Supernova (Supernova Saga)

by C. L. Parker

  “Grammy,” she hiccupped through her sobs. “Grammy, please wake up.”

  “Don’t cry for me, Sunshine.” Grammy’s voice was frail and barely audible. “This was meant to be. It is my fate.”

  “What does that mean?” Kerrigan asked between sharp intakes of breaths.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know because you’re still too young. I thought we would have more time. But know this…you must stay strong and believe in the Light, for it believes in you. You will be very powerful, indeed. Fulfill your destiny, and protect him from the darkness.”

  “I don’t know what you’re saying, Grammy.” Kerrigan cried even harder.

  “I know you don’t, baby, but you will.” Grammy placed her cold hand against Kerrigan’s cheek. Her thumb wiped at her tears. “You have to let me go now, but I will never be far. When you need me, all you have to do is reach out to me, and I’ll be there…watching and guiding you. Don’t be afraid to let your little light shine, Kerrigan. I love you.”

  Grammy’s hand slid from her cheek and came to rest on her own chest. Kerrigan whispered back to her, “I love you too, Grammy.”

  With those last words, her grandmother’s eyes closed, and she slipped away.

  Kerrigan sat straight up in bed, calling out for her grandmother in a panic. Her heart pounded furiously against her chest as she attempted to discern her surroundings. She was back in her bedroom. It had only been a nightmare, but it seemed so very real.

  Once she caught her breath, she untangled herself from her bedcovers and slid from the bed. Her bare feet hit the cold surface of the hardwood floor, and she clumsily made her way to her bathroom. Flipping on the light, she went to the sink and grabbed the glass she kept there before filling it with water from the tap.

  As she raised the glass to her lips to take a sip, she saw herself in the mirror. A younger version of her grandmother, Availia, peered back at her. They had the same pale blue eyes with a charcoal gray lining along the outer edge, identical high cheekbones, arched brows, and identical smiles. They even had similar skin tone, and before her grandmother’s hair color grayed, they had shared the same mahogany hair color with sun kissed highlights. Some of those features they also shared with Kerrigan’s father, Hudson. But, the button nose and the heart shaped lips belonged to her mother, Priscilla.

  The reflection of light in the mirror drew her attention to her right wrist and the bracelet that she wore. It was the same amethyst, black onyx, and moonstone bracelet from the dream. The very one that her grandmother made that day. As promised, she had never removed it.

  Like a residual haunt on replay, every single part about that dream, up until the point when the sky went dark, had been real. She recalled every detail of it with crystal clarity, as if it were only yesterday. She was seven and had been looking forward to her traditional trip to St. Augustine for a very long time, and that made her memory of it that much more vivid.

  Unlike the dream, after removing all of her grandmother’s jewelry, Kerrigan and Availia had actually gone back down the stairs. Kerrigan had made the jade bracelet she had planned, but with one addendum. She included the blue moonstone bead she found on her grandmother’s floor in the center because it reminded her of Grammy’s eyes. She couldn’t remember what happened to that bracelet. She hadn’t seen it since. She assumed her grandmother had taken it to Silver Feather, a local vendor on Saint George Street, to be sold the same way she did with all the other pieces of jewelry they made.

  A light breeze filtered through the room, blowing errant strands of hair about her face. A hushed breath sighed behind her. “Se valiente, guardián de mi alma.” It was the same husky voice from her dream. Her knees went weak, her body quaked, and her head felt faint. She closed her eyes to stabilize her equilibrium and was once again awarded the same vision of emerald green eyes.

  There was a presence in the room. Kerrigan could feel it. Startled, she opened her eyes, but the only thing she saw was her bewildered reflection looking back at her.

  She let out a long breath and shook her head. “That was either a really intense dream, or you’re losing your mind, Kerrigan Cruz,” she mumbled to her image.

  She turned the faucet on again and let some of the cool water pool into her cupped hands before splashing it on her face. After grabbing a towel to dry off, she turned off the light and padded back to her bed. She crawled inside and snuggled her pillow tight. She would call her grandmother in the morning. It had been too long since she had been to see her. After college graduation and then work, there never seemed to be any time. Guilt began to set in and with it, the visions of the nightmare resurfaced. She squeezed her eyelids shut to the images of her grandmother’s frail body lying on her bed, her eyes bleak and dying.

