Abithica (29 page)

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Authors: Susan Goldsmith

Tags: #fantasy, #angels, #paranormal

BOOK: Abithica
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“This shows
you
, more than me,” he said, “that you can achieve that deep meditative state, and you did it with Faith and Lane right here watching you. Do you feel they are helping with their presence? Or would you rather have them leave now?”

“I want them both to stay.”

* * *

I was led to a surprisingly comfortable couch in a different room. Even though Lane had wrapped me in his jacket, I couldn’t stop shaking. Dr. Chen was leaning over me. I got a good look at his shoes. He was wearing the right footwear for it… a pair of orange and yellow striped Converse sneakers. I sensed an aroma of lemon grass and mint as he made certain I was fully relaxed.

“As I explained earlier, Sydney, I’m going to count out loud from one to ten, very slowly. As I count, I want you to listen closely to my voice and follow this crystal with your eyes.” He dangled a crystal about the size of a Roma Tomato above my head. “You will feel your eyes getting heavy, but I want you to keep them open until I reach ten. Don’t close your eyes until you hear me say ten.”

The crystal swung back and forth. I expected tiny rainbows to appear on the walls, but somehow they were contained within the crystal itself.

“One.”

I focused on the crystal’s colors and the sound of his voice.

“Two. Now let go of everything around you, everything in this room, everything you’ve done today. Clear your mind as you listen to my voice.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m afraid.”

“Look at the crystal, not at me or anything else. Look only at the crystal.”

Back and forth it swung, spinning around and around. With each rotation, it grew in size until the flat surfaces resembled doors large enough for me to walk through.

“Within the crystal you are safe. Move inside the crystal.”

Just like that I was inside, looking out.

“Five.”

Five already?
It was like lying in a cozy, warm ice cube.

“Ten.”

My eyes closed without me telling them to.
Wow, this is nice. What was I worried about?

“Sydney? Can you hear me?”

Something stirred within my mind. It was like someone opening a window. I thought I felt a breeze, but it was definitely inside my head.
It’s her. It has to be
. Curious, I listened for her voice. It came, but from far away.
Interstate Bank…
There was a pause.
Across from El Con Mall…

“What?” My voice sounded dreamy, almost hollow.

Rob the bank…

The crystal was no longer above my eyes, but everything was filmy, almost shimmering. Then I heard Dr. Chen’s voice right above my head.

“Is the
before
-Sydney talking to you?” It was Dr. Chen.

“Yes. She said something about robbing the Interstate Bank across from… it sounded like elkin maw.”

“El Con Mall?”

“Yes, that sounds right. I don’t know what that is.”

“What else is the
before
-Sydney saying?”

I relayed what I heard, little by little. There would be five of them, and they’d have machine guns, and whoever shot the most people would get a bigger share of the pot. I was supposed to be the driver, and they didn’t know I’d overheard them setting the date. It would all go down on the fifteenth of December as soon as the doors opened.

“Oh, my God! That’s tomorrow!” Faith cried. Her voice sounded strange, wobbly. Lane’s voice came from another direction, sounding as far away as Sydney’s but much clearer. “Call the police,” he ordered. I could no longer feel the couch beneath me or the chill in the air.
Oh, God! It was happening
.
Right there in Dr. Chen’s office.

Lane was barking at the receptionist. He sounded even farther away. “I don’t care what you tell them,” he was saying. “Tell them whatever you have to. Just make sure they’re at the bank tomorrow morning. Why does she look so different, Dr. Chen? Her face… what’s wrong with her?”

I knew what he must be seeing. I was losing control, being squeezed out. Sydney was pushing, and something else was pulling, something distant. Was it my next host? I clung to the sound of Lane’s voice as I was stretched like a rubber band.

“Sydney? Are you still with us? Can you hear me?” Dr. Chen’s voice hadn’t changed one bit. It was still quiet and resonant, but it, too, was distant, almost a whisper.

The soft voice that answered came from the same, far away point. I hadn’t said anything. That voice didn’t come from me.
She
was talking directly to them, not to me. “Yes. Yes, I’m here!” The voice was filled with wonder.

Of course! I’d been so worried that my secrets would be discovered and wrung out of me, and analyzed, that I’d overlooked this possibility. As soon as
I’d
gone into the meditative state, as soon as I’d moved into the crystal, I’d relinquished control. Sydney had come bobbing to the surface like a cork in water.

She and I were the only ones in the room who knew what had happened. I felt stretched even farther.

Dr. Chen’s voice was so faint I could barely hear it. “When I give the command,” he said, “I want you to count backward from ten, slowly. Say the numbers out loud, Sydney. With each one, I want you to be more aware of your body. Be aware of the oxygen filling your lungs and the rise and fall of your chest as you inhale and exhale. Are you ready?”


No-o-o-o!”
I screamed without a voice.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Start counting.”

With each number, her words became more distinct. She was getting stronger, and I weaker.

“Ten.”

“Nine.”

“Eight.”

“Seven.”

The rubber band snapped. I was no longer tethered.

“Six.”

I was looking down at the scene from above once more, wondering what was keeping me there. I’d never been “allowed” to watch other times, even if I’d wanted to, and now I felt totally empty. Lane was holding one of
her
hands, Faith the other. They were both surrounded by their auras. His was a bluish green. I automatically knew that he was radiating sensitivity and compassion. In doing so, he was opening himself.

And Faith was surrounded by reds and purples. Yes, that was her all right—grounded and strong, lending strength and vision to her daughter.

