The few friends I had didn’t really know what I did for a living. As far as they knew, I was a Researcher for a SciFi novelist. It seemed like a cooler job to have and was certainly more respectable than writing trashy bodice rippers. Thankfully they didn’t question how a newly single mother could afford the house I lived in, or how I survived without my husb… ex-husband’s dual income. The information wasn’t volunteered.
Sometimes, I feel bad about those lies - but the fact that nobody had figured this out was a huge surprise, since no one with any intelligence could call me a very good liar. But believe it or not, the only person other than my agent, editor and publisher that knew what I really did for a living was my best friend Rose. She heckled me all the time about it. Conversations often ended with her parting shot of “Go write your porn!”
I scowled with annoyance. I would have called her over this recent angst, but she and her husband were celebrating their thirteenth anniversary by cruising the Mediterranean on one of the new luxury ocean liners. A stab of self pity overwhelmed me. I should be on a cruise, sipping fruity drinks and lounging on the deck of a mammoth ship reading the latest from my favorite author.
But no, here I was walking in the woods, freezing my ass off and dwelling on the sad shape of my love life. It was obvious to me that I’d be spending the rest of my life alone. How could I possibly write about true love and dashing men who swept the heroine off of their feet when my perception of true love had just kicked my ass and stolen my wallet? There were no roguish, tall, oh-my-god-I-want-him men in my life and my self-pity was assuring me that there never would be.
The last time I’d had any semblance of “a good time” was the night Dylan was conceived. I’m not going into those details. This isn’t one of those stories. Did I say stab of self pity? No, I was trekking through the Swamp of Self Pity at this point, waist deep in my own stinking shit.
Being so wrapped up in a whirlwind of wretchedness does nothing for your outer perception, so of course I didn’t notice the woman kneeling on the trail in front of me. Oh, my world and then some for a bit of grace and composure. It would have come in so handy when she called, “Hey there sunshine!”
That imagined grace and composure may have even prevented me from yelping, slipping on the loose pebbles littering the trail and barreling straight over her. Frantically my arms wind-milled around, trying to stay upright, as I was slipping and sliding around like some kind of bad Scooby Doo scene.
The Universe isn’t so kind because neither my mediocre grace nor Scooby Doo helped me.
After flying in an undignified heap over the mystery woman, my ass hit first, then my back, shoulders and so on. A shock of pain shot up through my tailbone and ended at the tip of my tongue, which I had bitten. “Gah!”
“Little jumpy ‘aintya?” she laughed as she picked herself up off of the ground.
Sharp rocks dug into my palms as I struggled to push myself off of the ground. “Listen, I’m really sorry I didn’t see you there. Is this private land? I have no idea how I even got here” Cue me chuckling nervously. Oh God I was such a dork. “I apologize if I’m trespassing – well and for knocking you down.” I wavered between annoyance and shame that I had been so self-absorbed that I hadn’t even realized she had been there.
“Oh that little bump was nothing,” she smiled and held out her hand. “Diana, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I took her hand hesitantly and replied, “The pleasure is mine. Again, I’m so-.”
“Stop,” she interrupted. “It’s fine really. I’ve suffered worse. Besides Gracie, you are exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
Had I told her who I was? Looking back over the entire debacle, I tried to determine if I'd yelled out my name at some point. Maybe a psychotic snap was imminent and I'd begun referring to myself in the third person. "Grace is gonna fall!" It took everything I had not to laugh at myself. Right, back to the point. Starting with - Who was this woman and how did she know me? My brow furrowed and I opened and closed my mouth a few times. Fish-out-of-water impressions, they're kind of my specialty. "I'm sorry - have we met?"
Frantically, my brain tried to recall if my picture was on any of the flaps of my books. I’d asked the publisher to create a digital image of some nondescript woman so that I could retain my anonymity. But who knew. In the beginning you aren’t so picky as long as the thing sells.
