Iona Portal (10 page)

“The look she got…” Lys said, struggling against the pain, “It’s the same look the men gave me just before they tried to kill me.  And every time I watch it, I see the same thing.  Something’s there, and it’s not that poor woman.  Something is
in
her.  It’s looking at me through her eyes… and it isn’t human.”  Lys’s body shuddered and she shook her head, as if trying to shake the image from her mind.

 “Roger, I know this sounds crazy, but that suicide bomber… I’m sure she’s somehow tied in with the men who tried to kill me.”

Roger reached out and rested his hand lightly on her shoulder, “Sis, you’re still shaken-up from the accident.  Don’t let your mind get carried away.   That woman was just mentally unbalanced.”

“No, Roger.  I know what ‘unbalanced’ looks like.  This was different.  It’s like the woman wasn’t even there.  Something was
in
her, using her body.  And whatever you call it…”  Lys fumbled for the right word, and finally found it. “It was…
evil.
”

The news channel was beginning another security camera replay.  Roger reached out and switched off the TV.  “Lys, you’ve had a horrible experience, but I know you’ll come through it. When they catch those men, you’ll see they were just strung out on drugs.  And that woman was just a brainwashed fanatic.  Don’t let your mind make this into anything more.”

Roger hesitated. “Lys, I have to tell you something, and you need to listen.  Your office called me earlier this afternoon. They checked on that woman, Kareina, you asked me about.” 

Lys looked up, “Did they find her?  Is she okay?”

“Someone from your office went door-to-door, checking every office on your floor, then every office in the building.  But no one in your building has ever heard of a Kareina.  Two floors down they found a
Katrina
working as an accountant, but she’s a 54 year-old blonde and weighs 250 pounds.  In other words, sis… no matches.” 

“But that’s impossible,” Lys objected.  “I
know
her.  She came by my desk almost every day.  I remember talking with her in the car just before the accident.   I didn’t make her up.”

Roger reached down and held her hand.  “You’ve been through a terrible ordeal...  something most people wouldn’t have survived.  It’s natural for you to be confused.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that your mind is playing tricks on you.  You’ve had a serious trauma and it’s left you mixed-up, but you need to face the facts.  There was no Kareina in the car.  There was no Kareina in your building.  Lys, this ‘Kareina’ person doesn’t exist.”

***

PLANO, TEXAS (A SUBURB OF DALLAS)

I’m going mad,
Erin thought.
 Absolutely stark-raving mad.

Erin Vanderberg sat numbly on her patio pouring her fourth glass of wine of the afternoon.  She tilted the bottle to the vertical and held it a moment to drain the last drops.  Then she raised the glass and admired its rich red contents.  It was her favorite wine, a little-known
Sangiovese
from a remote village in Italy.  She had it shipped in by the case. 

Taking a long, slow sip, she leaned back on the chaise again to watch a beautiful pump-driven waterfall cascade down a carefully-landscaped artificial cliff and into her swimming pool.

Why am I doing this? 
She thought. 
Why do I keep going?

Three weeks earlier she had returned from Hawaii, nursing a glimmer of hope.  Since then, however, her doubts about the events at Kilauea had begun to grow.  She pondered the scene with Araton on the edge of the crater, replaying it endlessly in her mind.  It seemed remote, like something she’d watched a long time ago in a bad movie. 

She and Araton had spent most of that day at Volcano House talking.  It had given her a fleeting sense of purpose and a hope that things could change, but she’d heard nothing from Araton since returning to Dallas.  Had it even been
real?

Maybe she’d imagined the whole thing.  Perhaps that whole day was just an unusually vivid dream that somehow lodged in her memory.

After a while she began to chide herself for even
thinking
it could have been real. 
Erin Vanderberg rescued from the clutches of an ancient Hawaiian volcano goddess by a winged alien who warned of coming global catastrophe.  Yeah, right!

In the weeks since returning to Dallas, absolutely nothing had changed.   The only good thing was that Rex, as usual, seemed preoccupied with activities at the ranch.  She’d only seen him once since her return.

But she’d quickly jumped back into a swirling tide of endless responsibilities. 
The curse of doing things well,
she thought. 
Do one thing well, and you’ll be given more.  Much more. 
She was torn by constant pressure from a dozen directions.

The mayor has opposed the new plan for the arboretum.  No problem.  Erin Vanderberg just got back from Hawaii.  She’ll take the mayor’s new wife to lunch and get things back on track. 

And by the way, Erin… we’re so looking forward to your presentation at the Dallas Arts Council luncheon.  The governor will be there.  This is very important.

And, Erin, the entertainment for the Charity Ball just canceled.  The tickets have already been printed.  Details have fallen through the cracks and no one is sure what to do.  We need your help, Erin.  You’re the only one that can pull this together.

Erin can fix it.  Erin Vanderberg can do anything.  
 They all depended on her.

After all these years, Erin knew she was still trying to prove herself.  To prove she was not Rex.  And to do that, she had to be perfect.  She had to know the right people and have the right answers.  And above all, she had to be strong.  Always.  She could never let anyone know what Erin Vanderberg was really like.

The momentary refreshment of her time in Hawaii was now a distant memory.  Despite the Xanex, her panic attacks had resumed, and against her doctor’s warning, she drank a full bottle of wine every night just to get to sleep.

Then last night she’d lost it.  It began with a middle-of-the-night panic attack.  She awoke at 2:00 AM feeling frightened and alone.  Her legs and shoulders were twitching.  She felt lightheaded.  There was a smothering sensation… the sense that there was no oxygen in the air she was breathing.  Next came the pressing tightness in her chest.  She tried to scream, but could not.  Her heart was a sledge hammer pounding in her rib cage. 
Was she having a heart attack?

