by Lexi Aurora
It was only after several seconds of staring that she realized she recognized one of those suited monoliths. It was Gabriel!
So, this was the career that he needed so much advice on. He was a body guard; some sort of off-brand secret service for a politician in what sounded like a distant country. That was…very different from everything she had been imagining.
She wasn’t really sure how she felt about it either way, but she didn’t have much time to dwell on it. The sound of gunfire split through the air, and then suddenly, the crowd was screaming and stampeding away again.
Was it possible to have deja vu in a dream? She found herself drenched in the sensation as people began to sprint past her, fear of death evident in their eyes. It was the very first dream she had all over again. Except, this time, instead of being a child with tear-streaks down his eyes, Gabriel was a full-grown man who was trying to get the politician down a hatch into an armored vehicle.
More shots rang out and in the back of her head, she could see her last vision playing over again. This was it; this was the cliff edge that would end the man. Terror drenched every nerve of Constina’s body and she tried to run forward, but her body wouldn’t budge. She could only watch.
Eventually, exactly what she knew would happen, happened. One moment Gabriel was helping the foreign politician down into the vehicle, the next a bloom of red was blossoming on his shirt. He stood there a moment, his face growing increasingly pale, before toppling to the ground where there was no longer anyone to catch him.
“NO!” Constina screeched, sorrow wracking her frame. It was too much. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. Maybe it was dreaming about him for the past week since she had met him, or maybe it was her seeing such a kind man cut down with malice, but either way, her mind was revolting against the idea.
“Gabriel!”
The sound of her own voice made her snap her eyes open, and she realized that she was standing in the middle of her bedroom. She wasn’t sure when that had happened, in the same way she wasn’t sure when she had started crying. Had it been in her dream? Oh well. It wasn’t like it mattered. She had just watched the nicest person she had met in years be murdered.
She sat back down on the bed, pulling her laptop towards her. Quickly, she scoured international news sites to see if there was any sort of assassination attempt.
She knew that any sort of political shooting had to be on one of the big sites, and yet, after fifteen minutes of searching, she’d come up with nothing.
So, it had been another vision, or premonition, not her seeing an event from across the room as it happened. That was better, she supposed. It gave her time.
“Time to do what?” she snapped at herself.
But even as she was speaking, she knew what she had to do. Her abilities were being so insistent that it had to mean something.
…and even if she didn’t, she wasn’t going to just sit in her apartment and let a good man die when she could do something about it.
But how was she supposed to find out where and when this rally was going to be? Her dream made it seem as though it would be soon, but what if it was some unknown point long in the future?
As if in response to her unvoiced doubts, she saw a thumbnail of what she was ninety percent sure was the politician that she had seen at the pulpit. Hastily, she clicked on it, and all sorts of vital information began to scroll past her eyes.
His name was Fernando D’oirielle and he was apparently causing all sorts of ripples with his adamant rejection of the big drug cartels and their corruption of the system. The laypeople loved him, because he spoke of returning wealth to the citizens and ending the tyranny of the cartels, and those in power were…less than enthusiastic about that idea.
According to the article, there had already been four attempts on the forty-seven-year-old man’s life, and they postulated that someone was going to try again at the next grassroots rally.
That caught her attention and she looked to the date. It was scheduled in just three days in Mexico City. If she had money, she could hop on a plane and be there in less than half a day. But she very much didn’t have money or the time to come up with a solid enough con to get herself on a flight that didn’t involve bankrupting individuals. And that was one thing she never did. As easy as it was to schmooze joe schmoe out of his hard-earned dollars, she only did that for pocket change at best. Not life-savings like some scumbags you might have read about in the news.
But, that didn’t mean she couldn’t take a bus.
Pulling up the local stop’s ticket site, she entered her info. One ticket, she would handle the return later, to Mexico City, leaving immediately.
Less than five minutes later, she was all set and emailing her receipt to her phone. Nodding to herself, she got out of bed, shoved all of her prescriptions into a bag, then got ready for the Hail Mary of a lifetime.
Chapter Six: Actions are Stronger than Dreams
Constina was reminded for the tenth time why she hated crowds as she stood in what felt like the center of the furor. It was less than a couple hours before the rally was going to start; she had somehow made it to Mexico City without being kidnapped or losing her nerve, and she was trying to find the armored vehicle before the assassins did.
Or assassin. Her dream hadn’t exactly been clear about that.
However, no matter where she looked in the crowd, she only saw sea upon sea of eagerly waiting faces. Every color, ethnicity, age and gender seemed to be present. They were happily anticipating the start of what they thought was going to be an edifying experience. They had no idea of what was going to happen.
Unless she could stop it.
But how? How was she supposed to find a specific vehicle when she didn’t know where it came from or even what time this whole shooting was going down?
Well, her abilities had gotten her into this mess, so maybe they could get her out.
Closing her eyes, she slowed her breathing and tried to concentrate. She reached out with her mind, feeling for anything that reminded her of Gabriel. For several minutes, there was nothing, and then she felt the tiniest tug at the corner of her mind.
