Hadrian's Wall (59 page)

That’s it!
Finally, I’d found the answer! The illustrations
would have an ancient, gloomy atmosphere, perhaps shaded by
charcoal or pencil (I still had not decided on that); but on the
other hand, there would be bold, volatile, colorful details in the
counterpart. Behold the communion between the ancient and modern,
like everything that was related to Hadrian’s Wall. My artistic
sensibility was strongly influenced by the contradictory context
that surrounded me.

Although I felt a little calmer, I was
itching to get started on the sketches. I’d do a lot of
sketches—either for practice or as drafts to be reviewed and
considered. I still wanted to do some studies of shading, as I’d
done in the past. No telling where it could take me now.

Who knows?
Turning mistakes into successes…

I yawned. I was so tired I could fall asleep
on the paper in front of me. Before I did anything, I needed to buy
the appropriate materials.

I bit my lower lip, looking askance at the
codex. Again I flipped through it looking for an illustration on
which I could base my study, but there were none. There were a few
symbols that I immediately recognized—the same symbol adorning the
bracelets worn by Rita and her boss, Ms. Newton, as well as the one
on Adrian’s ring and...

Oh my God!

The next picture was an exact reproduction
of my birthmark! The caption read: “Promise of beginning and
end.”

I closed the diary a little more forcefully
than necessary. I stared in horror at my birthmark as if it were a
venomous creature. Something that I’d had all my life suddenly
seemed strange and uncomfortable to me. Asia Chadwick was right.
The format was too perfect to be natural.

Is my birthmark a symbol?

I felt a chill, then another and another
until my whole body began to tremble as if I had been seized by a
tropical fever. Chills raced down my spine and my muscles
contracted, causing pain everywhere in my body. I knew the cold
that plagued me had nothing to do with the weather. Finally, the
shock of recent events began to affect me.

What a big coward you are,
girl! When will you stop hiding your head in the sand like an
ostrich?
A nagging voice reverberated in my
mind.
Maybe a hot bath would calm your
nerves,
said another voice, more
diplomatic, as if trying to appease the other.
That’s right! Like in Psycho,
quickly
came the scathing reply.

Right now, I looked like an
unfinished version of
Dr. Jekyll and Mr.
Hyde
. If Dr. Barringer could see me now,
he’d probably put me in the psych ward.

Oh, I have no
doubt!
The two voices finally
agreed.

* * *

Could a bath keep me away from puzzles I
cannot solve? Could it get my mind off of the crazy, emotional
story I had just read?

The answer is no!

I couldn’t calm down. I
grabbed my stuff and headed into the silent hallway. It’s hard to
believe that this same corridor was seething with people just a few
hours ago. As I made my way past closed doors, I tried to remember
Delilah’s directions: “Pass the second door”... “Turn at the second
hallway”... “A sign out front”... Following her directions right to
the letter, I found it.
I pushed the heavy
handle of the shutter doors and fumbled to find the light switch.
When the lights came on, I was surprised to see a very large room
which resembled the women’s locker room of my high school gym, but
this was far more luxurious. It was partitioned along its entire
length with louvered doors painted bright red. The floors were
decorated with ceramic tiles with a beautiful, intricate design
that I thought was Greco-Roman. On my left was a row of toilets
inside stalls with louvered doors. On my right were the showers
stalls.

Across the room was a long marble counter
with round sinks of white and gold faucets. Above the counter was a
huge mirror covering the entire wall up to the ceiling, just below
the top-hung windows.

Unoccupied, the room seemed ghostly,
although I assumed it was not so quiet during the week. At least
now I could enjoy some much-needed solitude...that is if I could
really trust Stephen’s word that he wouldn’t spy on me.

Nestled between the shower stalls was a
large closet and beside it another louvered door, wider than the
others. Curious, I walked through it, hearing the bathroom door
behind me swing closed.

A cool night breeze
fluttered my hair. Looking up, I noticed that it came through the
open top-hung windows. I shuddered, but I didn’t stop until
I
reached the
large door. I pulled it open what I saw left me
flabbergasted—a huge spa, with many jets.

Well, well! I pursed my
lips.
What did you expect, girl? Delilah’s
coffin?
I shook my head at my ridiculous
thoughts.
Here I am, imagining a scene of
horror in a spotlessly clean, well-lighted bathroom.

Automatically, I turned my
attention to the cupboard beside the spa where I found stacks of
soft, fluffy towels, soap, and small bottles of shampoo...
probably
for unprepared
girls like me.
I was amazed.

I selected
a towel from the stack and tore open the soap
package. Its delicate fragrance enveloped me. Ah yes, the bath idea
was becoming attractive. A thought suddenly occurred to me:
Why not using the spa?
But as quickly as it came, the suggestion was refuted by my
grumpy voices of reason. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to deal
with the control buttons. Resigned, I went straight to the
shower.

The water from the showerhead came out
strong and hot, hitting my face. I jumped back and then grabbed the
lever to regulate the flow. When I turned back, I let out a sigh of
satisfaction. I stayed in that position for a long time with the
water massaging my neck, relaxing the tense muscles of my back. I
leisurely lathered my body, thinking vaguely about all the events
that had turned my life upside down.

Basically, I wanted to
believe that I wasn’t crazy, that something extraordinary was
happening. I felt that my life could be changing forever, but every
time I tried to analyze the situation, it was as if my brain was
crashing. Perhaps that was a defense mechanism, but the fact is
that several obscure hypotheses were orbiting inside my brain and
when I brought them into the light of reality, my reason cried,
“This is not possible!” I dreaded seeing my sanity destroyed
forever.

