Consequences (15 page)

“Returning to James’s apartment one last
time, I collected everything I had brought from Colorado, and the
few items I’d purchased since arriving in Vegas. I didn’t want to
take anything with me that wasn’t mine. Then on James’s computer, I
arranged his various anonymous offshore bank accounts, and
transferred them all to Ann’s bank account using the information I
had stolen from her office. Ann had just won the lottery and didn’t
even have to guess at any numbers. I knew there would be heavy
taxes, but that was okay, at least she would have some extra
monetary security for a little while.

“Taking the entire night, I covered every
inch of the penthouse, wiping every surface with bleach. Scrubbing
under the beds, around the toilets, I tried to meticulously destroy
all traces of Lune’s and my existence. I knew I’d already taken
care of our link to James’s family, and for the first time I was
actually glad for what had happened that night at the hotel … not
only for me, but also for Ann. After loading my car with my
belongings, I did a quick walk-though to make sure I wasn’t going
to leave anything behind. Just one more thing and I could
completely wipe away Christopher Ross from existence.

“I found all of my legitimate identification
and drove to my bank, where I cashed out every bit of money I had,
totaling about thirty-two thousand dollars. Then I found a dark
alley and burned everything and anything that was tied to me … to
my given name, including the Jefferson County library card that I’d
had since I was ten years old. When I crawled back into my car, I
opened the manila envelope that Ann had given me two weeks earlier,
on James’s orders. That is when I found out my new identity. I
looked down at my picture on impeccable, false identification:
driver's license, passport, birth certificate, and credit cards. I
started shaking my head, the knots in my stomach tightening more
painfully … James had come to my rescue once again with contacts
and the fifty thousand dollars to pay for my new identity; all so I
could recreate myself.

“I was now Christopher Roderick, but that
knowledge didn’t ease my mind. Whoever wished for, and thought they
could actually experience a ‘fresh start’, never lived enough to
understand … there is no such thing.” Christopher finishes with a
shake of his head, a motion that speaks to his past naivety over
the power of mental burdens.

I am trying to let all this information sink
in, but failing miserably… “Thirty thousand dollars didn’t buy you
this cabin.”

“No, no it didn’t. That would be Ann’s doing.
She split James’s money between us.” I am in wonder at Ann’s
generosity and kindness; forgiving Christopher … I wouldn’t have,
if I were in her shoes.

“How much money do you have?” I feel rude for
asking, but given the story I just heard, my manners are
nonexistent.

“In cash … I have around six million. I
deposited the thirty thousand from my old bank account, and pay
taxes on that, just like everyone else. No red flags … no one is
the wiser.”

“No red flags? You’re covered in red
flags!”

“No, I’m not … you see them because you’ve
actually watched me personally … but on paper, I’m nothing special.
Why do you think Lune and I are here … why we choose to live as
hermits?”

I have to agree grudgingly, and I know I will
have to stomach the consequences of keeping all of his illegal
secrets. Deciding to side with ignorance, I don’t ask any more
questions about the money or how he acquired his identity.
Surprising even myself, I have to admit that I am obviously
accepting what he told me, and I am willing to continue covering
for him … but I have to know two more things.

“Is Ann all right?” I don’t know why I’ve
become attached to this stranger, but her wellbeing has become
extremely important to me.

“Yes, she is okay. She says, in many ways she
feels better than she has since her parents’ death … when James and
V entered her life. Thanks to my insight though, I know that a very
large part of her pride will never be the same again … because of
my betrayal. She says she forgives me, and she honestly believes
that she has … but I hurt her deeply, and I will spend the rest of
my life making it up to her.”

My heart quickens as I ask the next question,
not knowing if I am ready for the answer. “You know as well as I do
that V will be coming for you … what can we do to prepare for his
attack?”

**~~**

**~~**

I’ve never felt warmth like this … the
granules of sand pressed between my toes, warms my feet, and the
heat radiates up my legs. Everything has changed; those precious
twenty-four hours I spent solid and touchable with Christopher
changed me.

I can’t believe that just three nights ago, I
was able to see him after all this time apart. At least, I think it
was him; now that I think about it that wouldn’t be the first time
my imagination created him for me to hold. This time was different
though, I could feel him, actually smell him, and he had a dog with
him that certainly was not Lune. She was beautiful, pure white with
eyes that held unimaginable wisdom. Strangely, I think she was the
one who called me back to Gothic. I’ve seen so many unexplainable
things since I left Christopher; I’m just not sure that I wasn’t
dreaming, but I’m grateful for the memory.

I have to smile at my memories of the past
nine months: Japan, India, and Africa, traveling, finding more …
like me. Most of the creatures were benign --deciding not to
interfere with humanity. Many were good people once, but grew too
tired of humanity's self-destructive nature to interact anymore.
The ones that do interact are mischievous … some good, some bad …
mostly all very strange.

Imagine my astonishment to find that I was
the only one they’d heard of, in a very long time, passing entirely
through the veils between the realms. Everyone thought I was insane
when I asked how it was possible. They laughed at my innocence when
I told them, “Someone had answered my prayers, and allowed me to
hold Christopher.”

Virtually all of the creatures I met laughed,
except for a select few insightful ones, such as Cassandra. As
withdrawn and ancient as she is, she never turned away from me,
never ridiculed me. Cassandra took me on as her student; she became
my mentor, and my friend. Christopher would be pleased to know that
I am working with her … learning from her.

I can feel the sun’s last rays as it sets. I
look out over the sea, and the sun’s farewell kiss has lit the sky
on fire. So much has changed, especially now that I am starting to
understand what I am.

“Ellie, just because you can leave footprints
in the sand, doesn’t mean you should. One of these days, you’re
going to attract unwanted attention from all the wrong people.”
Listening to Cassandra’s thick Greek accent always makes me smile,
but not today; the frustration of her not telling me who the 'wrong
people' are, is grating on my nerves.

