“I’m afraid you’ve just missed her arrest.” He yanked her around, grabbing her other arm and bringing her face next to his. She cringed as his large paunch pressed against her. Somewhere, a baby cried. “Are you going to deny it?”
Sophia tried to answer, but her mouth locked up. She should have been more careful. She should have stayed home, but she had been so eager to follow her mother—to make sure her mother didn’t get into trouble. He shook her, his dirty nails digging into her arm.
She squirmed, desperate to be free. “Please,” she said, finally finding her voice. “Let me go!”
He laughed, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. “No. I don’t think so.”
She looked for help in the crowd that had moved up the road toward them.
“I’m just trying to catch up to my mother,” she whispered.
“I’ll take you to your mother so you can burn in hell right alongside her.”
***
“I'm reaching her now,” I heard Remus murmur to Sandra, who was wringing her hands at his side. He sat forward on the edge of his chair, staring intently down at me. Outside, the rain was sliding down the window panes.
“Sophia? Sophia? Can you hear me?”
His voice was professionally calm, but the beads of sweat on his forehead told another story.
I half sat up with tears running down my cheeks and he leaned forward and put his hands gently on my shoulders, pushing me back against the cushions.
He waited as if to make sure I’d stay put, then he leaned back in his chair and took off his glasses.
I lay still, staring from Remus to Sandra and back. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then, as I wiped the tears from my face, Sandra stood up. “I think we could all do with a drink. What do you think?”
Remus took a deep breath and nodded. “Well, how do you feel, Sophia?” he asked. His tone was light and conversational. His glasses polished to his satisfaction at last, he put them back on his nose.
“I don't know.” I pushed myself up against the cushions. “Oh, God, I feel shaky.” I leaned forward. “What was that? Who was I?” I buried my face in my hands.
Remus glanced at the open door, through which came the sound of rattling cups.
“I think we crossed over into yet another of your lives. Do you remember everything?” he asked cautiously.
“How could I forget?” I whispered. “That man was horrendous,” I stood up unsteadily and crossed the room to the window, wishing it was open. “I can still smell him!” My voice cracked and I fell silent, pressing my forehead against the glass.
“What man?”
“The man from the Village. He captured me,” I whispered, trying not to re-live it.
“Do you remember anything before or after that?”
“No. That was all.”
Sandra looked sharply at her husband but he just smiled at me.
“I heard you calling me.”
“Good, Sophia. You did very well today. We’ll give you a break and maybe we can meet again Saturday.”
“No. I’m done with this. I don’t want to go back there again,” I said, rushing across the room
Sandra started to protest but stopped short when her husband gave her a measured look.
“Now, Sophia, be careful, dear. You might be dizzy for a few minutes yet.”
I sat back down but clutched my purse.
“I thought you wanted to see your Juju again? Your Great-Grandmother, wasn’t it?”
“You mean Gigi.” Had I said that? “Yes. I do, but it just doesn’t seem right anymore. I’m sorry, I’ve got to go,” I said, and left the room. The door thudded behind me and I closed my eyes and leaned against it, waiting for the dizziness to subside.
“Do you think she knows?” Sandra’s voice sounded from the other side of the large walnut-colored door.
My ears pricked up.
“No. She only remembers the lynch mob. I blocked my questions and commands but there’s nothing to be done about the associated feelings.”
“So you think she suspects something.”
What the hell? I wanted to open the door and scream, “She bloody well does now.”
“I don’t think so,” said Remus. “She probably associates the negative feelings with being captured.”
“Why allow her to remember at all?”
“The feelings will fade and she’ll forget. She’ll go under again, you’ll see.”
“Shall we head to lunch then?”
“Yes. I just have to grab my coat.”
I pulled my ear from the door and hurried away.
TWENTYSIX
Remus and Sandra’s words kept echoing in my head as I made my way down in the elevator and onto the street.