“I first met you about thirty-four years ago actually,” she smiled and stood back and stretched to her full height. She wasn’t very tall but she had this presence that made her seem bigger. Her grey hair fell in waves around her face and the collar of an old duster that covered her frame like a favored blanket, worn around the cuffs and hem. Even her jeans were faded and battered. Despite her disheveled appearance, she exuded grace and calm. A speculative gleam lit her eyes as she took me in.
One of the many drawbacks of my personality is my contrary nature. As soon as I thought she was judging me, I got defensive. Nobody likes to feel like they are left wanting and she definitely gave me the impression that I was lacking in something.
“So you’re…” I trailed the sentence, giving her the opportunity to elaborate on that strange sentence. Just because I was defensive didn’t mean that I had to come out swinging. I learned that in therapy. See, all of that money hadn’t gone to waste.
She smiled at me. “When you were little, you were always getting into things. Your curiosity is just insatiable. I suppose that there is still hope for you yet.”
“Oh, are you friends with my adoptive parents?” Great, years spent trying to pretend that I didn’t belong to them wasted in a moment of clumsiness. Making small talk and eventually having to deal with them because news of me had reached them wasn’t at the top of my list of things to look forward to.
She snorted and shook her head. “Like I’d have anything to do with those two idiots,” she scoffed. “I knew it was a bad idea but I did it anyway. Wish I hadn’t now.”
“Ooookay,” I brushed my hands on my jeans, and turned to leave. “So, I’m kinda all full up on crazy right now. I’m just gonna go. Again, really sorry to have knocked you over.”
She stopped me in my tracks with one sentence. “Hmm, I hadn’t thought you’d grow into a coward. What happened to you Grace?”
“Could be the multiple beatings that life gave me. I don’t know. It has a way of stripping the wonder out of you.” I responded nonchalantly as I forced my feet to start moving.
“Aren’t you wondering how you ended up here?” She called.
“Nope,” I replied shortly and continued walking. “Get lost all of the time. It’s part of my charm.”
Her frustrated growl reached my ears and it left the spot between my shoulder blades tingling with something akin to fear. I had to force myself to continue walking and not start running. That wasn’t easy. Fear is a great motivator.
Suddenly she was standing in front of me holding out her hand. I stopped, startled and whipped my head around looking at the spot that she’d been standing in. “What the hell?”
“You are so gods-damned stubborn Grace Murphy. But of course you are - you’re my daughter.”
On the weird-shit-o’meter this had to be up near an eleven. I started pinching myself because obviously I wasn’t awake. Had my head hit the ground giving me a concussion? Was this woman even real? Pinching yourself is never a good option. It hurts. But that pain meant that this was happening and I didn’t know what to do.
“Um...” was all that I got out before her hand snaked out impossibly fast and her fingertips made contact with my forehead. The last thing I heard before the darkness claimed me was, “We don’t have time for this. There is too much work to be done.”
Chapter 2
I shot up with my son's name on my lips. Oh God! Dylan! I'd been kidnapped and my baby was never going to see his mother again.
"Really, you are such a drama queen. How you've survived this long is entirely beyond me," my captor stated wryly.
I glanced around the surprisingly large room, looking for an escape route. A soft glow washed the wood paneled walls with a pale yellow light. No door was apparent, but floor to ceiling windows covered an entire wall, showing that twilight had fallen outside. How long had I been out of it? Hadn't it just been full light out there?
“Listen, I don’t have a lot of money, but I can make payments. I don’t have family or anything other than a son that I need to get back to. Let’s talk this out. We can work something, right?” I read somewhere that staying calm and negotiating was a good way to start. Besides, she did have a point. I did lean towards drama queen.
“Better, logic and reason generally works.” I could hear mirth in her voice and I shoved down the rising irritation. “Look at me, what do you see?”
My eyes widened as I realized that while the voice was the same, the woman was not. The diminutive gray haired older woman who'd ambushed me in the forest was gone, replaced by an ageless, fiery haired Amazon.
