by Debra Kristi
“Not following.” I inch forward. His words remind me of so many things. Of a boy I used to know, a place much like this. Maybe it was this place.
“Right, how could you?” He glances down at something in his hands. Light reflects off it, reminding me of something else. But what? “You see, Ana—”
“You did not come!” The voice booms from behind me.
I spin around, just as my mystery visitor steps from the shadows. I fail to get a good look. My heart races, but my priorities change as Dohlan nears. He’s now all I see. Everything else is forgotten. In the few strides it takes to fold the space between us, his ire is already thawing, his eyes smoldering.
“You came not when I called last time. Why do you refuse me? Stay with me now. Be my queen.” His breath on my face is the drug I didn’t know I missed. I want to savor the moment, inhale his essence. He embraces me, melding us into one. Placing my head to his chest, I lose myself in his warmth, his rhythm.
“How do you do that, anyway, call me from the other side?” I whisper into his shirt.
“I’ve told you before. Your blood sings to me. I can always find you, summon you.” His hands soothe the lines of my back, caress my hair.
I shudder at the thought. My blood is his own personal tracking device. Ick. “You could have killed me, Dohlan.” I look up and meet his gaze. “You can’t just call me at your whim. As much as I may like to come, the timing was not ideal.”
Adorning my head with a kiss, he clutches me firm. “Losing you is not an option. This other world, it is dangerous?”
“It can be, at times. Is any place truly safe?”
“You would be safe with me. I can protect you.”
I remain silent, warming my head to his chest and wrapping my arms around him even tighter. I feel like there’s something I’m forgetting, something about Dohlan, but I don’t worry much about it. And even though I have no intention of staying, I don’t ruin the moment.
“I see you have come to the cliffs again, and this time you brought a friend.” He emphasizes the last word.
“What?” I’ve forgotten my mystery visitor and now throw a quick glance back.
“He left.” Dohlan’s tone reeks of complete boredom.
“He was here when I arrived.” I poke his chest with my finger. “I expected to find you. You were late.”
“Yes.” His sense of apathy makes me prickly.
My forehead crinkles. “You aren’t bothered by some guy I don’t even know, are you?”
He lifts his brow. “Should I be?” His posture is stiff, unyielding, and I wonder what he’s not telling me.
“Of course not.”
“Why do you keep me waiting, Ana? Will you stay or not?” Anger creeps into the back tones of his voice. An instant desire to put distance between us blooms, and I don’t know how to tactfully make that happen.
I take a step back and appraise him. “Why do you want me to be your queen?”
“Why do you ask questions of nonsense?” He gazes upon me with the clearest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. So clear it’s hard to imagine them hiding anything. Still, I must probe.
“Are they nonsense? I don’t think so. After all, I’ve never heard you actually declare you love me. Say you love me, Dohlan.” I take another step back, cross my arms, stare him down.
His face is a perfect blank mask, void of any emotion. Something I realize he’s a master of. In silence he watches me, and I understand now that’s been the issue all along. He can’t say the word. Can’t say he loves me. I’ve been such a fool.
Dammit.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
Pain shreds me to pieces from the inside out. I no longer want to be here, in this place, with this guy. The agony plows through me like a trowel dredging a hole straight to my heart. I turn away, wish desperately to wake up. Dohlan’s incessant questions force my hands over my ears.
“Why?” he says. “Why are you putting such distance between us?”
Please, please, please. Wake now, Ana.
“Ana, do not turn from me.” His voice doesn’t sound human anymore. It growls.
Too late. I’m already yanking myself free. I’m doing it! A soft mattress now lies beneath me, and—
—I open my eyes to Oscar licking my face.
“Good kitty. Did you wake me up?” I fluff his hair, then pull him to me and hug him tight. He yowls and squirms from my hold, scampering out the door before I have a chance to catch him. Not that I had any thoughts of trying. Dream-walks are draining, and I need a moment to pool my strength.
