The Soul of the Sun (The Argos Dynasty)

by Genevieve Crownson

  “Extraordinary is your word for strange Granna, even I know that.” I eyed her suspiciously. She was studying me very closely.

  Ugh.

  Granna pursed her red lips together in disapproval. “I have no idea what you’re referring to. Perhaps you’re not ready to hear what I have to say.”

  “Let me guess,” I snickered. “I come from a long line of ‘extraordinary’ people.” I quoted the air with my fingers. I knew I was being rude but I was afraid and sometimes that was how my fear showed itself.

  “Emma Diamond!” I stopped moving, frozen in shock. Granna never raised her voice to me. “Emma,” she continued, more softly now, “What I have to tell you is of extreme importance to your life and your future. You need to hear it whether you like it or not. You must accept your fate. You must,” she said emphatically.

  Tears pooled in her eyes and I felt shame flush my cheeks. I wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor.

  “I’m sorry Granna,” I mumbled.

  “I think,” she said slowly, “it’s about time you grew up and faced what you know deep down in your heart to be true. Now sit down and pay attention.”

  I sat.

  She began, “When I was young, just after your mother Astrid was born, something remarkable occurred. I was in the middle of writing my great epic love story. It was always epic back then,” she chuckled to herself. “Oh, how awful they were. Anyway, I was sitting outside in the summer sun. In those days I always had a pen and a paper in my hand. I was deliberating on my characters; how they would meet, what would be the perfect setting, all of that.

  “I was so deep in thought, concentrating so hard, I almost willed myself to come up with a good idea. And that is when it happened,” she leaned forward conspiratorially. “I had the strongest premonition I’d ever experienced in my young life.”

  “What was the vision?” I asked, curious despite myself.

  “What many people don’t know is that time is an illusion, a mirage that men have created to help them navigate their way through life. But Emma, most of us get so caught up in the tick of the clock we lose ourselves to it. You, my beautiful grandchild, have been given a gift that will overcome this illusion. You will learn how to live fully, with your entire spirit, I saw you manipulate time; you could speed it up or slow it down. I watched with my own eyes as you took that power and did what no other has done before—alter the past and the future.”

  I interrupted Granna, not willing to believe what she was telling me. It really did seem to be right out of the pages of one her books. This wasn’t about me, it was nonsense. Still I found myself asking her, “How in the world did I alter the past and future in these visions?”

  Granna leaned forward excited now that I had initiated a question. “Well, I saw you running down the beach away from an evil man that was chasing you. I couldn’t see your face or his, no matter how hard I concentrated. The faces were always blurred, but now of course I realize that girl was you.

  “As I watched I couldn’t believe my eyes. Your body pixilated into confetti and shot through this time portal hole to a cliff in Ireland. In a blink of an eye, all the atoms and molecules in your body moved from one place to another. This portal was so small it was unseen by the human eye, yet for some reason I was allowed to see it. It was such a strange premonition, because not only was I receiving the picture of you, but all this information, and I had this knowing about it, as if I was supposed to have this bigger understanding of what was going on. I knew that this portal let you move from one place to another, or to the future or the past. And that it would form, disappear or reappear only for you. There are still parts of the puzzle I don’t understand, for example, why did you go to Ireland in the first place?”

  “Ireland?” I looked at Granna puzzled. “I’ve never even been to Ireland Granna, why would I want to go there? It doesn’t make any sense.” I was starting to feel some relief. I had no connection to Ireland whatsoever.

  “I’m not sure love, but I saw it with my own eyes. The man chasing you reached out and at the last second grabbed your arm. Because he was attached to you, he went through the portal with you. He was so intent on taking your power he didn’t even notice the transition. I also had the feeling you hadn’t realized it had occurred either. It was just so quick. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen.”

  “Granna the notion of all this just boggles my mind. I have no idea how any of this could be true, let alone be about me.”

  Granna rose unsteadily and crossed to the window, her face pensive as she looked out over the lush garden. “I’m afraid that’s only part of it. You see Emma, that long ago day, as I wrestled with my writing, it was revealed to me. It was as if I were watching a movie, yet this movie contained things that no one had ever encountered before, because it belonged to the future. Perhaps that is why I didn’t recognize the identity of the person—until now.” She turned from the window to face me.

  “You’re in grave danger, Emma, this gift you have been given allows you to bypass the time fallacy. There is much evil in our dimension, and this gift will be taken from you if you’re not careful. The darkness covets this power; it would enable it to seize control of the earth.” She gazed at me with a somber expression. “We can’t allow that to happen, Emma.” Granna looked weary but she pressed on. “I think Aunt Abby knew a great deal more about all this than I did. Before she died, she told me she had a dream that our Greek family were powerful spiritual protectors of a healer. This healer would actually be born into our family. She told me she knew who it would be, but she died before she had the opportunity to tell me.”

  Granna’s voice quieted and I felt her sadness. “At first, I thought your mother Astrid was the chosen one. I was so fearful the evil would snatch her away from me. But it wasn’t her, it was you all along. The question becomes Emma; will you choose to embrace your gift? And perhaps more importantly, how can we protect you from the dark forces that will leave no stone unturned in seeking you out? And believe me, as soon as you activate your powers they will become aware of your existence.”

