by C E Johnson
“Should I bring him in?” Dysis asked. She didn’t think it would be too difficult to transport the Doctor to Washington D.C.
“Not yet, let’s listen in on him for a few days so I can find out what I’m going to talk with him about.” Hadrian gave a short, cold laugh.
“I’ve asked to interview him myself, but he keeps refusing,” Dysis said. She closed the file with an inner sense of frustration. She was dying to impress Hadrian. She opened a second computer file on Emily Whayne.
“Don’t worry, he can’t escape us.” Hadrian cleared his throat, sounding suddenly uncomfortable. “Now tell me more about his goddaughter. I don’t understand why you want to waste our assets on a juvenile.”
Dysis winced at his irritation. “I reassigned several of my agents from following the doctor to observing Emily,” she explained to him. “I’m preparing some data on her for you.” Dysis studied her notes in the second folder. “One of the members of my team has been posing as an adoption agency follow-up case worker. She’s performed extensive interviews with Emily’s adoptive parents and she’s certain the Whaynes are hiding something about her.”
“I doubt a fourteen-year-old girl can be doing anything too dangerous,” Hadrian spoke bluntly as always.
“I’m learning to trust my instincts, just as you taught me,” Dysis began hesitantly. “I wonder if she’s unique enough to be a candidate for the President’s Stargate Project.” Dysis felt uncomfortable following her hunches, but she was trying to be bold on this mission. She was dying to catch Hadrian’s eye with her skills. “I’ll send you my initial report and impression, but I want to keep surveillance on both of them for a little longer. Can you send me a few more agents?”
Hadrian snorted, “I’m probably out of my mind for helping you investigate a child, but you’ll have more help coming tomorrow.”
Dysis worried about the doubt in Hadrian’s voice, but she was steadfast in her desire. “Thank you, Hadrian,” she said softly.
“Just let me know if we should pick up one or both of them. I’ll have a heart-to-heart talk with anyone you think might be unusual.” His voice sounded dark and treacherous, and Dysis wondered why she was so attracted to a man who could sound so malevolent. “Have you located the girl’s birth parents yet?” Hadrian sounded curious.
“Not yet.” Dysis answered. “She was adopted under very unusual circumstances … let me tell you what I’ve learned.” She began to tell Hadrian all that she had discovered so far.
CHAPTER 2
Fourteen years ago
Although Dysis had learned fragments of the truth, which she began detailing to Hadrian over the phone, the real story of the days just after Emily’s birth were something she would never fully uncover.
Sadly, Emily’s entry onto Earth wasn’t broadcast with fanfare and trumpets. The fantastic and nearly unimaginable developing adventure of her life didn’t even start with awe-inspiring dragons soaring overhead in battle formation or with columns of fearless half-dead warriors meeting on grassy plains. Instead, she arrived on Earth as a nearly frozen baby barely clinging to life, being borne by a single drained and weary warrior down an asphalt road in a middle-class neighborhood. She was surrounded by a cold land nearly devoid of color, as if a god-like vampire had sucked the vitality out of nature, leaving only the husk of a drab, white, waxen world for her to enter.
The magician warrior, her protector, staggered unsteadily along a steep angle in the road. A thin layer of frost clung to his cloak, and he prayed he wouldn’t slip in the unseasonable Texas snow. The night was bitterly cold, and snowflakes danced in the air, swirling around his head in clusters like tiny fairies attempting to give him advice. Although his hands were numb, and his arms were fatigued, he carefully clutched a small, brown wooden basket to his chest. When the contents of his bundle emitted a weak cry, he set his precious cargo down and paused to study the baby within. Will she survive? he wondered. My plans were made in such haste.
She will survive, his bondsmate encouraged him. His bondsmate link was many miles away from him, but he could still gain mental advice from his animal through their mental connection.
