"Well, I may have exaggerated a bit," she says looking slightly guilty. "I mean, I could have met him at the hospital."
"What does that even mean?" I bite out, now completely out of patience with the conversation. "What exactly are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I found your father in the mountains, just like you found 'Tanzy' now, and that he, and she, are not of this world."
Staring at her in disbelief, I find myself laughing abruptly before standing and stalking to the other end of the kitchen to pull down the coffee mugs. "Have you and Marcus been doing peyote again?" I grimace, trying to find a reason why my mother would suddenly flake out on me now. She's always been a bit dreamy and out there, but this was embracing a whole new level of craziness.
Looking affronted, she glares back at me, "Don't take that tone with me, Dixon. I never thought I'd have to tell you the truth, but it looks like I have no choice now. That girl is from another planet, just as your father was, and when she wakes up you're going to have to prepare yourself to listen without judgment. If she's here on this planet it means she's in trouble. And we're going to have to do our best to help her, just as I did for your father."
Pouring the coffee silently, I take my time mixing in sugar and cream, keeping my back to Martina so that she can't see the struggle behind my eyes. My mind simply can't comprehend the story that she's reciting so calmly with conviction as she sits there. It's like someone else has taken over her body, saying words that make absolutely no sense. Taking a sip of my coffee, I scald my tongue and immediately start puffing my checks like a blowfish trying to ease the burning, before sitting resolutely next to her at the table, handing her a mug.
"Okay," I venture, "let's say for the sake of argument that my father was from another...planet," I can barely get the words out. "How did he end up here? And what actually happened to him? You said he left us for another woman. Are you telling me that's not true either?"
Taking a sip of her coffee, she looks at me carefully before stating, "They came for him and he was forced to go back home." Tapping her fingers against her mug, she glances off into the distance as if recalling a memory.
"He made me leave him because he didn't want them to know about you. He said that if they ever found out that he had a child, we would be forced to go with him. And that Krysalis was not a safe place to be right now. That it wouldn't be safe for you. That there would be too many people who would want to control you."
"But why?" I ask confused. "What could they want with a child who couldn't even read at that point?"
Looking me squarely in the eye, Martina carefully lowered her cup to the table and I saw the small tremble in her hands as she stared at me starkly before saying, "Power."
Chapter Forty-One
Tanzy
My eyes blink open once more to the murmur of voices in the next room and the slight clacking sound coming from the furry bundle on my chest. It's as if my body is heavy; it has mass and raw nerve endings that light up without the tempered filter of my silica. Unknown sensations course through me as I feel what I can only describe as an itch encasing my arms. Lifting them from the soft platform, I turn them from front to back, trying to find a difference in their appearance. On the surface, they appear to be the same arms I've always had. My hands are still small, my fingers are still short. Laz always jokes about how small they are; that his hands practically swallow mine when we touch. Even more so with Jasper.
Looking further down my body, I realize that I am draped in some sort of covering that lays softly across my body. Broad swaths of color dance across the surface in contradictory patterns that swirl over the surface before ending in knots with stray threads.
Carefully I try to stretch my muscles and shift on my perch, flexing each group of tendons in such a way as to ease the cramping tension that I've felt for so many hours. I would love to get up and stretch fully but I'm not certain if that is permitted or advisable under the circumstances. Instead, I focus on the slight ball of fluff on my chest and again caress the softness, running my hand around its tiny eyes and nose, only to be rewarded by a small nip that makes me cry out as I draw my hand away quickly.
A scraping sound echos from the other room as I watch a small bead of blood well to the surface of my finger and stare in fascination at the richness of the color. I've never experienced my own bloodletting before. I'm mesmerized by the thought that I can actually be hurt this way. And yet, it's not like the wounds I've seen on my planet. To bleed on Krysalis means your silica has been shattered and that you've experienced a mortal wound. Even I can rarely heal a wound of that caliber.
The male named Dixon quickly enters the room looking concerned as I suck my finger into my mouth, drawing the small bead of blood to my tongue, the taste coppery and at the same time sweet.
"Squeazel! That's no way to treat a guest," he says sternly striding forward and grabbing the small being from my chest before bringing its small nose to his own. "Mind your manners," he says before turning back to me with a sheepish expression on his face.
"I apologize. He rarely does that; I don't know what got into him. Are you okay?" Shifting uncertainly, he glances back toward the kitchen as if waiting for... what was her name? Martina... to enter behind him.
Dropping into a seat next to where I lie, he shifts uncomfortably as if not certain what to say. "Martina said she believes you are from Krysalis." The words are clearly a statement but there's an air of puzzlement as if he doesn't believe it.
Looking at him warily, I nod once before agreeing, "I am from Krysalis. But I was on Hema before I fell."
