Zamani (17 page)

Chapter
Twenty Four

In response to her pleas for
help, Olivia asked Wren for time. Instead of being disappointed by this
request, Wren was glad. She needed time to figure out things herself.
 
Not only did she have to work out some
bargain with Olivia to convince her she was valuable and useful enough to be
rescued from sure execution, but she also was meeting with a reporter, Vaughn
Morris, who wanted to write a book about her and about the crimes she’d been
accused of.
 
She spent the morning
of the first interview pacing in her cell, wondering what he would ask and how
she would answer.
 
She knew she had
to play her part well in order to keep Olivia in her good graces.
 
After realizing Olivia controlled some
of the people at the prison, Wren became even more aware of every move she made
and everything she said out loud.
 
She even tried her best to quiet her mind when others were near her. She
felt this might be a bit paranoid, but the exercise made her feel at least some
tiny glimmer of control.
 

Newly lucid, she requested
books from the prison library on psychology and on meditation.
 
She devoured the books, looking for some
answers and some help with keeping her composure with Olivia.
 
She also wanted to appear credible when
meeting with Vaughn Morris.

Vaughn was a nice guy.
 
In the first interview, he let her take
the lead, and she felt better after talking to someone about Alex.
 
Talking about how she felt about Alex
had been easy; she was grateful that he hadn’t pushed her into talking about
the others right off the bat.
 
She
was more than willing to accept responsibility and blame for her actions
regarding Alex, even though she knew now that she had tried to protect her in
the only way she knew how by turning her.
 
The other deaths she knew Olivia was more directly responsible for.
 
Anger rose up in her again as she
thought about all of the times Olivia made choices for her and for others.
 
She could rationalize her own attempt to
turn Alex; at least she’d wanted to do that out of love and to help her, not
out of some maniacal need to have another pawn to control for her own
amusement.
 

As a dancer and street
hustler, Wren had good people reading skills, and she started to realize that
those she knew were under Olivia’s control were identifiable if she just paid
enough attention.
 
Within a week of
her awakening, she could spot the few donors among the guards, and she realized
when talking to Jan Solaris that she had more motivation than simply keeping
her job in how she advised Wren. She was under Olivia’s control and feared for
her life.
 
Vaughn was free of
influence, though; she saw no hidden motives.
 
He was genuinely interested in what she
had to say.
 

When he returned for the
second interview, Wren was a bit more relaxed, and he asked her about her
childhood.
 
No one had taken much
interest in Wren’s past before, and she enjoyed telling stories and even flirted
with him a little.
 
It felt nice to
have a normal conversation with someone.

Olivia returned to Wren’s
cell the night of the second interview, rewarding her not only with attention
but also with some vague indication she was willing to help her.
 
She even commented on how Wren seemed
more in control of her emotions and more restrained, less desperate.
 
Wren was simply glad that Olivia didn’t
seem to suspect that she had chosen to fight rather than choosing to be a
puppet.

When Olivia left that night,
Wren dreamt of Alex.
 
After they
broke up, Alex had grown her hair out.
 
She’d teased Wren she didn’t want to be a boy and the fact her boyish
style had drawn Wren to her bothered her.
 
Wren found her just as attractive with the longer hair as she had with
short hair, but she didn’t tell her that, lest she know she still carried a
torch for her.
 
She and Liz were a
great pair, even Wren had to admit that.
 
That didn’t mean she hadn’t wanted still Alex.
 

In the dream, they were at
The Ruby, and Wren was pressing Alex against the door of the office, kissing
her deeply as the rest of the bar patrons were distracted by the film Alex had
chosen to show that night.
 
In real
life, the kiss had ended rather quickly, but in the dream, Alex grabbed the doorknob
and opened the office.
 
Only it
wasn’t an office—it was Wren’s bedroom at the Delphine where she and Alex
had spent their first night together years ago.
 
Alex pushed her back on her bed and fell
on top of her, kissing her mouth and her neck.
 
She pushed up, her hair brushing Wren’s
cheeks as she opened her eyes to look at her.
 
As Alex smiled, Wren flipped her over
and began returning the kisses.

Wren woke up crying.
 
The dream was too real.
 
She still felt connected to Alex and
couldn’t fathom that she was truly gone.
 
She wiped the tears from her cheeks and willed herself to go back to
sleep. In the early hours of the morning, just as the sun was coming up, it was
Alex’s laughter in her dreams, not Olivia’s. Alex’s laugh was the laugh of
sweet kisses and sleepy I love yous between warm and tousled sheets.

And she heard what Alex said
to her every time they parted when they were a couple.
 
“I can’t wait for you to see me
again.”
 
It was a little joke back
then between them, but hearing it now made the hair on the back of her arms
stand up.
 
She woke up with chills,
wondering why she’d thought of that after all this time.

While Olivia worked on a
solution to freeing Wren, she was largely absent and the visits stopped. She’d
left Wren with instructions to continue to build her strength and to work on
her self-control. She’d actually suggested Wren study meditation and self-hypnosis.
 
While Wren was relieved that the fact
she was already doing this wasn’t a problem for Olivia, she also wondered if
Olivia already knew. Perhaps she had spies in the prison library.
 
Wren’s plans went beyond self-control,
though, and she was curious if she could develop her powers of influence as
Olivia obviously had.

 
Wren began to experiment first by
reaching out with her mind, trying to call the guard she’d just fed from to her
cell.
 