What was that? He gasped as a faint whoosh of air passing through wings roused him from his trance. He hastily pulled a small stone throwing-knife out of his cloak, ready to protect Emily if necessary. Glancing to the skies anxiously, he searched for a possible dragon or wyvern. But that would be crazy, he thought to himself, those beasts are on Acacia, not Earth. He relaxed slightly when he realized the noise was coming from the feathers of a great horned owl that had flown over his head. His eyes followed the large bird of prey that was silhouetted against a generous white moon.
Is the owl attached to an enemy magician? His bondsmate asked him while assessing the visual input across their link.
No, he answered succinctly once he satisfied himself that there was no magical aura around the owl. Sighing in relief, he collected his basket and continued his trudging descent. Listening to the crunch of his boots in the snow, he worried about how the noise reverberated loudly in his ears. He wondered if it would be heard by an enemy. Glancing furtively into the woods on either side of the road, he found only emptiness and the sound of the wind sighing through leafless branches. How many other magicians are there on Earth? He wondered.
I hope the number is very small, his bondsmate answered. They both knew he was too weak to engage in a large-scale battle and he shook his head in despair.
Glancing back along his trail, he was gratified to see no one was following him, and the snow was covering his tracks. Wanting verification of his direction, he decided to reassess his path. He set the baby back down and composed his mind as he had been taught. Once he was ready, he began an incantation, forming the spell of his desire, fueled from his magus. Tugging deep within for the power, he recast a guidance spell to find the correct family in the area to care for Emily.
If any enemy notices your magic right now, you’re both dead, his bondsmate whispered with concern.
I know it, he answered, but it must be done. He glanced at Emily’s green eyes peering back at him from amidst the blankets and he hoped he was making the right choices to protect the tiny life in his care. A moment later he felt overwhelming assurance from the spell that he was headed in the correct direction, but the magic had siphoned his strength. Shaking and swaying, he tumbled into the snow unconscious next to the baby as everything went black. He only awakened when Emily unleashed an especially heartrending stream of pitiful sobs.
Get moving, his bondsmate encouraged him. There isn’t much time. You must complete that which we’ve started.
Rising to one knee, he grabbed a handful of snow and wiped it over his face. The icy cold sensation jolted his mind back into the reality of his situation. He stood and shuffled down several more streets until he came to the door of the house with the occupants that were selected by his spell of prophecy. Setting the newborn beneath a protective roof on a concrete porch, he knew his job was almost complete and he started toward the shadows.
The note, his bondsmate reminded him.
The magician abruptly reversed course while removing a note from the pocket of his black wool cloak. He placed it in the basket. After ringing the doorbell, he slipped into the cover afforded by a cluster of bushes beneath two intertwined large oak trees. Icicles were interspersed with snow giving the trees a ghostly appearance. A brown ring-tailed cat watched him from high in the boughs. The creature showed no signs of fear and that worried him.
Is it magical? his anxious bondsmate asked.
I’ll check, he promised his link. His hand began to ache for want of a sword. Although he risked losing consciousness again when he was so drained of power, he used the final fragments of his energy to search for traces of magic in the fox-like beast. Like the owl, he didn’t see an aura and he knew the cat couldn’t be a magician’s bondsmate. He turned from the creature and crouched, waiting for the door to open. Please don’t die, Emily, he praye
d. Placing his head in his hands, he collapsed to a knee, barely conscious. Rocking quietly, he relieved the horrible events of the last few days.
* * * Richard * * *
The Whaynes were the family selected by the magician’s spell, and when their doorbell rang in the middle of the night, Richard was the first to wake. The hairs on his neck slowly rose to stand on end in response to the sound at such an unusual hour. Everything in the room was black and cold. The freezing wind whispered outside the windows, advising him that he was dreaming and that he should go back to sleep, but he ignored the advice and placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder to wake her. “Jean, I think there’s someone at the door,” he said in a low
voice.
Jean took a second to wake, but after he told her about the doorbell, her eyes went wide “It’s so late,” she whispered worriedly while glancing at the bedside clock.
