Diana turned, and placed plates and silverware on the table. “You were trying to protect her. Give her some time and space. She’ll come around.”
“She didn’t believe anything I said. She couldn’t deny seeing the dragon, but she was having nothing to do with it being Ping or with me having metaphysical abilities. She said she thought I had used a cattle prod on the dragon.”
“Boy, that Vanderberg guy had no trouble believing Ping was the dragon. Did you see his face when he saw Ping before he ran out of here?” Sam said.
“If you ask me, that Vanderberg man got off easy, all things considered. Thanks to the Proctors. It was very nice of them to come over and help out like that,” Diana said. “I really liked them a lot, especially Melanie.”
“They struck me as your kind of people,” Mara said, watching her mother scoop eggs out of a frying pan with a spatula onto the plates in front of them.
“Mrs. Proctor says she wants to do a reading for me tomorrow,” Sam said.
“What? How are you going to see her tomorrow?”
“Mom invited them over for dinner after you went to sleep last night,” Sam said.
Mara turned to catch her mother’s eye, trying unsuccessfully not to glare.
Diana held up the spatula as if surrendering. “What? Like you said, they are my kind of people. Is that okay with you?”
“I was hoping for a quiet weekend without any metaphysics, dragons or weird goings-on from distant dimensions.”
“It’s only a Sunday dinner with friends. Mr. Ping begged off, so there won’t be any dragons in attendance. As for the rest of your concerns, you can excuse yourself after we eat, and we’ll do our best to keep the weird goings-on to a low roar so as not to disturb Her Highness.”
Sam snorted. “Her Highness. Got that right.”
“Shut up,” Mara said, then turned to her mother who had just sat down. “I’m having trouble getting used to having a peanut gallery around whenever we talk now.”
“Sam’s got you at a disadvantage in that regard.” Diana buttered a slice of toast.
“What do you mean?” Mara asked.
“He grew up with a big sister. You’ve only had a little brother for a few weeks.”
“Did it ever occur to you that his Mara and Diana turned into psychopaths because they had to live with him?”
“Hey!” Sam yelled with a mouthful of eggs, then added a muffled, “It wasn’t my fault.”
Diana patted his arm and glared at her daughter. “Mara’s kidding. Aren’t you, sweetie?”
Mara rolled her eyes. “Yeah, just pulling your leg, bro. I was evil before you got here.”
Sam snorted again, shook his head. “Evil.”
“What, I can’t be evil?”
“You whine too much to be evil.”
Mara’s response was interrupted by an electronic tone coming from the living room.
Sam tilted his head toward the sound. “That’s not your Tamagotchi again is it?”
“No, that’s my phone,” she said, standing and running out of the kitchen. Over her shoulder, she called, “It might be Abby. Let me check.”
A moment later she walked back into the kitchen and put the phone by her plate.
“Is it Abby?” Diana asked.
“No, it’s Detective Bohannon. Remember? He was one of the investigators on the plane crash.”
“The one that didn’t turn into a lizard,” Sam added.
“Why would he be calling you?” her mother asked.
“He’s been looking into some of the weird things going on related to the people who were on the flight. That’s how we met the Proctors. He asked me and Ping to go with him downtown on Thursday.” The phone continued to emit a set of staccato beeps.
“Aren’t you going to answer?”
“No.”
“What if he’s found something strange with one of the passengers?” Sam asked.
“My guess is he’s not calling because he wants advice on how to take down a shoplifter.” She tapped the icon that sent the call to voice mail and picked up her fork.
CHAPTER 29
Downtown Oregon City appeared deserted as Diana’s new Ford Edge stopped at the red light at the intersection of Main and Seventh Street in Oregon City. Sunday mornings were usually quiet down here, particularly during the fall and winter months when the air was chilly and the skies were gray. Diana leaned forward over the steering wheel and looked left to the Oregon City Municipal Elevator and then to the right to the on-ramp of the Oregon City Bridge that crossed the Willamette River and connected to West Linn.
“You know, every time we come down here, something follows us home,” Sam said from the passenger seat. “Mara is going to get bent out of shape if she has to use the Chronicle to send some beastie back to its realm again.”
“Well, what Mara doesn’t know won’t hurt her, will it?” Diana said, flipping on her turn signal. “We’ll take the big interstate bridge home, how’s that?”
“That’s a good idea. Hey, is it weird that I like shopping with you?”
“No, why do you ask?”
“One of the guys I play basketball with made a crack about it when I said I like to go grocery shopping.”
“I think it’s fair to say that most fourteen-year-old boys would rather do something else. But you’re not most fourteen-year-olds, are you?”
“I like to see all that food in one place. It’s amazing.”
“I imagine that you’ll find other things to amaze you once you get used to grocery stores.”
The light turned green, and Diana made the turn and ascended the road toward the small bridge that swept over the narrow roadway.
As they approached the opening of the latticed gray arch, Sam craned his neck to look out over the murky green currents passing below. “Considering everything that happened here, I’m surprised that you don’t take the other bridge all the time. Doesn’t it freak you out to come here?” Sam asked.