Without opening her lids, she moved forward, gently guiding people out of her way when they would let her and roughly shoving past those who would not. She knew what she was doing was dangerous, but she didn’t care. Step by step she progressed, time stretching on with no way to measure it, until finally her feet caught on something and she went toppling to the ground.
“Miss, are you alright?”
She allowed herself to look up and saw a callused, tanned hand offered to her. Grasping it, she was pulled to her feet by a man in a black suit with a white button-up. Her heart skipped for a moment, but she realized he wasn’t Gabriel.
“I’m fine,” she answered. “But you won’t be.”
He took a step back and his hand went to what she assumed was a gun within his coat. “Come again.”
“Wait, I worded that terribly.” Her heartrate picked up as she realized how much that had sounded like a threat. “I’m here to warn you. If you guys go into that crowd, someone is going to shoot at you, and several of you will die.”
His face clouded over into an aggressive snarl compared to the polite visage he had worn just moments ago. “How do you know this?”
“It’s complicated.”
He stepped forward and seized her arm. “Come with me.”
She didn’t need abilities to sense this was not going in the direction she needed it to. “Wait! Ask Gabriel! He’ll understand. Really.”
“Gabriel?”
“Yeah, he’s one of your protection squad. How could you not know that?”
The man abruptly changed his direction and a familiar vehicle came into sight. He began to yell something in a different language, and for a moment nothing happened.
The fortune teller was sure this was the end for her, but then the door of the armored car opened and Gabriel was stepping out.
“Con
stina?” he breathed, as surprised to see her as she was relieved to see him. “What are you doing here?”
“You know that path? You’re on it and someone is going to shoot into the crowd if you guys keep going. But I’m on the other side, at the one you couldn’t cross on your own, and I realize that I’m the one who’s supposed to help you over.”
“What the hell is she talking about?” the man holding her snapped.
“It’s alright, Yusev. She’s with me.”
“And she is?”
“Normally, she’s a damned good recon agent. Right now? I’m not sure, but I’d trust what she says.” His intense gaze seemed to take in all of her and a soft smile warmed his face. It was the first time she had ever seen him grin, and it filled her with a fuzziness that took the edge off the fear wracking her nerves.
“I don’t know how many, but there are gunmen waiting for you, and if you go out into that square, you will die, and so will other innocent people. You need to get out of here, now.”
Without another word, he leaned back into the vehicle and shouted several things in that language that she didn’t understand. It didn’t seem like Spanish, but she was by no means an expert.
“Evacuate?” the man holding her objected. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” Gabriel answered, stepping out of the vehicle. “Now both of you get inside before–”
That now-familiar, sickening boom cut through the air and Constina’s stomach dropped. Before any of them could process it, a bullet ricocheted off the vehicle and nearly hit her in the leg.
“Get down!” Gabriel yelled, pulling his gun out and aiming it behind them. Constina craned her neck, and she saw a little fleck of black on one of the buildings above. Her brain quickly identified it as a gunman, and time seemed to slow down as another vision was projected down to her.
It was different from the others. Instead of being a scene played on its own apart from reality, it almost seemed like after-images done on shoddy film, except they were happening before the action.
In explicit detail, she saw the bullet discharge from the muzzle, fly through the air, then bury itself in Gabriel’s chest.
“No!” she cried yet again, an echo of the same sound she’d made in her dream.
Sprinting forward, she rushed to him. Every name she had ever been called, every psychotic med she had ever had to take, every time she had felt alone and inhuman was all for this moment.
“Gabriel!” It was more of a screech out of her mouth than a name, but she threw herself onto him just as andexplosive crack sounded behind her.
And just like that, reality caught up to her vision with a dagger of burning pain into her back. Constina gasped, her legs crumpling beneath her. It hurt even more than she had imagined, but somehow, it didn’t matter.
Gabriel caught her as she fell, hauling her into the vehicle and screaming more orders that she didn’t understand. The pain began to slowly fade in his strong arms, and she looked up at him happily.
He was talking to her, but she couldn’t quite catch what he was saying. She supposed it didn’t matter now. The vision was complete. Her purpose was complete. She could close her eyes and finally have her peace.
And so, she did.
Chapter Seven: Happy Resolution to the Revolution
Constina had been so prepared for her end. Like she had been some sort of metaphysical entity put onto the earth solely to save Gabriel and that politician, she had expected to just evaporate into the air and take her abilities with her.
Except she didn’t seem to be quite dead.
Consciousness came to her in uneven, unpredictable waves, slowly tugging her closer and closer to the surface until she opened her eyes to an entirely too bright room.
“Constina! You’re awake!”
Her eyelids fluttered but she managed to turn her eyes to see Gabriel beside her bed. There was blood spattered across his shirt and for a moment she was utterly terrified. But then she realized it was her own and a strangled laugh escaped her throat.
“Apparently,” she ground out, her voice barely a rasp. “What’s going on? Where are we?”