“Maybe it’s some sort of a prank,” he said hopefully, “but I’m going to look.” Richard grabbed his rectangular set of glasses from the nightstand, snatched his robe off a chair and turned on every light while rushing toward the front of the house.
“Wait for me,” Jean urged Richard as she straightened her hair while following closely on his heels.
Richard slowed by their entryway and hesitantly peeked out the window. “Strange.” He gestured toward impressions in the dusting of snow just outside the cover of their porch. “There’s faint footprints.” He tried to slow the hammering of his heart.
Jean’s eyes followed the tracks. “I see them.” There was a sudden movement in the tree in the front yard. Jean gasped, “What is that?”
“Just an old ringtail cat,” Richard muttered, pointing the creature out to his wife. He felt breathless and his heart was fluttering. The cat’s pair of eerie eyes were reflecting the porch light, regarding him icily from the branches. Why am I so on edge? he wondered.
“I don’t like this,” Jean said while holding on to the back of his robe.
“I’ll just take a quick look,” Richard promised. Giving Jean a reassuring pat in an attempt to appear brave, he slowly opened the door. “What in the world?” A chill went up his spine, and a cold wind swirled around him, bringing with it flakes of pure white snow that melted instantly on his cheek. There on the porch was a basket full of blankets.
“Is it a puppy?” Jean’s voice was hushed.
“I’m not sure,” Richard answered. He carefully peeled back the covers. “Goodness, it’s a baby.” Goose pimples were rising on his cold skin.
“A baby?” Jean asked. She moved forward, pushing Richard gently to the side to reveal what was nestled deep down in the soft cloth. “Look at that little face. I think it’s a girl … so small and frail.”
“Her ears have a slight point at the very top,” Richard marveled. He delicately moved a wispy headband made of white silk flowers to better assess her ears. The baby didn’t look more than a day old, but she already had distinctive features with high cheekbones and long lashes. There was also a net of tiny green gemstones in her light hair, glimmering in the moonlight. The baby’s eyelids slowly began to part at his touch, revealing a dazzling burst of color. “Will you look at her eyes?” He felt swept away by the beauty before him. “They’re incredible, like molten emeralds.” The baby had forest green eyes that shimmered like little green suns.
“I think there’s a note on the basket,” Jean pointed out. She reached forward, deftly catching a piece of paper before the wind could steal it from her hand. The note was in an elegant script, so beautiful that it looked closer to artwork than mere letters. Jean leaned against Richard so the two could read the words together.
A disaster has struck our family, and we are not able to protect our daughter.
You have been chosen.
Please raise Emily as your own.
When she is strong, she may choose to journey to meet her twin brother and her parents.
Please prepare her.
KD QE
“She’s lovely,” Jean whispered. Emily closed her eyes and sighed as if even the tiny effort of keeping her lids open was simply too much for her. She began to make unusual cries and her skin turned a pale shade of blue.
“She doesn’t look good,” Richard worried. He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “She’s freezing. We’ve got to get her help.” He brought the basket inside their home and handed the swaddled baby to Jean. “Keep her warm,” he advised. “I’ll call the emergency number.” Jean accepted the small bundle. She held Emily close to her chest.
The darkness outside their home was soon illuminated by the lights of an ambulance, and the sound of its piercing siren shattered the night. Coyotes in the adjacent ravine were stimulated by the noise and they began to howl in a mournful chorus. The medics took the infant from Jean and began to evaluate her in their vehicle. Furrows in Richard’s brow deepened as they waited for an assessment. The wind continued to swirl, and he felt as cold as the ice around him. He stared up at the thousands of stars glittering above his head like polished jewels and he watched his breath stream upward into the dots of light along with his prayers. He marveled at the force of the protective feelings already building in his heart for the little girl.
