Rising Darkness
Page 21
New questions crowded her mind. She shoved them aside. He was right—she was using strength she could ill afford to lose. She could ask questions later.
She moved away from Michael, the gas station and the parking lot, until she stood in a clear wide space of field. Even with the sun-filled space around her she could hear whispers and rustlings. Dark things flitted at the edge of her vision, but she could sense that none of them quite dared to draw close in the full light of morning. Not yet.
She faced the eastern sky. The first tip of radiance appeared above the horizon. She caught her breath as she found she could stare at the sun full-on. Then as her centuries-dead Asian teacher had once instructed her, she called a long lyrical, physically unpronounceable name.
Then she waited. Michael, her body and a growing collection of furtive dark creatures in the psychic realm waited as well. After several moments her bright and eager hope started to dim. She became aware of her waning energy and their increasing danger, all of which she had gambled in this desperate foolish experiment.
Goddammit Mary, Michael roared. Come back.
She shook her head. No.
Whatever you tried didn’t work.
Just a little longer, she gasped. Her astral presence began to flicker.
Come back now!
A hollow boom sounded as he threw his shoulder against the restroom door. He stepped back and began to kick it in.
She was about to admit defeat and return to her body when something far-off snagged her attention. She had the sense of an archaic being lifting its head to look in her direction.
A tremendous power shot toward her. It came from an impossible distance, moving with the speed of a lightning bolt. Even though she had left her physical body behind, her astral projection fell to its knees. The gathering of dark creatures hissed and fled.
The dragon flew across the rose and gold of the dawn. Her spirit leaped at the sight of its immense, undulating body and a wingspan that draped the sky. A creature of pure elemental energy, it was one of the monarchs of Earth’s psychic realm. It plummeted to land before her. Then it raised its huge lion’s head and regarded her with an ancient, tranquil eye.
She bowed her head. Honored One, this unworthy person’s heart is full of gratitude that you chose to answer her humble request.
Celestial Daughter, said the dragon. Its voice was a bell that shook the bones of the world. You have slept long and long. And you bleed.
This person will cease to exist unless someone wise in the arts of the realms should honor her with healing. Her astral presence trembled from the strain of being so long away from her body. She abandoned formal speech as she gazed up, into that swirling, alien eye. Our group owes a debt to this world that has not yet been paid, she gasped. I would not want to leave . . . without paying it. I thought you might help . . . for the love of my old teacher who was once your friend. . . .
I would for the memory of my old friend, and that would be reason enough, said the dragon in a gentle voice. But I would also help for love of the memory of your brightness that has now grown so dim. Come.
The dragon scooped her up in massive, gnarled claws and bent over her. Feeling cradled in a strength that was as old as time, she abandoned all strain, all fear and pain, and rested in total trust.
Then the dragon breathed on her.
She plunged into a deep pool of lava. Her entire being caught on fire. The pain was a horrific, immeasurable shock. After the first few moments it also felt necessary, as it purified, strengthened and nourished her energy rather than destroyed.
Poisons, injuries and old soul scars smoothed away. Something in her that had been crippled long ago straightened gently into place.
When she had been burned to an essence beyond form, thought or words, the dragon stopped. Still she kept glowing, but it was no longer in gouts of uncontrollable, hemorrhaging energy. Now she glowed with a healthy bright color like a new-minted coin.
She had a dim awareness of Michael approaching with her body in his arms. He and the dragon spoke to each other, but she did not try to understand their exchange. Then the dragon deposited her back into her physical self.
Her head lolled. She managed to crack open her eyes. Michael held her against his chest, supporting her upper body while her legs sprawled on the ground. With her psychic sense, she could see the dragon looking down at her. Not yet capable of words, she pressed a hand over her heart in a silent gesture of thanks.
Now you are as you were meant to be, Daughter of the Sun, said the dragon.
Before either she or Michael could say anything, it launched with a forcefulness that buffeted them to the ground. When it winged away, the trees in the nearby forest bent and swayed as though from a violent wind.
She lay limp in the circle of Michael’s arms, at first too replete and weak to move. She had forgotten the simple miracle of feeling whole.
She had, in fact, never known the feeling in this life. Tears spilled down her face. A muscle in Michael’s lean jaw worked. He turned from watching the dragon’s flight to press his lips against her forehead. His arms were clenched so tightly on her, she could feel his heart beating, too fast, as if he had been running for miles.
She looked up at him with pity and thought, he doesn’t remember that he killed me.