That could only mean one thing . . . couldn’t it? They were bad; they were questioning me and giving me instruction while I was under hypnosis … That was so creepy. And, I’d told them I wanted to remember everything. Cullen had warned me.
I felt a surge of anger. How was it possible that I had misjudged yet another person close to me in life? Could I trust anyone? Yes, of course. I could trust Cullen and Alana, and Leslie. As I walked across the street, I rooted around in my satchel for my keys. Finally, I looked up to see a girl leaning against my car.
No, not a girl, Leslie—a woman who only appeared to be a girl because she never aged. It didn’t help that she was wearing a plaid dress, John Lennon glasses and black leather boots that looked like they belonged to a fourteen-year-old.
“What are you doing here and what are you wearing?”
“Hello to you, too, Ms. Grumpy-pants,” Leslie said.
I smiled. “Sorry. I . . . wasn’t expecting anyone.” I unlocked my car and threw in my bag, trying to cover my thoughts of Sandra and Remus. It’s not like Leslie could read my mind, but she was very intuitive and I wasn’t sure how I felt yet, aside from icky. I took a deep breath and turned back to Leslie. “Everything okay at the bookstore?”
“Of course. Alana and Deirdre are manning it. I just stepped out to grab lunch. I’m starving.”
I rolled my eyes. She’d probably just polished off a four-course meal.
“You realize you’re parked a block away from the store when we have parking?” Her voice was curious, her brown eyes questioning.
“I know.”
“Uh-huh. So what are you doing here?”
I laughed. “What are you, a detective?”
“Don’t be evasive.”
“I was visiting Madam Brun. Remember, she’s staying here.”
“You just had them over for dinner.”
“I know.”
“You best friends now? I’m being ousted.”
“No.”
“You’re hiding something.”
“I’m not hiding anything. I just haven’t told you yet. The truth is...” I avoided her eyes. “I had a regression done today and one last night.”
“Seriously? Cullen too?”
“No. He had to take a call. I decided a walk down memory lane would be good.”
“Right, well, is it just me, or is it past lunchtime?” Leslie said, using her favorite tagline. Leslie, at five foot nothing, was always hungry. “Let’s grab chow and you can tell me all about it.”
I didn’t relish the thought of telling her about all that had happened, especially when my own thoughts were still jumbled, but she was my best friend and she had seen me through everything.
“I heard about this great new restaurant not too far from here. Best sushi in town,” she added, knowing full well salmon sashimi was my weakness. My mouth watered just thinking of it.
Glancing down at my watch, I saw it was noon. She was pretty damn smart, so maybe she could clue me in on what was going on. Besides, Alana was at the bookstore and Cullen was out of town. I had nowhere to be.
“I’ll drive,” she said as she climbed into my driver’s seat.
“Great,” I said in a sardonic tone; the only thing wilder than Leslie’s outfit w
as her driving.
We left our neighborhood, passing rows of brick houses and striking graffiti until Georgian set-pieces appeared. In comparison to most other European capitals, Dublin was small and could go from a prosperous, well-tended area to a run-down, gritty neighborhood within a block or two.
“Hey! Where are we going?” I asked as we drove along the bank of the River Liffey.
“Banyi.”
“That’s not new.”
“I know, but you never want to go to Temple Bar.”
“That’s ‘cause it’s all tourists and they jack the prices.”
“Not this place. Well, maybe, but still, let’s try it, I heard it’s good.”
“At least you’re the one who has to deal with parking,” I said as Leslie jerked the wheel hard to the left down an alley and into one of the lots.
“Yay! This one’s got space. We’ll have to walk a bit.”
“Big surprise,” I said and climbed out of the vehicle. Leslie did the same.
“So, spill it. Where’d you get regressed to?”
“Don’t rush me,” I told Leslie as we both slammed our doors. “I’d rather talk once there’s a drink in my hand.”
“Good thing I chose this place then, huh? Licensed.”
