by Ciana Stone
Then through the sound she heard someone calling out her name. Only it wasn’t her name. Or was it? Maybe her name was different in this place wherever it was. She opened her eyes.
“Cord?” He was suddenly there beside her and she filled with joy at the sight of him.
He smiled gently and stroked her face tenderly. She closed her eyes again. "Why did you leave me? I loved you so much and you promised to love me forever."
"And I will," he answered in Victor's voice.
Her eyes flew open. In an instant the gentle mist coalesced into huge angry thunderheads all around them. Lightning flashed like the tongues of mammoth serpents coiled within the dark clouds and the wind whipped around them like a tempest.
"Victor?" she cried into the wind. She saw Victor standing beside her but looked around frantically trying to find Cord. He had vanished.
"You wished for someone who would love you throughout eternity," Victor told her, framing her face with his hands and turning her to look at him. "That someone is me. Since time began, I've loved you. Until time ceases, I will love you. I'm the one you chose. I'm your destiny."
His words lured as his eyes bewitched her. Falling into the spell of his stare, she was drawn to him. Yet something made her hold back. "I'm afraid."
"Your fear stems from the past," he beguiled her mind, "in what the other made you suffer. There is no longer any need for fear, no need to hold back. Let go, Morgan. I have come for you. It was your wish."
She started toward him again then once more stopped as uncertainty flooded through her. "I don't know. I'm not sure."
His eyes glowed with an inner fire that beckoned to her like the welcome sight of a lighthouse to a ship lost in a violent storm. "You want me, Morgan, his voice pulled her closer. "In your heart you know it is true. Just let go," he urged. "It's so easy."
"Yes," she whispered, lulled by his words. "But what must I do?"
"Speak the words," he tempted in a seductive whisper.
"The words?" she did not understand.
"I love you," he said, "Say it. I love you. For all eternity, I am yours.'"
"I love you," she replied as if in a trance. " For all eternity, you are mine."
Victor heard the words she mumbled in her sleep. She'd not recited the words verbatim, but it was of no consequence. She was his.
He smiled and shook her gently. "Morgan?"
Her eyes opened, and she looked up into his eyes. "I was having the strangest dream."
He smiled and pulled her to him.
*****
Cord rode the bike around to the back of the house and parked. Only one kind of man comes to your back door at night and that's a friend. But Cord knew Slats would shit when he saw him standing there, especially with white hair.
As it turned out, Cord was surprised. Just when he got off the bike, the back door opened, and light spilled out into the dark. "Yo, Cord, my man," Slats greeted him as if nothing had changed. "What you be doin, man?"
An easy feeling washed over Cord like a heavy weight had suddenly been lifted.
"Come on in the house, mhn," Slats waved him in. "I was ‘bout to fire a bowl."
Cord smiled and followed Slats inside. The interior of the house was as casual and relaxed as the man who lived there. Brightly colored hand-woven tapestries hung on the walls, along with posters of various famous reggae musicians.
The sounds of reggae music came from the stereo and the sweet smell of vanilla incense mixed with the heavier odor of pot.
Slats sat down in a chair beside the couch and fired up the pipe. He passed it over to Cord as he sat in a chair next to Slats. Cord took a long slow draw from the pipe and handed it back. He exhaled and looked over at Slats. "This stuff's illegal."
"Yah, man," Slats smiled. "Good, too." They both laughed. Slats got up and went into the kitchen. He returned with two beers. He handed one to Cord, sat and took a long drink.
"How's your life so far, man?" he asked, his dark eyes twinkling in the low light.
Cord felt the combination of the smoke and the beer; a mellow feeling that crept up on him. "It's some kind of ride, Slats. Six months ago, I was in one game, playing along as a businessman, ranch owner and super geek. And the next day, I'm some ancient warrior in a whole other game."
Slats fired up the pipe again and took another drag then passed it to Cord. But Cord didn't even look up. He was out like a light.