Watching the wrinkling of his brow, I'm fascinated by the structure of his face. Silver shines from the dark edges of his hair around his ears, and threads through his brows and the scruff on his chin. The soft moss green of his eyes matches the glow that emanates from his aura. Fine hairs cover his forearms which are bared under the rolled edges of his sleeves and I can see more traces at the apex of his neck where his shirt ‘v's at his collarbone.
A deep breath expands his solid chest, as he just sits silently observing me, a worried look marring his expression. It's as if he's trying to solve an equation by putting together the data needed to come to some type of conclusion.
Hesitantly, I gesture to the small being clasped in his hands. "Is he well?"
Looking puzzled, the male looks down, stroking the small body absently as if he had already forgotten he was holding him, before smiling faintly. "He's fine. I hope he didn't hurt you."
Smiling, I shake my head on the pillow, reaching a hand gently toward the Squeazel being again; a peace offering meant to soothe. "What is it?" I ask, searching for any conversation to ease the tension between us.
"He's a chipmunk," Dixon says looking down and stroking the small fluff. "They don't normally become domesticated, but I saved him from a hawk one day and he hasn't left my side since."
Puzzling over the words, I nod seriously. "It's an honor to save a life. That makes you of the protector class." Frowning in confusion, I can't help but state the obvious. "But you are a Green, not a Red."
It's clear that he doesn't understand my concerns. "You act as a protector. Those of the Red class are our protectors," I state simply, expecting agreement as he continues to look at me with a small frown.
"Why can't I be 'Red'?" he asks, as if he doesn't understand his own nature.
Frustrated, I find myself gesturing broadly at his being. "Because you are a Green," I state again with conviction. "Just as I am a Violet."
"Okay," he says in an appeasing tone and I can tell he doesn't understand. Don't these beings have translators? "What does it mean to be a Violet?" he asks with what I can tell is genuine curiosity.
"I'm a healer and an empath," I say, gesturing at my being proudly, for once comfortable with my role and status. After all, it's that status that brought me to Jasper and I would never regret that which created our bond. Feeling slightly deflated, I suddenly realize that is also what brought
me to be here, in this room, with these strange beings.
"What is Martina?" Looking toward the doorway, I whisper, "She should not exist."
Dixon sits back in his chair, surprise arching his brows as he ponders my question. "What do you mean? Of course she exists. What do you think she should be?"
"I'm a Pink," Martina says softly as she enters the room, a steaming cup in her hand extended toward me. I struggle to unburden myself of the fabric draping me and Dixon leans forward to grasp my arm to help pull me upright. Again, I gasp at the electric tingle that zips along my nerve endings where his hand connects to my body, shivering at the sensation before warmth floods my being once again.
"Are you okay?" he asks as I nod, my bangs flopping lightly across my brow as I push them impatiently out of the way, to eye Martina again as she hands me the mug.
"It's hot," she cautions before gesturing for me to drink as I peek over the rim of the cup before inhaling the heady aroma of mint and chamomile. My mind settles as the essence of the herbs soothe my soul, warming me from the inside out. My eyes drift closed for a moment and I envision being back in my own suite curled on the platform with Laz and Jasper beside me, before blinking back the tears that begin to well in the corner of my eyes. No, I will not give in to those thoughts. I will feel their vibration again; whatever it takes.
Steeling my spine I straighten, turning to drop my legs to the floor. Noticing the widening of Dixon's eyes as he sees my bare legs through the slit in my flottoms, I blush as his eyes drift higher to rest on my full breasts straining against my tank top, which has become twisted around me. Swiveling his eyes toward Martina he asks, "What does that mean, you're a Pink?"
Looking from Dixon to Martina, I wait to see if she will answer, because I don't really know what that means. But I'm intrigued that she clearly knows what her essence is, unlike Dixon who seems very uneducated as to his true nature. Maybe it’s because no one has ever seen a Green here before either. They don't recognize the significance.
I wait in suspense for Martina to speak, wondering what great mystery is about to unfold. In all my research of the planets' histories, I don't remember ever seeing anything to indicate that Earthlings have a vibrational nature. At least not one as we know it. My heart beats faster at the prospect. If that is true, do we even need Obsidian? Can we just use humans to help populate Kysalis?
Sighing, Martina eases herself down next to me, dropping her clasped hands between her legs, her shoulders drooping before tilting her head away to look at me directly.
"Dixon's father was a Green," she says simply shrugging her shoulders. "I healed him when I found him half shattered in the desert. He said I borrowed some of his vibrational energy; not enough to become a Red or Blue, just enough to scale to pink."
My jaw drops as I stare at her in wonder. I can't wrap my logical mind around the idea. I must look as stunned as I feel because she smiles gently at me before saying, "I wasn't sure I even still had color until you looked at me that way. I thought it faded when Jaden left."
