by Lola Gabriel
But there was no need for anyone else to know what was happening inside that beautiful head. No one really knew her, anyway, and Cassia preferred it that way.
“People will only hurt you if they have the chance” had always been her mantra, and so far, it had served her well. Those who didn’t hurt her managed to bore her, and it was really just a tiresome circle. She turned her attention back out the windshield and began to drive out of the city toward the Garden State Parkway.
It was almost eight o’clock when Cassia pulled into the parking lot, and for a moment, she considered waiting for the hour to turn before getting out of her car.
You can’t put this off forever, a voice in her head reminded her. It’s already been a week. Inhaling deeply, she grabbed her Prada purse and keys, making her way toward the main building.
“May I help you?” the nurse asked from the station.
“I’m here to see Lacy Colter.”
The woman eyed her warily. “Visiting hours are almost over,” she intoned, as if Cassia wasn’t already aware. Cassia shrugged.
“Unfortunately,” Cassia sighed almost lazily, “I have to work long hours to pay for this place. It’s really, really expensive, you know? Like, really expensive. I guess it’s all the high security or something.” She gave the nurse a condescending smile. “I hope I’m not wasting more time by standing here talking. I’d really like to get in tonight before I go home and sleep to do another really long day… you know, to pay for this place.”
The nurse’s mouth became a taut line.
“Identification, please.” Cassia slipped her license across the counter and waited as she was signed in before the nurse nodded. “You know where she is?”
“Unless you’ve moved her in the past week.”
“Room 614.”
“Then you haven’t moved her in the past week.”
The nurse scowled at her deeply, and Cassia turned away from the desk and moved toward the room, tossing her wallet back into her purse. She was not looking forward to the visit, but that was nothing new.
Even though Lacy sat at the window, staring out into the darkness, Cassia knew her eyes were vacant and that she fixated on nothing in the parking lot.
“I thought I sensed you coming,” Lacy declared without turning. “The temperature always rises ten degrees when you’re near.”
“Hi, Mom. I’m sorry I haven’t been here earlier, but work has been so hectic…” She trailed off, wondering why she even bothered with the excuses. Her mother never listened, or if she did, she didn’t hear, not really. Cassia dropped her purse on a chair and moved to kiss her mother’s white head of hair before perching on the edge of the bed. Lacy still didn’t move.
“Do you feel it, Cassia?”
The younger woman gritted her teeth together, unsure if she had the strength to endure one of Lacy’s cryptic conversations that night. It really had been a long day.
“How are they treating you here?” Cassia asked instead. “Do you like the staff?” Sometimes, if she was lucky, she managed to sway the conversation away from the craziness her mother would embark upon. But that only happened once in a blue moon.
“Change is coming,” Lacy intoned, and slowly, she turned, her milky white eyes vacant. “It’s the Big Shift.”
“The Big Shift?” That’s a new one. I wonder where that came from. Idly, Cassia wondered what her mom had been watching on television. “Mom, have they changed your meds again?” Asking her about such things was useless. She would have to talk to the doctor about it.
Lacy shook her weathered head and pulled her legs up beneath her shrinking body. “Oh, Cassia,” she moaned. “I haven’t ever been honest with you.”
Oh, shit. It’s emotional roller coaster night. I should have followed my gut instinct and stayed away tonight. Guilt for the thought instantly washed over Cassia, and she shook her head, disgusted with herself.
“Mom, you’re getting upset for no reason,” she told Lacy nervously. While she was long accustomed to her mother’s ramblings, they did not get any easier to hear. Half the time, Lacy thought she was a young girl herself, and the stories she told Cassia made her wonder what kind of childhood her mother had endured.
Since Cassia had been raised by her single mother, her father completely unknown, she didn’t know much about Lacy’s upbringing. All Cassia had ever really known about her mom was that she had worked hard, and she was never, ever satisfied. It wasn’t until the past two years, when Lacy had begun to show signs of dementia, that Cassia wondered about her mom’s origins. The stories Lacy told were odd, to say the least.
It’s probably better I don’t know, Cassia thought, not for the first time. It was obvious that whatever was currently plaguing her mother had been long buried, and Cassia had no interest in rehashing old pain. No need to bring on more.
“Mom, come and rest in the bed,” Cassia sighed, rising to help Lacy onto the mattress. “I can’t stay long. Visiting hours are almost over already.” More shame followed her words as they left her lips. There was always enough guilt to go around. She knew she had purposely waited to come to the nursing home until the last possible minute.
To her relief, Lacy didn’t fight her, and she allowed herself to be led to the bed where Cassia tucked her in, brushing the unruly white mop of hair aside.
Did she ever look young? Cassia thought. Was she beautiful? Do we look alike? Will I look like her when I’m old? If Lacy had ever shown signs of youth, Cassia certainly couldn’t remember such a time. In her mind, Lacy had always been a white-haired, half-blind woman in her sixties. She had never been younger nor older. Maybe she was born precisely this age.
“Cassia,” Lacy murmured, grabbing her hand. “I made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” Cassia told her softly. “Whatever it is, it’s in the past now.”
