Conroy’s eyes turned from Justine to Patrick, the golden boy of Spectrum, the brains, ambition, optimism, as well as being the illicit playboy. He worried about the apparent relationship that had bloomed between Justine and Patrick, but he also had to acknowledge that the pair had kept things professional while on the job, therefore giving him no reason to intercede. Having never had any children of his own, Conroy didn't realize that his protective feelings for Justine were very fatherly, and he hoped like hell that Patrick wouldn't break her heart.
When Conroy finally noticed that the team was staring at him anxiously waiting for direction, he shoved his personal thoughts aside and did what he was meant to do--direct them into action!
There was a heavy feeling of respect and solemn appreciation. It seemed as it every one of them was aware that they were treading on sacred ground. The team who usually scurried into action somberly unpacked the minimal portable equipment that they had been authorized to use.
Before scouting out their respective sections of the field, the team turned almost as one to Conroy waiting for something inexplicable. Not only was it the most honorable assignment they had ever been given, it was also precious and carried with it a deep respect for the events that had played out here over 200 years ago. It was as if each team member realized that they were free Americans due to the battle won and the lives that had been lost here.
Conroy easily sensed the team’s anxiety, and signaled them near, silently reaching for the nearest two hands. The team created an awkward handheld circle of overwhelmed, somber souls. The weight of six pairs of eyes desperately seeking some sort of ease made Conroy nervous. To his own mind he was a simple man, and not used to displays of emotion; he was a scientist first and foremost, after all.
"We give thanks, and offer our respect to those who still wander these fields, to those who have died for us here. We wish only for them to be heard, for their story to be told not on the pages of a book by a historian, but by their own emotions which we are feeling even now."
Each of them had symbolically bowed their heads, feeling partly ridiculous, but silently agreeing that the occasion was indeed exceptional and needed special acknowledgement. Conroy felt his heart pounding as his sweaty hands gripped onto Claudia and Liz. He hoped that his words carried as much weight as he wished into them.
For a moment longer the team stood there silently like an ancient ritual circle of love and hope, their own positive energy attempting to settle the souls around them. The souls they were intruding upon for scientific and financial gain. Finally Liz stepped back, wiping her damp hand on her pants with an appalled look storming over her face.
The team quietly set off, each with cameras ready, a clip board in one hand, a pen in the other, a digital thermometer swinging from their wrists, and an EMF meters and EVP recorders attached to their hips.
The day was windy and full of clouds that announced the impending rain storm. Justine gazed up at the somber sky and wondered how much it knew of the people beneath it that looked up to it hopefully each day. Was Mother Nature really an entity who sees and even better feels the emotions of her children? The afternoon clouds reflected what would later that night be a full moon, and Justine couldn't help but wonder if the full moon truly did have an affect on the human personality. It all seemed too vast and great to conceive so simply.
Though the grass was a brilliant bright green, tended lovingly, Justine could still sense the crimson blood glistening like a beacon of war, proclaiming of both life and death. Attempting to shake away her oppressive thoughts Justine walked towards the empty far end of the field, needing to distance herself from the others.
The sudden sound of horse hooves rearing close shocked her. Soldiers in blue torn and bloodied coats had appeared and darted around her, screaming battle cries and oaths for the possession of their land. Out of nowhere, a shattering cannon split through the sky, shaking the ground at her feet.
Justine ducked and covered her head, her forgotten clipboard flying onto the ground. She cowered low with her knees tucked and her face in the grass as the hooves raced by just barely missing her head. The musket felt heavy and foreign in her hands; she looked for the colonel's signal and shot at the terrifying enemy soldier approaching. She was hungry and cold, and frightened beyond any terror she had ever experienced. She had to keep moving, to keep shooting, to survive. Quickly swinging around to yet another red-coated soldier approaching, (there seemed to be an endless parade of them,) she got off another shot, watching him fall as he aimed his rifle at her. The bullet hit her so solidly in the shoulder that she was tossed back, landing abruptly on her rear. Gasping for the air that had been knocked out of her, Justine’s fingers rushed to her shoulder, where the pain tore through her body in swirls of vicious agony. Only they were no longer her fingers probing at the wound, but thicker, stronger, fingers on the solid hands of a man.
He had to fight back the tears, a soldier died proud. There was no use to cry for momma's home cooking; the pleasures of a good book, life had given him a purpose and he had served it. It would be an honor to die for this country, his country, he had fought so hard for its victory.
The team had gathered around Justine who lay on her back staring up at the quiet, dismal sky, the pupils of her eyes nearly completely covering up the irises. Conroy brushed aside Claudia and an insistent Patrick.
"Justine! Justine!" He snapped his thick fingers less than an inch from her eyes. There was no movement, no evidence of acknowledgement.
I'm so sorry, Sally Ann, I wanted to come back to you, I wanted to be with you for always. Please forgive me for being weak. I fought and I fought hard. You're so beautiful, I'm going to leave this place now, with the image of your face to comfort me on my journey to the heavens. I love you Sally Ann, I know I never told you that, but if you can hear me, I'm telling you now. I love you and I always will.
