Paranormal

"What happened here? Are they what I think they are?"

"Probably." Daniel assisted her into a standing position. "Come on. Talk later. Move faster. They are still hungry." He urged Katarina to move as Stefan began to stir with a shake of his shaven head and blink of his bleary, bloodshot eyes.

"I can't go any faster," Katarina replied, out of breath, her mind still fuddled with the fog of Niko's tricks.

"Then hold on to me. Tightly."

Daniel had no idea how flight would affect Katarina as his passenger. He focused on the swirling, dense cloud cover that twisted at the edge of the midnight sky. His coat blurred, as if the fabric dissolved into separate particles and hovered around him like murky steam until it melted with the midnight clouds. This undulating miasma coiled and coated them in the spectral mist.

Stefan looked on with a perplexed expression not too different from his usual confused appearance.

* * * *

Wrapped in the hazy coverlet of vapour, Katarina gripped tight to Daniel. Her fingernails dug into the fabric of his coat as her heart dug into his. His thin, muscular arms wrapped around her like a lifebelt holding her safe. She nestled her hands into the cool crease of his elbows. She laid her face, against the firm slab of his chest. No warmth was available to comfort her, but without it she was still secure, even when her feet were no longer upon the ground. They whirled together in the blurred ribbons of fog, spiralled away on the mysterious zephyrs to the furthest edge of the park, away from danger. Giddy, light as a feather, but not nauseous, Katarina would have believed anything, even that time had stopped. Beneath them was the blackness of the whirling cloud. His gaze, vivid and sparkling, held her steady. It pierced her core. The reality of a nearby housing estate seemed to them to be part of a different world while they searched one another's souls in the spinning colours of their eyes.

Once more their feet touched ground. Under the safety of an ancient yew tree, Katarina looked at the pale face before her, a princely shade of white. "How did you do that? No, don't answer. Just, thank you for saving me." She glanced around to ensure Niko hadn't followed and turned back to him, too bashful to hold the gaze of his vivid irises.

"We are safe here," Daniel spoke with tenderness.

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

"Niko, is he…a vampire?"

"He wasn't always. But yes, he is now."

"What was he before?" She realised they were very close and had their hands upon one another's forearms.

"He was my cousin," Daniel answered.

"And you?" Katarina sighed, fearful of his reply. "What are you? You can't be a vampire, can you? I'm not afraid of you. But you feel cold." She released his arms.

"I'm a dhampir, a half vampire. I mean you no harm."

"I know that," she answered and lifted his hands. "Somehow."

Marko had led him unwittingly to the fox's corpse whose eyes were beginning to fog over with the first advances of death. Daniel pitied the dying animal whose mouth had frozen open in a cry of pain, but Marko's presence was taking away all of his compassion. Drained him of it ounce by ounce. Marko picked the creature up by the scruff of its neck and it dangled like a useless piece of meat in a butcher's window. Its glorious tail hung thick and full between twitching legs. Daniel marvelled at the myriad of colours in the pelt, orange and red with flecks of gold, its black tail as if dipped in ink. Delicate white cheeks painted his petite face.

Blood dripped from the bullet wound. Marko held the injury before Daniel's eyes. Blood dribbled down the coarse hairs, changed the colours of the pelt, running free and warm like rich ruby claret. Marko's canines slithered from their shields. His face creased into heavy bunches around his eyebrows. His cheeks emptied of any plumpness. Marko revealed his inner beast.

"Taste it," Marko demanded in demonic tones.

"No," Daniel replied, but could not avert his eyes from the droplets of blood.

"You have been a slave to humans for too long. It's time to rediscover your destiny. Become one of the family. Say yes to your true fate."

* * * *

For a long time, Daniel glared at the fox. Pity glowed in his eyes at first, but his countenance darkened. Katarina noticed dark shadows cover his brow which deepened in circles under his eyes. She had never witnessed his vampire side until this moment when a grotesque mask covered his beautiful features. Wrinkles furrowed his skin. His paleness tinged with grey. Animalistic teeth erupted past the lips she loved to kiss.

Katarina floated away. Hid behind a tree. Turned her face and wept. She wanted to disappear. Yet she knew, if she deserted him, he would be lost forever.

Daniel prowled closer to the fox. He sniffed around the body as saliva drooled in a string from his lips. Shaking, he lengthened a finger and reached for the seeping wound.

She swatted at him. "Yeah, well, if you knew the night I had, you wouldn't question how glad I am to see you." Relief flooded her like sunlight after a storm and she regaled him with the tale of the night before. Manic, she swallowed hard in between sentences and her eyes resembled moon pies, before he interrupted her.

"What happened here?" He scrutinized the side of the cottage where a board hung haphazardly. "Looks like something hit this with a sledgehammer or something mighty heavy."

Simone, feeling discombobulated for a moment, gasped. "Wow, look at that." She drew closer.

Jackson shook his head. "Is this why you were so glad to see me?"

"Jackson, I heard so many bizarre noises last night. I don't know how long that's been there, but I wouldn't be surprised if it happened last night." With him next to her, she reveled in his presence, the night before seemed years ago. A warm morning with air scented by a cluster of nearby lilac bushes, she glanced his way. "How does breakfast sound to you?" She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the back porch.

"Sounds wonderful honey." She dragged him around the side of the cottage.

"Did you notice the steps?" he asked.

"The what?" She stopped and let go of his arm and her head turned toward the stairs. "What the heck!" She hadn't noticed the holes in her excitement to meet Jackson. Not just holes, but giant gaping wounds met her gaze, as if ripped out by someone with colossal, vice-like hands. "Jackson, who would do this? Why would they do this?"

"I don't know, darlin'. It was awful windy last night. Could be the gusts ripped these out. They're old and getting warped."

Simone shook her head.

His face turned serious and he asked, "What exactly happened here last night?"

"Jackson, I told you, I heard noises and locked the bedroom. I didn't have the guts to deal with whatever was around. Whoever it was, came into the cottage. I heard them outside the door. They couldn't get in and they slammed on it so hard it practically knocked it down. I tell you, I was scared to death."

Appearing to appreciate the chance to help, he rolled his sleeves and moved to take out the remaining piece of step. "I'll look at these. They look awfully old. It may be that someone was trying to scare you and purposely jumped to break 'em. Regardless, they need replaced."

Jackson worked outside and Simone went in to put on the teapot. She heard him bang around and smiled when she thought of how afraid she had been the night before and now with him here, she felt so safe, so secure. She brought him a cup of tea and put it on the wicker table while she sipped hers and watched.

"I've got some lumber at my place. I think I have something that will fit these just fine."

A plank came out with one final pull and he turned it over and dropped it. He rubbed his arm to rid it of the gooseflesh that covered it.