  “Kerrigan…Kerrigan…” Grammy’s voice sang out to her.

  Kerrigan was convinced she was dreaming again, but when she sat up, she was still in her own bed. A small ball of light drew her attention to the door. It grew and grew until she could see an apparition of her grandmother appearing before her. The ghostly figure glided toward the bed. Grammy was wearing the same gown from Kerrigan’s dream, and her snow white hair flowed like wisps of webbing behind her. She was the vision of an angel.

  Kerrigan instantly felt surrounded by the warmth of her grandmother’s love as she sat on the edge of the bed and smiled down at her.

  “Grammy?” Her sleepy voice expressed her confusion.

  “Oh, my little Sunshine, I couldn’t go just yet.” She felt a brush of cool air across her cheek as her grandmother’s translucent hand swept a strand of hair away from her face.

  Kerrigan closed her eyes, and a lone tear trickled down her cheek. It had all just been a dream, a horrific nightmare, yet she felt an undeniable sense of loss. Seeing her grandmother there in that moment brought a measure of relief.

  “I had an awful nightmare, Grammy. I dreamed I lost you, and it felt so real.”

  “I know, baby. Sometimes the connection we share shows us things we would never want the other to see.”

  Kerrigan opened her eyes, her brow furrowed in confusion. Her mouth opened, about to say something, but her grandmother put her finger over her lips to silence her.

  “I have something important to tell you, and I’m only allowed a very short time in which to do so. The one who has been touched by the Light...you mustn’t turn him away. You will need him just as much as he needs you if you are to succeed in your task.”

  With a sense of finality, Availia stood and placed an icy kiss to Kerrigan’s forehead.

  “Wait! Where are you going? Who are you talking about?” Kerrigan asked, but her grandmother’s ghostly form was already retreating toward the door.

  “Look past what you can see, and the truth shall be revealed. Nothing is truly what it seems.” With those last words, she vanished.

  Kerrigan’s cell phone rang from the nightstand beside her, and she jumped as the intrusive sound broke the eerie silence of the room. It wasn’t a dream. Her grandmother had actually been there. But how was that possible? She sat looking at her door where she had last seen her grandmother seconds ago. Suddenly it opened, startling her again. Her roommate and best friend, Gabe, barged into the room with a scornful look on his face.

  He groaned in frustration and ran his hands through his immaculately cut sandy-blond hair. “Are you going to answer that damn thing, or am I going to have to flush it down the toilet again?”

  When she didn’t answer him, he sighed dramatically. “Fine, looks like I’m flushing it.” He sashayed over to her nightstand and grabbed the phone.

  “Gabe, don’t you dare!” Kerrigan locked her fingers around his wrist and took the phone from him before he could make good on his threat. Gabe never made a threat he didn’t fully intend to make good on.

  “It’s probably just Jackin’ Off, anyway.” He rolled his eyes and made a vulgar motion with his hands to illustrate his words. “You need to tell him to stop that stalker shit. Don’t nobody make a
booty call this early in the damn morning. By the way, happy birthday, bitch.”

  Gabe was referring to Kerrigan’s boyfriend of nearly two years, Jackson Knoff. Only he not so lovingly renamed him, Jackin’ Off. They had a love-hate relationship at best. Gabe loved to hate him, and Jackson returned the sentiment.

  Kerrigan huffed as she looked at the screen. “Shoot! I missed the call.”

  Gabe strolled over to her closet and started throwing together her outfit, like he had done every day since they first met, refusing to be seen in public with her looking like a ragamuffin. She suspected he was really living vicariously through her, but she had caught him trying on a couple of her outfits for himself from time to time.

  She scrolled through the missed calls list and found the most recent. Her parents. Not surprising, the phone rang again while in her hands. Her father was very persistent when he wanted to be. She was sure he was going to give her the speech about how much it worried him when she didn’t answer her phone by the second ring. Overbearing, overprotective father – just one of the many drawbacks to being the only child of a military man.