Suddenly, Justine's body bucked and convulsed as if fighting off an invisible beast, then she simply lay peacefully still as her eyes slowly closed. Patrick pushed Conroy away and pulled her limp body into his arms. The team gasped as a nostalgic smile peacefully passed across her face.
*****
The floor beneath Justine was hard and so unbelievably cold. There was an itchy blanket wrapped tightly around her and a warm hand placed over her own hand. It was like climbing through a wall of thick cob webs as Justine struggled to open her eyes, to reach out for the warmth that could she could feel was so very near. Her bones felt weighed down with enormous anchors. She slowly tossed her head to the side, fighting the thousand pound weights that seemed to hold her in place. With a determined effort she slowly slid her eyes open. The light was too bright, too real, the purest blue of a sunny, cloudless day.
"Sweetheart, are you with me?"
The sluggish recognition of Patrick's voice seeped into Justine's conscious. With a strain and fatigue that seemed to go beyond the eternal sleep of the dead, Justine opened her mouth to form thick, clumsy words.
"Patrick."
Justine’s vision was coming in clearer now and she could see him nodding anxiously.
"Yes, baby, it's me."
"Where am I?"
Patrick gasped and pulled her into his strong
arms.
"You're in the van, Justine. You fainted, or
something…" his voice trailed off with an agonizing
concern and uncertainty.
"But I don't faint. I have never fainted." Patrick
couldn't help but smile at the bemused, belligerent
look on her beautiful face.
"Well, today you did." He paused, his eyes taking
in every square inch of her face, happy to notice the
color slowly seeping back into it.
Justine tried to sit up but fell back down again,
reminded of the iron anchors holding her in place. "I feel like I've died, Patrick, I'm scared, so
scared. What happened?"
Lacking the word
s and information she needed to
hear, Patrick simply caressed her clammy forehead. "I love you, Justine. I know it's probably too
early to say that, but I do. When I saw you out there,
pale and stiff, I didn't know if I could breathe another
breath of my own." Justine's heart raced, she was so
confused and tired, and momentarily she wondered if
she was dead.
"Patrick," she said reaching for his hand, "I think
I am going to be sick."
Fighting back the tears that both frightened and
surprised him, he took her into his arms again and
rocked her in complete desperation, before finally her
voice snapped him out of the spell.
"Patrick, you're hurting me, you're holding me
too tight." Once again Justine’s voice reassured him
as he gently released her.
Conroy climbed into the back of the van, looking
haggard and concerned.
"She's reached consciousness. We have to get her
out of here, she may need medical attention," Patrick
said.
Conroy leaned forward looking down in concern
at Justine. His clumsy hand stroked her brow as he
looked into her emerald eyes which didn't seem to
hold their usual shine. Justine saw the complete look
of surprise as her small hand covered his and she
smiled weakly at him.
"No, I'm okay, I could use a Dr. Pepper though,
I'm so thirsty," she said, her voice trembling with her
attempt at humor.
The team, who was standing outside the van,
released their collective breath after what had seemed
liked hours of holding it because they knew that
Justine was going to be okay.
Chapter Eleven
Justine stood in front of the large window of her luxurious hotel room in Virginia Beach, staring out dismally at the falling rain. She was disappointed and angry at herself. Conroy had called off exploring Yorktown any further, explaining that they had already collected enough evidence. But Justine knew that tomorrow’s schedule had been changed due to her experience. She knew that her body had been used as a portal for another. While she felt sorrow for the soldier, she was frightened that he had so easily taken over her consciousness. She couldn't help but feel violated.
Justine knew that soon she would have to gather herself and dress for the night’s events. It was the annual Paranormal Convention and Parapsychologist Banquet, another reason they were in Virginia. She really wasn't sure what to expect, but she had bought a beautiful garnet gown for tonight's festivities.
In two hours, she knew that Patrick would be knocking on her hotel room door to escort her to the banquet. It wasn't something that was pre-arranged by the two of them, but something that came with the surety of being a couple.
Justine carefully stepped into the shimmering satin dress which clung to her proportionate curves and allowed a coy glimpse of her creamy cleavage. She studied herself critically in the mirror, wishing she had larger breasts and longer legs but deciding she would just have to enhance what she had been naturally born with.
Matching silver and onyx adorned her ears and thin, graceful neck. She had piled her soft brown hair high on her head, leaving down only a few whimsical curls to caress her neck and shoulders.
Is the dress too tight , she wondered, knowing that even if it was, she did not have time to change it now. She sighed, turning away from her mirror image, completely unaware of her prowess as a young beauty.
With the timing of the finest watch, Patrick knocked on her door. He gasped his thrilled amazement and sheer delight at the lovely creature that opened the door to him. How could a woman go from sneakers to heels in just a few hours and appear so stunning? Desire immediately began pumping through his veins causing him to pause, leaving his intentions less than honorable.
Justine stared back at Patrick feeling mutually intoxicated at his appearance. The black tuxedo complemented his long, athletic body perfectly, and mistakenly or not, his bow tie was a lovely burgundy which matched perfectly with Justine's dress.