  I had stopped breathing—I took a deep gulp, no need to panic, stay calm. Too late. I was shaking like a leaf, my mind was screaming: Are you seriously kidding me?

  I managed to regain control, reminding myself this was nonsense, Granna was mistaken, it was probably just a nightmare she’d had and convinced herself it was real.

  That had to be it.

  Finally, I was able to form words. My anger was palpable. How dare she put this on me?

  “This is insane. What are you talking about? What you’re saying doesn’t even make sense.” I was yelling now. Had Granna gone mad?

  I tried to calm down. In a quieter voice I said, “Granna, are you sure about all this? You do have a vivid imagination; you make your living telling stories.” I shifted uncomfortably in my chair and continued. “Anyway, how would I break this illusion of time?” I waved my hands as if performing a magic trick. Of course, nothing happened.

  Granna folded her gnarled hands in front of her. “I don’t know how Emma, all I know is that it will happen. But I want you to know you are not alone. Athena, Aunt Bette, Aunt Abby, and I—we are all going to be with you every step of the way. Like Aunt Abby said, we are your protectors. Our Greek family has been doing this since ancient times. My visions have never been wrong. They were a warning; you must prepare yourself for what lies ahead.”

  “Why tell me now?” I protested, “and besides, apart from you Granna, these people are all dead. It’s a bit farfetched to expect they are going to reach out from beyond the grave to help me. Is there a reason I should believe any of this?”

  Granna sighed. “I’ve had dreams since you came into adulthood from all of our ancestors, telling me you that you were the healer and that you must know the truth. They wanted to prepare you for your awakening. This is what Abby wanted me to know. But I kept telling myself you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t time, that we needed proof it was you
. Perhaps it was my own fear that kept this from you. But all I can promise you is we are in this together. It doesn’t matter if you believe it Emma, you have already shifted. The magic has already begun.”

  “You never explained about Aunt Bette. And why did you see the amulet on Fred? What happened?” I said pressing her again.

  “You want to know what Aunt Bette has to do with all this. First of all, she is one of your allies. She is part of the Greek line. Your Aunt Bette’s life might have been saved with the prayer that you have in your hands. Would you really throw that away because it sounds too farfetched? Would you really let the evil that killed your Aunt kill you? The amulet appeared on Fred because darkness was about and I was in danger. It used Fred as a conduit to save me. But we can’t always count on the amulet, Diamond. We have to be more cautious.”

  “I thought Aunt Bette died of a heart attack,” I squeaked.

  “No, Diamond. That is what the family thought to keep them safe. Only Grandpa and I ever knew the truth. I was with her the day she died, I felt the evil.”

  I wrung my hands and stared at Granna in horror. She grabbed them and held them to her heart. “You, Emma Diamond, are very special; a miracle has been placed in your hands.”

  52

  I had another dream.

  The kind that comes to you live, in Technicolor. This time I didn’t ignore the revelation. As soon as I opened my eyes, I wasted no time. I leapt from the bed grabbed a flashlight, put on some slippers and padded down to Granna’s office.

  I stood there, taking in my surroundings. I had played in here so often. I had spent my childhood in this house, exploring every nook and cranny. How had I not known about a secret room? Did Granna know? Still, this was no time for speculation. I pushed my hands against the wall that faced north, and with trembling fingers felt along the edges of the trim. If my dream was correct, there would be a small notch hidden behind the writing desk.

  “Bingo,” I whispered, when at last my fingers hit a small bump.

  I dropped my flashlight and dragged the desk away from the wall. I studied the raised nodule; the wallpaper would have to be cut to find out what was behind there. I hoped that Granna wouldn’t notice and that the desk would cover up most of the damage. I glanced around the room, looking for something to cut with. My eyes fell on a small sharp letter opener gleaming brightly on top of the desk.

  “Perfect,” I murmured.

  I grabbed it and turned back to the wall. I took the opener and neatly sliced through wallpaper being careful not to make too much of a mess.

  “Aha!” I said gleefully when the small button revealed itself.

  I pressed firmly; there was a squeaky groan and the wall started to move, only to come to a grinding halt five seconds later. With my heart racing, I peered closely, there was a door.

  I examined the pint-sized door. It was only about half my height, and to get through it I would have to crouch down even if I cut more wallpaper. It would be hard to hide it from Granna now. I took the letter opener and sliced through the rest of the paper. It was brittle and disintegrated when I tugged at it.

  I stood back and studied my work. Good, that should be enough. I knelt down to look at the door more closely. It was old and covered in yellowed glue. With the paper gone, I was able to push my shoulder against the dark wood. With a final, whining moan it swung open. It was dark and I didn’t see the cobwebs until my head made contact; I jerked back and brushed the errant threads from my hair.

  “Darn spiders,” I muttered. Spiders always gave me the heebie-jeebies ever since I’d made the mistake of watching Arachnophobia. When I was little, Granna told me I was much too young to watch horror movies but of course I hadn’t listened and I’d paid the price.

