“Minute,” I tell Xane again, this time dragging the word out slowly and loudly the way my aunt always did when we were kids and driving her crazy.
“What does it do, Perseph?”
“It gets you your telepathy back,” she replies, lounging on the man cave couch. Bored. “Dagan, what’s with the different teams up here?” She rolls on her back, pointing at the walls.
Dagan looks on aghast, and a little bit violated.
“It’s really none of your—Persephone, is it?”
“Yup.”
“None of your biz.”
“Okay,” she replies, brightly popping off the couch and rejoining us in the interrogation room.
“It gets them back, Seph?” I say, hopefully holding the crown tightly.
“Yup,” she says, twirling her hair again.
“I just put it on?” I ask, still examining the weighty headwear.
“Yup, you just pop it on like this,” she drags the last word out while she demonstrates by manufacturing her own glowing lime tiara, “and viola, the voices are back.” She says this with the drama and flair of the Cheshire Cat. I think she’s chewing bubble gum now. I roll my eyes.
“Okay,” I turn back to Xane, putting the crown on my head. “This is probably gonna hurt a little.” Once on my head, the crown feels weightless. Thorns push into my head, though not unpleasant. More like pressure point therapy.
“So, what now?”
“You don’t hear anything?” Persephone asks from where she now lounges, a movie-theater recliner.
“Nope, Seph, just radio silence.”
“Hmm,” she says, now on the couch stomach-down, face cradled in hands looking upward thoughtfully. Her feet sway behind her head.
“Well, is there some password I need?”
“Nope. From what I know, your specific Onyx bloodline preordains access to the divine properties of certain holy relics instantaneously. No handbook required.”
“What’s with the lighthouse, Dagan?” She’s in the man cave again, still looking at the wall of artifacts. There’s a lighthouse near the top. I hadn’t noticed it before. I wonder why it has piqued her interest.
It’s a miniature replica of a white lighthouse at the end of a naturally made pier of rock. It juts into deep blue water, which I’ve seen in parts of the old northern United States and Canada. It was the deep, cold abyss of the rough and mean Atlantic Ocean, back when there was more than one ocean. I look away from the water that seems to be magically churning below the lighthouse.
“Seph, seriously. Task-at-hand,” I look over to Dagan. “Sorry, she gets distracted easily and likes to be nosy.”
“Nosy, like in how I found the alcove for you?” She asks now standing next to me, arms crossed, popping her bubblegum. I roll my eyes again. She knows better than to share that information with strangers.
“What alcove?” Dagan asks.
“Some old ancient one I was studying,” I spew the lie out quickly. “Persephone. Please tell me how this thing works,” I say, pointing to my new headpiece.
“Well,” she’s in the kitchen now sitting on the table, hugging her knees. She’s got a Blow Pop in her mouth. I know it’s cherry flavored, her favorite. She takes it out with an audible pop.
“The wearer has to be from the first Darken family’s ancestry. Which you are,” she says, pointing at me with her sucker. “Supposedly, it recognizes your bloodline and poof—you’ve got your friends back.” When she says ‘poof’ she splays her hands open and hologram-created pixie dust explodes from her fingertips.
“Well, that’s clearly not what’s happening here, Seph,” I say, exasperated.
“All right. Let me think.” She’s back in the interrogation room with us. “Xane, is it?” she asks, sitting on the edge of the table meeting his eyes.
“Uh, yes,” he replies with trepidation.
“There’s something familiar about you, Xane,” she drawls, appearing to search his soul. “I can’t pinpoint it, but I will.” With this, she mounts off the table and joins Dagan and I on the other side.
“Well, guys,” she says conspiratorially, making us three a tiny circle. She’s got her back to our ‘prisoner.’ She’s whispering loudly. Xane is three feet away.
“I think he knows more than he lets on,” she deduces.
“Thanks for the conclusive observation,” I say, frustration growing. “We already know this.” I look at Dagan for some back-up. His facial expression is clearly painted with, ‘You brought her to the party. She’s all yours.’
“Seph, can you and I talk a moment, privately?” I ask her, hoping if I get her undivided attention, we can make some progress. Yet, I’m also quite aware I never really have her undivided attention.
