Journey of Souls (The Mortality Series)

by Melanie S. Pronia

  The laugh that rushed out of Claudia was nearly as startling to Justine as the somber tone had been.

  "Justine, I like you. Please relax."

  Justine unfolded her arms and forced herself to appear casual and not sit on the edge of her seat. She breathed in slowly.

  A blonde god of a waiter appeared to take their drink orders. Knowing that coffee would not only bolster her courage but awaken her brain as well, Justine ordered a whole carafe.

  The two women wistfully watched the buff waiter depart, both of them arrowing in on his posterior that looked like it had been sculpted by the gods themselves. Once he was out of site, Claudia quickly leaned in, placing her warm palm on top of Justine's hand.

  "I spoke with Liz late last night. How is Patrick? For that matter, how are you?" Claudia's luminous green eyes sparkled with genuine concern as well as curiosity. Feeling tongue tied, Justine fought for simple words.

  "He or we are fine," she managed to stumble out.

  "Good, I'm glad. Liz feels like an ass, and so she should!" Claudia's words seemed to vibrate with the ups and downs of a roller coaster.

  "I didn't know, Claudia, I had no idea, about her and Patrick, I mean." Justine paused when the waiter approached with the steaming coffee. After taking her first sip, she responded.

  "Well, at least now, I know why she hates me." The bitter laugh that emitted from her own throat surprised Justine, and she quickly sipped more coffee realizing how tired she was.

  "Oh, Liz doesn't hate you. She does hate Patrick, though. But then again, they say there is such a thin line between love and hate." The words tumbled easily out of Claudia’s mouth while Justine stared at her dumbfounded.

  "But, honestly Justine, you're better for Patrick. I love Liz, I do, I don't always like her or understand her motives, but over the years she's sort of become like a daughter to me." Claudia took a healthy sip of her coffee. "But I'm not here to talk about Patrick or Liz, I'm here to talk about, well, me and you."

  "Me and you?" Justine’s voice sounded as bewildered as her question she was sure.

  "Well, yes, but not like that." Claudia laughed, patting Justine's hand again.

  The waiter returned again, clearing his throat before smiling deliciously at Justine. The two women gave their orders and waited anxiously for the gorgeous blonde waiter to move on.

  "What I mean, Justine, is your gift, your vision, the sight or sixth sense as some people call it. Call it what you will, it can be both a blessing and a curse. I know and understand this, because I have the same gift. I'd like to help you understand it and use it when needed, discard it when it becomes too much."

  Claudia paused, watching Justine's reaction.

  "Justine, don’t look as if you don't know what I'm talking about. Since your employment with Spectrum, your gift has been noticed, although I'm sure you've known about it for much longer than that. Since you were a child would be my guess.

  Justine thought about how to word her response.

  "Well, yes, I've been aware of it for quite some time, but lately it's like it's become huge and, well, at times like yesterday at Yorktown, unmanageable."

  "First things first”, Claudia said with finality. “The more you use it, the stronger it becomes. That's just the simple laws of nature and energy. You may not even intentionally use it but say, for instance, when doing an investigation, you may instantly 'turn it on' without even being aware of it. It's as natural to you as breathing.” Justine stared at Claudia, finally feeling like at last there was someone who

  understood!

  "Then, Justine, there are a few rules to follow with it.” Claudia continued, “Firstly, try to never use it in matters of the heart. I'm not speaking of the love you have for your parents, or friends. I'm speaking of the love you have for Patrick, or well any others who may come your way. And if you do use it in love, be prepared to be hurt. Love in all its facets is not always a beautifully wrapped present to hold. It can be negative and hurtful to know each and every thought your lover has. It's also unfair to them and rather unethical. Everyone deserves the right to free thinking. There is a boundary you should never cross, for your sake as well as the one you love."

  The tempting aroma of the food sitting between them wafted on the summer air ignored, as the two women sat face to face, eyes locked in serious communication. Justine’s gaze switched to the sunsparkled ocean waves while absorbing Claudia's words carefully. Claudia reached over and covered her hand softly again.

