“Been with me my whole life?” she echoed his absurd claim.
“Yes. It is my mission to ensure your safety and guide you as you mature, as your powers strengthen.”
“All right, enough! This crap has to stop. Even if this is some kind of hallucination, it’s got to stop. I can’t listen to this crazy shit anymore!”
“You’re saying all of this is crazy, but deep down, you know it’s true. The moment you saw me on the side of the road, you knew. You recognized me.”
She wanted to deny it, wanted to tell him he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but he was right. Something had clicked when she’d seen him, something hidden deep within her had sprung forth like a sudden recollection from a vague dream or a missing puzzle piece appearing unexpectedly after days of looking for it. He had appeared like the missing puzzle piece or muddled face from a long-forgotten dream.
“I don’t even know your name,” she said and decided not to refute his claim.
“My name is Desmond.”
“Desmond what?” she asked and expected a last name.
“Desmond, and nothing more,” he replied cryptically.
“What, so you’re like Cher or Madonna? No last name?” she joked.
He did not laugh or smile, just stared at her with his crystal-blue eyes.
“Okay, this is awkward. Don’t you know who those women are?”
“Yes, of course.”
“It was a joke. I was joking. You know, trying to be funny.”
“I know what you were trying to be, that you were trying to defuse a situation you cannot control with humor. You do that a lot.”
The lack of emotion coming from his benevolent face seemed wrong. Arianna felt heat prickle up her neck, anger partnering with it.
“Please save your armchair assessment of me, Desmond. I was trying to be funny, that’s all. No deeper meaning behind it,” she said and hated that she sounded so defensive.
“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,” he said earnestly and she felt frustrated anew. “But I think we’re getting off topic here.”
“Off topic? Are you kidding me?” she railed. “I didn’t even know there was a topic to be off of.”
“Yes you do. We were talking about you, why I’ve been watching you, what you are,” he said evenly.
His calm demeanor was grating on her nerves, how he spoke so offhandedly alleging she had powers and what, as opposed to whom, she was. She was Arianna Rose, just as she’d always been, and he was a crackpot figment of her drugged imagination.
“Stop it! Just stop talking about watching me and what I am. I’m going to wake from this soon, so don’t bother trying to sell me your brand of crazy.”
“You set a man on fire back at the club, you, with your powers.”
She felt a fine sheen of perspiration collect and cover her brow. Her palms slickened with sweat as she remembered the pure rage that had coursed through her veins before the man had burst into flames. The man that had slammed Stephanie against the wall and drew blood from her head, the one who’d torn Stephanie’s underwear from her body and lifted her skirt like an animal before trying to rape her, appeared in her mind’s eye. She had wanted him to burn for what he had been about to do, for what he’d done. He had placed a blade to Stephanie’s throat and had threatened to kill her. Arianna had felt fury flood her core so fully, it had drowned her. Even still, the thought of him made her insides tremble with wrath. His screams, his pleas for help, had meant nothing to her then. But now, her wrath was tinged with another emotion, one she struggled to name.
“Yes, you are very powerful,” Desmond said staring at her unwaveringly, as if seeing the vision her memory produced as easily as she did. “That’s the reason I’m here, the reason I’ve always been here with you. You are the chosen one, the one we call the Sola.”
“The what?” she managed, her voice a strangled whisper.
“The Sola, you are the Sola. You are the lone one, the most powerful one among us, who will unite us all.”
“Us? Who’s us?”
“Some would call you a witch and me a warlock, but those are such ugly, hollow terms, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’m a witch?” she gasped.
“I prefer to call you a seer. Your powers are not of this world.”
“So I’m Arianna the Seer?”
“No, you’re Arianna Rose, the Sola,” he corrected.
Her head began to swim, reeling and whirling with conflicting emotions. She had always been aware of her differences from others, peripherally at least, but had always attributed those differences to her mother’s lifestyle choices, as well as her own. The fact that she’d escaped injury unscathed time after time and had avoided the effects of both drink and drugs further supported that she was unlike most people. She found herself awash with confusion. She wondered whether she was lucid, whether what was happening was real. Desmond’s words had struck a chord. They’d touched upon a yawning stretch of her being that had always ached for identification, for validation. And now she finally had a name for it: witch.
“Okay,” she murmured. “So I’m a witch, I mean, the Sola. I am supposed to unite all the witches and warlocks of where, and for what?”
“You will unite the witches of the world. They will know of your coming of age, of the dawn of your true powers. They will sense the shift in their own powers and they will know.”
Arianna was speechless. What he was saying, as insane as it sounded, resonated within her. All of her life, she had never felt as though she’d belonged. She’d never felt as if she’d found her place among any of her peers, among anyone. Lily Andrews, a girl two years younger than her who had been the closest thing to a best friend she’d ever had, had been the only person she’d felt remotely at ease around. But her friendship with Lily had been brief, as brief as her mother’s relationship with Carl, and she’d been relegated to her usual station: feeling like a square peg being forced into a round opening; until now. Desmond’s words resounded deep inside of her.
“And why do they, uh we, need to be united?” she asked and felt an instinctive sense of warning wash over her.
