by Jan Harman
“And you wonder why I question your judgment?” Sister Willow replied.
Shade shot to his feet. Where his leg brushed against mine I experienced a brief pins-and-needle sensation. I sucked in a sharp breath. Neither of them said a word out loud, but the bands in their eyes spun like pinwheels in a strong breeze, making me wonder if the argument was still going on. I suspected that Shade, as the grandson of an elder, was being held to a higher standard.
Swift moving air currents circulated the scent of balsam and berries from the trio of votive candles Aunt Claire had just lit on the hearth. She made a point of going first to Sister Willow’s side. Without saying a word, she placed her hands upon the woman’s shoulders until the cane stopped twirling. Next, she circled around the coffee table and did the same to Shade, calming the whitecaps crashing against the spiraling bands. In a clear, firm voice she said, “Elder, would you have done less in Shade’s position? Shade, you fulfilled your obligation to Daniel, so why didn’t you stop there?”
“The embrace of a Soul Spell isn’t easy to dismiss,” he replied, staring at his ring. “That one terrible night, everything changed. Suddenly our world turned upside down. The Warden and his wife were dead. The heir, Danny’s little sister was gravely injured. Weeks past and rumors flew of Olivia still in a coma, possibly never regaining consciousness. When she did, there was talk of paralysis. Beneath the surface, the valley mourned. Some voices, though, masked their ambitions with false faces. Undercurrents soured the collective. Some purist openly rejoiced.”
During his narrative, Aunt Claire had taken a seat next to me on the sofa and Shade had picked up a photograph of my parents standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial. I’d taken the picture last year shortly after we had moved back to the states. Everything was going good back then or at least it had for a while. A few months later, Dad was constantly flying off to meetings. Given what I knew now, I suspected that many involved his commitments to Spring Valley. Shade’s expression darkened. My knees got hot where they touched his leg. He let out a slow breath and placed the photo on the coffee table, facing me.
“The leap to the next level of commitment didn’t require crossing as big of a gap as you might think,” he said, sounding angry. “I’ve watched as the Enforcers were instructed to be vigilant of the rumblings from certain factions while never actively pursuing charges. Last night, Olivia’s memories revealed insight into the depth of her peril. I feared for the safety of our heir, so I considered other options. I came up with only one that would ensure me access in the event the council attempted to strip me of my unsanctioned protector’s duties or banned me altogether. Primed by Daniel’s Soul Spell and connected to Olivia through my position as the Warden’s Sworn Protector, I performed the Binding Oath of the Soul. The ordeal,” his voice turned rough and his breath caught briefly in his throat, “was frighteningly revealing.”
“As the Pepperdine Clan’s senior elder, I’m outraged. It wasn’t your place to risk the life of our only male diamond level viber. My mind and gifts are in service to the clan. Alone and without mental cushioning you were fortunate that you didn’t lose your mind to the emotional upheaval. As your grandmother, I dislike being frightened after the fact,” Sister Willow scolded. A gentle puff of air swept the yellow blond streak of hair back from his face.
“That’s supposed to make it alright, misplaced guilt and loyalty to my brother? Or was it just your wounded pride?” I said, my voicing rising sharply. “Foolish me, here I thought you were my friend. Instead, I’ve got what? An amped up employee with an all access pass? Just how binding are we talking? Will my thoughts be yours to examine?” I could feel my face burning. “Soul Oath doesn’t mean that we . . . that it’s like we’re married? Aunt Claire!”
Shade tried to take my hand. I thrust it behind my back. Confusion widened his eyes and softened the tension around his parted lips, making him look younger and vulnerable. He moved to the end of the sofa and stood sideways to me with his gaze on the front door. He cleared his throat and said in a flat voice, “Although the depth of intimacy between us enhances my awareness and thus my ability to protect and serve, I won’t demand that level of sacrifice from you. This is a professional relationship between a guard and his protectee.”
“So it’s like having a GPS strapped to my body twenty-four-seven? What if I’m with someone?”
“Olivia, stop this. We can establish parameters,” Aunt Claire said, employing her mediating tone.
