Immortal Dreams (82 page)

Lightning crashes fiercely against the ground, and it flips him backwards once it strikes just in front of him.

The earth quakes beneath him, and it screams in agony from its newly opened surface.  The lightning whistles as it crashes again, and the man is thrown into the lake before he can ever stand back up.

Persia sits down, and I see Devin's eyes clashing with the forced tide as the lake stirs beside us.  The sides start swirling faster and faster until there's a whirlpool pulling everything to the bottom.  I can't see the man, but I know he can't out swim that.

I take ten deep breaths.  I'm doing good not to hyperventilate at this point.

Devin screeches the car against another curve on the winding road, and Persia's eyes are staring behind us.

Devin picks his phone back up again.

"We'll be there in five minutes.  Have it off the ground," he says briskly and hangs up before the person on the other line says anything.

"Be where in five minutes?" I whimper in complete baffled frustration, but he doesn't answer.

The storm above us starts to brew, and Devin jerks my face to his.  He kisses me hard, and I can feel the storm lifting as he uses his foresight to lead him around the winding road while my face obstructs his eyesight.

He releases me just before the goddess consumes me, and I see the storm has vanished from the sky.

He just controlled me.  He just controlled my inner chaos by provoking the goddess's appetite.  I'm not sure how I feel about that.

"You can see them?" Persia asks mildly.

"Only moments before an attack, and not all the time.  It's hit or miss usually," he mumbles.

"I didn't see them coming until you came up.  You're stronger than I gave you credit for being."

"That's how I like it," he says very cockily, and it's almost too sexy for my goddess to withstand.  "Just be ready to bail out.  We're here," he adds while squealing the car at a ninety degree angle, and then he barrels down a muddy dirt path that leads to a vast field.

The car sloshes through the mud, driving it up to almost splash inside the car.  He doesn't even turn off the engine when he jumps out and whisks me out of my seat, treating me as though I don't weigh an ounce.

I see a helicopter hovering approximately twenty feet above the ground, and Devin is pulling me through the muddy field to meet it.  He doesn't give me any warning before he pulls me to him, and suddenly we're leaping through the air and then thudding inside the chopper.  It takes my stomach a second to catch up and slap me in the throat.

Persia glides in just behind us, and the helicopter lifts and surges forward to aide in our retreat.

Devin relaxes as we climb higher, and his arm drapes over me.  I shiver slightly from the overwhelming rush of adrenaline mingling with confusion.

"Who were they?" I tremble out.

"I don't know.  There're so many groups these days, and I never see the names behind the faces coming," he says softly.

"You need to stay calm.  A storm will take down this helicopter, and it could cause serious injury to any mortals around," Persia cautions.

How can I stay calm when she puts it that way?  Oh I need alcohol - lots and lots of alcohol.

I close my eyes and think of anything at all besides the crazy episode going on below.  I think of promiscuous winds dancing with the sands of the beach.  I think of the glimmer of the stars blurring against the small ambitious ripples of the miniscule lake which is desperately trying to mimic the glorious waves of the ocean.

Then my mind flashes to a memory rather than a thought - one I had completely misplaced in the shadows of my mind where all the unimportant information gets stored.

There's a blond-haired woman sitting proudly in the stands.  The large gymnasium is packed to the brim, but her beauty calls for my attention.  Her dark sunglasses strike me as odd, given the night sky and intimate enclosure.

Tears slip out from under the frames, and she dabs them lightly with her tissue.  She doesn't speak to anyone, or even act as if she knows anyone around her.  She only claps when they call out my name.

I walk across the stage, accept my diploma, and smile at my doting parents.  My eyes revert back to the mysterious stranger, but she has vanished.

It was her.  It was Persia.  My mother came to my high school graduation.

Chapter 10

The Motherly Stalker

I walk out of the bathroom while towel drying my hair.  My water-loving wonder is staring out the window and talking on his phone.

My mind has been so congested I didn't even hear him talking while I was in the shower.