She was so radiant she literally glowed. I made a mental note to use her as a character in an upcoming book and then slapped that mental idiocy down. Now was not the time to be thinking about work.
Gone were the wrinkles and laugh lines. Instead her smooth honey colored skin glowed as if sun-kissed. Waves of crimson hair fell down her back in a waterfall, replacing the gray wind whipped locks that I had seen before. As I studied her, her perfectly arched eyebrows drew together in a frown. My own brow narrowed in annoyance. I hated people with perfectly arched eyebrows. It was all my aesthetician could do to keep mine remotely tamed. Jealousy is an ugly thing, but I used that emotion to gather myself.
“So,” my voice shook only slightly and I was proud of that. “I’ve finally had the mental break.”
“You’re no crazier than anyone else Grace. Life has just made you interesting. No matter what, don’t forget that.” She sat down across from me on a leather ottoman. “I have things to tell you that you’re going to have a hard time believing. But I need you to believe me because we’re running short on time.”
“You said that before, when you – did whatever you did to me. What does that mean?”
“Well let’s start with this – Surprise! I’m your mother.” She sat back and beamed at me. I guess she expected me to jump up and embrace her with joy and adoration. She obviously didn’t know me very well.
My short burst of laughter caught her by surprise. “Ok, who put you up to this? Am I being Punk’d?” I looked around for the cameras and crew. “Did Rose put you up to this? Because, she’s got to stop. Practical jokes are not her thing. She’s barely even funny on the best of days.”
“Oh for Fuck’s Sake!” she exclaimed throwing up her hands. I was a little shocked by the language. I expected to hear that kind of thing come out of my mouth, but she seemed too ethereal to use swear words. “Technology has done nothing good to the human race. It’s stripped you of all belief.”
“Really, who in the hell are you? Are you an actress that Brandon hired to make me look crazy?” I gasped with dawning horror. “Have you drugged me? Oh my God! I’m calling the police!" Could Brandon actually do this to me? Sure he was a bastard, but lately he’d been so wrapped up in the new girlfriend that I didn’t expect him to go to such lengths to get custody of Dylan.
She grunted and rolled her eyes before leaning forward and peering at me intently. “Look at me. Is there anything that seems familiar to you?”
“No!” I exclaimed. “I’ve never met nor seen you before in my life. Why in the hell would you expect me to recognize you?”
“But Grace, you look just like me!” She threw her hands up in exasperation. Really, she was a great actress.
This was just confounding me. Listen, I’m not much to look at. Like I said, sixty pounds were gained. Even before the weight, I’d been ungainly in my curvy body. I wasn’t too tall or too short, standing just below 5’7 but I claimed that extra quarter of an inch because it made me feel better about myself. At the best of times, my hair couldn’t decide if it wanted to be mousy brown or auburn and to stave off the graying, I’d begun coloring it. The only vanity I had were my eyes. An ex-flame had called them sea foam green and I’d grasped onto that description like a drowning man to a life raft. My therapist says that you have to take the good when you can. So I did.
I squinted at her face, trying to find some similarity. Sure, her eyes could have been identical to mine but that didn’t mean anything. Lots of people had this color of eyes.
“Yes, but they don’t turn stormy grey when they’re angry, now do they?”
I swallowed hard. The first time I’d seen them change I’d gotten a little freaked out. But after a lot of anger, hello teenage puberty years, I’d gotten used to it. The frightening moment of clarity here is that no one else had ever noticed or remarked on the change.
“You also have a birthmark in the form of antlers on your outer thigh.”
I unconsciously reached down and rubbed my leg. The peace I had been struggling to regain was turning quickly into a nauseous pit in my stomach.
“Let’s take a moment and suppose that I’m buying into this, because, you know, it sounds and feels crazy. What do you gain by doing this? What’s in it for you? Assuming you are in fact my mother - why are you here now? Don’t you think that thirty-four years is a little late to play house?”