"Jackson, are you all right? What happened?"

He didn't answer, but continued to rub his arm.

"Jackson, are you okay?"

He came out of his trance-like state long enough to look at her. "I…I'm…" he cleared his throat. “I'm fine. I thought I saw an animal or something in there. It's nothing though."

"It doesn't seem as if everything is fine." She watched him rub his arm. She walked over to curiously inspect the board. "Look here, there's writing on the underside. What's it say?" She squinted and rubbed at the letters. "It's so faded, but it looks like it says Beyond this point. That's an odd thing."

Jackson stared at her.

Simone, now interested in the new discovery, momentarily forgot Jackson's reaction. "Wait, I'll bet the rest of the writing is on another one." She wore the smile of a detective with a mystery to solve.

"No!" said Jackson, loudly. "Let me measure this and burn it. I'll replace the others later."

Taken aback by his abruptness, slight shock showed on her face. "Oh, okay, fine. I guess you're right. This isn't my place, after all."

Jackson picked the slat up.

She gazed out of the window. Tristan had loved the way her eyes changed color with the tide of her emotions, reflecting the depths of an inky sea or the sunlight on shimmering smooth blue water. Like the eyes of a mannequin, they watched vacantly, devoid of life and recognition. Her irises remained fixed, the eyelids motionless. At least, he thought she did not see anything. At times he could have sworn he glimpsed a flicker of life, but it was merely his imagination--his silent wish that Johanna would return to the real world.

Tristan wheeled the chair closer to the window and knelt beside it. He frowned worriedly as he carefully watched her face, her eyes, for any sign of life. 

Nothing. 

Not a flutter of her eyelids or a tremor of her full lips. His hand trembled as he stroked her cheek. Then he laid it on her hands resting so still on her lap, folded--as if she were in prayer. But she wasn't. It was just how the nurse had placed her hands and they remained that way unless someone moved them.

"Johanna, I wonder if you can hear me," he murmured softly. "I love you so much. Where are you, my darling? Why are you hiding from me and all the people that love you?"

Her small heart-shaped face remained quiet, beautiful and serene. He wondered if she even had feelings. She'd tripped several times during her daily outings and hurt herself, but there was no change, no outcry of pain, not a twinge that she even knew what had happened.

With a sigh Tristan stood up, brushed her forehead with his lips and reached for the hairbrush. Gently he brushed the long blonde locks, holding and brushing each strand as if it were made of spun gold.

A nurse entered the room with Johanna's lunch tray. "No change in her, Mr. MacDonald?" she said, sending him a smile while she put the tray on a small table next to the wheelchair. "Would you like to feed her?"

Tristan did not return the smile. His heart was bleeding for the girl he loved and his mood was dark. It was almost six months now since the accident. "Yes, of course."

"You spend so much time with her. It must be wonderful to have a man in your life who loves you so much. I'll take her to the bathroom first. Come, Johanna. Time to let Mother Nature do its job." The nurse gently took Johanna's elbow and tugged her arm to suggest that she wanted her to stand up.

It was strange how she responded to a gentle prod, to the touch of a spoon on her lips, would open her mouth for food, could walk to the bathroom--yet was lifeless as a doll. 

Like an automaton Johanna stood and slowly allowed herself to be led to the bathroom by the nurse. 

Tristan pulled up a chair. He ran his fingers through his black hair turning it into a tangled mess, while he watched his beloved walk to the bathroom like a zombie. He sank down onto the chair to wait for her. 

Zombie…

The word echoed through his mind. Suddenly his sharp reporter's mind took over. Somewhere he'd read something about catatonic states induced by some drug. It was in a foreign country. The natives would administer the drug and then the victim would behave like the living dead--like a zombie. Why hadn't he thought of this before? That bastard husband of hers was capable of anything, who says he couldn't have gotten hold of such a drug? 

Alert now, he sat up and waited for the nurse to lead Johanna back to the wheelchair. After the nurse left the room he fed Johanna the soup. When the spoon touched her lips she automatically opened her mouth and swallowed. 

Excited and anxious to go home to his computer, his usual patience now on edge, he tried to feed her as quickly as possible. His mind roiled while he spooned the food into her mouth.

The specialists who had studied Johanna's case had diagnosed her with catatonia, but she did not have the regular symptoms preceding such a case. They were baffled.

As they all were.

Usually catatonia was diagnosed in patients with severe mental illnesses. But Johanna was a normal, bright young woman before her marriage. The specialists had ruled out schizophrenia or manic depression. There was just no explanation.

Until now--maybe…

Could it be? Voodoo? If only he could find Paul Blake--he'd be the one with the answers and if need be he'd beat it out of the man.

“Wow. Very impressive.” The granite statue felt warm and almost lifelike beneath her touch as she caressed the contours of the piece. A tingling sensation started at her fingertips and worked its way up her arm. The feeling continued as though someone were running their hands over Meg’s body, touching her everywhere. She backed away, but continued to stare at the statue. The broad forehead and high cheekbones of the statue gave way to a square, determined jaw. Obviously, a man accustomed to getting his own way. But it was the eyes that drew her attention. Although carved from stone, Meg had the distinct impression that they seemed to follow her movements about the room.

“That’s Captain London.” A voice behind her softly intoned.

Meg jumped and whirled around. Mrs. Boone stood just inside the front door, peeking nervously around the corner. “Captain London?”

Mrs. Boone nodded. “He owned the house back in the 1800’s. He had it built for when he retired from the sea, but alas never returned from the sea to live here. His ship went down in a terrible storm, and now he walks the corridors of Heron House. It’s in the will that the statue must remain in the house, passing from buyer to buyer.”

“Really, I wonder why?” With a last lingering look at the statue, Meg shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Boone, but surely even you must know there’s no such thing as ghosts. Simply one’s overactive imagination at work. Now, where can we sign the papers? I’d like to get settled.”

It's dark, and I hear the water lapping around me, pressing on my shoulders like liquid hands. It reminds me of a scene in a film, when the heroine is floating in the icy ocean, waiting for rescue.

Except that I'm not in the ocean, and it isn't icy, and I haven't just seen my boyfriend sink under the waves. As far as I know, Jase, who is the nearest thing I have to a boyfriend, is living his usual life of skateboards, I-pods, pizza and patches of poetry. And--well, come to think of it, my situation doesn't remind me of a film after all. It doesn't remind me of anything much, except the fact that I might be five seconds or a million years from home.

Or have I simply slipped through the cracks of reality?

Here I am, treading water in the dark. I can hear the splash of the Jindabek Foss above me. In a moment, I'll dive back through, and then I'll be home again. I hope. I hope.

Well, it's logical, right? Diving back will be like clicking "Undo" on the computer. Or maybe it's more like clicking "Back" on the Internet browser, since "Undo" makes the original action as if it had never happened. All "Back" does is to take you back to the page before.

