“Oh! I’ve always wanted to see those waterfalls, Chris. Do we have time to stop?”
“Yep. That’s where I’m taking you.”
“What? Really? This is so exciting! How did you know I like waterfalls?”
Chris glances over at me and smiles. He changes lanes and takes the exit as my nose is glued to the window. I try to locate the falls. The trees part, allowing a partial view of the upper portion of the falls. Chris parks the car in the packed lot and we get out. He takes my hand, interlocking our fingers in a firm grip as we walk on the sidewalk toward a pedestrian tunnel. A freight train rumbles by on the tracks above as we walk with many other tourists through the tunnel to the lodge at the base of the falls.
The roar of the falls and the mist dancing in the air, coupled with the smell of fresh-roasted candied almonds, melds together in a thrilling sensory experience. We climb the stairs to the main viewing area and wait for a few people to move so we can get a front-row spot.
“Calli, I wanted to take you to Cave Falls for our first date, but we’ve been too busy to be able to get away for a few days. When Crimson told me we would be going to Portland over the Thanksgiving holiday, I decided I’d take you to this waterfall.”
“It’s breathtaking, Chris. I’m really happy you brought me here.”
“Come on, let’s hike up to the bridge.” He points to the narrow walkway that crosses above the crest of the lower falls and pulls me up the stairs and onto the paved trail.
I’m so excited to be by his side, hand-in-hand, with the sound of the waterfalls in the background. The only other time he and I have been together in a situation like this was at Cave Falls when I read his mind for the first time and discovered he viewed me as his soulmate. I remember how stunned I was to learn he already knew me. So much has happened since then.
We weave in and out among the slower tourists, most likely Thanksgiving weekend visitors, and complete the quarter-mile hike to the bridge. The view is incredible. We can see all the way across the mile-wide Columbia River to Washington. I lean over the edge slightly to see the water falling away beneath me, then turn and look all the way up to the top of the upper falls where I see people standing near the crest.
“There’s people up there,” I say, pointing up.
“This trail goes all the way to the top.”
“Can we go?”
Chris looks up, then back to me. “I don’t think we have enough time before our reservations . . . dinner reservations at the lodge restaurant.”
My heart melts even more. “You made reservations for us?”
“Yeah, a month ago. Did you see the line of people outside the entrance?”
“I did, but I didn’t know why they were there. How’s the food?”
“The salmon is raved about, but I wish they served rabbit holes.”
“What? Oh, right.” I remember telling him at Cave Falls there were rabbit holes nearby. He’d said he didn’t think he’d get filled up on rabbit holes. Chris’s sentimental side is so darn cute! I didn’t know he was like this. I didn’t know I’d be so drawn to the fact that he remembers such little details.
A few larger drops of water hit my mist-moistened face. Rain.
“Come on, let’s go eat.” Chris lets go of my hand and places his palm on the small of my back, directing me across the narrow bridge, weaving in and out of gawking tourists. I notice one of the females has an Unaltered aura.
I turn to Chris. “Did you see her?”
“Yes. That’s strange.”
We get across the bridge and stop. We both watch the girl with the aura. I look into her mind but don’t find anything that causes alarm. She’s simply a person who wasn’t affected by cosmic energy during development in the womb. Chris shares the same deduction and we continue down to the lodge for dinner.
* * *
We arrive back at the hotel after dark. Chris follows me into my room and walks through the adjoining door to his to take his jacket off. I take my jacket off and change into my night shirt with a cartoon character brightly colored across the front. Even though the night shirt covers more of my legs than the green dress did, I feel more exposed.
Chris saunters into my room, having changed into more comfortable clothing as well: loose-fitting jogging pants and a snug tank top that exposes his defined, muscular arms. He walks directly to me, wraps his arms around my waist, and buries his face against my neck below my ear.
“Thank you for a wonderful dinner, Chris,” I say softly, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. In a swift movement, he tightens his hold on my waist and lifts me off the ground.
A squeal escapes my lungs from the surprise. “Okay, put me down. I’ve already determined I don’t like flying.”
He sets me down again, maintaining his firm hold on my body, and glances over to the bed. “Do you want to lie down?” His invitation lingers in the air.
“Um, okay, I guess.”
“Don’t panic. I just want to hold you close, Calli.”
“I wasn’t panicking,” I lie.
Chris walks me backward till the backs of my knees hit the bed. I sit down, then crawl up so my head rests on the pillows. He lies down on his side, beside me, and props his head up on his palm, his elbow supporting his weight. His other hand finds mine and clasps onto it.
He says, “When Maetha told me I’d be accompanying you to Portland over the holiday weekend, the first image that popped into my head was this right here.” He looks down the length of my body and back up to my eyes.
“You imagined me in a child’s cartoon nightshirt?” I make light of the tense position between us.
“You could be wearing your grandma’s nightshirt and I wouldn’t care. I just want to be close to you. We’ve been so close, yet so far away for too long. It’s deceptive being able to bi-locate because you feel like you’re right there, but you’re not.”
“I know what you mean. I always feel empty after bi-locating to you.”