The picture of Crystia and Caesar sits on my nightstand, staring at me. It’s a welcoming image upon awakening, even if a sadness settles in my heart. Dohlan. I should be happy about this, right? Now I know, and it will help me move on. A relationship with a guy stuck in a dream is no relationship at all. I curl my pillow around my head and stifle a small cry, then flip to the other side of the bed.
What does it say about me if the guy of my dreams can’t even love me?
A low rumble in my belly, brought on by the mouthwatering aroma of Sunday breakfast. The delicious scent of freshly cooked batter is sufficient to drag me out of bed. The aroma wafts down the hall, begging me to follow the trail back to the kitchen. Mom’s fluffy pancakes, smothered in brown maple syrup and topped with home-whipped butter, can help me forget any worry, albeit temporarily.
Tomorrow I have to deal with the fallout from my swim meet performance. But for now, chitchat remains delightfully light and uplifting between bites of smothered buttery goodness.
Midway through the meal I freeze, utensil in hand, preparing to shove a new forkful of pancakes into my mouth. Last night I started the dream with Jaden! He was my mystery visitor. I let myself get distracted by Dohlan. Why did I allow that to happen? I should have realized sooner.
I fight the urge to jump from my seat, shout something. Dance, shake my fist. But when I consider the faces surrounding me, I decide to keep the news to myself. After all, I don’t know if he was truly there, or if I’m just projecting him there.
When Mom slips away to freshen up before work, I follow her to her room. She invites me in with a welcoming smile. She primps—powders her chin, reapplies her lipstick—and I’m secretly curious if she’s preening for anyone in particular.
“What’s on your mind, honey?” she asks me through the reflection in the mirror.
“Nothing, really.”
I pick at the bed sheets. I want to ask her about the dreams and how she said it was a family thing. I want to understand how I could emerge with injuries. But there’s more I’m struggling with, and maybe she could help. Like Dohlan. Something’s not right there. And the whole event from the school pool—the black, slithery shadows and the vision.
“Is there any history of mental illness in our family?” I ask abruptly.
Something I take for resolve rolls across her features when she turns to regard me. Her face falls, and her shoulders go slack. “Anala?” Coming to sit beside me, she wraps her arms around my shoulder. “Of course not, honey. Whatever you’re experiencing, you’re not crazy. There’s no history of illness in our family.” She looks me in the eye and squeezes me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I’m not sure where to begin. A tear forms, something I despise, so I swiftly wipe away the evidence and meet my mom’s gaze. Her shiny auburn hair and pale-gray eyes are so unlike mine. These differences between us have never bothered me before, but now… Now I wonder if we’re really related. I look nothing like her. Neither does Crystia. Or Kaia, for that matter.
With a heavy sigh, I open the floodgate on my questions.
“I keep having those dreams, the ones with Kaia. Some of them are pretty intense. And I feel like you’re keeping secrets with Ry. Then I’m healing unnaturally fast and getting messages on my computer that seem to match things I dream about. I don’t know what to make of it all. Plus, we look nothing alike! Maybe the hospital switched babies, and I really do have craz
y in my family.” I yammer so fast I need to take a deep breath when I finish.
She squeezes me tight. “You’re mine. Don’t you ever worry about that. Both you and your sister resemble your father.” She said your father. She almost never mentions him. “As for everything else, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. You inherited those special gifts from my family, and they’re nothing to fear.” She combs her fingers through the back of my hair. “We’re very lucky to heal fast. It’s a good thing, but you might want to keep it to yourself.” Her hand runs along the side of my face, raising my gaze to meet hers. “Most of this started for you a week or so ago, didn’t it? After the seventh moon.”
I nod. “I think so. I don’t remember ever healing from a scraped knee super-fast in elementary school.”
Mom smiles. “You never did. Just like the healing gift blossomed when you came into your own on the seventh moon, after your eighteenth birthday. It means you’re ready.”
I swallow. “Ready for what?”
