Immortals- The Complete Real Illusions Series

by Tanya R. Taylor

  After Tina left, Trent thought of her constantly. Certainly, he would have to reveal his secret to her if they ever were to consider marrying one day. Perhaps, she would learn to somehow live with it, but then again, maybe not. He knew, however, that he must be certain of her loyalty before he unveiled the truth.

  He took a late lunch that day. Tina had bought a milk shake and a burger from McDonald's an hour earlier and stored them away until he was ready for them. He soon phoned her, telling her that his stomach was on the verge of combustion and sooner than predicted, she was there.

  "Thanks for being such a doll," he said to her as she walked into the office.

  "You're most welcome," Tina replied, setting the lunch on his desk. She then smooched him again for the third time that day before leaving.

  Trent stared at his lunch with no interest whatsoever, except for the beef slouched between the buns. He took the sandwich apart, pulled out the beef patty and ate it quickly. Then he drank the milk shake and tossed the leftovers into the waste bin.

  He spent the remaining twenty minutes of his usual half-hour lunch break thinking of the control he was slowly losing of his life. The monster inside him was rapidly surfacing and it had a completely different character of its own.

  Later that night, he switched on the television and slumped on the couch. Within minutes, of falling asleep, a dream ensued. He was in the woods at night when a howling sound echoed through the trees. Whatever it was, it was close; he could sense it. At first, he thought it must be an owl since owls make weird noises at night. But then it howled again - now louder - and this time he was certain it was no owl. From a distance, he looked back at his house which was well-lit and saw a shadow pass inside, the silhouette of an extremely tall, hefty man. Trent headed toward the house using his green beaming eyes as headlights. The howling sounded again and he stopped suddenly, immediately turned and scanned the trees and bushes, but there was nothing in sight. At least, nothing out of the ordinary.

  He continued toward the house... a few feet more and he would be there. On arrival, he walked through the open door, carefully took a look around, but saw no shadow creeping across the wall as he had from a distance. He was almost certain that his eyes had tricked him, until suddenly the door slammed shut. He swung around and stared at the knob as if it would somehow reveal the identity of the intruder. Then he saw it move slowly. Then it stopped. There was the sound of a toppled glass shattering on the floor and upon swinging around again, he looked into the eyes of Tarrow, the Evil One.

  "It's just me," the apparition sounded in a sonorous voice. "The season is nigh. You will be condemned for your father's treachery."

  As Tarrow spoke, his voice went deeper and deeper, and Trent found himself losing control of his mind, helplessly submitting to the entity's hypnotic spell. The sinister apparition then started to undergo an astounding metamorphosis right in front of him. There was no way of escape. Trent's feet were pinned to the floor as he was absolutely spell-bound. The phantom's unusual height curtailed five feet shorter and the muscles cramming his body receded. His long, yellow nails curtailed as well and turned white as snow, and his face was transformed to one of innocence. Now Tarrow looked completely human, just as Trent did.

  Impossible! Trent thought as he stood in disbelief of what he knew he had seen.

  "You see… I have the power to control you, to torment you, to kill you, and I will. I will!" Tarrow roared.

  On that note, the phantom disappeared and Trent instantly awoke drenched in sweat. He switched on the light and rushed into the kitchen for a glass of water. He felt as if his throat was about to explode. Afterwards, he hurried into the bathroom and ran a cool bath.

  As the water flowed into the tub, he sat on the cold tiles with his head between his knees. Why didn't my father intervene? He wondered. Is there a way I can keep the Evil One out of my dreams? More questions, but no answers.

  Switching off the faucet and stepping into the cold water, his head throbbed painfully. He slid back into the water, closed his eyes and tried to relax.

  After what seemed like an hour of soaking, the chill of the water had turned to warmth, so he stood up, grabbed a towel from the rack and through the open bathroom door, saw a shadow facing him - this one not quite the same as the one he had seen in his dream. He dried his face with the towel and closed his eyes tightly for a moment. He looked out again and it was gone. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he proceeded into the bedroom. The room was eerily quiet. He had left the light on before leaving to take a bath and everything looked the same. There was not a sign of anyone or anything out of the ordinary.