“Touch is a powerful sensation.” He moves his hand away from mine and drags the back of his finger along my cheek and over my lips. “Everyone needs human contact. It’s science.” He brings his lips to my cheek.
“Are you a scientist now?” I say rather breathless as he kisses closer to my mouth. A million fireworks explode and goose bumps prickle all over body.
“Mmm, no,” he whispers. “I’m a delivery man.”
“I thought you said you only wanted to hold me,” I remind him. I don’t want him to stop kissing me, but I also don’t want to miss out on the opportunity to be held in his arms.
“Yes, I did say that.” He sits up and grabs the remote control for the television, then lays back down and pulls me closer to his body. He hands me the remote. “How about you find a movie or something.”
“Oh, dinner and a movie.” I accept the remote and snuggle closer while I click through the channels. I find a slasher movie. Not that I like scary shows, but I figure the frightening scenes will give me an excuse to retreat further into his arms. I twist my head around and kiss him quickly on the lips, surprising him. “Thank you, Chris. Our first date will be something I’ll always remember.”
“Me too. And, you’re welcome.”
“You’ve made it very special for me.” I pause and put my hand on his chest. “Ever since I saw the vision of you becoming an Unaltered, I’ve been a bundle of nerves. In my mind, it meant you could become a Bearer like me . . . like Jonas did. The thought of outliving you hasn’t set well with me. But now I know we’ll have forever if we choose.”
“I choose to.”
“I do, also. For tonight though, can we just cuddle? I’m not . . . um, ready.”
“Absolutely. I’m not ready either. I just want to be close to you, like I said earlier.”
“Well, being that I can’t read your mind, I didn’t know if you meant something else when you said, ‘hold me.’ I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”
“Yes, we want the same thing.
But, I might kiss you some more before the night is over, be warned.”
I giggle and relax in his arms—such a wonderful place to be.
* * *
I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but apparently, I did. I’m awakened by Chris as he’s trying to get up without disturbing me. Too late. The movie is over and he turns off the television. I don’t remember a thing about the movie.
He speaks in little more than a whisper. “I’m going to my room.”
“You don’t have to,” I say, eyes halfway open.
“Yes, I do. Goodnight, Calli.” He comes over and kisses my forehead. “I love you.” Then he stands and walks to the dividing door.
“I love you, Chris.” I’m left feeling a little confused. Did I do something wrong?
* * *
I return to school following my romantic weekend with Chris in Portland. He and I accomplished a lot concerning the logistics of what will be needed during an evacuation. By driving on the actual roads and bridges, it was easy to see where the potential problems will crop up.
Marketa is back on duty. She’s mastering her computer quite well. Jonas continues to send assignments to flood the Internet, which we dutifully post. I keep researching how city governments work.
I think it will be better to have the city officials handle the evacuation, rather than the clansmen or the Bearers. Keeping the details of what Bearers can do, and how many clansmen there actually are, will be beneficial in the long run. Down the road, once the Elementals die off, perhaps the rest can go down as legend or myth, allowing Bearers the cover they need to do their jobs.
A few weekends have passed. Chris has visited me twice and I’ve gone to him once. We talk in our minds quite often when Marketa isn’t around. I’m really happy with my relationship with Chris. I feel comfortable around him, yet am still so easily excited.
My classes are winding up for the holiday break and I couldn’t be happier. Holiday break equals time with Chris. Hopefully.
I think back to August and the crazy, non-stop events that took place shortly after my nineteenth birthday and lasted nearly two months. Learning I’m the one to unite the clans and pull the Bearers together really threw me for a loop. So far, I haven’t done that yet. My first meeting with Jie Wen and company went horribly sour and Crimson said she’d arrange more meetings, but that hasn’t happened. It will, I’m sure.
Yesterday, I called Clara Winter and set up a time to visit her in early January. I’ll be asking her to put together a meeting of the clans so I can address many of them at once. I know Beth’s brother, Nate, is staying with Clara. It will be good to see both of them.
I pack up my things to head home for Christmas. Marketa will be staying at my parents’ home as well. Although, she’ll be in-and-out periodically.
Maetha has assigned several tasks to Marketa, since Maetha can’t do them herself. She’s still in hiding.
The blogger seems to have dropped off the map. Halleluiah!
Perhaps Christmas break will be peaceful.
Chapter 15 - The Diamond Bearer’s Secret
It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m in Denver with Marketa.
The decision to leave my parents’ home came after a new post showed up on the blog. Additionally, the blog post was picked up by some much bigger bloggers with millions of followers. The blog post claims that pictures and the names of two Diamond Bearers will be released today. Chris heard Max was heading to Denver, so he and Maetha are flying here as well. I’m excited to see Chris again, especially on New Year’s Eve to welcome in the new year. But if the blogger, whom we believe is Max, releases my name and picture, my whole world will change. I don’t think I’d be able to return to college, and I’d most certainly have a target on my head.
At least Christmas break was nice and quiet . . . well, up to this point.
Marketa comes into the living room. “Max’s plane lands in twenty minutes. Let’s go. We don’t want to lose visual on him.”
“Okay.”
We leave the house and get in the car. I’m thrilled with the prospect that when we get back, Chris might be here waiting for me. I’ve really missed him.
