Purpose (10 page)

My subconscious seemed to know exactly which
buttons to push. Of course, it’s not like I could hide my buttons
from myself. I just had to deal with the torture.

“Everything looks fine,” Owen said, returning
to me.
Yep, still had to deal with it.
“Do you think you’ll
be okay?”

I nodded and said quietly, “I’m so tired. I
just want real sleep.”

I lay my head on the desk. Would I simply
continue sleeping here? Couldn’t I wake up long enough to get to
the bed? Or was I already in bed? I tried to stand up. I nearly
fell back down, my legs wobbly and weak.

“Whoa,” Owen said, catching me.

I refused to look at him as he picked me up.
His arms were hard and strong. I kept my eyes closed and tried to
pretend he was the one I wanted.
It’s just a dream anyway, so it
should be easy, right?
The illusion came easier than I’d
expected. A slight electrical current prickled where his arms
touched my shoulders and the backs of my knees. As he carried me
into the bedroom, I could even imagine the scent of mangos and
papayas, lime and sage and a hint of man. I wanted to bury my face
into his chest. But I worried my subconscious would turn everything
around and I’d end up dreaming I fell into bed with…
Nope. Not
going there.

“I’ll stay here for a while, make sure you’re
okay,” Owen said. He leaned over and I felt the soft bed under
me.

“No, you don’t—”

“It wasn’t a question. I’ll keep watch. You
just get some rest.” I felt his lips press briefly against the top
of my head. I kept my eyes tightly shut, afraid my subconscious
might see that button—the bright one that flashed between
“Possibility” and “Nearly as Good.” But I felt the movement as he
stood back up and then heard his soft steps on the thick carpet as
he headed toward the door. Part of me didn’t want him to leave. But
I was afraid of what might happen…of the possibilities.
Not
replacing him!

Then the memory-dream finally returned, my
real hero as the star, feeling so close to me.

I lay in bed at 5:15 the next morning,
holding onto those memories, onto Tristan’s face. The image had
finally been clear enough for me to see him. And now that I was
awake, back in my own miserable world, I had to face reality that
he wasn’t with me.

As soon as the sky lightened enough to run, I
dashed out the door, grateful I’d decided to pack my new running
gear. I ran along the unfamiliar streets, heading south, where I
knew I would eventually hit water. When I did, I paused to gaze
over it. The only sounds filling the air were the waves hitting
against the concrete seawall below and seagulls cawing at each
other overhead. The scene might have been peaceful if my body
wasn’t screaming to
move
. As I turned to head back down the
street, someone caught my eye.

He was still too far away and too hidden in
shadows to see his face. Somehow, though, I knew he was the
stranger. The same stranger who’d been in my yard and at the park
all the way back in Atlanta. And I knew now he was a hallucination.
I’d been imagining him all along. He took several steps toward me
this time. The gait was painfully familiar.
He’s not real. Not
real!
Panicked by the realization, I ran the other way, as fast
and as hard as I could, not paying attention to where.

I wanted to get away from that delusion
because it meant I really had lost my mind. I’d been trying so hard
to see him, my imagination created false images, like someone lost
in the desert searching for water for days and stumbling toward an
oasis that’s really just a mirage. I slowed, tears blurring my
vision.

And I heard footsteps behind me. I glanced
over my shoulder and saw another runner following my path. He
gained on me quickly. I sped up, but he ran much faster.

Daemoni! Evil! Run! Go! Faster!

Shit!
Shit, shit, shit!
He
wasn’t following me…he
chased
me. I cranked my legs as fast
as they could go, digging into the ground and springing forward. A
beastlike growl rumbled behind me, way too close. My heart pounded
and my breathing came hard, the first time I’d had any difficulty
running. But exertion didn’t tax my energy. This was all-out fear.
This is real. Just a few more seconds….

At least I’ll be with my love.

I impulsively stopped at the thought and
waited. Waited to be caught and captured and possibly killed.

Just
take me!

But the footsteps fell silent. I whirled
around. The runner was gone. No trace he’d even been there.