  "Justine, I know it's hard, and a lot of it doesn't make sense—yet. But it will. Patrick is precognitive, for lack of a better word. A seer of the future, but he's not empathic like you are. Patrick could very well see the future of your relationship if he wanted to. Hopefully he has stronger ethics than that. There is a very strong, special magick between the two of you. Try to hold onto that, but understand like in all great loves, there will be trials." Claudia laughed when she saw the spooked look on Justine's face.

  "I know, Justine, you're not totally sure if you love him yet, I know the answer to that, but I'm not going to tell you, you're going to have to figure that one out on your own."

  Claudia finally sampled a bite of her eggs and smiled happily out in the warm air. Somehow, her bright energy always seemed to amaze Justine. There was something mystical, powerful about the woman that Justine couldn't seem to put her finger on, but knew existed and deeply admired.

  Justine nervously took a sip of her coffee, the appearance of the wonderful food twisting knots in her stomach.

  "There is another thing we should discuss, well, many actually, but this one is the most prominent at the moment," Claudia paused sipping some freshly squeezed orange juice.

  "Conroy," she said simply.

  "Conroy?" Justine asked, surprised.

  "Oh yeah. I love Conroy Justine, in ways that he doesn't even realize. However, being that he is both a businessman and a scientist, there are a few things you need to be warned about. He will use your gift to suit the needs of Spectrum, not always keeping it in the best interest of you. He knows your gift, a man with his knowledge and experience in this field would have to be blind not to."

  "But Conroy wouldn't.." Justine finally

  interrupted.

  "Yes, he would Justine. He has, with me. I'm getting old, I don't take the risks I did when I was younger." She paused, her face serious with gravity. "If you ever feel placed in a position by Conroy, 'for the better of Spectrum' as he'll tell you, that you don't feel comfortable with, don't do it. Do not let him exploit you, because he will if you let him." Claudia, quickly glanced at her watch, and stood to go. Justine stood up too, her meal still left untouched.

  "Justine, there are many more things we should discuss, but now is neither the time nor place. When we get back home after the conference, I want to take you somewhere safe and teach you how to use your gift, to shut and open it on whim. If you ever need to talk, please feel that you can come to me."

  Claudia hastily dropped some money on the table, barely glancing at its amount, before she leaned in and held Justine tight. It was a hug Justine hadn't realized that she needed so much.

  "Thank you," she said, before Claudia turned to walk away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  On the way back to her room, Justine thought of stopping by Patrick's first to check in on him, but decided that he would have to deal with his own hangover in the best way that suited him.

  She quickly entered her room, needing a few moments alone with just her thoughts for company. However, the phone rang before she was granted that wish.

  "Hey, baby," Patrick's tired voice came on the line. "I'm sorry about last night, I hope I didn't make too much of an ass of myself." Justine smiled warmly, remembering how good it had felt to hold him all night, but decided not to completely let him off the hook.

  "No, Patrick, well, not too bad anyway. How do you feel today?"

  He chuckled lowly before replying. "Like I was attacked by a hungry pack of wo
lves last night, who decided I was too pickled to eat and instead bashed my head in."

  "I bet." She couldn't help but chuckle at the image he described.

  "Hey, I'd take you to breakfast, but I don’t think that my stomach could handle it."

  "That's okay hon, I had breakfast with Claudia already." When she didn't hear an immediate response from him, she waited to see how he would digest those words. Finally, Patrick responded,

  "Well, that's nice, she sure loves to talk. Tell you any interesting gossip about me?" There was the tiniest hint of nervousness in his voice.

  "Nothing major." Justine knew that there was a lot that needed to be said between her and Patrick, but she was not going to unhash it on the phone.

  "Can I come up and see you?"

  "Of course, we have the luncheon at one o'clock, but I was thinking maybe we could go do some exploring for a few hours before it," Justine answered.