“I’ve always liked this little bridge. It’s a bit narrow, but it makes me feel like I’m still living in simpler times. Besides, this bridge is where I found you. How could I not love coming down here?”
Sam blushed. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it. Mara still hates it. I don’t think she’ll ever come down here again.”
* * *
Inside the grocery store, Sam ogled the shelves while pushing the shopping cart and trying to keep an eye on his mother at the same time. He had a habit of bumping her backside when she stopped to read a label or consider an item. As they approached a display for instant soup that constricted the aisle to half its normal width, they found themselves blocked in by a shopper coming from the opposite direction. Sam made a point of pulling up to the display and allowing the young woman to go by, along with her screaming baby propped up in the cart and a toddler hanging from her pants.
The woman stopped and lifted the baby from the cart, and then turned around to respond to the tugging toddler below her knee. The screaming baby’s face reddened. Its scrunched-up face hung over his mother’s shoulder, three feet from Sam’s nose.
Sam leaned forward and said, “Oh, baby. Shhh. Hey, baby. Open your eyes.”
Somehow, the sound of his voice cut through the screaming, and the baby blinked releasing a flood of tears down his cheeks.
“Hi, there.” Sam smiled, and cocked his head back and forth playfully.
The baby whimpered and inhaled for another howl.
“No, no. Be a happy baby,” Sam prompted.
The infant sniffed a couple times and broke out in a wide smile, bobbing his head jerkily into his mother’s shoulder. After wiping the toddler’s nose, the mother straightened and looked relieved at Diana. “Sorry, got my hands full here.”
“I completely understand,” Diana said, nodding.
Once the woman had moved on, clearing the aisle, Sam steered around the display and walked up to his mother’s side.
“Did you use your ability on that baby
?” Diana said.
“Yeah, I prompted him to not cry. I’m not sure how long it will last if he needs a diaper change or if he’s hungry. He could start up again in a few minutes.”
As they turned down the next aisle, Diana pointed to a can of beans, and Sam put it in the cart. “Are there any lasting aftereffects once you do that to people?”
“Aftereffects? No, most people shake it off after a few minutes.”
“Can you make people do whatever you want?”
“Pretty much, but it only lasts a few minutes, so if I prompt someone to do something they wouldn’t normally do, they revert back. I can’t change someone’s way of thinking permanently. It’s usually only helpful in temporary situations. For example, if someone is trying to punch me in the face, I can prompt them not to. That doesn’t mean they aren’t going to want to punch me in the face the next time they see me.”
“Have you ever used this ability on me?”
Sam gave her an odd look. “No, why would I?’
“I don’t know. Let’s say you wanted to go play basketball, and I wanted you to do some chores around the house. Could you prompt me to let you go play basketball?”
“Yes, but after a few minutes you would change your mind. And, over time, you’d figure out what I was doing. That probably wouldn’t be very smart.”
“So a person can become aware of what you are doing?”
“A person who knows I’m a prompter can figure it out easily enough. How long do you think the chores are going to go undone before you figure out what’s going on?”
“I guess that makes sense, but what keeps you from abusing this ability?”
“What do you mean?”
Diana grabbed a candy bar off the shelf and held it out. “What’s keeping you from walking up to the counter and prompting the clerk into thinking you had paid for it?”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. What’s keeping you from tucking it into a pocket and walking out with it?”
“My sense of right and wrong.”
“Me too.”
Diana blushed, wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulders and pulled him to her. “How did you turn out to be such a great kid? I’m sorry.”
“No problem. You’re trying to figure out how to have a son, like Mara’s trying to figure out how to have a brother.”
“I guess you’ve got one up on both of us.” Diana tousled his hair.
“Yeah, but there’s still one thing I haven’t experienced yet.”
“What’s that?”
“Having a father.”
Going slightly pale, Diana forced a thin smile and said, “Lots to look forward to.” She waved a hand to the front of the store. “I think we have everything. Let’s head home.”
* * *
That evening Mara had to admit it was nice sitting around talking and eating like normal people, even if it was with a healer and a woman who read people’s souls. All in all, the Proctors actually seemed like normal people, more normal than a lot of the New Age crowd her mother brought home at times. After dinner they gathered around the fireplace in the living room.
“Denton, can you explain to me how your ability works? Do you consider it a spiritual gift from a higher power?” Diana asked.
He shook his head. “No, nothing so high and mighty as that. It’s purely a biochemical process that is natural for people from my . . . what do you call it?”
“Realm,” Mara chimed in.
“Right, it’s how we take care of each other in my realm. It’s as natural as eating or sleeping to us. It amazes me that people here ever formed families or communities at all. This healing ability was the basis of those institutions developing in my world.”
Melanie Proctor patted him on the knee. “People come together for many things other than healing—to share food, companionship, protection. Healing may have been a catalyst for people in your realm, but it wasn’t the only one.”
“I suppose that’s true, but it definitely provides a lot of opportunities for people to bond much more closely. People here seem to be detached from each other.”
