Immortal Dreams (93 page)

"You're so lucky," she gushes dreamily.

I tilt my head sideways, and then I whisper to Camara in a key too low for Clara to hear.

"Can you give us a minute?"

"I need to go find the powder room," Camara says in an understanding manner, although "powder room" is yet another archaic term.

Clara doesn't even acknowledge her.  She turns to me once Camara is gone.

"I can't believe you moved in with a guy so soon after knowing him.  You're so fearless.  I wish I had moved in with Henry before I married him," she murmurs with a hint of despair.

"What's going on, Clara?" I ask sympathetically for the obvious duress she's in.

"It's nothing.  I didn't mean to come off so pathetic.  How's life with Devin?"

I smile a little and blush.  I can see the swirls of pain still stinging her eyes, and my moment of elation quickly dissipates.

"Tell me.  I'm your best friend.  I know something's wrong," I insist.

She sighs loudly and glances over her shoulder to see if Camara is coming back yet.  When she returns her gaze to me, she looks so sad - nothing like the happy girl she was pretending to be moments ago.

"Henry never does anything besides work.  I saw him more before I lived with him than I do now.  I always thought it would get better after we got married, not worse.  Adisia, I think he's cheating on me.  That's why I drove all the way to New York - to spy on him like some crazy-eyed stalker.  That's where I really was when I called you," she confesses.

I've been here before.  Henry is going to taste what a live wire can do to your insides if he's cheating on her.

"What did you find?" I prompt.

"Nothing.  He went inside a big business and didn’t come back out during the two hours I was watching.  His car is still there," she says while pointing across the street.

"You weren't far away at all," I murmur, my eyes falling across the street as well.

"No.  I sat out here for a little while longer when I realized how close you were.  I'm so embarrassed, but I don't know what else to do.  Either he's cheating, or he's completely uninterested in me," she cries.

Camara walks back over to the table, and Clara dries her tears quickly.  I can see Camara's empathy staining her face.

"I'm sorry, ladies. I forgot I need to call my mother.  Just order for me please, Adisia," she says as another form for excusing herself.

I whisper in my low key once more.

"Can you spy for her?"

She smirks.  "That's where I'm going.  Pigeons rule the streets of New York.  They're constantly breaking into buildings," she says mischievously.

"Yeah, that's no problem.  Turkey burger?" I continue on, as if there wasn't a private interaction going on.

"Yes please," she murmurs before stepping outside.

I stare at my woeful friend who is whimpering into the dainty napkin as she holds back her howling sobs and confines them to a respectable weep.

"He's probably actually working.  Henry has never shown anyone else the slightest bit of attention in the three years I've known him," I encourage.

"He doesn't show me the slightest bit anymore either.  I just need to know why.  I don't know what I'll find out today, but it'll be more than I knew yesterday.  I'm going crazy," she says through a sniffle as she wipes her eyes again.

"Hey, hey, hey.  Don't do this to yourself.  We'll find out what's going on.  You see Camara?" I ask.

"Yeah.  What about her?"

"Henry doesn't know her.  We can send her to find out what's going on," I offer.

Camara hears the whispered conversation, and returns from her falsified phone call.  She sits back down and waits for me to ask without being too obvious.

Clara nods to give her silent approval, and I lean back to start the charade.

"Can you do us a favor?" I ask while trying to keep a serious face.

"Anything," she responds innocently.

"Can you find this guy in there, and see if he's cheating on Clara?" I ask while handing her a picture I have of Clara and Henry.

She's been looking for someone to say his name.  Now she has a visual aide.  Clara will just have to think she's going in personally.

"I can do that," she says with a smirk.

Then she lowers her voice to a whisper as she walks out the door.

"Give me some cover.  I can't actually leave you here and go inside the building."

I look up at the sky, and the green stirs as the fog begins to drift in and cloak the city streets.  Traffic slows to a near halt, horns begin blowing, and Camara disappears from our sight.

"Whoa.  Freaky fog.  Now I can't see anything," Clara gripes.

"Don't worry.  Camara will find out what's going on."

