Elliott followed her back, surprised at how big the place was as room after room was revealed. At the end of a hallway there was a stairway leading up to the second floor. The door to this stairway was propped open.
“I can’t tell you how pleased I am to meet you. Griffin hasn’t sent me anyone in years now. And don’t worry,” she said and turned to the left at the top of the stairway and ushered him into a small kitchen. “Your memory will return.”
“I’m not sure I want it to,” he confessed. A strange sense built in him, and the light in the kitchen flickered.
She sent him a sharp look. “Electricity is your medium. And you don’t remember your training. Sit, sit,” and she shooed him to a small table for two tucked into a sunny corner.
“I can give you my spare room, for as long as you like. This bit up here is all mine, you see. What’s below is for customers.”
Elliott sat and rubbed his eyes.
Alexandria nodded knowingly. “You’ll need heavy duty sunglasses, you will, after spending so much time in the Compound.” She set both the kettle on the gas stove and put a mug underneath a modern espresso maker. “You’ll like this, the machine’s from Italy. It’s like a baby, I have to feed it coffee beans and water, and dump the grounds, but other than that it’s a tasty cup of coffee. Do you take sugar or cream?”
“No. Thank you.” Elliott found himself unraveling in her presence, relaxing as he couldn’t remember doing. He stretched his legs out and folded his hands on his stomach and watched her. He remembered then, and pulled out the envelope from his jacket pocket. “I was given this. Money. A large money order. Something about a bank. Driver’s license, passport, all current. How?” He shuffled through the things in the envelope. “Why?”
“Griffin. He is a powerful force.” She smiled at him. “Remember Griffin.”
Memories of the man floated in and out of his mind, and he relaxed again. “Oh. Griffin. He was the closest thing I had to a friend down there. But I would never consider him someone good.” He grimaced. “No one down there was good.”
“No one is all good, just as very few people are all evil. Most have a balance inside us. Griffin has a destiny, as do we all, and right now, he’s doing his part to get people like you out of there, with what you need to survive on the outside.”
“I don’t…I’m confused. How? Why?”
“How? Because he can. Why? You need identification. You need money in order to survive.” She smiled. “And now, you need sleep.”
“I slept. Last night, in a small cave-like place behind an abandoned house.”
“Oh. On Laurel Canyon was it?” Alexandria nodded knowingly. “And you weren’t chased out? The Lady must have approved of you then.”
“What Lady?”
“Ah. Well, that’s a tale for another time.” She brought him a whimsical mug that said “life is mysterious, don’t take it serious” on it, and set it down on the table in front of him just as the kettle whistled.
She bustled about fixing her tea and finally sat across from him. She eyed him over the steam coming from her mug. “How old were you, when you were first taken to Borgati?”
Elliott shook his head. “I don’t know. All I know is when I was diagnosed with cancer, my parents took me back to him.” He hesitated, frowned as memories trickled back. “He must have been there at my birth. Must have been my pediatrician until I got to a certain age, or rather a doctor who worked under him was my pediatrician. Or maybe we moved away? I don’t – it isn’t clear. But I remember my parents arguing about whether to take me back to Borgati or not, after I became really weak. I don’t remember who argued for which side, but they took me in to see him, and he diagnosed my cancer. He said he had a new treatment, and to bring me back in a week or so after some test results came back. He’d call us when it was time.”
Elliott took a breath as the memories came, fast and furious. “They took me out of school, and I spent the next week going to Disneyland, and to Universal Studios. We went down to San Diego and went to the beaches down there. We took a ton of photos, spent a lot of time saying ‘I love you’. It was like a last, manic spree of just living.”
He fell silent then, drank his coffee and remembered, grateful for the new connection to his past.
Alexandria laid a hand on his arm, warmth and comfort pulsing out from her. “You were so loved. I can feel it in your skin. Love leaves its mark, you know.” She wrapped both hands around her teacup once more and sipped. “What happened after that?”
