Secret Worlds (177 page)

Maybe it is.

August 16th, 1993

Is it possible to find light in the darkness?

August 17th, 1993

For the first time since I’ve been here, I was allowed to go outside. I had forgotten about the wind and how it feels in my hair and on my cheeks. I actually cried. Shameful. Andrew was the one who convinced them to let me have some fresh air. We were only allowed out for ten minutes, but that time alone made the shackles feel loose, almost nonexistent. Maybe this kind of serenity means my time here is drawing to a close. I do not know. What I do know is something inside me has changed, and not because of my imprisonment here. It is because of Andrew.

He gave me a rose today. I want to blame my happiness about this fact on the isolation and the desperation I’ve experienced in this little slice of Hell, but when he held my hand for that brief moment, I knew I had found myself again. Holding his hand reminded me of my former husband, Lewis, before he became a bastard, when we were young and in love. God help me. I am not capable of love. Or at least I thought I wasn’t. It would be better for me to forget. I cannot.

He calls me Cat.

I wish I didn’t love that about him.

August 18th, 1993

Something is wrong.

I believe that the demons are going to make a move soon. Today, they claimed that my behavior implicated signs of suicidal tendencies and so they placed a security guard in my room for ‘safety reasons.’ Furthermore, I did not have a session with Andrew today. They told me he had other arrangements. I cannot remember ever feeling so afraid. All I can think about is whether they have caught on to him and hurt him, or worse. I cannot escape by myself to look for him.

However, there was one ray of hope. When the men came in for my daily examination, they gave me a glass-less picture frame they said was from Andrew as part of my therapy—a photo that had been confiscated from my wallet. It was my senior portrait from high school. It seemed only for sentimental reasons, but just after they left I found a scrap of paper hidden behind the frame. I waited until nightfall when the guard left for a brief break and read it in the moonlight. There was no name, only a poem. It took me a moment to recognize it as W.H. Auden’s “Song IX.” I used to read his poems when I was learning English.

I do not know if this is a warning or a confession, but I know it is important and so I have kept it close by. I believe that whatever reason they have chosen to abduct me for is going to come to fruition tonight. I cannot explain why. It is just a feeling in my gut.

There is nothing left to do except wait. If this is my last entry, then so be it. I have led a good life. I have seen many wonders. I have laughed. I have cried. I have loved. I have…lived. Our Father gave us no greater privilege than that.

Catalina Amador

It took me a moment to realize that the car had stopped because we arrived at the hotel. My mind had been completely engrossed as I read the letters out loud. Silence filled the car, seeming to highlight the stillness that had come over me when I read the last one.

Then, slowly, Michael unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned across, brushing his fingertips against my left cheek where hot tears had trickled down my face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I am so sorry, Jordan.”

A faint smile touched my lips as I lowered the diary into my lap. “Why? It wasn’t your fault.”

“If I had been there…maybe I could have prevented this…”

I shook my head, wiping my eyes. “We could sit here all day talking about what we would have done if we had been there. The past is the past. There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” His voice held such regret that I wondered if the letters had upset him more than me. I closed the diary and touched his hand, finally looking into his concerned face.

“Michael…it’s okay. All I wanted on this trip was to find the answers for myself. I’ve done that. It’s not pretty, but it’s what I needed.”

He wrapped his fingers around mine, strong and warm, and nodded. “Okay.”

After giving my hand one last squeeze, he opened the car door to get out. I unbuckled the seat and climbed out, gathering the picture frame, diary, and papers I’d gotten from the psychiatric hospital.

I needed something else to think about, and soon. There was so much information to absorb. Upon glancing at my watch, I realized I only had a short while before my…
meeting
with Terrell. That did the trick alright. The mere thought of which made my pulse double and my palms start to dampen. Damn him.

We went back to our room, which was considerably chilly due to our absence, and Michael sat on the bed while I stared intently at my suitcase and wondered if I should change clothes. I mean, it wasn’t a date. No way in hell. So I shouldn’t change. Or should I? I thought about calling Lauren to ask—since she was the only female presence in my life who knew things about men—but decided against it. It was a one-time occurrence, no need to change. Right?

