Legacy of a Dreamer (12 page)

Then his lips were against her ear, his hot breath wafted across her face. “I’ve told you, Chantal. I am your master now . . .”

::§::

Chantal’s eyes suddenly opened as she frantically looked around for the scary man in her dream. In a near panic, she realized she was in a room she’d not been in before, however, the stone wall resembled the one in her dream.

A large hand came to rest on her forearm, and the mere touch felt heavy and dire. She feared it was the evil man from the dream, that horrible nightmare flowing into reality. Had the bad one Lydia spoke of ensnared her into a trap? She closed her eyes willing it all away.

She screamed; her arms and legs both working in tandem to put distance between the two of them.

“Chantal, it’s me . . .”

She opened her eyes and saw Mathias sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her with a timid expression. He held is hand up, palm forward, trying to relay she was safe.

“Mathias?” she whispered. “What happened? Where am I?”

“You fell asleep with Lydia, but you looked uncomfortable. I brought you in here, instead. It’s late in the afternoon.”

Blinking away tears, Chantal looked around her. She sat on the corner of the bed, her legs entangled in the sheets. The small room had four plain walls, a simple wooden dresser, and the bed they were both sitting on. She ran a hand over her face, and felt the crusted dried tears and sweat. Any other day she would’ve been embarrassed, but there were more pressing matters to address.

“Where am I?”

“It’s a room they keep for older Oracles, just in case. I guess Father Ralph figured a woman would appreciate more privacy.”

Chantal nodded, understanding that a girl Lydia’s age would be too frightened to sleep alone in such a flat and drab room. With no windows, very little light, and dull colors, the room looked as if it belonged in a mental ward. Even the bed, with its white linens and sharp corners, resembled a hospital bed.

Slowly regaining her senses, she noticed the bed they were sitting on took up the majority of the wall, leaving just a small space on either side. She also noticed Mathias had changed into a pair of black sleep pants and matching wife beater. She couldn’t help but take note of how handsome he looked.
 

“I’m sorry, I had to stay,” he said. “You kept muttering in your sleep, and I was afraid you’d get scared if I wasn’t here with you. I realize you may still be upset with me, but that doesn’t change my duty to watch over and protect you.”

“Yeah . . .” She looked down, somewhat embarrassed. She’d never shared a bed with a boy before, let alone a full-grown man like Mathias. An odd sensation formed in the pit of her stomach, both from apprehension and excitement.

And with her first experience sharing a bed, her subconscious decided to wig out on him, leaving her looking wild-eyed and disheveled like Medusa on crack.

Perfect.

Yet even though she knew he’d been there as a shadow and watching, he must have seen her lose it throughout the years. With the “real” man beside her, she was very aware of his presence, feeling mortified and that she owed him an explanation.

“I’m sorry I freaked out on you. My dreams can be . . . vivid . . . and hard to tell the difference from the dream and waking at first.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Mathias chuckled, the sound making her smile.

“Just so you know, I’m not. Upset with you, I mean.” She shrugged, tugging the sheets up a little more. “It’s just . . . it’s a lot to take in. And I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me about it in the first place.”

“I’ve always thought about telling you,” he said, looking ashamed. “All those nights I watched you, I wondered how life would be once you knew.”

“Really?”

He nodded. He stared at her, seeming to be lost in his own thoughts. Chantal cleared her throat after a few moments, feeling awkward.

“I’m sure waking up next to a deranged lunatic wasn’t part of your plan.” Chantal tried to laugh, but it came out more like a snort. She rubbed her arm nervously, as if she were cold. Not due to a chill in the air, but from the strange, new tension between them.

“Wait, I thought you don’t remember your dreams,” Mathias said, scooting himself closer to her.

 
“I-I don’t,” she said, fixated on the small amount of space between them. “I mean, I do at first, but I’ve always tried to push the images away so that I don’t dwell on them. Helps the anxiety . . .”

“Do you remember anything about this one?” He leaned against the metal headboard, watching her curiously.
 

Chantal looked up and couldn’t help glancing at his muscled form before meeting his gaze, trying to concentrate on his question instead of his proximity. Being around him felt different, she was more perceptive of him and her surroundings, but she didn’t want to dwell on the change quite yet.

The importance of getting the images to the warrior for him to help explain what they meant was more important than how she felt at the moment. Instead, she tried to focus on the dream, recalling the confusing images from her mind despite how it made her stomach queasy from apprehension.

A long hallway, terrified voices, and the feeling of complete and utter vulnerability crept into her mind. A man in black, evil and decrepit, stood out the sharpest. Chantal shuddered, feeling the fear and being in his presence as strongly as she did in the dream until she felt her warrior’s hand cover hers. She relaxed taking in a deep breath before she spoke.

“I remember being trapped inside of a room. Someone warned me not to go inside, but I did anyway. A man was waiting for me, and he chained me on the wall—”

“Wait, who warned you not to go in there?”

“I’m sorry,” Chantal whispered, wiping a stray tear from her eye.

“Don’t apologize. Just take it slow, okay?” Mathias laced his fingers through hers, serving as an anchor. Taking another deep breath, she resolved herself to get this all out.

“Maybe they were other Oracles, I don’t know. I remember several female voices telling me to stay away from the room. I don’t know who; I—I never saw them.”

“Do you know where they are?” His eager tone made Chantal cringe—she hated to upset him.

“I don’t know. I think they were hiding somewhere. The hallway had many closed doors and one opened. I had the feeling they were locked behind the closed doors.”

Mathias seemed to deflate. His first possible clue where other women like her could be, and she couldn’t remember the details. She felt useless and pathetic.