I stared down the street in bewilderment and
turned in circles. No sign of anyone.
Another delusion?
I
swore he was real…but maybe not. And if not, then I really was
falling over the edge, into complete madness. In fact, that was the
only explanation because I’d just been willing to give myself up,
leaving my son as an orphan.
How could I?
An evil snicker
sounded in the back of my head.

I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my heart and
clear my head at the same time. And an invisible, yet crushing
weight fell on top of me.

Mangos and papayas, lime and sage.

“
What are you doing here?! Get to a safe
place!
”

My heart and my breathing both stopped. That
scent…that voice. That lovely, smooth, silky voice. Tristan’s
voice. And not twisted in pain, screaming my name. I’d never
allowed myself to hear his voice in my mind, knowing it would be
too painful. I couldn’t control scents—they wafted in on their own
from innocent sources. But his voice…I would purposely have to
recall it. My subconscious did it for me in my dreams—just to hear
his last five words I clung to so desperately. But I wouldn’t allow
my conscious mind to do it. I could hardly believe it still
could.

The smell and the sound overwhelmed my sharp
senses and crushed my fragile soul. I broke down in the middle of
the street, crying, turning round and round to try to find a
source. The street was residential, with big houses, old trees and
fences surrounding the yards. Nobody around.
Holy hell, I’m
going out of my freakin’ mind!

As I continued turning in slow circles,
something caught my eye. It was so obvious. A mango tree stood not
too far away, baby fruit hanging from its branches over the fence
it stood behind. I took a deep, ragged breath and exhaled slowly.
At least there’s a partial explanation
.

Calming myself with that thought, I began
walking down the street slowly, trying to get my bearings so I
could head back to the hotel. I focused on the street sign thirty
yards away and almost didn’t notice the runner coming from the
cross-street. My heart stuttered when I saw him, thinking he was
the Daemoni runner again. And then I realized who he was.

He turned down the street I walked on,
running away from me. He wore black running pants and a black
t-shirt and his brown hair hung down past his shoulders in a
ponytail.
It’s not who I want. Why would I see him so different
than my memory?
But I couldn’t help it. Even knowing he wasn’t
real, knowing he wasn’t my love, I impulsively chased after him,
running as hard as I could. Though I’d gained some speed over the
last couple days, I couldn’t catch up to him.

“Wait!” I yelled. “Please!
Wait!
”

He disappeared down the street. I kept
running, tears flowing, not able to see where I ran. So it was easy
to get knocked off my feet. Someone grabbed me from behind.

“Are you
crazy
?” Owen seethed, his
mouth close to my ear.

“Ugh!” I moaned. He held me tightly and I let
loose on him. “Yes, I am! Actually, I’m beyond crazy. I’ve totally
lost my fucking mind, Owen! I’m a basket case. Call the white
coats. Tell them to bring the straightjacket and lock me up in a
padded cell. That’s where I belong!”

He kept his arms around me as I threw my
temper-tantrum. When I calmed down, he set me back on my feet and
stepped around so he could look at me. “Are you done?”

I dropped my face into my hands, pressing the
heels of my palms against my eyes. When the pulsing in my ears
quieted, I sighed and looked at him. “For the moment. I guess.”

He shook his head slowly. “Come on. We need
to get out of here. This is really the worst place you can be,
especially by yourself.”

He led me back to the hotel and waited in the
front room of my suite while I showered, dressed and packed my
laptop and the few items I’d taken out. He apparently wouldn’t
leave me alone.

“I’m going to the beach house,” I said when I
was ready to leave.

He nodded. “It’s better than here.”

“It’s something I need to do alone,
Owen.”

He gave me a kind smile. “I understand. I’ll
get out when we get close. For now, I can make sure no one sees you
leave or follows you there.”

“You can shield
cars
?”

“Yeah, but you need more than a shield. I
have to get you out of here without anyone even seeing you leave
and flashing with you is impossible, so…” He rubbed his hands
against each other, then quickly turned them palm out at me. His
eyes traveled down to my feet and back up again. “There.
Perfect.”

