The Stars Trilogy (93 page)

He took her hand and squeezed it. “Don’t be scared. I’ll take care of you, kid.” He winked at her.

She got into the cab. He sat beside her.

He placed the safety bar in place and secured them.

They waited for the ride to start.

Her teeth were chattering in fright now. “I don’t think I can…”

Dare took her hand and squeezed it again. “Hold onto my hand.”

She stared at him. His eyes were so blue. A pair of smoldering blue flames.

Mesmerizing. Overpowering her fear.

“Don’t let me go,” she pleaded to him weakly.

He touched her cheek gently. “Never, baby. Don’t be scared. I’m here.”

His words, uttered so softly had a calming effect on her. Her heart and tummy settled a bit. She squeezed his hand tighter, her nails biting on his skin.

The train started to move. “Oh my God…” she uttered breathlessly. Her tummy resumed flip-flopping.

“Here we go. Ready?”

She nodded and closed her eyes.

The coaster crawled higher...higher still. Her throat constricted, her stomach going queasy.

Then came his soft, soothing voice. It entered her consciousness like a gust of fresh air into her lungs.

“Remember, remember, the Fifth of November...The Gunpowder Treason and Plot... I know of no reason... Why the gunpowder treason...Should ever be forgot.”

His baritone voice blended with the soft wind and she inhaled it. All of it. She didn’t understand what he was saying, only that his voice comforted her like a cloak against imminent danger, each honeyed words bathing her fears away.

“Allow me first to apologize for this interruption. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of every day routine — the security of the familiar, the tranquility of repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration, thereby those important events of the past usually associated with someone’s death or the end of some awful bloody struggle, a celebration of a nice holiday, I thought we could mark this November the 5th, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat.”

She smiled, fascinated. He was talking in riddles, as if he was reciting from a book. His tone was very poetic and he suddenly had a funny accent.

“There are of course those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn’t there?”

“What’s wrong?” she asked him in a whisper. She could see nothing but endless sky now and the wind on her face reminded her that she was above ground now, way above...and she could fall.

To her death.

But she was no longer afraid.

“Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have sensors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who’s to blame? Well, certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you’re looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror.”

“Yes. I can see my face in your eyes. They’re so clear, like a blue mirror. I look awful.”

“Why is that, sweetheart?”

“Because I’m a coward. I’m always afraid. I can’t do things on my own. Unlike my cousin Shavonne. She’s so brave. She loves adventure.”

He touched her face gently. “No, you’re not so bad. See? You’re about to have an adventure.”

She smiled. Indeed, this was an adventure!

“I know you were afraid. Who wouldn’t be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic you turned...to the person whom you thought was your savior. He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent.”

His dramatic monologue continued like a soothing balm to her senses. She could see the people on the ground moving like ants here and there...the flowers in myriad colours...in full bloom...alive! She was vibrating with life inside...but she felt weightless as the wind around her...and the man beside her was still a stranger uttering mysterious words in her ear and yet they’d never felt more familiar.

“Last night I sought to end that silence. Last night I destroyed the Old Bailey, to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago a great citizen wished to embed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words; they are perspectives. So if you’ve seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you, then I would suggest you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever be forgot.”

Stillness.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

But her eyes were open, weren’t they?

No, they were not.

And then she could see! Her eyes were open now and she realized that she saw everything in her mind, the people, the flowers, the sky. His words silenced her fears...no, not his words...but his voice, his precious voice that whispered to her like an angel.

They were climbing so high and higher still.

She buried her face in his chest. “I can’t…! I’m scared!”

“Hey, hey, look at me. Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

His gentle voice made her follow his bidding. She opened her eyes again and met his stare. Such beautiful, magical eyes that seemed to promise a thousand adventures.

“What’s your name?”

“C-Celine…”

“Celine…such a lovely name. Do you trust me, Celine?”

In that moment, she had no one else to trust but him. She nodded.

He smiled. “Trust me, I’ll take care of you. I won’t let you fall. I will be with you, all the way, till the end. I promise.”

Just as he finished talking, the coaster swooped down.

Down...down...down!

She screamed at the top of her lungs.

He laughed.

She screamed and screamed and he held her hand, his other arm around her shoulders, holding her protectively as the coaster carried them on a wild ride that took her breath away over and over.