Willfully breaking the silent gaze between them, Patrick extended his hand out to Justine to give her a beautiful white baby rose corsage. Feeling awkward Justine reached up to kiss him, wondering if she should have provided him with the matching white rose that elegantly graced his lapel.
Arm in arm, the two of them entered the already crowded banquet room, trailing down a stunning brass spiral stair case. Their appearance caused a stir, as one couldn't help but notice what a stunning couple they made. Justine, who never seemed to feel comfortable in her own skin at such elegant affairs unless she had a violin on her shoulder, forced herself not to fidget nervously but to hold her head high as Liz approached them, carrying with her enough self confidence for every woman in the room.
Liz wore a floor length, form fitting, black gown with laced sleeves. Her hair was pulled back into a simple pony tail, while her long curls of golden hair flowed down her back. It was a hairstyle that most women could not pull off in an evening gown, but somehow Liz did. Her lips were colored in bright red without a doubt the definition of classic American beauty. Justine imagined that she would still look wonderful with a bull whip in one hand and a half empty martini in the other.
"Patrick, Justine." Her blue eyes lingered seductively on Patrick, while she very easily ignored Justine.
"And how is our poor little baby tonight, you gave us all such a fright earlier." Although her eyes never left Patrick, the patronizing words attacked Justine viciously.
Putting up her back, Justine locked eyes with the casually cold Liz before Patrick had the chance to intervene.
"I'm quite fine, you're looking lovely as usual Liz," she replied with eyes of emerald steel, before guiding Patrick away and heading for the table assigned for Spectrum.
Justine didn't turn back to notice the red flush that rushed to Liz' cheeks. If she had, she would have felt the victory of rare intimidation. Justine was a woman who liked everyone, until given a reason to feel otherwise. After weeks of working with Liz, Justine realized that Liz left a distinctively bad taste in her mouth.
Claudia turned just in time to see Patrick and Justine enter the room. She rushed over to them, instantly clasping Justine's hands in her own. The older woman looked dashing wearing a flirty, yet simple white dress with her strawberry blonde hair swept back sleekly from her face cleverly showing off her well defined cheek bones.
"Justine, how are you, sweetie?" She looked Justine up and down with pale green eyes, her question sincere and concerned.
"I'm fine actually, Claudia, thank you for asking." Claudia gave her a warm hug, before drawing Patrick in for a warm, almost motherly hug. It was clear that Claudia had a special connection with Patrick.
"You, Patrick, look like a perfect nobleman!" Like a practiced mother, she shooed them into their seats. Once Justine was seated, Claudia leaned in to whisper in her ear.
"I'd like to talk to about something later." She squeezed Justine's shoulder before smiling and sitting down herself.
Conroy turned his attention toward Justine, critically staring at her, his eyes silently asking her if she was okay. She rewarded him a warm smile and a simple nod of her head. He stared at her for a moment longer as if having to decide for himself that she did, indeed, look healthy and well. He had practically insisted that Justine make a trip to the local
emergency room after her fainting spell, but Justine had stubbornly refused although she’d had a hard time convincing both Patrick and Conroy that she was fine.
The banquet was served buffet style with an endless arrangement of indulgent choices. Thinly sliced roast beef, herb roasted chicken, shrimp scampi over linguini pasta. Fresh vegetables and fruits were also served several different ways, along with breads and starch
es that made one drool just by looking at them.
Justine tried to remind herself that her eyes were bigger than her stomach, but piled the food on her plate anyway because she was feeling ravenous. The rich food and the chilled wine helped to quickly settle her nerves. The dinner was followed by decadent desert choices that included chocolate sponge cake with dark chocolate mousse, orange crème brulee with raspberries as well as her personal favorite, tiramisu. Justine smiled as she noticed (not for the first time,) Patrick's endless appetite.
Once the dishes were cleared away, the awards ceremony began. It was so well prepared that it all seemed to flow together effortlessly. There were 20 other parapsychologists teams from all over the U.S. who received many of the awards. Spectrum was honored with the highly coveted award of Most Positive Investigations and another for Most Professional Investigators which Conroy accepted for Team Spectrum graciously.
As the banquet started to break up, Justine excused herself to use the restroom. On the way back out, she nearly bumped into a man standing just outside the entrance to the bathroom--almost as if he had been waiting for someone. Before Justine could begin to apologize, he grabbed her hand, placing a small folded piece of paper into it and smiled at her leeringly. His eyes, greener than even her own, danced hungrily over her face.
"My apologies." His voice was warm and smoothly seductive. His hair was jet black shining under the faint lights of the lobby. Then he quickly walked away leaving Justine baffled. Without knowing what else to do, Justine quickly dropped the folded paper into her silver evening bag and attempted to appear calm and settled as she crossed back over to the table and to Patrick.
Patrick’s eyes lit up, again enchanted by the effortless beauty of her. Finally it was time for them to make their escape, something he had been looking forward to all evening. With a patience that took all of his will he escorted Justine back to her room and followed her in, closing the door behind him.
Journey of Souls (The Mortality Series) Page 9
