How could she ask that of him anymore than she could ask that of herself? It didn't matter that their father didn't return that love, or wasn't capable of it. And so clearly damaged her twin in such brutal ways. You didn't make someone hate their father—that was a cruel thing.
But he did. Colby loathed his father, and he'd come to that conclusion on his own. But as much as he loathed him, he could not bring himself to twist it into a severing of their relationship. He saw himself as part of the problem. He was weak. His father wouldn't have been so hard on him had he not been so weak.
And yet the other side of his thoughts were the worst part of it all—Colby thought of himself as a prize to be sold off to the highest bidder. He'd been forgotten. Abandoned. Left with a man they all knew was evil—because that was his part to play in this prophecy. And the shame and contempt was releasing itself in a torrent of raw, uncontrolled emotion that was sucking the three of them into a mind vortex, of sorts, from which they could not escape.
Colby had been used. By everyone—and he was not wrong.
Meghan, her mother and grandmother, they might not have intended it this way, but they'd done this to him. They'd knowingly left him with his father—Meghan hadn't even questioned if there was another way. She created the prophecy and had just assumed it had to be the exact way it had gone down. But did it? Could she have changed Colby's life? Put herself in his place?
Meghan attempted to push back—and tell him that his worth was so much more than this. But her actions, other's actions, had proved otherwise. And mere words and spewed apologies proved nothing.
CHAPTER 19
Colby gasped, and rolled onto his back. He felt the connection with Meghan and Colin—like their minds were linking together in some way they'd never done before. It was his fault it was happening. He had no control of his mind and he was sucking them into his chaos. He didn't want them in his head, but there was no stopping it. He had no strength in him to try to fight it.
Maybe it was best this way.
No more secrets. Everything out in the open. No more hiding behind the excuses that he was doing his father's wishes. Or that he pretty much hated and blamed everyone else for his crappy life. And yet did not.
He recognized it wasn't everyone else's fault, not really. But at the same time, the feeling kept surfacing anyway, he couldn't help it. He also had a need to make up for his own mistakes. The mix of emotions was all over the place.
He apologized to Colin for all the times he'd tried to kill him—it came out in a blubbery mess that came through more in the emotion of it, than the actual expression of words. He'd never really hated the guy. Colin had been made an enemy by his father—his father had wanted what Colin had possession of.
Colby had never questioned why. He'd simply obeyed.
There was no response from Colin, his own mind was locked inside with them, but more concerned about something else he was trying to access.
Meghan attempted to reach out to Colby with her own long line of apologies and heartbreak—all aimed at him. It only made it worse, his emotions breaking down even further if that was possible. She loved him—she honestly did. He couldn't understand how. Twins or not. Siblings or not. How could she just love him, so unconditionally?
It wasn't her fault all this had happened. It really wasn't.
But she was pretty sure it was. She was responsible for his life. And even though parts of him had bitter thoughts like this, he realized this was not true. The blame belonged only with one person—his father. He was the reason any of this had happened. And yet Meghan cried out apology after apology. And he wanted to accept them but he wasn't able to because try as he might, he was far too angry with everyone.
It wasn't their fault.
But, in many ways, they'd abandoned him.
Forgotten about him.
Written him off.
Let him suffer through life with an evil man, because that's what they needed him to do. That was his part in this prophecy.
The only thing keeping him from falling—more like curling up and dying—was Jae. The guy didn't let go—not that Colby was capable of releasing him at this point.
It was becoming obvious to Jae that something else was going on, and having the knowledge about the mind connections, and hearing the occasional mumbling of his sister's or Colin's names, it wasn't hard to put together they were in each other's minds.
Colby's eyes went hazy in between the flayed nerves, swollen features, and sobs he had no control over. Jae repositioned himself against the side wall and pulled Colby upward so he was leaning against his chest. He pulled a blanket over them and slid his arms underneath and around Colby, who gripped onto Jae like he was afraid if he let go the guy might vanish right out from underneath him.
Jae's head dropped to lean against Colby's. "I've got you. I'm not leaving. I've got you."
Elisha paced anxiously at the foot of the bed.
"What's happening?" Jae asked her mutedly, in between soft reassurances to Colby.
"He's… he's… going back so far. Reliving every memory, like he cannot stop it." And it left him in a state of total helplessness.
"Is Meghan in his head?"
"Yes. Colin too. But it's like none of them can break out. They are all stuck inside Colby's mind. But it's more than that. It's… the Stone. Their connection to the Stone is strengthening the connection. I think because—for the first time—they are letting it. Or, the emotional outpouring from Colby is, forcing it. I'm not sure. It's just—bad. He cannot escape it."
Jae nodded and peered down at Colby. And for once he was grateful that he was only an outside witness, which was horrific enough. Elisha pawed at her Master's leg, mournfully. She was in there too, watching all the memories he'd buried deep as they forced their way upward.