A familiar cackle rang out.
Instinctively I ducked behind my car, peeking just high enough to see a couple of familiar faces.
“That is just great,” I grumbled. “We had to pick the one place…”
Leslie snorted. “Are you losing your mind now or are we playing a game of hide-and-seek to work up an appetite?”
“Shhh.” I whispered. “It’s Sandra and Remus. They’re ahead of us.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the big bad doctor and his wife. What’s up? You think they might spontaneously regress you—make you quack like a duck?”
I closed my eyes, thinking about what I’d overheard.
She came over to crouch beside me. “Sophia, answer me. What’s going on?”
A man reeled toward us on unsteady feet. He wore jeans and a hoodie that said he was an orgasm donor. The sweatshirt barely covered his hairy belly, and as he neared I noted the stench of alcohol and body odor. “Either of ye smokin’ hot ladies seen my keys?”
I rummaged in my bag, passing the man a twenty and standing up straight. If they were still there, the jig was up.
“What’s this for?”
“The pedestrians—take a cab.”
The drunk man smiled, belched, and stumbled away.
The alley was empty. They’d disappeared around the corner as well.
“I don’t think I’m hungry anymore,” I admitted sheepishly.
“Let’s head back to the bookstore. We’ll grab lunch at the place next door and you are definitely going to explain your weird behavior even if I have to get you bombed to do it…You can start with why you’re sneaking into the bookshop after hours.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Last night,” Leslie said, pulling back the road. One of the cabinet drawers was open when I got in this morning.”
“Maybe it was one of the customers.”
“The customers aren’t allowed in the cabinet. Besides, don’t you think I would have noticed? I closed up last night and I’m just very attentive to those things.”
“Was anything missing or broken?”
“No, the door was still locked.”
I tried and failed to remember if Alana had taken the shop key when she went out the previous night. Of course, it was ridiculous to think that Alana would break in. But, as we drove down the road, I wondered, if it was so ridiculous, why was there a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach.
TWENTYSEVEN
“ Wake up, lass!”
I refused to open my eyes. This had to be a nightmare. There was an out of control teenager playing a set of drums inside my skull.
“It’s yer favorite man in the world,” the voice said testily.
“That could be anyone with drugs and coffee,” I muttered, pulling my pillow out from under my head and pressing it to my face.
I peeked out from under the pillow and met Cullen’s soft green gaze.
He ran a lazy hand over my shoulder. “How’re ye feeling? Ye’ve the Irish flu.”
I groaned. “Why did I get drunk last night?”
“Ye tell me.”
“Wait a minute, it’s Saturday. What are you doing home?” I stretched, snuggling back under the covers. “You’re supposed to be in London.”
“Don’t I know it? Ye said Alana was off for the weekend so I rearranged my schedule and came home a day early, expecting a romantic tryst with my wife, instead—”
“You got me.”
“More or less. Ye were tryin’ to drown yerself in the bathtub.”
“I was not,” I said indignantly.
“Well, ye were by default. You can’t drink to the point of unconsciousness near a body of water. Have I taught ye nothin’, lass? Always drink to excess on dry ground.”
I chuckled and groaned ‘cause it hurt.
“What made ye do it? Ye were three sheets to the wind, barely coherent, mumblin’ about murder and witches.”
I sat up. The sheet pulled tight to my breasts. “That makes no sense. Was I really? I went out with Leslie.” I rubbed my forehead, desperately trying to recall all the ins and outs of why I’d escaped inside a bottle of Cullen’s best scotch after I’d already pounded a bottle of wine. It was hopeless. Who could think like this?
I cast a dubious glance at myself in the mirror, ran a hand through my sleep-mussed hair, and padded down the stairs to the kitchen to find that magical morning elixir known as coffee. Cullen followed me and began to ask more questions.
“If you have any sense of decency at all, Mr. O’Kelley, you'll fix me a greasy breakfast and shut up.”