But Lacy shook her head vehemently. “No!” she said with surprising clarity. “It is not in the past, for the past never stays buried. It will always come back. We are condemned to repeat history…”
Cassia squeezed her mother’s hand comfortingly, her shoulders tense.
“Mom,” she said plaintively. “You need to rest. I’ll talk to the doctor about your meds. You seem more agitated than the last time I was here.”
“I am!” Lacy agreed, sitting up. “The end is coming.”
“Mom…”
“You need to go back, Cassia. It is the only way to make it right.”
Of course, Cassia had no idea what her mother was talking about, and she didn’t want to encourage the conversation. “Okay, Mom. I’ll go back.”
Relief colored Lacy’s face, and she turned her sightless eyes toward her daughter gratefully. “You tell Reese I am sorry when you see him.”
“Sure, Mom.” Cassia untangled her hands from her mother’s and rose stiffly. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”
“Don’t come back until you return!” Lacy babbled. “It is important!”
“Okay,” Cassia agreed, although she had no idea what her mother meant. She felt bad about lying, but not lying would only agitate her. Trying to douse Lacy with reality had never gone over well in the past. She’s much happier in her delusion, and I won’t stop her.
“Excuse me,” the night nurse called from the doorway. “Visiting hours are over.”
Gratitude flooded Cassia’s body. She’d already had one foot out the door, and she was glad she didn’t need to make an excuse to her mother.
“Goodbye, Mom.” She kissed her mother quickly on the forehead before turning to follow the nurse into the hallway. “Have they changed her meds?” Cassia asked when they were out of her mother’s earshot. “She’s worse somehow.”
The nurse shook her head.
“Not that I know of,” she replied. “But I can have the resident doctor call you in the morning.”
“Please do. I’m her daughter, Cassia St. John. I’m the only person on her emergency form.”
“I�
��ll make a note of it, Ms. St. John.” The nurse wandered off, and Cassia cast one last glance toward her mother’s room, her pulse slightly elevated by the experience.
I hope I go before my mind fails me, she thought miserably. She could not think of a worse fate than the one her mother faced.
3
Wilder found himself unable to relax after his meeting with Atom, which annoyed him greatly. The fact that the little pipsqueak had gotten in his head was insulting. Wilder prided himself on being able to think rationally, after all, and Atom’s observations made no sense. Then why can’t I get it out of my head?
Wilder also knew that trusting his instinct was probably the number one thing that made him a great businessman, and the story Atom had fed him was gnawing away at his gut like an ulcer. Even Cybil noticed how distracted he was when he returned to the offices the following day.
“I thought you were off playing hooky yesterday. Why do you look worse than when you left?”
“What do you know about tectonic shifts?” he asked in response. Cybil blinked twice, her crystalline eyes shadowed in confusion.
“Uh… nothing. Do I look like a geologist to you?”
“Seismologist,” Wilder corrected, a fact he only knew because he had spent half the night researching the concept. “Find me one. From the Hollows.”
“Seriously?” Cybil demanded. “Who the hell in the Hollows would study that?”
“I guess it’s your job to find out,” he retorted. Cybil eyed him warily.
“Are you losing it? You can tell me. I can probably drum up a good spell for you if you want, and it will wash away any neurotoxins eating away at your psyche.” Wilder scowled at her.
“Do I pay you to question me?” he snapped. “Just do it. And stop offering to cast spells! That’s something you can do on your own time.” He entered the inner room, tossing his keys onto the desk as his cell phone rang. “Wilder Parker,” he answered when he didn’t recognize the number.
“Mr. Parker!” The man on the other end of the phone sounded like a game show host announcing his next contestant, and Wilder yanked the phone away from his ear. Again, he looked at the number and saw that it was a Sunside area code.
Newark, he realized. “Who is this?” he growled, eyeing Cybil, who had followed him into the inner office.
“Oh, I bet that’s the new real estate agent,” she offered as the man in his ear continued to talk.
“This is Cameron Villers, Mr. Parker, of Viller Realty? I spoke with your secretary earlier, and she told me that you were looking for a home office in Newark. Now, let me tell you, I have got some primo locations set up, yes, sir, you just have to—”
“How did you get this number?” Wilder interrupted, glaring at Cybil. She shrugged nonchalantly. He knew she had given it to Cameron. Cybil is really pushing her luck these days. Is everyone trying to push me over the edge? Is that the plan? See how far we can poke Wilder until he snaps?
“Oh…well, I—” Cameron sputtered, but Wilder cut him off.
“Never call me again.” He disconnected the call. “You gave him my personal cell number?”
“I’m sick of dealing with your real estate agents,” Cybil answered brightly. “I thought you might like to give it a shot.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Likewise.”
He knew she had a point. He’d been putting off the search for the offices for too long, and even though he didn’t approve of Cybil’s methods, he knew he needed to get to the Sunside and deal with the impending property deal.
“Fine,” he relented. “Find me a decent agent. Not that guy.” He gestured at his phone.
“I already booked you a room at one of Keppler’s places,” Cybil replied, and Wilder had to laugh. It never ceased to impress him how well she knew him.