"Good.  Anyone from our group hurt?" he asks with concern.

"No.  We're fine.  Just a few scratches, nothing major.  Are your visions failing you?" Kry asks teasingly.

"I don't trust them in situations like this.  I'm worried I'll confuse wishful thinking with visions.  Just bring our bags to the room.  The helicopter is on stand by."

"It's a damn good thing you think so far ahead.  I always thought it was a waste of money to have someone on constant stand by out there," Kry says a little shakily.

Devin sighs lightly while speaking.

"I've got more than enough money to ensure the safety of anyone undergoing training, especially Adisia."

"How is she?"

Devin turns to me just as my dampened, chocolate-glazed hair falls free from the clutches of the towel and cascades around my bare shoulders to graze the top of the towel clasped at my chest.

"Tell Kry I'm fine," I say with a smirk to let him know I've been listening in.

He smiles faintly at me, and then Kry speaks a little louder.

"Thank you for not losing control," he chuckles.

I half smile at his morbid sense of humor.  He seems so indifferent to the recent events that have just unfolded.

"We'll see you when you get here," Devin murmurs, and then he pushes his phone back into his pocket.

He smiles a little bigger when he fully inspects my towel-wrapped state.  His eyes swirl with seductive danger, and the goddess stirs.

"I need a shower too," he murmurs while kissing me.

"I got pretty muddy.  It's possible I missed a spot or two," I seduce.

He smirks deviously, and then his eyes stare into mine that are most likely green at this point, given his look.

"We're in a hotel with quite a few mortals.  We need to refrain from anything that will provoke your goddess.  I'll be done soon.  The clothes from the emergency pack are just over there," he murmurs while pointing to the bag in the corner.

He's right about needing to refrain.  My mind scrolls through childhood memories as he walks away.

I do my best to subdue the Aphrodite within by reliving each memory.  As it did before, another memory springs free from the dusty corner of my mind.

A woman standing by a black car is watching me play soccer.  I'm an eight-year-old girl with freckles still attached to the end of my nose.  A scarf drapes around her head, and the dark shades hide the eyes of the woman I think is staring at me.

I'm distracted by her for a moment, and then Clara screams my name before she passes me the ball.  I score the winning goal and race across the field to dive on the team pile.

I stand back up just as the mystery woman's black car is pulling away.  Her shaded eyes stare at mine through her side mirror until I can no longer see her at all.

She was there, too.  She's been watching me.

The words she said when she first appeared at the safe house flash through my mind.

I always know where my daughter is.

Those were her exact words.  She's been watching me my whole life.  Is it possible she really did care about me?

I pull on my clothes before I walk into the steamy bathroom and see Devin's phone on the counter.  He pokes his head out from behind the curtain with suspicion in his eyes.

I'm not in the mood to seduce though.  The goddess has been thoroughly subdued by this dramatic memory.

"I just need to use your phone, if that's okay?" I mumble.

His eyes soften as I stare down at the daunting device that I barely know how to work.  Mine is so much simpler.  I've used this one three times, and I still struggle to find out where you go to actually make a call.

"Yeah.  Of course.  You don't have to ask," he says with a slightly offended tone.

"Thanks," my strained voice releases as I walk back out.

He doesn't have to ask who I'm calling because he'll hear every word of my conversation with the most loving mortal I know.  I have to talk to my mother - the one who raised me.

"Hey, honey.  I've got this number in my phone now."

I laugh a little at her chipper spirit, and then I sigh loudly as I dread the burden of the question I have on my mind.

"Mom, I need to ask you something."

"You can ask me anything.  Is everything okay?" she asks with a twinge of worry.

"Yeah, it's fine.  I just have a question that's going to seem a little random."

"Okay.  Ask away."

"Do you know anything about my birthmother?  All I know is that she took your life savings and ran for the hills.  I'm just wondering if she's ever tried contacting you since then."

Her voice softens as she speaks through an emotional rattle.  "Oh, honey.  Why do you think she took our life savings?"