She stared at me shrewdly before sneering. “Oh, poor Grace. Abused, and left to live alone. I don’t know how you made it this far in life. The beautiful son, the successful career and the friends who would do anything for you must be rough to accept. It must be so hard being you. Oh boo hoo.”
“Now wait a min-.” I didn’t get to finish, she cut me off.
She crossed her arms and leaned over me. “Damn it. I thought you would be ready. It’s taken you years to just figure out that you could make it in this world without someone taking care of you. I’ve waited and watched for years as you tore yourself down and let others walk all over you for the sake of normalcy.” She made air quotes around that last word and rolled her eyes.
“Sometimes, it takes hitting bottom for someone to pull themselves out of the shit that they’re mired in. I don’t have time to wait for you to grow up any more Grace. I need you to pull your shit together now so that existence as we know it doesn’t end. Even now, I look at you and hesitate because I’m not sure that you can cut it. Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice.”
She took a deep breath, as if looking for the right words. My jaw hadn’t re-attached itself yet, it was still on the floor. There’s brutal honesty and then there’s a small touch of sadistic bitchiness. Guess which one I was leaning toward.
I opened my mouth to interrupt and she chopped downwards with her hand cutting me off. “No, it’s not time for you to talk right now. I’m going to lay this on you and we’ll go from there.”
Placing her hands behind her back, she started pacing like a General in front of his troops. It looked like she was having a conversation with herself. Back and forth she went, wearing a trail in the carpet. Occasionally she would wave her hands around and shake her head like she had just disagreed with herself. I wondered who was winning the argument.
This continued for at least fifteen minutes before she finally stopped, inhaled and then said, “Okay this is the deal. I’ll give you the back-story, because it’s important for you to understand why we’ve been brought together now. We need you. This reality needs a Hero and you are the only hope we have left.”
“Why?”
“Question and answer time afterward. For now, just listen.” She waited for me to nod in agreement. So I did. Whoever said that I wasn’t a good little girl had lied.
“Over the years, our race has reproduced sparingly. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find the right mate in the right conditions to make sure that we had healthy, normal looking children.” She caught my wide eyed glance and grinned.
“No Grace, we’re not aliens. You haven’
t been abducted by ET.”
My relief was so profound that my body shuddered visibly. I’d read enough conspiracy theory books to realize that being abducted by little green men was not something to sing about in the songs of poetry. I sure as hell didn’t want to be probed.
She opened her mouth, closed it, rolled her eyes and sighed. “You may have heard of me. The Greeks called me the Goddess Diana.” She threw her hands up in a mock curtsey and exclaimed, “Ta-Da!”
So many sarcastic retorts came to mind. She stood there looking hopeful and a little ragged, perhaps more vulnerable. Blurting out the first thing that came to mind was probably not the best idea. Not knowing what to say and admittedly curious, I just nodded for her to continue.
“You accept this?”
“Well, I can’t say that I accept it. It sounds pretty far-fetched really. But if you believe it - more power to you.” Smiling with - I hoped – encouragement, I waved her on. How many steps would it take to get to the door? Too many. Plus, the pocket flashlight I carried wouldn’t make a great weapon, so it wasn’t like there was much of a choice but to hear her out.
She began to fidget which made her look a little more human. “We MAY have perpetuated the myth that we were gods at one point. It was amusing for a while and when you are as long lived as our race is, things tend to get a little boring without diversions.”
She had the good grace to look embarrassed at this. “But I can assure you that we appreciate this modern era much more. Showers were a godsend and as technology advanced, we realized that the notoriety wasn’t as useful to what we were trying to accomplish.”
“And, what is that?” I asked, looking at her expectantly, letting her know that I was ready for her to get to the point.
“Right, so where was I? Okay, there aren’t a lot of babies happening. We plan these things down to the last detail. It’s become a rather sterile process and well,” She took a deep breath and blushed a bit. “I didn’t do that with you. I went back home, had a fling and got pregnant. You are the first full blooded Alancean born on Earth in three-thousand years.”
Huntress (A Grace Murphy Novel) Page 2
