Consequences

by Elyse Draper

  “I think they had catacombs full of ancestry records once, but over time they narrowed down the list to account for mental illnesses or Seers. A person with our traits, who just happens to be mentally ill, is at risk of becoming evil, and the council kills off the family before they can procreate. They keep track of those talents that are the most beneficial to their cause … and Seers don’t tend to have offensive powers, so they are easy to control, thus becoming a primary asset to the Symboulio.

  “They always take the risk of aberrations showing up in the general population, talents forming outside the known bloodlines. This has been an issue in the past; because they didn’t have trustworthy means of diagnosing mental illnesses, such as hallucinating, verses someone who could actually the creatures. Our history is riddled with special ones, driven mad by our world, and then they turn to torturing people … ironically, when the torturers were killed, they would pass into the veil as evil manifestations of what they once were. I think, maybe that’s why, the council became so determined to kill all of you, to kill the anomalies, to kill entire family lines before they could create more potential threats; they felt responsible to correct past mistakes. That guilt turned into full-out prejudice, a bloodthirsty need to cleanse the world. Now that I know you, I’m starting to see their calling is actually genocide. I don’t blame Cassandra for being suspicious; she hasn’t survived this long by trusting blindly.”

  Replying bitterly, I say, “And then there’s the rub, her seclusion was killing her just as sure as the Symboulio would have. What a sodding, messed-up world we live in, full of contradictions, loneliness, and death … so much death.” I feel extremely tired after listening to Dimitris's impromptu history lecture. I suddenly understand how dimwitted I’ve been for not listening to Cassandra’s warnings, mistakenly seeing her as paranoid and unreasonable, with her mutterings about conspiracies.

  My head starts to spin and my limbs begin to feel incredibly heavy. I ask for some water, and when I place my lips on the glass, I can feel the pressure and hear the clink of the cup against my teeth, but I can’t feel the texture or the change in temperature. My lips are numb, and then the deadened sensation starts spreading across my face. As my eyelids start to slide shut of their accord, I tell Dimitris I am not feeling right, and ask if I can lie down.

  Through the fog, I feel concern, and hear, “What’s wrong? Okay, Ellie … whoa, don’t try to walk on your own. Come on, let’s put you in the bedroom, you can rest while I take us to Sparta.”

  I think I am mostly unconscious before we even make it to the bed, because I have the impression of being lifted off my feet and into a strong embrace. Dimitris's contact bombards my senses with fear, worry … but most of all, shame. The next thing I know, I am under warm covers that smell of Dimitris, and the fog of sleep takes the rest of my mind into dreams.

  Yellow and blue swirls are waiting for me, beautiful, almond-shaped eyes outlined in black and surrounded by white fur blur into focus as the white wolf nuzzles my cheek. She whimpers softly in my ear, and tries to nudge me into motion. When I can’t lift my hand to return her affection, or push away her nagging, she steps back and cocks her head, studying me. Then, quite suddenly, she runs off into the mist.

  Alone and coherent, but still unable to move, I can't help but to become scared. Reaching with every ounce of mental energy I can gather, I call out to Cassandra.

  “Something is wrong … terribly wrong! I’m paralyzed, and every nerve ending seems to be on fire!”

  In response, I feel the wolf returning with the heavy footfalls of a human following close behind. Reaching out again, I try to contact the approaching mind that can only be Christopher, “Help me, please!”

  I watch as feet drop down to knees, and hands gently hold my face, forcing me to look up at a mask of fear. Christopher is swearing, and asking me what is wrong. Silence … Damn it! Why can’t we hear each other here? Not that I could answer his muted question, I can’t make my mouth work. My head flops around in his hands, as if I am a rag doll. Pulling me up into his arms, he wraps his entire body around my limp form. Looking into his eyes, I see my own worst nightmare … he thought I was gone from his world, and my own. Reflected in his expression, I see something that would destroy me … the death of his reason to exist. I try to move my eyes … to let the tears, I know were forming, fall … anything to let him know I am not lost.