  "Okay, sounds good. Besides, I could use the fresh air. I'll be up in a few minutes, babe." The soft click on the other end of the line let Justine know that he had hung up the phone. She dressed in blue jean shorts and a comfortable red t-shirt before pulling her hair up into a tidy pony tail. She was putting on large loop earrings that reminded of her of a wise gypsy woman when there was a knock at her door.

  Smiling, Justine flung the door open, ready to attack Patrick with hugs and kisses that would either help rid his hangover or make it worse, she thought deviously. The eyes that stared back at her were not Patrick's, however. These eyes held a predatory look of desire and intimidation.

  Before she could get a word out, he invited himself in, walking right past her into her room.

  "Hello, Witch."

  "I didn't invite you in." Her voice was firm, covering up her racing heart as fear spread out through her limbs.

  "Yes, you did. When you opened the door to me, you invited me in." He turned to her, his eyes so green with his pitch black hair that an uncertain evil seemed to linger under his pale skin. Justine had never realized that evil could look so beautiful.

  "You need to leave now, and leave me alone. I am not a witch, nor am I interested in anything you have to say."

  His mouth opened up wide for a large laugh that seemed out of place for the moment. He stepped closer to Justine, her first instinct was to step back, but she forced herself to hold her ground.

  "Ah, you are indeed a strong little witch. I am impressed, as you should be."

  "I believe I told you to leave."

  "Yes, you did, but I've only just arrived." Justine chanced a moment to take her eyes off of him and glanced at the phone which suddenly seemed like it was miles away.

  "Ah, the phone, modern technology. You must be taught the old ways, young witch. Learn to use your own defenses."

  "I've told you that I am not a witch, I am a Parapsychologist. I study the unexplained and the freaks." She stared at him pointedly.

  "My darling, if I am a freak, then so are you." He inched a step closer to her.

  The fear raced through Justine's body in icy cold tremors. Suddenly she realized she was sick of always being so afraid. She raised an arm up to him, one that shook no longer from fear but from anger. Her arm quivered and the skin seemed to pulsate, bubbling up on her arm. There was no pain. Just pure, punching anger. She pointed her finger at the man, putting all of her wrath into that one simple pointed finger. When her arm started to burn Justine took her eyes off of him and looked at it, he leaped towards her, taking advantage of the moment, trying to shove away her arm, confirming to her that it was, indeed, a weapon.

  With a thrilling boldness that she had never felt before, Justine shoved her finger at the man’s chest. A blue light with the intensity and liveliness of electricity shot out of her arm, into his chest. He stumbled backwards crashing against the door he had closed, gripping painfully at his chest. His green eyes seemed to be spewing endless vile thoughts of venom.

  Justine dropped her arm as waves of cold sweat ran over her body, feeling justified knowing that her opponent was against the door, breathing raggedly.

  "You stupid bitch!" he gasped, standing up straight again, apparently unharmed. "That would have killed a lesser witch."

  All of her previous bravado of mere moments passed had left her as suddenly as it had come. He turned to the door, his hand resting on the knob and looked at her again.

  "You are not ready yet, love. But you will be." With those words, he opened the door and was gone.

  Patrick saw the door open before he could knock and the strange man casually skirted around him to exit Justine's room. When he stepped into her room, Justine charged him, hysterical with fear and anger. He was barely able to pull her off of him.

  "Justine!" Patrick's voice finally penetrated her mind as she backed off and sunk onto the edge of the bed.

  "Oh, god, I'm sorry, Patrick. Are you okay? I thought you were…" She didn't know how to describe the beast that had come to her room.

  "What that hell? Who was he? What did he do to you?" Patrick started to go to the door, intending to chase the man down when Justine's soft voice reached him.

  "I hurt him without even touching him." Patrick stood still, the strange agony of Justine's voice splitting him between giving chase to her assailant and staying to tend to her. His head throbbed and pounded with a persistence the aspirin wouldn't seem to chase away.

  "Are you okay?" He approached her slowly and gathered her into his arms, tenderly kissing her hair and forehead.

