Vision (18 page)

Relax. Go with the flow
, he reminded
me.

When we exited the helicopter, guns drove
into our backs; the visible evil looks of the waiting Bane growing
in focus as we approached.

“Don’t even think of chatting with each other
or I’ll blow her brains out,” Jasper promised in a deepened voice
void of emotion, his own gun aimed at Mom’s head.

Growing weary of Jasper’s paranoia and
threats about our unique communication style, I started to think he
wouldn’t know one way or the other. And in our current predicament,
we had nothing to lose. They had guns, we didn’t, and seeing Mom a
trigger pull away from dying was unbearable.

I tuned into Andre’s frequency. His face was
difficult to read, but his face was not.

Do what we say, just bloody do what we say. I
can’t loose you. Please.

Interesting – after all this and my blatant
expressions of disdain toward him and he still pined for me. But
more than that, his exhausted sounding head voice indicated he
didn’t want a violent end for anyone.

“We have a predicament I’m afraid,” Jasper
continued, “All we wanted was your best, brightest Clear and now
all this – tsk, tsk. You love her, I take it?” He asked, glancing
at Stuart who didn’t respond but shot a cold, hard stare at Jasper
who shook his head slightly as if to brush him away like a fly. “At
any rate, here’s my final offer. I take the girl…again…for good
this time…and you all – will live.”

Then very suddenly Jasper took three long
strides toward me, causing Stuart to jump up and lunge toward him
as he closed in. But a thug grabbed and then hurled Stuart through
the air. I watched him land in a crouched position a few yards
away. In the meantime, Jasper now held a knife to my throat and I
experienced the same sensation as during the long nights in Sarah’s
dream. The others pointed guns at the group.

I managed to shift my eyes without moving a
muscle so I could see Stuart, in the same position, his unblinking
eyes fixed on the scene while contemplating his next move.

Don’t bloody move.

You’re joking, right?
Movement could
lead to losing my head, so it was a given I would remain
motionless.

“I’ve changed my mind…again,” Jasper said,
“And they say women are bad. Layla, choose who dies before we
leave.” The blade pricked my skin and I felt a small, light stream
of warmth run down my neck.

Blood.

I felt Stuart wince.

I was too mortified to respond. We were
officially dealing with a mad man, and I regretted pulling everyone
to me when I could have just done this alone.

Stop it, Layla
. Stuart’s eyes had
ignited with flames. His head was slightly down, his eyes upward,
ablaze, the intent to kill obvious
. Choose me. Say you want them
to take me, he sent.

No way!

Yes, do it! I can defend myself.

No. Freaking. Way!

“Choose damn it or I will!” Jasper was losing
patience, and we were all losing time.

“Take me,” he said.

Oh god no, Stuart.

Jasper sighed; exasperated from the drama he
was responsible for creating. “Fine.” He shoved me to the ground
hard and unexpected, but I was able to catch myself before my
forehead slammed into the concrete.

Jasper nodded to the thugs who wielded guns.
They aimed at Stuart and fired.

Still on the ground, I yelled, “No please
no!” But Stuart was gone – not gone as in dead, but gone like not
in the vicinity. There was no sign of him, and no indication blood
was spilled.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Jasper hit the ground – hard, a stream of
blood instantly running downhill where he landed, the knife
skidding away from him. I blinked and missed another fast-action
Stuart maneuver. He swooped in from somewhere, but I didn’t catch
the actual movement.

And before I think further, all hell broke
loose.

Stuart moved diagonally through the air,
kicking his heels into one of the thug heads whose gun went off
before he was laid out horizontal. I heard Colin suck in air before
he fell to the ground.

He was hit.

It all happened at once.

Jasper was up again. He fired at Stuart but
the bullet shot through air, and Stuart vanished like vapor. I was
trying to keep up – he had told me to follow his lead, but I wasn’t
sure what to follow.

Jasper was exasperated and pissed. “Come out,
come out Mr. Fairchild. Let’s finish playing.”

I ran over to Mom and Colin. Mom was kneeling
next to Colin, who was still on the ground. She tied her scarf
around his arm creating a makeshift tourniquet. He looked up and
met my panicked expression. “Flesh wound,” he assured me.