“To be your own person. You have a rare and special gift.” She pats the top of my hand. “It will take some getting used to.”
My chest drops. She let me down again, copping out on the answer. I’m not sure if I’m happy or sad that I failed to mention the shadow creatures.
“What am I? Seeing my dead sister, is it a ghost whisperer sort of thing?”
“You can call it that if you like. The two of you are bonded through blood. Kaia will be with you as a guide.” She squeezes my hand. There is the tiniest hint of a spark in her eye, but mostly they’re tired and worn.
My insides squirm with irritation. Twice I asked. Twice she let me down.
I’m a few minutes late for kenpo, and my sensei is displeased. He watches my every move with the utmost intensity. Good students are always punctual. Making up for lost time, I throw myself into the warm-up, and soon I’m in the zone. Starting with jabs, my focus lasers in on my purple punching bag. I punch swift and straight, then swoop in from the side and repeat. After multiple repetitions, I proceed to my kicks, working on the four basics, repeating until I can execute them in perfect form.
Bringing my knee up, snapping my leg out, I deliver a devastating blow to the punching bag time and time again. A fine film of sweat covers my skin, and my gi is extra toasty, but I revel in the thrill of my blood pumping, my heart thrumming, the heat and energy vibrating through my muscles.
“The crystals, Ana.”
I stare at my sensei. His lips didn’t move. He didn’t say a thing. So…where did the sound come from? I pause, search the studio. Call Kaia’s name. Of course she’s not here. How could she be? That’s just great. Now I’m hearing voices everywhere I go. After what Mom told me, I should have seen this coming.
“Ana, what are we doing?” My sensei is red in the face. “Am I wasting my time here today? Or are we going to focus and learn?”
“Sorry, sensei. I don’t know what came over me. It won’t happen again.”
I return to the lesson. Somehow, I get through the rest of the class without incident. In the midst of the hour, I realize I’ll have to be on my toes all the time now. My life is different. I’m different.
On my way out the door, I text Crystia, asking her to check in with me later. We still haven’t had that talk I asked for a week ago.
The crystals splayed out before me shimmer and shine, reflecting the sun sneaking in through the window above my garage workspace. Natural light energizes the stone I’m working on, amplifying its potency. While grinding it to a nice, smooth surface, its internal power vibrates, extending from the stone straight up the tool and spreading throughout me. This particular stone has a unique power I’m finding difficult to place.
I’ve been in the garage laboring on my crystal jewelry for some time when the creak of the door signals Crystia’s arrival.
“Hola, chickie.” Crystia drags a stool across the room and settles next to me. “I’m now present and accounted for.”
It’s a perfect moment, being carefree and shooting the breeze with my sis. I wonder if I should shift the mood, ask her about today. Kaia was the one talking to me in the studio, I know it. Maybe it was her ghost I heard, like Mom suggested. I wonder how far Crystia’s dreams go, if she hears the cats like I hear Kaia.
My hands work busily with the crystals. “Remember you once asked me if I thought we were different?” I glance up from my work, see a thoughtful look on her face. “In what way?”
She doesn’t say anything, so I continue.
“You told me about the cats. Now we have the dream thing in common. Is there anything else?”
She shifts against the bench and leans toward me. “Well, yeah. Don’t you sometimes feel like we’re just…better at things than other people?”
I abandon my work and give her my full attention. “What do you mean?”
“Take your swimming, for instance. You swim faster and stronger than anyone else in class. And when I tried out for track, even after you told me not to, I ran faster than everyone else. The coach was ticked when I quit. You had to know something was up to tell me not to try out.”
I remember the conversation. She’s right. I avoided the track coach for a long time. And I purposely ran slower in P. E. In fact, Ry was the only one who came close to my time when I gave half an effort. “Okay, suppose what you say is true. What does it all mean?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I just know that it is.”
“So, is there anything else?”
“What are you fishing for? Has something happened?”
I press my lips together and grimace. All the while my hands smooth their way down my legs, calming the bouncing.
