Daughter of Destiny (2 page)

"I didn't say I had a
vision."

Naia scowled and removed
the hand on Katarina's arm and wagged her finger. "Don't give me
that bull. I'm worried about what will happen to you if you keep
going as you are."

"Maybe I buried it because
it needs to die."

Naia put her hands on her
hips. "You can't kill a part of yourself, not without damaging the
whole person."

Katarina averted her eyes
from Naia's perceptive gaze. Naia didn't know what she was asking.
The power both called and repulsed her. Nevertheless, the vision of
the man piqued her curiosity. Why was she hearing him? What did
seeing him mean? Perhaps she could use her telepathy without
tapping into the other power.

Naia continued her lecture.
"You know very well your gifts are not all bad."

"I know, but the price is
steeper than you know." She turned and took a few steps away from
Naia. She might recognize the pain of memories in Katarina's
eyes.

Naia grumbled, "Stubborn
woman."

Katarina stared at the wall
in front of her. Time and lack of funds left the institutional
white paint cracked and peeling, but it held no answers for her.
Naia's heels clicked on the bathroom floor and then the door
creaked open. Disappointment, anger, and a longing that Katarina
understood more than Naia could ever guess radiated from the woman
who was a sister in all but blood. Naia wanted the old Kat back,
but she was gone, lost in the past. She couldn't give Naia the old
Kat, but she could try to make Naia happy.

"Naia, wait."

Naia let the door swing
shut again and waited, but she had to step aside when the bathroom
door squeaked open again and Ms. Anderson, the research technician
in the lab next door, walked in.

“
Oh, morning Naia. I didn't
hit you with the door did I?"

“
Morning, Sarah. No, you're
fine." Naia moved out of Ms. Anderson's way and her smile faded
when Katarina came into view.

“
Good morning, Dr.
O'Brian."

Katarina nodded
acknowledgment of the greeting. “Ms. Anderson."

Ms. Anderson scurried into
the nearest stall. Katarina waited for the stall door to close and
then said, “We’ll talk later, Naia." Katarina preferred an OSHA
surprise inspection over talking within hearing of the biggest
gossip in the department.

Naia nodded.
“Tonight?"

“
Yes, I
promise."

***

"Where did that thing go?"
Katarina dug in her purse for several minutes. Naia timed it, but
Katarina failed to set a new record. She patted her pocked and
triumphantly pulled out her key remote. Naia rolled her eyes and
shook her head. Katarina placed her palm on the reader. It
confirmed her identity, disarmed, and the door swished
open.

Once inside, Katarina
called out, "Lights. Evening setting." Naia followed her in just as
the recessed lighting blinked on, chasing away the shadows. The
eclectic collection of twentieth and early twenty-first century
lamps around the room remained dark, awaiting a human
touch.

Katarina strode into the
room depositing her briefcase on a sagging brown chair. She shed
the rest of her belongings in a haphazard trail as she flicked on a
few lamps. A lighter sitting on the coffee table served to light
several candles that sat on various surfaces throughout the room.
Naia parked all of her things by the hideous sofa and then stopped
to examine her reflection in the antique, decorative mirror hanging
on the wall.

"What do you think? Should
I go green or blue next?" Naia asked as she raked her hand through
her purple, spiked hair.

"Do I have to
choose?"

Naia laughed. “I'll ask
Robert. He
likes m
y hair."

"Of course he says he likes
it. You know where he sleeps."

Naia harrumphed and
abandoned her reflection. She turned and grimaced at the familiar,
but annoying sight of Katarina’s living room. At least the
flickering candlelight softened the tackiness of the room and
almost succeeded in making it charming. Naia perched on the sofa’s
arm while Katarina tidied up a bit, or rather relocated piles of
research journals, books, and old junk mail from the sofa to other
unoccupied surfaces.

She smiled as Katarina
frowned at a piece of plasti, muttered to herself, and laid it down
while moving a pile of laundry. After transferring the laundry to
her room she returned to the living room and glanced around with a
puzzled expression.

"I just had the damn thing.
Where’d it go?"

Naia considered telling her
to look on the back of the sofa, but found it more amusing to watch
Katarina hunt for it. Naia counted and three minutes elapsed before
Katarina found the plasti by placing her hand on it by mere
accident. Who would think this woman was a genius? Then again,
operating on a few hours of sleep might numb brain cells in
anyone.

"I’m going to take a quick
shower and change into something more comfortable," Katarina said
and then put the slip of plasti on her desk.

"Good idea." Naia said. She
leaned down and with an experienced tug, slipped off her
spike-heeled boots. She breathed a sigh of relief as she stretched
her arches and wiggled her toes.

"Why don’t you raid the
kitchen and see if there is anything decent to drink?" Katarina
called over her shoulder as she left the room.

As soon as the water turned
on in Katarina's bathroom, Naia’s skin-tight cat suit followed the
boots. She rummaged through her small bag and pulled out a faded
shirt. Robert’s old t-shirt stopped a couple of inches above her
knees. She could just catch his musky scent in the fabric. That
small essence conjured images of his hard body wrapped around hers,
both of them relaxed and sated. She sighed and hugged the shirt
close after slipping it over head. She wandered around the living
room in her bare feet.

She didn’t bother to
contain her shudder as she surveyed the room. Katarina’s tastes, or
rather lack thereof, continued to baffle her even after all of
these years. An ugly plaid couch, whose repulsive color defied its
extreme comfort, held court among the flea market rejects in the
middle of the living room. Naia made a mental note to buy a sofa
cover. Kat might not care or even notice, but at least she wouldn’t
go blind looking at the hideous sofa every time she came
over.