  “Sorry, Dad,” she answered.

  “Kerrigan? It’s Mom,” her mother’s strangled voice answered from the other end.

  “Mom, what’s wrong?” She could hear the distress in her mother’s voice, and she panicked. “Is Dad okay?”

  “Yes, baby, he’s fine.” Her voice was somber and comforting. That’s when Kerrigan knew she had cause to worry. “It’s…it’s your grandmother, sweetie.”

  Kerrigan’s heart leaped into her throat as the nightmare came back to the forefront of her mind. Tears welled in her eyes. Her mother didn’t have to say the next words. She already knew.

  “She passed away, baby.” Her mother’s strained voice struggled to maintain composure. “She had a heart attack last night, and she’s gone.”

  She may have said more, but Kerrigan stopped listening long before she uttered the confirmation of her fears. Grammy was dead. Nothing else mattered after that. The vision of her grandmother lying on her bed, clutching the place over her heart filtered back into her mind. The dream – the nightmare – it was real.

  The phone slipped out of her hand and tumbled onto the bed. Tears began to wash down her cheeks unabated. Kerrigan folded in on herself, bringing her knees up to hug them to her chest. Grief overcame her. As if he wasn’t quite satisfied with the life he had already taken, Death’s bony hand reached inside her chest, squeezing her heart to drive the point home. The pain of her loss was tangible – far too much to bear – and she fell over onto the bed, sobbing mercilessly.

  Gabe rushed to her side and picked up the phone. His frantic voice became part of the background as Kerrigan’s senses began to shut down. She couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that Grammy was gone, and she had seen it all in her dream without being able to do anything to prevent it. She faintly heard Gabe’s words of condolence before he hung up the phone and lay down beside Kerrigan. Hugging his best friend close, he hushed her, whispering assurances that everything was okay.

  But it wasn’t okay. Having dreams about the passing of your grandmother was not okay. Seeing your grandmother’s spirit mere seconds after her death was not okay. And feeling the despondency of losing the person you most connected with on the face of the planet was not okay.

  Chicago weather in the middle of January was the most brutal of the year for the Windy City. Near blizzard conditions with temperatures reaching barely above zero degrees was the norm, not the exception. But not on that day.

  It was raining outside, had been raining non-stop all day long. Veins of water jumped across Kerrigan’s window in a diagonal direction, reminding her of the countless tears that had fallen down her face throughout the day. There were no more tears left to shed though. She was all cried out. Not because Jackson’s company was particularly comforting to her, she was just a dried up well of sorrow and despair.

  No conversation had passed between them, just mute silence. She watched the people on the streets streak by in a blur from the window of the passenger seat of Jackson’s 2010 Cadillac CTS Coupe. It was shiny and silver, and cost more than he could afford, but for Jackson, it was all about keeping up appearances. Yes, her boyfriend was one of those people. He was a brownnoser and a pompous ass that treated her more like she was a piece of property rather than his girlfriend. He hadn’t always been like that.

  When her father first introduced them, Jackson was smooth and persuasive. He wine-and-dined her, opened her door, pulled out her seat, and wooed her with little tokens of his affection. All the cheesy romantic stuff that was supposed to make a woman swoon. Eventually, the façade melted away, and the real Jackson Knoff was revealed. To everyone except those whose opinions actually mattered, that is.

  He was her father’s banker. Tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed, and a winning smile. He always got what he wanted. When her father introduced Kerrigan to him, he set his sights on her.

  God, he was an asshole. To say he wasn’t the ideal boyfriend would have been an understatement, but Jackson seemed to think pretty highly of himself. Almost daily, he reminded Kerrigan that she was lucky just to be seen with him.

  Jackson insisted on treating himself like a king, but she was anything but his queen. More like a mere peasant. The only time he ever appeared to adore and dote on her was in the presence of her parents. Her mother was suspicious, but her father was blind to what really lurked behind the veil of deceit. Daddy might not have thought the sun rose and set with Jackson if he had known the man he thought so highly of had stolen his little girl’s virtue in a drunken stupor.

