by Amy Marie
Her curls bounce again with her nod.
I speak again, in English this time. “I’m Aurora Sinclair. I’ve just been hired on for research, but it seems they have a need for me in restoration today. Do you work here?”
Aurora!
The connection of this dreaming memory floors me. I’m dreaming of Aurora’s life! Rafe and I were right! She was the light soul that Uncle Mike and Darcy spoke of.
Uncle Mike!
The realization hits me like a wave. What if I see him in this memory? I’m not quite sure I’d be able to handle it. I’m so overwhelmed by my thoughts, I’ve missed part of what the young woman is saying.
“…my uncle is the exhibit designer. He’s letting me intern as la preparatoria while I’m finishing up secondary school.” She glances down to the shattered jar.
Exhibit designer. All these artifacts and paintings. I piece the clues together in my mind.
A museum in France. Could this be the Louvre?
I follow the young girl’s gaze to the floor and the weight of her situation hits me.
She broke an artifact. She’s in trouble.
“Right, let’s get that cleaned up.” I’m surprised by my quick response. “There must be an inventory sheet. Perhaps we can make an edit?”
Aurora, you little rebel!
The young girl’s look of shock mirrors my thoughts. “You mean… we… we can’t cover this up!”
“Absolutely we can! It’s just a canopic jar,” I hear myself saying.
Aurora must’ve been as much of a history nerd as I am to know that these stone jars are the ancient vessels that the Egyptians used to hold their mummified organs.
“It’s not very ornate, so it’s not likely to contain an organ of anybody noteworthy. In fact, the actual organ is probably long gone by now if it’s not rolled up in a bandage by your feet.” I point down.
Her feet do a small shuffle as if to avoid stepping on something, and I notice a gleam of something other than stone.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing again. “Did it come from the jar?”
The girl bends down to pick up a piece of gold jewelry from the pile of broken rubble.
“It’s an amulet!” she says in awe.
My mind zones out. Everything else seems to fade away. I only notice one thing, and I can barely contain myself.
The young girl is holding a necklace that she found inside an ancient artifact. But not just any necklace. A necklace that I recognize! A necklace that I’ve dreamt of before.
The young girl holds up the pendant and a small oval-shaped eye sits neatly inside a gold triangle.
The eye!
I’m yanked from my dream in an instant from the shock of my recognition.
I sit up in my seat on the plane with a gasp. Everyone around me is still sleeping. I take a moment to lay back and catch my breath, concentrating hard on what I just learned from my dream.
It was the necklace from my Egyptian dream. The dream that revealed how to find the elemental soul of water so long ago. The dream that ended with Darcy’s soul sacrificing himself to try to save me. The dream where I wore that very necklace. Now I dreamt about it again as another soul of light!
I decide to wait to share my news until the others get some much needed rest. We can recuperate back at the sanctuary and go over our plan for Paris.
Thinking of Paris brings my mind back to Aurora. I need to find out more about her before we go. It sounded like she was working at the Louvre. I feel an unexplainable sense of loss for the young woman, knowing she was killed by Talbot. Did she have dreams like me? Did she know why she died? Did she even understand how important the necklace was? Had she known about her connection to it?
There are two things I now know for certain: One, Aurora was in the same room as the necklace at some point. And two, the necklace — shaped like the Eye of Providence — was at the Louvre in Paris, which just so happens to be where we’re headed next.
The eye.
Seek the pyramid and you will find the eye. The prophecy led us to Paris and now I know why! Everything is connecting and leading us to the necklace, including Uncle Mike’s clue.
Could it still be at the museum after all this time?
Chapter 8
Back in New England, Besim’s arranged for the Midewin to have a safe place to recover under careful guard. His colleague, Dr. Hickey, has agreed to watch over her recovery.
“She’s in a medically induced coma while she recovers, and I’m told that she’ll recover full mental capabilities. Physically, they’re not so optimistic. The entire upper half of her body has been burnt and will remain disfigured,” Besim explains as we gather to plan our Paris trip.
“Dansé has asked to stay behind from the trip,” I announce to the others. “I think she wants to be there when the Midewin’s wakes.” I keep it to myself, but I can’t help feeling like Dansé’s avoiding us, but I understand her commitment to her tribe.
But what’s Char’s excuse?
The thought pops into my mind, unbidden. My eyes sweep the main room of the shelter, missing my sister. Every time I notice her absence, a heavy guilt weighs me down. I’m the only family she has left, but I’m the reason all the rest are gone. No wonder she can’t stand to be in the same room with me anymore.
“So, tell us more about this dream,” Professor Besim interrupts my depressing thoughts. I go on to recount the details of my glimpse into Aurora’s life and her connection to the necklace.
“In my dream, Aurora discovered the same necklace that I’ve dreamt about before,” I say. “They were in a museum. It must’ve been the Louvre.”
“And when you researched the dates, that puts the necklace in Paris how long ago?” Joe asks Rafe.
“The fifties. Aurora Sinclair’s death certificate was dated in 1955,” Rafe replies.
“A lot could’ve happened to the necklace by then,” Tara shrugs. “Have we confirmed it’s still there?”