  I can’t make anything work, I am trapped … and for the first time since my death, I feel as if I am suffocating. Rationally, I know I don’t need to breath, but I need air to scream …I need some way to force the noise out of my vocal cords; I start to panic. Anguish becomes its own creature as it races around inside my head, screaming, moaning, crying … then nothing, just the look of sorrow on Christopher’s face. He is shaking me, as if he was trying to wake us both from this nightmare; but the shaking now becomes the silent sobs of defeat. A hot pain tears through my esophagus and my stomach twists with violent cramps, brought on by my terror, and my inability to vent the pent-up screams. I try to calm my mind … as soon as I stop writhing in my own skull; I feel Christopher’s pain full force.

  “Oh dear god, stop … you’re killing me! Christopher stop … please stop.”

  He is too absorbed in the physical to listen to his own senses … otherwise he would know the truth is, I’m alive. Frustration at my own paralysis turns into aggravation with Christopher, for not listening to his own gifts. I can feel nothing but his pain, and then the frightening reality starts to form in his mind … he wants to die if he doesn’t have me to live for. I start screaming and squirming inside again, but nothing happens. Then I notice a different kind of movement as Christopher’s companion tries to squeeze in between us.

  She is trying to make Christopher let go … I can only guess she is trying to tell him that I am all right, or at least, trying to make him use his bloody head, instead of his heart. As soon as the connection is lost, and I fall from his lap … the mist vanishes and I am pulled back to Dimitris’s boat.

  I can actually feel the weight of the blankets and my eyes can almost focus, but my body is still useless. I have no choice but to lie still and try to figure out what is going on. Even though I am groggy, I know that this isn’t a normal reaction. I’ve felt the weight of other people’s pain for my entire life, and it has never incapacitated me like this. I can only imagine that this is what it feels like to be restrained in a hypobaric chamber; with so much gravity you can’t make your body move. Thinking about being trapped at the bottom of the ocean, I start feeling claustrophobic and need air. Silly thought … I’m dead; I don’t need air. Realizing the obvious again, I have to berate myself for not trying to return to the ethereal mist. I focus on pushing the overwhelming panic back down to my toes, and try to recreate my ability to travel back into the veil, as I had done with Cassandra, in Santorini.

  Slowing down and trying to find calm, I wait to feel the movement of the boat on the water. Swaying back and forth, I send my thoughts back to sitting in Christopher’s arms … matching his comforting movement of rocking me like a child. I hone in on his love and almost start to feel myself drifting back, when I hear Dimitris’s furious voice outside the door.

  “No … I will not tell her to re-enter the demon mist! You have no right to be here … I don’t care what they heard… ” then pausing momentarily just to explode again “…Bugging my blasted boat!”

  I can’t make sense of what he is talking about; and I can’t feel any other people on the boat for him to be talking to. I am still bleary, but finally beginning to feel my feet, although my brain is still too sodding slow to understand what is happening. I know, even if only instinctually, that I need to stay solid … something about the emotions flowing from Dimitris tells me that my life depends on it. For some reason, I don’t think I would succeed at shifting back to insubstantial anyway … something is seriously wrong with my body … my control is completely gone.

  **~~**

  I can still fe
el the anger on the other side of the door, but can’t hear Dimitris’s voice any longer. Maybe he was on the telephone, or the boat’s radio. As I lie still, trying to convince myself that I imagined Dimitris speaking, I can’t shake the feeling that I need to stay in my physical form for safety reasons.

  With a slight sigh of relief, I feel a tingling sensation in my fingertips that turns into flames licking at my palms. Lying there for what feels like hours, I wait, rather impatiently, to regain some sense of power over my body. When I finally sit up, my head starts to swim, so I quickly lie back down again; this makes my stomach flip. The shades are still closed from the morning I shut them so Dimitris could sleep. I have no idea how much time has passed while I was debilitated; and not understanding what happened to me, for who knows how long, frightens me.