  "Yes." She leaned over far enough to grab the note that still lay on her bed side table, and placed it in his lap. Not wanting to let go of her, Patrick grabbed the note with one hand and kept his other arm tightly around her. He quickly read the note and glanced into Justine's eyes.

  "What is this?"

  "I don't know, he gave it to me last night at the banquet when I went to the bathroom, he bumped into me and put it into my hand."

  An unaccustomed mixture of jealousy, fear, and anger surged through Patrick's veins as he jumped up, separating himself for her.

  "Did you go see him last night?" His pointed words shook the fear right out of Justine.

  "When, Patrick? When I was watching your old girlfriend storm into my room, or when I was with you, worried about how bad your hangover would be?" She pushed him away from her and stood up to pace around the small room. "Oh yes, Patrick, I went to that… that freak’s room and screwed him all night!" Her eyes had become nearly as green and vicious as her visitors as they stormed onto Patrick's face.

  "Justine! Damn it!" Patrick put his face into his hands and roughly brushed back his hair in frustration. "I didn't mean it like that." Or did he? They both knew that maybe it wasn't exactly what he had been asking, but there was a small gnat of worry and doubt flying around in between them.

  "No, Patrick, I forgot about the note until after you had left my room. I read it. I got dressed intending to confront Liz, then I went to your room." Patrick leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. He stared around her room deep in thought, when his eyes arrowed in on the rose that Justine had decided to throw away but hadn't had the time to yet. But that wasn’t exactly true either, she hadn't made the time yet. Patrick walked over to the table and snatched it up.

  "Did he send this to you? Because I know I didn't." As if in slow motion Justine, saw him open the note card, and she knew that the simple words there would further exasperate the current situation.

  "So you did go to his room? You just decided not to knock? How come? It might have been fun." His words were vile, filled with accusation and a total lack of trust. It was now Patrick's turn to pace. Suddenly he spun back towards her.

  "Wait, you went and confronted Liz? Oh shit, Justine! Why didn't you tell me?"

  "No. Damn it Patrick, if you'd just sit down and shut up for a minute, I could tell you everything that happened."

  "Okay, fine," he reluctantly acquiesced with his large hands splayed in the air, belying an
<
br />   unwillingness to believe her.

  All of Justine's energy seemed to have left her through her arm, so she quietly picked up the phone and ordered another carafe of coffee to be delivered by room service. She slumped down on the bed next to Patrick, and she relayed the previous night's events and the recent morning's events in exact detail, only pausing when the coffee arrived. Patrick, quietly and patiently, had listened to her entire story, at times his eyes growing wide in surprise, other times his face growing red with anger. When Justine was finally finished, Patrick stood up again.

  "So you thought I was in there screwing Liz even after what she did to me and you last night? Gee, thanks for all your faith and trust, Justine."

  With her eyes steady and her voice calm, Justine replied, "Look at it from my point of view Patrick."

  "You're right, I'm sorry." Patrick knelt in front of Justine, torn between frustration and love, when he took her hands into his own.

  "Do you love me, Justine?" The passionate blue of his eyes burned a jagged hole into Justine's heart.

  "Yes." She looked down at their joined hands.

  "Then tell me, tell me you love me."

  "I can't."

  "If it's the truth, you can."

  "I don't know how."

  "It's simple, here I'll do it first, I love you Justine." He waited, then grabbed her chin and looked deeply into her eyes.

  "It's there, Justine, I can see it, so why can't you say the words?"

  "Because I'm scared!" Patrick stood up slowly putting his back to her.

  "Alright, fine. You'll tell me sooner or later when you’re ready. But please gods, for my sake, make it sooner than later." His words took more will then Justine would ever realize. Patrick, whom had always felt confident, was finding himself in uncharted territory with his immense feelings for Justine.

  She stood up to hug him, hold him near. She placed her head against his chest where she could feel the beating of his heart which seemed to calm her. Patrick rubbed his hand over her hair and returned the hug as fervently as she gave it to him.