The things that have happened to me since I dived through the Foss the first time don't mean much in the global scale of things. I mean, what's one gell… I mean, girl … more or less? The world doesn't depend on my courage, and if my theory is right, I won't even rate a mention in the local paper. If my theory is wrong, I'll rate far too many mentions, and everything will be horrible.

It must be right.

It has to be right.

As I just said, the things that have happened are not much in the scale of things, but they are more than much to me…

So, think, Corrie. Think about going home.

And kick-start your brain and get into some serious recall, remembering all the steps that led you here…

“What did the sorcerer do to you?” she inquired.

He squeezed her hand. “Every month at the full moon, I turn into a ferocious beast for a night. When I wake in the morning, I don’t remember a thing.”

Leslie swallowed nervously. She looked up and noticed the moon peek out from behind a fluffy white cloud. “Is it full tonight?”

Peter shrugged his shoulders and waited anxiously. “I hope not. I don’t want our evening spoiled.”

They sat on the bench and watched the moon move slowly into full view.

 “Please, no,” he murmured.

Leslie prayed silently to herself. She didn’t want a perfectly romantic evening ruined either.

When the moon was completely revealed, they both let out a cry of distress.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

His eyes enlarged and he clutched his chest. Peter fell to the ground in agony. “There is only one thing you can do,” he gasped.

“What’s that?” Leslie got up and slowly backed away.

 “Enter the Spirited Forest…that is where the Tridiamond is hiding. It’s a diamond-shaped object made of wood. The magical stones are missing…” The sweat trickled down his brow.

 “How do I find the stones?”

 Peter rolled around in agony. He clutched at his throat and made high-pitched sounds like a wolf. He managed to meet her gaze one last time. “There are three quests you must complete…” He panted. “If you can successfully finish the challenges, then a gemstone will appear in the Tridiamond. When you have possession of all three, you will be strong enough to take on the sorcerer. If you can defeat him…” He clawed viciously at the ground. He let out a loud howl and his body slowly turned into a hairy black beast.

 “What happens?” she cried.

His voice deepened. “The spell will be broken and I’ll return to normal.”

Leslie watched in shock as his hands transformed into sharp claws. “How am I supposed to win the challenges? I don’t have any fighting skills or magical powers!”

“She will help you.” Peter glanced up and revealed a set of pointed fangs. His eyes turned a hideous yellow and his body changed into a wild animal. A large bushy tail swished briskly back and forth.

“Who will help me?”

 “Run away!” he warned. “I’m not human anymore!” He let out a low growl.

Magic tended to come through the world softly, like a whisper. Most people were incapable of hearing it. Not so with Lillian. She heard it very clearly. The soft sound swept over her, even in the rainstorm that now soaked her clothes and left her hair plastered to her head. Standing in the maelstrom, she didn’t move, only let the whisper come over her. It tickled slightly, words, images mingling around her body. It was more than sound, more than thought. It was a whisper left on the skin, with breath warm, soft and light.

She closed her eyes and listened harder. A door opened somewhere in the atmosphere. She felt the power switch between the worlds and she knew where the magic had sprouted. With her own focus, she sought a clearer image of who’d breached the passage between worlds. She saw no face, but a message was clear.
He’s coming.

I fell in love with Sarah Cruz on a Friday night. She had dirt on her face and her clothes were ripped, but she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I didn't intend to. If you want to get right down to it, I didn't even choose to. It was earlier in the night when she sang that my heart opened to her with such a force that I could feel the layers of a perfectly crafted wall falling away. It wasn't the beautiful words she sang or the expert way she played the piano, it was her soul. Her soul that she bared so freely for everyone to see. I was so surprised by the emotions that I left, thinking I needed to clear my head but I couldn't go far. I waited for her and that's when I saw him. He was a vampire, of that I was certain. I could smell him. He was walking behind her and all I could think about was how empty my life would be without her, this person I had known for such a short time, this person who had become the focus of my every thought. It was in that moment that I knew, as long as my life perpetuated against this cold night, as long as I drew a breath, no harm would come to her.

I daydreamed and stared out the window above the sink, but too many things twirled in my head to concentrate on anything specific.

I shivered as a chill flashed across the back of my neck and I spun around.

Demetri stood right behind me, his cool breath poured down the back of my neck. Glaring at me, he didn't speak or respond to my startled reaction. He held his empty wine glass and I moved back as he leaned around me to put it in the sink. The gentle brush of his arm against my side made me woozy and my stomach flip-flopped.

"I... I didn't see you there."

"You didn't hear me either."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me. I'm not the one at risk because you aren't paying attention. You are," he declared with a cold matter-of-fact tone.

"I, um... I'm not used to everything yet."

"I know that, but still, you should have developed the most basic survival skills within the first twenty-four hours."

His intense stare bore through me and filled me with a mix of fear and defensive instincts.

"I fed within the first few moments, even though I was alone."

"A reptile can do that, Stray," he hissed.

His hostility stirred something deep in the pits of my gut.

"A reptile can be lethal at birth, too," I snarled back at the unwarranted insult.

His eyes widened.

I couldn't believe I'd snapped at the magnificent creature.

"Is that so?" He growled.

"Ye--"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hand come at me. I deflected the blow, but he grabbed my arm and spun me away from him. He twisted and pinned it taut behind my back. Demetri pushed against me hard, his head bent over my shoulder. I watched his reflection in the windowpane as he growled in my ear. I was trapped.

"You're such a child," he snarled. "You won't last long if you can't predict when and where an attack may come."

"I don't plan on putting myself in a position to need protection."

He loosened his grip, but didn't release me. "With that scent, Stray, you won't have a choice."

I trembled at the thought that flashed through my mind of Quinton and what Porscha said about him tracking me to claim his creation. A profound shiver of fear rushed through me like a roller coaster.

"Quinton," I whispered.

He jerked me around, grasped my shoulders and almost lifted me off the ground. I winced, prepared for another attack.

"What did you say?" He hissed. His stone cold black eyes locked onto mine with a sinister gaze. I was terrified.

"I...I said Quinton."

"What about Quinton?" He moved his snarling face close to my neck area and inhaled deep. His breath was cold. Although his scent was like nothing I'd ever smelled before, my instinct to survive was more prevalent than my urge to succumb to him.

"I don't know who I am, my memory's gone." I began to explain. "Porscha said there was a possibility my creator may have been Quint--"

He pushed me back and rubbed his jaw. Tension radiated from him. "Are you saying that Porscha thinks it was Quinton who..." His voice trailed off as he paced and stared at the floor.

"She doesn't know and I can't remember anything from that night at all."

I calmed a bit, as he came across more concerned with what I said than he was about me in general.