  As my fear turns into sobs, I remembering how badly I’d prayed for tears to show Christopher that I was still alive … Oh god, Christopher!

  I close my eyes and focus on the wolf in my mind’s eye. Searching, stretching out my thoughts as far as they can go … nothing. I'm not even sure if I'm actually in the fog where I can connect with her, my mind is refusing to focus and my heart is racing at the memory of Christopher’s pain. Damn this idiotic paradox, I need to relax and focus, so that I can find the wolf and let Christopher know I’m okay; but I can’t calm down enough to focus, because I can’t find the wolf to let Christopher know I’m okay. Finally deciding to sit down, more to sulk than to try and relax, I wait and hope that they will find me.

  **~~**

  I argue forever with myself over whether or not they're coming back, giving up only when I feel someone trying to shake me awake. I open my eyes and breathe a sigh of relief as Dimitris’s face comes quickly into focus. I sit up slowly and find that most of my spinning disorientation has disappeared. Dimitris looks pale and disheveled as if he haven’t slept for days.

  “Are you all right?” His voice cracks as he speaks.

  “I’m feeling better … I don’t know what happened, how long have I been out?”

  Dimitris averts his eyes as he speaks, “It’s my fault … I didn’t know how you would react to the poison. I wasn’t sure it would affect you at all. It’s supposed to work like a drug on your kind … it was the first time I’d ever used it.”

  “Poison?” I am slow on the understanding, but something makes sense about my incoherence and feeling of being drugged. “Why would you poison me?”

  “Because, I knew they were coming. I found a listening devise while you were sleeping that first day, and I couldn’t allow them to harm you … I needed you indisposed, and set solidly in this world.”

  I still can’t understand what he is telling me, “Why would you have poisons that could paralyze my kind … on your boat?”

  “All Seers have venom packs to use in case one of you, who are able to hurt the living, was to become dangerous.” He pulls a dart out of his belt: it is about three inches long and has a red tuft at the top.

  “Venom? I don’t remember you stabbing me with that…” My brain must still be loopy, or I am in shock, because none of what he is saying is making sense.

  “Listen to me, Ellie … you have to understand, because we are almost to bloody Sparta, and they will be waiting. I stirred your hollandaise sauce with one of my darts … at first I didn’t think the scorpion venom would work, and then I was sure it had worked too well. I’ve been scared as hell that I’d condemned you to a slow agonizing demise when you refused to wake up for the past week.”

  “A week?” Oh no, my god, Christopher!

  “The Timoro keep coming to check up on us, and I can’t avoid the council much longer. They are not happy about missing the opportunity to catch Cassandra. Do you remember me telling you that they only have use for those who can be instrumental in their ultimate plans… such as Seers, and Timoro? They’ve been drooling over the chance to control a precog for centuries. The chance to take Cassandra was too important for them to ignore; even though precogs are notoriously impossible to catch … they are such fools.”

  “Precog? Take Cassandra? Dimitris, did you turn us in?” The betrayal pulls me away from my thoughts of Christopher. “Where is Cass … did they hurt her?”

  “No, they arrived too late after the Timoro, who had been spying on us, told them the juicy news that one of the strongest Precogs could be found in Sparta. Cassandra was nowhere to be found … that was four days ago, about the time she was supposed to meet you. She must have seen what was coming and ran, or flew in your case, because the Symboulio brought their best hunters and there was no sign of her. That’s why the Timoro have been returning here to look in on you … they seem to think you can tell them how to sneak up on Cassandra. I told them that you wouldn’t have any sodding idea … because as far as I could tell, it is bloody impossible to sneak up on someone that can see the future! As long as you’re in your tangible form the Timoro can’t hurt you. Although when we dock outside Gythio … the council will be waiting, and they can most definitely hurt you. I don’t know what to do, Ellie.”

  “What if I change back now, and fly away?”