“They brought me to the private hospital attached to the clinic, which is in the same area where Borgati Pharmaceuticals has their headquarters. The doctors told us exactly what they were going to do in surgery, and what the treatment would be afterwards. Chemo, but not the normal chemo. I’d probably not even lose hair. My mom was happy about that.”
Alexandria nodded. “And then?”
He met the clear blue of her eyes, so youthful in her aged face, and smiled. “When I came out of the anesthesia, my parents were there. I was able to move my fingers and toes, and smile, and recognize them. Mom cried. Dad kept squeezing my feet, as if he were afraid to touch any other part of me. I could feel myself slipping under due to the pain meds, and my parents kissed me goodbye. Said they’d see me in the morning. They were going to have a celebratory dinner on my behalf. They were so happy, holding hands and waving to me as they left, as I fell asleep. I never saw them again.”
“What happened?”
Elliott found he was grateful for her warm strength. “They had that dinner at a restaurant on the beach in Malibu. Spent a fortune on oysters and champagne and wine. I was told they were hit head-on by a drunk driver on their way home. The car burst into flames, they said.”
The pain of that moment, when he was told what had happened, came rushing back and he caught his breath at the piercing sorrow that enveloped him. Pain speared his head and he rubbed his temples. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You need sleep. It may be morning, but you still need healing. Come with me, Elliott Jones.”
Alexandria took him by the hand and led him to a bedroom with a large bed, a west-facing window, and soothing incense burning in one corner. She drew the curtains across the window and the room dropped into soft shadow.
“Sleep, for as long as you like. Stay, for as long as you like. I am a friend of yours, and you can count on me. Sleep. Stay. You are protected. And so is he whom you carry.”
At Elliott’s surprise, she smiled. “There’s a shower, if you wish. And then sleep. Please.” She left quietly, pulling the door almost but not quite shut behind her.
Obeying her was no chore. He toed off his shoes, pulled off his socks, stripped the pants and jacket and tee shirt off him and, ignoring the shower, fell into the bed wearing absolutely nothing.
3
Elliott woke, disoriented from the dreams of his past, his heart thundering. The Compound. Borgati. The pharmaceutical company the man controlled. Living hundreds of feet below ground surface. He shivered and blinked before opening his eyes. The bed beneath him was clean and soft; the air smelled of herbs and sunshine. He rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, the life he fled flooding his mind.
He wasn’t in the hellhole of the Borgati Pharma any longer. Neither was he sleeping in a crude tunnel behind an abandoned house. He’d found Alexandria.
Whoever she was.
His pulse quieted. He was safe, for now. He yawned and stretched and looked around.
The room was small, with the bare necessities – bed, bedside table, dresser, chair. But it was painted a soft blue, and there were cream and yellow touches in the furniture and the bedclothes. As well, his clothes were now neatly folded on the chair, and there was a duffle bag sitting on the floor beside the chair.
He frowned, sat up. She’d been in here, then, while he was sleeping. He hadn’t woken up, which surprised the hell out of him, as everything woke him up.
There was a shower. He remembered she had
said something about a shower, and now he spied another door. He headed toward it, found the promised shower, and took a very hot, very fast wash, getting rid of the grit and the grime, and felt immeasurably better.
Anxious to figure out what the hell was going on, he dressed in his now-clean clothes and went to find Alexandria.
She wasn’t in the kitchen, but there was a pot of beef stew on the stove and a note for him, brief and to the point.
Food. Eat it.
He grinned and filled the waiting bowl with the fragrant stew, dark and rich. His stomach rumbled. He found a loaf of French bread sitting on the counter, broke off a hunk, and took his meal to the sunny corner of the kitchen to eat.
His first taste sent him into overload. He couldn’t remember anything that tasted so good. When he emptied his bowl he filled it again, got another hunk of bread. By the time he’d finished that, he was feeling more like himself. More in control. He took his bowl to the sink and washed it out.