"I feel like such an idiot," Clara says while burying her head into her hands.

The waitress returns with her perky, ready-to-serve attitude.

"Have you ladies decided what you want?"

"Three turkey burgers and three very strong cosmopolitans as well," I say quickly to dismiss her.

Clara glances up at me to see me smirking.  "You have to have a cosmo while you're on a New York stakeout," I say to lighten her despaired mood.

She laughs slightly as she wipes her nose and eyes.  We look over in time to see Camara walking back in.  She smiles as she sits down.

"He's in a boardroom on the fifth floor.  He's pitching an idea that needs investors.  He's telling them about a condominium build he wants to start.  He's not cheating.  There's a room full of men listening, and only one woman.  If he's cheating on you with her, he needs to be slapped in the face because she's not at all aesthetically pleasing."

Clara laughs in relief, but then more tears fall.

"He just doesn't like coming home then," she whimpers.

"He's probably just trying to give you nice things," I offer.

"I just want him.  I'm so tired of going to bed alone while he sits up on the phone or on the computer.  He's constantly away on business, and I'm sitting in that small town dying alone.  Time is passing us by.  You don't live forever," she mumbles.

Oh no.

How am I going to explain to her about my body not aging?  Will I have to lose my best friend in order to shield her from the truth?  I haven't even thought about this.  My mom, dad, brother... everyone will notice that I'm still the twenty-five-year-old girl that never changes.

Camara swallows hard, as if she sees the core of my inner turmoil.  The fog outside lifts when I realize I still haven't released it.  As soon as it does, I can see three men staring through the window at us.

They're blocking traffic, and carelessly moving toward us without any regard for their safety as more cars screech to a halt to avoid plowing over them.

"We have to go now," Camara prompts.

"Now?  We haven't even eaten," Clara says with confusion.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out as I stand to my feet.  I motion for Clara to follow us, and she very warily does so.  I don't even say anything before Deacon is blaring into my ear.

"Get the hell out of there.  Go the back way and turn right out of the exit.  Don't go straight to the apartment.  This could just be a fishing expedition," he warns.

"Got it," I murmur with a slightly panicked edge.

I take Clara's hand and throw sixty dollars on the table behind us.  We weave through the people and finally emerge out the back door.  Camara's eyes are glowing with a perfect pale blue as she controls the eyes of the animals around us.

"They're coming in through the restaurant.  We have to go now," she urges.

"Who?  What are you talking about?  What's going on?" Clara insists.

Deacon drops down from the ridiculously high building, and the sidewalk cracks under his feet as he lands beside of us.  Clara screams at his brutally abrupt entrance.

"I knew this was a bloody bad idea.  We have to get out of here," he gripes.

"Who is this guy?" Clara squeals.

"This is Deacon.  He's about to carry you, and he's going to be moving fast.  Please stay quiet and calm," I coo.

She swallows hard, realizing the intensity of the situation.  Deacon scoops her up, and she lets out a startled gasp.  Suddenly we're flashing through the streets of Manhattan, and Clara has her head buried in Deacon's neck to avoid the sharp, biting winds created from the high speed retreat.

Each twist and turn Camara makes is abrupt but calculated.  She can see exactly where they are.

We come to a dead end, and Camara leaps on top of the building.  Deacon and I follow suit.  Clara's eyes are still closed tightly.

Camara's eyes concentrate as she kneels to one knee.  Clara almost cries when she finally opens her eyes.

"Please tell me what's going on," she whimpers.

I sigh out loudly as I try to think of a suitable explanation that's not going to completely freak her out, but the cracking of concrete behind us halts that attempt.

I whip around to see an immortal, not a human.  I can tell by his swirling, uninfected eyes.

"Well, now.  There you are," he says with an ominous smirk revealing itself.

Camara's eyes widen.  She had been looking for the three.  They were just the decoys, and we fell for it.

"What do you want?" Deacon blares.

Clara steps behind Deacon and slumps against a wall.  I can hear her heart pounding fiercely as she nears hyperventilation.