I rounded on her. “This would never have happened if you’d explained things to me. If I’d come here prepared instead of thinking I was unstable, Shade wouldn’t have made this awful choice.” I looked for Shade and discovered that he’d made a tactical retreat to the hearth.
“See what I mean about uncontrolled emotional displays,” Sister Willow said to Shade. “I cringe to think of how this will affect you over the years. Pray you don’t bring shame down upon our clan.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re concerned about? What about your grandson’s life?” I said, my voice losing its respectful tone, despite Aunt Claire’s cautioning hand on my arm. Sister Willow’s reply was lost beneath Shade’s angry current of words.
“Disagree with my choice that’s fine, but don’t criticize Olivia. Have we grown so heartless that our elders feel no remorse for condemning a shocked, grieving young woman for her less than stoic face? Is it little wonder that Ethan made provisions to safeguard his daughter from the valley? While we’ve enjoyed a safe, comfortable life, we’ve forgotten the lessons of our past. Hardships plagued our people for years. New alliances brought confusion. Through it all, we had the heart of our people to sustain us. Bereft of family and home, Olivia is lost. Thrust into a strange new world, she is scared and bewildered. Despite her anger towards me and without regards to the responsibilities inherent in her position, she would argue vehemently for my better interest as my friend, as the Pepperdine’s have always done.”
Sister Willow held up a weathered hand and Shade fell silent. “When the young must remind their elders of their first lessons, it’s time to accept their wisdom. Olivia, I judged and made assumptions without truly knowing what it is like to have journeyed your path. If you would be so kind as to share, so I may grow?”
I sat up straighter, my hands pressed to my chest. “You want to join with me? I’m honored, but I’m a little tired.”
“You’re too polite, young lady. Honored is far from what you’re feeling. Horrified, embarrassed amongst other emotions would be far more accurate. I won’t pry further than you can comfortably handle. Allow me to see us through the eyes of one who has suddenly had to rewrite her past while struggling with an upended present.”
“It appears you’ve got the general sense already,” I replied, fairly certain that I wasn’t ready for this encounter. It was different with Shade. I was comfortable with him, where she was a stranger and rather intimidating. I preferred to keep my thoughts to myself, thank you very much. All well and good except when destiny pegged you to be the next warden for people who redefined the meaning of privacy.
She smiled encouragingly. “Scoot over so I may sit next to you on the sofa. When you’re ready, place your hands on mine.”
My mouth went dry. Aunt Claire nodded encouragingly while Shade appeared tense. I wondered if he was still upset that his grandmother didn’t support his life choice. My second option for his watchfulness had more to do with his claim that I’d somehow retrieved one of his memories. At the moment, the latter of the two choices caused me the greatest unease.
Given the heated discussion flying back and forth in my living room a few minutes earlier, I expected to feel residuals still in the emotions Sister Willow shared. Tranquility seeped deeply into my being, easing months of burdensome tensions. Who needed meditation or medications when you had access to this? For the third time in the same day, I went limp.
“Thank you,” I said airily.
“Claire, you should’ve brought her to us. A bod
y cannot heal properly in this desynchronized state,” Sister Willow scolded.
“My niece had too much to deal with already.”
“Had Ethan not been so headstrong, the clan could’ve eased her stresses. No, don’t tense, Olivia. May I try more?”
My heart jumped to my throat. Calm. Sympathy. Welcome. Joy. Sister Willow’s emotions, I realized, recognizing the progression to a deeper connection. Thoughts, though, were a different matter. The idea of being that exposed bordered on horrifying.
“I heard Mark Cassidy blindsided you yesterday,” Sister Willow said in an easy-to-listen-to conversational tone. “That must have been quite the shock.”
No kidding. It was going to take time and some serious therapy to get over the horrible feeling of immobility, Mr. Cassidy’s avid gaze boring into mine, and the helplessness of being so near the brink of madness. Compassion. Outrage. I recoiled. Reassurance deftly calmed.
“That was sneaky,” I said as it hit me that she’d just experienced my memories. “Is it always like that, easy access and no one the wiser?”