"Nothing? You remember nothing?"

"I don't even know my name, hence the nickname Stray." Sarcasm returned to my voice. I had a natural urge to remain guarded in his presence.

"Oh, right." He looked up. "Well, if he is...and I'm not saying that he is, you're going to have a fight on your hands."

"I never thought it would really come to that. I guess so much has happened, he slipped my mind." I stepped forward, but he moved back with his jaw clenched.

"You can't ever forget the danger. Being a vampire doesn't make you immune to death." He spoke in a quieter voice, but his gaze remained distant.

I thought of his wife and hoped he hadn't realized I knew how she'd died. It felt like an invasion of privacy. I slowly lowered the wall for a moment, as he appeared so vulnerable.

"I understand. I'll be careful." I promised. I meant it but at the same time, I was no match for a thousand year old vampire sure to have powers like nothing I could fathom.

"You must learn, Stray. You may not have time to wait for skills to develop."

"How?" I didn't even know what my instincts were much less to understand and act.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I guess, if Porscha plans to keep you, I could show you a few things." He ran his fingers through his neatly kempt hair. "I'm not saying it'll keep you alive, but maybe it'll help." The tension eased a bit, but remained noticeable.

"If he's my creator, is it even possible for me to resist him if I can't escape?"

His eyes cut away for a second, as though he pondered the question, then much to my delight, his gaze returned to me. "The best scenario would be to make sure you never come face to face with him. That would be best for everyone."

"That would be nice. Thank you, Demetri."

"Don't thank me yet."

Beauty radiated from him. Even through his anger and the way he'd lashed out, I sensed an unquestionable connection. He was like no man I'd ever imagined. I didn't have my memory, but the inexplicable feeling was deeper than any memory could be.

He could very well be everything I thought he was the first moment I'd laid eyes on him, possibly much more. I hoped he continued to come around so I could figure out what it was about him that got to me.

Somehow, I thought I saw something he may not have wanted anyone to see. I didn't know what it was, but my attraction was undeniable.

Although unrequited, it didn't lessen the flutter of butterflies swarming in my stomach. It was apparent, the more I was around him the closer I came to losing myself.

Whatever the risk, loss, discovery or outcome, life as a vampire was my reality and I began to embrace it without much effort.

Terrified and perhaps even angry about the unknown events that led to my creation, for the first time I saw a silver lining as the tides appeared to turn in my favor. Who would have thought that the cold glare of a man I didn't even know could affect me in such a profound way? I couldn't help it, I liked it.

The wild sounds and sights of the nightclub were lost to Max as she followed Tabby and the stranger out of the rear fire door. The darkness of the alley blinded her for a moment until her rapidly blinking eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

There. In the shadows behind a dumpster, she heard a breathy giggle from Tabby followed by a harsh squeak. It was the squeak that demanded action.

Max looked around and grabbed a chunk of wood from the alleyway. "Oy, jackass, get your face off my cousin!"

The stranger had his mouth on Tabby's neck and the whites of her eyes were showing with pain. He didn't move and Tabby whined softly.

With her hands clenched on the wood, she swung at his shoulder and knocked him three feet away from Tabby.

"What do you think you are doing, cow?" His snarl displayed bloody lips and teeth that glowed eerily in the darkness.

"Getting you away from her, ass hat." She was holding the wood like a broadsword.

"You don't want to do that." His eyes glowed a creepy green and she felt a tugging, like she didn't actually want to do whatever she was thinking about.

Before she could track his movement, he grabbed her and shoved her up against the wall, his fangs gleaming in the darkness. Fangs? What the hell? His hand covered her mouth as he swooped in to bite her neck and she did what came naturally.

With all her power, she closed her teeth on his hand and tore a chunk of skin off his palm. Blood spilled into Max's mouth and her jaw was held so tightly she couldn't spit. He was gnawing at her neck, but he couldn't do more than scratch the surface, her choker prevented him from getting a solid grip.

Strength born from fear and fury helped her push him off, but the damage was done. He had tasted her blood and she had gulped his. With a snarl, he ran down the alley, leaving Max bent over trying to wretch, her cousin sitting nearby with her hand pressed to her neck.

"Tabby, are you all right?"

"He bit me. He really bit me."

Max groaned and helped her cousin to her feet. The club exit was not accessible from the alley, so Max walked them to her car. Tucking her cousin into the passenger seat, she winced at the mess of blood and torn flesh that was her neck.

With her mouth tight, she got behind the wheel and started her car.

Tabby's voice was soft, helpless. "He bit me, Max."

She gunned the engine and announced grimly, "Don't worry, Tabby. I bit him back."

As she stood watching, the door to the house opened slanting a yellow beam onto the porch. A slender man walked from the entrance into the moonlit night. She could feel another chill settling over her. It looked as if he was heading straight for their cabin.

"We're letting our imagination run wild," Carol admitted before she joined Lacy near the window. When she bent her head to look out into the yard, her eyes widened in surprise. Her gaze followed the man as he got closer. "Do you know him, Lace?"

Lacy could feel a shudder race through Carol's arm as it brushed against hers.

"I don't have the slightest idea who he is." Her tone sounded muffled as a splash of fear seized her.

Lacy found she couldn't look away. Her eyes were drawn like a magnet to the slow moving silhouette. The man headed straight for the door of their cabin, and as he drew closer, Lacy felt her stomach knot up inside.

"He does look a little like Norman Bates," Carol's words trailed off as they heard the gravel beneath the stranger's feet outside the door. "Do you believe in reincarnation? That could be him and he's come to get rid of us."

"Carol, will you be quiet? You're doing a good job of scaring me to death." A hard knock sounded on the door and both girls jumped in alarm.

 "Well, he's here," Carol squeaked out.

"I'll get it," Lacy volunteered in a trembling whisper. As she glanced over at Carol, she didn't miss the scared expression that covered her face combined with a white pinched appearance.

"I don't believe I can move an inch," Carol admitted in a shaky tone.

"Thanks," Lacy said, shaking her head over her foolish thoughts. "My parents are right next door if we need them. We can get their attention by tapping on the wall."

She figured they were just being silly about the entire situation. They didn't even know the identity of the man standing outside waiting for them to answer. There was only one way to find out who it was. Open the door and ask him his name.

"The birds hate Arthur," Beatrice said. "Peter and I laugh when the birds try to bite him."

"I'll bite him, if he doesn't stop throwing rocks at 'em," Gina said.

"They're ugly," Arthur replied. "All they do is pick at the dead fish and crap all over."

"So what?" Gina's patience wore thin and she groaned. "Do you expect them to defrag your computer? They're fricken birds!" She rolled over and pushed a folded towel under her head. "This is going to be one hell of a long summer. No boyfriend, no girlfriends, nothing but kids to watch."