“Cassandra, how long since the last time you
had someone to talk to regularly?” I know asking her certain
questions, only brings back awful feelings, but her secretive
nature is making me bad-tempered.

In the 2,800 years since Homer wrote of the
terrible turns in her life, and death, Cassandra has spent most of
her time trying to understand that her powers of perception have
nothing to do with a god. She dutifully watched others discover
their “talents”, and with her observations came the realization
that she wasn’t actually insane.

The emotions, which bubble up in response to
my question, leave my brain feeling woozy, and a taste develops in
the back of my throat … acidic and sour. Cassandra has the most
powerful mind I’ve ever felt, intimidating and at times cruel; she
can pick and choose the information I’m allowed to perceive.

The calm that I feel, when she tunes me out,
has given me the opportunity to finally rest my frayed senses. But,
over the past three months, the silence … after so many years of
emotional, noisy clatter has left me lonelier than ever before. Who
knew I’d miss feeling everything others felt, and hearing their
thoughts echoing in my head, slamming my spine with gut-wrenching,
volatile emotions.

Alone, I never realized that my sensitivity
to others has always been as much a crutch, as a curse. Now, in the
calm, I find Christopher -- breaking my heart and twisting my
innards. My longing for him is crippling me.

Cassandra always says my feelings for 'that
boy' are a weakness that will be used against me someday. She
chastises me every time I mention him, especially telling me not to
talk about what I accomplished to be with him: making myself real.
She really hates the fact that I’m in love with a mortal man, the
“Mortos” as she calls the living, “He can never truly love a Ho
Thanatos." She constantly refers to us as Ho Thanatos, meaning
‘death that cannot die’. I’ve tried to explain my theory that we
are “living” … just in another plane of consciousness from the
humans around us. She won’t listen, always mumbling something about
magic and curses. And usually, before disappearing for days at a
time, she’ll curse men for existing in any plane of
consciousness.

Cassandra isn’t mumbling this time, nor
walking away; she just stands next to me… fuming. “You’ve been
reaching out again, touching the Mortos' minds again.” This isn’t a
question; it is a statement that brings up images of death …
gnarled and burned, the images that remind me of when London fell
during the Blitz. Burning flesh, the corroding taste of consumed
emotions, hitting me in the chest; I see the demise of my human
family.

Dropping to my knees, I dig my fingers into
the sand, praying that its vanishing warmth will drag me back to
reality, drag me back to life. “Why are you punishing me? I help
people. I love to interact and support people.”

The sensation eases as Cassandra speaks,
“You’ve already drawn too much attention … they will feel your mind
searching. She will feel your mind searching. I cannot help you if
you do not listen! You have to stop reaching out with your
mind.”

“But, I’m so lonely … I miss connecting.”

“You don’t miss humans! You miss the
sensation of living … but existing vicariously through Mortos, is
not living. Why can’t you wrap your little head around that? You
are not Mortos any longer … you are Ho Thanatos now! We are
completely different creatures from them. Are you willing to perish
for people who will never acknowledge your kindness or compassion?”
She spits the last words at me, and yet, still won’t give me even
the slightest clue as to who sparked such fear in her soul.

“I’m sorry, Cass … I promise not to do it
again. But please, won’t you tell me why, or who, I’m supposed to
be so bloody suspicious?”

“No, Ellie, you’re not ready. You can’t
control your temptations, or ego … they will find you, and that
will be the death of us both.”

Her tone softens, and the images in my mind
all but disappear. “Imagine you are a fish that can talk, and when
you’re on land, you can even walk. Now imagine that, since you are
in both worlds of sea and land … the fish can find you, and man can
find you. What if there are those in your sea environment, those
that see you as a threat … possibly giving away their precious
secrets? And what would some men want to do to you … a walking,
talking fish? You have to be careful, Ellie, whatever you think
your existence means … you are powerful, and there are those in
both worlds that want to hurt you."

For the first time in our relationship she
reaches out and takes my hand, lifting me off of my knees; the rush
of emotions that are expressed in our touch is under incredible
control, but I can feel Cassandra's compassion and consideration
filling the cells in my brain. “I don’t punish you, Ellie … I just
give you glimpses of the premonitions I’ve watched come to fruition
over the years. My ‘talent’ and yours are very much alike; I feel
as much as see the events that will take place … that have already
taken place. I’m not punishing you; I’m just showing you my world,
in hopes that you will listen to me when I tell you something … no
questions asked.”

The realization of her pain, dealing with the
vicious cruelty of humanity, watching as the Mortos learn newer and
more efficient ways of torturing one another … almost three
thousand years of watching, sensing, knowing what will happen. My
respect grows for her in ways I never expected; more than anything
I am in awe that she is still sane.

“I never realized, what you were showing me
were events that you had watched come to pass. Christopher would
have seen the amazing quality of the images you show; I am ashamed
that I didn’t realize how personal and important what you were
showing me was.” So much needs to be said, but I am at a loss. So I
turn back into her humble student, hoping to show her that I am
ready to listen.

“Ha! That Mortos boy is no more powerful than
you … you are capable of so much more than either of us understands
right now. First though, you need to learn how to block your
emotions from other “readers” and in turn you will need to learn
how to control your mind. Besides the fact that it’s very rude to
walk around in someone else’s feelings without permission, you
leave a trail back to yourself when you reach out. I can see it,
you know, faint lights in my peripheral vision, bright-green trails
like snakes leading straight back to where you’re standing. Your
range is impressive; I followed one of your marks out at least 40
kilometers before it started to fade just slightly. The more you
mature the more powerful you will become, but it is a necessity
that you learn defenses first.”