“I know he’s fine now. You don’t have to be concerned about me or Mr. B. And I’m not worried, at least, not anymore. It all worked out. I mean…Mr. Beasley was hit by this red Corvette, and almost died, but I healed him with my own hands!” I held them up to prove it. I knew I was rambling, but there was no simple way to say it.
Granna pulled up a kitchen chair and sat down. She looked tired. I watched her body shudder and she turned pale.
“Did you say a red Corvette, Love?”
I looked at her confused. “Yes, why is that important? Do you know someone that drives a red Corvette?”
“No, no nothing like that. Oh never mind, just letting my memories get the better of me. There is something else that is a bit more pressing.”
“What is it, Granna? You can tell me what’s bothering you. Aren’t you excited that I can heal? Granna can you imagine what I could do as a doctor if I could heal people like I did Mr. Beasley? All those kids at the hospital I could make better, all the sacrifices, all the friends I’ve lost it would all be worth it. Do you have anything that hurts right now? I bet I could fix it.”
Granna gave me a resigned look. “Emma,” she said slowly, “I wasn’t talking aloud in the garden. Could you hear my thoughts as well?”
“I don’t know, I must have. I thought you were talking aloud to yourself.”
“That’s incredible. Your telepathy is not limited like mine. You required no touch, no concentration. It’s wonderful, child.” She leaned back in her chair. “What do you say, Diamond? Shall we give your powers a test run?” Her eyes crinkled at the corners and she gave me a broad grin. For the first time I saw how happy she was for me. It was good to see the color come back to her face. But what she was saying made my stomach churn.
I sat down at the table. “Powers? I wouldn’t call them powers…” I said nervously. “How would you test them?”
It was one thing to save Beasley, but messing around to see what I could do with my own grandmother was extremely intimidating.
“We’ll start by finding out if you can do more, Love. Let’s see if you can not only read my thoughts, but project something to me. Take your time, don’t rush. Just think of something you want to tell me, but don’t say it aloud.”
I closed my eyes and concentrated. “I saved Mr. Beasley today Granna, I healed him with my hands. And I lied. I am just like you, I worry.”
There was a long silence.
I opened my eyes and held my breath, not knowing what to expect. Granna was jubilant. “It was as clear as a bell! Just as though you were talking to me. You told me you saved Mr. Beasley today, and you’re worried you’re just like me, isn’t that right?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
Granna reached across the table and gripped my hands. “Oh Emma! We were communicating mind to mind, except there was a bit of an echo; that part was very interesting indeed,” she mused.
I was uneasy. With new powers came new ways to disappoint Granna. What if I was a one-hit wonder? Some real guilt crept in as I realized how many years I had never believed Granna truly had any gifts.
Granna looked at me sharply. “You’re going to have to learn to block your thoughts too, Emma. Don’t you know you could never disappoint me? Now, go up to the attic. Let’s see how far this mind-reading of yours can go. Skit-Skat.” She waved me away with her hands.
“What about dinner? Don’t you want any help?” I asked.
“Dinner?” She looked over at the stove as if just remembering. “Oh, it’s practically all done. I just need to whip up some sauce and it’s ready. I can do that while listening,” she giggled. “Doesn’t that sound awful? I’m such a snoop. Oh, never mind me, you run along. I’ll call you with my mind when supper’s on the table.” She gave me an impish grin.
“Okay,” I sighed. I turned reluctantly and headed up the stairs. I paused on the landing, gazing at Mom’s portrait hanging on the wall. I wondered what she would think of all this. Would she disapprove of me or embrace this new side of her daughter?
Only time would tell.
37
Margaret, September 1939
Daddy died the same day Hitler invaded Poland. We all knew war was coming. So the day of the funeral, we moved back to the big beach house where I had been born. I didn’t want Mama rattling around all alone in that big house. And besides Ian and I agreed that it was a lot nicer than being boxed up in his tiny apartment, especially with the baby coming sometime in May.