“Sure thing, boss.”
She’s already waiting for me in the man cave. I walk over, not possessing her magical hologram powers. Once in the area, I motion her over to the loveseat at the back of the room. We are out of the eyesight of the boys. Remember, this is a huge area down here. I climb up the massive chair, pull my knees up under my chin, and hug my legs.
“Can they hear us, Seph?”
“Nope,” she says, popping up next to me, also hugging her knees. “The acoustics in this area make it impossible. He designed it that way, but I’m not sure why. Hmm. I’ll find out, Lyvia.”
“Okay, Seph, but not right now,” I say sighing, although, I do really want her to get to the bottom of the entire Dagan mystery. One thing at a time.
“The crown…” She trails off while looking up at an imaginary sky.
“Yes, the crown,” I say, pointing at my head in an attempt to bring her back to the present.
“Okay, Lyvia,” she says, snapping to and staring into my eyes. “It is in fact the crown Jesus wore. It is a spiritual object. This means that it can cross all planes in its material form yet retaining its spiritual properties.”
“What.” An assertion. “All three of them?”
“Yup. Heaven, Earth, and Hell,” she replies, looking at Dagan’s walls. “What do you think is up with the—”
“Focus.” I cut her off.
“Okay. The three planes. Only someone who can cross over the three planes can use the object. So, Jesus, for example, because He is God. God passed down certain objects to specifically chosen families during ancient times. The initial Darken family bloodline just so happens to be one,” she says this while trying on hats in an imaginary mirror. She settles on a lime green winter hat complete with earflaps. Doesn’t even faze me. I’m used to her hologram shenanigans.
“Does that mean I can cross over the three planes?”
“Kind of, yes,” she replies. “The chosen ones can, anyway.”
“I’m chosen?” I ask. Not sure I possess the traits that God would choose me for.
“Your ancestors were given the relic. Only the chosen ones in your bloodline can use it on all three planes.”
“So, my family has had this since the beginning… And it has spiritual powers. What about the shoes, Seph?” I ask, pointing to my feet.
“Oh yes, the shoes.” She’s got the hat off now, her no-nonsense ponytail back. She lies stomach down, feet swaying behind her head again, her face propped up with one hand as she thoughtfully examines the shoes.
“Well, you probably already figured out that they are two of the Nails of the Cross, the ones used to pierce Jesus’ hands.”
“So, there’s a third?”
“Yes, but it’s elsewhere…” she trails off. Another mystery I can’t explore right now.
“How does it all work? I mean, the shoes just did it on their own. What can they do? Just open tombs?”
“Oh no,” she says, now trying on different footwear. Clover green ballet flats don her feet. “They do a lot more than that.” Now she’s got lime green, almost neon yellow socks on, with glowing green Birkenstocks.
“Like what?” I ask.
“Well, they can…” A voice in the other room cuts her off.
>
“Lyvia, anytime now. We gotta question the perp,” Dagan bellows. It’s so muffled I can barely hear it, but I still heard it. I look at Seph.
“This loveseat is inaudible. Protected by an invisible sound barrier. You can hear them, but not the other way around.”
“Okay, Seph. He’s right. We gotta get back. We can talk about all the rest of this stuff later. How does this thing work?” I say, again pointing to the crown.
“Lyvia, it’s supposed to just work,” she replies, clearly perplexed.
“Oh God, I could really use your help right now,” I say, reaching up to the sky-high ceiling, a plea to the heavens. “And I really miss you, Shane,” I add quietly.
Hanging my head, I turn toward the man cave entryway. Suddenly, I feel a prick on my head, not painful, but unpleasant.
“What the…” I put my hand up to the crown. The thorns begin to push into my skull; not piercing the skin but feeling as if they might. The pricks become more intense. I start to think I’m bleeding. I get a decapitating headache and fall to my knees.
“You got it, Lyvia,” Persephone exclaims, hopping and clapping.