"I heard you telling Grandma that you spent your life savings to adopt me when you and dad were having financial problems," I mumble guiltily.

She sighs out with her own guilt plaguing her breath.

"I'm sorry you ever heard such a thing, but that was not meant in the context you took it.  I wish you had told me this sooner.  You've dealt with this for that long?  You were just a child when Mom and I had that conversation."

"Yeah.  Just tell me, please," I whimper.

"I'll tell you everything I know.  I just never thought you wanted to know," she says with such stabbing waves of guilt now clearly demonstrating its power in her voice.

"I didn't, but now I do.  Don't ask why, please."

"I don't need to know why, sweetie.  When we adopted you, it was a private adoption.  Firstly, we were young, and so was our life savings.  Don't think for one minute we had mounds of money on hand.  The money went toward legal fees mostly, and then baby supplies, and various other things.  None of that money went to your birthmother.  I'm so sorry you thought it did."

I almost cry when I hear that she never took a cent.  She might actually be telling me the truth about her reasons for leaving me behind.  I steady myself when I hear the storm starting to stir.  I breathe in and out very slowly and the thunder stops.

"Did she ever ask you anything about me while I was growing up?" I ask softly.

"No, sweetie, but she did do something else.  I never told you because you were doing so well in everything.  You had never asked questions about her, and I didn't want to force those questions on you.  Not to mention, she asked me not to."

I gasp a little.

"So you did talk to her?" I prompt.

"Not exactly.  Around the same time you heard that conversation your grandma and I shared, your father and I were on the verge of losing our house.  We were trying to make do until after Christmas.

"I remember I sat down with you and Jake, and we made out your Christmas wish lists.  You wanted a pink princess room.  You had so many pictures on hand to show me when I asked you what you wanted.  You had cut up every magazine with anything pink or princess.  I fought back the tears as we put the letters in the mail to be delivered to Santa, knowing I wouldn't be able to grant your wish.

"The next morning I woke up and started my usual routine.  When I went to pour a cup of coffee, there was an envelope on the counter.  It was addressed to me, and there was no way anyone could have put it there.

"Your father was still at work, the doors were locked, and the windows were locked as well.  I opened it up with terrible worry for what I was going to find.  I remember screaming when I pulled out a check for fifty-thousand dollars.  Obviously I thought it had to be a twisted, cruel joke, but then I read the letter inside the envelope.  I've read it at least a thousand times, and I have it memorized.

"It said:
Don't make your children leave their home.  Use this to give them stability, comfort, and security.  Buy Aphrodisia her pink princess room - every detail in the pictures.  Please give her security in a world full of scary realities.  Please don't ever tell her about this.  Let her know you've always given her what she needed.

"That Christmas you got your pink princess room and a special delivery arrived.  An ornate tiara was inside a package with your name engraved along the rim of it.  The same one you still have."

I feel the tears streaming down my cheeks with fever.  I choke slightly on the emotions invading me, and the wind claps against the side of the hotel.  She really did care about me.  I spent my whole life hating the woman who just wanted to give me a better life than she had - a normal childhood with the stability she craved.

Devin walks into the room with a low pair of jeans dangling from his hips and his sympathy for me etched in his face.  I cry a little harder as he wraps his damp arms around me to comfort the inner storm.

"I'm sorry, Adisia.  I should have told you.  I love you.  Please don't hate me," she sobs.

"I don't hate you at all.  I love you.  I need to go right now though," I choke out.

"Okay.  I'm here if you need me."

"I know," I mumble as I lay the phone down and sob harder into the warm, embracing arms of Devin.

He soothes me, and the storm outside lessens as he strokes my hair.  His lips collect mine in a soft, comforting kiss to bring forth the peace he always induces.  I pull back and take a deep breath.

"I need to see Persia."  I sniffle.

"Do you need me to do anything?" he asks softly.

"Come with me, please.  I don't want to do this alone, even though I know I should."

He stands up and takes my hand in his to pull me from the bed without the slightest bit of reservation.