She closed her eyes and
focused on the taste of the guard’s blood, the feeling of her skin under Wren’s
lips.
 
She’d heard the guard’s name in
her head as she fed on her. She focused on the name, too, whispering it in her
mind over and over: “Silvia, Silvia. . . “
 
It didn’t take long before she heard the rattle of keys in her cell
door.
 
The guard slid in again and
stood before her, silent.
 
Wren
stood near her and concentrated on the question, “Can you hear me?”
 
The guard spoke, softly in response.
 
“Yes.”
 

“Do you have the power to
let me go?”

“No.
 
I am here to provide you with protection
and sustenance only; while I can come to you when you call for me, I ultimately
answer to Olivia.”
 

Wren sent her on her
way.
 
She should have known that
Silvia would not be able to break from Olivia’s power, but she was at least
aware of a way to communicate with others, even if she was in her cell.
 
She thought about who she could reach
out to on the outside.
 
Liz wouldn’t
be open to contact, she was sure; the two of them had barely gotten along as
acquaintances, and now that Wren was in jail for killing Liz’s girlfriend,
she’d hardly warm up to her.
 
Her
lawyer was obviously out, too.
 
She’d made it clear that the only option she was willing to follow was a
guilty plea and Wren could sense Olivia’s influence and control on her.
 
Wren being found with Alex’s body
certainly didn’t provide her with any other options for a defense.

Alex.

Wren knew it was a long
shot, but she figured she had nothing to lose.
 
It wasn’t like she didn’t have the time
to try, and if vampires existed, who is to say angels didn’t exist, too?

She closed her eyes again
and concentrated, trying to focus on the way Alex smelled and tasted.
 
She started by remembering the two of
them together, before Olivia, before Liz, before Sienna.
 
She remembered Alex’s hands on her back,
her breath on her neck, kisses that started soft and turned frenzied.
 
She remembered the taste of Alex’s warm
blood on her tongue, and the feeling of her life seeping out of her, into
Wren’s mouth.

And then she saw
her—it was Alex, but it wasn’t Alex—she was in a crowd of people,
her back to Wren, and even though the blonde hair didn’t match up to Wren’s
memory of Alex, the laughter was the same. Wren tried to push against her, to
let her know she was there.
 
Alex
turned her head in response, a puzzled look on her face. Just as Wren saw
Alex’s eyes, she felt as if someone had yanked her back from where she stood,
and she sat up in her bunk.

Alex was still alive.

The first moments of contact
Wren managed with Alex were brief and it was as if she were watching a film.
 
She reached out during times when Alex
was with others, and she guessed they provided a buffer between her and
Alex.
 
She used those visits to
gather as much information as she could.
 
She wasn’t sure that she was actually there, anyway.
 
Without interaction, she knew the
visions might all be her own mind playing tricks on her.
 
But the only way to know was to keep
trying and hopefully make contact.

She knew from those visits
that Alex went by Sasha now. She’d heard others call her by that name.
 
Sasha was like the version of Alex that
Wren had wished she could be back when they were together.
 
She was confident and self-assured, and
she was much tougher than Alex had been.
 
This version of Alex never would have felt insecure about Wren’s
devotion and loyalty to her.
 
She
would have demanded it and been sure of it.

She’d cut her hair again,
wearing it short and close to her head.
 
She’d also bleached it platinum blonde, and she was wearing make
up.
 
Had they passed each other on
the street, Wren wondered if she would have recognized Alex at all. Even if she
wouldn’t have recognized her, she knew she would have noticed her and pursued
her; she was simply stunning.
 
She
always had been, though.

After several observational
visits, Wren decided she had to try when it was likely Alex would be
alone.
 
She napped during the day,
making sure she was rested before reaching out in the early pre-dawn hours.
 
She concentrated, saying Alex’s name in
her mind first, then deciding she should focus on who Alex was now—Sasha.
In her mind’s eye she could see Sasha curled up around another girl.
 
Wren remembered hearing the girl’s
name—Steph—from her earlier visits.
 
She imagined that she was whispering “I
can’t wait until you see me again” in Sasha’s ear.
 
Sasha first brushed her ear with her
hand as if a mosquito were bothering her. The motion made her realize what
she’d heard, though, and she sat up, wide-eyed and looking around the
room.
 
She sat still for a moment,
listening.
 
She slid from the bed,
not wakening Steph, and slid into a robe.
 
She stepped outside into the courtyard—the same courtyard Wren had
seen in her mind’s eye many times, and she lit a cigarette. Wren tried again,
whispering to her.
 

Sasha froze, holding the
smoke in her lungs.
 
She turned
slowly, as if she were halfway expecting to see someone standing there, but
there was nothing.
 
She exhaled
slowly, the smoke coming out in wispy streaks.
 
Finally, she spoke:
 
“I don’t know if you’re here or not,
Wren.
 
If you are, you surely know
I’m angry with you.”

Wren waited, wondering if
Sasha would say more.
 
Finally, as
she was taking the last drag off her cigarette, Wren whispered to her, “I’m
sorry.
 
Believe that I did what I
did out of love.”

Sasha stubbed the cigarette
out.
 
“Now that’s a story I need to
hear.
 
You cannot enter my home
again unless I invite you, which I won’t.
 
I’ll come to you when I’m ready to hear what you have to say.”
 
She went back to bed.