But we both know how little control you really have. Malachi stirred. Got your memory back, have you?
Yeah. How am I going to kill Borgati if I’m not at the Compound?
Focus on living. Borgati isn’t going anywhere.
The scent of fresh herbs came to him, calming his mind, easing the frantic beat of his heart. He looked up to see them hanging high over the stove, bundles of lavender, rosemary, and thyme in net bags to catch falling leaves.
He breathed in the scents again for the soothing of it. Left the safety of the kitchen, and headed downstairs.
There was music playing, something vaguely Celtic, with harp and flute. Incense stirred in the air, and there were people everywhere. The general feel of the place was one of anticipation, happiness, and wellbeing.
It made his skin crawl. He hadn’t been around that much feel-good-ness since he was a teen. It had all turned bad so quick; he couldn’t help but feel this couldn’t last, this palpable love-fest.
“Elliott.” Alexandria came toward him, beaming. “It’s good to see you up at last. You ate?”
“The stew was very good. I had seconds.” He looked around.
“Good. You must have slept well, because you didn’t move when I came in to get your dirty clothes yesterday.”
Elliott blinked at her. “Yesterday?”
“You slept almost twenty-eight hours, my dear. You were exhausted.”
Shocked, he frowned. “I never sleep that long. Four, five hours. Maybe six, at the most.” He stared hard at her, but she showed not a trace of self-consciousness. She hadn’t drugged him, then. He didn’t feel the aftermath of a sleep drug; usually he could pick those out, as they took forever to move out of his system. He frowned. Some memories he wished had stayed lost.
To distract himself, he looked around. “You’re busy today.”
“It’s a Saturday, so yes. Feel free to look around. If you want to hide a bit, there’s a courtyard out back, and a few places to sit in the sun. There’s tea, and coffee, as well.” With another smile, she left him to his own devices.
Elliott wandered. The place was a house, he realized, with room after room just filled with books and treasures, chairs and couches tucked away in curious corners. In a room the farthest from the front, he found books in bookcases with glass covers, and shelves filled with built-in drawers. He turned a corner and found a girl with sable brown hair curled onto a faded, blue velvet fainting couch.
She looked up from her book with a fierce attitude. Fourteen, maybe fifteen, she was in that awkwardly vulnerable stage between childhood and womanhood.
“Didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said.
“It’s okay. I thought you were a pest that’s been hanging about. But you’re not. You’re new here, aren’t you? I’m Ruby.” She held out one tanned hand.
Hiding his amusement, he took her hand briefly. “Nice to meet you, Ruby. I’m Elliott.”
“Are you looking for something special? I know where everything is here. I’ve been spending time in this store since I was just a kid.”
“Are you related to Alexandria?”
“Me? No. I wish,” the girl said feelingly. “I love her to pieces. She’s very special. Are you staying upstairs?”
Elliott raised an eyebrow. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because she doesn’t have many people to stay. And the people who do stay can be kind of weird. I just want to make sure you’re not one of the weird ones. They make Alexandria so worried, and I don’t like it when she’s worried.” Ruby’s fierceness was back in full force.
“Do I look weird?”
She put a finger to her cheek and looked him up and down. “No. You look sexy. And slightly dangerous.” Ruby clamped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. No offense meant.”
“None taken.” There was something about her that reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t remember who. Shaking off the thought, he nodded to her. “I’ll let you get back to your reading. Have a good day, Ruby.”
“You too.” She slumped back on the couch, watching him under half-closed eyelids.
Elliott felt the touch of her gaze as he left.
She was an unusual girl. Or did everyone who looked at him now see the danger? He passed off her “sexy” comment as pure teenager. She was still figuring out just what the heck “sexy” meant.
Alexandria came up to him as he wandered through the store. “Doing okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re probably gathering impressions, questions. Save them; we’ll talk later. In the meantime, I’ve got something I want you to do. This way.”