Things Colby didn't want to remember—things that now only further proved exactly how little his father was capable of love. The level of manipulation, a frightening realization his mind wasn't capable of processing. And now he'd sucked Meghan and Colin into his demise too. But they needed to know what he'd gone through. Part of him wanted them to see it—like a punishment—to shame them all for this life he had no choice over. And then he was riddled with even more guilt for thinking like that.
Jae held onto Colby with constant reassurances, determined to see him through this as Elisha did her best to explain what she saw. Which was sadly, one agonizing heartbreak leading to another. So few good memories— some only now, even recognizable as such, having actual good memories to compare them to.
CHAPTER 20
Nona was explaining the same things to Sebastien and Ivan, as Elisha was to Jae, and none of them had any clue how to sever the connection. The main reason to try—they feared Colin might lose control of his magic while in this trance-like state, which was a much more frightening prospect. And an extreme possibility, considering the silvery haze turning their living space into some kind of dream-like, surround sound, walk-through, theater.
"Go find Jasper!" Ivan ordered Nona. He literally could think of nothing else and they needed the Projector's help.
"Yes. Yes. Of course. Jasper can help." She hoped. Nona darted out the front door unsure where the man was, and began using any fire she could find to pop in and out until she found him.
"Oh man, what's happening now?" Sebastien mumbled. The silvery haze was swirling all around them, getting thicker. He was forced to let go of Meghan when shapes and figures, even voices, took form in the silvery haze.
They gasped when a small boy ran right down the side of the room, his form, a ghostly illusion. The boy was crying, looking for someone…
And this had to be Colin's doing. He'd explained what had happened with Catrina in the lighthouse, and how his dreams had tried to come to life. This had to be the same thing. Except this time, Colin was bringing Colby's dreams to life. Playing them out for all to witness. But in disturbing quickness, it was spinning into a horror flick—a psychological thriller—a r
egular gut-wrenching mind bender of a nightmare that was so troublingly, Colby's real life.
##
A small boy, perhaps three or four years old, begging for his mother to hold him after waking from a bad dream. His mother, Isabella, holding back her own tears, and fury, as Jurekai Fazendiin stalked not far away with a glare in his eyes that warned her not to give in—"You'll make the boy weak, Isabella. Don't forget, you're only here because I allow you to be here."
Isabella tucking Colby back into bed with his father's watchful eye from the doorframe—grumbling under his breath as he glared down at the child. "I had to keep the blubbering, sensitive child."
Aloyna, from her glass prison out in the hall—"All children are sensitive. And I recall a young boy having a bad dream, who I cradled to sleep after." She spoke of her own heartbreak of a son. Not that it would suddenly make him any more sympathetic to his own child. And she was keenly aware that he wondered if perhaps he should have kept the girl, instead. The girl he wasn't supposed to know about—the girl hidden by Isabella. The girl he pretended not to know the existence of.
Like he wouldn't find out? Isabella believed she'd actually succeeded in hiding the girl.
Aloyna knew her son well. Her figure re-formed into the glass inside Colby's bedroom. Her gaze flattened on Fazendiin though, not Colby. "He suited your future design." Her bitter reminder of why he'd chosen the boy.
Colby never understood what his grandmother had meant by that.
And she was free to say so little.
Isabella had pretended not to hear. Lingering as long as she dare, before Fazendiin ordered her away from her son.
"He can cry himself to sleep! It's the only way he's going to learn that weakness will not be tolerated."
##
Another memory merged into the dreams bringing themselves to life—and ripped into the three youngster's minds. This one, from Meghan's memory.
Four years of age. She'd stumbled and skinned her knee. Arnon had been close by and hadn't caught her in time from falling, but scooped her up and told her she'd be okay. She'd cried, but only minutes later was laughing after he'd gently cleaned up the wound, bandaged it, and kissed it, with a promise it would heal fast.
Which had been followed by a tickle fight that included both her and Colin, along with many fits of laughter, which had completely taken her mind off the fall.
##
Colby—a little boy of five, peering longingly out a window, wishing he had a friend to play with. A loud smack of a rod whacking against his tiny little desk. He jumped. "Sorry, Ma'am." And got stiff in his chair and listened keenly to the lesson his mean teacher was giving him—he hated the way she smelled—old and musty. And she was not nice. Threatened to use that rod to strike the right answers out of him if he didn't pay attention, and answer correctly.
Him asking his father, "She wouldn't really hit me with that, would she?"
His father—"She's the teacher, her rules. Best to listen and do as she says."
His mother—a worn out smile. "Best to listen to your father, Colby dea—" cutting herself off with a bite of her tongue. She wasn't allowed to use terms of endearment, only his name.
Fazendiin—a silent warning—your time with the boy is limited.
##
Meghan and Colin—their first day of school with their Uncle Arnon.
They were sitting at the table in his travel trailer, the two of them across from him. And he was teaching them math. Colin was eager and a fast learner. Meghan was bored, did not see the point of learning math, and wanted to know when school was over so she could go outside and play.
Arnon had finally given up after an hour and decided it was time for recess. They'd played hide and seek—she won, like usual. But she'd gotten grumpy again when she found out school wasn't done for the day yet.