  He threw on his boxer shorts and continued exploring the house, but after a thorough search turned fruitless, he concluded that his mind had been playing tricks on him: His dreams were getting the better of him.

  * 4 *

  Solange was growing quite attached to Greg. They were more than room-mates now; they were actually becoming good friends. He gave her everything she needed - definitely more than she ever expected him to.

  In return for his kindness, she had enwrapped herself in taking care of him and his home to the point that she almost forgot about herself, particularly after he had convinced her that she didn't have to rush to seek employment as she initially intended, but that he was more than willing to take care of everything. Nevertheless, Solange was not completely comfortable with their arrangement and while having dinner one evening, decided to share her thoughts.

  "You're a very hard-working man, Greg," she started. "And you obviously don't need anyone to help you. These are qualities I admired in you from the day I met you. I cook and clean and do as much as I can to repay you for your kindness, but I watch you leave for work every day and can't help but feel envious of your independence. Today I was thinking, and decided, that I should work like I initially intended. My salary can help pay the bills and buy groceries, and I can still take care of the house in the evenings."

  Greg looked at her suspiciously. "Liza, I don't need any help. You said that yourself a minute ago. There's no need for you to go out there and toil like I do. I'm more than willing to take care of you."

  Solange got up from her seat abruptly. "Who are you, Gregory Winters? Are you my husband, my father, my brother? No! You're not responsible for me. In fact, I don't deserve your charity at all!"

  Silence filled the room as Greg sat startled by her outrage. His appetite quickly faded.

  Frustrated and embarrassed, moments later, Solange slumped into her chair. "I'm sorry Greg; I don't know what's gotten into me."

  "It's okay," he said softly, wiping his lips with the napkin. "I think I understand how you feel." He leaned forward. "Look, Liza, if you really want to work, then work! You're right. I'm not any of those people you mentioned; just a simple cab-driver trying to make a simple living."

  This time, Solange leaned forward. "I really appreciate you, Greg, but I can't help but feel like you're spoiling me. I'm used to working very hard for my living. The last few years have been difficult for me since my parents died, but I'm used to it. That's how I grasped my independence and eventually, I learned to appreciate it and rely on it. I'm really sorry if I hurt your feelings."

  "But you can be independent, Liza…I know how. Continue working at home like you do now and I'll pay you for your services," he proposed.

  "That's ludicrous!" She laughed. "I should be paying you for having me here."

  "Not necessarily," Greg rebutted, "but if you select that manner of thinking, I'll make things a little simpler: I'll pay you weekly and all you have to do is pay me fair rent - say, one hundred dollars a month and you will know that you're contributing financially to the household."

  Solange thought for a moment, then agreed. "All right, it's a deal.

  "Now everything's settled." Greg smiled. Appetite returning at full force, he picked up his fork and continued where he had left off.

  Solange sat silently. She had a sneaky suspicion that for som
e reason, Greg was dead set against her working for anyone else as if protecting her from something or it may have been that he simply wanted her all to himself.

  * 5 *

  One week later, Trent found himself counting down the hours before Peter's party. As he was schedule-oriented, he thought of the various things he had to do before going to Peter's house that night. Everything went as planned until he arrived at Tina's place later that evening. When she opened the door for him, he was shocked to find her dressed in nothing more than black, silky underwear. Captivated by her raw beauty, the smooth complexion of her skin, and the hour-glass shape of her frame, yet still conscious of the respect that was due to her, Trent turned his head and pleaded that she quickly get dressed. However, Tina stood there with a cunning smirk on her face, daring him to look.

  "What's the matter, handsome? Are you afraid of something?" She asked, gently invading his space.

  "For goodness sake, Tina, we have a party to go to. We don't have time for this right now!"