Chapter Seventeen
MICHAEL KNELT ON the ground and held Mary, her head cradled in the crook of one arm as he stared into her eyes. They were as beautiful as the rest of her, jeweled and bright, a vivid, aquamarine blue. She gazed back at him, her expression grave, even compassionate, although he did not understand why she would look at him like that.
She was a game changer. This was a game changer.
He became aware that he gripped her too tightly again. He clutched at her as if he were afraid she might melt into nothing. He forced his arms to loosen.
She gave him a small, tentative smile. “It’s better now, isn’t it?”
He ran a hand down her slim torso, probing mentally at her energy. To his careful scrutiny, she felt burnished and whole. She felt magnificent. Sharp terror for her had spiked then vaporized, leaving behind a vast, dizzying void that made his ears ring.
He whispered, “It’s so much better now.”
She put a hand over his as it rested on her flat abdomen. “They can’t trace me like this anymore, can they?”
“No, they can’t,” he said. “You’re no longer shining like a beacon in the psychic realm, which means our day just got much better.” He lifted his head to study the field and the nearby buildings, frowning.
Her smile vanished. She sat up, out of his arms, and looked around too. “Then what’s wrong?”
“You know how I said there are predators in the psychic realm?” He glanced down at her. “Some have gathered around, hoping to feed, but they can’t hurt you now. Still, we need to leave this place.”
She struggled to get to her feet. Her movements were slow and clumsy, and it was clear that she was hurting. The dragon’s healing had been purely psychic, so she still retained all the physical soreness from her earlier injuries. Before he thought about it, he slipped an arm around her and lifted her upright.
She gave him another guarded glance, murmuring thanks. Why did she look at him like that?
His head was splitting. The pain was so bad it made his eyes throb. Despite the fact that she had changed the game, and they were no longer in quite the imminent danger of discovery that they had been, the sense of an oncoming crisis crushed down on him. He shook his head to try to clear it, to expand his senses to check their immediate surroundings. It was a mistake, and it made his head pound worse than before.
He managed to say, “Get in the car. I’ll be right there.”
She hesitated and looked as if she were about to say something. Then she must have changed her mind, because she limped toward the car without a word.
Changing the game. Changing everything.
I don’t know you and Astra any longer, she had said. And I’ll be responsible for my own healing.
Grimly he went into station to pay for the gas and buy yet more coffee, along with a travel packet of pain reliever. He tore the packet open with his teeth and dry swallowed the pills before scooping up the coffee cups and pushing through the door.
Mary’s declaration was an outright statement of distrust. He couldn’t blame her. What she said, after all, was only the truth.
But how would Astra respond to Mary’s unpredictability, or her rejection of reliance on either one of them?
* * *
MARY CLIMBED BACK into the passenger seat of the car, still trembling and moving with care. She watched Michael step outside the station with two disposable cups. His expression was set in bleak lines, the skin around his eyes tight.
When he climbed in the driver’s seat, she held her hand out for her coffee. She said, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” He didn’t look at her as he started the car, glanced around and pulled onto the road.
“For what I said about you and Astra.” She sipped the steaming hot liquid and lifted her eyebrows. The filthy little gas station produced a delicious cup of joe. Who knew?
“You only spoke the truth. You don’t know Astra or me any longer.” His voice was toneless. He was back to the stoicism of the soldier survivor. The car sped up to the speed limit and held steady.
She fastened the lid back on her cup. No matter how good it was, she couldn’t face another swallow of coffee. Then she put a hand on his thigh. Under the covering of his jeans, his powerful muscle tightened at her touch. “What I said was only one version of truth, which can sometimes be as hurtful and misleading as a lie. I trust you.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t.” His expression remained closed, harsh.
“Maybe I didn’t,” she said. “But I do now. Or at least I trust you far more than I did a few hours ago. But we’ve still had a long separation, and we’ve all changed. We need to get reacquainted with each other, with who we are right now.”
There was a pause. He drank coffee and watched the road. “How are you feeling?”
“Indescribable,” she said. She stretched and took a deep breath. “I feel clean and straight, like everything inside me has come right again, even things I didn’t know were damaged. This might sound funny, but I’ve defined myself through a sense of being injured or incomplete for so long that I’m not sure who I am without it.” After a pause, she said, “The dragon helped with my memory too.”
His gaze shot to her. “Do you remember any more about the past?”
She chose her words with care. “The dragon didn’t help bring back everything, but I remember bits and pieces. Some of my recurring dreams were from the life when I was wounded. What he really did was to help clarify everything. I understand better now some of the things that have happened. I suppose if I want any memories from other lives, I’ll have to work at retrieving them like you did.”
“Tell me.” She heard buried in his quiet voice a desperate hunger. “I need to know what happened.”