##
Another year later—bright blue eyes wide open and busting with tears—why had his mother left? Why couldn't he go with her? She couldn't be gone, not for real. She wouldn't leave him. And yet when Colby had run to her room, she wasn't there. Her stuff wasn't there. Like she'd never been there. Never existed.
He closed his eyes. Opened them. His mother still wasn't there.
Open close. Open close.
He had to be asleep. This had to be a dream.
But every time, no matter how hard he tried to wake himself up—she didn't appear.
The smell of her lingered—he'd laid down on her empty bed, and cried.
She'd come back. Soon. Any minute now.
And he'd wait right here until she did.
His father was lying. His mother would never leave him. Ever. Ever. Ever.
A figure, imprisoned in the stained glass appeared on the wall, offering helpless words of comfort. One of the days this prison of hers was too brutal. So many times, she worried it would all be for nothing. And this poor boy… caught in the middle of it in the most savage manner of all. And so little she could do about it until she was free.
Fazendiin's frigid frame filled the doorway.
He woke Colby with a demand to leave the room at once. Then proceeded to lock the door so he wasn't able to enter it again.
"You're not a baby anymore. So don't act like one. Crying is what babies do. Crying isn’t going to make her come back. You have me now." Like that explained and settled it. He'd spun around and abandoned Colby, a puddle of sadness, tears, and confusion.
##
Summertime in a new campground!
Meghan and Colin were excited. They'd made a new friend today and his name was Sebastien. He was about a year older than them and they'd spent the day down by the lake, playing on the beach and swimming, while his parents and their uncle, had lounged around lazily… in between swatting away black flies.
It was strange though, their uncle almost seemed to know Sebastien's parents. Maybe they'd met before. The owner of the campground too. She was really nice—made them all the best blackberry dumplings they'd ever had. She'd even made the ice cream herself! They were pretty sure this was going to be the best summer ever.
##
A couple of years later—Colby, eight years old, in a lesson with his father—this one—what is fear, and how do we overcome it? Because there was no room for fear! Not in the job his father had planned for him—and not a job his father ever explained, only trained him for.
But in this lesson, he'd been forced to admit his worst fear—he was afraid of the dark—only to find himself dragged down to the basement, shoved into a room that resembled a prison cell, and locked inside.
Old Basil had come down an hour or so later with a basket of food and water.
His instructions—
Don't speak to the boy.
Don’t tell him when he'll get out.
Turn out the lights when you leave.
##
Meghan, waking up Colin from a bad dream. He'd been talking in his sleep. More like, half-screaming in his sleep. It was those stupid bullies again. They'd chased him into the woods and scared him. She'd gotten there in time, though. Showed them a thing or two. They'd think twice before they knocked her little brother down and tried to bury him in the mud again.
She ended up spending the night in his bed though. He was too scared to go back to sleep alone.
##
Meghan—months later—her uncle staring oddly at her.
"You okay? Need help with your homework?"
"No. I'm good. Almost done."
"What's wrong then? You look upset."
She shook her head. "I don't know. I just feel—sad, for some reason." And it wasn't Colin's sadness, because he was already done his homework and a chapter into a new book he was far too excited to read. But she got the oddest sense that it was coming from someone else, not either of them. But it went away after a while, and she forgot about it.
##
Ten-year-old Colby, outside the main house on the estate learning from Basil the caretaker, about where food comes from. A
long and tedious lesson, and honestly, more about helping weed the garden than anything else. But it was outdoors, which was one of Colby's favorite places. The sun. The warmth. The openness. A hint of freedom. So many places on the grounds to get lost—or hide from old Basil. He wasn't so bad, a bit grouchy now and then. But so boring. At least he wasn't Tanzea Chase. She hadn't been around the last few months and he hoped it stayed that way.
Colby, sneaked away after the lesson was over—the weeding was done—and cautiously made his way outside the grounds even though he was not supposed to. He raced down the steep hillside, always making a game out of seeing how fast he could run without falling. He reached the lakeside, out of breath, and found his favorite hideaway cove.
There was a fallen over tree trunk that leaned out over the water and he spent many hours lying on it, watching fish and minnows and bugs in the water below him. Dreaming away the time, wondering what it would be like to swim away anywhere he wanted to—and always, realizing too much time had gone by and he was late getting home.
This one day, however, a strange sound delayed him—a soft meow. A tiny little kitten with two different colored eyes. He'd snatched her up and they belonged to each other instantly. He'd kept her hidden with the help of his grandmother. So he'd thought at least, but nothing got past his father for long.
It was a secret and private joy when his father had discovered the kitten and not taken her away. Or punished him for hiding her. His father explained she was a Catawitch, a loyal partner. Someone who would look out for him and assist him. But to Colby, she was his first real friend, and he named her, Elisha.
##
A birthday party—Meghan, Colin, and Sebastien had eaten so much cake!
Redeem (The Mage Mirrors, The Fallen Queen, and The Forgotten Child) (A Fated Fantasy Quest Adventure Book 10) Page 15