"You're not watching me!" Arthur threw another rock, then ran up the stairs and disappeared over the ridge.

Beatrice grabbed a shovel and pail to take to the edge of the water. There she sat piling mounds of wet, brown sand into her bucket to make a sandcastle. Gina enjoyed the peace and quiet, while she and Peter lay on the blanket and read. Later, she and Beatrice looked for shells and beach glass while their brother swam.

After a couple of hours, Beatrice sat on the shore and the waves came up and covered her legs. Her singing caught Gina's attention. The words were barely audible at first, but something didn't sound right. She raised her head to listen, and the lyrics became clearer.

"Came from California to start anew.

My mom fooled around, yes it's true.

My daddy took a hammer, yes he did.

He used it on my mommy, while I hid."

It made her skin crawl. Dumbfounded, Gina sat and leaned on her elbow. "Beatrice, where did you learn that song?"

"My new friends."

"Don't sing that anymore. Why did they..."

"Gina!" Bea screamed. "There they are. There are my friends." She pointed up to the top and Gina quickly turned that way. On the edge of the hill stood two children, dressed as Peter had described.

Peter slowly moved toward Gina's blanket, spread out over the sand, and knelt next to her. Beatrice, on the other hand, moved closer to the incline and called up.

"Hello."

Speechless, Gina stared. Peter moved even closer and she put a protective arm around his shoulders.

The children didn't move. The wind blew their hair and clothing against their bodies, but they simply stared down, their faces as white as sheets.

Beatrice continued her greeting. "Do you want to go swimming with us? My sister will watch you. Go ask your mom."

Gina found her voice. "Bea, don't," she said quietly. "Come here."

Beatrice turned and looked at her sister and brother's faces. She stopped calling and moved closer to them. "What's the matter?" she asked in a whisper.

"Nothing, it's just that those kids are strange. I don't think you should play with them. If they ever come around and ask you, just say no."

The children continued staring down at them. Somewhat unnerved, Gina shivered.

A rush of wind whipped by and she turned her head. Black clouds filled the sky to the north.

"Gather everything up, guys. A storm's heading in." She stood and collected the books, snacks and sun block from her blanket and threw them into her bag, glancing occasionally at the strange kids.

"Let's head in."

They slowly made their way up the steps. Her sights on the children, Gina didn't want to blink lest they run and disappear. Once at the top, their odd behavior matched their attire.

"Where do you live?" Gina asked.

The tiny waifs simply stared at her.

Her impatience grew. "Go home. It's not safe to be here alone."

They continued to stand and gape at her.

"Did you hear me? You're on private property. Leave."

Beatrice ran up and put her arm around her sister's waist. "Don't be so mean to them, Gina." She smiled at the children. "Do you have a mommy and daddy?" Beatrice spoke in a concerned, saccharine-like voice.

The little girl raised her snow-white arm as if beckoning to them.

"Stop it." Gina grabbed Beatrice's shoulder. "Come with me."

Peter hung onto Gina's arm with a deathlike grip, but Beatrice trailed behind. Gina seized her hand and pulled her along.

Gina glanced back and they still stood there. "I'm calling the police!"

"Er--I'm looking for Re Hamadi," she told him.

He peered at her with an arched eyebrow, "You're lookin' for Re." It was a statement on his part rather than a question. "Now why would a pretty little thing like you be lookin' for an old dog like him?"

Chelsea blinked at him blankly for a brief moment before hauling in an impatient breath, "Yes. That's what I said. Is he here or not?"

The bartender shook his head and pointed to a man at the far end of the bar. He was looking up pensively at the television screen just across him.

'Thanks," she spat, tugging at the hem of her suit jacket. Lifting her chin, she walked over to him and cleared her throat. He didn't turn and once again, she cleared her throat. "You Re?"

"Depends on who's askin'," he still stared at the screen. "Ah come on, Ump! What was that!" he tossed his hands up before turning on his stool to face her.

He lounged backward with his elbows against the bar, a glass in one hand.

She bit back a gasp and tried to hide the stunned look on her face. He was absolutely breathtaking. His green eyes darkened at her.

He shoved long fingers through his long hair that had fallen into his face when he looked slightly down at her.

She took a reflexive step backward. "I'm Dr. Chelsea Morrigan," she told him. "I need to talk to you."

"Doctor, is it?" his voice was a slightly husky whisper.

There was a hint of an accent now--one she couldn't quite place. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a long swig.

"Never did like that term. Well, I guess since you won't be telling me to turn my head and cough, it should be alright. What's on your mind?"

"Can we talk somewhere else?" she wanted to know, shivering slightly. "We kinda need quiet."

His kissable lips tugged upward slightly at one corner and his eyes narrowed, "Lady, you don't need quiet to take advantage of this body. I'd give it to you anywhere."

Heat danced around Chelsea's cheeks. She could see him doing just that, too--on the hood of her car, against a wall, bent over the rail on a balcony--but she couldn't lose her head. She lifted her chin even higher, "That's not what I want to talk to you about. I just need about ten minutes of your time."

His eyes bore into her, his face expressionless and it felt like he stared at her for an eternity. Finally he slipped from the stool and dug in his pockets. Slamming money on the counter, he placed his glass atop it just before the long, black coat he wore flopped about his ankles. He glanced at the screen again and for a moment she thought he would send her away to watch his game.

"Alright we can talk outside," he told her. "That's the best I can do."

Chelsea nodded and turned for the door with a few of the bar's patrons whistling at her.

"Knock it off!" Re's voice thundered and instantly the men turned once more to whatever it was they had been doing.

She hurried through the doors and once fresh air hit her face, she inhaled greedily. Re found her with her face tilted upward, her eyes closed, hauling in air.

"What is it that was so damned important that you have to take me away from my game?"

"Your team was losing anyway," Chelsea's chin lifted.

"Well, you're taking me away from precious yelling at the screen time."

"Like I said, I'm Doctor Morrigan, an archaeologist--"

"Oh boy. I already don't like this conversation."

"Why is that?"

"Archaeologists have a damn nasty habit of sticking their noses where it doesn't belong--digging up things that should have been left buried--want me to continue?"

Chelsea groaned, wondering if she had made the right decision coming to find this man. Her mentor told her if anyone could help her find the book and not get killed in the process it was Re. With that thought, she reined in her temper and folded her arms across her chest, "My team and I were in Cairo last month at this dig. We were only allowed in if we showed them everything we found. But, ah--"

"You took something you shouldn't have and you didn't show it to them. Okay, look, lady, this would go a lot smoother and faster if you told me what you took and where it is."

Chelsea wanted to cry, "We took a book--"

He chuckled, but the mirth didn't reach his eyes. It was more of a sound of disbelief than a chuckle really, "What book?"