  Tina gripped his chin and gazed into his eyes. There was something bothering him; she could tell. "What's the matter?" She asked in a more serious tone of voice.

  "Nothing. I don't like to be late; that's all. It's not a good example, especially coming from me," he replied.

  "We're not going to work, Trent - just a party."

  "I know that, Tina, but let's just go. Okay?"

  "All right." She shrugged. "I'll get dressed. If you want, you can have a seat. I'll only be a minute."

  Trent stood near the front door, not trusting himself to venture further back into the room where she had retreated. He earnestly hoped that she didn't think for even a second that he wasn't tempted. Tina was very special to him and as appealing as she was, he wanted to treat her with the respect he felt she deserved. Ten minutes later, she showed up in fitted, black jeans and a silver, glittery blouse.

  "I'm ready." She zipped her purse, avoiding his eyes.

  Trent approached her ever so lovingly. "You look absolutely gorgeous. It's an honor for me to have you on my arm tonight."

  The way he looked at her was almost hypnotic. She knew she was falling in love with him. After he kissed her, she walked ahead with a wide smile on her face, knowing that he would be watching every move she made in those tight, skinny jeans.

  Peter's house was one of the grandest in Raleigh. It was a Georgette, colonial-style edifice with Tuscan columns and a portico out front. The intricately designed molding around the soffit of the roof was accentuated by recessed lighting. Trent had been there countless times before and each time he saw the place, he was totally fascinated by its charm.

  He turned over his car keys to the young valet before he and Tina headed for the front door.

  "Umm…very nice," Tina remarked on the way.

  "Yeah. Peter has this thing for showing off, you know."

  "I think it's great. Everyone's gotta feel special when they get to come here."

  "Oh…and when you go to other people's homes, you don't feel special because there's no one to park your car for you?" Trent said facetiously.

  Before Tina had a chance to respond, the door flashed open before them. "Hey, buddy, old pal," Peter greeted Trent with a vigorous handshake and then something similar to a bear hug. Finally, he noticed Tina. "Hi, Tina, how you doing? Now what's this I see?" He smiled. "Anyway, whatever it is…congratulations! You two are the first to arrive. Get in here!"

  Trent was flabbergasted by how weird Peter had become. Maybe he makes too much money, he thought for a moment. Or maybe that woman he keeps around is driving him nuts. He snapped out of his boorish thoughts when his partner handed him an old bottle of very expensive wine. They followed him to the drawing room where Tina made herself comfortable on the white, satiny couch with bolsters at the rear. Trent stood by the piano studying the infinitesimal contents inscribed on the label of the bottle.

  Standing below the grand chandelier, Peter said, "Go ahead and try some, Trent. I'm sure you'd love it!"

  Not much of a wine drinker, Trent looked at Tina as if seeking approval.

  "Tina, you're next," went Peter again. "See, if Trent drinks it and doesn't puke, then I know you can handle it."

  "Is that how it works, Mister Darcy?" Tina asked.

  "Please, please, Tina... this is a party and besides, you're hooked up with my best friend here. Call me Peter from now on, will you?"

  "No problem, Peter. But as far as that mysterious wine is concerned, you wanna fill us in on your own personal puking story?"

  "Na, it's a piece a cake. I could gulp a whole bottle down and feel just fine by morning."

  Just then, Peter's girlfriend, Stacey, entered the room. She was wearing a red, lacy mini dress and high-heel silver shoes. Her fiery red hair was pulled back into a glamorous ponytail and her eyes shadowed with a deep, lustrous blue.

  Peter introduced Stacey to Tina — the one person in the room she didn't know. Trent hugged Stacey and kissed her on the cheek, then Stacey sat next to Tina and attempted to become better acquainted.

  Peter poured a few glasses of wine to start things off before the other guests arrived.

  "This is really something, Pete," Trent said, sipping the wine and squinting his eyes in utter dislike. Tina, on the other hand, sipped hers with no apparent repulsion whatsoever.