“Hey . . .” A gentle hand lifted her chin. As she looked into his eyes, she found nothing but compassion and understanding.
 

“This is going to take time. Don’t beat yourself up for not remembering the specifics the first try. You are new at trying to recall the dreams rather than pushing them away. I am here to help you, if you let me. It is my duty and honor.”

“But those precious girls out there are so much more traumatized than I am. It’s not fair! I’d rather take on that pain than watch them suffer through it.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to protect them as she did, even more so than her foster sisters, but the more she thought about the babies and little girls, the angrier she got. Hot tears fell as the feeling of helplessness consumed her.

“Chantal, we don’t know what they can remember,” Mathias said, pulling her closer. She went willingly, laying her head on his chest as his words soothed her. “Lydia is old enough to tell us what she sees, and it took several months of coaxing for her to relay those messages. Even then, they’ve been vague. As for the other children, they are quite normal during the day. We suspect that those images disappear for them as they’re gift is not as developed, or they force them to fade just as they do for you.”

“They don’t disappear altogether. I just try to push them out of my mind,” she said. The warmth of his skin through his thin shirt, along with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, was comforting, and she felt more confident to share the nightmares in greater detail.

“I didn’t recognize the man’s face,” she said. “But something about him seems familiar. He kept me chained, and did . . . horrible things.”

She felt Mathias tense as he pulled her tighter against him.

“I will protect you,” he pledged, his voice filled with utter dedication. She pushed herself back and turned to look at him, his eyes blazing with truth and confidence in his ability to protect her. For a brief moment, she saw something else she didn’t recognize, but assumed her emotions were clouding her interpretation.

“I know you will,” she said.

They were both silent for several moments, time seeming to count the daylight hours away. He gently stroked her hair, and she was confused by how much she enjoyed how his arms felt warm and comforting around her body. She heard nothing but his steady breathing and rhythmic heartbeat and let her mind drift into deep thoughts that would’ve been terrifying if it hadn’t been for his presence.

Lydia had warned her of an evil man looking for the both of them and then that very night, she dreamed of being held captive, alone and scared. She didn’t understand this new world she’d been thrust into, yet now more than ever, she accepted that someone or something was coming for her.

In that moment in her warrior’s arms, she felt like she could prepare herself for anything. Time might not be on their side, but she was determined to capitalize on every single moment to prepare her for the battle at hand.

Mathias had fought for her, and she’d fight for her freedom and for that of her Oracle sisters.

“Wake up!”

   
A pounding on the door jolted Chantal from a light sleep, and she felt Mathias extricate himself from below her. Rubbing a hand over his face, he reached for the lock with the other one, glancing back at Chantal with a sleepy smile.

“Mathias,” a deep voice greeted, and the sudden tension in her warrior’s posture did not go unnoticed. In an unfamiliar language, he began to have a heated exchange with the visitor.
 

Mathias turned and leveled her with a grave expression. “We have to go.”

“Why? Wha—”

She was cut short when a hulking man stepped through the door. It wasn’t his presence or his harsh exterior that brought her up short. It was his eyes. Those vivid, golden eyes she’d seen countless times in her youth, making the hazy memories return more sharply than they’d ever been before.

“Hello, Chantal,” he greeted warmly, and a tear streaked down her face as she stared at the owner of those unforgettable eyes—the eyes of her werewolf protector.

“It’s you . . .”

“Chantal, this is my brother, Titus.” Mathias said with a hint of hesitancy.

She was about to say something when he held his hand up. “We will speak later. For now, we must run. He’s found you. The others are coming.”

“What do you mean? H-how do you know?” She rose from the bed and pulled on her sweatshirt as Mathias turned off the light and retreated into the Shade. He returned just as fast, already dressed in black and clutching a pile of battle gear.

“They are approaching from the north,” Mathias said. He quickly donned a Kevlar vest that had rows of knife holsters situated along the zipper line. “Aidan is already fighting them off providing us with a head-start.”

“We don’t have much time,” Titus said. Chantal glanced between the two men, frantic. Out of thin air, both of their jackets were loaded with several types of weapons. Without further comment, they stalked toward the door, Mathias pausing long enough to grasp her hand.

In the nursery, a flurry of activity added to the sense of urgency. Half a dozen women hurried around the vast room, preparing food, water, and backpacks, shouting panicked words in false calm and tranquility so as not to upset the children.

The nuns were all dressed in street clothes and work-type boots, ready for quick travel. The infant girls were strapped across their front, in wrap-around baby slings custom-made with Kevlar lining as well to protect them from harm as they traveled. “Chantal!” Lydia yelled then charged toward them and crashed full-throttle into her, wrapping her thin arms around her legs. “He’s coming for us.”

“It’s okay, baby,” she said, running a hand through Lydia’s hair. She could feel the girl trembling at her side. She bent to scoop her up, and Lydia buried her face into Chantal’s hair as if hiding from whatever was coming for them.

“Get the lights!” Mathias said, and she watched in wonder as Father Ralph ran over to a plate of light switches, flipping them off. The far corner of the room fell into darkness, and the women holding the infant girls fled to one side of the room. Mathias and his brother stood in front of the congregation, serving as protectors.

“This is my favorite part,” Lydia whispered, raising her head.

Warriors, each distinctively marked with the gray skin of the Fallen Sons, stepped out of the Shade. Armed with swords and black body armor, Chantal counted about seven. Mathias stepped forward with a fist over his chest in greeting.

“They come,” a warrior said, his skin morphing into a light chocolate brown. “We have to get them out quickly.”