We all knew Daddy wouldn’t live to a ripe old age, but this seemed much too soon. He’d died at work out on the boats; he’d fallen overboard in a storm and drowned. A few men had tried to save him but to no avail.
We were all sad, but also a little relieved that Daddy was gone from our lives. We’d loved him, it was true, but he was a hard man. And at times a cruel one.
Still, he was my Daddy, like it or not, and I grieved for him.
We buried him alongside our precious Abigail. There was a beautiful view of the ocean and you could smell the salt from the sea.
I thought they both would have liked it there. It was as close to home as we could get for them. And I hoped that Daddy was finally at peace with himself in heaven, and that he knew I’d forgiven him for all the grief he had put us all through.
I hoped it was enough for him.
Time passed quickly and as the months went by I got bigger and bigger. It was a happy time with Ian and Mama. They were both excited about our impending baby joy. Even Aunt Bette was busy sewing up little baby clothes.
I still felt as if someone was watching me.
It was a dark cloud that loomed over me. And I knew that more trouble lay ahead, but just for a little while all was well with the world.
38
Margaret, May 1940
My baby came into the world on the tenth of May, two minutes before midnight. Despite my negative thoughts about this child, I was awed by her beauty.
No matter how much I wanted to hate her, she was still mine, and she was perfect. One thing I had learned from Abby’s death was that life was precious and should never be taken for granted.
“Oh Margaret, isn’t she the most beautiful baby you’ve ever seen?” Mama cooed as she rocked her gently in her arms. Despite her enthusiasm, I knew Mama was worried about the circumstance of the baby’s conception, and feared I wouldn’t love her.
“Yes, she’s beautiful. I do believe she looks an awful lot like you Mama,” I replied.
“Really? You think so?” she looked at the baby dubiously, then smiled. “I think she’s going to grow up to be even prettier than her Grandma.” She leaned over the bed and placed the tiny bundle in my arms. “What are you going to name her, Margaret?”
I looked down at her rosebud-colored cheeks and the enormous blue eyes staring intently back at me. I knew immediately what I would call her.
“Her name is Astrid Marianna. What do you think, Ian?” I asked looking up at him.
“It’s perfect. Astrid Marianna it is.” He reached out a finger to Astrid, and she gripped it tightly.
“Somebody loves her Daddy already,” I said, beaming.
“Why Astrid?” Mama asked.
“Because it means divine strength. Let’s face it, she will need it coming from this family,” I said matter-of-factly.
Ian laughed and sat down next to me on the bed. He put his arms around us, being careful not to disturb Astrid. “You are both very special to me, Margaret,” he said softly.
I took hold of one of Astrid’s tiny hands and smiled. “Hi Astrid, I’m your new Mama, and this is your new Daddy. We’ll make sure nothing bad ever happens to you.”
Astrid gazed at me with such trusting eyes, I wondered if I would be able to keep that promise.
39
The Watcher
I stood as a shadow on the railroad docks. It was midnight and I hovered above the tracks looking down. I had found the first hobo to be so convenient I decided I would use a few more. Take thei
r energy, increase my power. I could go on a body rampage.
I needed to get stronger.
I watched the human creatures as my thoughts connected and churned. How I loved those vagrants. Always desperate. No roots. If their bodies were found it wasn’t my problem and no one seemed to care. They had no home base, they were not missed by anyone and I could easily leave the bodies by the railroad bull for a time. It was a simple matter to be killed by these men if you so desired. They strode around the yard with a fury and determination even I had to admire.
I waited and watched as twenty hobos climbed back into the boxcar before it set off again down the tracks. This was my fifth moon of tracking these men. With every new body, I gained more power. I felt strong enough now to face my biggest challenge.
It was a simple system really. You just had to make sure you got caught. When the engineer gave the highball, we raced to the train. I made certain I was the last one on board; I deliberately struggled to make it. The last body I was in I got about 100 feet from the train when the railroad bull shot me clean through the back. Six others died with me. Six deaths for the six bullets he had in his gun.
