fifteen years old, Dad. Fifteen!”

  And so they continued. For the most part it had been a standoff . . . until Preacher Man had weighed in. Good ol’ Preacher Man . . .

  “Come on, David,” he insisted, while working on a bag of potato chips at the kitchen counter. “Let the boy go.”

  It was an unusual friendship — a middle-class, white-bread family and an old black street preacher. Then again, considering what they’d been through these last couple years . . . his sister’s death, his dad’s visits to heaven and hell, and later where they literally saw each other’s souls and the spirit world . . . well, maybe it wasn’t so unusual after all.

  “You already met Pastor Virgil and his wife.” Preacher Man continued munching. “They don’t come any better.

  And they definitely need help gettin’ that church of theirs fixed up.”

  “Yes, but — ”

  “Probably do the boy good. Get him out in some fresh air, doin’ some real work for a change, ’stead of always playin’ with that computer.”

  “What about his eyes?” Dad argued. “He barely remembers to wear his sunglasses around here. What’s going to happen if he gets out in the bright desert sun and forgets — ”

  “I won’t forget!”

  “You say that now, but — ”

  “I won’t forget.”

  And so the war continued. It had taken nearly a month to wear him down. Even at that, Luke had to use every weapon known to adolescence — forced cheerfulness, willingness to do household chores (even when unasked), and listening to the man’s perpetual naggings and repeatings without so much as an eye roll.

  It had nearly killed Luke, but somehow he had succeeded. He had won. Now he was heading out to a desert community for six weeks to help some old pastor fix up some old church . . . and to finally enjoy a little independence.

  The bus turned off the main road and entered the town. As it did, Casino Rancheria filled Luke’s window. It was a monstrous complex of white limestone, giant waterfalls, and fountains complete with roaring rapids and life-sized bronzed replicas of Native Americans in canoes. Portions of ocher-colored pottery protruded from the walls, where mural after mural of desert wildlife had been painted to look like Indian art. And lining the entrance, a dozen Native American heads, twenty feet tall, gazed toward the desert, their faces creased and weathered by the sun.

  It seemed everywhere Luke looked he was reminded of Indian culture. And for good reason. According to Pastor Virgil, that was part of the deal when the casino leased the land from a local tribe.

  As the bus passed the red-carpeted entrance, Luke noticed a handful of protestors carrying signs and placards reading:

  GAMBLING IS A DISEASE,

  GOD IS THE CURE

  KEEP YOUR MONEY,

  AND YOUR SEX, VIOLENCE, DRUGS, CRIME

  ILL-GOTTEN GAIN

  EQUALS

  ILL-GOTTEN PAIN

  A tanned blond guy in his early thirties was leading them. He shouted things Luke couldn’t quite hear while bored security guards stood nearby. Apparently, none of it really mattered, because despite the demonstrators, hordes of people just kept swarming in and swarming out.

  Luke reached into his nylon windbreaker and pulled out what almost passed for the broken half of a pair of night-vision goggles — complete with various wires cut back. Although he had trimmed them, he didn’t have the heart to completely remove them.

  In truth, he hoped to find a way to make the goggles work like they had for Orbolitz — back when the old guy claimed to use them to see into “higher dimensions.” More importantly, he hoped they would earn him the respect he never fully received. Luke had always felt special . . . chosen. And, if he ever got the things to work, they would definitely help prove his point.

  Imagine how different folks would treat him if they knew he could see into the spirit world. It was one thing for those TV preachers and everybody to be jabbering about that stuff, but if he could actually see it . . . well, that would sure get them to sit up and take notice. At the very least he wouldn’t be treated like some stupid kid anymore.

  He raised the broken goggles to his sunglasses and looked at the familiar smears of light and darkness that, for some reason, only he was able to see. Chances are it was because he’d fried his eyes while climbing that microwave tower, or whatever it was, up in Washington. But it made little difference. The point is, despite Dad’s protests, Luke took them wherever he went. And the more he used them, the more he was able to recognize recurring patterns and formations of light.

  It wasn’t much. But being able to see the faint traces did set him apart . . . a little.

  This time the smears darted about the casino — particularly in and out of its entrance. He turned and focused on the protestors. Although the smears seemed a bit more flighty and agitated than normal, they acted pretty much the same as they did around any other group. He started to remove the goggles when something caught his eye off to the right of the casino — a jagged peak, flattened on one side, part of the mountain range they’d been following for the last hour.

  It had no fleeting smudges of lights around it, and Luke wasn’t surprised. The lights usually just hung around people. Instead, what caught his attention was the very top of the peak. It was covered in a shadow. But thicker than shadow. Not as dense as a cloud because he could still see through it. But it was a specific darkness that rippled and quivered. It seemed to pulse ever so slightly . . . almost as if it were breathing.

  Almost as if it were alive.

  misty! Misty, where are you?”

  Pilar slammed the front door to their penthouse suite, the largest at the casino, and stormed across the white carpet toward the hallway and her daughter’s bedroom. She was not happy.

  “Misty?”

  She arrived just as her sixteen-year-old appeared in the doorway. The girl still wore her sleeping sweats and flip-flops. Her hair was unkempt, as thick and black as her mother’s.

  “Oh, hi, Mom.” She sounded too casual. “What brings you home?”

  “You were in the Surveillance Room again, weren’t you?”

  “What do you mean?” She blinked, pushing up the world’s ugliest pair of tortoise-shell glasses. “You told me I could never go in there.”

  “I know what I told you, and you were there, weren’t you?”

  “What? Why would I — ”

  Pilar raised the small electronic box she’d been carrying, complete with dangling cable.

  “What’s that?”

  “Security found it attached to the back of their computer.”

  Misty took it into her hands. “Hm, I wonder what it’s for?”

  Pilar sighed wearily. “You know how the casino frowns upon you hacking into their surveillance system.”

  “But, Mom — ”

  “No ‘but Moms.’ ”

  “Why do you always blame me? You’re always blaming me for everything!” It was the girl’s attempt to go on the offense by playing victim. “It’s like you don’t even trust me.”

  Pilar crossed her arms. “Nice try, no sale.” She shifted her weight and noticed Misty doing the same, obviously trying to block her from seeing into the room.

  “Besides,” Misty quipped, “what do you care? It’s the white man’s casino, and we both know what you think of the — ”

  “My personal feelings have nothing to do with it. What you’re doing is wrong, it’s proprietary information, and it makes them nervous. It makes Bianco nervous.” She shifted again and Misty mirrored her action. “What are you doing in there?”

  “In where?”

  “Misty?” Pilar tried to see past her.

  Once again Misty blocked her view. “It’s just video games and stuff.”