He followed her outside to a courtyard. A cold fire pit sat in the center of the circular patio; a chair plump with cushions sat half in the shade, a table next to it. A cloth patterned in purple and cream was bunched on the table.
Alexandria headed toward the chair. “Sit here. I want you to look into the crystal.” She pulled the cloth away. The crystal gleamed in the sun.
Elliott stopped in his tracks. “No.”
“Please. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. I cleansed it since I last looked into it. You should be fine. Please. For me.”
She worried the cloth, twisting it as her eyes pleaded with him.
He sucked in a breath, her need catching at him. “Why?”
“I need answers. We need answers.” Alexandria’s gaze shifted to the bit of the snake peeking from under the collar of his tee shirt, then shifted back to meet Elliott’s. “If you understand my meaning.”
Malachi moved restlessly, and Elliott wondered.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said abruptly, and sat down. “I doubt I’ll learn anything.”
“If not, then no harm done. All you need to do is hold it in your hands. Turn it, if you wish. Follow the occlusions as deep as they’ll go, and keep your mind open to messages. I’ll be in the store, but will make sure you come to no harm. Go on, then.”
She left, only tossing one anxious glance over her shoulder before she stepped inside.
Elliott closed his eyes and just sat in the sun, letting it warm his bones. He’d been underground for so long that the heat felt good. It felt…liberating. He could hear the distant rumble of a lawnmower, birds chirping. He lazed along.
“Are you okay, Elliott?”
Ruby. He opened his eyes to find the teen standing over him. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”
“Alexandria asked me to come out and check on you.” Her gaze lingered on the crystal. “Have you looked in the ball yet?”
“No. Do you want to look?”
She shook her head. “I’m not allowed. Not yet. I’m not strong enough. But I can sit here and watch you. If you want company.”
“I wouldn’t mind company. If anything goes weird, call Alexandria.”
She grinned. “That’s what she said.” Ruby sat down on the rim of the fire pit. “Don’t mind me. Scry away.” She leaned her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands.<
br />
Somehow having her there made it easier. Elliott picked up the crystal. It had to be about five inches in diameter, and to his surprise it wasn’t clear like they always are in the movies. As Alexandria had said, this one had occlusions, lines and fractures making snowy-white planes amid the clear quartz.
He rolled it from hand to hand, letting it warm up, and watched the sunlight catch deep inside.
“You’re supposed to hold it up to your eyes so you can see,” Ruby said.
Elliott ignored her; he’d caught something. The sight of something in the striations of crystal startled him, and made his heart pound.
He looked deeper.
It was like watching a movie that he couldn’t stop, but it didn’t make any sense.
There were his parents, driving. A late night, but they were happy. Until a panic filled the car as his dad tried to brake, and the car kept going, kept speeding up, down Pacific Coast Highway in the dead of night without brakes.
Elliott watched as his dad reached for his mom’s hand, both their lips moving, but he couldn’t hear the words. They jolted when the car hit the guardrail. His parents clung to each other as the car sailed over the edge and landed, fifty feet down, on a pile of rocks.
The explosion and resulting fire had drawn lookyloos from the surrounding neighborhood.
The movie flickered, switched gears. He saw a tall, debonair gentleman in eighteenth century garb trading quips with a beautiful woman just before she plunged a silver-tipped dagger into his heart, and swung a sword at his head.
Switch. Borgati, looking as young as he did now, but a couple of centuries earlier. Crying as the young vampire he’d turned died in his arms, a withered husk.
Then the pictures came faster, each one another dead or dying vampire. Each time, the madness grew behind Borgati’s eyes.
And then the pictures became those of children, and Elliott realized why he’d escaped. Why Griffin had helped him. There was much to be done to save those kids. But where to begin?
One last frame startled him and he dragged his gaze away, not willing to see it. But he looked again, and saw the red vapor that had come off his body. Saw Alexandria change form. He blinked and shut his eyes.
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