I began to remember the details...things
that I had filed away in a “restricted area” of my brain were now
simply overflowing in the form of flashes, flaring out in
succession as if charging me to pay attention: Dr. Barringer
referring to humans as if he were not human, making enigmatic
comments and directing my research as if preparing me for some
bombastic revelation; his red bottle that I was not permitted to
touch; the gloves, the glasses, eyes that change color everywhere I
look; the giant panther in South Portland; Stone panthers in this
town; every firstborn Cahill receiving the same first name;
conversations full of strange double meanings...

Oh sure, I could not
forget the electromagnetic waves
. Now I
knew the word I should use to describe the shocks radiating
mysteriously off their bodies and because of that, they wear
gloves. Their bodies are strong, perfect, hard as rocks, but as
light and flexible as the purest steel—impenetrable, but
malleable.

The odd eyes... It’s
impossible to look at them for a long time. If they are disturbed
by strong emotions, those eyes blaze and change color. Using my
powers of observation, I have learned what such changes mean.
Whenever they’re angry or determined to achieve something, their
eyes become incredibly yellow. When they’re suffering, or thrilled,
their eyes becoming dark like silex.

Adrian is different than
the others. It’s something I still cannot understand because he
controls himself when he is close to me. However, more than
once
when he changed his voice... a deep
sounded voice with a metal echo.
I saw
that not only did his eyes change color, they became strangely
orange, like molten lava...and every time that happened, I felt an
inexplicable malaise.

My guess is that this
“orange trait” was Adrian’s way of expressing his sovereignty or
supremacy over the rest of his...specie. Like a peacock displaying
his tail that is more fabulous than the others. No, that’s not a
good example. Maybe the lion when he’s roaring louder than the
others—the “alpha male.”

Yeah, it’s ridiculous! I
know that,
but somehow he is different
from other “pale-faces.”

The little shocks also
revealed to me unexplained aspects of the strange electromagnetism
that their skin always was irradiating. After I got used to it, I
began to analyze these sensations. For example, the waves emitted
by cold skin are inexplicably hot. I’ve been searching the Internet
and found nothing about it. The texts merely confirm that the human
body radiates energy like everything else in the universe...and
that energy affects the environment and living beings according its
propagation.

If the human body
irradiates electromagnetic waves at low frequency, it is loaded by
cells full of atoms, and consequently, by electrons, and if
electrons emanate heat, the question is, how can their bodies could
be so cold while radiating hot vibrations? It’s a mystery I don’t
understand, nor can the laws of physics explain it. It would call
attention to the subject if I started asking scientists and
teachers about it, and I can’t do that. “Stealth” became my slogan.
This was yet another case pending resolution in my personal
X-Files.

The fact is that Adrian had
healed my aching muscles by simply touching me with his hands and I
may never find out how he did it. I could only make assumptions
based on the concepts available on the Internet and according to
them, magnetism acts on the human body, creating a type of power—a
kind of electromagnetic induction capable of activating blood
circulation and promoting oxygenation of the cells. This also would
work for the nerves, aiding in tissue regeneration, the elimination
of muscle pain, etc., etc., etc!

Mmmm
... But setting the “medicinal effects” aside, it was
necessary to consider the energy difference between the palefaces.
Adrian’s “energy” drew me to him like a magnet. The same was not
true with Dr. Barringer or Stephen. Is this what
people
call “sexual
attraction”?

Still thinking about all
these issues, I finished my bath and went back to my room. I knew
I’d have trouble falling asleep. With a resigned sigh, I slipped
under the duvet and turned off the light.

Half an hour later, I was
still but I persisted for a few more minutes, turning from side to
side until I finally gave up and turned on the light. I thought
about watching television, but that idea didn’t excite me either. I
looked at the codex.
Are you nuts, girl?
You aren’t able to sleep, right now...So what?
Let it go, girl!

I folded back the quilt and
sat cross-legged on the bed, fully concentrating on my previous
conjectures. Adrian could not be a...
No,
of course not!
Admittedly, the Cahill
family was outside of any standard, far from any comparison I could
draw in my crazy head.
That makes any
difference in how you feel about him, doesn’t it?

My voice of reason was screaming inside my
head that it should, but the less sensible voice (which was
probably my heart) screamed that there was no escape. I felt
ensnared in a web...and I was becoming more and more entangled in
it. In fact, I suspected that even if I wanted to leave town, he
would not let me.

Oh, no! I’m not assuming that he could
impose his presence or keep me his prisoner—far from it, but I’m
sure he’d find a way prevent me from leaving by using the arguments
of “safety,” just as he did when he convinced me to stay in town,
to accept the job, and apply for admission to college. Strange
things could happen, but I’d never be absolutely sure about
anything else in my life. He would be in charge of it. He would
remain vigilant, but out of my reach and my sight and that was
precisely what I could not tolerate—not being able to see him,
touch him, or just talk to him. We were connected by invisible
bonds—far beyond my comprehension.

Do I really want to know the truth behind
all this? I think not. I guess I couldn’t handle the truth, even if
it was staring me in the face. Dr. Barringer was right. My mind
deserved a break. Adrian was right. I still was not ready for that.
But my father was right too... the signs were unmistakable.

Suddenly the sound of my new phone burst
forth louder than my “mental grunt.” I sat there with both hands
holding my face, staring at the small unit for some time. By the
time I thought to look at the display of my new PDA which was
laying beside phone, it was too late to answer. What could Stephen
possibly want at this hour? Had something happened to Adrian?

That thought made me literally leap over to
the phone and open the lid in one stride. When I looked at the
display, my heart stopped. It was not Stephen... I prayed silently
that my voice would sound strong before pushing button to answer
the call. Even so, I couldn’t stop myself from sounding
ridiculously timid.