“I’ve already checked with the department of Egyptian antiquities,” Rafe explains. “They have a variety of necklaces, but only one gold one that matches the description of a triangle surrounding an oval. When I asked about it, it was credited to be found with some other excavations from a dig in Heliopolis in the early fifties.”
“It sounds like it could be the real deal,” I say. “But how do we—”
“That’s the problem,” Rafe interrupts. “They won’t let us near it. We can only examine it, without touching it, in the presence of a museum employee and security. I tried every academic excuse in the book. They refused, apparently the museum has a strict protocol: If a piece from their collection is damaged or there’s been an attempt to steal it, they flag it, and there’s no longer private access.”
“Was the necklace damaged?” Dylan asks.
Rafe clasps his hands behind his back in a very Uncle Mike-like manner and raises his eyebrows with dramatic flair. “It was stolen, actually. Or rather, there was an attempt to steal it on the night of the exhibit opening in 1955. But it was recovered.”
“Did they catch the guy who took it?” Joe asks.
“No. From the information I found on the incident, the thief escaped and the necklace was found a few hours later. But I did notice something interesting…” he trails off.
“What’s that?” Besim asks.
“The night the exhibit opened and the necklace was stolen matches the date on Aurora’s death certificate. It all happened the same night.”
“That can’t be a coincidence,” Tara observes.
“I figured as much,” Rafe agrees, “so I did a little more digging. I found an article about a museum employee who was strangled in the parking lot on the night of the gala. Aurora was at the museum when she died.”
“Really?” Dylan asks.
“Do you think she was the one that tried to steal the necklace?” Tara asks.
Everyone looks to me as if I can turn on the reminiscence on demand and produce the answer out
of thin air. “I’m not sure,” I shrug to their disappointment.
“I wish there was someone we could talk to that knew her,” Joe muses.
“But there is,” a quiet voice interrupts us.
I turn in surprise. Char stands in the doorway looking more pale than I’ve ever seen her.
“You should be resting,” I just barely hear Rafe’s whispered reproach.
Char moves forward a few steps, and as I get a good look her, I can’t disagree. She looks seriously ill. She moves past Rafe, ignoring him.
“Uncle Mike had a brother-in-law,” Char continues to my surprise. “He called a few weeks ago about the funeral. Nora was still unconscious. He gave his condolences because he couldn’t make the trip overseas. He left his contact info, and he just so happens to live in Paris.” Her voice grows timid as she turns to me. “It wasn’t until Rafe told me about your dream that I realized it might help to talk to him.”
I fight the urge to hug Char, she looks so frail. Ever since she’s been avoiding me I’ve been uncertain of how things are between us, but seeing her like this is tearing me apart. I knew she’d been struggling with everything that’s happened, but I didn’t realize it was affecting her health like this.
The last thing I want to do is make things worse, but I just don’t know what to say or how to act. I end up giving her a lame wave. “Hey, sis.”
God, I’m awkward.
“Rafe told me what happened in Vegas,” she says to me, “I can’t believe about the fire soul! And you’re going to Paris! You’ve always wanted to go to Paris!” Her words pour out in a rush of excitement. Then she stops herself and takes a step back, looking away. She almost sounded like she was back to her old self for a moment.
I try to grasp on to the connection before it slips away again. “You’re coming with us, aren’t you? I can just picture you and me exploring the city of lights!”
“I can’t,” she says, avoiding eye contact.
“Right.” My voice turns flat.
Professor Besim clears his throat and cuts in, “I’ve taken the liberty to ask Ms. Goodwin to stay and help me with some things while you’re away.”
He’s obviously trying to smooth things over, though I don’t know why he would even bother. My sister obviously can’t stand to be near me.
“Great,” I give a stiff nod to her and turn toward the others. “I better finish packing, we’ll leave first thing.” I move to escape my discomfort, but Char grabs my hand to stop me.
“Be safe,” she whispers, squeezing my hand. She rushes out before I can even register that she quietly added, “love you.”
Chapter 9
“You are alive!”
My body tenses, every nerve standing on end. My heart can’t stop fluttering. It’s how I’ve always reacted to that voice.
Darcy?
I have no idea how I got here, but when I turn to see my dark knight standing a foot away from me, I nearly fall over.
“How—” I begin, but there’s no time for another word as he steps forward and crushes me into his embrace. His lips are firm and warm pushing into mine with all the emotion of lost love.
For a moment, I let his warming touch melt my pain away, and I’m lost in the pleasure of this fantasy…
This isn’t real.
My subconscious ruins the fun. I open my eyes in the kiss and notice that we’re back in the old sanctuary, which would be fairly impossible considering the place was destroyed.
I must’ve fallen asleep on the plane ride to Paris. I almost thought by some miracle I really had Darcy back. Disappointment breaks me away from his embrace.
“What is it?” dream Darcy asks.
I’m not sure what to say. I’m scared to say anything that will make the dream end. I have to admit, I don’t want to wake up. Maybe I can just play along for another minute or two…
I turn back to him and put my arms around his neck, running my fingers through his dark hair.
“I miss you,” I lean forward and whisper into his chest.