Marketa drives to Max’s home address, according to General Harding’s files, and parks along the road by the apartment complex.
Max arrives forty minutes later. He parks his car, gets out toting a laptop bag, and enters his apartment.
He comes out after fifteen minutes, carrying a large suitcase and the laptop bag.
I say, “That’s a big suitcase. I wonder where he’s planning on going?”
After he leaves the parking lot in his car, Marketa follows him from a distance.
“He’s too far ahead of us, Marketa. We’re going to lose him.”
Marketa shakes her head. “It’s fine. I’m following his scent.”
I wonder what she’s talking about, because Max told Chris he was run through the power-removing machine, the same as Chris. He wouldn’t have a scent. Perhaps Marketa is talking about a cologne or particular smell of his vehicle.
Crimson’s voice enters my mind. I’m nearby, Calli. I’ll be by your side. Marketa won’t know. Just stay calm. I am relieved to hear her instruction and to know she’s nearby. I take a deep breath and calm myself.
We follow Max to a big chain bookstore, the kind with a coffee vendor inside and free Wi-Fi service. This must be where he’s going to access the Internet, like Jonas supposed.
He enters the building, carrying only the laptop case, and turns toward the coffee bar.
“Let’s go,” Marketa says, parking the car and shutting off the engine.
“What are we going to say to him if he’s actually uploading?” I ask as we jump out of the car.
“We’ll deal with the situation as it presents itself.”
We position ourselves behind a tall rack of magazines, out of his sight. Max has his laptop case slung over his shoulder while he waits in line for his coffee. At the checkout stand, he speaks with the male cashier and places his laptop bag on the counter. The cashier takes the bag and places it down at his feet where another identical bag is then picked up and placed on the counter. Everything happens so smoothly, nothing looks out of the ordinary. I have to assume they’ve done this many times. Max takes the bag and his coffee and sits at a table. He removes the laptop and turns it on, sipping on his coffee as he waits for the system to boot up.
Marketa directs me to a closer location where we can see Max better.
He sets his coffee down and pulls out a flash drive from his pocket, then inserts it into the slot on the side of the computer.
Jonas was spot-on about the flash drive, but even he didn’t suspect Max might use someone else’s computer.
I receive the eerie sense that my future holds obsidian. I tell Marketa with my mind, We should run. I sense obsidian.
I do too, but we need to stay on course. We have our charged topazes and will be able to run if we need to, she reassures me. Come on.
Crimson says, You’ll be fine, Calli. Don’t use your topaz. Let this play out naturally.
Marketa leads me toward Max. We’re going to confront him.
Max sees us approaching and smiles—not the type of reaction I expected. I read his mind and find he’s placing thoughts out for easy reading. I didn’t expect to see you here, Marketa. Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing Calli?
I’m floored by what he’s saying to Marketa, but I try not to let my face give away the fact that I can hear his thoughts. I question Crimson in a panic, Are you sure I should stay here? He knows Marketa.
Yes. Let this play out.
I hear Marketa’s telepathic conversation. Do it, Max, shoot her.
Now? he asks.
I plead with Crimson. Are you sure about this?
Marketa yells with her thoughts, Yes!
But I haven’t posted the blog yet, Max responds.
If you don’t shoot her first, she’ll disable you. Hurry!
Max pulls a small p
istol from the laptop case, trying to keep the gun low so other customers don’t see it. My fight or flight instinct is to run, but Crimson seems to know something I don’t, so I stay put. I watch in horror as he aims. I enter his mind to see where he’s aiming exactly because I know the gun isn’t a big enough caliber to blast my heart out. At best, he can only injure me. His sights are set on my shoulder. Why there?
He squeezes the trigger. Intense pain rips through my left shoulder as the blast of the shot deafens my hearing temporarily. Even more terrifying, the bullet must be made of obsidian because my powers have drained from my body. I drop to the ground, narrowly dodging being hit with the next round he fires. A rack of ceramic coffee cups is hit, sending bits of shattered mugs raining down on my head.
Bystanders scream and run, some yelling, “He’s got a gun!” through the previously quiet bookstore.
I can’t believe I’ve been shot. Crimson said I’d be fine. I still have my running topaz that works in the presence of obsidian, but I highly doubt I could run very fast with this amazingly painful injury.
Max continues to aim the gun at me but doesn’t pull the trigger. Our eyes are locked for a second, then he lowers the gun a fraction of an inch. He looks at Marketa and shakes his head, then runs, waving his gun to make the frightened people get out of his way.
Marketa bends over me, not knowing I’ve heard her thoughts. “Are you all right?” she asks, expressing fake concern.
She wasn’t following his scent earlier. She knew exactly where he was going. A memory flashes through my head of her saying she’d keep the blogger away from me while I attended college. Now I know she meant “literally.” She and Max are obviously partners. I nod, holding my bleeding shoulder.
Her eyes travel over my shoulder area. “Looks like the obsidian bullet shattered and pelted you with a bunch of shards.”
Interesting that she knows it’s an obsidian bullet. She hasn’t even touched me yet. I want to point that fact out to her, but Crimson stops me.
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