“I will,” she replied. Her voice was as hushed as his. “I promise. But I’m not going to have that conversation with you while we’re on the road.”
His mouth tightened, and he rubbed his forehead as if it hurt. “It’s too important to wait.”
Why did he feel such urgency? Was he close to remembering for himself? She didn’t want him to recover those memories when he was behind the wheel of the car.
“If that’s so, then we need to find a safe place to stop,” she said steadily. “We need real rest and real, nutritious food. I have no idea what happened to you before you caught up with me, but you had to have expended a lot of energy to find me.”
His reply was slow in coming. “I did.”
“I’m not surprised,” she said. “I don’t know about you, but I need recovery time. I worked a twenty-six-hour ER shift, and after that, there’s been one crisis or epiphany after another. Half-hour naps on the run aren’t helping. Coffee isn’t doing a thing for me anymore. It’s just making my stomach hurt. My body has had the crap kicked out of it, I ache all over and I’ve had enough.”
He glanced at her in thoughtful assessment. She also didn’t like how he looked, but she didn’t mention that. A small vein throbbed at his temple. His gaze was too bright and somehow feverish, his expression stark. She wanted to put her fingers on his wrist and take his pulse.
“A game changer,” he muttered.
“What do you mean?”
“When you healed, you changed everything.” His chest moved as he took a deep breath. “We need to reunite with Astra before we fight him. We stand the strongest chance of winning if we’re all together. But you’re not traceable in the psychic realm any longer, and we’ve ditched your car. As long as nobody recognizes you, we can afford to pull off the main roads for a while.”
“We’ll both be better for it,” she said.
“Agreed.” Thoughts moved like shadows behind his eyes. “I know a place where we can stop. I go there as often as I can. It’s secluded and it should be safe enough. We can rest and talk there.”
“Are you still okay to drive? You look like you’re in pain.”
He covered her hand with his own larger one. “I’m fine. I just have a headache. No need to fuss.”
Her whole body reacted to his touch. She felt the rasp of calluses across the back of her knuckles, and she focused on the weight of his hand on hers. A self-conscious heat tinged her cheeks. She coughed. “If you think this is fussing, you don’t know fussing. This is self-preservation. I don’t want you to drive off the road. If I start fussing, you won’t be able to mistake it.”
A glint of amusement entered his overbright pewter gaze. “So you’re a talented fusser?”
She moved away from Michael, the gas station and the parking lot, until she stood in a clear wide space of field. Even with the sun-filled space around her she could hear whispers and rustlings. Dark things flitted at the edge of her vision, but she could sense that none of them quite dared to draw close in the full light of morning. Not yet.
She faced the eastern sky. The first tip of radiance appeared above the horizon. She caught her breath as she found she could stare at the sun full-on. Then as her centuries-dead Asian teacher had once instructed her, she called a long lyrical, physically unpronounceable name.
Then she waited. Michael, her body and a growing collection of furtive dark creatures in the psychic realm waited as well. After several moments her bright and eager hope started to dim. She became aware of her waning energy and their increasing danger, all of which she had gambled in this desperate foolish experiment.
Goddammit Mary, Michael roared. Come back.
She shook her head. No.
Whatever you tried didn’t work.
Just a little longer, she gasped. Her astral presence began to flicker.
Come back now!
A hollow boom sounded as he threw his shoulder against the restroom door. He stepped back and began to kick it in.
She was about to admit defeat and return to her body when something far-off snagged her attention. She had the sense of an archaic being lifting its head to look in her direction.
A tremendous power shot toward her. It came from an impossible distance, moving with the speed of a lightning bolt. Even though she had left her physical body behind, her astral projection fell to its knees. The gathering of dark creatures hissed and fled.
The dragon flew across the rose and gold of the dawn. Her spirit leaped at the sight of its immense, undulating body and a wingspan that draped the sky. A creature of pure elemental energy, it was one of the monarchs of Earth’s psychic realm. It plummeted to land before her. Then it raised its huge lion’s head and regarded her with an ancient, tranquil eye.
She bowed her head. Honored One, this unworthy person’s heart is full of gratitude that you chose to answer her humble request.
Celestial Daughter, said the dragon. Its voice was a bell that shook the bones of the world. You have slept long and long. And you bleed.
This person will cease to exist unless someone wise in the arts of the realms should honor her with healing. Her astral presence trembled from the strain of being so long away from her body. She abandoned formal speech as she gazed up, into that swirling, alien eye. Our group owes a debt to this world that has not yet been paid, she gasped. I would not want to leave . . . without paying it. I thought you might help . . . for the love of my old teacher who was once your friend. . . .