“Because we are being hunted,” he said and trained his sky-blue eyes on her.
“Hunted? Why? By who?”
“We are being hunted as part of a search.”
“A search for what?”
“For you.”
“For me?”
“There are many people who want you dead,” he said solemnly. “They are killing off witches, one at a time, in search of you.”
Her mind began to spin again as the rational part of her brain attempted to deny what her heart, what her entirety, knew to be true.
“People are dying, for me?” she asked weakly.
“I will not let you die, I assure you,” he said and misinterpreted her quiet revulsion at people dying because of her as worry for her own welfare.
“I’m not worried about dying, Desmond,” she said more forcefully. “I just can’t wrap my mind around the fact that people are actually dying because of me, because someone out there wants me dead.”
“Do not feel guilty, Arianna,” he said soothingly. “They would have been hunted no matter what. The people who hunt you want all witches dead. The real witches that died knew they were dying for a greater good. They did so without prolonged pain or suffering. Their spirits were returned to the earth, wind, fire and water.”
She wondered whether he actually thought she would be appeased by others accepting their death and only suffering a little as opposed to a lot. And he had made reference to real witches. Had there been fake witches?
Arianna raked her hand through her hair then rubbed the back of her neck. The muscles near her collar complained, bunching and tensing. “That’s all well and good that their spirits went back to nature, but they are dead! And all because of me! How the hell am I supposed to feel about that?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he began but she cut
him off.
“And what did you mean when you said real witches who died? Were there witch impostors who died, too?”
Desmond glared at her, aiming his ethereal cerulean eyes at her as though he sought to bore a hole in her head. “No, Arianna, there were no witch impostors, just innocent people who had been curious about witchcraft,” he spat.
His words stung. He had not spoken them with an accusatory tone, but guilt weighed upon her with leaden heaviness, nonetheless. And how could it not? She felt horrified at the notion of witches dying in her stead, but innocent, powerless people dying was more than she could bear.
Tears burned behind her lids. She fluttered her lashes, trying in vain to blink them away, but more came and streamed down her cheeks.
Seeing her cry, Desmond’s demeanor softened visibly.
“It is a tragedy, Sola. I know. But we mustn’t focus on the past now. We need to prepare for what is to come.”
“I can’t imagine it’s worse than this,” she said.
“It’s much worse. I will not lie to you about that. There is a man who has made it his sole purpose in life to find and kill witches, or anyone who stands in his way. And he is getting close.”
“Close? Close to us?”
“Yes, too close. He was just outside of Rockdale when your situation there changed.”
“What? He was in Rockdale?” she asked unable to mask the alarm in her voice.
“Yes, but I was able to get you out of there in time.”
“Wait, what? You didn’t do anything in Rockdale. I never saw you there.”
“I did do something,” Desmond confessed.
“What did you do, Desmond?”
“I nudged Carl to come home, influenced him if you will, so that he would come home that night and find your mother with his cousin.”
Arianna had found it strange that Carl had returned the night he’d found her mother with his cousin. Generally, when Carl had set up shop on a barstool, he had been very reluctant to leave. When her mother had begun her affair with his cousin, Carl would go to their local haunt without her and nothing short of a fire in the bar would have given him cause to leave it. Desmond’s involvement in that scenario made sense.
“It did shock me when Carl came home before the bartender kicked him out,” she admitted. “You must have some serious powers to have gotten him out of there before closing time.”
Desmond smiled; a wide, warm smile that lit up his entire face. “It did sap a tremendous amount of my strength to move him off that barstool.”
Arianna laughed. Laughing felt good considering the gravity of her predicament, that lives had been claimed because of her. Desmond laughed, as well. The sound was pleasant and buoyed her spirits somewhat.
“What do we do now?” Arianna asked and shifted their interaction away from its lightheartedness.
“I think it’s time to get back to the club,” Desmond replied.
“Oh no! The club, I forgot about the club! My friends are going to freak out that I left, especially after what happened right before I left,” she worried.
“No need to worry. They won’t even know you were gone,” he said in his tranquil tone.
“What, I mean, how is that possible?” she asked, but he did not answer. He took her hand in his instead, and she felt a tingle begin in her hand and travel up her arm as softly as a breath blowing across her skin, warm and welcoming. Within seconds, she felt his energy flowing through her, thrumming in time with her heartbeat, whispering through every part of her. The scenic paradise around her began to melt, evaporating into obscurity. All that remained was Desmond’s face, beautiful and serene, perfectly sculpted as if it had been carved from marble, staring at her, through her. He pulled her close to him, wrapped his arms around her, and she felt her breath catch in her chest. Light filled her field of vision, brilliant white light. Desmond and his warmth surrounded her, covering her body with wisps of awareness, light and feathery. Her entire body quivered pleasantly. Her worries and fears ebbed as if they were froth. And she was gone again.