I suck my breath in sharply at her words, Jaden's image flashing in my mind, wondering how any of this is possible. It can't be possible that Dixon is Jaden's offshoot. Although, Jaden was of the generation that should have procreated. Drawing my brows together I realize that it's odd that he didn't have offshoots. Searching through my memory, I realize that the histories don't talk much about him before he ascended to the Spectrum. Why is that?
"But, how?" I start, then stop abruptly, gathering my thoughts. "How did Jaden get back to Krysalis? And why didn't he bring you with him?"
Smiling sadly, Martina blows a stray hair out of her face before touching my cheek gently and smiling fondly at Dixon. "He said it was much safer for us here. That Krysalis was in turmoil and that he didn't want that type of future for Dix or me."
"But that had to have been almost a centon ago." My mind spins with the words, nothing about this makes sense. Why would Jaden leave behind a bondmate and offshoot? Especially given his powers? My mouth drops open as I inhale abruptly, suddenly understanding.
"He was already bonded, wasn't he?" I ask, my voice breaking at the thought. "They wanted him back to complete the Spectrum. You would have jeopardized that bond." I fall back against the cushioned rest, stunned by the implication.
All the time they had us searching for ways to regenerate our society and increase our ability to create offshoots, and Jaden already had one waiting in the wings. Was he being selfish by not acknowledging that he knew how to regenerate our species, or would it really have been dangerous for Dixon and Martina if others knew? I wish Jasper was here. Of all of us, he would have quickly grasped the implications and understood what this means. Or Titan certainly would.
Grasping at straws, I ask the only thing that I can think of in this moment. "So, how do I get home?"
Epilogue
Laz
My energy twitches with impatience as I wait for Tanzy to check in. It’s clear that Hema has nothing to recommend it and that whoever believed there were hemat mines there was misguided. She’s known that since the first moonsphase and yet she’s still stalling down on the surface. I don’t want to ruin her sense of adventure, but my energy feels stretched and uncomfortable without her around. Even when she was training with Amet they were never gone more than two or three moonsphases. Of course they also never left our atmosphere.
Titan seems just as annoyed as I am. I’ve seen him in the lab more in the last several sunphases, than I did when Jasper and Tanzy were here on Krysalis. It’s almost like he’s restless and on edge too, which is odd considering I’m the one missing my bondmate. In fact, it’s about time for him to make his usual appearance to harass me about why Tanzy is still there, and to use my influence to get her to declare the mission a waste of time and resources.
The hiss of the airlock elicits a sigh as I turn in anticipation of seeing Titan’s usual austere expression of annoyance directed my way. The look of panic etched across his face alarms me more than anything else could. Until he finally speaks.
“Laz, there’s been an explosion…”
The End
Acknowledgments
Some books are a labor of love. This one kicked my ass. From the very beginning it wanted to be told backwards, in a fashion that defies the way a story is normally told. If you’ve made it this far – “Thank You” for soldiering on. I tried to make this story something that would capture your imagination, but in the end I decided to just tell the story the way I saw it in my head, whether it made sense or not.
There are a few people who have become tireless cheerleaders and who continually lift me up when the going gets rough; Stacey, Jessica F, Jessica R, and Christina F. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, but I thank the universe every day for your presence in my life.
Thank you to my amazing Betas who tried to keep me on track despite my best efforts to confound you: Paula, Annie, Katrina, Renee, Jessica, Stacey and Alicia. Feel free to send me the bill for any therapy necessary.
And to my PIC Chloe, my doubt wrangler Loxley, and all my girls of the Clitterati (Lana, Jarebear, Katie, KitKat, Leash, and Rainbow Bright) thank you for helping to set me on the path.
As for you my readers: Tune those frequencies… May your Auras shine bright.
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About the Author
Mercy DeSimone is the pen name of a corporate refugee who decided that life was meant to be more fun. She now works in the Beauty industry where she is finally able to indulge her love of lipstick and rainbow hair colors. A self-professed champagne snob, cocktail enthusiast and overall Queen of Useless Trivia, she is fluent in Schoolhouse Rock and indulges her caffeine addiction 5 shots of espresso at a time.
Mercy believes that life has a soundtrack and is an avid music lover. She creates Spotify playlist
s for every book she writes. Her Spectral Vibrations playlist is an eclectic assortment of old school vinyl and new alt/indie vibes that help tell the story lyrically.
Spectral Vibrations Spotify Playlist
When not writing and listening to music, she can be found whipping up cocktails and contributing pins to her Pinterest boards for FoodPorn and Great Wines For Wine Snobs On a Budget.
Don’t be a stranger (but it’s ok to be strange...strange is cool)
Come hang out with Mercy’s Mercynaries in Merciful Haven for the latest games, music, and writing news.
Spectral Vibrations Page 24