*****
Victor walked into the den and closed the door. "Has everything been taken care of?" he asked as he poured himself a glass of sherry.
"As you directed," Juro answered.
Victor swirled the liquid in the glass then looked over at Juro. "It is imperative that nothing be traceable to its source."
"That would not be possible," Juro responded.
"Excellent." Victor sat down in a leather chair in front of the fireplace and stared into the flames. "Soon, Juro, soon we shall see our efforts culminate in glorious success."
Juro sat in the matching chair across from Victor. "Then you have achieved all that you have aspired to."
"Not quite," Victor's face darkened. "As yet I have been unsuccessful in convincing Morgan to set a date for our marriage."
"Have you not the ability to force her?" Juro's voice was slightly taunting.
Victor scowled and rose from his seat. "Do you not understand? I want her to come to me of her own accord, to surrender of her own will. Then, and only then, will she belong to me completely!"
"Perhaps it is not meant to be. Is it possible you were mistaken? Perhaps she is not the one."
Victor paced back and forth in front of the fire like a caged animal. "You know better. Do you think for an instant that I would not recognize her? That I would not know her the moment I first saw her?"
He shook his head. "No, she is the one."
"Then what will you do? If you will not force her and she cannot be encouraged, what will it take?"
Victor stopped and considered the question carefully. "Perhaps only a little more time."
*****
Cord woke and rolled his head, trying to ease the stiffness in his neck. The smell of coffee made him rise from the sofa and walk into the kitchen. "I appreciate you letting me crash here last night," he said to Slats who stood in front of the open refrigerator.
"No problem, man," Slats replied cheerfully, gathering up eggs from a bowl. "You want breakfast?"
"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks." Cord poured himself a cup of coffee, sat down at the kitchen table and watched as Slats prepared the food.
"I didn't just come here to crash, though," Cord admitted, "I need your help, Slats."
Slats turned from the stove with a smile. "Sure, anything, you just ask."
Cord regarded him for a moment. "I need information on a man named Victor Vinsetti."
Slats turned around so fast that his long braids flew out all around him like a black halo. "Oh, man," He shook his head and his accent grew so thick he was hard to understand. "Dat very bad juju!"
The response surprised Cord as he watched his friend make the sign of protection against evil. "Yeah? What do you know about him?"
Slats turned away, "Just rumors, you know."
"Well, that's more than I know."
Slats finished the eggs, picked up the frying pan and dished the eggs out onto two plates. He added two muffins to each plate, placed one plate in front of Cord and took a seat across the table with his own.
Slats looked down at his plate, shook his head then looked up. His dark eyes were troubled. "Word has it that he is thee devil himself. He not one to fool with, my friend."
"Why's that?"
"He come from the Vinsetti family in Sicily, you know. It is said that he is the bastard son of the old man's daughter and that he murdered the old man for the family fortune."
"Well, what's he doing here?" Cord asked.
"That, I can't say," Slats shrugged and picked up his fork.
Cord took a bite of muf
fin and chewed in silence for a moment. "Is the AI working?"
Slats grinned. "Better than ever. Now you eat your food before it gets cold"
Washington, D.C.
"Are you excited?" Victor asked as they entered the house.
Morgan smiled up at him. "Yes, I can't wait to see them!"
"I know how disappointed you were they didn’t want to spend the holidays with us," he commented, reminding her how lonely Christmas was without Cable and Trevor with her. But she understood how difficult this Christmas would be, the first since Cord left.
She pushed the sad thoughts aside. At least they were coming to visit now. Cable had a couple of days off and didn’t have to be back until New Year's Eve for some big party at school. So, they would have a few days together.
"Can you believe it's almost a new year?" she asked. "Autumn seemed to just fly by. And I really enjoyed spending Christmas in Italy at your family's estate. It was perfect. Thank you."