Melanie turned to Diana and said, “You see, his real motivation isn’t to make people feel better. He wants them to be closer to each other.”
“That may be challenging if you are the only one who can heal people,” Mara said. “I can see how people might be grateful and feel closer to you, but I don’t see how they will feel closer to each other.”
Denton shook his head. “No, I don’t think you understand. Once I heal someone, the enzymes in my body pass to them. The healed person becomes a healer.”
Mara slowly turned to look at her mother, who smiled and said, “Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Are you telling people that you are infecting them with this ability? Warning them?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t really see the need. You have to remember that they are usually sick or injured when I first meet them. I don’t want to cause them undue stress by forcing them to make a decision about whether or not they want to be a healer.”
“So you’re making the decision for them?” Mara’s face reddened as she tried to keep her voice at a normal level. “That’s completely not your call to make. It is not your place to force this on people.”
“Mara, I’m not forcing them to heal people. They are getting the ability as a side effect, if you will, of my helping them. What they choose to do with it is completely up to them. Some of them may never realize they have the ability and go on with their lives none the wiser. Some may choose to heal and others may not. The only alternative is not to help people, not to heal them, and, for me, that would be unnatural and unethical.”
The tension left Mara’s face. “From your perspective, that makes sense. I didn’t mean to imply you were doing something nefarious, though that’s how it sounded. It’s just I’ve been dealing with this realm-crossing stuff for a few weeks now, and it never seems to work out the way you think it will.”
Melanie leaned over and patted Mara’s knee. “Don’t you worry about it, dear. No offense taken at all. I was telling Denton on the way over here what a strong sense of right and wrong you have. He understands. Don’t you, honey?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. We all want to do the right thing.”
Mara turned to Melanie. “Please tell me that your ability to read people doesn’t pass to others. I don’t think I could deal with having that bouncing around in my head.”
“Of course not, dear. My ability is unique to me. It is very uncommon even for people from my realm.”
Sam, who was sitting on the hearth next to the armchair in which Mara sat, leaned over and pretended to whisper, “Could we wrap up the inquisition of the Proctors sometime soon? Mrs. Proctor said she would read my insides, and I’m kinda getting antsy.”
Melanie patted the couch next to her, opposite from where her husband sat. “Why don’t you come over here, honey, and we’ll take a peek at those insides, assuming it’s okay with your mother.”
“By all means. What young man couldn’t benefit from an examination of his soul.” Diana smiled. “Mr. Ping tells me it is rather revelatory.”
As Sam walked over, Melanie glanced across the room to Mara. “What did you think of the experience, Mara?”
“I found it a little disconcerting, but, to be fair, I would have to say that I am still assimilating the experience. I’m not sure how to interpret a lot of the information.”
“You don’t need to overanalyze the session, but let it inform you when the time is right,” Melanie said and then scooted to face Sam. She placed her hands on his cheeks holding his face like a mother checking for smudges. “You don’t seem the least bit nervous about doing this.”
“Naw, I think it’s kind of cool. It’s like going to a fortune-teller,” he said.
“Well, I don’t tell fortunes. The information from the readings comes from your psyche. Some people think of it as their subconscious. You see, at a deeper level, you have senses that
your conscious mind is not aware of. You are gathering and assessing reams of information that you aren’t even aware of. I tap into this information and share it with you.”
“Okay, go for it.” Sam closed his eyes and relaxed into her hands.
Melanie closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a few minutes.
When she slowly opened them again, Sam’s eyelids slid up as well as if they were synchronized with hers. She said, “Where do I belong?” Not in her voice, but in Sam’s.
The boy’s eyes widened, and he responded, “Here. I belong here, with my mom and sister. This is where I live.”
Melanie responded, “No, in this place, I am dead, buried, long forgotten.”
Diana leaned forward from the other armchair across the room, beginning to reach for her son.
Denton raised a hand, shook his head and mouthed the word don’t. He held out a flattened hand and lowered it in the air, as if commanding calm.
Diana widened her eyes in frustration but sat back with a worried frown.
Sam said, “Not anymore. This is my world, my life, my family.”
“Where do I belong?” Melanie said, mocking Sam with his own voice.
“Shut up! Nothing is going to take me away from here. This is where I belong.”
“They are ashamed of me.”
Sam didn’t respond.
“One day they will change their minds, and they will send me away, back to the place with filth and disease and starvation and darkness.”
Sam trembled and a tear rolled down his cheek.
“And you will never see them again.”
Sam leaned back, tried to pull away from the eyes that stared back at him, from the voice that he could never escape.
“And you’re father will never accept you.”
Sam blinked away the water that pooled above his lids, gritted his teeth, causing a muscle to protrude along his jaw line and a vein to bulge along his neck. “You can’t say that! I won’t let you. This is my home and my family and I will not let anyone take them away.”
Melanie’s head lolled forward, lying on her chest.
Confused, Sam sat still, looking at the top of her head, wondering if he should pull away from the hands that continued to hold his face. Just as he was about to, Melanie raised her head. She had a broad smile on her face.
Broken Souls (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 2) Page 16