Emily was rushed to the hospital and placed in the neonatal intensive care unit. Police were contacted, and a short-lived campaign was formed in an attempt to find the mother or father of the abandoned baby and the baby’s reported twin, but the curious case was never solved. Richard and Jean were both in their late forties and they couldn’t believe they were involved in such a mystery that was expanding the boundaries of their relatively mundane life. They had never been able to have a child of their own, and the arrival of a baby on their steps appeared to be the answer to their prayers.
After a whirlwind month of interviews, evaluations, and applications, the Whaynes were legally named her adopted parents and they rarely left her side during her stay in the hospital. One day blurred into the next and Richard wondered if Emily would ever fully heal. “We must have faith in grace,” he quoted fragments of Scripture softly while staring down at Emily in her clear plastic intensive care bed.
Jean squeezed her husband’s hand and turned to search his face. “I’m hoping for her healing, but tell me something … what do you think about the strange note with the talk of a missing twin and possible family in the area? It makes me a little nervous. Does it worry you?”
Richard coughed uncomfortably to clear his throat. “No, it’s unusual, but it’s really minor details.” He spoke the truth from his heart. “Even if we lose her to her biological parents someday, I’m just thrilled to have a child in our lives.”
Jean nodded. He could tell she liked his answer and she shifted her hand to rest on his back. “Maybe we can talk with her one day about the mystery of her birth,” she began with a soft smile. “Maybe we’ll all solve the puzzle together.”
Richard leaned closer to Emily, wishing the baby could give voice to all she held in her little head. There were mysteries and secrets about this tiny child that he was dying to know the answers. The last set of tests had shown her heart was normal in structure, but her bone marrow wasn’t working right. While thinking over the medical problems that were so confusing, he listened to the beeps and hums of the equipment, feeling utterly helpless. “Dr. Dalton will figure it out,” he said, hoping he sounded stronger to his wife than he felt.
Almost on cue, Dr. Dalton walked up. “It’s getting late.” He had a lilting accent. “How did she do today?”
Jean enveloped the doctor in a welcoming hug. “No change. Are you sure her heart’s okay?” Richard could hear the fine tremor resonating in his wife’s voice and he swallowed hard.
Charting Emily’s latest vitals, Dr. Dalton studied a computer screen. “She doesn’t currently require surgery, but I’m not leaving her side.” He sounded determined. “I’m fascinated by her fight.” Doctor Andrew Dalton was a distinguished pediatric surgeon who told them he had graduated from a me
dical school in Europe. He was handsome and dashing, in an aristocratic way. Appearing to be in his late fifties, he was athletic and muscular for his age with a broad-shouldered build, striking wavy white hair, and an air of authority that commanded respect. Something moved in a large pocket on the front of his medical jacket, and a furry head looking like a child’s stuffed animal peeked out.
Jean reflexively took a step back. “I still can’t get used to your otter.”
Warm black and brown eyes with flecks of blue peered at Richard intently from above the pocket, and Dr. Dalton chuckled. “Dax doesn’t like the noise of this equipment.” He rubbed his otter’s head lovingly as a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“I don’t know how you’re allowed to have that creature in here,” Richard teased. “You must have friends in high places.” He felt comfortable with the doctor.
“This is no mere otter … this is a therapy animal,” Dr. Dalton quipped back. His eyes were laughing and as usual there was a powerful energy radiating off of him.
“Jean and I have been talking,” Richard started hesitantly. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And we wanted you to know how thankful we are for your help.”
“We trust you and all you’re doing for her,” Jean added, glancing at Emily.
A look of pride replaced the amusement on Dr. Dalton’s face. “You flatter me with your compliments. I’m just doing my job.”
“You’re doing so much more than that,” Jean retorted. Tears were brimming in her eyes. She reached out and grabbed Dr. Dalton’s hand. “Do you think you can cure her?”
“I’m going to try a novel approach with her,” Dr. Dalton said in a gentle voice. He pursed his lips before continuing, “Nothing else is working well, and I don’t know how much time we have.”
“We have faith in you.” Jean squeezed his hand one more time before letting it go. She kissed Emily’s cheek lightly.