In her mind Erin knew there was no danger… just the classic symptoms of an anxiety attack.  They would pass in a few minutes, leaving her shaky and drenched with sweat.  She’d experienced these attacks on and off for years.  It didn’t matter that the symptoms weren’t real.  They always
felt
real. 

When the symptoms finally subsided, she’d flipped on the TV and for the first time saw the reports of the New York bombing.  That’s when she fell apart. 

She didn’t know why the news hit her so hard.  Terrorist attacks seemed to happen all the time now.  She felt little connection to New York City, and certainly knew none of the people involved.  Even the
Nine-Eleven
attacks had not affected her like this.  The moment she saw the report she began to weep uncontrollably.

She never got back to sleep.  She had her secretary cancel everything and spent the morning numbly watching and re-watching the reports.

What’s happening to me?

She’d nearly finished the wine when she sensed a presence close by.  She looked up to see Araton standing beside her.

“Araton!”
she gasped as she lurched clumsily to her feet, then stared at him with her mouth agape.  His appearance was every bit as unsettling as their first meeting had been, but in a different way. 

On the one hand, Erin had a strong urge to throw herself into his arms, embracing Araton like a long-lost love, finally reunited.  With another part of her mind, however, she wanted to collapse in tears and pour out her frustration.  Reigning in her emotions, she managed a middle course.

“Araton,” she repeated, struggling to remain standing, “I’d almost convinced myself that you weren’t real… that it had all been a dream.” 

“I assure you, I’m very real.”  He smiled.  Then, noting the combined effects of a sleepless night and a full bottle of wine, he added, “… but I think you’d better sit back down.”

He helped her into the chaise, then sat down cross-legged on the patio beside her.  “Tell me what’s happening.”

 “I’m not sure
what’s
happening.” She answered.  “This morning when I heard about the bombing, I just fell apart.  I don’t even know why.

 “What I’m feeling… it’s not the kind of grief you feel about terrible events in far-away places.  It’s not even the sympathy you feel for people you know.  Araton, this feels
personal. 
It feels like I’m mourning a personal loss.”

Araton looked at her quietly for a moment, then said, “When I heard about the bombing I knew I needed to come.  I expected you’d have this response when you saw her.”

“You assumed I’d fall apart when I saw the video of the suicide bomber?”  Erin said, puzzled.
“Why?”

“The woman in the video was Sylvia Romano.”

Seeing the questioning look on Erin’s face, he added, “No, you’ve never met her, but your destinies were closely intertwined.”

“Sylvia was supposed to be part of the group we’re forming.  If her path had not been interrupted, the two of you would have worked together closely.  In fact, she was destined to one day be your closest friend.  Your subconscious senses that, and you feel the loss.”

“What happened to her?”

“Sylvia was captured by the enemy and held prisoner in one of their strongholds.” 

“A
stronghold?”
Erin asked.  “What’s that?” 

“A stronghold is an area the enemy controls, where powerful Archon warriors dominate the territory.   In this case, it was a neighborhood near the South Bronx called Tremont Point.  They knew we couldn’t operate openly there to rescue her.

“We tried repeatedly to warn her, but we didn’t have sufficient strength to gain her release.  In the end they took possession of her body and turned her into a walking bomb.  They used her to further their plans.”

“They can do that?’ Erin recoiled in horror.  “Control our bodies against our will?”

“Only when your will has been weakened.  If you become hopeless enough they can overpower you and control your every movement.”

He paused and looked at her intently.  “Erin, you must remain alert.  I believe the enemy has formed a plan to eliminate you as well.  You must not let that happen.”

Erin looked at him and their eyes met for a long moment.  She suddenly realized that Araton was the only person in the world she really trusted.  He was watching over her and seemed to genuinely care what happened to her.  Though he wasn’t even human, she felt protected, and totally secure in his presence.  That was something she had not felt for many years.

It may have been the wine, be she couldn’t stop herself from asking the question that came to her mind.  “Araton...  We both know my marriage is a sham.  I have no one.  I’m totally alone.  You’re the only person in the world I trust right now.  Please forgive me for asking, but… is there any possibility of … a
relationship
between us?”

“I’m sorry Erin,” he said firmly, “but that would violate our strictest rules.  Many years ago, a group of renegade Irin who called themselves the
Grigori
, entered your world and took human wives, but the results were disastrous.  I’ll tell you the story sometime, but for now, just know that it’s not possible for us to be together.

“But I can tell you this.” He continued, looking intently into her eyes.  “Your destiny does not lie with Rex Vanderberg.  There will be another man in your life, a companion you’ll fully trust and deeply love.  The two of you are destined to be together for many years.  Be patient.  It won’t be long before your paths cross.”

Erin paused for what seemed like an eternity, looking at Araton and fighting back tears.  Finally, in desperation she said, “Araton, you said I’d receive a phone call… that there’d be a group of people, others to help…  When will that happen?”

“Soon, Erin…”  He said gently, “Very soon.”

PART THREE:  SYNAXIS

Chapter Ten: Piper and Holmes

THE LAKE HOUSE – IN THE PINEY WOODS OF EAST TEXAS

Holmes guided his Mercedes CLS550 Coupe onto the Interstate 635 exit ramp.  The Friday-afternoon Dallas rush hour had been a parking lot, but they were now clear of the congestion.   Gently depressing the gas pedal, he accelerated smoothly onto Interstate 30, headed toward the Piney Woods of East Texas.