“You mean, can we at will access your mind? A handful of us can, but we don’t. And no, it isn’t easy especially if the Whisperer is consciously trying to keep secrets. The Pact forbids connections without an invitation first. Only the warden has the authority to override the Pact for the good of the people.”
Sister Willow’s rough hands squeezed mine. “I realize your introduction to our community hasn’t unfolded in the manner that your aunt intended. On behalf of our clan, I offer the hope of a better tomorrow. There is one more matter that I’m loath to pursue. If it weren’t so important, I wouldn’t put you through another remembrance. My grandson is convinced that a Whisperer was involved in the death of your parents. He believes the individual attempted an unsanctioned link with a minor.”
“I think someone touched my face.” I shuddered even under the influence of her calming presence and melodic tones. “A haunting voice hides in those memories. It frightens me. I don’t know if I can do this,” I admitted. A gentle puff of air skimmed my cheeks.
“We are with you. Nothing will harm you,” Shade reassured in that warm, melting voice that saturated my being.
Fear? Hormones? Soul Oath? Don’t go there.
“I must warn you, Olivia, that in order to get to the truth, it may be necessary for you to be immersed so deeply into your memories, that it will be as real to you as that night. Once I identify your assailant, I will confront him directly for my answers,” Sister Willow said in a cold, hard voice that flashed across the living room, stretching curtains away from their rods and batting the ends of the roller blinds against the windows as though they sought escape.
I shrank against my aunt’s side. Shade glided closer, took one look at my expression, and stepped around the coffee table to resume his seat.
“Sorry, I needed to release some emotional charge before deepening the joining. Truly. she is her father’s daughter. Don’t look worried, dear; I’ve survived decades of joinings with vibrant personalities. The stories I could tell of your father’s training days,” Sister Willow said, smiling warmly at me.
“Is this absolutely necessary?” Aunt Claire asked. “Every time Olivia relives that night, it undoes so much of her progress.”
“Her first-hand accounting is crucial for our investigation. Now that she is aware of our abilities, we can help with the trauma. The choice though is hers.”
“Maybe this will stop my nightmares,” I said to my aunt. Realistically, I’d settle for more pieces of that night to fill in the gaps.
“Draw me into the joining, so I can be there for her,” Aunt Claire said.
Nails clicked against the marble top of the cane.
“I can handle it,” Aunt Claire insisted.
Fingers slid down the cane, stopping when they settled into the worn indentations in the wood. Sister Willow circled her thumb over the dark spot that had been stained by the oils from her skin. “Claire, don’t ask such a thing of me. If it wasn’t imperative that we discover the truth of that night, I wouldn’t allow Olivia to go through that horror.”
“As the acting warden, I can’t hide from the truth.”
“Ladies, if I may offer a compromise? Shade said. “Allow me to act as a filter. I can blur the gruesome details.”
“Grandson, you’ve never applied yourself to this field. I must caution you that the emotions released in a remembrance joining can disrupt the meditative state of the best of us. Given the distasteful nature of what we will embrace, I expect you to use common sense and withdraw before your emotions funnel into Olivia. Understand this isn’t a healing journey for any of us. Our task dictates the direction of my focus. We seek details necessary for the identification of those responsible for murder. Endeavors of this nature require techniques that took me years to master. Don’t attempt to force open a memory no matter what you believe it will reveal. Finally, deeply personal moments such as those surrounding Ethan’s passing belong to Olivia not the valley. Unless necessary to our task, I ask you to give her privacy. Should at any moment it become too much for Claire, I expect you to do your job no matter how much you desire the truth.”
“Claire will be comforted,” Shade replied, but his worried eyes were upon my face.
Sister Willow touched my hand. “Start by setting the scene.”
The only way I could get the painful words out was by closing my eyes. “The car had flipped several times. My left leg was being crushed. I had a concussion. It’s quite the jumbled mess inside my head.”
“You saw someone. He reached inside the car,” Sister Willow prompted when I hesitated.