“What happened? You can’t start something like this and not fill me in. It’s not fair.”
She’s right. If the roles were reversed, I would be saying the same thing. “All right, here’s the deal, and it’s going to sound completely nuts.”
“That’s okay. I’m good with that.”
“I’m sure you are.” I roll my eyes. “I was in the middle of kenpo, just me and my sensei, when all of a sudden I heard a third voice. It said, ‘The crystals, Ana.’”
Her eyes widen. “Wow. Was there possibly someone looking in the window?”
I swing on my stool and try to remember if I missed anything in the dojo window. “I didn’t see anyone.”
“Interesting. Only a voice. Maybe there was a mouse or something else in the room,” she says thoughtfully.
I ache to collapse into a slouch, only I don’t. “Not that I noticed. Maybe a fly on the wall?” My voice oozes with sarcasm, but she appears to ponder the idea.
“Maybe.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Mom said it’s a ghost whisperer kind of thing.”
“You talked to Mom about this? When?”
“We were talking about something else. I think this experience could fit, though. I was only wondering if it had happened to you. Clearly it hasn’t, so let’s drop it.”
“You’re no fun.” Her lower lip juts out.
“Don’t you find it all kinda freaky?”
Her eyes brighten, and her frown reverses. “Not at all. It’s interesting.”
“Hmm.” I need to look at it from a different angle, like she does. “But you’ve heard of Hiddenkel, right? I asked Mom, and she played dumb.”
Crystia shrugs. “I don’t know. What is it?”
“Really? You said you’ve had dreams of Kaia, and I saw you by the wooded lake.” My voice rises, and my skin flushes with heat.
Her forehead wrinkles, and her eyebrows squish together. “Yeah, so?”
“Kaia and the lake are in Hiddenkel. And I’ve been getting emails naming it as our home. If there really is something to this place, maybe it exists beyond the limitations of our reality.” I sigh, spin the crystal on the bench in front of me. “What do you think that could mean for Kaia—or Dohlan?” I don’t want to mention the vision I had of Crystia when I was in the accident two
years prior, the one of her standing by the same wooded lake. It’s possible the vision came to fruition at school the other day with our shared dream.
Her face lights up. “Oh. I get it. Hiddenkel could be an alternate reality or another world. Something of that nature.” Her lips curve upward, almost to the point of madness. “In Buddhist cosmology, they explore the folding of the universe and the existence of other worlds. Maybe they mean on a different astral plain.”
“You know this how?” I tilt my head. “What have you done with my sister? The one who never studies for school?”
Crystia laughs. “School is boring. This stuff is way cool.”
“Yeah? That doesn’t explain why you didn’t bother to learn where you were in your dreams with Kaia. Or were you someplace different?”
“Nah. I’m sure I go to the same place. The where never seemed as important as the why.” Crystia shrugs. “Kaia gets that about me.”
I shake my head, jump off the stool, and walk toward the door. “Come on, let’s surprise Mom with dinner.” She follows, grips me with our everlasting-sister pinkie hold. I lift our hands between us. “You and me, all the way.”
“And Kaia,” she adds. “Triune.” Her voice is full of reverie. She squeezes and releases.
I half-laugh. So she’s aware of the Triune Kaia professes we’re supposed to be. I wonder if she knows about our supposed reincarnation. “Triune,” I say.
“Triune,” she repeats. “Do you think we’re like goddesses or something? With our super speed in the water and on land?” This time I laugh outright. She ignores me. “If we are the triple goddesses, which one of us is the mother and which is the old crone?”
We walk toward the house, leaving the garage in the shadow.
“The goddesses from Celtic myth? Guess that doesn’t work for us. You could never be anything other than the fair maiden.” I squint one eye and grin.
“Damn straight!” she replies with a smile so bright it could put Julia Roberts to shame.
“So, crazy fair maiden.” I narrow my gaze at her. “When are you going to tell me about this secret love interest of yours?”