“Yes, m’am,” Cullen said and got to work.
I walked back to the bedroom, took an Advil and flopped back against the pillows. Twenty minutes later, I felt his hand once again caressing me, only this time, it was not my shoulder. I gently pushed his hand away. “Not quite yet, honey.”
He grinned at me fondly. “Well, the dead arose and appeared to many! Breakfast is ready. How ye cuttin’?”
“Better.” I pulled myself up against the headboard and reached for the cup he was handing me. “You heated it up?”
Cullen shook his head. “I drank that. You were already snoring by the time I followed ye here. This is fresh.”
I took a sip and it tasted like liquid gold.
“You spoil me.”
“Don’t I know it?”
I sat up, suddenly wide awake, both suspicion and concern warring in my previously sleep-befuddled brain. “The regression—” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. “My God, Cullen! I can’t believe I almost forgot. You were right! I overheard Sandra and her husband talking about me after they put me under.” I reached for my robe and pulled it on. “Bloody hell!”
Cullen tugged open a drawer and pulled out a t-shirt and a black v-neck sweater, drawing them down awkwardly over his head one at a time. “What did they say? It couldn’t have been that bad.”
“It wasn’t just what they said. It was my regression and the feelings.” I stopped speaking, realizing he was now fully dressed and his hair was still wet from the shower. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Dylan’s expectin’ me. We have a 10 a.m meeting since I flew back early—not that I don’t want to hear all about this, but would ye mind, my love, tellin’ me over lunch?”
“Of course, I’m sorry to make you late. I’ll come meet you.”
Cullen ran his fingers through his hair and grinned. “Sounds like a plan. Now, eat up. There’s a very yummy breakfast sandwich awaitin’ ye.”
“Oh no, you didn’t put black pudding on it again, did you?”
“No, no, I made ye that weird thing ye like with the lettuce and the tomato. If ye don’t feel l
ike it, go back to sleep for an hour, and meet me at the Pub at noon for lunch.” With a wave, he ducked out of the bedroom and ran down the stairs.
I must have drifted off again because it was about eleven thirty when I awoke to a loud banging on the downstairs door. As I flew down the stairs, I almost tripped over an empty beer can hidden beneath a shirt at the bottom, its metallic rattle echoed off the baseboard as my foot sent it flying. I didn’t remember drinking a beer. Had it been Leslie’s? Ugh. I swallowed hard at the thought. I pulled the door open to find Madam Brun, smiling and wrapped warmly in a bright-green wool coat.
She gave me an uncomfortable smile. “You were sleeping?”
“I was, yes.”
“Sorry. I tried calling but you weren’t answering and we were worried about you.”
I smiled vaguely. “We?”
Her husband walked up behind her as if to answer my question.
“You seemed upset after yesterday’s session, and you said you were alone for the weekend,” Sandra went on.
Remus stared past me into the pitiful living room. The room was untidy, to say the least. Pillows littered the floor; my bra was hanging off the chair and there was an empty wine glass lying on its side on the table.
I swallowed hard. “I said that?” I clutched at the doorknob positive my knuckles were turning white.
“We were going to see about taking you out to lunch,” Sandra said hastily. “And it looks as if you could use a good meal.” She pushed past me to take a seat on the sofa. “Why don’t you go throw on some clothes?”
I took a grip on myself. “I’m not exactly feeling well,” I said slowly. “I’ll have to take a raincheck.”
Sandra stared. “But we came all the way out here. Look, my dear, I'm not making any judgment, it's just, well, you look like hell and we know what’s bothering you.”
“You do?”
“Of course. We’ve both been regressed. It’s always unsettling at first but it holds the answers to so many things in our current life. That’s why it’s important to keep going.”
I took a deep breath. “I'm sorry, Al-Sandra.” Why had I almost called her by the wrong name? “But you really don’t need to worry. I’m fine and I don’t want or need answers!”
Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four Page 79