While her mental touch folded a blanket of reassurance across my wounded mind, the powerful pull of her words latched hold to draw me into the memory. The details were sharper than usual. That should make me happy. After all, I’d been searching for answers for months. Just look and get it over with. No matter what Sister Willow had said, the memory couldn’t be worse than the actual event. Dad was stirring, his slurred voice calling for mom. Someone had knocked out the back window. Where was he now?
***
“Ignore the woman, she’s choking. She’s as good as dead,” a male voice said dispassionately.
“Mom!” A sob ripped out between my clenched lips. “Help her. Please!”
Physical voices intruded, overlaying memory with the present. Details smeared and words tangled together.
“This goes beyond cruel,” Aunt Claire cried.
“I can unveil the truth she fears to view,” Sister Willow said firmly, yet kindly.
“Not at this price,” Shade argued.
“Bring her out,” Aunt Claire ordered.
Safety. Calm. I fought back, not wanting what Sister Willow was offering. I was close to an answer. “I can do this,” I said, straining to hold the memory in place. “I need to.”
“Together then,” Sister Willow replied. “The hand is coming closer. Show me the scene. Let me hear his voice.”
The authority inherent in her voice shoved everything not related to her command to the fringe of my awareness. Curtains parted, spilling light and sounds into a dark place that made me shudder and cry out in terror.
The harsh glare of the flashlight triggers mini explosions of pain that rocket around inside my skull. I scrunch my eyes and swallow back the bile in my throat. I can make no sense of what is happening to me. Concussion? Dying? Something—I can’t see because of the light stabbing my eyes—smashes against the windshield, cracking and shattering the glass beneath repetitive blows that expose more of my face to the stiff, damp breeze. A word or two spoken in Dad’s urgent voice penetrates my confusion. Dread freezes my chest. We have to escape. I thrash back and forth, jabbing my side into metal, sobbing as I try to pull my hands free.
“Get away from me. Stop! It burns. I can’t . . . Dad!” I scream.
“Let her go. She’s just a kid. She doesn’t know anything,” Dad pleads. “Don’t. Come at
me direct. No!”
For Dad I try to be strong. One by one childhood memories are ripped open by words of pain that spill, dissect, and toss aside bits of my life. Frustration that quickly turns to anger prowls the recesses of my brain. Screams reverberate off metal. No matter where in my life I go to hide, the sinister voice pounces, leaving me in a maddened tangle that I must sort out or be caught.
Just a fraction of a second ahead of the plundering voice, I tumble out of a memory of Danny teaching me how to hold a baseball bat and into another random memory. Oh, God, not this one. Before I can escape, the ruthless voice clamps hold and sucks me in deeper. Danny’s dead. Dead. The shattering memory keeps churning on the repeat cycle, killing me in pieces.
“Stop! She doesn’t know anything. I’ll tell you what you want. Just let her go,” dad yells.
The burning hand grips his face. I shriek, “No, don’t touch him.” I feel his body clench and shudder, hammering my side into metal. Pain gouges and slices. Frantic, I twist and tug to pull my arms free, scraping open cuts until sweat bathes my body and spots dance before my eyes. Something inside the car shifts, allowing me to slide my right hand free. But my hand doesn’t want to move quite right. I stare at it, not comprehending. Pain curls about me, blanketing Dad’s horrific moans.
***
I cringed and whimpered. No more. Forget the memories locked away in my mind. I don’t want to do this, I pleaded silently into Sister Willow’s frosted eyes. The stream of images froze. The still picture—the one of the arm stretched through the windshield with a hand locked onto my dad’s face—turned fuzzy and dissolved into indistinguishable fragments. Aunt Claire’s muffled cries pulled me into the present. Fury promised retribution.
Calm. Safe. Sister Willow’s gentleness smothered my burning mind. Not immune to the brutality, her cane thumped against the sofa. Some of her horror and outrage bled through the joining, reigniting my desperate desire for the truth. The same terror that drove me to seek escape now drove me to struggle, but it was like swimming against a rip tide to pull back from Sister Willow’s firm grip. Perhaps sensing my determination and wanting answers herself, she allowed the memories to fold over me once again.