"Of Secrets--"

"The only book of secrets that I know that has anything to do with Egyptians is the--no one is that stupid!"

"Yes, but we didn't know how to open it. I was going to study it and bring it right back."

"So it was you?"

"You know about the stolen book?"

"Lady, there are very few things happening to the Bubasti that I don't know about. Where is the book now?"

"It was stolen--I don't know how it happened because it was under lock and key and I had the only key to it, but it's gone."

"You have got--" he stopped and sniffed.

Chelsea looked at him, wondering what grown man ever did that. He turned his head, his long hair dancing with his movement. She felt a little paranoid at him looking around and glanced over her shoulders before eying him, "You alright?"

"Do you have a number I can reach you?"

"Yes, why?"

He held out his hand.

Chelsea dug through her purse for a business card. She dropped it in his large palm.

"Now get in your car and go," he told her. His voice was calm with a hint of ice to it.

"Why?"

"Go now!"

Fear gripped her insides as she remembered what Chance had told her. She turned toward her vehicle. She was halfway to it when she saw him reach beneath his coat and pulled out what resembled a short staff. She wondered where that was before for she hadn't seen it while they were inside the pub. He did something and the staff instantly elongated. As she sped away, Chelsea glanced into her mirror and could have sworn she saw a rather large animal, leap from the dark at Re.

The tunnel was pressing on her, but she couldn't stop to enjoy the sensation of blind panic that it was engendering. Jenya sent her talent forward, inch by inch, eating away at the rock and dirt of the walls of her prison.

The prisoners who had followed her into the tunnel were now her prime concern. They trusted her to deliver them from the persecution of the Lekark regime and she was going to die trying.

Teachers, doctors, musicians--there were close to one hundred who agreed to follow her if she could bore a hole through the rock.

She inched forward and drew on her inner reserves to evaporate the rock. Jenya knew that her power was failing, but she couldn't trap them in here with her. She had to give everything she had if they were to make it out alive.

Jenya shoved herself right to the edge of the stone and blasted forward with furious intensity. She rode the adrenaline and did the same shockwave of power over and over until finally, after what felt like six hours of crawling, they struck daylight.

She fell out of the hole and tumbled to the ground. Hands grabbed her and pulled her aside. The light of day blinded her and she couldn't see who had a grip on her. If it was the polizai again, she was just going to let herself die.

A voice called to her, but it was far away. In the sun, finally free of the oppression that had almost taken her life, she looked into the daylight and let her mind relax.

A face blocked the sunlight. If she was dreaming of an escort to the afterlife, this face would not be the one she would pick. Braids banded with metal swung and clashed around his face. Silver eyes in a bronze face were the only celestial markers. The rest of him was all warrior and firmly grounded to the earth.

A light slap to her face got her to focus. "What?"

"Are you all right? Can you sit up?" The man seemed angry.

She sat up and her head spun. "I am up. But if you want me to dance, you are going to have to buy me a drink."

Jenya's eyes were shielded by the scowling wall of muscle at her side. She saw the endless dispensing of the escapees from the narrow hole in the side of the rock face. "We made it."

He looked down at her and kind warmth with a touch of pride filled his gaze. "Yes, Digger, you did."

"Can I sleep now?" She sighed. It would not be a sleep she wanted to return from. She had depleted herself entirely digging them out.

He nodded absently as someone caught his attention for the emerging folk.

She scooted so that she was leaning against the wall and relaxed. Just a little rest and it would all be over.

* * * *

The staging area was going nuts with the influx of ninety-four refugees and Vornan was trying to make sure that they all got the attention they needed.

Razer and Tech were in the process of attacking the totalitarian government that had taken over this minimally populated world, and the rebels that they were rescuing were already free.

"Razer, this is Flame. The majority of the rebels have been freed and are receiving medical attention." He waited for the double click that acknowledged and returned to attending the medical needs of those who had fallen out of the wall.

He went from cot to cot until finally a woman grabbed his arm. "How is Jenya?"

He checked the roster. There was no Jenya in the medical tent. "Who?"

"Jenya. She led us through the darkness. She made that tunnel as we went. It took so long." The woman's face was oddly clean. As what she had said sunk in, a chill ran through him. He looked around the room and noted that aside from some grass stains and dirt on hands and knees, their faces were clean.

"How long did you crawl through the tunnels?" He checked her vitals and the bandage on her wrist that seemed to be the most common injury.

"It was a dark forever, but I think it was somewhere between six and twelve hours."

"Was the tunnel already there?"

"No. I told you, Jenya made it as we went." She lay back and looked up at him with exhausted eyes, "Is she all right?"

He didn't answer, Helsin was on this assignment and he checked with the physician. "How long were they underground?"

"Based on pupil response and dehydration, two days. The investigations have shown that the tunnel is over six miles long."

Helsin may have said something else, but Flame was running.

She was slumped against the wall where he had left her, her body quiet and smudged with dirt. He had called her Digger as a joke, but as he searched her body for signs of life, he came to the conclusion he hadn't bothered to look for.

She had offered her life to free her people, and he had left her here to die.

"Dieter, wake up. It's time."

The long journey up from unconsciousness seemed to take forever. Was he fully awake? He couldn't tell. His brain seemed slow to respond, unwilling to deal with reality.

"Dieter, get up."

An unearthly glow back-lit a mass of curls. "Maggie?"

"It's me." She helped him into a sitting position.

"What's happening? I feel strange." There was light but it didn't seem to have a source. Like twilight or predawn but different. "Is it morning already?"

"Not quite, my dear." Maggie took him by the hand and led him outside. The grove glowed with a ghostly luminosity casting everything in high definition. The huge trees crowded the clearing, waiting, anticipating. She wore a simple white dress, a garland of green in her hair. Her face was radiant, her eyes opaque and charged with flecks of indigo. An aura exuded from her being.

"You look like a goddess."

"Come." Maggie glided across the clearing to the natural altar in the hollow of the massive trunk of the Western Red Cedar.

Steady and soft, the source of the light emanated from the interior of the tree without heat or shadow. Dieter found himself drawn to the light, like iron filings to a magnet. He had no will of his own. This is a dream, he thought, but had no desire to wake up.

Maggie painted a symbol on his chest. He didn't remember taking his shirt off. She pressed her cheek against his flesh and smiled up at him. She spoke now, but not to him.

"We ask for your blessings, your guidance, your inspiration, your healing power… Awen."

Dieter heard, then felt a droning, pleasant and soothing.

“…time and of the year, of seasons and goodness, of birth and growing, of dying and rebirth…" Maggie sprinkled water from a cup on his head.

The droning grew, intensified.