"It was my pleasure," he took her hand and led her into one of the smaller sitting rooms. "And you're right, it was perfect." He stopped and a sad expression crossed his face. "At least almost," he corrected himself in a voice so low she had to strain to hear.
"Why do you say that?" she kicked off her shoes and sat on the thick rug in front of the fire. "Your estate was decorated like a scene from the Nutcracker and getting to see the ballet was a special treat for me. How could it have been any better?"
Victor looked down at the fire with his hands shoved deep into his pants pockets. "I'd hoped to take you to my ancestral home as my wife," he said. "To introduce you to everyone as the new mistress of the Vinsetti empire."
Morgan jumped up and faced him, "Victor, please, let's not–"
He cut off the rest of her words, cupping her face in his hands. "Morgan, do you not know how much I love you? Have you no idea how much I want us to be married, to be joined as one?"
She looked up at him, putting her hands on his wrists and pushing his hands away. "Please," she appealed. "Let's not talk about this now. I told you before, Victor. We will be married, sometime. I don't see why there's such a big rush. We're together, aren't we? And we love each other. Does a piece of paper really make that much difference?"
He turned away from her and looked into the fire. "Yes. It does. I want to be your husband, Morgan. Not your boyfriend, your fiancé, or your lover. Your husband!"
Morgan sighed and her shoulders drooped. She walked around behind him and wound her arms around him. "Please be patient," she whispered, placing the side of her face against his back. "Just a little longer."
If he'd been facing her, she would've seen the look of rage stamped on it. No matter what he tried it seemed he couldn't break through the wall of resistance she had on this matter. His patience had reached its limit.
Fighting to push back the red flood of fury that threatened to overtake him, he continued to stare into the fire until he had control of himself. He knew anger wouldn't serve him in convincing her. That would only drive her away and he wasn't about to take that risk. No matter what, he couldn't lose her.
"All right," he turned around and hugged her to him. "I'll try–but it isn't easy."
She relaxed in his arms. "Thank you," she whispered and pulled his face down to hers. "I love you," she looked into his eyes then kissed him tenderly.
His arms tightened around her and the kiss became fervent and impassioned. His desire for her exploded, making him hot with need. The extent of his need surprised him. He'd thought over the course of time, the intensity would fade, become more manageable.
But instead it'd grown stronger, more uncontrollable. He felt as if she possessed him in some strange way. The feeling was new to him, and a more than a little uncomfortable.
I must have you, Morgan, he said to himself, caught up in his own thoughts and desires. You must be mine.
Morgan pulled away and searched his eyes, then sank to the floor and pulled him down with her.
Cotton Creek
Cord sat in front of the computer. "You know as soon as I call the information services the calls will be traceable back to here." He looked up at Slat, who stood behind him.
"No problem, mahn," Slats grinned. "I don't have a phone."
“Cable?”
“Nope.”
Cord stared at Slats with his mouth hanging open. "How am I supposed to get hooked up to the outside world without access?"
"IOS, mahn," Slats replied off handedly.
"Internet over satellite?" Cord asked unbelievingly. "You're telling me you have an IOS link?"
"Sure, mahn," Slats shrugged, "a, um, let's call it a shadow link."
Cord just smiled and shook his head as he turned back to the computer. He picked up the control glove, attached it to his right hand. Each finger of the glove had an individual sleeve. The sleeves attached to a single piece that covered the back of the hand, leaving the palm uncovered. The glove connected wirelessly to the AI unit.
Next, he picked up a pair of glasses. They looked like a pair of sport sunglasses but behaved as a monitor or view screen.
Cord looked out on a beautiful beach covered in white sand. The sea was emerald green with lazy white-capped waves rolling gently onto the shore. A sky of crystal blue dotted by nebulous, fluffy white clouds met the emerald water in the far horizon while seagulls drifted by on the lazy breeze.
A slim-hipped native girl appeared in the middle of the scene. Her long black hair flowed in a lustrous wave across her shoulders to below her waist, obscuring the naked round breasts that stood high and full on her chest.