I nodded. “Mom?” I whispered, “What now?” She
was deep in thought, extremely focused. In the moment, she had my
utmost admiration and I needed her direction.

Stuart reappeared from thin air, confiscating
the gun from the other thug then making it vanish. In the meantime
Jasper rearmed with a small pistol.

I hadn’t noticed Andre in all the commotion,
until he made a move to take off running toward the hangar. Stuart
wrestled the gun from Jasper and as Andre ran, the gun fired.

Andre stopped, staggered for an instant
before he collapsed face down on the concrete.

Jasper had shot his son in the back fighting
with Stuart.

He had not aimed, yet Andre was hit.

Jasper, now unarmed due to Stuart’s quick
moves burrowed his manic eyes into Stuart who stood motionless. “I.
Will. Kill. You,” his vengeful voice seethed.

Stuart stammered, realizing someone our age
had been fatally shot, and he was indirectly responsible. “I
didn’t…”

“Stuart, watch out!” The scream came from me,
and he was already airborne, first straight up, then sideways,
three guns firing at him in unison. He disappeared, and I hoped it
was not due to accurate marksmanship.

Then from the invisible distance out of the
morning fog, rapid machine gun fire made everyone drop to the
ground. Stuart resurfaced draping himself over me from behind.

You’re okay, I sent, smiling to myself.

The gunshots continued but no one could see
where they came from. Colin waved us toward a gated dumpster area a
few yards away. Mom followed and Stuart pulled me in the same
direction where we hovered low behind the large cans.

The firing stopped and for an instant you
could hear a pin drop. Jasper rose, signaling his thugs toward a
small airplane outside one of the hangars, leaving Andre in a pool
of blood, alone.

Out of the dull morning mist a figure
emerged, unidentifiable, except for the large machine gun
wielded.

Next to me Mom snorted, “Well, it’s about
damn time!”

The figure came into focus. “Dad?” My
anti-gun, peace-loving, rock and roll father was walking toward us
dressed in khakis and tank top, biceps flexed, holding a large Uzi
with one arm. “Dad?”

The Cessna carrying the Bane taxied away
quickly and lifted off toward where the sun would be rising if the
day were clear.

When I turned to where Andre had been there
was only an empty space marked by a pool of blood.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

It was a lot to process. Dad, aka Rambo,
Colin sitting up now with a bullet wound, and Mom with her usual
clinical aloofness, brushing the dust from her clothes as if she
had been gardening.

My life was seriously weird.

And of course, Stuart.

To see him in full fight mode, flying around
knocking people to the ground was too much.

It had all been way too much.

I never wanted anyone to die, not even Andre.
Not even Genevieve.

So after retching the nothing from my
stomach, which I seemed to be doing more of these days, I collapsed
on the ground in total and absolute exhaustion. Someone would make
sure I was transported home.

*****

Everyone gathered at the Fairchild’s again,
our informal headquarters and makeshift sanctuary. I slept ten
hours into the evening with vague recollection of the drive back,
unsure how I ended up in Stuart’s bed.

He was stretched out next to me, an unmoving
statue waiting for my eyes to open. A slight sting on my neck
caused my fingers to find the bandage marking the place Jasper had
cut me. As I did Stuart’s jaw tightened in anger, and I heard him
flash through a myriad of revenge scenarios against the Bane.

“Hello, love.” His face was ashen, a
different look for him, his eye all at once smiling, worried, and
loving. The events of the last three days wouldn’t take shape in my
brain. Neither would the questions. And there were many.

My first coherent thought was that we were
safe and alive. No lives lost. Second thought involved the
delectable gorgeous nature of my boyfriend/Guardian. I returned his
smile, stroking his cheek. “Hey.”

Next I remembered Andre. “Did they get away?
Is Andre dead? I didn’t see his body…”

Stuart stroked my hair as he answered. “They
all left in a Cessna. No one saw what happened to Andre. Too much
commotion after Sam arrived and everyone scattered.”

“Oh.” That meant they would still be after
us, me.

I finished waking up, remembering my demand
over the holidays that there be no more secrets kept from me, to
which everyone had agreed to and once again, broken.