Maggie lifted a clay pot of fragrant herbs beneath his nose. The aroma evoked some ancient memory, indistinct yet familiar. She continued speaking with a lilt and a rhythm as if reciting a psalm "…in the eye of the Sun here and now, between past and future. In this is sacred time. In this is sacred space. Awen. Ahh-oo-en."

The droning became a harmonious swelling chord all around him and, yes, even inside him.

"…the longest day of the year, at this Place of Light, to witness the zenith of the Sun, to harness the power of the Solstice."

Simultaneously the light and the sound began to pulse in rhythm to his breathing, to his heartbeat. Outlines became diffused and images blurred. Dieter had the sensation of his own body disintegrating, merging with the trees, the earth, the air, until it was all one, all one liberating life force.

An overwhelming feeling of wellbeing enveloped him. He felt purified, cleansed - physically as well as spiritually. A wonderful peace accompanied an intimate feeling of understanding, of belonging, of being connected. I'm dying, he thought, but felt no fear. Instead he embraced the mystery as consciousness eluded him.

We made our way back before sunrise. I couldn't wait to see if it was as breathtaking as the sunset. Demetri went in the house to get us some wine and I sat alone on the porch enjoying the peaceful night. The low murmuring of the cattle in the distance kept a slow rhythm in the air like a tribal song.

I appreciated the tranquility, but was tired and wanted to see the miraculous sun make its entrance before going upstairs to sleep.

As I leaned on the rail, an unexpected movement snared my attention. Something was in the bushes just off the side of the house. At first, I wasn't sure what it was so I sauntered to the end of the porch. I caught his scent before I saw him.

Connor watched from the shadows.

Acting as though I hadn't seen him, I walked around to the opposite end of the porch. The instant I was sure I was out of his sight, I snuck around the house, moving with great vampire speed and stopped just behind him. He had no idea I was there. Folding my arms across my chest, I cleared my throat.

He jumped, startled, and the color from his face drained into an instant pallor. His heart pounded in his chest, echoing in my ears.

"What are you doing here, Connor?" I whispered, trying to prevent Demetri from knowing he was spying.

"I had to see you."

"What? Why?"

"I had to come before daylight. I needed to see for myself." He stood up straight and looked me in my eyes, assuming a bold stance. "I know what you are," he said through clenched teeth.

My insides contorted much like the last time I was near him. "What do you mean by that?" Don't jump to conclusions.

"I saw them when I was a boy. They didn't know I was there, but I saw," he continued. "Mr. Bastian, and his brother, I--I saw them kill a kangaroo and drink its blood. I never told anyone, not even my father."

My first thought was confirmed. "You don't know what you saw. You were confused or perhaps you dreamt it. Now, go home before he sees you and tells your father." I scrambled to rebuff his announcement.

I spun on my heel and headed back the way I'd snuck up. Demetri wouldn't like this news.

"You can have some if you want," he blurted.

I stopped, dead in my tracks. A sharp pinch nipped at the back of my neck, as a nervous though thrilling chill skittered across my skin. I turned to face him.

He peeled back the collar of his shirt with a trembling hand, offering his pulsating vein and eased toward me. "I was willing back on the road. I knew you wanted me then, I felt it. I'm yours if you still want me," he added with a slight crack in his voice.

Sensing his offer had a definite double meaning I stepped closer and leaned in. His scent was so very tempting, even though I'd just had my fill from the hunt. I couldn't help myself and splayed my fingers around his throat, mesmerized by the throbbing vein beneath my touch. I squeezed it just enough to feel the pressure build. Slow and easy, I pushed him against the side of the house, pressing my body into his. His breathing increased and the blood pumped harder and faster underneath my fingertips, sweetening with each passing pulse.

He swallowed hard and moved his hands around my waist, his hot breath cascaded down my neck and back.

I inhaled his scent and slid the tip of my nose across his cheek memorizing his sweetness. Soft stubble scratched my skin. I put my mouth to his ear. Easing the edge of my tongue between my lips, the subtle flavor of salt and a heady blast of eucalyptus mixed with honey infiltrated my mouth. My arms trembled as his essence seeped into my mind. "Connor, I want you--," I whispered as the pressure began to grow into an uncomfortable ache, "--to go home." I pushed his face away and stepped back, struggling against my very nature to refuse the offer.

"But--"

"No buts. This isn't a game and you can't play like that. Do you understand me?"

No matter how tempting the offer, I couldn't allow myself to be as weak as I'd been on the road when we first arrived. "I don't know what you're thinking, but this is a very dangerous path you're walking on here, kid. More dangerous than you could ever imagine, so you better keep it to yourself and forget it," I demanded.

"I'm not a kid," he snapped. "And, I know exactly what I'm offering. I'm not afraid of you. My offer stands anytime you want or need me." His jaw tightened.

I rushed toward him, boiling with threatening intent, and growled, pinning him against the side of the house.

His nostrils flared and his breathing deepened, but he didn't back down. He braced himself against the house and used it to lean into me. The piercing glare of his eyes narrowed with determination, in direct contrast to the tremble he tried so hard to suppress.

Eyeing him, surprised, I pulled back. "You're not afraid of me?"

"No. I'm not. You won't hurt me. It's… it's not in you. It's not in them either." His glance darted toward the house as though referring to Demetri and Saul. "I can see that."

A dozen reactions flashed in my mind. Which one would deter his intentions was anyone's guess. I searched his eyes hoping for a sign of weakness. None was to be found. "Go home, Connor, and we can forget this ever happened, okay?"

He made me uncomfortable enough as it was, and his strength and fortitude worried me. He may have been too bold for his own good. He wouldn't convince me to cross any lines, but the perseverance in his voice told me he wasn't going to stop trying either.

"I'll be back, Sydney," he vowed backing away into the darkness.

I waited a moment to collect myself, but still couldn't get the tone of his voice out of my mind. I leapt onto the porch hoping I'd beat Demetri back to the swing.

He eased outside, looking at me through the screen door. "Were you talking to someone?"

I raised my eyebrows and bit my bottom lip, shaking my head no. I didn't speak because if I had he would have caught my lie in an instant. As I was learning, sometimes there were ways around our gift.

Had I handled Connor the right way or not? Should I say something or see if he decides to back off? I'd mention it if he became more of a problem than I could deal with.

"I must be getting old," he teased.

I chuckled at his charming humor.

"I know you're looking forward to day break, but we'll be here a long time. I have something special for you if you'll agree to wait a little longer for your sunrise."

I joined him by the door, curious, and snuggled under his arm. "What's my surprise?" I loved surprises, well good ones anyway. Goodness knows I'd had more than my share of bad ones. Whatever it was didn't matter, as long as it took my mind off Connor.

"Follow me."