Chapter 13
It wasn’t until darkness encroached and a chill raced over her, eclipsing the light and peace she’d felt seconds earlier, that she realized she and Desmond were huddled together in the Blue Ivy nightclub once again. Music thundered from mammoth speakers and beams of light pulsed and swept over the crowd. She felt Desmond’s arms around her then in an instant, they were gone. Arianna looked up and expected to see his glorious face, but realized he’d disappeared. A scrawny guy with baggy jeans, a rainbow mohawk and a nose ring stood where he had been. The guy smiled at her and she turned from him. In her mind, she swore she heard Desmond’s laugh echo followed by a faint message. “I’ll see you soon,” his voice whispered. Though he wasn’t there, she felt the heat of his breath at her ear and a warm tingle stole through her. Her eyes scanned the club for Desmond. She knew he was gone, could feel it, but looked anyway. She did not see him, just as she’d suspected, but saw Luke.
Luke waved and signaled for her to join him. A part of her ached; deeply and inexplicably, she smarted, inundated with an undefined emotion. She moved toward Luke, through the gyrating throng, toward a life she would never fully be a part of.
Stephanie rejoined her and was crying. Rivulets of black streaked her face and her platinum hair was ruffled. A small puncture wound at the base of her neck trickled bright-red blood. Just as Desmond had said, no time had passed for Stephanie. In her mind, the men in the alleyway had just tried to attack them and had been freakishly thwarted. Stephanie had not had reprieve from it. Arianna had. But Arianna’s reprieve had been anything but a break from what had happened. To the contrary, she had been made aware of a far graver threat than two thugs in a darkened alleyway. She had found out that she’s a witch. The reality of all that had happened, all she’d been told, sent a shiver through her. She wrapped her arm around Stephanie’s shoulders, her need for physical contact, for connection, replacing any awkwardness she might have otherwise felt for her action.
“That man was on fire,” Stephanie kept muttering. “The one who tried to, who tried to,” she struggled but was racked by sobs.
“I know,” Arianna attempted to comfort her, but her words were drowned out by the music of the club.
“He tried to rape me, and then he was burning,” she cried.
Consoling Stephanie would be difficult anywhere. But with deafening music blasting all around them, it would be nearly impossible. Arianna tightened her grip around Stephanie. Any other time, she would have expected Stephanie to balk at such a gesture, to stiffen and shrug her off if she did not shove her outright. But after what had happened, Stephanie seemed to welcome it.
Nestled against each other, Arianna shepherded Stephanie to the far corner of the nightclub where Luke and the others had set up camp. He smiled and waved until he saw his sister’s face. His smile collapsed to a hard line and his hand dropped to his side and balled into a fist. He shoved past several people and was at their side immediately.
“What happened?” he demanded.
Arianna hesitated to speak, unsure of what the hell she was going to tell him. The truth was not a possibility and for obvious reasons. But any variation was a slippery slope to navigate as she was uncertain of just how much Stephanie remembered. Not only had Stephanie taken the drug ecstasy, she’d also been drinking before her head had been slammed against a brick wall. Her consciousness had been spotty during their time in the alley at best.
“These two guys tried to attack us,” Stephanie managed, her voice quivering with raw emotion.
“Attack you? Attack you how?” Luke said and Arianna could see his anger brimming.
“Th-th-they tried to rape us,” she stammered and began crying anew.
“What!” Luke exploded.
Bulldog, Beth, Mike, Carrie, Ryan and Christa looked toward them in alarm then, seeing the state Stephanie was in, made their way over to join Luke.
“What the fuck happened?”
Bulldog asked.
Stephanie crumpled into her brother’s arms unable to say anything more. Arianna realized she would be forced to speak. She took a deep breath and steeled herself.
“We went out that exit door,” she said and gestured over her shoulder with her thumb to a pair of black doors that led to the outside. “We went to smoke and when the doors shut, we were locked out. While we were smoking, these guys came up to us. They started talking at first only we made it clear we didn’t want to be bothered. They weren’t too happy about that and they grabbed us and tried to attack us.”
“Motherfuckers!” Mike spat.
“They still back there?” Bulldog asked and Arianna could see the muscles in his jaw flexing angrily.
“No,” Stephanie said. “That was the weird part. The guy that was trying to, the guy that was on top of me burst into flames. Arianna’s eyes turned red, like they were on fire or something and then the guy just burst into flames.”
A stunned silence befell the group. Furtive glances were exchanged among everyone before they all lingered on Arianna. Arianna’s mouth went dry and her heart slammed wildly against her ribcage. Apparently, Stephanie had witnessed more than she had originally thought.
“Red eyes? Steph, what’re you talking about?” Christa asked gently.
“Yeah, Arianna’s eyes are brown,” Carrie added.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m fucking crazy,” Stephanie yelled. “I know what I saw!”
The conviction in her voice was compelling. Arianna would have believed her, regardless of how preposterous it may have sounded, if she were anyone else in the group. After all, what Stephanie was saying was true. Arianna had experienced it, had seen her field of vision veiled in a translucent shroud of crimson, had felt the heat radiating from them, from her entire body, before she’d lifted her hand and produced an arc of fire that burned him. But no one could know what had happened. Not even Stephanie. Arianna needed to convince them that it hadn’t happened. She needed to mention the ecstasy that Stephanie had taken.
Arianna's Awakening (Arianna Rose Part 1 & The Awakening Part 2) Page 13