And then she was no longer screaming but laughing, squealing in delight and exhilaration.

“Ohhhh my Goooood, I’m flyiiiing!!!”

“You having a great time, Celine?!”

“Yeeeeeesss!!! Ohhhh my Goooood!!!”

The sound of his laughter reverberated in her ears along with the screams of their fellow passengers.

She spread her arms in the air, feeling fearless now like the wild wind. “This is the greatest day of my life! Thank you, Dare Montgomery!”

“You’re welcome, Celine, who doesn’t talk to strangers!”

When the ride was finally over, they were still both laughing as they disembarked from the coaster. She couldn’t stop gushing about her one of a kind experience.

“Can we do it again? Can we, please, please, please?!”

He grinned and shook his head. “And she easily gets the hang of it.”

“We’re going home tomorrow,” she blurted with regret.

“Where?”

“Philippines.”

“I see.” He was thoughtful for a moment. Then he removed his necklace from his neck and gave it to her. “Here, take this.”

She was fascinated by the pendant dangling from the necklace made of leather string. “What is it?”

“That’s my amulet. The phoenix. When you look at it, you’ll remember me, the guy who taught you how to fly.”

She smiled at him, eyes shining. “Thank you so much. I will never forget you.”

Just then, a drop of water landed on her nose. And then on her eyes and cheeks. “It’s raining!” she gasped.

He looked up in the sky for a few seconds, then uttered softly, “God is in the rain.”

They both ran to a nearby shed.

“Celine!”

That was definitely her mother’s angry voice coming somewhere from the crowd.

“Guess, your folks finally found you,” Dare said.

She wished they hadn’t yet. She wanted to spend more time with him.

He touched her cheek gently. Using that funny accent again, he spoke softly, his voice low and clear amid the noise around them, but she heard every word. “Take care, little girl. Remember this fifth of November, I’m Dare, in your memories forever.” He winked at her and disappeared in the crowd.

She ran toward her parents who were rushing toward her, too.

“My God, Celine, we’ve been looking all over for you!” her mother reprimanded her immediately.

“I told you to stay close to us. Where did you go?” her father demanded.

“You need to be leashed, little sister,” said her brother Jordan in a pissed off tone. “We were going to tell the police.”

She smiled at them sweetly. “I love you, Mom, Dad,
Kuya
! This is the best vacation ever! I’m sooo happy!”

“Brat,” her brother uttered in exasperation.

Their parents sighed, looked at each other and then shook their heads in resignation. She knew they won’t be mad for long. She always got her way.

“Want some ice cream, princess?”

She beamed at her father. “Yes, Daddy!”

“Okay, let’s find an ice cream kiosk around here.”

As they walked away from the Cyclone, she looked back, scanning the crowd.

She saw Dare standing near a railing, looking at her. She waved at him. He waved back. And then he was gone.

Her fingers tightened on his necklace.

It was the fifth of November, the day that changed her life forever.

Also By Eve Montelibano

HOD-THE LOTHARIO SAGA (Series)

Nico

Jonty

Kit

Jaq

Desiring Drew

RICH & FAMOUS SERIES

Mine To Take

Dare To Love

TO DIE FOR Men of Valor Series

Raven

Dax

About the Author

THE AUTHOR

Eve Montelibano is an Interior Designer and a hopeless romantic. That said, she couldn't be blamed for the amount of cheese and cream you'll find in her books. She loves to write about jaded, super alpha heroes and spunky, sassy heroines, and enjoys putting them in a lot of sticky, steamy, sweaty situations. Definitely not for the fainthearted.
Her favorite authors are Jackie Collins (modern fiction) and Robert Greene (Philosophy). Her major inspiration in romance writing are Brenda Joyce, Linda Howard, Sandra Brown, Judith McNaught, Susan Johnson, Penelope Williamson, to name a few.

Connect with her on Facebook and Goodreads.

INSPIRATIONS

I have to mention my major inspirations in creating this love story

V for Vendetta comic book by Alan Moore and the movie version by the Wachowski Brothers; the lines from these masterpieces are simply magnificent.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s; will never grow old.

EL James and Fifty Shades of Grey; the door has not merely been opened. It was smashed to smithereens for good by the most talked about hero of modern day romance named Christian Grey. Erotica and all its variety are now mainstream. All thanks to you, EL.

Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan; epic read!