“I’ll go today.”
“I know,” she chirped, vanishing from the room.
“Cybil!” he yelled after her, and she popped her head back into the room. “Don’t forget to find a seismologist.”
The grimace on her face spoke volumes to her thoughts, but she wisely held her opinion on the matter and moved away again.
“You better get a move on before you get another phone call,” she called back.
Wilder’s brother, Keppler, owned properties all over the Sunside, his business only growing with the passing years, just as his other brothers’ had. They were Parkers, destined to succeed, and Keppler was no exception.
The boutique hotel near the port was as charming as any place Wilder had known Keppler to manage, and he settled in comfortably, waiting for word from Cybil about when and where to meet the agent.
This will take all day, and then I’ll be back in the Hollows, he told himself. Despite having dealings in both worlds, it had always been Wilder’s preference to remain in the Hollows. The mortals were emotionally draining under the best of circumstances. He poured himself a stiff scotch and settled on the balcony, noting how warm it was for late September. We’re going to have another heat wave, he marveled. Climate change doesn’t exist, my ass.
He took a swig of his drink, realizing how lucky he was that, when the humans killed themselves, they would be safe in the Hollows. Or would they be?
Wilder loathed that Atom’s words had snuck into his brain so far from home. His Sunside cell rang, and he snatched it up before letting his mind run off with him again.
“Okay, you have a meeting at the Easterbrook Towers at six o’clock. Do you want to know the agent’s name or…?”
He scoffed. “Really? I don’t give a shit what his name is. I’m looking for a place, not a date.”
“I didn’t think so. I emailed you the address.”
“Thanks.” Wilder disconnected the call with Cybil and glanced at his watch, frowning slightly. It was almost five o’clock, and he was hungry.
He was considering grabbing a sandwich at the lobby when someone pounded on the door of his penthouse suite with urgency. His brow furrowed, and he sauntered through the living room and into the foyer. “Who is it?”
“Cassia St. John.”
The name meant nothing to Wilder, who remained in the marble foyer, head cocked. “Who?”
There was a long pause before she answered again. “Cassia. St. John.”
He couldn’t be sure, but it sounded as if she was speaking through clenched teeth. Wilder did not sense any danger in opening the door—not that he ever felt afraid. Who was going to take him on, after all? He was more fearsome than any other creature in any world. Still, he was reluctant, as though the ire in the woman’s voice caused him to think twice. What was she so angry about?
“What do you want?” Wilder asked.
“Could you please open the door so we could speak professionally for a moment? I was told you were a man of dignity.” The question was bizarre, considering he had no idea who she was or how she knew where to find him.
Is this a case of mistaken identity? Although she did call me a man of great dignity, so it probably isn’t a mistake, he joked silently.
Curiosity won over caution, and Wilder opened the door. Time seemed to slow if only by an almost imperceivable amount, and for a second, Wilder was consumed with a strange feeling of headiness.
Cassia St. John didn’t suit her voice in the least. He had been expecting a much older woman, not by her words or tone but more by the edict in her timbre. What he had not thought he’d find was a stunningly beautiful woman: tall, black-haired, and piercing eyes that rivaled his own penetrating gaze. Her pupils dilated slightly, but her face did not depict an ounce of change as she stepped over the threshold and brushed past him, uninvited, inside his suite.
“Uh…”
“‘Uh’?” she repeated, her eyes flashing. “‘Uh’? That’s the best you have for me? Well, I can’t say I heard you were eloquent.”
Wilder was taken aback by her anger, and he realized then that she was certainly looking for him. The problem was, he still had no idea who she was,
even though he was wracking his brain madly. He was hardly a “love ‘em and leave ‘em” type, and he would certainly have remembered a woman as stunning as her.
No, I absolutely don’t know her. Is this a scam?
“You think you can just waste my time for months and then fire me? Actually, you didn’t even have the balls to fire me—you had your secretary do it.”
Wilder stared at her uncomprehendingly. “Do I know you?” he demanded, his own annoyance sparking. “Because I think you have the wrong room.”
“Do I, Mr. Parker? It seems to me that I would know the man who stood me up three separate times over the past two months.”
A smidgen of familiarity touched him, but he dismissed it. There was no way that a real estate agent would be that brazen.
“Well?” Cassia snapped. “You have nothing to say for yourself?” Wilder noticed he was uncharacteristically lost for words. “Fine,” she continued when he could only stare at her. “I will accept your apology.”
My apology? He couldn’t help laughing, but it was shadowed by something else: confusion. He studied her more closely, another realization flooding him as he did.
“How did you know I was here?” he finally managed to say, shaking his head. He loathed admitting that he was enthralled with this woman and her bold, fearless approach. She’s either dumb or has nothing to lose.
He couldn’t reconcile that either was true. There was an unmistakable intelligence in her eyes, and if she didn’t care, she would not be confronting him.
“If you think for a second that I’m going to lose my commission to Randy Miller or anyone else, for that matter, you’re sorely mistaken. You contracted me to find you a location, and you’ll let me do my job.” Wilder’s mouth curled into a smirk of disbelief.