  I tried not to think about it as I grabbed the flashlight. I returned to the opening, brushed the cobwebs aside and stepped into the inky blackness. I fiddled with the flashlight, until a beam of light illuminated the murky space. I shone the light around; I was in a stairwell leading down to a long narrow passageway that certainly looked like it went somewhere.

  “Here goes nothing,” I muttered, propelling myself forward into the gloom. I gripped the small light closer, how I wished that I’d told Granna where I was going! Perhaps she wouldn’t have gone out to have breakfast with the girls; she would be here with me instead, convincing me everything was okay and that it would all turn out for the best. The best meaning no spiders would crawl up my jeans and eat me for lunch.

  The light beam seemed woefully inadequate as I made my way down the stairs into the passage. I had to bend over, one of the few disadvantages of being tall. It was freezing; I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself to keep warm. But just as I was about to hightail it back to the safety of the office, a flash of bright-colored gold caught my eye. I walked on and found myself in front of an open door. I tiptoed into the room and uncurled my bent frame.

  “Ahh,” I said my voice echoing off the walls. Creepy.

  Relieved I could actually stand up, I surveyed my surroundings. It was a fairly large room with wide oak floorboards. There were old tapestries hanging on the wall, and in the center of the room sat an old pine table with thirteen matching chairs. I looked around; apart from the table and chairs the room appeared to be empty.

  “Strange, why would anyone put a dining set in here, hidden away from the rest of the house?” I looked up and spotted the gold I’d seen. It was part of an elaborate decorative framed painting. I raised my light to the canvas to get a better view.

  My heart froze.

  I was in the painting.

  The image was like something taken from the pages of my own mind. It was me, tumbling over the edge of the cliff. The man that haunted my dreams stood gazing over the precipice, watching as I fell to almost certain death. Every microscopic detail was captured on canvas. It was too real. A shiver of cold crept down my spine and I abruptly turned on my heel and raced back down the passage to the comparative safety of Granna’s office. My mind was in turmoil; was I being led by some sort of unseen force? Was I supposed to find this hidden room?

  Man, I was really creeped out. I was starting to sound like Granna. I giggled a little at the absurdity of it all.

  Yes, my imagination was definitely running away with me. Too much quality time with Granna, no doubt.

  Still, I couldn’t help feeling that someone was watching me, I turned around, but the room was empty. I was just scaring myself now. My thoughts turned back to the painting.

  I knew that man, the auburn hair, the physique. That was my boyfriend or should I say ex-boyfriend. It was the same vision I’d had at the door.

  Jonathan had pushed me to my death. But who could have painted such a thing? I had told no one, yet someone else seemed to know.

  My blood ran cold.

  53

  I sat at the dinner table thinking about that painting, and what it all meant for me. I swirled the lasagna around the plate, not really hungry, I was off in my own world. It was then that Granna dropped the bombshell on me.

  “I’ve been thinking about redecorating my office, maybe change the wallpaper. What do you think, love? After all it’s been ages since anything’s been done with that room.”

  I sat bolt upright in the chair and gulped—“Oh don’t do that! There’s no need, it’s perfect the way it is!”

  Granna eyed me suspiciously, “You suddenly seem very keen on keeping me from redecorating. What are you up to?”

  “Nothing! I mean, you know how I am, Granna. I hate change and everything around me is changing, why not just leave the walls the way they are?”

  I stared her down, hoping she didn’t feel my fear. It was imperative that Granna not find the secret room. If she started to redecorate it would be discovered. I wasn’t ready for her to know about it. This was something I needed to figure out on my own, without Granna holding my hand.

  Granna always told me that truth was a funny thing; it hides inside you, waiting to be recognized. So
metimes, when you’re unsure of yourself, you don’t realize what you are truly capable of doing. And if you’re not prepared to embrace all aspects of yourself, then the truth will elude you. Nothing can make you see it.

  Maybe, just maybe, I was finally ready to see myself for who I was. And that meant facing this alone. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.

  Granna’s voice interrupted my thoughts, “All right, Diamond if it means that much to you we’ll leave it as it is. But when the paper starts peeling off the wall, we’re redecorating and you’re going to help.”

  I gave a great sigh of relief. “Fair enough,” I said grinning at her.

  I was nervous. Granna hadn’t hounded me with questions like she usually did when I acted suspicious. Did she know about the room? It was a bit far-fetched to believe she wouldn’t know now that I thought about it. How could this secret room really elude Granna? The woman had a sixth sense and eyes in the back of her head.

  If she knew, there was a reason she hadn’t told me about it, and if she didn’t know…well, that was a whole other can of worms. There were clearly some truths I just wasn’t ready to face. But try as I might, the image of the painting wouldn’t let go of me, it bubbled just beneath the surface, waiting to blow.

  Granna knew something was wrong, and she also knew that I was blocking her; however, thanks to my hours of practice, I was becoming an expert in not allowing her to share my thoughts.

  My powers were becoming stronger; I could feel an underlying current of energy surging through me. Granna knew, but she waited patiently until I was ready to talk.

  I was also aware that she was dying for me to announce that I had found a way to control time. I snorted to myself. There was no way I was part of that deal. They would have to pin that one on the next generation.

  Margaret