“A hospital. You’ve been under for a couple of days. You had surgery to remove the bullet from between your ribs. Doctors have given you a clean bill of health as long as you take it easy and recover.”
“Oh, wow. Not a bad deal for taking a bullet, I guess.”
The corner of his mouth went up again. “About that. Why are you here? Why did you risk your life for me? You don’t even know me.”
With a wan smile of her own, she reached for him. Once more, the moment her hands touched, she was swept off into a vision again.
The two of them were out on a date, laughing over too-tall burgers and exchanging unsure glances. It was awkward and hopeful, and full of all those nice fuzzy feelings that came along with first dates.
They were both in their pajamas, legs intertwined on some sort of fancy couch while they pounded down some cereal. Children’s commercials were playing on the television, but they both laughed easily, not a care in the world outside of each other.
Gabriel coming home with a busted cheekbone, blood pooled in the lower part of his eye. She cooed and fussed over him, ranting that his job was far too dangerous even with a fortune teller on his side. He just grinned, seemingly amused as she stitched up the cut then applied an icepack to his face.
Then all of those scenes faded and the two of them were cuddled together in front of a fire in what looked like a cabin, albeit one of those resort ones that was far outside of Constina’s price range.
There was an empty bottle of champagne lying next to them, and what looked like the tops of more than a dozen strawberries.
No words were exchanged between them, but they didn’t need them. Gabriel leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. They stayed like that for several moments, just experiencing each other and taking comfort in the steady rhythm of their own breathing.
It did not take long, however, for their lips to touch, and soon passion was rushing through the both of them, uninhibited.
Their mouths moved against each other, desperate and searching. It was perfect, and delicious, and everything that she had been wanting for so long.
His hands roved her body without restrain, pulling at the strings of the delicate, silky robe she was wearing before pulling back long enough for him to devour her with his gaze. It was as intense and intimidating as ever, but this time she wanted him to see through her. To know everything she was feeling and wanted with all of her body.
His hand reached out almost tentatively, reverently, before cupping one of her breasts. Her breath hitched, and she pressed herself into his palm. Slinging her arms around his neck, she pulled him back to her in order claim his lips with her own.
He didn’t fight her kiss, but his hands did not lay idle either. He unclasped her bra, nearly ripping it from her frame in his desperation to get to her. But his urgency only made him want her more and she arched even more into his touch as his callused fingers rolled her sensitive nipple between them.
Her head fell back, letting everything else in the world fall away. There was only the two of them, and the perfect things they could do to each other. Lost in the moment, she let out a mewl. Gabriel, obviously emboldened by the sound, pulled her fully into his lap, allowing her to wrap her legs around his strong, muscled center.
She could feel that his body was both tense and sweating, completely caught up in the need for her. Not to mention the solid, straining bulge she could feel pressing against her bottom insistently.
Being wanted was almost like a drug, and better than any of the anti-psychotics that she had been suppressing her abilities with. With a wicked smirk, she ground against him, letting her nearly-bare bottom glide along his own underwear.
They were entirely too dressed in her opinion.
They sat like that for several long moments, moving against each other as their mouths continued their dance. But
eventually, she was ready to continue. Sitting up slightly, she gripped his face in both of her hands.
“I need you on your feet,” she whispered, voice low with her own ardent desire.
He looked almost as if he wanted to object, and crush her to him once more, but a few moments later he gave in. Like a Greek statue unfurling, he slowly stood until she was face to face with his straining length hidden just beneath his underwear.
That had to go first. With a bit less patience than she probably should have had, she yanked the piece of fabric down and he stepped out of them. Tossing them to the side, she settled back down so she was comfortable, her knees pressed into the soft blanket that they had been sprawled on. She hear his breath hitch, the anticipation in the air around him almost tangible. If she was feeling particularly mischievous, she would have drawn it out for much longer. But her own patience was running thin as it were, and she dragged her tongue across the rigid skin there, leaving a trail of wetness in its path.
The shocked, borderline-amazed sound he made was a melody to her ears. She took him fully into her mouth, making sure to keep her teeth appropriately covered. In the universal sign that she was doing a good job, his fingers slid into her hair, gripping the dark strands there. Normally she wasn’t much for hair-pulling, but it just made her feel that much more in the moment as she guided her, setting a rhythm to his liking.
A strange feeling of power overtook her as she worked him. There was something particularly heady about your partner getting lost in the pleasure you were letting loose in their body.
She grew more and more enthused, holding her breath for longer, until he pulled her off with some urgency.
“Sorry,” he rasped, looking at her with a slightly guilty expression. “I’m not ready to end this here yet.”
“That’s okay,” she answered back, equally breathless. “Neither am I.”
They shared a knowing look and she slowly leaned back until she was laying on the blanket they had laid out. A small spike of self-consciousness shot through her –it had been so long since she had been with anyone– but it quickly faded as Gabriel knelt in front of her. His rough fingers hooked into the waistband of her overly lacey thong and pulled them down past her hips, past her thigh highs, past her ankles and then finally they were completely gone from her.