I scooted into the boxcar through the open crack. I let my shadow fall over a dark skinned man. He would be dead within 24 hrs. Then I would be ready to claim what was mine.
I made sure all my hobo bodies returned to me, back to the boúrda where all the remaining energy could be stored in one place.
We were forever linked.
I thought this hobo would suit me just fine. The power was all but pulsing through my veins. The pull of the amulet had been unyielding the first time. I had fallen under its spell so quickly and placed myself in danger. I’d followed that darned cat straight to Bette’s. That fat old woman really was a thorn in my side. I remembered it had disappeared off the cat just in time and I’d managed to regain control of myself.
But now it would all be different. This time I would be ready.
The amulet would have no hold over me. I would make sure of it. Now that I knew where it was hidden, I could destroy it.
One thing was for certain. The old biddy Bette required more investigation. She was hiding too many secrets. Someone had known how to control that amulet and had used it against me. Fortunately, Margaret Potter was as witless as she was pretty and seemed to know nothing of the amulets power. I’d been watching Margaret. I’d tracked her every step. If she had been about to betray me I would have known.
Not to worry. I would pay her Aunty Bette a visit and find out what was going on. I would do what needed to be done.
Phase one was almost complete.
40
Bette, June 1940
I stood at the kitchen sink, elbow deep in suds. I picked up the last dinner plate and rinsed it off before placing it on the rack. That left only the pots. I reached out and grabbed one of the greasy things, glaring at it in disgust. I really hated doing dishes. As I scoured, I thought back on my life. My days had fallen into a comfortable routine since I’d been on my own. It had been a long time since Christina had left home. I’d pretty much raised her after Mama died. Daddy worked long hours on the boats to provide for us. Now Christina was busy with her own life. Lord knows she’d been through hell, dealing with her daughter Abby’s death. Then Margaret leaving the nest so suddenly to get married. Not to mention Christina’s hellacious deadbeat husband, Harold. He wouldn’t even have had a job if hadn’t been for Daddy getting him a position on the boats. May God rest his unfortunate soul. I viciously scrubbed at the resistant brown crust on the bottom of the pot.
I was glad Margaret had finally settled down, she needed a husband. That girl was just too scatterbrained for her own good. I’d missed the opportunity myself. In my younger days I was too busy to have gentleman come calling, what with caring for Christina and all…
A large crash behind me startled me from my musings.
I turned around to find that Fred had knocked an empty glass milk bottle off the counter. There it was, shattered into a million pieces. “Fred! What do you think you’re doing?”
My dark grey feline jumped nimbly over to the sink. His striped tail swished back and forth across my arm.
“Darned cat,” I muttered.
I lifted him up with my wet soapy hands and placed him firmly on the floor. He let out a howl of protest. “Well I’m sorry you got wet, but you made a mess.”
He meowed again, louder this time.
“You didn’t get that wet!” I wiped my hands on my apron and took the broom and dustpan from the pantry to clean up the mess.
He rubbed against my legs and then leapt back onto the sink. A glint of blue caught the corner of my eye in the fading sunlight. The amulet. The blue and white glass created a rainbow on the floor. But how could that be? It was safely hidden away upstairs. Was I seeing things? What could it mean? Fred hadn’t been wearing it just two seconds ago. Had it appeared out of thin air? A chill ran down my spine. What was going on? My senses were humming. I always trusted my instincts. It was the old Greek in me I suppose. I let them lead me now. I turned and raced upstairs to the small bedroom, to see if my amulet was still there, Fred hot on my heels. Something was happening with the amulet. I could hear a humming coming from upstairs before I even reached the landing. Was the amulet taking on its own power and moving around? There had to be a rational explanation.
That’s when I felt it.
“No!” I screamed, and the hair on my arms stood on end. It couldn’t be. There was evil here.
My heart pounded.
Out of breath, my chest heaving, I flung open the door. I stared in stunned belief.