I don’t hear or see her though. I have both hands on my head. I feel warm sticky wetness. I squint my eyes open and see red crimson on my fingertips. The pain is blinding. I feel as if my head might explode. I start to take the crown off, anything to stop the pain, but then it subsides as quick as it came.
“Whoa,” I say, standing up. The blood is gone.
“You hear em, yet, Lyvia?” Persephone asks, inquisitively searching my face.
“No,” I answer, frustrated I may have gone through excruciating pain for nothing.
“Not yet,” she replies knowingly.
“Guys,” Dagan’s voice.
“Coming,” I say, my voice becoming audible as I cross to the interrogation room.
Xane and Dagan sit across from each other. Xane looks bored. Dagan looks borderline homicidal.
“You get it to work? This guy is driving me nuts,” he says.
“Who? Me?” Xane asks innocently. “I’d say you just heard a pretty interesting story—free of charge, I might add.”
“Oh, story time!” Persephone exclaims, taking my unoccupied seat across from Xane. She steeples her hands under her face expectantly.
“Well, so this one time, my buddies and I decide to go out to the lake. Good ole’ Georgie has to go to the bathroom, which was more like one of those old-ass outhouses, and there’s this bee in there, it goes right up his shorts and he runs—”
“Dude. I really don’t wanna hear this story again,” Dagan says, leaning back in his chair, looking bored. Persephone and I whip our heads around to venomously stare at our rude interjector. Then, we return our gaze to Xane.
“Did he get stung?” an enraptured Persephone asks from her seat.
“Well, he came running out with his shorts around his ankles and a look of panic on his face,” Xane shakes his head, laughing. “He didn’t get stung. But, he did miss the toilet because of the whole thing and sprinted to the lake, jumping in to wash the piss off.” Xane laughs as if that was the funniest story he’s ever told.
Persephone joins in. “So, you guys are just standing there watching the scene play out—an invisible terror.” She is cracking up. Dagan and I are not amused.
“It was even worse the first time,” Dagan states, deadpan.
I stand there plotting my next action. I can’t hear anybody, but that doesn’t mean much. I’ve got to try. I figure if I add my theatrical flair, it may help this time. Fingers crossed.
From the top…
“This may…”
“Hurt a little,” Xane and Dagan finish simultaneously, complete with eye rolls.
It doesn’t affect my performance.
“…hurt a little.”
I thrust my hands to his head and push his temples together. Nothing.
I sigh leaving my hands in place. I look up and silently pray for something to happen. Nothing. About to give up, I start to remove my hands.
“OW!” Xane wails.
A rushing light fills my senses. I see only white. A loud whooshing blocks out all sound. A stream of pictures replaces the light. I know what this is. The telepathy has returned.
I see Georgie sprinting to the lake as if he’s on fire. The water is glittering in the sunlight. I’m looking through Xane’s eyes. He’s laughing. The next image he’s younger, sitting on the couch watching The Ten Commandments. He’s mad. I think he’s in a time-out. His mother sits next to him, enjoying the film.
Now, he’s older than he was at the lake. I recognize the setting—Gold Shire Coliseum. He looks down at his right arm. He’s being marked with the Golden signal. He’s nervous and apprehensive but follows through and gets marked.
A little older, but not much, he sits on a bed. It’s a bunk room, where the younger Lighters have to start their resource training. He’s reading a book on the Framework. He’s bored out of his mind. It’s torture. He’s wishing he transferred shires. Ruby or Mortal, he thinks wistfully. But then, around the same age, he's sitting across from a beautiful girl... Through his eyes, she’s lit from behind angelically. He’s nervous. So is she.
Now some time later, but again not much, I see from Xane’s eyes—him. It’s Levi. Front and center, he’s putting on his show back in Gold Coliseum. I see only Lighters at this performance. He’s got his guitar and is playing something I haven’t heard before. And, I’ve heard a lot of his stuff. I mentally shake my head at my previous stupidity.
“Okay, everybody. Now that we’re all together, I need to go over some things,” he says, putting his guitar away.