Dressed only in a strip of brightly colored material tied around her hips in a sarong-like fashion to expose one hip and leg, she presented quite an enticing picture.
"Hi, Slats," her voice was seductive and sultry. "Are you ready to play?"
Cord lowered the glasses down his nose and looked over the top of them at Slats who was standing beside his shoulder grinning.
"Not bad is she?" he asked.
Cord couldn't believe it. "This is great. You've outdone yourself this time. What else do you have?"
"Just put the glasses on and see."
Cord returned the glasses to his eyes, and the girl was still standing there. He considered the beach scene carefully. "This really looks like I'm at the beach."
"You are," the native girl replied. "Would you like to play ball?" A large multicolored beach ball suddenly appeared at her feet. Bending over, she picked it up then faced Cord again and threw the ball.
Without realizing it his hand came up to catch it. As he moved, he saw a hand appear in front of him in his field of vision and catch the ball. When he turned his actual hand, the virtual hand holding the ball rotated as if he were really holding a ball in his hand.
Fascinated, he played with the hand, moving it from side to side, then turning it over to drop the ball. Looking down, he could see the ball bouncing to the sand. It stopped at his feet. Only they weren't his feet, merely a simulation.
"Can she hear what I say?" he asked Slats.
But before Slats could reply the girl answered. "I do not understand the question."
"Do you have a name?"
"You may refer to me with any name you like," she answered. "My current name is Candy. Do you wish to change it?"
Without thinking, Cord turned his head in the direction Slats was standing. But with the glasses on all he saw was the ocean. Smiling, he turned back to the girl. "No," he said, "Candy will be fine. So, Candy, I need information."
"Please specify the subject," she directed, raising her right hand palm up as she spoke.
"Victor Vinsetti." There was a short pause as Candy put her finger to her chin and looked upward. Then a man appeared on the beach, closer to Cord than Candy but off to one side.
"Victor Vinsetti," she indicated the man with a graceful motion of her hand. "Age 44. Born in Sicily, Italy, to Victoria Vinsetti. Father unknown. Raised as a child by the maternal grandfather, Antonio Vins
etti."
A list appeared on the opposite side of the screen. Cord read through the material available on Victor's past then removed the glasses and looked around. But Slats wasn’t there.
Hearing voices coming from the den, he left the computer to find out what was going on. "Hey man," Slats motioned to him as he entered the room. "You might want to see this."
Cord sat down on the sofa and looked at the television. The evening news was on. In progress was a report by a Washington correspondent.
"The Senate confirmation hearings on the nomination of Victor Vinsetti as the next Secretary of State continued this morning. According to our sources at the White House an official announcement is expected later this month."
Cord spoke up, getting Slat's attention. "Is the AI storing this?"
"Sure, man," Slats nodded and smiled. "Plus gathering information on every news story being reported."
"That's really impressive," Cord said in admiration. "You've taken it farther than I expected."
Slats shrugged, passing it off as nothing special. "I couldn't have done it without you."
Cord smiled then sat back thinking for a few minutes. "Look," he said, "I don't have any money."
" Sure, you do," Slats laughed. "Over one hundred and fifty million just waiting for you."
"A hundred and fifty million?" Cord's eyes were wide in amazement. "You've been hitting that pipe too hard!"
Slats shook his head and stood up. "No, it's true. Come, I'll show you."
Cord followed Slats back over to the computer. Slats sat, slipped on the glasses and spoke to the computer. "Candy girl, show me the Swiss account for Cord Alexander."
Within a few seconds a bank statement form was being displayed on the alternate monitor. Cord's mouth dropped open as he scanned the screen. Displayed under the account name was Cord Alexander, along with a picture of him with dark brown hair and the account access code.
"Well, what you want to do with it, man?" Slats asked.
Cord scratched the back of his neck and looked around for another chair to sit on. There wasn't one, so he perched on the edge of the desk.