Despite the color-clashing
decor, every item held a memory. She tiptoed past the fish on the
wall, hoping it wouldn't bust out singing, but she passed safely.
Kat must have forgotten to find replacement power cells. The sound
of running water ceased, so Naia headed into the kitchen. She
picked up a hard candy sitting in a bowl on the counter, un-wrapped
it, and popped it in her mouth. Tart lemon tang made her saliva
glands water and she sucked in her cheeks for a minute before
getting accustomed to the sour flavor. Naia eyed the bowl,
wondering if they were all sour. The clear cellophane divulged
nothing, but she refused to act like a little kid at Easter taking
a bite out of each one.

She hesitated in front of
the refrigerator, grimacing in preparation for whatever horror
lurked inside. Naia opened the refrigerator and her jaw dropped.
Milk, juice, eggs, fresh fruit, even vegetables filled the shelves.
"Kat?" She called out. "Did you have an epiphany and decide that
grocery shopping isn’t one of Dante’s circles of hell?" She took
out the milk and heard a muffled sound that might have been
laughter, or maybe muttered insults. She closed the fridge and
opened the pantry. It too had transformed into an unfamiliar
repository of food instead of a handy place to shove excess
clutter. She pushed aside cans of fruits and vegetables. "Good
lord! Are these alphabetized?" After a bit of rummaging she found a
canister of drinking chocolate. Gone were the days when she and Kat
made do with high fructose, carob-soy blended crap.

Several minutes later,
Katarina answered, her voice growing louder as she neared the
kitchen. "I’m paying the neighbor’s kid from across the hall to do
the shopping for me. She’s fourteen and too young to get a real
job. She also organized the kitchen. Too bad she doesn't like
dusting as much as alphabetizing my can goods." Katarina walked
into the kitchen. Water spotted her pale blue pajamas a darker blue
wherever it dripped from her damp hair. "You gotta love cheap
labor."

Naia frowned. "I don’t
think you should have strange people in the apartment."

"She needs the money even
more than I need the help or the groceries for that matter. Her mom
is raising her on a waitress' income and her dad died of
Reaper
f
our years ago. When her mom has to work a double, I let the
kid crash here and gorge herself silly. She’s harmless and
honest."

"She’s a teenager Kat!
Lying is what they do!"

Katarina gave Naia a
knowing look. "You would know, eh?"

"Do you know how many times
I fibbed about where I was going or what I was doing?"

"I have a fairly good idea.
Just as I know Lena lies about not having a boyfriend and never
having seen an R-rated movie, but she never lies about how much the
groceries cost or whether she used my computer or comm
console."

Naia paused in stirring the
milk and stared at Kat. "I thought you didn’t use your
telepathy."

Katarina seemed to find the
ends of her hair fascinating as she muttered, "I never gave it up
completely."

"So what on earth was the
big deal about the vision or whatever you had this
morning?"

Katarina waved a hand as if
dismissing the importance of her omission. "Contacting a person and
speaking with them telepathically requires much more interaction
than a simple little probe to see if a person’s telling the
truth."

"Tell me about the vision."
Naia shook her head at Kat's logic. She added cocoa and sugar to
the milk heating on the stove and waited for Kat to
explain.

Katarina leaned against the
counter and a little furrow formed between her brows as she spoke.
"I think it was a cross between a vision and a telepathic
connection. When you speak telepathically there’s no visual
stimulation unless it is a very deep connection, or you purposely
send a mental image. This morning I pictured a man. I think he's a
fellow telepath."

"Really? How do you
know?"

"When I was working last
night I think he was doing some sort of meditation
exercise."

"It's the same man who got
through your blocks?" She stared at Kat, who nodded toward the pan.
Naia resumed stirring and adjusted the heat lower.

"He wasn’t in my head per
se. It was more like we were on the same frequency and I couldn’t
tune him out."

"So what was he
saying?"

"I haven’t a clue. It
wasn’t English or any other language I recognize. It seems to have
familiar elements and yet the cadence is like nothing I’ve ever
heard before."

"Great. You finally find
another telepath and you can’t even talk to him."

"Well, I might be able to
get around the language barrier."

“
Really?" Naia turned off
the heat and poured the cocoa into mugs. Then she handed Katarina
hers. "Let’s sit." She motioned to the living room.

She followed Katarina out
of the kitchen. She wanted to demand all the details, but she
feared if she pushed too hard Katarina might clam up. She couldn't
recall the last time they talked like this. Sure, there were times
they chatted and Naia begged for advice or they gossiped about
professors in college, or discussed a book they both read, but at
some point an invisible wall grew between them. Katarina deflected
any questions that required sharing what went on in her head. Naia
wanted to whoop with joy at the prospect of recovering the close
bond they once shared. Granted, she didn't think Katarina meant to
hurt her with her silence, but it stabbed at the scars of Naia's
past, threatening to open each and every one.

In the living room, she and
Katarina stretched out on the couch. Naia sipped her cocoa, closed
her eyes, and let the rich taste permeate her senses. She propped
her feet up on the beat up coffee table. Rings from countless
drinks scarred the dark wood, but even damaged the table probably
outranked in price every item in the apartment. Climate change
triggered decades of forest fires that decimated swaths of forest
to the point that all but a few countries enacted stiff regulations
for logging. Most people would refinish the piece and either sell
it or treat it like a museum piece. The only concessions Katarina
appeared to make with regards to its worth were the coasters and
candle plates which protected the wood from further scarring. The
flame from a blue pillar candle reflected in the dark wood and the
pleasant floral scent reminded Naia of forests.

Silence lingered until Naia
gestured with her empty hand. "So, back to the whole telepathy
thing; what's the big deal? Why were you so set on not using
it?"

"Telepathy and empathy
incite emotion. Emotion fuels the other thing inside me. It's why I
keep to myself, Naia. Remember what Mom and Dad's room looked like
when you came to the house after the funeral?"