Levi is wearing his typical ‘uniform.’ He’s a rock star. Slim jeans, white t-shirt, bowler-style tennis shoes, and a fitted leather jacket completes the ensemble. He’s six feet tall and well-built. He’s got medium-length, wavy hair tucked behind his ears, and a well-groomed beard. With his thick brown hair and ice blue eyes, he resembles classic actor Travis Fimmel. Gorgeous rocker. I mentally roll my eyes. This guy.
“I know you’re all excited…” he trails off, going to sit on his stool, center stage. He perches on the stool; one leg carelessly rests on its lowest rung. One elbow carelessly rests on a thigh. He’s so at ease. It’s his element.
The crowd is sitting restless and eager. I can see girls about to swoon. I want to gag and tell them he’s really not all that.
Xane is different though. Despite the Lighter girl he met, he’s still uneasy in his new home. He has trepidation and worry. I need to know where this is coming from. Either he’s just smart and knows some of what I know, or he knows more than me. Hopefully, the scene will continue to enlighten. I’m getting mentally drained from my new device.
Levi surveys the audience. He looks up at the ceiling. He loves drama and loves teasing even more. He revels in his moments of silent suspense.
“Those of you Inner-circle, you know your role. I assume you all know it by now, Inner, Middle, and Outer. Inside and out. If not, please find your counselors to get all the information. You know how big this is. It’s our Great Reveal,” he says the last two words spreading his hands outwardly as a magician about to perform the most impossible trick known to man. Which, knowing Levi, might actually be.
The crowd awes at his hand gesture. Again, I want to puke.
“I expect all of you have your directions memorized. This is incredibly important.” He stands up and looks into the crowd. He spots him.
“Xane.”
Xane jolts back in his seat. He did not expect to get called out. I’m wondering why the hell he did. What does he know? With my telepathy, I can’t read exact thoughts, unless it’s in real time. When I recede into memories, I take on the receiver’s senses and emotions, not necessarily thoughts or previous knowledge. In addition to being inside Xane’s head, I can also occupy space outside of him within the memories, similar to an invisible hologram. I’m sitting in the empty seat next to him. Levi look
s at the seat, and I swear his eyes meet mine. Impossible. Memories cannot be changed. I’m invisible. He should have absolutely no clue that I’m present. I get a chill.
His eyes shift to Xane, “Did you finish the book?”
“Uh, yeah,” he replies. I can feel guilt at his deception.
“Oh, Xane. Xane, Xane,” Levi drawls out. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, dude. Ya can’t fool me.”
Xane is in disbelief. And a little scared.
“So, what I’m gonna do is promote you to Middle-circle status. Then Willow will be able to help you out,” he says with a wink.
Xane looks at Willow across the room. It’s the girl from the earlier memory. She’s still lit from behind. Willow smiles shyly.
“Okay everybody,” Levi calls with a handclap. “We’ve got one week. Seven days to make it great.” He walks over to his guitar, picks it up so naturally you’d think he was born with one in hand. A few opening licks and I’m transported to the present.
The crown releases its pressure. I open my eyes to find Xane passed out. That happens sometimes. It was a mental roller coaster for him.
“Whoa,” Dagan says, stunned. “Is he gonna be okay?”
I don’t respond right away. I’m trying to distill my new information. The crown shrinks back down to a barrette. I secure it in my hair.
“Oh, him?” I point to Xane. “He’ll be fine. Some water and an aspirin when he comes to. He’s gotta man up.”
“What’d ya see?” Persephone asks excitedly.
“Enough to know Xane’s got some questions to answer when he’s finished with his beauty sleep.”
“That’s good and all, but how will it help us?” Dagan asks.
“Yeah, how will it?” Persephone chimes in antsy, next to Dagan.
I look at my audience. All two members eagerly waiting for me to give the big answer. Jeez, I’ve got nothin’.
“I didn’t get much, but Xane is more important than we thought. Levi personally singled him out of the crowd and asked if he read ‘the book.’ Which initially, I assumed was the book of Framework, but now I’m not so sure.”
“You saw Levi?” Persephone asks, concerned. She’s more than a little aware of my history with him.
“Yes, he was putting on one of his ‘shows,’” I say, rolling my eyes.
I Am the Storm Page 7