  They pulled up to the valet station of Beau Belle, her family’s favorite restaurant. Jackson opened his own door to step out, leaving the attendant to open Kerrigan’s. He didn’t even bother to tip the guy, but he waited patiently while Kerrigan did.

  She was dressed all in black, mourning the loss of her grandmother. She had no desire to celebrate her birthday, but she hoped spending some time with her parents might help ease the anguish of her loss.

  “Cheer up, Kerri!” Jackson said in an all too exuberant voice. Kerrigan seethed. He knew she hated it when he called her that. “It’s your birthday. Besides, it’s not like you didn’t know this day was coming. We can’t live forever you know.”

  And that was the extent of his condolences, the first and last he would offer.

  They stepped inside and were ceremoniously ushered to their table where her parents, Hudson and Priscilla, were already seated. Hudson stood to greet Kerrigan with a tight hug before passing her off to her mother. He seemed a little too anxious to get to Jackson, clapping him on the back and calling him “son”.

  Yeah, like I’d ever marry him, Kerrigan thought to herself. The only reason she hadn’t dumped him yet was because she was too chicken to upset her father.

  Hudson Cruz was a company commander at the Naval Station Great Lakes, and he was a mean son of a bitch to those poor souls. He ruled with an iron fist, but Kerrigan knew that he only wanted what was best for his little girl. At least that’s what he told her when he forced her to attend a Christian college in Northern Chicago. His intentions were good, and Kerrigan never doubted his love for her, but he dominated every aspect of her life like she was one of his naval recruits. The only person his dominant personality didn’t work on was his wife.

  “Happy birthday, baby!” Priscilla sang out in a cheerful tone that still managed to sound somber to Kerrigan’s ear. Her mother knew there would be nothing happy about it, but she was trying nonetheless, and she had to give her credit for that.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Kerrigan kissed her cheek before leaning in to whisper in her ear. “How’s he holding up?”

  Priscilla pulled back. She gave her a tight smile and a nod that conveyed her husband was doing about as well as could be expected.

  Even at the age of forty-nine, Priscilla was a stunning woman. Her skin was soft and rich like pure cream. Only the tiniest
of laugh lines crinkled around rich chocolate brown eyes that always shined with the warmth of motherly love. Her strawberry blonde hair hung in thick cascading waves down her back. She preferred to leave it loose and rarely wore it up. She always wore a soft smile that made her whole face radiate a beauty that left men breathless. The gentle sway of her hips, a look from beneath sooty lashes, and an innocent touch to the arm had men falling over themselves to take care of her every need. Her husband was no exception.

  “So,” Hudson started as he took his seat. Jackson followed his lead until he caught Hudson’s questioning eye as he glanced back at his daughter, who was still standing. Her father was a stickler for traditional manners.

  “Oh, let me get that for you.” Jackson rushed over to pull Kerrigan’s chair out for her. His rancid breath blew into her face, and she threw up a little in her mouth with one whiff of the sulfur and rotten egg odor to which she had become accustomed. Jackson suffered from chronic halitosis, but Kerrigan suffered more. One would think a person with his condition would make it a point to constantly have breath mints available, but not Jackson.

  Hudson beamed at her boyfriend’s politeness and winked at Kerrigan from across the table. He ignored Jackson’s near faux pas because he was convinced his daughter had a real catch. If only he knew the truth.

  “How about this weather?” her father asked. He was nervous and fidgeting, not at all customary for him. Hudson was always very confident and carried himself as such.

  “You know, I remember the day Kerrigan was born,” Priscilla started the story she had heard so many times, every single year on the same date to be exact. “Imagine, the middle of January in Chicago, Illinois, and it was seventy-four degrees outside. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the sun was shining so bright…” Her voice drifted, and a look of nostalgia crossed her flawless features.

  “Availia wasn’t a bit surprised. She had flown in from Florida that morning. Just showed up out of the blue.” Priscilla recalled the fond memory with a warm smile. “She didn’t even call your father to pick her up from the airport. She caught a cab, came into the house, told Hud to put my bags in the car, and then ushered me out the front door. I hadn’t had so much as a twitch of pain at the time. We thought she was nuts, but she insisted we go to the hospital right away.