  “I’ve been able to keep the Timoro off the boat for the most part; but if you were to look approximately thirty feet off the aft, you’d see we are being watched very carefully. I was thinking that if we kept you visible when we hit land, the human council members wouldn’t dare murder you in front of strangers … or at least that is what it would look like to any bystanders: murder.”

  “I think being ripped limb for limb would constitute murder, no matter who was witnessing the act.”

  “Indeed … Ellie, I’m so sorry.”

  “Okay, well let’s prepare for what’s coming … first, who will be meeting us?”

  “To oversee the capture of Cassandra ... I don’t know who they would still have on hand after the initial mission failed. I’m pretty sure one of the elders will be meeting with us, because the Timoro have to be answering to someone. My best guess would be Esidor … he is particularly good at capturing and dispatching Ho Thanatos. He’s a very old Seer, and is rumored to fear death so much that he has invented a way of absorbing the energy of dying ethereal creatures. Some say he’s over one hundred years of age, but to look at him, you’d think he was in his sixties … maybe there is something to the rumors after all. In any case, with a capture or possible demise of someone as important and powerful as Cassandra … Esidor would absolutely be involved.” I feel and understand the depth of Dimitris’s fear as he speaks the monster’s name; imagine using living creatures as a face lift. The dark irony of my thoughts makes me giggle bitterly over my situation … What in the hell am I going to do now?

  **~~**

  Part Three

  Fear

  **~~**

  Chapter 16

  Madness

  *Michael*

  Over the past two months, Christopher, Lune, and Artemis have become more and more distant from the outside world; preparing, I think, for the pending battle. On Monday, I stopped by to find everyone was still in bed at three in the afternoon. I thought maybe this was similar to the trance between Artemis and Christopher that I’d witnessed in the past. Jokingly, I tossed water over the group, but only got a response from the dogs … I could see a distinct difference in the wax figure that used to be my friend. As the week wore on, Christopher refused to get out of bed, refused to eat, and wouldn’t drink anything.

  Yesterday, not knowing what else to do, I started an I.V.; he didn’t even flinch when I slid the needle into his arm. I don’t know who to contact; and taking him to the hospital, without having any idea what’s wrong, or who could be causing this, seemed like a bad idea. I’ve learned enough about V over the past two months, since Christopher finished telling me about his time in Vegas, to understand that introducing V's presence to a hospital, would be disastrous.

  Now sitting vigil by Christopher’s bed, and caring for the dogs, seems like my only course of action. Delirium settled in on Chr
istopher quicker than I expected, and it is obvious that there is more going on than simple dehydration. While I watch, he'll scream out for Ellie, and then Artemis will howl in response. I’m starting to think I’m delirious, too, because I see Artemis as if she is yelling at Christopher, instead of wailing with him. She wouldn’t leave his side at first, but now she’s becoming impatient with his depression: forcing her nose under his hand, and trying to encourage a connection … but he won’t let her in.

  After being ignored yet again, she leaves the room with her tail tucked between her legs, nudges Lune and then goes to sit impatiently by the front door. I get up to let them out; and when I brush by Lune, he rubs his muzzle across my leg.

  “I know, buddy … I know … but what am I supposed to do? He’s given up … he’s dying.” I scratch behind his ear and he presses his face harder into the side of my leg. He is telling me not to give up, and that he has faith in my abilities … or maybe he is saying it feels really good to have his ear scratched. I’m never going to get used to this talking-to-animals stuff.

  Transfixed by the sight of watching the two run out into the trees, I’m surprised by how attached to the animals I’ve become. I have a family here, a brother here; something that I don’t think Christopher or I have ever had … or at least something we had resigned ourselves to living without. The dogs just about run me over as they wrestle their way back through the door. And, I can smell the change of the season on their coats. The ozone scent is becoming stronger the closer we creep toward winter.

  I’m pulled out of my thoughts of the weather, when I hear Christopher’s muffled screams come from his bedroom.