Why the hell didn’t I know Dad was James
Bond? Everyone involved, except me, came off as military field
experts, and I wondered how many more of these shoot-outs they had
participated in.

“How are you feeling?” He whispered as if to
keep the secret of me waking up quiet for a little bit longer.

I shook my head back and forth, warm tears
melting toward the pillow, unsure how to respond. My mouth opened,
but nothing came out.

Regardless…he read me.

“We will tell you everything.”

When?

Wake up first, love.

Don’t ‘love’ me, Fairchild. My life is not my
own. Everyone lies.

Not true. We protect.

Bullshit. My Dad? My Dad, the nerdy
physical therapist is the fucking Rock? What…what do I do with
that? A mother who behaves like a programmed robot with a gun to
her head?
”Call everyone in here…now!”

Since I didn’t call in advance, it was a huge
relief when she answered the door. She could have been
traveling.

I didn’t care my eyes were noticeably red and
nearly swollen shut from sobbing, or that I presented like the
walking dead. “Hi, Abbey,” I sniffled, nearly collapsing in her
arms.

“Layla! What a surprise!” She caught me
easily, and pulled me into her without hesitation.

Wiping my nose with my sleeve, I smiled shyly
hoping she wasn’t upset about the unannounced drop by. “I’m sorry
to come without calling. Do you have a minute?”

She sang a laugh. “A minute? Don’t be silly
and get inside.”

She herded me to the sitting room where we
stayed up all night talking. Well, initially I talked and she
listened. There would be no interruptions, no calls or fly by’s. I
needed peace and stillness.

After making demands for Dad’s credit card
for a ‘give me some freaking space’ trip and privacy without anyone
trying to find me, I fled to the only person I knew who would
understand my existence and offer comfort, and possibly answers.
Sienna drove me to the airport, the only person I could tolerate
looking at. I found profound satisfaction looking at their faces
while they freaked out about me
20
raveling alone.

“I thought they had told me everything. I
thought all the secrets were on the table. I thought nothing went
left unsaid. Sure I was over the moon about our survival, and Colin
was fine after being treated for his wound, so I listened while
they filled in the blanks, answering some of my questions, and then
I left. I couldn’t stand to be in the room with them any longer.
Oh, and my Dad is Rambo – my geeky, Clark Kent meets Bruce
Springsteen Dad is a part-time Bane assassin. He managed to keep
that blocked from me. Mom probably showed him.” I blew into another
tissue.

Processing aloud to Abbey wasn’t lessening
the mythical absurdity of my words. I thought it would help, but
instead felt like I was reading to her from some sort of bizarre
yet to be published fairytale.

Abbey reminded me I was a Clear. I know
truths and can read people. And no one had lied as much as
withheld.

Then she just blinked and remained quiet.

“Do bean sidhe have the same emotions as
regular people? Do you get, like, astonished?” I finally asked.
“I’m not being sarcastic, but you don’t seem fazed by much.”

She finally spoke. “Dear, tell me, would you
have believed any of this had they simply dumped it all on you at
once?”

Uh, okay Miss Smarty-pants. But I did pause
for a moment to ponder the question. “Um, probably…not.”

She smiled, “Of course not. Everything is
revealed in due time. I mean, I barely sold you on the idea of bean
sidhe.” She patted my hand. “Is your life really all that bad?”

Abbey filled in more blanks, telling how
George had been stabbed through the heart with a special silver
dagger by Bane, the only way to end of the life of a soul herder,
and how her mortal children died long ago. Hearing her story helped
me to stop feeling so sorry for myself. I cried for Abbey. She told
me not to because she loved her life.

When the sun came up I walked outside alone
to flush out my head. The day was bright and cold and perfect.
White, puffy clouds tumbled in synch with the wind. The sea was
mellow and quiet and I recalled how dramatic the waves could be
when they crashed against the rocks below. I sat on a grass-covered
mound, absorbing the stillness, the peace of being alone free of
head chatter. I breathed in the fresh, cool air, letting it fill my
lungs and clear the webs. My ancestors had lived here, still live
here. Abbey was some sort of distant cousin, and really more than
that now. She told me she could never leave here, even after
everything that happened. For her this was still a place of
enchantment, and spirits, and vivid memories – a place where she
still felt the strong presence of family.