  The guests started filing in shortly thereafter. Punk rockers, celebrity look-alikes, a few of Peter's college buddies, and two other people from the office showed up. Peter had lots of friends, but never invited many of his employees to his parties because at the end of the night, he always managed to get completely wasted.

  The music was loud and booming as everyone danced the night away. When Trent decided that he would sit and relax for a while, Tina remained on the floor and danced alone. He sat on a sofa that had been pushed far aside for the sake of space and at one point, looked up at the large, round clock on the wall. It was approaching five minutes to one.

  A couple of minutes later, he looked up again and the long hand was almost there, then it stopped right before hitting the big number one. Odd, Trent thought, or maybe not so odd. The clock could have stopped because the batteries died. Then he noticed the long cord that extended from behind the clock down to the socket a few feet from the floor. Obviously, the batteries had nothing to do with it. Soon, the four walls in the room began to vibrate like they were on the verge of crumbling, yet strangely, everything else in the room remained in its place - totally unaffected. He was just about to spring up from the chair when he felt a warm touch at the nape of his neck.

  "What's the matter, honey?" Tina asked after noticing the look of panic on his face.

  Trent looked up at the clock again and this time, the long hand was stealthily moving around the face of it. The crumbling had ceased and the time was now 1:08. It was as though the clock had never stopped ticking and no one noticed anything, except for him.

  "Nothing. I guess I had a bit too much to drink," he finally replied.

  "But you hardly drank at all," Tina said. "Are you sure you're all right?"

  "Yes. I'm sure."

  "If you're ready to leave now, we can," Tina said.

  "No," Trent quickly replied. "I'm just getting started here." His smile was convincing.

  Around three o'clock that morning the party was pretty much over and by then Peter was fast asleep at the dining-room table snoring and dribbling away — too drunk to see anyone out. Trent and Tina were the last to leave.

  * 6 *

  After one month in America, Solange decided to write Victor. She wanted to let him know that she was all right and also to find out if anything significant had transpired since her departure. Victor wasn't computer savvy, so sending an email to him was not at all an option and calling was definitely out of the question. She could not be sure that the officials would not have now tapped his phone line.

  Solange listed her new address at the bottom of the letter and headed the envelope with her code-name, Ana-Eli
sa. Upon sealing the envelope, she heard the rattling of a shopping-cart tottering outside her window. She knelt up in bed, deciding to have a look, and saw a packing boy from the foodstore a few blocks away, pushing a cart a few feet behind the sinister woman dressed in dark clothing - Laurie's aunt.

  Solange glanced along the stretch, but there was no sign of Laurie. The old lady walked alone this time; no niece following her trail.

  On arrival home, she entered the house and the boy parked the cart in front of the porch and lifted some bags inside. After the last bag, it seemed a while before he re-surfaced again during which time Solange figured that the lady must have been scraping for change. When the boy finally returned, he pushed his cart and headed east with such speed that he rooted up the very dirt he stepped on. Solange hurried outside on the porch to get a better look at the woman's house and as she looked in that direction, she found herself staring into the face of the seemingly sinister old lady herself.

  Four

  _____________

  UPROAR

  * 1 *

  Early Saturday morning, Trent brushed his teeth and showered quickly before heading downstairs to make breakfast. He prepared the same thing each weekend - a tasty Caribbean delight that he and Foster had sat down at the kitchen table and enjoyed together for many years. They had picked up the recipe while vacationing in The Bahamas one summer.

  The stewed fish was good - extremely good. Every delectable bite meant more. After getting up for seconds and watching the last bit of stew quickly dwindle away with every spoonful, Trent realized that the pride of his stomach would soon be gone until another weekend.

  Standing up and rubbing his stomach, the decision he found himself making in that instant made perfect sense. He hadn't exercised in more than a year and figured he would give himself a couple of hours "emptying time", then ready himself for a jog in the woods.