What have I done?  I have just brought Clara into the middle of our fight.

The man is instantly joined by four others, and in a blink we've just been outnumbered in the immortal department.

"Give me the girl tied to Cole, or suffer the consequences," the man demands.

Camara steps up, and I see the wild growing restless in her eyes as her daring smirk appears.

"I think we'll take our chances with the consequences," she says sardonically.

The man smirks, but I can feel the power in me growing, mounting, and burning against me.

"You will stop," my voice echoes.

The men's eyes glare against me, and their heads bow in submission.  It worked.  I've enslaved them.

"Who do you work for?  What do you want?" I order.

"We want you.  We need Devin Cole, or one of the others Theia loves.  Her son is the key to what she seeks.  She won't stop until she has you," one answers with his intoxicated tone.

"Who won't stop?  What's her name?" I command.

"The daughter of-"

His throat slices in half mid-sentence as three women leap up to join the submissive men.  One girl glares at me when she realizes what I've just done.

"She's a fucking Aphrodite.  That's how we lost the humans," she blares.

"You can't control us, bitch," another boasts with premeditated hatred.

Camara smiles at the new faces as the menacing excitement spreads on her lips.

"Perfect.  I love a good catfight," she hisses.

I can't risk Clara's life with a fight.  I smirk with menace as the men grab a hold of the women and force them to the ground with a violent crushing force.  Camara pouts as the battle between the sexes sparks to life.

"Go.  We have to go now.  I don't know how long I can keep them trapped," I urge.

Deacon scoops Clara back up, and we jump from rooftop to rooftop.  I whisper to Camara.  "You're right.  They're using the humans the way you use the animals."

"We have to tell Devin.  They didn't even know who or what you were," she exclaims.

We take the elaborate labyrinth of detours to make it home without detection.  Camara keeps eyes on anyone that might have eyes on us.  Clara keeps crying as our hasty retreat frightens her even more than the supernatural encounter.

We make it back to the apartment and I pull on her hand.

"No.  I'm going home.  I don't know what the hell you're doing, but I don't want any part of it.  Are you on drugs?" she blares through her tears.

My eyes widen as so many look at us, but they're not the eyes of the possessed, just the curious.

"You're coming in with me even if Deacon has to carry you," I warn.

"I'll scream," she threatens.

I pull her to the side.  "Clara, I've been your best friend for twenty years.  Please, hear me out.  Trust me," I plead.

She takes a deep breath and tightens her lips.  She storms through the lobby to the elevator to show her silent, begrudged acceptation.

We ride the elevator in silence, and Deacon steps out first once the doors open to the penthouse.

"I have to call Devin," he grumbles.

I swallow hard as he walks into the padded room.  Clara turns to me with scolding but inquisitive eyes.

"Are you part of some elaborate role playing game?" she snarks.

I remember wondering the same thing about Devin once - my mind attempting to rationalize the irrational.

"No," I mumble.

"What is going on?" she insists.

Camara walks over to take a seat, and she relieves me of the burden of explanation.

"Adisia is part of our world," she says vaguely.

"What world?" Clara scoffs.

"The immortal world," Camara bluntly offers.

"What?  You're all fucking crazy," she blurts out.

Then concern floods her eyes as she turns to me.  "Adisia, this is a cult.  They're trying to convince you that you're immortal.  I've read about this crap before.  They convince you that you can't die, and then you willingly drink poison or some shit.  You have to get out of here," she whispers.

This would almost be comical if it wasn't so dreadful.

"We're not a cult.  We're very much real, and immortality doesn't offer a life without the consequence of possible death.  It only offers a life without the fragile mortality of your kind," Camara says softly.

"What?  How did you hear that?" Clara breathes in disbelief.

"Show her who you really are, Adisia," Camara requests.

Clara turns back to me expectantly with terrified eyes.  I sigh loudly as I walk over to the window.

I look her in the eye, and I can feel the wind starting to stir.  My hands swirl with electricity spiraling around them.  Clara's eyes try to pop free from their sockets while her mouth does its best to slap the floor.