He led me upstairs and as we reached the second floor, he placed his hand over my eyes, and guided me into a room I hadn't had time to explore. The scent of lavender permeated through the air.

He removed his hand and we stood in the bathroom. In the center sat a giant antique claw-foot tub filled with steaming hot water and floating lavender petals. Where did he manage to find those? The room was lit with elegant candles. Romantic nuances, so thick, they sparked tingles of warmth that saturated my body.

Draped across a chair was a white silk negligee and matching robe. He'd thought of everything a man would need to seduce a woman. He didn't need any of that, but the effort was appreciated.

"Oh, Demetri, it's perfect." I beamed. "Are you joining me?"

"I thought you'd never ask," he replied already undressing. I followed suit and slid into the water. He slipped in behind, wrapped his arms around me and kissed the back of my neck.

I was in heaven.

He reached for an elegant ceramic pitcher on an antique stand next to the bathtub, filled it with hot water and poured it over me. He then sprinkled the contents from a glass bottle into the palm of his hand, and applied it to my wet hair. To my delight, he lathered my hair with an aromatic shampoo. Breathing in the delicate fragrance, I sighed with contentment. His massaging fingers sent clusters of gooseflesh across my skin.

If I hadn't been before, I was now convinced that forgiving Demetri for creating me was the best decision I'd ever made. As if I had a choice.

"Are you happy?" He whispered, his soft lips tickling my ear.

"Very." I sighed and leaned my head back against his chest.

I'm not sure when I fell asleep. I missed the sunrise and the rest of the bath, but I was so content for the first time in a long while, life couldn't have been better.

The fact that I was happier than I'd ever recalled, as though the planets had aligned in my world, should have been my first clue. In my world, things were never as they should be and if they were, then they wouldn't be for long.

Dolphins chased the ship, frolicking in the waves. A few whales came up close, attracted by the magical vibrations the ship was giving to the water. She shook her head and let the wind play with her hair, the blue strands lifting and mimicking the waves.

"Are you thinking of jumping in, Haily?" Her mother came up behind her, sipping at her own drink.

"Of course not, Mom. You know I wasn't allowed swimming lessons."

"There were reasons, Haily. Underwater shockwaves could have killed other swimmers nearby. You know how unpredictable your talent is."

"Yes, Mom. I know." Of course, she knew. It was the binding rule of Haily's existence. She was one step away from being locked up by the ruling councils every single day. It was difficult to live with since she was never allowed to forget it.

Her mother's voice dropped to a whisper. "Thank you for coming, Haily. April, May and June might meet the men for them on this cruise."

"I know. And it's why I am here. This is the time of the year to focus on family, isn't it?"

Morag chuckled and gave her daughter a one-armed hug. "Thank you for understanding."

"I understand, Mom. Better than anyone can guess. All for the family, that is my motto."

Her mother faded back into the social scene and when the sun began to set, Haily returned to the party as dinner began to appear on the buffet.

She sat with her parents and their friends as her sisters took up positions with men of similar ages and power levels. A few brave souls tried to engage her in conversation, but as soon as they asked her if she was seeing anyone, the chill in the air could have frozen them in place.

The party began to roar after dinner when more alcohol and a number of magical beverages came out. Morag winced at the noise when the music kicked off and leaned over, "Haily, can you watch them? Make sure that they get to bed alone?"

She turned to look at her sisters, one blonde and two brunettes. "I will watch them. But if I have to blast their butts into bed, I will."

Eduard shuddered and patted her shoulder. "If you must, you must. Have a nice night, Hail." He pressed a kiss on her forehead and patted her on the shoulder again.

He always called her Hail. It was his way of rubbing it in to her mother that he had been allowed to name their firstborn after the weather on the day she was born. He wanted to name April Sunny, but he had been vetoed and had to be satisfied that he got Hail in. She was the moment of her father's triumph and every time he said her name, she knew it.

She watched them wander off, arms around each other as they returned to their room for some…lord, she did not want to think about it. Parents having sex was creepy at any age.


The party was in full swing and like dozens of magical parties before, some of the morons started showing off with light displays and flashes of power.

Haily's sisters were slow dancing, making out with a young wizard and raiding the dessert bar respectively. They would be safe for a few minutes while she caught some fresh air.

The waves were dark and threatening, but under the dancing lights of the cruise ship, they looked miles away.

"How am I going to plan a life when I can't even be trusted among my own family?"

Her words were answered by a drunken magus inside screaming, "Watch this!"

She turned to look into the party to see what he was referring to and was struck in the chest by a rainbow-hued fireball and thrown into the silent waves.

"What's it like…to die? Is it scary or painful?"

Endel furrowed his brows, thinking. No, not at all. It's…I don't know how to say it…wondrous.

"Is there a bright light? Or some kind of tunnel?"

I didn't see one. Not yet anyway. Maybe that's why I haven't gone on.

"Did you get to see your friends and family that died before you?"

No. I've been too busy watching over you, young lady.

"Have you seen…God?"

Endel turned over so he could look into her eyes. There are some things that you can't know yet, Kate. You'll find out all the answers when it's your time.

She scowled.

Kate…all I can tell you is that you don't have to be afraid. Death is the end of the life you know now, but it's only the beginning of another journey. There's a gradual understanding that was never possible in this life. The answers to all the questions you ever wondered about.

"So, now you know what really happened to Amelia Earhart?"

He laughed. Did anyone ever tell you what a nut you are?

"Not since you left." She put her arms around his neck and snuggled against him.

I love you, Kate.

His mouth was only inches from hers and she wondered if he would kiss her. Her bottom lip quivered. "I love you, too."

Lying beside him she realized how stiff, dry and cold she had become. Was it her heart, her soul or her body? She wasn't sure.

He pulled her so close that she felt she was a part of him. She slowly grew warmer. Her muscles relaxed and she felt almost…soft. Every inch of her body was alive and tingling. A thousand memories of their lovemaking flooded her mind simultaneously. Her heart pounded. She had no idea it was possible to feel so much pleasure at one time. It made her delirious. The void that yearned for Endel every night when she lay in her bed alone was gone. So engulfed in her passion, she was unable to move or speak. Tiny sparkles of light cascaded down on her like a gentle rain. She was glowing warmly, as she felt her own spirit mesh with his.

Every sound and smell she ever delighted in filled the room. She was surrounded by the scents of lavender, honeysuckle, baby powder, and Endel's cologne. She heard the sounds of rain, waterfalls, ocean waves, and children laughing. What had to be a heavenly orchestra played all her favorite music. Each and every note reverberated her very core.

She felt as though she were standing naked under a waterfall of liquid cashmere. It swirled around her body like a soft caress. She saw the shadow of her soul illuminated by a sea of scented candles, glowing softly against a midnight sky. Spent and satiated, she finally fell asleep in his arms.