I looked down at myself. As far as I could
tell, nothing had changed. “What?”

He reached out and clumsily grabbed my
shoulders, then led me over to a mirror on the wall. My jaw dropped
with an audible gasp. Owen stood behind me, but the mirror
reflected only him—his whole body, as if nothing obstructed it…as
if I weren’t there.

“I cloaked you,” he said with a big grin.

I smiled with relief, although he couldn’t
see it. I didn’t know how he cloaked me, but it was perfect. The
thought had already occurred to me that I could have led Daemoni
right to our safe place and I’d had no ideas for how to prevent it.
They were apparently aware of my presence and would have followed.
I was grateful Owen had followed me to the Keys.

He picked up all my bags and led me out of
the room and down the hallway. A man and woman stood at the
elevators, holding hands.

“Stay very close so they don’t bump into you
and don’t make a sound,” Owen said, his voice barely a whisper.

As we reached the Ferrari, Owen went to the
front to drop my bags into the cargo space and I naturally went to
the driver’s side door. He walked right into me.

“Ow! What are you doing?” I asked.

“What are
you
doing?” he echoed.

“Uh…getting in the car.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “And what happens if
you pass by a cop and it looks like the car is driving itself?”

“Oh. Right.” I’d already forgotten I was
invisible to everyone else. Owen would have to drive me.

“I’ll stop once we’re out of sight of the
highway,” he promised.

Owen’s plan worked. No one paid any attention
to us, except a few guys who gawked at the car and a couple of
women who smiled warmly at Owen while we sat at a stoplight. My
sense felt they were plain human—not Daemoni. Either the Daemoni
didn’t care about me, didn’t recognize the car or figured Owen was
leaving by himself or just running errands or something. Or maybe
we just got lucky and none were even out when we left. Neither of
us felt anyone following us as we traveled the fifty miles to the
beach house.

“Thank you, Owen,” I said as he made the turn
off the highway. He drove about forty feet, then stopped the car.
From the highway, our little key, which we shared with only four
other homes, was barely noticeable by passing drivers, hidden in
what looked like a wild overgrowth of natural vegetation.

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said.

He waved his hand toward me, presumably to
lift the cloak, but I paid no attention. Instead, I stared down the
sandy road that led to the beach house. A lump started forming in
my throat, growing larger with each heartbeat until I thought it
might suffocate me.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Owen
asked.

I didn’t answer, not able to talk with that
boulder stuck in my throat. I finally nodded.

“I’ll be close,” he said and then he flashed,
disappeared, leaving me alone to my task that would either show me
the way out of my insanity or push me down into the utter blackness
of no return.

I heaved myself out of the car and walked to
the driver’s side on wobbly legs, feeling like one of Dorian’s
toys—the rubbery kind that could be pulled and twisted and bent
into odd shapes. I folded myself into the driver’s seat, took a
deep breath and put the transmission into first gear.

As I turned into the driveway and the house
came into view, grief slammed down on me. I hadn’t been back since
Tristan and I had left together. This was
our
place. I
didn’t want memories here without him. Yet here I was. Completely
alone.

When I stopped the car at the house, I
couldn’t move.

Memories of pulling into the driveway the
first time flooded my vision. The moon provided the only light then
and our conversation had been strained. It was easy to remember—I’d
been so nervous, not about losing my virginity, but about doing it
right for him. The emotion was still clear, but now felt from a
more experienced, older perspective. That was an innocent time, a
time full of joy and love and hope. We’d been looking forward to
years—centuries, even eternity—of being together. And we’d been
given only a couple of weeks.

The sobs finally subsided and I wiped my face
with my hands, staring at the house with trepidation. It still
looked the same, as if frozen in time with the memories it held.
The light gray, metal roof reflected the bright sun and the
blue-gray stucco siding looked like new. The wooden stairs and deck
seemed to have a fresh coat of white paint—they gleamed in the sun,
too. The house hadn’t changed at all.