Sydney’s bubble-gum pink surprised me. I expected a dark, muddy green or blue, or even gray, a cloud of fear about truth. No, wait. Her aura suddenly darkened until it was a lighter shade of Faith’s. Their auras mingled in a gentle caress. They were exquisite beyond words.

Lane and I had joined bodies, but seeing him like this, so raw, so vulnerable filled me with more love than a human body could contain, let alone express.

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

Like a moon to its planet, my new host body was drawing me to it. I stopped struggling and began to pray.
Please God, forgive me. I have behaved selfishly and will probably do so again in the future… forgive me for that, too. I may not understand a lot of things, but I do know I love them. Help me. Help me let go, and then help me remember when I’m human again why I chose to do so.

“Two.”

“One.”

I saw Sydney’s eyes open and focus on Faith, hovering over her. “Mom?”

There was no anger or resentment. She didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see Faith. While Faith smiled down lovingly, Lane leaned over and kissed the ring—my ring.

And then they all seemed to shrink, little by little, until they were no more than a dot. Finally they were gone.

Seattle, 10:45 P.M.

 

I floated, riding a gentle breeze while my consciousness was flooded with endless memories all flying at me from every direction. Each was exquisite in its every detail—faces and situations and places, even other countries. Were they all my memories, or was this another dream? No, not a dream! Too many details, too easily recalled. Some were children, boys as well as girls, but most were women.

These were
my
memories, hundreds of them, a kaleidoscope of faces and names. Then, just as suddenly, they vanished. A brief glimpse was all I’d been given, as if I was being given a review of my past experiences for… what? So I’d be prepared for whatever came next? So I’d be charged up? Wrong. I felt barren instead, an empty wasteland that had been drained of everything I’d held dear. Confusion and anger replaced the floating sensation, followed by a powerful jolt. I’d been stuffed inside a box that was way too small, and the lid had been slammed shut! For some reason I pictured a tortoise shell, which was about as abstract as anything I could imagine until I remembered that Faith had used that term for the burden I carried around on my back.

It was probably at this point during a switch that I’d go into a panic mode until I woke up in whatever new situation was to follow, but this time I didn’t. I lashed out instead. I no longer cared who or where I was. The bitter part of myself simply wanted to scream and cry and flail at Sydney, to hurt her for stealing everything I’d built. I wanted to die, but of course I couldn’t do that. Dying was not one of my privileges. I crammed myself into an obscure corner of my new host’s mind instead, where I couldn’t see or hear or act on the storm of emotions pelting me from all directions, hoping the rage would eventually blow itself out. At the same time I told my bitter half that those I’d left behind were safe and happy, that Lane deserved a human partner, not a monster. Sydney was Faith’s flesh and blood, and I was the imposter.

I
was the one who borrowed
her
life, but stating that fact just increased my misery, and there was no going back. It was over.

Sight was usually the first thing to begin working when I switched, but this time I heard my new host before I was aware of anything else. Another woman, perhaps, or a teenager. Her voice was weak and frightened, and she was crying—alone, scared, hurt, and pleading to be helped.

Was I supposed to help
her?
In my present state, I couldn’t even help myself. I needed time, lots of time. She’d just have to wait until I got over my anger and confusion.

“Hello?” It was her again. “Is… is… somebody there? Are… are you here to help me?”

When I didn’t answer, her hope began slipping. I sensed physical torment, shivering, then flashes of thoughts, none of which connected to any others. Drugs? Was my host a druggie? We were both drowning in our own way. Not only was I experiencing my own loss, I was feeling hers as well. She was pulling me under with it. Holes pierced my already ravaged soul, some of them mine, the others hers. The only thing I could grab onto was the knowledge that eventually they’d start to overlap until there was nothing left to call my own. I held onto that idea like a life raft until it, too, was pulled under.

“Stop,” both of us pleaded at the same time. “Make it stop!”

* * *

“Hey Randall, c’mon out here. Quick!”

Simon’s shaggy head disappeared outside his shop’s back door almost as abruptly as it had appeared. The urgency in his voice was electrifying. Josh Randall wiped both hands on his apron and headed for the back door. What could it be? Nothing back there but an alley, garbage cans, and litter. Probably some dead animal or something, hopefully not another batch of broken glass. Couple of weeks back someone had thrown a whole mess of empty liquor bottles back there, probably tossing them in from the street. Most broke and caused a real mess. The alley didn’t run all the way through like lots of them did in Seattle, so it invited such games, and sometimes drunks.

Simon was bending over something up against the side wall. Yep, looked like a dog… a big one… except dogs didn’t wear ugly dresses. Simon glanced up.

“She’s alive, I think, but it’s freezing out here. Call 911 real quick and tell ‘em we got a girl here in pretty bad shape. No coat on her, almost dead. I thought I saw her breathe once or twice, but awful slow. After you hang up, bring out my coat.” He’d already shed his apron and started arranging it across the body. “I’ll stay here with her, maybe rub her hands. You ever take any of that CPR first aid stuff in school?”

“Nope.”

“Well, just get the EMS here fast as possible. Maybe we can carry her inside, except I read somewhere you shouldn’t move people unless you know what you’re doing. God, it’s cold out here! You remember the last time we were this cold? Must’ve been five, six years ago.”

“What happened to her? She get beat up? Looks like someone cut her dress off.”

“Yup, but that’s not all that’s wrong. Probably a crackhead. Move it, Josh.”

“Underneath all those bruises, she sure is pretty, don’t cha think?”

“Yeah. You wonder sometimes. Move it!”

* * *

“Let’s move it!” Harriet announced, slamming down the phone. “Possible O.D. making her final exit. Fisherman’s Wharf.”

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