I would for the memory of my old friend, and that would be reason enough, said the dragon in a gentle voice. But I would also help for love of the memory of your brightness that has now grown so dim. Come.
The dragon scooped her up in massive, gnarled claws and bent over her. Feeling cradled in a strength that was as old as time, she abandoned all strain, all fear and pain, and rested in total trust.
Then the dragon breathed on her.
She plunged into a deep pool of lava. Her entire being caught on fire. The pain was a horrific, immeasurable shock. After the first few moments it also felt necessary, as it purified, strengthened and nourished her energy rather than destroyed.
Poisons, injuries and old soul scars smoothed away. Something in her that had been crippled long ago straightened gently into place.
When she had been burned to an essence beyond form, thought or words, the dragon stopped. Still she kept glowing, but it was no longer in gouts of uncontrollable, hemorrhaging energy. Now she glowed with a healthy bright color like a new-minted coin.
She had a dim awareness of Michael approaching with her body in his arms. He and the dragon spoke to each other, but she did not try to understand their exchange. Then the dragon deposited her back into her physical self.
Her head lolled. She managed to crack open her eyes. Michael held her against his chest, supporting her upper body while her legs sprawled on the ground. With her psychic sense, she could see the dragon looking down at her. Not yet capable of words, she pressed a hand over her heart in a silent gesture of thanks.
Now you are as you were meant to be, Daughter of the Sun, said the dragon.
Before either she or Michael could say anything, it launched with a forcefulness that buffeted them to the ground. When it winged away, the trees in the nearby forest bent and swayed as though from a violent wind.
She lay limp in the circle of Michael’s arms, at first too replete and weak to move. She had forgotten the simple miracle of feeling whole.
She had, in fact, never known the feeling in this life. Tears spilled down her face. A muscle in Michael’s lean jaw worked. He turned from watching the dragon’s flight to press his lips against her forehead. His arms were clenched so tightly on her, she could feel his heart beating, too fast, as if he had been running for miles.
She looked up at him with pity and thought, he doesn’t remember that he killed me.
Chapter Seventeen
MICHAEL KNELT ON the ground and held Mary, her head cradled in the crook of one arm as he stared into her eyes. They were as beautiful as the rest of her, jeweled and bright, a vivid, aquamarine blue. She gazed back at him, her expression grave, even compassionate, although he did not understand why she would look at him like that.
She was a game changer. This was a game changer.
He became aware that he gripped her too tightly again. He clutched at her as if he were afraid she might melt into nothing. He forced his arms to loosen.
She gave him a small, tentative smile. “It’s better now, isn’t it?”
He ran a hand down her slim torso, probing mentally at her energy. To his careful scrutiny, she felt burnished and whole. She felt magnificent. Sharp terror for her had spiked then vaporized, leaving behind a vast, dizzying void that made his ears ring.
He whispered, “It’s so much better now.”
She put a hand over his as it rested on her flat abdomen. “They can’t trace me like this anymore, can they?”
“No, they can’t,” he said. “You’re no longer shining like a beacon in the psychic realm, which means our day just got much better.” He lifted his head to study the field and the nearby buildings, frowning.
Her smile vanished. She sat up, out of his arms, and looked around too. “Then what’s wrong?”
“You know how I said there are predators in the psychic realm?” He glanced down at her. “Some have gathered around, hoping to feed, but they can’t hurt you now. Still, we need to leave this place.”
She struggled to get to her feet. Her movements were slow and clumsy, and it was clear that she was hurting. The dragon’s healing had been purely psychic, so she still retained all the physical soreness from her earlier injuries. Before he thought about it, he slipped an arm around her and lifted her upright.
She gave him another guarded glance, murmuring thanks. Why did she look at him like that?
His head was splitting. The pain was so bad it made his eyes throb. Despite the fact that she had changed the game, and they were no longer in quite the imminent danger of discovery that they had been, the sense of an oncoming crisis crushed down on him. He shook his head to try to clear it, to expand his senses to check their immediate surroundings. It was a mistake, and it made his head pound worse than before.
He managed to say, “Get in the car. I’ll be right there.”
She hesitated and looked as if she were about to say something. Then she must have changed her mind, because she limped toward the car without a word.
Changing the game. Changing everything.
I don’t know you and Astra any longer, she had said. And I’ll be responsible for my own healing.
Grimly he went into station to pay for the gas and buy yet more coffee, along with a travel packet of pain reliever. He tore the packet open with his teeth and dry swallowed the pills before scooping up the coffee cups and pushing through the door.