There before me stood a large black man, dressed in filthy rags. His bare feet planted on my clean rug. His dark eyes set deeply in his skull, stared coldly at me. His hands large as plates, clenched in fists that could have taken me out with one blow. He looked like one of those hobos from down on the docks. But my senses told me otherwise—he was something else all together.
“Who are you?” my voice quavered. “Get out of my house!”
The muscle in his jaw twitched. Then before I could even think about getting the amulet from my jewelry box he’d raised his hands upwards toward the ceiling, palms facing towards me. There was a loud rumble as dark smoke filled the air and the room was plunged into darkness. A howling wind tore at the window throwing it wide open. Its gale force roared across the room. I felt myself being lifted off the ground and flung like an insect against the back wall. I cried out in pain, watching in terror as the sheer force of the wind shattered the window and tore pictures from the walls. The dresser overturned, crashing to the floor, hurling the jewelry box and scattering its contents across the room.
The man laughed melodiously as the choking smoke and wind whirled around him as if he owned it. And I’d swear on my mother’s grave that I saw his rags transform into a dark shining hooded robe.
A shudder went through me as the evil was sucked into my lungs. It coursed through my veins and made me feel strangely disembodied.
I had to get hold of the amulet. I tried to move but found myself pinned to the wall as if someone had nailed me there. Then I saw it. It was several yards from me, surrounded by the scattered contents of the jewelry box. There was nothing I could do.
A quick thought passed through my mind. Perhaps Fred could reach it. It was a long shot, but I was desperate. I scanned the room and spotted him; he was about three feet from me, surrounded by a blue cloud of light. It emanated from him, creating a cocoon of protection. His fur spiked out in all directions, his tail rigid, he appeared to be glued to the spot. My heart sank with the realization: Fred couldn’t save me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something move. I turned and to my horror saw the man was somehow manipulating the amulet. It hung in midair, held up by an invisible force. I racked my brain trying to think of an explanation. Could the amulet be in two places at once? Had it somehow broken into two pieces, and if so had it been placed on Fred t
o warn me? Was it activated when it sensed the evil? My attention was brought back to the amulet. I gulped hard and watched as it began to swing back and forth like a pendulum, emitting an eerie, high-pitched hum. Within moments, it exploded into flames. I turned to face Fred, but the blue light surrounding him had winked out. I burst into tears. It was all over. It was useless to try and fight.
The amulet was destroyed.
I screamed, begging for its restoration.
I didn’t see the wooden beam crash down from the ceiling. All I felt was a heavy blow. The world went black.
When I came to, something sandpapery and wet was rubbing against my cheek. I opened my eyes and found Fred licking my face. He stopped when he saw I was awake and gave a plaintive meow.
“It’s all right Freddy boy,” I said, reaching up to stroke him. I winced as pain shot through my arm. The memories of the evening came flooding back to me. I sat up in a panic looking wildly around the room for the hobo. My heart calmed when I realized I was alone with Fred. I stared hard at the cat. There was no amulet around his neck. Had I imagined it? Was my mind playing tricks on me? Maybe I had wanted to believe I wasn’t responsible for the destruction of the amulet so I was seeing things. Presuming the amulet had a life of its own was plain ridiculous. After all this time—oh Lord, was I having visions the way Christina had? I remembered I had snickered at my baby sister, thought she was just being fanciful telling tall tales to get attention. All that talk about some long lost Greek. Was it possible she had been telling the truth? Maybe our skepticism was why Christina had lived her entire life in denial, fragile and lost in this cockamamie world. And perhaps I shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss my own phantasm. I looked over at the shattered window. Early morning sunlight filtered its way through the torn curtains. I must have been unconscious all night. With a painful grimace, I propped myself against the wall. I had to see if there was anything left of the amulet. I dragged myself across the floor, but there was nothing there, just a charred mark on the wooden floorboards. The room was a shambles: boards pulled from the wall, the bed broken, and the amulet, the one I was to protect with my life, destroyed.
The Soul of the Sun (The Argos Dynasty) Page 12