“Are you okay?” Michael’s mildly amused voice broke through my thoughts, making me jump a little.

“Hm?” I said.

He glanced at the suitcase. “You’re been standing there for almost a minute with the weirdest looks on your face.”

I cleared my throat and zipped the suitcase closed, trying to seem nonchalant. “It’s nothing.”

“Right.” Michael reached down on the other side of his bed and withdrew his acoustic guitar—a gorgeous wooden one with a brilliant polish to it. He practiced three or four hours a day, and our trip was no exception. I stood in front of the mirror applying a bit more eyeliner while he began plucking at the strings and adjusting things accordingly.

“How long do you think you’ll be out?” I caught on to his casual tone. He was trying way too hard not to sound interested. It was kind of adorable, in a way.

I hid a smile, picking up my comb. “A couple hours.”

“Want me to order something?”

“Just for you. We’re getting Chinese.”

“Oh. Bring me back a Fortune cookie.”

I paused, glancing at him. “You’re an angel. Do you really believe in those things?”

Michael smirked. “Who says I believe in them? Maybe I just want to read the messages and add ‘in bed’ to the end of them.”

I dropped my comb. He chuckled. I tossed him a dirty look and checked one more time to make sure my hair looked presentable before walking to the bed to get my duster. By now, I had started to recognize the melody he was recreating—a tune I’d heard on an old Guy Ritchie film. “Golden Brown” by the Stranglers. Good song.

“Call me if something comes up,” I said, my hand on the doorknob.

He nodded, watching me with a rather guarded look.

“I’ll be here.”

Earlier during the day, I had looked up the restaurant to find it only about two blocks away, so there was no need to ask Michael to drive me. Besides, he already seemed displeased with my agreement to go—though he just wouldn’t admit it—and I didn’t want to put him in that position. I wasn’t sure if his disapproval was a result of being protective, or if it was something more personal. Frankly, I didn’t want to entertain either thought, so I walked down the street, careful to make sure I hadn’t been followed by anyone dead or alive, until I reached the Dynasty.

The Chinese restaurant was tucked between a barbershop and a Subway and the inside was dim but with a quiet atmosphere. There were beautiful paintings on the walls of emperors and warriors and miniature chandeliers hanging above each table. The tables themselves were covered in forest green cloth that went well with the dark carpet. There was a short line at the front so I had to wait. Terrell was waiting for me at the center table. He smiled and waved when he saw me. My pulse skyrocketed. This was such a bad idea.

“Table for one?” the maitre’d asked, catching my attention.

I shook my head, pointing. “I see my party, it’s fine.”

He smiled. “Enjoy your date, ma’am.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “It’s not a date.”

He raised his eyebrows at the sudden hostility. I muttered an apology before I walked to the table. Terrell offered to pull my chair out but I declined, scooting up to the table on my own.

“You’re early,” I pointed out, having nothing better to say.

Terrell shrugged. “I had nothing better to do and I was honestly looking forward to this.”

I felt my suspicion rising. “Why? Last time I checked, people usually aren’t eager to see their ex-girlfriends unless it’s for lascivious purposes.”

He chuckled, sending a shiver down my spine. Damn that laugh of his. It was like having someone trace a finger down my back. He could advertise Old Spice commercials with that voice if he wanted to. “Lascivious? You’ve been reading, haven’t you?”

“Guilty as charged.”

The waitress came by and asked what I’d like to drink. I ordered tea and flipped open my menu, happy to find an excuse not to look at Terrell any more. The food was pretty standard for a Chinese restaurant. I always ordered the same thing anyway.

“Would you like to order your food now or do you need more time?”

I glanced at Terrell, who shook his head. “I’m ready if you are.”

“General Tso’s chicken, shrimp fried rice for the side, and Moo Goo Gai Pan,” I answered, handing her the menu. Terrell gave his order as well, the same thing he always got even when we were dating—orange chicken and rice.