“Aye.” His Scottish roots slip out, and he sweeps me up in another embrace, this time a little rougher.
Looks like dream Darcy isn’t here for conversation. He kisses me, hard. And I love every second of it. But the part of me that knows this isn’t real keeps screaming for me to stop. It’s only going to make waking up more difficult.
Frustrated, I push against him. “Stop. This’ll only make things worse,” the words slip out.
“I beg to differ.” He reaches his hands to scandalous places.
“You’re impossible!” I smack dream Darcy’s hands away with a giggle.
“Ha, this almost feels like the real you,” he says, moving a piece of hair from my eyes. “Fighting off my affections, even in my dreams.”
What did he just say?
I turn up to him in shock.
“Darcy?” I ask, squinting up to examine every detail of his face, looking for an imperfection that my mind can’t quite get right. But he’s perfect, just like I remember.
He kisses my forehead, ignoring me. “As long as I can wake knowing you are alive, I will settle for only having you in my dreams.”
“Darcy,” I try again. “This is my dream.”
He gives a little laugh and holds me back to take his turn to squint at me.
“Nora?” he whispers in question.
He thinks this is his dream. But I’m positive this is my dream.
What if we’re both dreaming?
Is this part of the reminiscence? Can we somehow meet in the middle? How have we not figured this out before now? Or am I making this up in my own head and driving myself crazy?
“Tell me something I would not know, something my mind cannot make up, so I know you are really you, and not part of my dream,” he says.
“How do I know Lilly isn’t controlling you here, trying to trick me into giving you information?” I ask, wary.
He gives his famous half-smile. “You sound just like you. She may have control over my body, but I am still myself inside. She will never control my dreams.”
“How is this possible?” I ask.
“The reminiscence is our power, yours and mine. We are triggers for each other. What if it could connect us too?” he thinks out loud. He then looks into my eyes like he’s seeing me for the first time. “Jesus, Nora, you really are alive! She… I… I did not know.” He crushes me back into his embrace, his body trembling with emotion.
Almost in reaction to our discovery, something changes in the air, and the sanctuary begins to fade away.
“If this is real, I had a dream about Aurora,” I say quickly, knowing we’re about to wake up any second and wanting to prove that I’m really me. “I miss you so much, and I’m going to find a way to get you back!” I almost have to yell because everything is fading, including my voice.
I pull him in for a kiss, but he stops me. “Lilly is growing more powerful, but she is scared,” I can barely hear him, his voice is like an echo. It’s like we’re being pulled farther and farther apart. “She knows if any of you find the necklace, you will be able to—”
But it’s too late.
He’s gone.
A sense of déjà vu sweeps over me as I step down from the plane onto the tarmac. I turn, feeling the ghost of a memory on my heels, but it’s gone as quick as it came.
“Everything alright?” Tara asks from behind me.
I nod and move along, hopeful that more memories can be unlocked now that we’ve arrived in Paris. It might be my imagination, but my intuition is telling me something’s near.
When I woke from my dream, the plane had just landed. I haven’t had a chance to tell the others about my connection with Darcy. I’m not sure I want to. Can I trust it to be real? If so, is there a way to do it again? So many more questions to add to my never-ending list of uncertainties.
There’s one big question that’s dwarfing all the others. Darcy was trying to tell me something about the necklace. Which
means Lilly must know about it.
But does she know where it is?
“Nora… Nora!” Rafe snatches my attention, bringing me back to reality. I look around at the station and realize we’ve already taken the train into the heart of the city.
“Let’s split up here,” Rafe says to Joe, Tara, and Dylan. “You three check in to the hotel, and Nora and I will meet with Uncle Mike’s brother-in-law.”
“Once we drop our bags, how about we head over to the Louvre to look around?” suggests Joe.
“Good idea,” Rafe nods. “We’ll meet you guys later.” Our elementals take their leave, and Rafe raises his arm to signal our arriving Uber. “You’ve been awfully quiet,” he says, looking down to me with his arm still raised.
“You know me,” I shrug. “Overthinking everything.”
“Anything you want to run by me?” he asks.
I bite my lip in hesitation, wondering if he’ll think I’m going crazy.
“Ah, the lip bite,” he says. “You’re holding back. Let’s hear it.”
I grind my teeth in irritation. Am I that easy to read?
“You’re an open book,” Rafe says with a chuckle, answering my unspoken question. I stomp on his foot right as a car pulls up, but he just laughs. “C’mon, you can tell me,” he says after he shows Broderick Sinclair’s address to the driver.
“I had a dream about Darcy,” I admit, avoiding eye contact.
“A memory?” Rafe asks, perking up.
I shake my head. “I’ve never had a dream like this before.”
His face scrunches up. “Are you about to tell me something kinky?” he teases.
I can’t hold back my smile. “Har-har,” I poke him, and then continue on in all seriousness. “No, I’m not even sure if it was real, or just something I want so badly to be real. But in my dream, I talked to Darcy. Like, the real Darcy. He told me he was dreaming too. He thought it may have something to do with the reminiscence. Like maybe it connected our dreams.” I peek over at him to gauge his reaction.
All traces of humor fade from Rafe’s face. “Is that possible?” he asks.