Mary’s declaration was an outright statement of distrust. He couldn’t blame her. What she said, after all, was only the truth.
But how would Astra respond to Mary’s unpredictability, or her rejection of reliance on either one of them?
* * *
MARY CLIMBED BACK into the passenger seat of the car, still trembling and moving with care. She watched Michael step outside the station with two disposable cups. His expression was set in bleak lines, the skin around his eyes tight.
When he climbed in the driver’s seat, she held her hand out for her coffee. She said, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” He didn’t look at her as he started the car, glanced around and pulled onto the road.
“For what I said about you and Astra.” She sipped the steaming hot liquid and lifted her eyebrows. The filthy little gas station produced a delicious cup of joe. Who knew?
“You only spoke the truth. You don’t know Astra or me any longer.” His voice was toneless. He was back to the stoicism of the soldier survivor. The car sped up to the speed limit and held steady.
She fastened the lid back on her cup. No matter how good it was, she couldn’t face another swallow of coffee. Then she put a hand on his thigh. Under the covering of his jeans, his powerful muscle tightened at her touch. “What I said was only one version of truth, which can sometimes be as hurtful and misleading as a lie. I trust you.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t.” His expression remained closed, harsh.
“Maybe I didn’t,” she said. “But I do now. Or at least I trust you far more than I did a few hours ago. But we’ve still had a long separation, and we’ve all changed. We need to get reacquainted with each other, with who we are right now.”
There was a pause. He drank coffee and watched the road. “How are you feeling?”
“Indescribable,” she said. She stretched and took a deep breath. “I feel clean and straight, like everything inside me has come right again, even things I didn’t know were damaged. This might sound funny, but I’ve defined myself through a sense of being injured or incomplete for so long that I’m not sure who I am without it.” After a pause, she said, “The dragon helped with my memory too.”
His gaze shot to her. “Do you remember any more about the past?”
She chose her words with care. “The dragon didn’t help bring back everything, but I remember bits and pieces. Some of my recurring dreams were from the life when I was wounded. What he really did was to help clarify everything. I understand better now some of the things that have happened. I suppose if I want any memories from other lives, I’ll have to work at retrieving them like you did.”
“Tell me.” She heard buried in his quiet voice a desperate hunger. “I need to know what happened.”
“I will,” she replied. Her voice was as hushed as his. “I promise. But I’m not going to have that conversation with you while we’re on the road.”
His mouth tightened, and he rubbed his forehead as if it hurt. “It’s too important to wait.”
Why did he feel such urgency? Was he close to remembering for himself? She didn’t want him to recover those memories when he was behind the wheel of the car.
“If that’s so, then we need to find a safe place to stop,” she said steadily. “We need real rest and real, nutritious food. I have no idea what happened to you before you caught up with me, but you had to have expended a lot of energy to find me.”
His reply was slow in coming. “I did.”
“I’m not surprised,” she said. “I don’t know about you, but I need recovery time. I worked a twenty-six-hour ER shift, and after that, there’s been one crisis or epiphany after another. Half-hour naps on the run aren’t helping. Coffee isn’t doing a thing for me anymore. It’s just making my stomach hurt. My body has had the crap kicked out of it, I ache all over and I’ve had enough.”
He glanced at her in thoughtful assessment. She also didn’t like how he looked, but she didn’t mention that. A small vein throbbed at his temple. His gaze was too bright and somehow feverish, his expression stark. She wanted to put her fingers on his wrist and take his pulse.
“A game changer,” he muttered.
“What do you mean?”
“When you healed, you changed everything.” His chest moved as he took a deep breath. “We need to reunite with Astra before we fight him. We stand the strongest chance of winning if we’re all together. But you’re not traceable in the psychic realm any longer, and we’ve ditched your car. As long as nobody recognizes you, we can afford to pull off the main roads for a while.”
“We’ll both be better for it,” she said.
“Agreed.” Thoughts moved like shadows behind his eyes. “I know a place where we can stop. I go there as often as I can. It’s secluded and it should be safe enough. We can rest and talk there.”
“Are you still okay to drive? You look like you’re in pain.”
He covered her hand with his own larger one. “I’m fine. I just have a headache. No need to fuss.”
Her whole body reacted to his touch. She felt the rasp of calluses across the back of her knuckles, and she focused on the weight of his hand on hers. A self-conscious heat tinged her cheeks. She coughed. “If you think this is fussing, you don’t know fussing. This is self-preservation. I don’t want you to drive off the road. If I start fussing, you won’t be able to mistake it.”
A glint of amusement entered his overbright pewter gaze. “So you’re a talented fusser?”