“I see your tastes haven’t changed over the years,” he said, dark brown eyes glittering in the dim lights.

I squirmed in my seat, resisting the urge to plunge my hand into my duster pocket to touch the rosary. It had become a nervous habit of mine.

“Guess not.” Silence fell. Awkward R’ Us.

“You look good, Jor.” His tone softened, not so teasing this time around.

I felt my cheeks filling with heat. “Thanks. You too.”

“And here I was thinking you didn’t notice,” he replied, grinning.

I finally felt comfortable enough to glare at him. His grin only widened.

“And there’s that infamous glare. Still as scary as the last time I saw it.”

“Thanks, I’ve been working on it.” For the love of God, where was the food? I needed to stuff something in my mouth before I said something even stupider. Thankfully, she came back soon with the steaming piles of chicken and vegetables, though by now my stomach had turned into too many knots to truly enjoy the meal. He chose chopsticks while I stuck with a fork. Didn’t have much practice with them as of yet.

“I don’t get it.”

Terrell glanced upward from his chopsticks, one thick eyebrow raised.

I shifted in my seat, spearing a steaming hot mushroom on my fork before continuing. “Why…are you being so nice to me? We didn’t exactly leave on pleasant terms.”

He didn’t answer right away. He set down his chopsticks and folded his hands on the table like he used to when he had something serious to say. Seeing his old habits, his body movements, felt surreal, like slowly remembering the lines to a movie you’ve seen a hundred times.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about what happened,” Terrell said finally.

“At first, I blamed it all on you. The way you shut me out…it made me feel like we’d never really known each other and like you didn’t respect me enough to tell me what was wrong.”

His words made me wince because I knew everything he said was true. To him, I’m sure that I came across as a heartless bitch, especially since it had seemed to come from out of nowhere. In all honesty, it had. With Mr. N dead and my transformation into a Seer complete, I destroyed any remaining links to my old life. Unfortunately, Terrell had been part of the destruction.

“But as time went on, I realized that there were some things I could have done better. After you left, I didn’t go after you. I could have tried harder to help you but I didn’t because I was still angry. Seeing you again like this…it’s got to be for a purpose.”

I shook my head. “Not everything is like that, Terrell.”

“Everything has its place, Jordan. You might be too afraid to admit it, but you know it’s true.”

At last, I met his eyes. His held a certain conviction in them. My poor little idealist. He’d never change.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” I replied, my tone stiff and defensive even to my own ears. A small smile tugged at the edge of his lips.

“Why didn’t you dress up tonight?”

“Why would I? This isn’t a date.”

“So a man and a woman who were once romantically interested in each other go to a restaurant to have dinner…and it’s not a date?”

I cleared my throat, feeling a wave of heat rise to my cheeks. “Exactly.”

Terrell shook his head. “That’s what I’m talking about. You won’t admit this is a date, or at least similar to a date, because you don’t want to think about me that way.”

“What way?”

The amused look on his face caved in to a more serious expression—one that made my stomach flop. “You know I didn’t ask you out just to catch up.”

I glanced away. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He sighed. “Fine. I get it. It’s not like I expected you to leap into my arms or something. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t believe in coincidences. There’s no way that we’d be in the same city at the same time in the same park if it wasn’t for a reason. Forgive me if I’m an idiot for trying to make something of it.”

Terrell lifted his right hand to signal the waiter. Guilt gnawed at my gut and I reached out, touching his left hand still resting on the table. “Wait.”

He hesitated, giving me a considerate look. I exhaled. “I’m not trying to run you off. It’s just…weird. I don’t like thinking about what happened between us. It took me a while to stop worrying about you. I’m sorry.”

Slowly, he smiled again and flipped his hand over so our fingers were intertwined. “Then, if you don’t mind, why don’t we just be honest and get through the weirdness together?”

That made me chuckle. “You always did have a way with words.”

“Thanks for remembering.”

“My pleasure.” He squeezed my fingers and let go, returning to his orange chicken. Feeling a tad more comfortable, I ate the stray mushroom on my plate.